"Does the drumming mean there is a celebration we can attend, my friend?" Andrzej eats up the soup with gusto and enjoys the slightly musty tang of the white meat.
A celebration would be a good way to spend our time here. Getting to know the villagers better. I have missed the road and the pleasure of the campfire music.
Chickenbone regards Res closely at his question. "It's not easy ta say. It's the spirits. The spirits tell me you got da evil with you. But you also got da good. Beware da evil." He grows quiet and pensive. Then he smiles at Andrzej's question. "They dancin' away the spirits. Ye can go see it if ye want."
Leandro declines the offer of soup with a slight shake of the head and continues watching and listening. The old man's mention of evil seems to alarm and interest him. He falls in near their host as the party makes their way to the fire and dancing.
"Sieur, uh, Chickenbone, how can the spirits tell we have evil with us? Can they tell where the evil is so we may purge it?"
Res finishes his soup and joins Andrzej on the way to the dancing. He is relieved to see Andrzej's demeanor lighten. Too many times has he seen a comrade miss a blow due to tension and pay the ultimate price. Remaining vigilant while enjoying the battle has always served Res well in the past.
At Leandro's question, the witch-doctor says, "De spirits speak as dey will. Nothing so specific."
Now that the sun has set, darkness has settled over the swamp like a stifling blanket. You pick your way carefully in the direction of the sound of the revelry. As you near, you can see through the trees the faint glow of the bonfire. The drumming is ecstatic and the yells of the folk are wild and savage.
The bonfire reaches up some ten feet, and smaller fires surround it. A collection of natives beat hand drums while others dance wildly around the bonfire. Around the smaller fires, some leap over the flames, oblivious to the searing heat. In all, the natives seem to have worked themselves into a frenzy, and scarcely notice your arrival.
Handing his rapier over to Tybalt, Andrzej moves forwards clicking his fingers to the beat until he is close enough to join in the dancing. His grace and talent are rusty but the boy has some moves. At this rate he will soon be lost in the moment like the rest.
Perform Dancing 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19
Taking the rapier with some reverence, Tybalt watches on as he sees the rare dances of the Vistina along with the local tribes folk dance. For though he'd read tales of the people of the swamps he'd little imagined he might get to witness such a performance.
The music takes him, drawing away his paranoia in the flurry of the beat. Finding himself tapping his other hand against his thigh to the rhytmn, he looks to the others with him.