[DnD 5e] Playthings in an Interplanar Dollhouse- A Path of the Planebreaker Adventure

[purepolarpanzer]

Velein, At the Foot of Mount Velein, The Capital of Wissimvale, Plane of Viridor

The Day of Union had arrived after weeks of preparation in the castle city of Velein. Merchants filled the market, guests of all shapes and sizes filled the normally human-dominated taverns and businesses of the city, and the celebrations had begun early and lasted well into the night for a half-week already. After more than a human generation's worth of war (and war-time taxes) the entire kingdom gave a sigh of relief at the prospect of peace with Everarbor. Even Elvish guests were welcomed, and despite mutters of "knife-ear" and "tree-hugger", incidents of aggression were minimal (and dealt with swiftly and thoroughly by the local guard). Tables, stages, and stalls were being set up for the entire city to feast and party in the streets along with the hundreds of visitors from afar that came to celebrate and trade here. Even a magic mirror was being set up to allow watchers all over the kingdom, maybe even the world to watch the festivities as two nations that had been at each other's throats for three decades made peace with the power of bloodlines mingled and, according to the romantically inclined, love shared.

It was a time when most of Viridor paid attention to a small mountain kingdom. Some hoped for success, peace, and prosperity. Some bitterly hoped for failure, folly, and a continued war. All who had read omens assumed the nuptials were the monumentous event that would shape the fate of all of Viridor. But no one expected what would come next.

Spoiler: Prince Doredan Reydalise

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Velein Castle is arranged in a series of descending terraces and structures built into the natural incline of the mountain. The higher you go in the structure, the stricter the security and the more prestigious the status of the people you find. Today the entire castle is abuzz with last minute wedding preparations- the priest of Damh, god of celebration, must be located in the city below and brought back for his duties, the royal chamberlain and his small army of butlers is rolling barrels of ale, wine, and spirits from the cellar and bringing them into the Hall of the Grandfathers, the Prince and Princess are under attack by wave after wave of courtiers, wellwishers, make up artists, tailors, and every other type of support staff imaginable, and somewhere a baby's howls fill the halls with a cacophony that only adds to the madness of the most memorable day since the previous King and Queen met their end at the hands of elvish alchemy.

Seeking respite, your instructor, Corinne, led you stealthily to one of the lower, less important garden terraces on the east side of the mountain, directly facing the morning sun. Snagging a low hanging apple, she tossed it to Doredan with an impish smile. "A moment of peace in a maelstrom of chaos, oui?" the regional tongue of Wissimvale shared a similar language structure with the trade tongue that had been adopted as the main language, but many of the older members of the populace still spoke with pronounced accents. How a woman who appeared in her mid thirties held such a strong accent was a mystery coming from a woman whose business was mysteries, hence, no one knew. She grabbed another apple and took a large bite, finishing it completely before continuing.

"There is a tradition amongst the elves of Everarbor. One that the visiting queen has INSISTED be honored. On the day of a marriage between two great houses, all who would attend the wedding must purchase an "unexpected" gift. How a gift is unexpected when this tradition outdates humans speaking eludes me, but no matter. It must also be purchased personally. A servant and a squad of guards is leading your younger brother to the market as we speak. It need not be expensive, or even useful, but in the words of the elvish Queen it should be "memorable and meaningful". I trust that you, unlike your baby brother, have not spent all your royal allowance on sweets and can make the trip to the market yourself?" She chuckles, and, as you have seen her do a hundred times in your lifetime, Corinne leaps over the balcony, skidding on her heels down the rocky slope of the mountain to reach the lowest terrace at hair-raising speed.

Spoiler: DC 14 Acrobatics or Athletics to Follow

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To take Corinne's favored path, or you can take the long way around through the castle and the chaos. Is Doredan a daring, dashing rogue?

Spoiler: DC 14 Investigation, With Advantage

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There is a note cunningly twisted to look like the stem of the apple. If you read it, you recognize a special ink used by Corinne that will disappear and render the note blank within the hour. It reads- "The High Priest of Damh is missing. Your Father and Mother are keeping it quiet so we do not look like fools to the Elvish Royal Party. I am heading into the city to tap my sources and try to locate him, but another set of eyes, eyes I trained to be sharp, would be more than welcome. Your target is a half-elf named Meriand Voskolm, wearing a prominant holy symbol of a spilling cup. If you find him and return him to his duties before the rehearsal, I'll tell you a hellacious, scandalous secret that will make your toes curl with how venomous it is."

Spoiler: OOC

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You may roll a Religion Roll against the DC's listed in Bill's spoiler as well.

Spoiler: Maker Kunnian the Gleeful

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The royal chamberlain, upon the prestigious Maker arriving, had led Kunnian to a guest's room in the lower part of the castle. The chamberlain seemed to be in a terrible rush, not bothering to give a tour, introduce to any of the plethora of exciting and daringly dressed people passing by, or even ask much of the Maker. "Good good. You are expected. Follow me, and I will lead you to your quarters, where you may wait until we have further instructions for you, Master Maker." A whirlwind trip through the castle later, and Kunnian was led to a section of smaller rooms meant for smaller dignitaries and diplomats.

The room was nice, if a bit cold and musty, as though it hadn't been used (or even thought of) in some time. An ample bed, large enough for even a tall dwarf, let alone a small gnome, a well made dresser with a mirror and a basin, a bell on a string for summoning servants, and... a note. The envelope was tucked into the top drawer of the dresser, under the sight line of the leaving chamberlain, but easily seen by the cunning and perceptive eyes of the gnomish guest. Written in flowing, loopy letters that seemed inefficient and exotic to regular gnomish script, the envelope bore Kunnian's name and title in full, along with a symbol for the Wyrdos.

"Elvish tradition dictates that all esteemed guests who are welcomed to a wedding of nobility bring an unexpected gift for the couple to be married. Do not feel the need to bankrupt yourself, Honored Maker, but we would be humbled if you would follow our rituals and bless our nuptials with a gift of meaning and memory. Though I recognize that it is likely you could craft such a gift with your abilties if rumors of your people are true, I would prefer a gift from the local market, if I had my choice. Delightfully yours, Princess Deidrenei Vallen'tal of Everarbor, Servant of the Great Forest and Master of Five Orbs."

Spoiler: Arcana DC 12

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Among the elves, it is customary to carry an arcane orb tuned to a specific school of magic. A master of five orbs has knowledge and proficiency of a magic user of considerable power.

Spoiler: Arcana DC 16

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It is customary for elves to only include titles detailing magic proficiency to peers in the art. For such a title to be used denotes exceeding amounts of respect.

Spoiler: Tramunbil Mabovoh

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Upon arriving in the city of Velein, Bill would be astounded to see the hustle and bustle of such a large settlement. It was almost as though an entire hive of humans and other humanoids was broken open. There were merchant caravans from afar come to fill the market with exotic trade goods, every tavern was packed to the common room floor with guests from near and far, and the castle itself was overrun with activity. Upon being announced at the gate, an under butler met Bill and sternly guided him to a quieter part of the castle.

"We have a problem. It is... not customary... but we may need you to be an understudy for the High Priest of Damh. He arrived early and went into the city to "oversee the holy celebration" and make sure it was... FESTIVE... enough. We haven't seen him since. He's a half-elven man bearing a holy symbol showing a spilling cup. We can't spare help right now, so we would ask two things of you, priest. Either find the High Priest and return him here in time for the rehearsal, or prepare to do the ceremony yourself. If it does come to that, you will need to secure some sort of special "unexpected" elvish gift for the royal couple. Some silly knife ea... I mean, some important elvish rite of some sort for noble weddings. We've been reassured that it needn't be expensive, but it should be memorable or show..." He sighs. "Personal meaning? Whatever that means... either way, we hope that you can find the High Priest, but if you can't... get yourself ready, master harrengon, because the Kingdom needs you." He points back towards the main gate, mutters a few basic directions to get to the market, and ushers you back out towards your new mission before splitting off for some other task. He does not even ASK you. Quite rude.

Spoiler: Religion DC 10

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The nearest High Priest of Damh is Meriand Voskolm, a half-elvish cleric who maintains a cathedral near the border of Wissimvale and Everarbor in the Pass of Falling Arrows.

Spoiler: DC 15

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Meriand, being born of an unsanctioned union between deserters of both militaries in the War of the Clipped Coin, has been an avid supporter of peace between Wissimvale and Everarbor for the last thirty years or so. He maintains a cathedral cut into the contested Pass between the two nations, preaching peace and encouraging desertion. Both nations frown on his efforts, but neither will risk the wrath of Damh by striking his temple.

Spoiler: DC 20

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It is possible that no one has worked harder for this peace than Meriand, and it is very suspicious that he is not lending a direct hand in supervising the union that will secure peace for generations.

Spoiler: The Magus, Hylusi Quaternaros

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While the humans of the castle rushed about like ants in a kicked nest, the Elvish contingent, filling a full wing of the Castle high on the mountain, was quiet. Not that people weren't busy preparing for the union, but most of the preparations for Princess Deidrenei's wedding had been completed while her husband-to-be was in diapers. Back then it was assumed that the third-daughter would be married off to some High Elvish noble to secure an alliance, or a Wood Elf Viridian Lord of the Deep Forests as part of the Rite of Grafted Branches. Hells, theree was even rumor that Queen Vallen'tal would marry her third daughter off to one of the Sorcerer-Kings of the far east in an attempt to produce offspring who were even more magically inclined. But the husband mattered little to the preparations of a daughter of Everarbor nobility. What mattered is what could be gained through the union.

Princess Deidrenei stood in the center of her chamber while seamstresses did final checks on her dress. Radiant white moonstones dotted the silk lattice that made up a dress that was simultaneously revealing and demure, radiant and simple, intricate and beautiful, depending on the angle one viewed it from. "Lower in the bosom, I should think." The Princess said. "I want to see Prince Monsinar flush through his dark skin when he sees me in this." Holding entirely still, Princess Deidre flicked her eyes, causing an ethereal hand to turn the page of a book on a stand in front of her. "Magus..." Again, she did not move, but Hylusi felt the attention of her lady turn to her even as he head remained entirely still. "We have informed the humans of the expectations of the Unexpected Gifts. I know, and old ritual, but one that is called for when dealing with a wedding of this gravity. My mother may not consider this wedding befitting of the greatest of rites, but I do. And, as my lady, my magician, and my servant, I wish you to be present for both the rehearsal and the vows. You will be my curled bicep, a show of my strength that the humans cannot fully understand that will keep them from considering my own magical prowess as a Master of Five Orbs. And, as you will be included in the wedding party, it is necessary that you also participate in the Rite of Unexpected Gifts." She twitches her eyes again, and the hand goes to a nearby table and picks up a purse that has been prepared, gently tossing it to her Magus. "Fifty golden Everarbor acorns. Let their merchants fret and worry about whose coins are worth more and whether or not they can afford to make a fuss. You know the old ways as well as I- it need not be lavish, but it should bear the weight of meaning and memory." For the first time in nearly an hour of this fitting, one side of the Princess' mouth turns up into a smile. "If you chance by it... find something exotic, but practical from one of the foreign merchants. I want to see if my husband-to-be can puzzle the purpose of whatever it is you find. I'll owe you a bottle of fractal ink if you manage to stump me as well."

Spoiler: DC 0 Arcana

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Fractal Ink is one of the ways magic users craft spellbooks and scrolls.

Spoiler: DC 5

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Magic supplies used for crafting are often traded between practitioners of the art at a higher value that mere coins. Some mages even consider coins an insult.

Spoiler: Hylusi Knows

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As a Master of Five Orbs and a member of the royal family, Deidre has a special account with the most esteemed magic shop in the bows of the Great Oak back home. Her fractal ink is of the utmost quality and resonates with magic more strongly than what most mages have access to. A bottle of it is no big deal for her, but a great boon to less wealthy and connected mages. It is a generous gift between friends, and not one that she would give freely to someone she didn't trust and value.

Spoiler: Felicity Fourhooves

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When Felicity first arrived at the castle, the popular opinion was that she would have an honored place- in the lower stable. However, Prince Monsinar himself had insisted that, as a servant of the Crown, she be given a room in the castle meriting a foreign dignitary. The humans tended to look upon Felicity with mixed confusion and uncertainty, but the Crown Prince had never treated her strangely or differently. In fact, ever since the centaur had saved the life of his younger cousin Monsinar had treated Felicity as a friend and perhaps even a confidant of sorts. More than most, she knew he bore a great weight with the burden of royalty on his shoulders like a yolk, he was anxious as could be about marrying a woman he'd met less times than can be counted on one hand, but he was determined to do his duty, protect his people, and do right by the oaths he'd sworn to his parents.

He also realized that he would have less and less time to meet with his friends after the marriage, and had begun sending notes to those closest and most loyal to him. Sometimes they were as innocuous as a silly joke, other times they were of dread seriousness, with true insight into his thoughts and feelings and instructions to burn them after reading them. They were often in unexpected places, and it was rumored that the Prince had been given a secret map of Velein Castle with secret passages that led everywhere. And so it was unexpected, but only moderately so, when Felicity found a hand addressed note from the Crown Prince in her closet as she chose her nicest clothing for the festivities.

"Felicity- I feel like a prisoner in my own home! Bound in chains of tradition and ritual, dressed in a uniform of silk and royal dyes, but a prisoner nonetheless. Now my wife-to-be is informing us of some ancient Rite of her people to bind the marriage in the eyes of her ancestors or something. Either way, I have a task that I must unfortunately ask of you. Ever since you pledged yourself as my sword, I've felt uncomfortable asking you for favors, as though instead of friend to friend I was ordering you as liege to servant, and that has never been how I've felt around you. But despite this, I must allow some of my "royal authority" to slip into this request.

I must ask you three tasks-

First task- as a member of my esteemed wedding party, I need you to buy an "Unexpected Gift" for me and my bride-to-be, and it must be purchased before the rehearsal this afternoon. I wish I had more notice for you, but trust me, it was a last minute order from the Queen of Everarbor. It doesn't have to be expensive, but it does have to come from the heart apparently. I've never known someone so honest and forthright as you, so I know you'll have no issue finding something meaningful. Perhaps something that reminds you of home? My second brother might just be spreading rumors, but Doredan said that there was a centaur merchant in the market pulling a cart. If you require funds you may ask the chamberlain. I'm sure he will pinch every copper, but he knows you serve me and will not deny you.

Secondly- the High Priest of Damh who is supposed to do the ceremony hasn't been seen since yesterday. Father and Mother don't want the Elves to know we've got issues, so they're trying to keep only our most trusted agents informed of the situation. As my sworn sword, I'm asking you- Meriand Voskolm, High Priest of the God of Festivities is missing somewhere in the city, and we need HIM back before the rehearsal as well.

Third- Have some fun today! I'm buried in obligations in anxiety, but that doesn't mean that one of us can't have a good time! I've given special order to the staff to make sure there is room for someone of your size and shape in the dancing that will go on this evening. I told you I'd see those hooves do a two-step, and I won't take no for an answer!"

[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- A long day of playing violin to entertain the guests had left the young (but not youngest) Prince exhausted, with sweat glistening on his forehead. Pulling out a kerchief from his pocket, he wipes away the layer of sweat, only opening his eyes in time to reflexively catch the apple flying his way. "Oui, and a welcome one. If someone requested Le Mariage de Lord Lachance once more, I was prepared to snap my strings to escape." Leaning back against the apple tree, he takes a bite from the fruit and listens to the elven marriage tradition. Unexpected, huh? Doredan could do 'unexpected'. He is looking up at the leaves, lost in thought, when Corinne leaps from the balcony. Startled from his thoughts, he looks around and then, confident in his own skills, leaps after her. While skidding down the slope and leaning back to keep from tumbling over, he lifts the apple to take a bite in an attempt to look cool. The wind blows the stem off as he raises it to his mouth and blows it down his throat, where it lodges itself rather painfully. Startled, the Prince hacks and chokes, missing a rock in his path that sends him tripping over and tumbling down to the next level terrace. Rolling against a stone bench, his stomach impacts the leg and causes him to cough up the stem. Only, as astute observation finds, it is no stem at all. Sitting up and hiding his face, flush with embarrassment, behind the seat of the bench, Doredan unfurls the note and peers at it. There was absolutely no way to play off this blunder as intentional, so he simply tries to act like it never happened and his sides aren't sore and likely to bruise. Now, Doredan had paid less than zero attention to the guest list. So his first thought upon reading the name on the note is, Who is Meriand Voskolm? Spoiler: OOC Show Takes 8 damage from biffing Acrobatics with a nat 1 and falling.

[Awful]

Hylusi Quaternaros, Magus of Bleakpines Magework Necromancer Darkvision: 60ft AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 14 PIv: 14 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5/5 d6 HD Arcane recovery 1/1 Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Fingerbone staff 10/10 The Magus herself had been seated on a chair in the corner, only paying mild attention to the works of the seamstresses. Her Lady did not keep her near for her clothing advice, after all. It was rare for the spidery ex-elf to be in anything that a collection of blacks and greys of various shades, as if something had sucked all the colour from her countenance. Even her skin was a slate-grey hue, the sclera of her eyes dark and the pupils pinpricks of painfully white light, by no means ugly but certainly unnerving to the common man. Compared to the illustrious beauty of the Princess, she seemed a grim crow of a figure, but that had its own advantages. Three silent figures stood against the wall. Each was clad in heavy robes, down to the floor, their hands gloved and faces covered by smooth painted masks of red, green, and blue, respectively, shaped in the form of elven faces at rest. The three figures were entirely still. One hand was supporting her cheek, rested against it. Another lightly grasped the stem of a wineglass, still half-full of a admittedly acceptable human-brewed vintage from 1338; a third held open a slender book written by one of the humans' so-called war wizards, and a fourth scribbled sharp, angular letters of her own cypher on a piece of parchment. At the Princess' words, however, the motion stilled. Her eyes flicked towards the princess, and she clicked her fingers once, in time for one of the silent, robed figures standing like statues by her to step forward and catch the purse. It slid it into a pocket of its robes; Hylusi did not sully her own hands with money if she could help it. She inclined her head, once, knowing that the Princess could tell - even without mundane line of sight on her. <As you wish,> she said. Her voice was not spoken out loud, for a flaw in her flesh-craft formula had robbed her of a voice. Instead, it was a thrum of thought, dry and rustling, like bones riffling through parchment. This one was for the Princess alone - the seamstresses heard not a thing. <Something to confuse the human might be easy, but I suspect you will be more difficult. Nonetheless, I accept the challenge.> She took a final sip of the wine and left the glass on the table, snapping the fingers of a different hand. She twisted the fingers in a series of quick gestures. Another one of the servants - Seli, this one, with the mask of green - stepped forward and offered forward her staff. She took it, appreciating the feel of ever-cold, polished wood under her fingers. Shal, red-clad, stepped forward to collect the book and page of notes. <Deidrenei.> She inclined her head again in a shallow bow of farewell, the three servitors mimicing it far deeper, and made her way out, her retainers opening the door as she moved towards it. Outside, they dropped into formation three steps behind, their padded boots soft compared to the clack-clack-clack of her staff against the ground. It was a mark of their friendship, the private use of her first name like this. There was no softness in it. It was not a friendship built on sappy handholding and flower crowns - any of that faded with the foolish notions of childhood. But they were bound - mutual links of respect, of ambition, of hunger for magical knowledge. A vial of fractal ink certainly helped matters. Making her way down the terraces, she could see in the distance some damn fool leapt from a balcony and try to surf down the mountainside. With some small satisfaction, the man tripped and tumbled inelegantly down, stopping his roll via application of bench to gut. She made to go past him, seeking the marketplace and its oceans of tat.

[jscape2000]

Spoiler: big image

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Bil Mabovoh
Priest of Damh (Twilight)
AC: 18 HP: 33/33
PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 17
Conditions:
5/5 d8 HD
Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd

The smallest gasp escapes Bil's lips when he hears the news from the butler, and his left ear twitches spasmodically in excitement. What an opportunity! To serve at the royal wedding... nay nay! To save the royal wedding.

But... Bil takes a steadying breath. Decorum demands that he be seen trying to locate the missing high priest. Prudence demands it as well, as it would not be good to have the half-elven priest arrive just before the ceremony were set to commence and usurp Bil's place. There is the matter of a gift - something of personal meaning.

Personal to the newlyweds or to me? Underbutlers are often in the position they occupy because they underwonder and underexplain Bil thinks to himself. No matter. Off to the market, to search for presents, priests, and prominent position in the pastorate.

[NiKkatsu]

Maker Kunnian AC: 15 | HP: 38/38 | HIT DICE: 5d8+10 Speed: 25ft | Initiative: +2 Passive Perception: 11 | Passive Insight: 11 Conditions: --- Kunnian slightly tilts her head to one side after reading her letter... She giggles as she thinks to herself: << How can a gift have meaning and memory if I just bought it? >> She had been pacing around the room as she read and finds herself now standing before the mirror. She sees herself in her dusty old travelling clothes and can't help but tut disapprovingly: ''This will not do,'" she says out loud. She gives a twirl and a short whistle and her cloak magically flies towards her bed while her armor transforms into more proper attire. Nothing too formal though - she would keep the fancier look for the wedding proper. She now appears to be wearing a green coat over a purple silk tunic in perfectly constrasting shades. She winks to herself in the mirror, slings her heavy bandore around her shoulders and heads out towards the market. All the while, a nagging feeling kept creeping up into her mind: << Aren't you forgetting something? >> Ever since she'd returned from the Realm of the Fey, she had a tendency to be forgetful, as if her mind had retained some of the fleeting nature of the Feywild and had a difficult time readapting to the more fixed nature of the material plane. But knowledge that truly needed to be known would return in time, she had learned. She was forgetting though, that much was true! She had foreseen a terrible omen. But perhaps it was better for her to forget right now, so she could enjoy her time here before delivering the bad news.

[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- Furling up the note and slipping it into his pocket (though it would be a moot point soon enough when the trick ink fades), the unlucky Prince stands and looks around, brushing himself off. Hopefully not too many people saw him take a tumble. No doubt Corinne is somewhere in a dark corner stifling laughter at his expense. Straightening his shirt and finery, bearing the royal insignia, he notices a cohort of masked figures following a familiar elven dignitary. Since this high priest he is supposed to look for is an elf, perhaps she knows where he is. Striding swiftly in her wake, he catches up to the color-drained and stern-looking magus. "Fancy meeting you outside of the castle! Are you enjoying the festivities? Or you needed a break from them, perhaps?" he hazards a guess based on her demeanor.

[Awful]

Hylusi Quaternaros, Magus of Bleakpines Magework Necromancer Darkvision: 60ft AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 14 PIv: 14 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5/5 d6 HD Arcane recovery 1/1 Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Fingerbone staff 10/10 Oh, it was the spare. The magus had not had too much to do with the Prince Doredan. He had seemed a rogue and rastabout, with little interest or ambition towards the throne, and with his zero magical ability there had been little common ground. Fufulling the basic tenants of politeness, Hylusi bowed shallowly to the human. The three servitors, again, copied the gesture in perfect mute sychronicity. <Your highness.> Her mind-voice and face alike were carefully neutral. <In all honesty, I have not been overly involved in the celebrations; my duties have kept me at my Lady's side. They do however seem very... festive. You must be very pleased for Prince Monsinar.> Her eyes flicked over him, up and down, and she frowned at his crumpled appearance. With a single, sharp motion, she tapped her staff on the ground, the sound strangely muted, and the dirt scuffs on the Prince's clothing crumbled off, leaving it perfectly clean and a quickly fading chill. <I was heading to the market, in truth. No doubt you know of the Rite of Unexpected Gifts? I intend to seek a worthy gift among the stalls.>

[jscape2000]

Bil Twilight Cleric of Damh AC: 18 HP: 33/33 THP: PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Bil makes his way from the castle down towards the market. Along the way he whispers a prayer of gratitude to Damh. Thank you for bringing these strangers together in a moment of joy. That centaur, the gnome, those elves, these humans, that… whatever that is. Help me leave my past and future to their own devices so I can revel in this moment. Arriving at a glass blowers’ stand, Bil forces himself to slow. Memorable, or showing personal meaning. Perhaps a mirror? Something that could show the sovereigns themselves as the world sees them?

[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- Being contacted by the telepathic voice catches Doredan by surprise, the Prince's brow rising. He resists the curiosity to question it for the moment, not wanting to go off on too many tangents at once and lose the conversation. "Oh, there's no party like a Damh party!" he agrees with a good-natured laugh. "Though the nobles, to be frank, could use more varied taste in music." A little more soberly he adds, "I know this is a political marriage, but I hope that the two of them come to enjoy one another's company. And that the war business is all behind us." Turning to the side, he sweeps his arm forwards towards the market. "I was just on my way to the market myself. Would you like to go together, or would that be against the spirit of the thing?"

[Awful]

Hylusi Quaternaros, Magus of Bleakpines Magework Necromancer Darkvision: 60ft AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 14 PIv: 14 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5/5 d6 HD Arcane recovery 1/1 Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Fingerbone staff 10/10 The magus inclined her head in agreement to his offer. Again, her mouth didn't move, but the dry mental voice came to the Prince again. <The rite allows for such,> she told him. <Indeed, it is not uncommon to seek assistance from the friends and family of the one to recieve the gift.> She was silent for a moment, then made a small gesture in the direction of the markets, and began walking, letting the prince fall in besides her. The servitors dropped smoothly into formation, following behind like shadows. <As you say, your highness. Only a fool marries for love; but one can hope to find their spouse's company enjoyable.> As they walked, she glanced at the young princeling. Handsome enough, in his way, with an athletic, wiry body; fine enough, if one was into humans, at least. How old was he? Less than a decade, she was sure, but humans born at the dawn practically shrivelled by the dusk. <You are too young to have fought, correct?>

[truemane]

Felicity Fourhooves Centaur Paladin 5 AC: 17 HP: 44 PP:10 PIv: 09 PIs: 10 Lay on Hands: 25/25 Spell Slots: 4/2 Felicity was glad no one was around as she read (and re-read, and re-read) the Prince's letter. Had anyone been nearby, they would have seen the remarkable sight of the tall, statuesque, elfin centaur's entire face blush a deep, deep red. And then they would see her clutch the letter to her heart, with small tears of joy in her eyes, before she stuffed it away and got hold of herself. A present! He wants me to buy him a present! Esteemed member of the wedding party! All of this tore through her head like a rampaging stallion and it was the sober second point that brought her back to earth: the High Priest of Damh! Missing! The wedding is in danger! And with that though, she took to hoof and galloped through the wide halls of the palace out into the bright sunshine and toward the market district. After all, maybe Meriand Voskolm was in the market? And she could manage two quests at the same time. Sure, Felicity was a creature of the far wilds, a expat of the Feywild, and a depthles, incurable romantic. But that didn't mean she couldn't be efficient. Hitting the market, she slowed (mostly oblivious to the looks she was getting) and started perusing the stalls and the crowd. What does Meriand Voskolm even look like? What does a High Priest look like? So she started looking for very tall hats. After an hour or so, she hadn't found anything that would serve as a personal, unexpected gift. And she hadn't seen anyone with a particularly tall hat. She did, however, see an anthropomorphic rabbit staring at a glassblower. Interesting, she thought. Not what I'm looking for, but interesting. She clopped over slowly (not wanting to startle him). "Pardon me," she said, in her best, most friendly and jovial voice, "And forgive me if this is a rude question, but are you a Harengon? We had a family of Harengon living near us in the Faegrym Forest. What brings you all the way to Wessimvale?" Spoiler: OOC Show Maker/Nikkatsu: if you wanted to 'happen to notice' two other Fae creatures and wander over for a chat, that might be a nice intro. The moment Felicity recognizes Prince Doredan she's going to lose it, and go talk to him, so that'll be a nice final step.

[jscape2000]

[TABLE]
After an hour or so, she hadn't found anything that would serve as a personal, unexpected gift. And she hadn't seen anyone with a particularly tall hat. She did, however, see an anthropomorphic rabbit staring at a glassblower.

Interesting, she thought. Not what I'm looking for, but interesting.

She clopped over slowly (not wanting to startle him).

"Pardon me," she said, in her best, most friendly and jovial voice, "And forgive me if this is a rude question, but are you a Harengon? We had a family of Harengon living near us in the Faegrym Forest. What brings you all the way to Wessimvale?"

Bil Twilight Cleric of Damh AC: 18 HP: 33/33 THP: PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Bil gives a small start, interrupted from his consideration of the various mirrors and other fine items. His nose gives the slightest twitch as he considers the centaur. In fact, I am, milady. he replies telepathically, offering a slight bow to the centaur. I consider myself a resident of Velein, since my colony was lost to war. I was serving here at court, as an ambassador to Wessimvale from the Mabovoh clan, when the warrens and neighboring Maril were lost. But what of you? On this auspicious occasion, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady...?"

[NiKkatsu]

Maker Kunnian AC: 15 | HP: 38/38 | HIT DICE: 5d8+10 Speed: 25ft | Initiative: +2 Passive Perception: 11 | Passive Insight: 11 Conditions: --- The gnome had been wandering around the market, strumming her bandore, hoping to get a flash of inspiration for the required gift, but so far, it had been mostly moot... She'd even asked a few local animals - birds, a rat and a horse - what they thought the bride and groom to be might enjoy as a gift, but their ideas had not been very convincing and mostly revolved around food that they themselves would've enjoyed. <<Animals in the material plane are so selfish,>> she thought to herself. She was beginning to feel a little frustrated and kept repeating in her mind: <<meaning and memory, meaning and memory...>> when her eyes suddenly befell a surprising yet welcome sight: feyfolk! Indeed, standing only a few feet away from her, there was what appeared to be a Centaur and a Harengon. The Harengon bowed and then appeared to be staring intently at the Centaur... perhaps they were shy and didn't know what to say to each other? Kunnian thought she might chime in to break the awkwardness: ''A Harengon made fun of a Tortle one day for being so slow. ''Do you ever get anywhere?'' he asked with a mocking laugh. ''Yes,'' replied the Tortle, ''and I get there sooner than you think. I'll run you a race to prove my claim, and put your speed to shame,'' she sung, accompanying her song with a few notes from her bandore. She strummed out her final notes and stood there, smiling: ''Hi! I'm Maker Kunnian the Gleeful of Wyrd Town, friend to all the Fey Folk.'' She curtsied.

[purepolarpanzer]

Velein Market, At the Foot of Mount Velein, The Capital of Wissimvale, Plane of Viridor

The market at Velein is over capacity, to say the least. The established market stalls and shops are joined by wagons, caravans, hawkers, street foods, carnival-style games, minstrels, bard, street players, and magicians, and so much more beyond that. The normally expansive open air market feels claustrophobic to those who are used to leisurely strolls while doing their shopping. The city guard are everywhere, making themselves known, but keeping out of the hubub for the most part, probably on orders to allow both the residents of the city and the visitors to have their fun, make their coin, and more than anything pay their taxes.

Either in pairs or in trios, our party enters this chaotic free for all of coin and trade. Amongst the sea of people, music, food, and mercantilism there are many sights, sounds, smells, and scintillating items from near and far.

Spoiler: Perception DC 5

Show

Most of the established local shops are doing good business with the locals of the city, offering sales and specials to keep their regulars from straying to the competition. There are a variety of local wares, from the glassblower that caught Bil's eye, Dragon's Fire Glassworks, making mirrors, vases, hookahs, and glass art ranging from a delicate butterfly resting on a branch to a life size shark hanging from the ceiling of the shop with exquisitely crafted miniature fish inside of it. The local arms and armorer, The Bulwark and the Blade, is having a sale on a range of items made from leathers to full plate. A ceramics shop is offering fine porcelain plates with the visage of the royal families from both Wissimvale and Everarbor as collections.

Spoiler: Investigation DC 10

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The Bulwark and the Blade's "sale" is modest at best, as it appears they marked up everything in their shop before discounting it all to make the offer seem more impressive. However, there is a mastercraft pair of shortswords for sale, one of obvious, flowing elvish design and one of more standard design with artful filigree and a gemstone in the pommel. The placard next to this pair states that the crafter is a renowned smith of the Unfathomable East who forged these blades in the styles of Everarbor and Wissimvale when the fighting began to cool a few years ago, in hopes that the next time elvish blade and human blade were drawn they would be in defense of both lands, not in aggression against each other. Though they are of very different form, they appear to be expertly weighted against each other. They are marked down from 300 gp to 200 gp, but if the story of their origin is true and the artistry is authentic that price is more than fair.


The glass are of Dragon's Fire Glassworks ranges in quality quite a bit. Some of the creations are obviously the work of lesser blowers, while the most intricate works are masterpieces of fragile art. Prices range from 5 gp for glass rings and small baubles upwards to approximately 50 gp for the finer mirrors, smoking apparatus, and quality pieces.

The plates are tawdry things, an obvious cash grab by some entrepreneurial soul. Made of cheap materials, the prints of faces on each are terrible. The image of Doredan has a lazy eye, Monsinor's teeth look positively horshish, and half the family of the Everarbor royalty are simply made up. They are, however, very affordable at a silver apiece.

Spoiler: Perception DC 13

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Some of the travelling merchant's stalls are harder to spot in the chaos, but this is where goods become more exotic. A pale man wearing furs drives a cart that appears to be the skeleton of a large fish, and his wares are scrimshaw carved from a variety of sea shells, bones, and horns of all manner of creatures. He doesn't seem to speak much common, but he does swear by his ancestors that he single handedly slew every beast and carved their remains himself. A centaur merchant that pulls a cart themselves has an entire shop set up selling products made from colorful grasses- charms, dream catchers, incense wraps, even a shield of tightly wound grass with a red bullseye woven tightly into it. She speaks common, but speaks quietly and slowly, much to the annoyance of some customers who give up trying to hear her over the din. Finally, a man wearing a jangling coat of coins offers to sell commemorative coins. Coming in a wooden clutch, one coin shows The Great Oak of Everarbor, the other Castle Valein. He openly promises that any who purchase them will have fine luck for as long as the marriage between the bride and groom lasts. He is charging fifty gold for each pair he sells.

Spoiler: Investigation DC 16

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The pale man wearing furs is from the Frozen Archipelago to the far south. If he truly killed all these animals himself he is an exceedingly well travelled man, as these beasts come from all corners of the world. The craftsmanship of the carvings is well above average, and he has pieces ranging from sand dollars with light etchings on them for a few silver up to a massive tooth the size of a halberd's head showing a scene of some men in a boat doing battle with a great sea serpent.

Spoiler: Nature or Arcana DC 18

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As impressive as the massive tooth is, the true treasure of this collection is a spiraling horn of pearlescent material that seems to shine with an inner light. The horn belongs to Immex Unicorn, a creature far more common than a true unicorn, but only slightly less magical. Hunting them in their homeland across the sea is a crime, so this must have been smuggled from afar. It is said that if they are ground and used as a spell component, the spell is blessed with radiant, divine energy. This oaf has carved vines into it like a common walking stick.

The coins are made of brass, and mechanically stamped. They are trinkets, nothing more.

Spoiler: Perception or Religion DC 17

Show

The centaur's works are beautiful, but if you lean in and listen to her quiet words she professes that they are meant to be practical. She is an exiled shaman of her people, and the items she sells apparently have supernatural qualities. The charms are meant to ward away evil (+1 to AC and Saves Vs. Evil Creatures upon being targeted by an attack or spell for 10 rounds, 15 gp), the smudge sticks ground spirits to the material realm with their smoke (immaterial beings become tangible for 10 rounds when burned, 40 gp), and the shield is imbued with Mother Earth's desire to protect her children from metal weapons, grabbing at foe's blades and bludgeons if they are made of metal. She is selling the shield for 300 gp. However, because few can understand her mumblings, she isn't doing a very good trade.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

If anyone has any interesting ideas for gifts, hit me up on the Discord. This post took longer than I thought it would, and I have to cut it off early.

[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- "Excellent!" still speaking aloud, the Prince is not really sure if the magus can read his mind or hear his thoughts back, or not. It's a bit of an unnerving thought, but her aggressively neutral face gives away no hints that she can detect his wandering mind. Instead of focusing on that, Doredan keeps up a polite smile and walks alongside the elven party. Walking ahead could give the impression that he views himself as superior, and walking behind would look weak in front of the people. Both could reinforce the elements desiring to take up arms again for fools' causes. The Prince knows enough of appearances that going alongside the magus would present the best message to the people. On the matter of love and fools, the romantic in Doredan wants to disagree. However, he has been educated on these matters. As a royal, the liberty to choose his spouse was an unlikely one, and something he had to resign to long go. In the end he chooses not to comment. "Well, I am quite a gifted fencer, if I do say so my- oh," just as he begins to answer, Prince Doredan realizes she was talking (thinking, think talking?) about the war. "To fight in the war, right. Old enough to stand in a line as a lancier were I a conscript," he answers as they step into the familiar bright colors and ambient smells of the market. "But too young to be sent out as an officer." When they pass the many flavors of street performers, Doredan sets a hand upon his coin purse, wary of losing it. "The street magicians have skilled legerdemain," he warns his traveling companion(s). "Good for making coins disappear." The guard is out in full force, but one can never be too careful when carrying a hefty coin pouch. It is a cart pulled by a centaur in shamanic garb that draws Doredan's attention. Inclining his head towards her, he suggests to the princess' attendant, "A fine array of wardings. I am sure that the princess would appreciate their efficacy." He also motions towards the pair of swords on display, of Arborian and of Wessimvalian style. "These also are of fine quality and a most keen symbol of union, though the tale of their making seems, to me, too tall." Thinking the swords a little to on the nose for himself, he approaches the centauress' cart and peruses the protective charms. Drawn to the intricate woven strands of the dreamcatchers, he takes a closer look at them. "Most captivating, speaker of spirits. Of the dreamwebs, this one would know the purpose," he questions the craftswoman, speaking in flowery Sylvan.

[Awful]

Hylusi Quaternaros, Magus of Bleakpines Magework Necromancer Darkvision: 60ft AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 14 PIv: 14 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: detect magic 5/5 d6 HD Arcane recovery 1/1 Spell Slots- 3/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Fingerbone staff 10/10 <Ah, yes. I recall your proclivity for dueling being mentioned. Swordsmanship is a laudable enough skill, for those without arcane talents.> Speaking of arcane talents- Hylusi flicked a hand over her eyes and centred her sight slightly past the mundane, seeing the dimn auras of magic cling like moss to some of the items they passed. Most of what was being sold as magical was nothing of the sort - but it didn't seem to prevent fools from spending coin like water on them. Bah. To the foolish frog, went the scorpion's sting: trust was rarely earned. The ex-elf eyes were drawn to a series of plates, purportedly of the Everarbour royalty - though the family seemed to have gained and lost a few members, and the idea of the Princess having that sort of ridiculous goofy smile- Well, she almost wanted to smile herself - while forcing the sellers to eat their defective wares as penalty, perhaps. <It would seem the royal family of my land has had some changes to the bloodline since last I saw, judging by those plates. Why, one could almost think they just made it up.> She gestured towards the offending articles, her mental voice wry. <Truly, such a collection of gimcracks and gewgaws has rarely been exceeded.> At the centaur's wagon, Hylusi paused to examine them. These, at least, were not the garbage of most of the rest of the festival, each clearly enshrouded with a magical aura. <I can at least say these are genuinely magical. For a union ensuring peace, however, presenting the couple with the equivalent of armour seems a little... inauspicious.>

[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- The Plate Stall Prince Doredan picks up one of the plates with his face on it when the gray elf points them out, examining it. He turns it around next to himself and asks the seller with a mock-serious face, "Does my eye really do that?" It would probably be within his rights to enact some sort of punishment for selling such poor quality wares, but causing a scene in front of the public would be all the worse. So Prince Doredan tucks it away, to perhaps see some of the funds redirected to the less fortunate. Or, maybe not. Time spent being petty could be better spent on something else. The Shaman's Wagon "What is a dreamcatcher, but armor for dreams? What are dreams, but our wishes for a better future?" the Prince waxes poetic in an aside while he contemplates a possible purchase.

[truemane]

Felicity Fourhooves Centaur Paladin 5 AC: 17 HP: 44 PP:10 PIv: 09 PIs: 10 Lay on Hands: 25/25 Spell Slots: 4/2 In fact, I am, milady. he replies telepathically, offering a slight bow to the centaur. I consider myself a resident of Velein, since my colony was lost to war. I was serving here at court, as an ambassador to Wessimvale from the Mabovoh clan, when the warrens and neighboring Maril were lost. But what of you? On this auspicious occasion, I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady...?" Felicity blushes a little and giggles when he calls her lady (twice!). Even the very thought of her, Felicity, being a noble, all decked out in a fancy dress and custom made shoes for her hooves and, and... "No, no, not Lady. Merely a knight in service to the crown. Felicity, if it please you. But you're an ambassador? I'm so sorry, Your Excellency! I meant no disprespect!" And she was about to curtsey all prim and proper, when... Kunnian thought she might chime in to break the awkwardness: ''A Harengon made fun of a Tortle one day for being so slow. ''Do you ever get anywhere?'' he asked with a mocking laugh. ''Yes,'' replied the Tortle, ''and I get there sooner than you think. I'll run you a race to prove my claim, and put your speed to shame,'' she sung, accompanying her song with a few notes from her bandore. She strummed out her final notes and stood there, smiling: ''Hi! I'm Maker Kunnian the Gleeful of Wyrd Town, friend to all the Fey Folk.'' She curtsied. Felicity watched (and listened to) the little gnome with such delight she forgot all about how the Harengon had been speaking directly into her mind. "That's such a good curtsey!" she said, more than a little jealous. "So much better than mine!" She then demonstrates her curtsey, but aimed more an Kunnian than the Harengon (who still hadn't said his name). And then she realized how rude that must be, blushed again, and curtsied at him. And then she realized how ridiculous she must look bobbing up and down all over the place like a jackanape. And she laughed. "Are you both in town for the wedding?" And then she gasped. "Wait! Do either of you know Meriand Voskolm, High Priest of Dahm? I'm, uh, trying to find him."

[jscape2000]

Bil Twilight Cleric of Damh AC: 18 HP: 33/33 THP: PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd [COLOR = #0000FF] "No, no, no," Bil chatters, "You give yourself too little credit. Every knight worth her scabbard is a lady. Just as every curtsey is a fine one, for 'tis the intention that matters more than the form of the thing. A harp is a harp, even if it does need to be restrung every now and again." "And I too, Tramunbil, humble servant of Damh, seek the high priest... though do lower your voice, dear lady. This is a matter which must be handled with delicacy. His Excellency is overdue to the castle, but we must cause no alarm among the people nor imply to High Priest Voskolm that the slight delay in his schedule caused by his celebratory choices were ill-advised." [/COLOR] Bil's mind worked fast - if these two were also searching for the high priest, then his quest was both less discrete and more urgent than he'd realized. He had to find the high priest first, if he were going to win the laurels for saving the royal wedding. "First, I aim to find a suitable wedding gift for the royal couple. I was thinking a mirror with a word of wisdom, 'To seem is to be' or some such similar guidance worthy of a prince. We should join forces! My friends call me Bil. How shall I address you?"

[purepolarpanzer]

Velein Market, At the Foot of Mount Velein, The Capital of Wissimvale, Plane of Viridor

The Porcelain Plate Stall

The seller of the plates, come face to face with the subject of his "art", stutters and protests. "No, M'lord. You look SO much better than my wares would say... I mean... not that my plates are wrong... but... they could never hope... to encompass the... RADIANCE... of the Reydalise family! Please, forgive the slight, M'lord..."

The Shaman of the Grasses' Cart

The centaur, an older woman with grey streaks in her auburn hair, leans in close and whispers in Doredan's ear. "The dreamcatchers are woven with plainssage and sweet grass and dyed with flowers I picked on my journey away from my homeland. They are blessed by the earth mother to keep foul ideas and foul spirits away from the people they guard. Hang them in your bedchamber, and you will be visited only by good dreams, kind worded sir. I must charge 50 of your country's gold pieces for them, for I need the money to continue my journey and complete my penance."

Spoiler: Insight DC 10

Show

She fully believes what she is saying, and speaks with a wisdom that portrays some expertise in matters of spirits and dreams.

Other Oddities of the Market

One small merchant drives a hairy six legged rodent the size of a mule. The purveyor is clad is robes that obscure it's body, and it sells small tanks of water with color changing squids in them that wave affectionately at passerby. The small robed merchant rings a bell, and all the small squids change color at the same time to portray a famous painting of a beautiful woman. It's imperfect and smudgey, but still very impressive for invertebrates.

A gregarious and moustachioed man with oily black hair sells clockwork creations, from birds that sing in a foreign tongue to a complex puzzle that he claims holds a magic gem inside. He allows people to try their hand at solving the puzzle, but when people manipulate the cranks, dials, and mechanisms incorrectly a loud horn blares, they jump and release the puzzle as though they've been struck with a shocking grasp, and the clockwork merchant only laughs and offers a children's puzzle instead.

A lizardfolk merchant leads a massive reptile of some sort through the market, and hanging off of the large surly beast are masks of a thousand different colors. Some are made with feathers and scales, some are made with sea shells, some are made with cloth and dye, but all of them are fetching and alluring, and the merchant promises that each lets you see "Through the eeeeyyyyeeesss of a sissssster ssssssoulllll on a wwwworrrlllddd you may never visssssit."

A small ape wearing clothes turns the crank on a small musical instrument, causing a large, obese man on a leash to dance mirthfully.

An ethereal elf-like figure with pure black eyes and star shaped pupils sells chunks of crystal that reverberate with a resounding hum when struck, growing at a creeping pace for as long as the vibrations continue. If asked, he (or is it she?) says that at their home there are entire gardens of growing crystal in a myriad of colors, and the different patterns are used in divination rituals. They look wistful and distant as they speak of their home, but quickly return to business.

A merchant in chain armor carrying a scimitar is making a small fortune selling dragon scales, wyvern stingers, and other macabre monster hunting trophies. The most prominent piece in their collection is a large, ominous eye larger than a man that seems to follow the viewer wherever they go.

A gnomish jeweler offers rings, necklaces, earrings, and studs made of "stone smoke", permanent smoky creations that do not dissipate or blow away in the wind of various colors and patterns. His partner, dressed as a thief, does a small show of sneaking up behind the jeweler and attempting to steal the necklace, but their fingers pass through the smoke as though it were... well... smoke. "It can only be given, never taken."

A disheveled man in strange, foreign looking clothing sells decks of divination playing cards, promising that each one is "truly, spiritually attuned" to the person who buys it, promising that it will always lead them to brighter horizons. Inspection reveals that they all have scantily clad men and women on them of various species.

A large being with stone grey skin that seems to have nodules growing on it is wearing furs and leathers, carrying a massive axe. They lead an aurochs that has hundreds of small stone charms woven into it's thick fur, weighing the creature down with an earthen coat. The goliath promises that each stone is saturated with a generational memory put there by his "master", and that if you cup the stone between two hands you will experience an ancient memory. Different memories have different costs, but no one who purchases one and tries the technique looks disappointed with their purchase.

All of these oddments and oddities are, to some minor degree, magical under the gaze of a detection spell.

[Awful]

Hylusi Quaternaros, Magus of Bleakpines Magework Necromancer Darkvision: 60ft AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 14 PIv: 14 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: detect magic 5/5 d6 HD Arcane recovery 1/1 Spell Slots- 3/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Fingerbone staff 10/10 The Plate Stall The Magus sent an amused thrum to the Prince over the stall-holder's protestations, and stepped up next to him. Her next words were more widely spread, so both merchant and princeling could hear. <Oh, but they are wrong. I should know - I have oft met those so depicted - at least, those who actually exist. Tell me, merchant. Did you intend to slander the royal families with your depictions, or did you merely consider it secondary to your profit?> Her hot-ember eyes fixed on the man, her expression as grim as ever to hide her growing amusement at the man's discomfort. Rest of the Market The Magus spent a short time watching other people attempt the puzzle - what worked and what didn't before she would attempt herself. Most of the man's wares were children's toys, worthless baubles for one such as herself - or the royal couple - but the promise of a magical gem piqued her hunger for magical doodads and the ability to flex her mental capacity her pride. Only a fool, a child, or a foolish child wanted non-magical trinkets. Such things were unnecessary wastes. But magical items were entirely different, of course. She approached the mustachioed man, servitors following behind, and extended a hand for the box. <I will open it,> her mental voice buzzed to the clockwork merchant. <I am sure it will be no issue for a scion of Bleakpines such as myself.> For a moment, she turned it over in her hands, seeing the dials and cranks, feeling the weight. There - hold back that switch, turn that, press it that, another thing to twist, but not too far - utilising all three hands, she frowned, and finally jabbed a button with a thumb. The cube made a sharp mechanical sound - and no shock came. As it began to open, she nodded, satisfied, to herself. <A matter of ease.> --- The crystal merchant drew her attention the most, however. It seemed well fitting - the sound aspect for the husband, and the divination for the wife. He seemed somewhat like an elf, which drew her attention, being somewhat of an elf herself, but the description that the crystals grew lured her interest for real. She examined him more closely, eyes narrowed, and she searched her mind for a bigger clue of what both he and his products were. The crystals were certainly magical; no worthless trinket they would be, but all the same, she was searching for something obscure.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Nat 20 for a 24 to open the box.

22 in Nature to identify the crystals and the star elf.

[purepolarpanzer]

The Plate Stall

"Nn...nnnooo my... lady! I didn't even make these! Just sell them! I would never imagine to insult the royal family! Either side of em! Puh...puh..please don't take offense!" The man seems terrified and confused by the psychic communication, by the difference in power and authority, and even more so by the accusation of slander. No doubt visions of guillotines dance in his head. "Perhaps... perhaps a penance? A pittance, I'm sure, but I would be happy to donate a wedding gift out of my sales to the royal family as... apology! To prevent further misunderstandings! And... ah... any repercussions?" He removes a hefty purse from under the counter of his stall and offers it to Hylusi, head inclined in either deference, shame, or fear.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

The purse contains 100 gold Wissimvale Crowns.

The Clockwork Merchant

The large, potbellied man twists the corners of his moustache as Hylusi twists knobs and turns dials to work on the intricate clockwork puzzle. Sometimes a sliding tile must be put in the right place to solve a visual riddle, sometimes a leap of logic is needed to determine which button to press among some number. The closer Hylusi gets to solving the puzzle, the more the crowd leans in around her and the more interest the merchant's wares receive, until the final loud click sounds, the entire device blossoming open like a flower to reveal a small ellipsoid gem, slightly hazy and roughly the size of a hefty humanoid thumb.

"There, you see! My puzzles are not impossible! They are just difficult to master! Once you have solved them they make excellent containers to store precious goods! Come one, come all, and test your wits! Each puzzle is only one hundred gold pieces!" He begins doing a busy trade, and he twists his moustache and looks at Hylusi with a large toothy smile. "Thank you for demonstrating my puzzles, my Lady. You may keep your prize gem, but I would ask my puzzle returned unless you wish to buy it. May the god of knowledge bless you with the logic needed to solve all problems set before you!"

When the gem is lifted from the puzzle, it rises from Hylusi's hand and begins to orbit her head. She has heard stories of legendary stones of the ancient god Ioun, but unlike these fabled gems this pale yellow oval doesn't have a strong aura and doesn't connect to her own soul's aura in a symbiotic connection. The gem does, however, brighten in a soft light, difficult to see under sunlight. Upon thinking that it is difficult to see the light, it immediately changes color to a lovely pale blue. Hylusi finds that with a simple mental command she can change the color of the gem to any color that she wishes. When clasped in her palm the light is blocked, but it otherwise provides bright light for twenty feet and dimmer light for another twenty, much like a torch.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Ioun Stone of Illumination. Common rarity, no attunement required. 20 ft bright light, 20 ft dim light. Color change with an action.

[NiKkatsu]

Maker Kunnian AC: 15 | HP: 38/38 | HIT DICE: 5d8+10 Speed: 25ft | Initiative: +2 Passive Perception: 11 | Passive Insight: 11 Conditions: --- Kunnian shook her head politely when the centaur asked about the priest of Dahm, then her smile brightened when the bunny said he was also looking for a gift for the royals. ''Ooh! Yay! Let's do that together then. Or better yet, race ya to it!'' She exclaims, and then zips off. She stops suddenly and turns on her heel, flicking to each of them a single gold coin with a 'K' etched into them: ''Don't worry about us getting separated, I can find you easily with these coins. Don't lose them and don't spend them, either.'' She winks: ''See ya later!'' She zips off once more. - squid tanks - Kunnian can't help herself: she stops to wave back at the cheerful squids. She claps when they perform their art and, since her speak with animals spell hadn't completely run out yet, she asks the squids if they are happy. If at least one of them replies that they aren't, she will feel bad for them and purchase one of the tanks. If not, she bids them farewell and moves on to the next stall. - divination cards - Kunnian is intrigued by the divination cards, and decides to buy a set for herself. When she inspects them, however, she blushes slightly. ''''Who are these men and women? Do you know any of them?'' she asks as she exchanges coin for one of the decks of cards. - the goliath - Finally, as Kunnian walks by the goliath, she suddenly thinks to herself: << Meaning and memory! This might be just the thing. >> ''Excuse me sir! Sir? Down here!'' She waves at the huge goliath to attract his attention. ''Hi! I'm looking for a gift for the royal couple. Something of meaning and memory. I think your pebbles might just be the perfect thing! Any memory that might be meaningful in this situation? A great wedding that will consecrate peace among warring nations... Anything comes to mind? Here, let me help you think.'' As she says so, she spins her bandore around her shoulders so it lands into her hands. She begins: ''A song of mind, a song of time. To find a meaningful memory of miiiiine.'' a wisp of golden light vaguely resembling a musical note takes form and flies towards the merchant. Spinning around his head for a moment, the mote appears to be dancing and pops if he actually thinks of something, emitting colorful harmless sparks.

[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- The Plate Stall Wearing an amused grin at the plate merchant's panicked apology, Prince Doredan raises his hand, "If our esteemed foreign dignitary is satisfied that the honor of our new allies has not been besmirched, then I am mollified. After all, bad art is not a punishable offense," he sways his hand towards the plates of fictional elven royals. "However, take care with false advertising in the future, merchant." Leaving the gold to Hylusi and hoping that the quivering man has learned a valuable lesson, he steps away. The Shaman of the Grasses "Oh, that sounds très bien, shamaness, very good. I will take two," he declares cheerily. One for the newly wedded couple and their - presumably - shared bed. To suggest otherwise would be distasteful, after all. And the second for himself. No reason that the Prince should not treat himself on this lovely shopping trip. The Squid Tank Walking up behind a gnomess currently perusing the squids' clever displays, Prince Doredan rubs his chin and smiles. "Magnifique!" he applauds their show, and curiously glances at the gnome who is making faces and bubbling noises at the tiny creatures. The fair folk and their descendants are rather odd, so it could well be mere eccentricity, but still asks sociably, "Do they talk back?" Spoiler: Rolls Show (1d20+3)[4] Nature or Arcana to identify the squids, both are the same modifier The Monster Hunter On his walk through the market Doredan comes upon the seller of hunters' trophies. Hunting of fantastical and dangerous beasts is a age-old passtime of nobility, but one the Prince in his youth has not been afforded the chance to enjoy. War and all. So he strolls through the displays with awe on his face, coming eventually to the stingers. He recalls his instruction on proper handling and application of wyvern venom, renowned for its potency. "Do you have any of the venom for sale?" he asks the seller. Spoiler Show (1d20+3)[21] Nature or Arcana to identify the eye and anything else interesting Happy Mask Salesman "A sister soul?" the prince asks, as he passes by the reptilian beast and its manifold, colorful pieces of cargo. Looking over each of the masquerades, he admires the varied elements incorporated into each one. Spoiler Show (1d20+3)[14] Arcana or Religion to identify the masks Another +2 if History would apply to identify their cultural significance and origin The Dancing Man Stopping in his patrol of the markets, Prince Doredan stares at the strange pair. "Are you quite alright?" he asks the fat man with a concerned knit in his brow.

[purepolarpanzer]

The Star Eyed Elf

The elf chimes the crystal with a metal bar, causing it to grow several inches as a powerful reverberation chimes through the air. Hylusi has special insight into these creatures- she has studied them for her own transformation. These otherworldly beings are elves from another plane, considered cursed by most of their cousins who are local to this world. Theirs is an ancient and sad tale, considered a stern story of warning in the lands of Everarbor.

Hundreds of years ago, a strange ship sailed down from the stars, and little is known about it except that several hundred star eyed elves were found in the forest where it descended. These black eyed elves made their way to the nearest elvish queendom and pleaded with a local royals for sanctuary, stating that they were travelers from a distant world who were brought here by evil, slaving spider demons. The Queen was about to give them sanctuary in their lands, when the arcane-inclined King scanned them with a spell and announced that they had the influence of monsters in their bodies and in their blood. Rumors spread like widlfire that they were tainted, cursed, and to be shunned, and so it was. The star eyed elves became nomads, travelling all over the world in their lonely caravan, the only examples of their bloodline in the world, and it looks like on of them found their way here. Most educated elves only feel sad for the Star Elves, feeling they were shunned and mistreated for alteration to their body outside their control, but a substantial majority of elves, especially the less educated, believe them bad luck at best and mutants to be run off at worst.

Hylusi also knows that the crystals were brought here by the star elves, claiming it was cargo on the demon spider's ships that they stole. They taught some about the divination techniques, which involved playing multiple tones to make different color crystals grow around each other and entwine. It, like most divination, is a highly suspect and not incredibly reputable school of magic, by Hylusi knows there are powerful elvish wizards in Everarbor who swear by this method of determining the future without expending spell power.

The Squid Stall

When Kunnian claps for the squids, they wave their tentacles out of the water and do small dances in their bowls. The magic of the gnome make communication with the creatures easy enough, and when asked if they are happy the respond in a small, burbling chorus "We are fed. We get to go in the big tank and swim and play and dance at night. We are happy. Miss home, but happy. Master teach us tricks, tricks buy shrimp, shrimp taste good fresh. Yum. You like shrimp small one? Maybe you change color, master feed you shrimp, you come with us?"

Doredan has no idea about these strange, squiddy creatures. They almost look like alien beasts from another world. But they seem harmless enough, especially with a gnome burbling happily with them.

Divination Stall

The shabbily dressed man takes Kunnian's coins quickly, deposits them into a hidden pocket in his coat, and gently encourages the gnome to leave him alone. "The girls and guys? I don't know 'em. Not my business. I'm in sales, not in production. Gonna have to talk to the artist about that. You wanna meet em? Tough luck. They're from a city far from here. You're runnin the wrong cat up a tree kid. Just take yer dirty cards and get out of here. Once a month under a full moon, they'll set ya true, but don't use em too much. Gods don't approve of people who do spoilers. Get outa here, friend, yer crampin my style..." He looks very beleaguered by the curious gnome, haphazardly trying to hawk his wares and shuffle off the curious Wyrd gnome simultaneously.

The Goliath's Memory Stones

The goliath smiled at Kunnian's words, considering them carefully before searching for a stone charm on the creature's coat before using a stone blade to saw the hair off and free the charm. "Shaper Glomluch calls this "The Battlefield's Death. I will give you a taste, but you will have to buy to see the full story." He pressed the stone down, large enough to fill a gnomish palm, and In a pristine moment Kunnian's mind is filled with imagery, sensations, and feelings.

Spoiler: The Battlefield's Death

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Kunnian feels massive and solid. Strong and ancient. Sitting on a hill, staring down at a battlefield. Time passed quickly in the dream. Man fought man. Elf fought elf. Dwarf fought dwarf. Even the foolish hill giants fought each other. Skeletons filled the field below, each corpse consumed over the years by flowers, grass and moss. The battles troubled Kunnian's ancient brow, but for every momentary flash of warfare, bloodshed, and hate there were many years of growth, flourishing, and plenty for the tiny, insignificant animals that called the hill and the field their home, which made Kunnian smile a smile slower than ice melting in the spring. Slower than the movements of the real world under the earth. Yet, with how fast, hazy, and tiring as the Dream was, it was the smiles Kunnian remembered best, not the fires of war. And one day the battles stopped, and then the children of the various peoples played amongst the graves of their ancestors, gathering flowers that were the plow shares of a millennia of war. And it was a good Dream.

Kunnian wakes to the Dream... or... the real world... after the goliath gives her a small shake. "Are you alright, stoneling? Shaper Glomluch's memories are strong. You must be careful not to be overwhelmed."

The Monster Hunter

The adventurer monster slayer looks at the swords wielding prince, and there is a moment of acknowledgement as both recognize the other as a capable, potentially deadly individual. Which is no reason to not be impolite, with the scarred woman rubbing the back of her head and grinning at the royal. "Venom? HA! Had more than my fair share of the burning death poured into my own veins in my days. Managed to catch and capture some too, when the gods were nice enough to let me keep that part of the beastie intact. But selling poisons and venoms is... uh... illegal in Wissimvale. I'd never imagine to sell that stuff round here." The woman looks nervously at a roving guard who turned his nose in interest to the conversation, but the guard spotted Doredan and knew that the Prince was far more capable of handling any ill doing than him, turning away quickly and minding his business. The monster hunter, seemingly not knowing Doredan's position, shakes her head. "Sorry friend, you'd have to go to Everarbor to find someone who deals in such things legally."

The massive eye is a fossilized Beholder eye lens. Though you doubt it sustains any magic, this relic of a Beholder killed and preserved ages ago couldn't be attributed to this monster hunter, a woman in her early thirties at most. But it is a amazing trophy, and likely a a good story in how such a curio could be aquired.

The Reptilian Mask Merchant

Doredan can identify positively some of the masks on the lizardfolk's pack beast, but most of them are strange and alien. At least one looks like it is made from night sky and star stuff in a fantastical sense, and Doredan begins to wonder if some of them are from entirely different worlds, as the night mask shows three moons instead of two.


Reverse Organ Grinder

When asked by Doredan if he is ok, the obese man, wearing only a tiny vest and tight shorts, looks to someone passing by who tosses a coin to the monkey. Returning his gaze to Doredan, the large man shrugs. "It's a living." Then continues to dance to the music and the small monkey begins to turn the crank on the musical instrument faster.

[Awful]

Hylusi Quaternaros, Magus of Bleakpines Magework Necromancer Darkvision: 60ft AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 14 PIv: 14 PIs: 11 Conditions: Concentrating on: detect magic 5/5 d6 HD Arcane recovery 1/1 Spell Slots- 3/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Fingerbone staff 10/10 The Plate Stall The Magus let the man cook for a long minute before finally she clicked her fingers. A spectral hand plucked the purse from the man's outstretched hands and flicked it towards the silent servitors. Tui, the gold-masked, stepped forwards again to neatly catch it and tuck it away. Gold, coin-shaped or not, had value for spellcasters, even if peddling in money itself was unworthy. <Very well. I will accept this act of penance.> She began to turn away, face still gravely expressionless, a grey funeral mask. <Do consider your business partners more carefully when it comes to quality. Not all are as merciful as I.> She was a dozen steps away when, just to the Prince again, the mental link trilled with her mirth. <My, my. I wonder if he'll have enough courage to try to sell the rest to make up for what he just gave away? I dread to think how many of those awful pieces of porcelain might be going to curse some family's cabinet.> Potbellied Puzzle Merchant The puzzle was, admittedly, more difficult than she expected. Carefully, her hands skittered across the surfaces, her mind picking it apart a fragment at a time - and when it came open, she realised a crowd had formed to watch. She watched the crystal lift from her palm and begin to orbit, only half paying attention to the merchant's words. For a moment she considered it. But no - the Princess was her mental equal. If she had solved the puzzle, certainly Dei could - and it didn't fit as a gift for the human, either. With an easy shrug, she let one hand hold it forth. <Take it,> she sent easily, one of the servitors gently taking the puzzlebox from her proffered grip to pass it along to the fat human. <I have no value in a puzzle already solved.> Instead, she was more interested in the Ioun stone. She knew what they were, of course. There were many kinds, all told, some more useful than others - but for something that had let her flex her mind and demonstrated her ability, this would do perfectly sufficient as a prize. She let the little gem continue its orbit for a moment longer, then plucked it out of the air. It would be better than candles when reading tomes, without the risk of fire or the indignity of the cool moonlight of her moontouched knife. Pleased, she continued on her way. Star Elf Hylusi had an academic interest in the star elves - transformed creatures, changed from their original flesh into something new. Hylusi did not pity these strangers from another star - but she did not scorn or depise them, either. A star elf (predeceased, admittedly) had been an important research material when creating the fourarmed flesh she now wore. The source for her interest was obvious, in that aspect. The lonely wretches rarely came to Bleakpines, the land hostile even if the people themselves were surprisingly welcoming to the shunned. The people of Bleakpines, after all, were used to a fell reputation. <Greetings, cousin of the Long Path,> she sent to the elf as she approached. She inclined her head in a nod. What was the old greeting? Ah, yes. It had not originated with the star elves, but it seemed certainly fitting. <Skies gaze upon you kindly.> Once the pleasantries were out of the way, she gestured to the minerals before her with a slender grey hand. <I am interested in your crystals. They will be a gift for someone - someones, rather - important.>

Spoiler: OOC

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[RandomWombat]

Prince Doredan Human Martial Bard 5 AC: 14 HP: 25/33 PP: 9 PIv: 11 PIs: 9 Conditions: --- The Plate Stall "I shudder at the crime against the arts," the Prince agrees, with a shake of his head, after they leave the stall. "But trinkets and baubles are harmless, when the one selling them is honest about their quality." The Monster Hunter "Oh!" Prince Doredan laughs and smacks himself in the forehead. "Of course, we do not want those without the requisite skills to hurt themselves or others handling such things carelessly." When the guard comes near, Doredan waves him off with a smile, and elaborates for the adventurer, "It is likely beyond the allotment for this shopping trip, in any case. I am Prince Doredan Reydalise, of Wissimvale. A pleasure to make your acquaintance." He offers the monster huntress a handshake. Informal for a prince, perhaps. But a gesture of respect between dangerous people skilled with the blade. "Though it is uncommon knowledge, I am a practitioner of mithridatism. The venoms I was using, of snakes and scorpions, are not potent enough to be useful, now. So I am scouting potential sources of stronger venom." "Have you ever trained a wyvern for riding? You hear fanciful tales of such things," he asks curiously, interested in stories of foreign adventures even if he would not be finding any exotic and tasty poisons today. Happy Mask Salesman Taking a closer look at the mask of the starry night sky, Prince Doredan waves the saleman over. "How much for this one?" he inquires, intrigued by its design. The Dancing Man Pursing his lip and nodding his head, Prince Doredan deposits twenty gold coins in the man's earnings. If he is willing to do this much for coin, he probably needs it.

[NiKkatsu]

Maker Kunnian AC: 15 | HP: 38/38 | HIT DICE: 5d8+10 Speed: 25ft | Initiative: +2 Passive Perception: 11 | Passive Insight: 11 Conditions: --- Squid Games Kunnian is overjoyed at the squid's response and is caught off guard when the man asks her about them talking back: ''Everything can talk. You just need the proper attunement, need to learn to hear their song, so to speak.'' She shrugs before adding: ''And who might you be? Are you also here for the wedding? You look, um... proper!'' Memory Stones A tear was rolling down Kunnian's cheek as she came to: ''That... was beautiful! Your master is truly an artist. Lesser men and women would spend a lifetime honing their skills and never come up with anything as magnificent.'' The gnome was starry-eyed, truly moved and impressed by what she had just experienced, and her voice trembled as though she was about to cry: ''And that was only a glimpse you say? This, my friend, is a gift fit for a king and a queen. I... am without words other than: how much?'' As the coin is exchanged, she puts out her other hand and shakes the man's free hand vigorously. With a more confident voice she adds: ''Maker Kunnian sends her sincerest regards to Shaper Glomluch, dear.''

[truemane]

Felicity Fourhooves Centaur Paladin 5 AC: 17 HP: 44 PP:10 PIv: 09 PIs: 10 Lay on Hands: 25/25 Spell Slots: 4/2 Felicity was equally delighted when Kunian said she wanted to go shopping together. But then she was equally delighted when the little Gnome scampered off, leaving magical coins behind, and claiming she could find them anywhere. And, although it was concerning that more than one person was searching for the High Priest, she was glad to have a companion in her quest. "We can search for him together," she said to the Harengon, "Do you know what he looks like? Does he have, maybe, a very fancy hat?" Wandering (presumably with Bil) through the market, Felicity scanned the stalls and booths and all the wonders therein, her face tight with concentration. None of this was quite right. When she saw the older centaur she smiled and galloped over. First, she bowed, arms wide, in a show of obeisance and submission (as was proper when addressing an elder). Then she said, "Eldermare, I'm so happy to see one of the Folk so far from hill and meadow. I am looking for a present for the Royal Couple. In the Grymwood, I remember there was a flower that grew there that our clan named songblossom. It only bloomed when two sounds touched it in harmony. Do you, by chance, have such a thing? I would be eternally grateful and owe you a service." (She also noted a human who looked remarkably like Prince Dorendon walking away from the stall, but that can't be right, can it? She kept her attention on the centaur - it would be very rude to look distracted - but she marked where the human went, just in case)

[jscape2000]

Bil Twilight Cleric of Damh AC: 18 HP: 33/33 THP: PP: 17 PIv: 11 PIs: 17 Conditions: Concentrating on: 5 / 5 d8 HD Spell Slots- 4/4 1st, 3/3 2nd, 2/2 3rd Bil catches Kunnian’s coin with a flourish. “Useful. Does it work in reverse?” After purchasing the best of the mirrors as a wedding present, he makes his way through the market. He’s had so few needs lately, that he is unimpressed with the trinkets and charms he sees. Life can be so fleeting. Damh teaches you to live in the moment. Bil should revel in the little boosts of arcane or divine power the charms provide. But he finds himself looking for something more lasting. He listens with interest to the tale of the star elves, hearing echoes of the way his own fey ancestors were treated upon entering mortal realms. He negotiates briefly with the gem merchant for the ioun stone. He’s meant to use his own powers to create something similar but hadn’t yet invested in the gem dust he would need to imbue an item with permanent light. As he chats amiably and casually with the vendors, showing the holy symbol inscribed on his shield to those who seem they might recognize it, and inquiring after the high priest. ”my message is for my holy brother, if you have seen him. I, Tramunbil Mabovoh, have left a similar message with trusted confidants at the castle, should you see him.” He also looks for an armorer, who might be able to provide him with an upgrade.