D&D 5e: Arcana of the Ancients (IC)

[purepolarpanzer]

D&D 5e: Arcana of the Ancients
Part One: The Hills of Crooked Sleep

Spoiler: Reasons to Come to the Fair

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Spoiler: Kite Fighting, Games, and Contests

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Other than cyphers, the main draw of the Caracara Fair has always been the entertainments and distractions that come with many fairs all over the world. Chief among them is the Kite Fighting Contest, which draws people from near and far, but there are also drinking contests, performance art contests, knife dueling, and more. Victories in the contests will win you fair tokens, and fair tokens can be exchanged for prizes... including cyphers!

Spoiler: Just Another Day's Work

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Most people are going to the fair to enjoy it, but some of you may have been hired to work at the fair. You may be a performer, a security guard, or a merchant, come from away to make your fortune here. If so, you worked while the fair was getting set up and are due for a break in your shift.

Spoiler: Meeting a Friend

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Rodor the Rat is a human merchant of questionable sources and ethics. They always seem to know what you need, and for the right price they can provide just about anything. You may have met Rodor in her merchant capacity, or you may be a personal friend, but either way you received a message from Rodor some time ago asking that you meet her at the Caracara fair. It also said "At last year's fair, I won a magic trinket of a sort I've never seen. No one knew where it came from. We need to find out. Help me, and I'll split the proceeds with you. See you there!"

Spoiler: Searching for the Wizard

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You either know Umeli the Mage or you were hired by people looking for her. She has been hard to find for the last year, but all clues pointed towards her buying a house in the town of Caracara. You either mean to catch up with her, you were hired to find her, or you've got a grudge with her that must be satiated- she is a notoriously stern and condescending woman, even to her friends.

Spoiler: Solving a Mystery

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From a friend of an acquaintance who you beat in a game of chance you have received a strange object-
A silvery, light, metallic packet with something inside. The loser you got it from said it came from Caracara, as did a fortune teller who also stated you could find answers about it there. You've come to Caracara to find out what it is, what it does (if anything), and if there are more.

The dry, dusty road to Caracara passes over a natural ridge in the landscape, revealing series of weirdly leaning grass-covered downs rolling away to the north. A shallow valley opens below, which seems filled by a sea of tents and tiny colorful kites. It is the first day of an event that lasts a tenday, the summer sun is shining down on the small frontier town, and there is a steady flow of people making their way down to the valley for today's celebration, with more so already arrived. You all find yourselves on the road for various reasons, but all those reasons lead into the one time sleepy town of Caracara, now a burgeoning, bustling center of commerce and entertainment. Around you are people of eclectic fashions and purpose, some driving carts and some carrying only what they can manage on their back and their belt. Of note, however, is a tall half-elven woman wearing a dress of multicolored faux feathers and fabrics, standing at the edge of the road and looking out towards the stilted mounds with a look of confusion on her pretty, angular features. She lifts a large, impractical hat off her head and uses it to shade her eyes. "I swear I saw a man in red robes out there... where did he go?" After a few seconds she shrugs and continues on her way toward the valley and the festivities, each step sending up a dancer's ruffle of fabric.

Spoiler: OOC

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Feel free to introduce your character, describe them, and role play out your chosen purpose to be at the fair. Fate has chosen for you all to be at various points of the road at the same time. Sorry the picture shows their fair at night, but that will come soon enough.

[Inmate XIII]

A smirk spreads across the scraggly human's face as he approaches a lanky elf. The merchant is careless; half-drunk with her heavy purse hanging off of the back of her belt. Even a novice pickpocket would find this elf an easy target and he was no novice. Keeping his eyes on the merchant herself, ensuring he wasn't spotted, he reached out slowly to claim his prize. Just as his fingers brushed against the purse, a hand landed on his shoulder with a bone-crushing grip.

Glowering down at him was a muscular half-orc, fury shining in his violet eyes. Before he knew it, the pickpocket found himself being violently thrown into a jail cell, hands bound behind his back. The paladin turned and left without another word. The jailer only chuckled. "You interrupted the first real break he's gotten in days, lad. Be glad he didn't break your legs."

Lieutenant Greck Shieldbiter stepped out into the sun, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back to enjoy the warmth. Tall and broad, his slate-grey face was pocked with various scars, some of which stretched all the way up to his shaved scalp.

Most of the passersby stared at him and a few even to whispered to each other, but Greck ignored them. It wouldn't be proper for a paladin of Tyr to take offense to such minor slights. Besides, even he had to admit that he was a strange sight to behold. His chain armor and spiked warhammer were undoubtedly of orcish make, yet the shield he bore and the amulet he had around his neck both blazoned the symbol of Tyr, marking him as a disciple of the god of Justice. A strange sight he was indeed.

Just then, his stomach grumbled. He gave a sheepish shrug to an onlooker and started making his way over to the tent of, Baldwin, a dwarf he had met a few days before while helping to set the fair up. Baldwin made and absolutely fantastic spiced meat stew and was always happy to sneak Greck a free bowl for his help in putting the dwarf's tent up.

[Riggdgames]

Yusha Darwish Warforged Cleric Yusha hums happily to himself as his quill scratches along parchment. His hand floats confidently over the page, quietly transforming it from blank paper into a veritable masterpiece. Crisp lines give way to bold strokes, granting life to parchment that until now had just been waiting patiently to serve its purpose. The pair sitting across from him in the spacious stagecoach seem patient enough, but Yusha can feel the gentle vibration of a heel bouncing nervously. The one in leathers certainly seemed more anxious than the one in silks, though both appear too intent on the goings-on outside, despite a lack of activity. There was barely any foot traffic here behind the silk one's tent, but all the same they seemed keen to avoid staring at Yusha or the small eagle preening its feathers beside him. It's unlikely any of this would have elicited comment from the warforged even if he hadn't been so engrossed in his quill-work. While his calling may have dragged him into more caves than carnivals, Yusha nevertheless found the means to ply one trade or another whenever he re-entered civilization. One didn't have to be at the Grand Bazaar in Katapesh to find people in need of financial documents. Yusha holds up the notarized receipt, examining it as he clicks twice and gestures, sending a small puff of wind from his fingertips to carefully dry the ink. Satisfied, Yusha looks up from his work and hands each of the men a well-made bill of sale. Stepping outside the coach, he watches the two finish their deal as the leather one's apprentice straps a small chest to a mule already laden with saddlebags. Two men with spears and shortswords stand idle nearby, trying to hide their boredom even as Yusha beams down on two of Abadar's creatures executing a flawless transaction. Another gesture from Yusha and the image of a scale weighed down on one side by eight silver pieces forms in the air beside the three of them. Given the amount changing hands Yusha could have bartered for more, but they'd already set a price and adjusting it would have been improper. It was as Abadar willed it to be. These men had earned a blessing, no doubt, and Yusha was happy to play a part. He graciously accepts four silver from each, then changes the image to an empty scale with the words "go in balance" suspended underneath. The warforged smiles and bows his head before turning, catching Kalib on his outstretched arm as the two make their way back to the main thoroughfare.

[Theophilus]

Ar-Raaqis (Dragon) Faceless Warlock 3 AC: 14 HP: 24/24 THP: 0/10 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Spell Slots: 2nd - 2/2 Bottled Respite: 4/4 Hours Healer's Kit: 10/10 Dragon Conditions: --- Dragon Concentrating: --- The mountain roads yielded to a vista of woods and valley. The wind waved her midnight blue kimono as a banner, declaring her foreign presence. Yet, most eyes drifted to her silver veined gloves, smooth metal helm, and floating lantern before averting in discomfort at the lack of familiar features. The dusky plate over her face revealed nothing of the race behind her veil. She rested her hands on her strangely studded staff and gazed upon the vale before her. She reached out toward the town, extending her fingers and twisting them as if to pluck the bustling city from the ground. As she did, she recited the commands she had learned from the visor. In response, the town glowed with a soft red radiance. "Enhance. Two times. Sharpen." The voice that flowed from the visor rang hollow and deep, as if spoken through the hum felt in a lightning storm while standing inside a giant brass bell. Yet, the feminine tones clearly resonated within the speech. As she stood alone to observe the fabled Fountain of Mysteries, called Caracara to the natives, considered again her task. "The Channeler of the Ancients possesses many secrets best preserved in the sanctuaries of our Order. Tales whisper she is a living mountain, stern in bearing and scorching in her wrath. Yet, the Dragon's lair is the Mountain, and the scaled warrior carries its lair where it pleases." She gestured again, constructing a stone dragon statue around her as she knelt. A man on a horse and his scaled guard rounded the bend moments later. "Leaping salamanders! What daft artist took the effort to carve that queer monument? Always someone trying to show off during the Fair. An empty tower perched on that one to plant it on the eastern pass, when the main gate would get them more views." "Yes, sire." droned his guard who continued to tromp down the trail, minding the statue only long enough to gaze beyond to the prospect of wine and women. "Well, I look forward to meeting the real artists in Caracara. I loved the relic show last year. They had this Spoiler: cloak spun of silver Show that weighed no more than the breath on the back of your hand! Oh, I should have sold my horse for that! Said to mystically keep the wearer warm--even in a blizzard! Think of that, Geralt!" "Indeed, sire. A right wonder." The Dragon lurked and waited until the labor of the laden horse faded, along with its neighing master. Then the statue flickered, faded, and revealed the woman with her latern. She descended with quiet steps, curious to see these wondrous crafts and find the mysterious mage.

Spoiler: OOC

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Cast Guidance ("Enhance") and Minor Illusion (Sight).

[Amaril]

Calen Damora
Human Wizard 3
AC: 10 HP: 17/17

A skinny, clean-shaven young man with boyish features and a high forehead crests the rise, a little out of breath--it's been a while since he's made a trip like this on foot. Loose parchments nearly spill from his overfull pack. With his unassuming bearing, they would make it easy to take him for some hapless scribe, probably sent by some employer from the city on who'd-know-what thankless errand. One thing betrays such a guess: the cloak underneath said pack, unembroidered and dyed a vivid blue.

"At our current pace, we should arrive in just under an hour." The voice doesn't come from Calen's lips. A keen observer might pinpoint its source as a small rectangle of black synth hanging from a sling on his belt.

Just a few paces down the slope, one such observer perks up. A boy of perhaps seventeen, plainly dressed with dirt-smudged cheeks, steps theatrically onto the path as Calen approaches. His companion, a girl with a similar nose, maybe a year younger, hangs back out of the way.

"Hoy, friend!" The boy's smile is just a little too wide for comfort. "Headed for the festivities?"

Some instinct makes Calen stop, a line appearing between his brows. "That I am."

The stranger isn't subtle about glancing at the device on his hip. "Seems to me you've won a prize already. How much would you ask for that talking plate?"

Calen can't help but take a half step back, hand going to the tablet. "He--" He catches himself. "It's not for sale."

"That so?" The stranger follows him step for step.

"Cut it out, Reg!" the girl abruptly pipes up. She looks nearly as worried as Calen does. "Can't you see he's a wizard? Look at his cloak!"

Reg's eyes narrow. "Anyone can wear a blue cloak. He don't look like no wizard to me."

Calen takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders. "I am--"

The sound of hoofbeats and wheels from behind interrupts him, a carriage cresting the rise and heading their way. The driver's eyes are on them. Inwardly, Calen breathes a sigh of relief. "Going to go now. Good day." The boy holds his glare, but makes no move to stop Calen from passing.

Out of earshot, Calen lets out the breath he was holding. "Kip, I think we need to be more careful. Maybe you should keep quiet when we're not alone?"

The voice from the device sounds as cool and calm as before, but Calen's heard it enough to detect the note of annoyance. "If you think it's best."

"Just until we get to Umeli's, at least." The thought doesn't feel all that reassuring to him. After all, from the sound of things, Umeli hasn't seen anyone in quite a while.... Shaking his head, he pushes on. She's still the best lead he's got, and he's a colleague, officially, not just some stranger.

Not much further, now.

[Awful]

Shalar Yotul Azari Beast Barbarian 3 AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 13 Rages: 3/3 Conditions: --- Shalar was frowning. The dandy had slapped over her tankard. Beer frothed sadly over the edge of the table and into the grass. He was still talking, but the elf was no longer really listening to the words. "-move on, you savage, or perhaps my friends and I will teach you a bit of civili-" The swaggering bully-boy was still smirking when Shalar punched him in the face. All things considered, it was a pretty good punch; the orc-raised elf was a powerful, if somewhat short figure, their bear-skin clad figure showing a powerful tattooed physique for a species more commonly known for their delicate grace. The man's nose gave way with a satisfying crunch under Shalar's fist. He dropped, squealing, clutching at his face; blood squirted between his fingers. His crew of hangers-on and toadies took steps back or groped for the handles of daggers. One of the young women who had been previously attached to his arm let out a brief scream. Shalar swept her gaze across them - and something indefinable in her posture became harder and more prepared for violence. There were many strange folk at the fair - but none, perhaps, quite like Shalar Yotul Azari, warshifter, orc-in-mind. She stood above the concussed dandy, grinning widely down at him. A stick of heavily spiced meat dangled from the corner of her mouth like a bumpkin's haystalk. Her eyes were a startling scarlet, pupils slitted like a beast's. She had a pair of handaxes and a sturdy skullcracker hanging from straps at her waist-wraps, but she made no move to draw them. "Said to bother someone else, yes?" Shalar said. Her voice was curious mix of gutteral orcish from a naturally non-gutteral voice. She cast a regretful look at the tankard the rake had overturned. He'd thought that his group of cronies would have been enough to bully the lone elf into giving up her seat in front of the food tent; alas, but fear-wise he didn't quite match up to the Old Hill King that Shalar now wore the skin of. "Oo boke my bose!" the dandy shouted. Two of his friends were helping him up, glaring daggers at Shalar. She smiled back, showing teeth both white and sharp. "Yes!" Shalar exclaimed happily. She flexed her fingers before she balled them into fists."Come then! I break something else!" For a moment, the rakehell wavered between pride and pain before circumspection and cowardice won. "Uo'll reget tis!" He shouted as he turned and did his best to stalk away, dabbing at his nose with his fingers. His cronies followed, giving her dirty looks all the while. Shalar watched them go before she laughed and relaxed. "Hey, drugghoz!" she called to the dwarf running the food tent, using the orcish word for dwarf. "My tankard had accident! Need refill, yes!" As she waited for more beer, she mulled over things she'd overheard. She'd asked about, but few people here had heard of a metal pillar like the one in the Valley around here. There was supposedly a witch that lived here - Umili or something - but at the moment, she was just enjoying the fair. All the stalls and strange people were fascinating. There were even challenges for her to compete in, something she was looking forward. Yes, this seemed like this place would be fun.

[purepolarpanzer]

On the Road to the Caracara Fair

As Calen and the Dragon make their way down the hill to the fair, both of them have the sensation that they are being watched. The road becomes more crowded as you both move closer to the festivities, so it is easy to pass it off as some onlooker causing the hairs on your neck to rise or ignore it as a trick of the mind. Your journey down to the fair is uneventful, but the spirits of the travelers around you are high and a wandering minstrel adds some music to your journey using their lute.

Spoiler: Perception DC 20

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In the distance, standing on the far side of one of the oddly sloping hills and barely visible over the top, is a dark robed individual. It is very difficult to make out any details, but they seem to be wearing a helmet or a mask and a full body robe that covers their features completely. Just as you are noticing them they turn around and walk down the hill, moving out of your vision completely. You have the strangest sense of deja vu, as though you've seen them before far back in your past.

On the Main Thoroughfare of the Festivities

Greck has settled down for his bowl of stew, free of charge just as he figured, and Yusha is moving out of a tented area towards the dwarf's stall. Baldwin leans across the makeshift counter close to Greck with a wide smile on his face. "So, sir knight! What do you plan on doing with your time off? This dwarf pays special attention to the work schedules of the security, and I happen to know that you are coming off shift in a half hour when the sun is at it's highest. Plan on joining the drinking contest? Maybe paying a visit to the kissing booth? Or are you going to try your hand at the knife duels?" Further down the bench a well dressed young man with a drooping mustache knocks over the drink of a tattooed elf wearing a massive bear skin with a snigger that removes any doubt that it was intentional. "Oh, damn..." Says Baldwin just as the elf's fist impacts the human's nose, his silly mustache flying up as though to defend his face. Before Greck can intercede, Baldwin puts a hand on his chest to slow him down. "Now boyo, take a breath. He was obviously askin to get knocked around a bit, and she's not gonna kill him. You and I both know that the Fair Committee expects us to give outsiders a wee bit of leeway so we don't discourage them from comin back next year. Why don't we consider this a first strike against her and give her another chance or two? Not that I'm biased, mind you, even if she has already spent a gold piece on my food and ale..." Baldwin gives Greck a wink and a chuckle as the vanquished dandy grabs the arm of the woman he was courting and pulls her away, seemingly unwilling to make a fuss over a blow to the face even with a guard to witness it directly next to him. Probably seeking to avoid any further injury to his pride after being decked by a woman. When Shalar calls for more ale, Baldwin dutifully refills her mug, getting a good head of foam on top before slamming it down in front of her. "This one's on me, lass. You're not the first that jackass has harassed. I only feel bad for the girl he's dragging around." Just as Baldwin is finishing pouring, a fanfare of brass instruments goes up, announcing that it is noon, the fair is fully open, and the midway, contests, and performers are ready for business.

A Day at the Fair

The Fair is divided into several sections. The entrance area to the fair is devoted to food and drink, the midway beyond it is home to games of chance and skill, as well as the Pavilion of Prizes where fair tokens can be exchanged for rewards. If you move beyond the midway there are a number of tents devoted to contests, arts and crafts, and other entertainments. Just outside the village is a large paddock and barn with hastily erected stands for agricultural exhibits, and the furthest edge of town is a residential district that is untouched by the fair for locals to get some peace and quiet. Everything is open until late into the evening, finally closing down for a Midnight Madness Summer Dance and fireworks that caps off the evening. Wandering around the fair are judges, identified by tall yellow banners standing up from their back, who preside over the contests and games, rewarding those who impress, place well, or win with fair tokens. These tokens are near worthless brass coins with a raven stamped into both sides. No matter what event or game you are interested in, each one costs two silver pieces to partake in.

Spoiler: OOC

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First of all, each of you is getting 10 bonus gold that you've managed to save up for the festivities. Spend it on entry fees if you like, or save it as my gift to you. Either way, here is a list of all the events that are open to you to win Fair Tokens. Some of them are not suited for Ironborn, unfortunately, but I'm sure Yusha can find something fun to do.

All the different games and events would technically take different amounts of time to participate in, and all of them would have different DC's depending on the competition, but for the sake of Play By Post we are going to simplify things a bit. All of you have time to participate in four contests and unlimited games of chance (or at least only limited by your funds). For all games and contests, if you roll 15 or higher you place or impress a judge and win 1 Fair Token. If you roll a 20 or higher you win the contest and win 2 Fair Tokens. We will discuss prizes more when everyone is finished their games, but you need 4 Fair Tokens to trade for a random cypher. There are a variety of other prizes for less tokens that are flavorful, and a few that may be mechanically advantageous. You can make up and roleplay any game of chance you want, but here are the preestablished contests for you to try. You may join in a contest more than once, as new rounds start shortly after a contest concludes.

Spoiler: Games of Strength

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Spoiler: Wrestling

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Contestants strip down to their small clothes, oil up, and wrestle in a ring while onlookers cheer. It is two our of three falls, with judges awarding one fair token to those who impress or show particular fighting spirit, and the winner in each round receiving two.

Spoiler: Arm Wrestling

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Contestants line up on either side of a make shift bar and try to cause their partner's hand to hit the bar.

Spoiler: Games of Fortitude

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Spoiler: Drinking Contest

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Several fairgoers are seated at a long table in the food and drink area. A banner overhead reads "Contest of Heroic Drinking". A few revelers are passed out and snoring at the table. A gray bearded man shaped like a muscular barrel is pouring drinks from a small keg of strong ale, with your 2 silver pieces covering as many drinks as you can handle in an hour. Once every mug is filled participants take turn proposing a toast, everyone drinks, the cups are filled if they are empty, and the process starts again. You place by coming in second or third as far as full mugs drunk, and first by outdrinking all comers in your hour.

Spoiler: Pie Eating Contest

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The name says it all. Each round you try to eat as many pies in twenty minutes as you can.

Spoiler: Games of Skill and Dexterity

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Spoiler: Dancing

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A large group of fair goers in extravagant dress and painted, carved masks dance in the center of a massive tent with planks laid down to make a hard floor. Your two silver pieces rents you an outfit and mask.

Spoiler: Dueling

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Participants are assigned partners and rapiers. The duels are to first blood, so agility matters more than strength. If you have proficiency in rapiers, you may add your proficiency bonus to this contest.

Spoiler: Games of Intelligence

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Spoiler: Kite-fighting

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A colorful collection of kites hovers over this field. Many kites bear fantastic decorations and a few have long tails or are made to look like creatures. Popular among locals are kites made up to look like falcons. To win or place you must sever the lines of other competitors. Your two silver pieces rents you a basic, unadorned kite. If you want, you may deduct two gold from your money and say you prepared for this contest by making a kite of your own. If you do, you may add your proficiency bonus to the roll, since it is assumed your practiced with your kite. For those looking for an extra edge, there is a stall selling professionally made kites for ten gold that give you advantage on your rolls.

Spoiler: Riddles

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A small tent is set up, and each contestant is given a small scrap of paper and a piece of charcoal. You write your own riddle on the paper and put it in a cauldron. A riddle is selected at random, and the first in line (determined randomly) is asked to solve it. If they can't, they are eliminated and the next person is asked. Therefore, being last in line is a great advantage, as it gives you more time to think.

Spoiler: Games of Wisdom

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Spoiler: Poetry

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A cluster of earnest young people clutch tattered books and scrolls. They take turns reciting beautiful or epic poems. You may make up your own poem (if you do you roll at advantage) or recite a famous poem.

Spoiler: Memory

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Tiles are scrambled up and set down in a slotted floor face down. They are turned up, revealing colors painted on them, for a minute. Then they are scrambled again, and the contestant has to return as many of the tiles back to their original position as possible

Spoiler: Games of Personality

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Spoiler: Tall Tales

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This tent is always very busy, as a crowd sits on benches before a raised stage. Regular folks, skilled speakers, and everything in-between take turns telling exaggerated stories to impress the crowd and a judge. You may add your proficiency bonus if you have preform or oratory for skills.

Spoiler: Singing

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Set up on a public pavilion, participants take turns singing alone or in small groups to impress a crowd and a judge. Contestants range from skilled to horrendous, and everything in between. If you have proficiency in preform or singing you may add your proficiency bonus to this roll.

Spoiler: For Those Who Aren't Interested in Games or Prizes

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One of your activities (you can mix and match) can be investigating rumors of Umeli, the missing wizard. No prizes for this activity, persay, but if does involve a DC 12 Investigation check to hunt for clues. If you choose this activity it will be done last so I can roleplay all who pursue it meeting up at her home in the quiet part of the town.

For any who wish to participate, I would prefer you format your post something like this-

Spoiler: Fair Games and Contests Posts

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Exposition detailing what you do around the fair, what you're interested in, your reactions and what you may enjoy watching.

Spoiler: Event One

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A small description of how you prepare, how you feel about the event, and how you intend to win it. [roll]1d20[roll].

Spoiler: Event Two

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A small description of how you prepare, how you feel about the event, and how you intend to win it. [roll]1d20[roll].

Spoiler: Event Three

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A small description of how you prepare, how you feel about the event, and how you intend to win it. [roll]1d20[roll].

Spoiler: Event Four

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A small description of how you prepare, how you feel about the event, and how you intend to win it. [roll]1d20[roll]. If you intend to pursue Umeli, this is where you post how you ask people about her, hunt for clues, or organize your search.

Spoiler: Games of Chance

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You may play as many games of chance here as you want. If you decide you want to do more than you originally post you can always play more on the discord. If you have proficiency in a gaming set, you may play that game and add your proficiency bonus to the stat that makes the most sense. If you don't have proficiency, it is just a pure luck roll.

I will respond with a brief description of how you do in each event and the Fair Tokens you are rewarded with before we move on to prize time. There will also be a section of the post for those who hunt for Umeli. Then the plot kicks in. Sound fun to everyone?

[Inmate XIII]

"First off, I've told you I'm no knight; not officially anyway and the Chuch makes a big deal over that. Second, what makes you think I intended to stop her? Was gonna have 'im join the other troublemakers if he decided to continue. 'Summing I didn't need to drag 'im to the infirmary first." Greck put down his spoon and poured the rest of the bowl down his throat, pausing to savor the peppery burn. "Anyway, to answer the question, the duels I'm avoiding. Too clumsy, don't like knives, see? Brute like me better off sticking to what I'm good at. Drink doesn't sound half bad though, haven't had one since I got here, frowned upon to drink on duty and all. Maybe have a scrap, been a while since I've fought someone friendly-like." He stood up and handed the empty bowl to the dwarf. "Alright, I'm goin'. Thanks for the meal and holler if any more eejits show up. Break or no, duty is duty."

---

Spoiler: Arm Wrestling

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As Greck passed the arm wrestling tent he paused. Making a quick decision, he pushed his holy symbol down the front of his armor and entered. He cracked his knuckles and fixed his opponent with his best sneer as the two of them lined up, non-verbally conveying just what would happen to the other contestant should he lose.

Athletics= (1d20+6)[16]

Spoiler: Drinking Contest

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He made his way over to the wrestling tent, but stopped the moment he saw the mostly-naked contestants. "Ehhm... Maybe after a few drinks..."

Changing course for the bannered table, he arrived just as the contest was finishing, tossed a pair of silver pieces to the officiant, and took his seat. Once the table is full again, drinks are poured and the judge gestures for Greck to make the first toast. Thinking for a moment, but coming up with nothing, he simply raises his mug and proclaims "Nothin' heroic about this!" and they begin to drink.

Constitution= (1d20+3)[5]

Spoiler: Wrestling

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Still feeling carefree from the ale, Greck strips down and oils up for his match. His strategy is the same as almost every other fight he's ever been in: come out hard and aggressive; crush his hapless foe quickly and efficiently. "Alright, let's go!"

Athletics= (1d20+6)[10]

Spoiler: Tall Tales

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Holding an ice pack against his bruised cheek, Greck decided to take a break from the festivities and listen to a few storytellers. He took a seat as another contestant stepped onto the stage and joined the crowd in booing him off a short while later. After listening to a few more speakers, an idea slipped its way into his mind. He had stories too. Awful stories. Awful true stories. Stories he lived through that still gave him the occasional nightmare.

Maybe it was time to spread those stories around.

Intimidation= (1d20+4)[22]

He stretched out as he left the storytellers' tent. It had been an enjoyable afternoon, but it wasn't over. It was barely evening, and he still had plenty of money in his pocket. Didn't he see a roulette wheel earlier? Tyr may not condone gambling, but neither did he condemn it...

[Riggdgames]

Yusha Darwish Warforged Knowledge Cleric 3 AC: 15/17 HP: 24/24 PP: 15 PIv: 12 PIs: 15 Conditions: Concentration: Kalib Golden Eagle Familiar (Hawk size/stats) AC: 13 HP: 1/1 Yusha steps idly past a tent, noisy with the sounds of food and drink being prepared and consumed. As he's about to continue on, a confrontation between human and elf quickly escalates to physical violence. Yusha grimaces, fingers curling in preparation for things to get out of hand, but just as quickly as it starts the human and his posse of friends retreat. A clash of cultures could often spiral out of control, but it seemed justice was already served and balance restored. The elf's punch had been highly improper, but the general public sentiment seemed to be one of acceptance. Abadar knows the people of a society should be granted some latitude in deciding what is proper for themselves. Even so, the warforged resolves to give those humans and the strangely clad elf a wide berth. From his perch on Yusha's shoulder, Kalib watches the feral-looking creature as long as he can while the pair retreat into the crowd. As the horns sound and the masses swallow them, Yusha's excitement is palpable. The fair was like a temple dedicated to prosperity, and all around him coin changed hands as people rejoiced at the boons provided by a stable society. Spoiler: Event one: Kite-fighting Show Spoiler: OOC Show Decided to represent telepathy from Yusha to Kalib as underlined to try to keep things straight later. You don't wish to share my perspective as the fight unfolds, kite to kite? Kalib leans in, bringing his beak a few inches closer to Yusha's face as they stare at each other. Yusha's eyes narrow, mocking the stern expression fixed on the eagle's face before breaking into a grin. Fine, fine, go get a better view, but stay well away from the kites. Even the appearance of impropriety would be unwelcome. Despite being granted permission, Kalib nevertheless stays perched on Yusha's shoulder, staring at him expectantly. Well? Are you going? Kalib's head falls back in a huff as he stares straight up, resigned to wait out the warforged. Spoiled and lazy. Yusha mentally plucks Kalib from this plane before pushing him back into space and time 30 feet up in the air. Some avatar you are. Smiling despite himself, Yusha finishes preparing the kite he'd made as Kalib finds a thermal to ride. Intelligence plus proficiency: 20 in discord -2gp and 2sp Spoiler: Event two: Riddles Show Yusha stands outside the Riddler's tent for a time, twisting a riddle he'd heard before into something new before moving to grab a scrap of parchment. What kind of skeleton has no bones? Lives to turn, but cannot turn on its own? Lend it a hand and take care not to lose it. To open or close, you must choose it. Spoiler: Answer Show A skeleton key He stares at it a moment longer, but shrugs and submits the scrap before he can second guess himself. Intelligence: 18 in discord -2sp Spoiler: Events three and four: Memory Games Show Finally finding a game of skill amidst all the hopeless games of chance, Yusha sits down to test his recall. He watches the tile placement, scanning each row and counting silently to himself. When it is his turn to place tiles, he methodically runs down the line from top left to right, getting as far as he can. Game 1, Wisdom: 7 in discord Game 2, Wisdom: Nat 1 in discord -4sp When Yusha finally tires of the memory games, he finds himself squarely in front of the Poet's Den. Smiling broadly, Yusha eagerly steps inside and finds a table, nodding politely to the listeners nearby and ignoring any undue attention. For a short time he watches in fascination as a few poets step forward, gifting the tent's inhabitants with their prose. Yusha squirms indecisively for another minute before standing to write his name on the list. He could do this. Just a short poem dedicated to Abadar. He could program the illusory words to come forth in mother's proud voice and honor the Wealthy Father above. He could. "Yusha Darwish? Yusha Darwish of Katapesh, step forward!" Yusha's fingers dig into the edge of the table, gripping it as if he might fall off the edge of the world if he lets go. He doesn't stand or make any move toward the stage, nor does he look around as the other listeners do. A few more moments pass in silence before Kalib screeches treacherously, abandoning propriety in favor of betrayal. As all eyes settle on the eagle and its perch, Yusha stays frozen a moment longer before rising and walking out of the tent. Was that necessary? Kalib screeches again. Yusha's jaw is clenched for a full minute before he finally relaxes. I don't see you getting up in front of that many people to recite a poem. Kalib's head rolls to the side, looking away as the two wind their way into the storyteller's tent.

[Awful]

Shalar Yotul Azari Beast Barbarian 3 AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 13 Rages: 3/3 Conditions: --- Shalar snatched up the refilled mug and tossed it back, the beer glugging down her gullet with effortless ease. With a loud exhalation of satisfaction, the elf thudded it back on the table and wiped out the fluffy white mustache of froth she'd acquired with the back of her arm. With a friendly grin to the dwarf, she plonked down a handful of silver coins and departed to seek challenges in the newly opened fair. What to do first? Oh, so hard to choose! Spoiler: Wrestling Show The wrestling drew her attention first. Greased up and gleaming, nearly nude contestants grappled each other. The oil made it far more enjoyable to watch, as wrestlers struggled to get firm grips on each other. Shalar, of course, was not bad at wrestling, though she had never mastered it to the same extent as some. All the same, after a brief period of watching, she couldn't resist having a go herself. Fortunately, all she really needed to do was take off her bearskin; much more than that and she'd be wearing nothing but the sky. She grinned widely as she stepped into the ring, body gleaming. "Come!" she shouted, delightedly, and lunged. (1d20+5)[22] Spoiler: Dueling Show Still grinning from the wrestling - win or lose, it had been fun - she decided to wander. She saw a great group of limber duelists, each with thin, delicate weapons. Asking, it was to first blood. Grappling was all very well and good, but true combat had blood split, and Shalar wanted a chance. She borrowed a rapier, ignoring the looks of the duelists as she swished it in a few practice cuts. The weapon felt excessively light in her hand - but how hard could it be? (1d20+4)[14] Spoiler: Arm wrestling Show Arm wrestling was a common pastime among a people who's biceps tended to average between huge and enormous. Thus it was with the Pillar Beasts and their constant jostling each other. Admittedly, without calling on the strength of the Beast, she tended to only have an average win ratio amongst her own people: ultimately mass so often won out against other warshifters. But the majority of the competition were only humans, of which Shalar smiled at. Some of the people preparing for the arm wrestling were half-orcs, and Shalar suspected those would be the most dangerous opponents, so to speak. Well, as always, she would apply her primary strategy: use force and if that failed, use more. (1d20+5)[12] Spoiler: Drinking contest Show All this activity had made her thirsty, so a drinking contest seemed like a way to kill two dwarves with one axd, metaphorically speaking. Despite the amount she'd already drank at the food tent, she entered, determined the enjoy the bitter human ale in a larger quantity as possible,with victory in truth only an incidental concern. (1d20+4)[10]

[Amaril]

Calen Damora
Human Wizard 3
AC: 10 HP: 17/17

Almost as soon as Calen reaches the fairgrounds, his worries about finding Umeli and Kip's displeasure are flung far from his mind. After all, just because he's here for work doesn't mean he can't take some time to have fun. It's not as if Umeli is expecting him, so what's the harm in spending a few hours seeing the sights?

And what sights! He finds himself standing wide-eyed before a torch-juggler who's somehow using his tongue to pass a flame from one torch to another. Of course, it's plain to see there's no Art behind the act, but that only makes it more fascinating. How does he do it? Could he be using some kind of cipher? Before Calen can get a better look, the crowd shifts and he's borne away again. He can't manage to be too disappointed, though, because he soon finds himself at the kites. He hasn't flown one since he was a boy, but if it's just two silver...

Spoiler: Kite-fighting

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"I'll take that one!" His chosen instrument is a simple diamond; if his instincts are right, the symmetry and lack of protruding shapes should make it easy to keep control of against changes in the wind.

Intelligence check: (1d20+3)[18]

Spoiler: Riddles

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The charcoal stains his fingertips as he rolls it between them, mulling over what to write down. Finally, he comes to a decision. I am rarely touched, but often held; if you've wit, you'll use me well. What am I?

Intelligence check: (1d20+3)[11]

Spoiler: Memory

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"Red flower, red flower...blue diamond, blue diamond...green leaf, green leaf...red flower..."

Wisdom check: (1d20+2)[22]

As the sun reaches its peak, Calen wends his way against the current back toward the fairground entrance, following the smell of the cookfires. Plonking more silver on the counter of one stall, he accepts a rather oversized mug; unsurprisingly, it's watered down, and not especially good stuff besides, but you get what you pay for.

"Y'know, I've seen all sorts here for the fair," says the bartender, a narrow-faced man in a stained apron. "But can't say's I've seen many wizards."

Calen wipes the foam from his mouth. "Well, I'm not really here for the fair." A thought occurs. "Actually--you wouldn't know what part of town Umeli's house is in, would you? It's her I'm here to see."

Spoiler: Investigating Umeli

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Investigation check: (1d20+5)[22]

[Theophilus]

Ar-Raaqis (Dragon) Faceless Warlock 3 AC: 14 HP: 24/24 THP: 0/10 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Spell Slots: 2nd - 2/2 Bottled Respite: 4/4 Hours Healer's Kit: 10/10 Dragon Conditions: --- Dragon Concentrating: --- The Dragon could not shake the sense of being followed, but she detected no one among the crowd. As such, she wove her way through the mingling herd, suddenly turning between stalls, and backtracking to various points. She stepped between the back of two tents and constructed another false image, an unoccupied booth that covered her trail. Once satisfied she had reduced the likelihood of being tailed, she studied the scene: The Fair provided tests of skill, though flavored in Caracara's culture. They offered ciphers to the victors. Sensing the opportunity to demonstrate her Order's prowess, the seeker entered a series of challenges. She first entered the poetry. The speaker arranged her lines, counted her on, and cut her verses in the heavenly manner. Their brevity concealed an exposition deeper than the Bay of Han Wu, a tribute to her summer of ascension. "The Dragon soars above The crystal waves that lay over Wise Kraken dreaming." Then the woman rewove her way through the fair, again seeking to shake the pervading sense of being acutely seen. This time she enclosed herself in another statue before slipping into the kite contest. The Dragon studied the other performers. She mentally conjured her the Spirit Wind to aid her. Her rented sparrow danced among the falcons and fierce creatures, an unsuspecting foe. Yet, she recalled the fury of the small when guarding their nests, recklessly braving the bird of prey and driving off the superior predator. This she instilled into the art, while surprising her opponents with the sudden gusts of the divine wind. After her contest of kites, Ar-Raaqis sought to demonstrate her Order's dance. She maintained her attire, masked and colorful as she was. The Dragon flowed through her forms like a supple willow on the river bank, flowing in motion to the wind of the song. As the notes crescendo, she flashed like lightning across the floor, her tempo increasing with the musicians. Then she settled like rain in a lake, gently reposing in the resolution of the final chords. The Dragon entered another challenge of verses to rest her body and rouse her mind. This time she chose a scene from the Eel Mother and the Moon Mother. "In the era of the celestial host, when our wise ancestors rode the paths between stars, the Moon Mother visited a forgotten shrine. In this shrine, her people discovered the mysteries of the Eel Mother. The Eel Mother's eggs lay around the altar, filled with quiet hunger. The Moon Mother's people disturbed these eggs, stirring the children within. The children leaped upon those who desecrated the shine with tentacles like a kraken and fangs like a shark. They wrapped around their faces and slithered their true forms into the outsiders' stomachs." The Moon Mother saw this and grew fearful for disrespecting the Eel Mother's temple. She took her people to their sacred vessel and sailed away from the shrine. Yet, the Eel Mother is a vengeful spirit and rode the vessel in anger. Her children heard their mother's song and stirred in their new eggs of flesh and bone. Each burst through the skin of the Moon Mother's people like an eaglet rises from its egg to feast upon the carcasses left by their mother. These children did not have the tentacles of their youth. These had their Mother's mouths within mouths, her slashing sword tail, and her terrible claws." "One by one, the children of the Eel Mother hunted the people of the Moon Mother. Only the gift of the gods--sacred fire--spared the Moon Mother and two of her people. The Moon Mother regretted touching the shrine of the Eel Mother. In her grief, she clothed herself in armor like the rays of the sun and collected the last of the sacred fire. She battled the Eel Mother and her children, slaying some with portions of her sacred vessel. Others she tricked into walking the trackless paths of the heavens, forever winding and forgotten. The beast with two mouths in wrath ripped the head from one of the Moon people--who was in fact a false Person, a demon of iron flesh wearing human skin! The Eel Mother also melted another of the People with the burning river that flowed from a hidden spring in her heart. Only the Moon Mother and her daughter remained. She pressed the Eel Mother into an egg of steel, spending the last of her sacred fire. The Moon Mother then cast the egg into the black sea, and so the Moon Mother and Eel Mother remain eternal enemies. The Eel Mother and her children hunts the people of the Moon, and the people of the Moon repel the beasts with two mouths with sacred fire when the sun ceases to shine and the midnight sea swells upon the earth." During the telling, she overlaid images on the stage with a subtle gesture of her silver-threaded gloves. The strange vessel of the Moon Mother floated over the pale surface. Then an egg of curious shape. A flat icon constructed of bricks followed, forming the Eel Mother's maw within maws. The form of the Moon Mother's sacred armor appeared. Finally, a house with the shadows of the Eel Mother's children on each side manifested. The silhouette of the Moon people and their young peeked from the windows, warded in the glow of sacred fire. The light of the sun descended as she shared this tale, cloaking the valley in early dusk. She smiled behind her mask at her words made their mark. She had failed to investigate the wizard, but the woman trusted she could do so in the evening as others grew lenient and less attentive to their words. The Dragon desired the cipher, another prize for her Order. She sought this wizard, a danger hidden somewhere in the folds of Caracara. Despite her efforts, she won only a token. The Dragon silently cursed the wasted coin. The Fair seemed primed for the locals, with no taste for high culture. She would not make the same mistakes twice. Umeli remained, and she would have her answers. Sometimes iron spoke better than silver.

Spoiler: OOC

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Shall we play a game?

Spoiler: Event 1

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Poetry. A haiku. (1d20+3)[15] (1d20+3)[7] if allowed to use charisma to present the subtle wisdom in a profound manner. Reduce by 3 if not.

Spoiler: Event 2

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Kite Flying. Advantage from the 'fortunate winds' of her telekinetic shove against the opposing kite? (1d20)[5] (1d20)[14] assuming an Int roll. Add 5 if allowing acrobatics to adroitly maneuver the kite.

Spoiler: Event 3

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Dance, dance revolution. (1d20+5)[13] acrobatics.

Spoiler: Event 4

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Are you my mother? Scary stories from the horrific depths of ancient fiction. (1d20+5)[12] (1d20+5)[13] intimidation advantage for the minor illusions laced into the telling.

No hunt for Umeli during the day, but she would seek her in the evening.

[purepolarpanzer]

The First Day of the Caracara Fair

Spoiler: Greck

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Spoiler: Arm Wrestling

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The contests are single elimination, and Greck manages to defeat two opponents handily, but his final foe is a hulking human standing over seven feet tall who dispatches Greck with the same ease that Greck dispatched his qualifiers. Still, his opponent went on to win the first tournament of the day, securing Greck third place. One of the vermillion bannered judges happily hands the half-orc a fair token. When the victor is jokingly asked if he's strong enough to go handle the goblins of the Crooked Hills, the massive farm hand swallows and shakes his head. "I may be big, but bugbears be bigger with those weird, metallic horns on their heads. Besides, they're so creepy, with their eyes always closed like that. I'll stick to wrestling steers, thanks."

Spoiler: Drinking Contest

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Greck quickly realizes that though there is fun to be had in the cheering, jeering, singing, and drinking, there are some professionals sitting at the tables today. Notably there is a heavy set woman who drains mug after mug with no apparent signs of inebriation. Greck gets his coin worth of drink but doesn't push himself to the point of uselessness, failing to impress the judges but maintaining his dignity.

Spoiler: Wrestling

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Oiled and half-naked, Greck wins the first fall against his opponent, a rotund man who is one part muscle to one part fat. However, his opponents weight and slipperiness come to bear in the next fall, as the larger, fleshier man manages to bully Greck from the ring. In the final bout Greck's foot slips and he loses leverage, slowly being bulled to the ground by his foe. His opponent loses his next match, so Greck fails to place in this event.

Spoiler: Tall Tales

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The horror and carnage of some of Greck's reminiscence awes the crowd, puts them on the edge of their seats, and has mothers covering the ears of their children as the story comes to a violent end. The clapping is enthusiastic, and this time Greck is approached by a judge bearing a vermillion banner with a red sigil on it. This woman is wearing a chain shirt, fashionable and colorful clothes, and carrying a heavy mace, but she is smiling at Greck with a holy symbol of Tyr around her neck. "Well spoken, my son. The Even Handed One must approve of the righteousness of your cause, to allow you to survive such harrowing events. My name is Marta, and I am the head judge at the fair. Here is your reward for a tale well told. Next time, perhaps you should tone things down for the children." She hands over two fair tokens for Greck's efforts, along with a throaty chuckle. The competitor who stands up after Greck also wins a token for a tale seemingly made explicitly for children- a rousing tale of adventure starring some unnamed local children who got lost playing in the Crooked Hills. Surrounded by sleepy goblins, they had the cunning to close their eyes and stumble past the sleepwalking goblins, who assumed they were one of them and paid the children no notice

Spoiler: Gambling

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The gods of luck shine on Greck this day, and he manages to win three more fair tokens by pure chance with spins of the roulette wheel. While he is playing "Spin it to Win It", some of the other gamblers speculate as to where the cyphers come from. A local man speaks up- "They must come from the Crooked Hills, but we find em all over. Almost as though someone wandered through town and left em like eggs at the spring festival. Sometimes on the ground, sometimes on a window sill, you never know where you're going to stumble across one. Me Da' says the sleepy goblins sneak into town and leave em, but I think that's bollocks."

Spoiler: Yusha

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Spoiler: Kite-Fighting

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Yusha's kite, crafted by his own hands, manages to cut the strings of all it approaches, reaping kites like a marauding angel. He is nearly stymied, however, when a masked woman's kite seems to duck and weave almost supernaturally out of the way of his advances, but he manages to win out in the end. "Wow!" Says a old man with a vermillion banner mounted to his back who's string was sliced by Yusha's creation. "You're the best kite-fighter since Umeli! She was fair champion three years in a row, till her expeditions to the Crooked Hills made her lose interest. I wonder if her kite got left behind in her home on the far side of town... oh well, she came to care way too much about the cyphers and not enough about the sport!" The old timer hands Yusha two fair tokens.

Spoiler: Riddles

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Yusha lasts quite a few rounds in the riddle competition, but is finally eliminated by when this brain buster comes his way- "I speak without a mouth and hear without ears, I have no body but come alive with wind. What am I?". It is correctly solved by a wizened old woman, who croaks out "An echo.". However, Yusha's riddle stumps all who are assembled, to the point that they need to ask who posed the riddle. When Yusha verifies it is his by supplying the answer, a judge hands over a fair token as a special prize.

Spoiler: Memory Game

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Not once, but twice Yusha fails to place in the tile game. There are mutters and jibes- "Metal man can't remember what he had for breakfast this morning!" "Ironborn don't eat, Melfin." "Shuddup, Migsy!". No prizes are awarded to the devotee of Abadar for this game. However, he does notice that someone who appears to be doing ridiculously well has a faint beeping coming from them. A female judge wearing a chain shirt and carrying a mace, comes up behind him and tips his hat off his head, revealing a small spinning dish that has been attached to the side of his skull. "We don't take kindly to cheaters here in Caracara, sir, and using a cypher is cheating. I wouldn't recommend trying any more contests- every judge in the fair will know to look out for you within an hour." The shame faced man picks up his hat and stomps off, the small, tilted bowl still spinning madly on his skull.

Spoiler: Bonus Round- Poetry

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Before Yusha's embarrassing attempt at reciting a poem, a spectacled wisp of a woman recites a haunting poem from a piece of parchment that describes the ghost of a woman who comes after dark to Caracara. She appears as a robed woman with nine hands, silently wandering the town when there are clouds over the moon to steal the breath of sleepers and instill the chill of the grave.

Spoiler: Shalar

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Spoiler: Wrestling

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Though Shalar is not the largest competitor in the wrestling competition, no one comes into her round with as much eagerness and excitement as her. She trounces her preliminary opponents, and when she squares up with a formidable looking half-orc they each take one fall, leaving the entire round to be decided by the final contest. Using his prodigious size, the half-orc wraps Shalar in a bear hug and attempts to carry her to the edge of the ring, but with the slipperiness of a salmon she wriggles out of his grasp and turns his move against him, extending a leg and shoving to trip him out of the ring. The crowd cheers madly at this reversal of fate, and a judge with a vermillion banner hands over two fair tokens as the brutish elf is wiping off oil and putting her bearskin back on.

Spoiler: Dueling

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The elf barbarian comes close to placing in the rapier competition, eliminating her first opponent with pure aggression, swinging the thin blade like she would a longsword. After a stern reminder from a judge that no one is supposed to die in these contests, Shalar's second round opponent defeats her by dodging consistently and then nimbly scoring a small cut along her arm. She fails to place and receives no tokens for this round.

Spoiler: Arm Wrestling

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True to her internal prediction, Shalar is defeated in the first round by an opponent nearly twice her size, but not quickly and not easily. Both of them were red faced and straining by the time they beat her, and the massive goliath woman clad in furs nods and extends a hand to the elf, the mottled skin of her face splitting in a tired grin. "You play well. It was an honorable match. You bring glory to your tribe, and me mine. I am Daosha Thundercrack, and I hope we compete again before this fair is done."

Spoiler: Drinking Contest

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Going into her final event of the day with enthusiasm but little preoccupation with winning means that Shalar has a great time at the dinking contest. The toasting, singing, and cheering starts to blend together by her fifth mug, but she doesn't come close to the eight mugs of the victor. However, upon receiving his fair tokens the dwarf who won vomits onto the judge's shoes while she had a pleasant, heady buzz, so it is arguable who actually won that round. The bartender, who declares himself to be "Bearic, Owner, Proprietor, Head Bartender, and Janitor of the Sleeping Elephant Inn", loudly reminds everyone that "There's better drinks than this pisswater available at my establishment whenever someone wishes!" He then removes a metal ring from a pocket and twists some internal mechanism, holding it up and sending a flashing, swirling show of colorful lights projected into the sky that seems to distract and draw the eye to an almost supernatural degree.

Spoiler: Calen

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Spoiler: Kite-Fighting

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The wizard's strategy of simplicity and elegance over flash and show ends with him cutting several opponent's strings before a more experienced fighter snipes his. The old man judging the event hands over a single fair token quite happily, complimenting Calen's technique and stating he shows a lot of promise "for a newcomer."

Spoiler: Riddles

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"The tongue." Spoken confidently by a shriveled looking woman, she solves Calen's riddle, but not before it eliminated several contestants. Calen himself is eliminated by a real puzzler- "I have cities, but no buildings. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish. What am I?" The same old woman solves this one as well- "A map.". Calen fails to distinguish himself in this contest, and wins no fair tokens.

Spoiler: Memory Game

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It is here that Calen easily bests his competition, matching each round with no errors and soundly trumping all comers. "Someone really wants a prize!" Says the judge as they hand over two fair tokens.

Spoiler: Investigating Umeli

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The bartender only shrugs when Calen asks after the older wizard. "Never heard of em'. But if you're looking for a local, ask a local. I'm only here to make coin." Following his advice, Calen spends the next hour or so asking around, and eventually someone points him in the direction of the Sleeping Elephant and the drinking competition. Once he has established that he doesn't intend to enter, the owner of the tavern is happy to share gossip with the archaeologist. "Umeli used to live on the far side of town, beyond the Pavilion of Prizes and to the east of the animal exhibits. You'll know her house readily enough- we boarded up the doors and windows to keep the kids from breaking in. The wizard spent more and more time investigating the Crooked Hills after she arrived around ten years ago, and no one has seen her in three years, so I'm guessing she musta finally got caught by the sleepy goblins and eaten out there. The town council will sell her house when someone shows interest, but not until it's cleared out. It's fulla weird stuff- things that buzz, things that glow, and things that float in thin air. Probably a cypher or two left behind, too. She was fascinated by cyphers, that one. Too bad it probably got her killed. If you're looking for her, there might be clues in there." He leans in close and whispers in Calen's ear conspiratorially. "Kids being kids, some teens pried off the boards on the back side of the house, facing south. If you find anything worthwhile in the mad mage's place, remember is was Bearic who pointed you in the right direction. And if Umeli's still alive, remind her that she never closed her tab."

Spoiler: Ar-Raaqis

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Spoiler: Poetry

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The Dragon's haiku impresses the judge presiding over the poetry, earning her a fair token and some questions about the form and function of her exotic poetry.

Spoiler: Kite-Fighting

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Ar-Raaqis' more esoteric talents come to bear in this competition. Though inexperienced, her telekinetic talents batter opposing kites away from her string and knock her own kite into the others. The old man presiding over the kite competition gives her several side long glances when she has lucky save after lucky save, but when she is finally eliminated by an gold painted Ironborn, the judge hands over a single fair token with a slightly reassured smile. While she is returning her kite, Qadira hears the judge talking to the metal man about Umeli and eavesdrops a bit. "You're the best kite-fighter since Umeli! She was fair champion three years in a row, till her expeditions to the Crooked Hills made her lose interest. I wonder if her kite got left behind in her home on the far side of town..."

Spoiler: Dancing

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While the crowd doesn't seem to favor the Dragon's dance, the judge approaches her after the event. "I'm sorry I can't give you any fair tokens, but I run an informal competition for the best costumes at the fair, and I must say yours is damn impressive. So exotic, so metallic, and with a veil of mystery! I'd like to offer you a consolation prize, for scintillating our eyes in your fashion, if not your steps." The effeminate man produces a small basket, loaded with a fat purse and two stoppered bottles. "It's fifty gold and two healing potions. So you can robe yourself in even more eccentric fashions, and stay in good enough health to come next year and impress me again!"

Spoiler: Tall Tales

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The Dragon's tale of terror has the crowd going, but she is interrupted by the judge in the middle of the story. "No magic allowed! You can continue, but this is a competition of words, not wizarding!" Unfortunately, the interruption disconnects the crowd from the story, and Qadira does not place in the competition, and receives no fair tokens.

As the Sun Sinks on The Horizon

With shadows growing tall, each of you finds yourselves making your way towards the Pavilion of Prizes, a large tent that has been set up to block access to the quiet, residential part of town. A nervous looking man leaves the tent quickly, bearing an overladen sack and making a break for it. "Stop! That's too many! You're going to get yourself hurt!" A mustachioed man with a heavy set and a surprisingly high pitched foppish tone runs out of the tent and shakes a spear at the running man. The weasely man keeps running, but stops moving as they slowly rise into the air. Looking mystified, four odd looking cyphers rise out of the sack and begin to orbit the hapless man, as the people around him dash away, as though they know what is coming. Your hairs stand on end as an arc of lightning connects the four cyphers, then strikes the man, whose scream becomes fragmented and metallic. There is a puff of smoke, and the man and his cyphers disappear in a flash, leaving behind only a pair of smoking boots. Several of the people who dived for cover shake their heads and murmur sorrowful words, but just as rapidly as all this happened everyone is back to smiling and enjoying themselves, as though this were a regrettable fireworks accident. The mustached man, wearing armor and carrying a shield on his back, tuts several times before turning to the crowds assembling around him. "Poor poor man. But such is the fate of the greedy and the stupid who do not follow Iban's exceptional advice. Oh, well. COME ONE, COME ALL, AND TRADE YOUR TOKENS FOR FANTASTIC PRIZES!" An older man with roughspun clothing approaches Iban and waves a hand dismissively to him. "Feth. I don't want any of your prizes, Iban. I just want to go home and get some peace and quiet. I've had enough of this senseless merriment." Iban waves dismissively right back at the party pooper, then leads him inside. "I'll let you through, Derril, but you better get home quick. You might catch a bad case of "having a good time" if you stay in this part of town." Inside the tent there is a flap on the opposite side that Iban leads Derril through, leading to a much darker and emptier part of town. Inside the tent there is a counter set up, with shelves and shelves of prizes behind it. Iban takes his position behind the counter (which blocks the flap leading to the residential district), and throws up his arms in welcome. "Come, come! Trade your tokens for fantastical and amazofull prizes!"

Spoiler: Shelves and Shelves of Prizes

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Spoiler: One Fair Token

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-A fancy writ designating the bearer as an official "Knight of the Caracara Fair".
-A stone spoon with a decorative carving along the handle
-An ink on parchment sketch of yourself done by an odd contraption of wheels and pulleys holding several quills and dipping them into several colored ink pots. It comes out incredibly realistic, if a bit psychedelic in color scheme and back ground, as though the machine was seeing energy or auras invisible to the humanoid eye. If asked about the odd device, Iban smiles wide and relays "Something a former resident of the town salvaged from the Crooked Hills. Umeli donated it to the fair committee eight years ago, and it's been churning out art ever since."

Spoiler: Two Fair Tokens

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-A basket full of baked goods that are fresh and delicious.
-A ribbon-wrapped bottle of spirits or wine.
-A purse of ten coppers, five silvers, a gold piece stamped with the symbol of the Caracara Fair Committee.

Spoiler: Three Fair Tokens

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- A luxurious dagger inlaid with silver and gold filigree spelling out "Caracara Fair Champion" on the handle. It is of exceptional craftsmanship.
-A luxurious tankard with gold and silver filigree, semi-precious gems, and "Caracara Fair Champion" etched into the wood. It is of exceptional craftsmanship.
-A luxurious hand mirror with gold and silver filigree, semi-precious gems, and "Caracara Fair Champion" etched into the metal. It is of exceptional craftsmanship.

Spoiler: Four Fair Tokens

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-A cypher, chosen at random by Iban, who will then explain it's use (which is to his knowledge, and may be incomplete).

Spoiler: Five Fair Tokens

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-The only prize listed for five fair tokens is an iridescent cloak that appears to have small clockwork machinery for clasps. It's colors shift and change depending on where the light strikes it. When asked about it, Iban says "It's a stylish cloak. Magical in nature. It makes people believe what you say, whether you lie, use diplomacy, or threaten people. It was... found... by a former resident of the town who is no longer with us."

Spoiler: For Anyone Looking to Investigate Umeli's House

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A DC 10 Persuasion Check will be needed to convince Iban to let non-locals into the residential part of town. Failure will mean you'll have to take time and a DC 10 investigation check to find another route. Iban will specifically warn against investigating the boarded up home in that part of town, stating several people have been hurt by odd machines and devices in there.

[Riggdgames]

Yusha Darwish Warforged Knowledge Cleric 3 AC: 15/17 HP: 24/24 PP: 15 PIv: 12 PIs: 15 Conditions: Concentration: Kalib Golden Eagle Familiar (Hawk size/stats) AC: 13 HP: 1/1 Spoiler: Kite Fighting continued Show Yusha beams proudly down on the old timer as Kalib circles overhead, accepting the two tokens in one hand and gesturing with the other. The image of a kite guided by a semi-transparent, gold-gauntleted hand appears with Yusha pictured far below. Another gesture from Yusha and a few words appear under the image. "The glory belongs to Abadar, sir. His hand guides us all." Despite the obvious piety, however, Yusha radiates self-satisfaction as he tries and fails to master the smile plastered on his face. "Umeli? Is that the correct spelling? I have heard the name before. She studied kites as well as cyphers?" Spoiler: Memory Games continued Show As Melfin and Migsy have their fun at Yusha's expense, the warforged tries hard to ignore the muttering of the crowd, but fails miserably. His performance degrades further as more and more processing power is diverted, his mind thoroughly distracted until finally he pushes back from the table to leave. A subtle beeping catches his attention just before the judge intervenes. Thoughts of petty embarrassment are propelled to the background as he watches justice in action, though he's further distracted by the magical dish perched on the man's skull. Yusha frowns after the man, deciding too late to follow him and quickly losing him in the crowd. Yusha watches in silent amazement as the problem solves itself. A thoroughly imbalanced creature comes running towards him, parting the crowd as he sprints away from the Pavilion of Prizes ahead, but his steps are cut short. One moment, Yusha worries that he might have to call on Abadar for aid. The next moment, it becomes wholly unnecessary as the man sizzles out of existence. There are rules. Rules that should be followed. Some laws are made by men. Others, by the gods, and there are no greater laws than those. But some laws are made by the Ancients. Yusha is heartened to see that the cyphers follow a set of rules related to their number, and that the cyphers themselves delivered justice blindly. What could be more proper? Ignorance of the law excuses no one. The man without balance would no longer trouble anyone else. At Iban's invitation, Yusha steps into the pavilion without another thought. The warforged patiently waits his turn with a pleasant smile, then walks up to the man and wordlessly proffers four tokens, silently communicating as needed to make his wishes known. A cypher. He hadn't held much hope of finding himself in possession of one so quickly, and the anticipation of the unknown tugged at the corners of his mouth, broadening the smile. After receiving his boon from Abadar via the shopkeeper, Yusha finds himself confronted with a familiar face. Well, a familiar mask, rather. Dressed in strange robes and carrying a stranger lantern, the woman still might've escaped notice if it hadn't been for the mask. Yusha contents himself with watching her for a few minutes, but eventually strikes up the nerve to ask after his heart's desire. The full story. Walking up and seeking her attention, Yusha gestures to project an image of the woman and Yusha walking different paths, but where the road ahead is unclear there are a few places the paths cross behind them. Illusory words follow the image, albeit delayed as Yusha carefully tries to 'say' the right things. "Forgive me, I hope I'm not intruding. I enjoyed our bout with kites, but afterwards I found my way to the storyteller's tent." An image of Yusha appears, literally sitting on the edge of his seat, fingers steepled in front of his mouth as he stares intently at the strange woman on stage. "I enjoyed your story even more. There were many great teller's." One last image appears, this time showing one of Tyr's faithful, a half-orc taking the prize with Yusha beaming silently while the rest of the crowd cheers. "But now that the competition is over and it is no longer improper, would you retell the story of the moon mother with images as well as words?"

[Inmate XIII]

As he glanced at the sun half hidden by the horizon, Greck placed one last bet on the first dozen, muttering noncommittally at the gossip of the other players. Only half interested, he listened, but didn't speak much. He didn't know if the Church would find any of it useful, but he'd still report the most plausible bits. Not that he was sent here to find out about the cyphers, but still. The Crooked Hills was a good lead. The wheel stopped and the ball landed on 23, eliciting an annoyed grunt from Greck and a cheer from a winner. While he enjoyed the game itself, winning was more enjoyable.

Fidgeting with the small pile of tokens in his pocket, he glanced again at the sun. His break would be over soon; he needed to exchange his prize tokens before he had to go back on duty or he would likely not get another chance. He was also getting hungry.

He stopped by a vendor’s stall for a potato knish and made his way towards the prize tent just in time to see the very end of the commotion. WIth a groan he pulled out his rod and, wielding it like a billy club “convinced” a few of the more persistent onlookers to leave before getting the attention of a nearby maintenance worker and pointing to the boots.

Before he could turn back towards the tent an arm landed across his shoulders and he was wheeled around and shoved inside. “Grick, my friend! Glad you could stop by!” Iban bellowed.

“It’s Greck! A grick is a fowl underdark creature that-”

“Yes, yes. DO I have just the thing for you! You and your comrades did us a big favor this year and I wanted to make sure you saw this wondrous prize before it was gone! And perhaps take it for yourself? A little goblin told me the wheel was kind to you today,” Iban chortled, nudging Greck in the ribs with his elbow. He gestured to the cloak.

”I actually wanted a cypher, or maybe one of those nice daggers and a tankard...” Greck muttered.

Iban slapped him on the shoulder again. “Oh, come on! The cloak is perfect for you! Think about it; doesn’t the Even-Handed smile on those who use words to resolve a conflict? Those who convince a criminal to stand down and face trial instead of go down fighting?”

”Yeah, yeah, you’re right… Guess I’ll ta-” Greck couldn’t even get the words out before Iban threw the cloak around his shoulders and took five tokens from his hand. “And with the last token, one of those drawings, I guess. Who is Umeli?”

[Theophilus]

Ar-Raaqis (Dragon) Faceless Warlock 3 AC: 14 HP: 24/24 THP: 0/10 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Spell Slots: 2nd - 2/2 Bottled Respite: 4/4 Hours Healer's Kit: 10/10 Dragon Conditions: --- Dragon Concentrating: --- Spoiler: After the Dance Show The Dragon graciously received the items, bowing deeply to the gift giver. She motioned and a kimono covered in beasts from the Bay formed over the judge. She said, "More inspiration for your future competitions, for a gift begets a gift." Then Ar-Raaqis strode from the dance floor, far richer than she came if unrewarded with a token. The masked figure beheld the doomed thief's final moments dispassionately. She only lamented the loss of the ciphers, wasted in greed. The Dragon winced as the revelers shrugged off the warning with little pause for reflection. Those who looked away from the danger would likely succumb to it unaware. When she entered and saw the items available, Ar-Raaqis tensed. This lot offered the arcane objects up as one my candies to a child--even a relic! She squeezed her tokens, grinding their two faces together as if to represent the whole Fair. Then she breathed out. She could not claim the prize by force or coin, but the seeker would mark whoever did. She passed her coins over, claiming the liquor. The Dragon considered how to bypass the plated warden when the golden iron flesh spoke to her. She bowed slightly to acknowledge his presence and remarks. Then she said, "I am honored to share the story once more in its proper manner. I have business in the residential sector that I must attend to first." She turned toward the booth to see another claim the cloak. The woman addressed the pair in her voice tinged as though with lightning, "I could use an escort into the residential sector. I have business with Incantantrix Umeli. Your champion would be a helpful guide."

Spoiler: OOC

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Minor Illusion (sight) on the costume judge to temporarily model another fashion from Qadira's homeland.

15 Persuasion to convince the NPC gatekeeper to make way!

[Amaril]

Calen Damora
Human Wizard 3
AC: 10 HP: 17/17

Standing in line at the prize tent, Calen finds himself ill at ease once more. Magister Umeli, missing? He'd heard she was hard to get a hold of, but still, shouldn't someone in the Order have heard something? Sent someone to investigate? And what could make a wizard of her skill disappear for so long without a trace?

He's roused from his worries as the man with the sack bolts past him, nearly shoving him out of the way. It takes Calen a second to realize what's happening, which leaves him no time to intervene before the thief is lifted off his feet and.... "Oof!" he winces. Cipher interference is not something to mess around with.

The line moves forward, giving him the chance to peek through the gap in the tent flaps. A quick check of his pocket confirms he's just short of the cost of a cipher; shame, that. More interesting, though, is the crowd gathered within--particularly the woman in the mask. Or helmet? Immediately recognizable as Numeneric, either way. Forgetting his manners somewhat, Calen finds himself studying it--which is when he overhears something truly interesting.

"Pardon me!" Politeness entirely forgotten, he leans forward to stick his head inside the tent, interrupting the talk within. "Did I hear you say you were here to see Umeli? I am too, but I've heard she's been missing for quite a while. Do you know where she might have gone?"

[Awful]

Shalar Yotul Azari Beast Barbarian 3 AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 13 Rages: 3/3 Conditions: --- Arm wrasslin' "Shalar Yotul Azari!" the elf told the goliath, clasping her hand firmly. She gave the stronger woman a beaming, still red-faced, grin. "Yes, yes. May our prey's trails cross again in future, yes!" --- Prizes tent Even without winning the majority of her contests, Shalar was content and also a little drunk. She traded in her little tokens for a bottle of spirits. She couldn't really read the label, but it was liquid and high-proof, which was what was ideal for booze. She sniffed it and smelt cherries. A stir caught her attention as a thief ran with four cyphers and promptly failed to exist. Impressed, Shalar made an appreciative noise at the self-disintegration demonstration. Others entered, a woman in a robe and fancy bucket on her head, a shiny metal man, a skinny little wizard. Her keen elven orcish ears, however, overhear something that makes her stop her stroll away. As Calen sticks his head into the tent, a muscled arm wraps around his shoulders in an excessively friendly manner. The muscled elf grins at his expressionbefore she speaks to the group at large. It sure sounded like this whole funny-looking lot were looking for things to do with the ancient secrets of the old world. Ah, how clever the Pillar was, to have her here at this time! "I hear you say: Umeli. I hear others say Umeli is a witch of the old cyphers, yes? Interesting! I think I want to meet Umeli the witch. A nice meeting of chance, I think! Very fateful!"

[purepolarpanzer]

Earlier that Day

Spoiler: Yusha

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Spoiler: Memory Games Continued

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The old man smiles, but it is a sad, small smile, remembering times gone by. "Yes. Before she became obsessed with the cyphers Umeli loved her kites. She made half the flyers that we rented to people for the fair, and they were of exceptionally high quality. But she simply lost interest as she spent more and more time in the Crooked Hills and discovered more and more cyphers. Shame, shame.

Spoiler: Ar-Raaqis

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Spoiler: After the Dance

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The man looks absolutely enchanted as the kimono falls down over his body, even if it is only a magical overlay. He claps his hands and laughs like a child. "Delightful! Simply delightful! I do hope you enjoy the fair, Miss!"

Sundown at the Fair

Iban gladly takes Yusha's fair tokens, dropping them one by one into a box under the counter before looking back at the wall of seemingly random wonder and grasping something in one hand. Turning around, he sets a metallic device on the wood comprised of a metal spike and a few anchoring legs. "We call these ones a beast lure! If you plant the spike in the ground and say the name of a type of animal, it will call one to you within the hour! It will be calm and complacent, and if you speak to it while the spike is present, it makes it so you can talk to the animals! Isn't it wonderous! A true miracle! A gewgew of the gods! Make friends with the animals, ask them questions, learn their secrets!"

As Greck slides the cloak around his shoulders, he finds it shifts and adjusts to fit him as though by magic. It also clasps itself around his neck. He finds he can unclasp it readily enough, so there is no fear of it being cursed, but when he brings the small, mechanical looking clasps together again they fasten automatically. Nothing amazing or fantastic happens immediately, but Greck finds there is a button on the clasp that nearly begs to be pushed.

When Ar-Raaqis secures her bottle, her words easily sway Iban, and he slowly nods. "I'll let you through, I guess, if just to see that Umeli's house is boarded up and abandoned. Just don't go poking around in there! Like I said, several people have been hurt already, and we don't want anyone else getting wounded! Just in case, why don't you make sure you've got some friends with you, in case anything comes out of that haunted wreck of a house!"

Spoiler: Prizes

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Yusha- Beast Lure
This bulky device has a pointy “foot” that
pierces the ground. When activated, it
sends out a call to a range of about 3 miles,
luring one beast whose challenge rating is no higher
than 3. The beast makes its way to the
cypher’s location at its normal speed and
calmly remains there for up to one hour.
During this time, you can impart a basic
concept or question to the beast, and the
beast can convey a simple answer in return.
If the beast is attacked, the calming effect
immediately ends. After the hour of calm,
the beast returns to its previous territory
(although it may be sidetracked by prey or
attacked along the way).

Greck- Cloak of Finery
This multilayered cloak is made of glittering
material and studded with miniature
devices. When you put it on, it automatically
adjusts to fit you. When activated as your
action, for the next minute, the cloak makes
you more impressive by changing color,
creating a gentle glow, amplifying the sound
of your voice, modulating your tone, and (in
a limited fashion) editing what you say to
correct for grammar mistakes, misspoken
words, and awkward pauses. While active
in this way, you gain advantage on and
add your proficiency bonus to Deception,
Intimidate, Performance, and Persuasion
skill checks.
A cloak of finery has a depletion of 1 in
1d20. (Depletion means that every time you activate it you roll a d20. If you roll a 1 it works for that activation, and then never again.

Ar-Raaqis- Blueberry Shine
This strong liquor smells and tastes of blueberries, but with a strong alcohol flavor that promises inebriation if overindulged.

Shalar- Cherry Brandy
This strong liquor smells and tastes of sweet cherries and is colored a deep blood red. It is a bit oversweet and threatens to stain clothes with it's thick, almost syrupy composition.

[Riggdgames]

Yusha Darwish Warforged Knowledge Cleric 3 AC: 15/17 HP: 24/24 PP: 15 PIv: 12 PIs: 15 Conditions: Concentration: Kalib Golden Eagle Familiar (Hawk size/stats) AC: 13 HP: 1/1 Spoiler: Iban - Beast Lure Show Yusha takes the Beast Lure reverently, grabbing it in both hands and examining the cypher closely as Iban relates its purpose. With a gesture, Yusha creates a floating image of the pair of them as the item trades hands. In it the cypher glows, its brightness lighting up the area around them while the rest of Iban's tent is lost in darkness. Yusha spares Iban a warm glance, smiling at him before setting the cypher down gently on the counter. The warforged pulls out a journal and begins writing notes in diminutive, neat script. Yusha shrinks back half a pace as the air around him grows thick with new voices asking about Umeli and about the female storyteller's intent to pay Umeli's home a visit. Though all of them were strangers to Yusha, he couldn't help but find it oddly providential that he recognized each of them from their exploits today. He quickly went to work cataloging the three newcomers in his mind, preparing to add them to his notes later. The wizard was a victor from the Memory game. Yusha's own memory had failed him with so many watching, but before his turn had come he distinctly remembered a human besting everyone else at the table. Yusha's silver would've been better spent in the hands of the man in blue. No doubt a scholar would have proper respect for the mysterious cyphers, not to mention Umeli's home. Tyr's champion had killed two birds with one stone, sharing his prowess at storytelling and battle in the same breath. Yusha had seen some of The Necessary Evil's works where their goals coincided with Abadar's--the half-orc even looked familiar to Yusha's eyes--but too often Tyr's faithful were overzealous in their application of justice. Their concern with doing the "right" thing could lead to shortsightedness and overlooking what was proper. The elf. The very same one who'd acted so uncivilized earlier, punching a reveler for dumping her liquid refreshment. He and his friends acted out of malice, true, but her response to that injustice had hardly been proper. Even her speech grated on Yusha. Her words were daggers in a knife fight, and she seemed intent on stabbing her way through conversation. Yusha's eyes never quite settle on the barbarian without quickly darting away, though Kalib doesn't seem to share his inhibitions. The eagle stares openly, rarely blinking. As Iban stands aside for the masked human, Yusha looks from her to the others who'd assembled nearby through fate or accident. With a gesture, the image of an enormous crowd sprinkled with a dozen guards attending the fair appears, along with a few words floating underneath. "If the authorities are busy..." A second image appears of a home with a figure running away from the open front door while four cyphers float around him, zapping him to dust. "It would be proper to safeguard such a home." With both images gone, Yusha's eyes dart around from one person to the next, keenly aware of any eyes staring back. "What are your names?" Before the illusory words can disappear, Yusha awkwardly holds up his right hand as a melodious, distinctly female voice issues from it. He taps his chest twice with his left hand. "Yusha." He gestures to the eagle perched on his shoulder. "Kalib." Spoiler: OOC Show Spoiler: Journal Show Spoiler: Cypher - Beast Lure Show This bulky device has a pointy “foot” that pierces the ground. When activated, it sends out a call to a range of about 3 miles, luring one beast whose challenge rating is no higher than 3. The beast makes its way to the cypher’s location at its normal speed and calmly remains there for up to one hour. During this time, you can impart a basic concept or question to the beast, and the beast can convey a simple answer in return. If the beast is attacked, the calming effect immediately ends. After the hour of calm, the beast returns to its previous territory (although it may be sidetracked by prey or attacked along the way).

[Awful]

Shalar Yotul Azari Beast Barbarian 3 AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 13 Rages: 3/3 Conditions: --- Shalar thumped a fist against her wrapped chest with a dull thud. "So speaks Shalar Yotul Azari!" the orc-by-culture boomed. She held up the hand that wasn't still wrapped around Calen's shoulders, and with a snkt! claws briefly slid out her fingertips before she retracted them. The elf beamed, as if showing off her favourite party trick. "War-shifter of the Pallaz Grun - the mighty Pillar Beast tribe, masters of the Valley of Beasts!"

[Amaril]

Calen Damora
Human Wizard 3
AC: 10 HP: 17/17

Calen can't help but wince as the elf woman seizes him by the shoulders, gripping far harder than she probably realizes. It doesn't occur to him to try and free himself, though, so distracted is he by the company he's suddenly fallen into. His eyes widen as the elf extends claws from her fingertips--the name Pallaz Grun sounds vaguely familiar, but he's definitely never heard of that before.

"Uh...C-Calen!" he stammers, remembering the warforged's question after a long delay. "Calen Damora, of the Order of Acath." Finally getting some sense back, he carefully ducks out from under Shalar's arm and makes space for her, pulling the tent flap further aside so he can still talk to the others.

[Inmate XIII]

Realizing the implications of the masked figure's words, Greck glanced helplessly at Iban, who merely shrugged.

The half-orc groaned. "Oh, awright. All four of yehs? Come on now." He made for the back of the tent and opened the flap to wave the group through. "Let the others know I'll be back, Iban. If'n they get mad I'll be late to relieve them, tell 'em it's yer fault."

As the group began to file out, he continued, "Two rules: one, don't bother the locals; two don't try to wander off or I'll drag you back here myself."

[Theophilus]

Ar-Raaqis (Dragon) Faceless Warlock 3 AC: 14 HP: 24/24 THP: 0/10 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Spell Slots: 2nd - 2/2 Bottled Respite: 4/4 Hours Healer's Kit: 10/10 Dragon Conditions: --- Dragon Concentrating: --- The veiled woman bowed shallowly to the group as they leaped upon her request to visit Umeli. The fact that this wizard had disappeared mattered not. Her house remained and would yield some insights. She said to the others, "Incantantrix Umeli may have left a notice for the discerning to discover." She added, "You may call me Ar-Raaqis--the Dragon, in trade tongue. Let us press on beyond this festival." The woman slipped through the flaps beyond the warden, securing her foothold into the residential area. The lantern hovered near her, dimly lit by a flameless light. She strolled using her ornate staff, clicking forward as the escort guided her. The seeker would make use of this eccentric carnival guests. Umeli's sanctum may have wards. Best to let others trigger such defenses.

[purepolarpanzer]

Sundown at the Fair

With introductions mostly taken care of, Iban holds open the back flap of the tent and allows the five of you to move into the quiet streets of outskirts of the Caracara residences. You find this place eerily quiet in contrast to the hubbub of the fair, with no one in sight. It has also been set up as a small rest area for the locals with several benches set up on patches of grass for those seeking some relief from the hustle and bustle of the festivities. It takes a few minutes of walking, with your footsteps echoing off the buildings with dark, shuttered windows, the din of massed people fading behind you like the roar of a circus. It is a small town, however, so it isn't long before you are standing in front of a run down two story home with boarded up doors and windows. There is a sign out front reading "CONDEMNED- DO NOT ENTER" that appears to have been put up by the authorities of the town. The grass out front is overgrown with summer's lushness, overrun with ragweed and dandelions, the fences is weatherworn and nearly falling over, and the empty house looks like a dead corpse when compared to the lived in and maintained homes all around it.

Spoiler: Perception or Passive Perception DC 12

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There is a faint amber glow behind the boarded up windows on the second floor that pulses then fades.

Spoiler: Perception DC 18

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There is a sound from inside of something fragile breaking, as though it had fallen onto the floor. Or been thrown against the wall.

[Theophilus]

Ar-Raaqis (Dragon) Faceless Warlock 3 AC: 14 HP: 24/24 THP: 10/10 PP: 10 PIv: 10 PIs: 10 Spell Slots: 2nd - 1/2 Bottled Respite: 4/4 Hours Healer's Kit: 10/10 Dragon Conditions: Armor of Agathys: 10 THP and 10 cold damage to anyone who strikes her in melee. Dragon Concentrating: --- The Dragon surveyed the exterior. She gestured as she did, the sigils awakening on her metallic veil. The mage pronounced the ancient words aloud, "Enhance audiovisual." Then Ar-Raaquis' helmet elicited an energized hiss as she registered the sounds within the structure. The woman raised her gauntlet to highlight a shield with a snowflake icon, dragging it to her silhouette. Then she completed the gesture with a command, "Initialize Agathys' Levistian Protocol. Open the door! Someone intrudes upon the Incantratix's house." Her helmet visor gleamed glacially blue while her robes sheened in frost. The woman gestured sharply with her staff to point the others toward the dim flash of light that quickly faded, urging them to open the door.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Guided Perception: 18

Cast Armor of Agathys.

[Amaril]

Calen Damora
Human Wizard 3
AC: 10 HP: 17/17

Calen finds his hopes fading further as their strange group approaches the house, clearly empty for quite a while. A remark about there not being much point in knocking comes to the tip of his tongue, but before he can voice it, the amber light flashes through the window boards, and the masked woman snaps into action. The syllables she pronounces are unmistakable--the True Speech. Calen's eyes go wide as a sheen of frost forms on her robes. That's no spell he recognizes. Is she a wizard? Not of the Order, that's for certain, but she does seem to be from far off....

"Hold on," he protests, instinctively half-whispering. "That could've been anything--some device or spell acting up. Even if it is an intruder, shouldn't we go in quietly?"

[Awful]

Shalar Yotul Azari Beast Barbarian 3 AC: 15 HP: 32/32 PP: 13 Rages: 3/3 Conditions: --- Shalar perked up at the notion of possibily breaking things. She cracked her knuckles and grinned. "As you say, dragon girl! " She extended her claws and hooked them into the boards around the door, then with a swift grunt yanked them off like the head off a rabbit. Wood creaked, cracked, and gave way under the relentless pressure of the elf's arms. She took a step back, clapped her hands together to get the dust off, and let her claws retract. She smiled towards the buckethead, arms crossed over her chest proudly. "A door, opened for you!"

[Amaril]

Calen Damora
Human Wizard 3
AC: 10 HP: 17/17

The creaking and cracking of the boards makes Calen wince. "I was going to say," he pipes up as Shalar returns, "there's another way in, around the back. But, uh...never mind, I suppose."

[Inmate XIII]

Allowing the Dragon to take the lead, Greck brings up the rear. He kept a close eye on the group and pointed to his holy symbol whenever they got inquisitive looks from citizens, assuring them that this was all above board.

As they reached the house his eyes were drawn to the upper window and he stared mezmerized at the light for a while before being startled by Ar-Raaqis' words. "Eh? You sure about that? Let m-" he manages to get out before the elf leaps forward and begins pulling boards off of the house.

He stumbles over his words for a second or two, then sighs, deciding further discussions would be fruitless. Donning his shield he approaches the door and durns the handle, opening it a crack before drawing his hammer and using the shield to gently push the door open.