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Usually Illsurian is a quiet town, where local foresters and fishermen go about there daily business with little excitement. That changed yesterday when the Umbra Carnival and their fleet of circus wagons arrived in the fields outside of town. When a contingent of Varisian circus folk came into town to buy supplies and to hang up colorful posters in every neighborhood, Illsurian was abuzz. Some more conservative folk in the town grumbled about the Varisians, muttering about the kind of immorality the performers would no doubt promote. However most were intrigued by the circus's arrival, many rushing to the outskirts of town to sneak a peak of the coming attractions.
Today morning a parade of circus folk begins marching through town in a spectacle of sights, music and drumming. Banners and streamers herald a procession of clowns, stilt walkers and tumbling acrobats, all of whom wave eagerly to the townspeople, Carnival barkers call out to the people on the street, inviting them to the carnival's opening and encouraging the curious and idle to follow the procession's end to the carnival grounds.
"Come one! Come all! To the Umbra Carnival! Thrills! Chills! Delights for people of all ages! For but a few copper pieces, come have an experience you will never forget!"
Fain loved the gardening. It was good work, honest and cleansing. Most of all, it was morning work, leaving his afternoons free to explore the forest, do some tooling on those leather bracers he was making, or go to the public house ... but not today. Umbra was here and everyone was talking about it! I bet there will be a ring of spectators around the caravans by now, all desperately wanting to join in the wonders and too shy to get near the Varisians. Missus Shernan already has her little dogs trained to bark at the smell of incense. He cleaned his gardening tools diligently with some light oil as he heard the commotion coming from the centre of town ...
"Come one! Come all! To the Umbra Carnival! Thrills! Chills! Delights for people of all ages! For but a few copper pieces, come have an experience you will never forget!"
That's enough of that! Time to go see what the honey has caught. At that Fain trotted towards the dust cloud saying high to strangers as he went. He was a little wide eyed to see how many 'from-aways' have come to town, such people as he has rarely or never seen. Pale skinned folk, too tall folk, and ... green skinned folk?
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The tavern was a sea of light and laughter, a safe harbor from the storm that had blown in from the lake. The shutters were closed fast, and the light of innumerable candles – not to mention the roaring hearth – drove away down the dark and the dampness. The patrons were in fine spirits, roaring in laughter as stories and boasts each more improbable than the last were exchanged, some engaged in games of chance or in arm-wrestling. Yet one patron chose to spend his time alone, and for some reason, the others seemed willing to grant him his privacy, despite how crowded the taproom had become.
Alone with his thoughts, Thrym the clanless stared into a deck of hardwood cards laying on the table next to his ham-sized fists. He could feel the pull of the cards, the power in the beautifully carved and painted images that called to the matching power inside him. That had been his intention when he had had the deck made some years past, a foretelling deck of his own design to match the darkness of his soul where the spark of prophecy resided, and the link had been made all the stronger by the rites of consecration he had then performed on the cards, bathing them in the waters of the Conqueror's Bay on a new moon's eve.
The deck was calling, but Thrym was reluctant to answer.
He closed his eyes, ignoring the roaring sounds of merriment and considered. The fates and the guiding hands of his ancestors had led him all this way South this time, then had seemed to lose interest, leaving him hanging, drifting, wandering without goal. Was there something here they desired of him, or was this just an immortal whim that had put him here, in the far reaches of Varisia? He could hear the excited chatter and faint music outside, even past the clamor in the tavern - some traveling show had come to town, it seemed like, and the people were getting all kinds of excited about it. A coincidence, the troupe arriving almost on Thrym's heels, or something more?
The deck's call was growing stronger – Thrym could imagine it almost vibrating on the table, eager for his touch. And despite his reluctance, he knew the call would grow into dream-consuming nightmare if he kept willfully denying it much longer. He reached out, and the deck seemed to launch itself to his hand – his mind playing tricks on him, he thought, almost convincing himself. Thrym shuffled the deck, then began laying down a field, deciding on the spur of the moment to make it a spiral.
Wonderful cards they were, crafted by a master craftsman according to Thrym's instructions, a seer's implement, a tool for him to make sense of the whispers of the spirits. Houses of Life and Death, Light and Darkness, Sea and Shore, Sky and Blaze, with Shadow in between, ripe with the promise of Chaos, and a host of Unaligned cards to balance it all.
First card, Mason of Death. Builder of barrows, a sign of death to come, not to one but to many. Next, close enough to overlap the first card, Mistress of Shadow, a trickster with a malicious will. As always, Thrym imagined he could see the images carved and painted on the cards animate when he used the deck, something new every time his eye was drawn to the pictures. This time, it almost looked like the Mistress was reaching out to touch the Mason, a gloved hand reaching, reaching, ever closer. The Orb, reversed. True sight clouded, mystery or deception abound, justice led astray. Figured, with Shadow with its chaotic influence in the play. He reached out for another card but realized the call of the deck was fading; he couldn't take the field any further. The spirits had had their say and were had left him.
Thrym sighed heaving, leaned back in his chair and reached for his flagon of ale. Taking a sip, he considered the spirits' revelation. Relative to his current situation? Possibly, but who could tell. The spirits spoke truth, but mere mortal minds, even one trained close from birth, always had trouble making sense of the meaning, thus leading to incorrect interpretation. Also, the wishes and fears of the reader never failed to cloud the vision. He had been brooding over things before the reading, and perhaps now was seeking to impart meaning into the field beyond what the spirits had intended.
Humans; it always had to be all about them, the prideful bastards that they were. Take it from him.
A particularly loud boom of laughter made him frown; for the first time in a long time Thrym looked around him, then muttered a curse in the Ulfen dialect. He closed his eyes, concentrated, made a gesture with his arms as if to push aside air. As he slowly opened his eyes the sounds and sights of merriment faded, becoming mere ghosts of memory one could just glimpse from the corner of one's eye but that always vanished when looked straight at. Gone was the crowd, gone was the abundance of heat and light and sound, the sounds of storm outside. Only a few patrons had had the time to waste during daylight hours to seek a meal or a tankard of ale, and the tavernkeeper hadn't been overly generous with tallow as shadows enveloped the unlit edges of the room.
Now, had the ancestors sought him out for company, or had they sensed his need and offered their companionship to him, Thrym wondered as he spied a shadowy form of an Ulfen ancestor spirit walking through a table as though it wasn't there – and for the spirit, it wasn't.
Had the spirits felt sorry for him, a living man?
Now there was a story fit to scare little children with, he thought as he rose to his feet. At the scrape of the chair, every eye in the tavern was drawn to him, and as he adjusted the heavy battleaxe on his belt, the eyes remained. As if expecting the barbarian to draw his blade and go on a rampage any moment. Thrym sneered at these weak-kneed southlanders and their fears. Closer to seven feet tall than to six, wide of shoulder and well-muscled like the warrior-sons of Ulfen should be, Thrym did indeed stand out. His skin was fair, his hair straw-blonde and worn longer than was the custom in Varisia, with small braids tied with gutstring behind the ears. A full beard covered much of his face, and icy blue eyes peered from under heavy brows. A tattoo in light blue ink gleamed on his right cheek.
All eyes stayed on him as he walked to the door and through it into daylight, and Thrym felt the collective sigh of relief from the room as he vanished from sight. Shaking his head, he ignored the men inside – it was time and past time to see what all the fuss had been about this traveling circus that had come to town.
By the road into Ilsurian, Vard Pendengas sat atop a fence and drank the last drops from his water skin, watching the carnival folk setting up their tents in the nearby fields. His journey south had been a little rushed, but he was glad to see he'd made it time. Replacing the skin in his pack, the halfing jumped nimbly down, adjusted his pack and set off into town with a satisfied smile. The opening days of fairs and carnivals were something he'd come to appreciate in the few years he'd been travelling. Performers seemed to give a little more effort for a new crowd, the audience was more excited to see something fresh, even the hawkers touting food, rides and games had more pepper in their patter.
He passed some townsfolk who had come to steal a peek at the carnival. He also got an occasional curious look himself - he was after all wearing a bright gold sash over his shoulder and around his waist, marked with the holy symbol of his god Kurgess: god of bravery, competition and sports. But his armour and the warhammer strapped to his back clearly marked him as a warrior rather than a carny - so he was regrettably the less interesting things to see that day - it's hard to compete with the Umbra Carnival.
Travelers he’d spoken to had recommended he see the Umbra Carnival, and as fate would have it he had been scheduled to oversee an athletics contest in a nearby town a few days before they were due to arrive in Ilsurian. It looked like Kurgess was smiling on him. Of course, Kurgess would not have been content with a leisurely stroll, so Vard had had to set a fast pace in order to make it on time. "A well-deserved rest tonight, then the Carnival tomorrow." he grinned to himself.
He reached the inn as the sun was setting. He paid for lodging and ordered a meal as he surveyed the room. At a guess, he'd say most were locals or sailors who had docked at the port for the night. A few appeared to be visitors like himself, most likely to see the carnival. There was plenty of conversation (the snippets he overheard were about the carnival), a few dice games and even some arm-wrestling.
Forgetting his tired feet, Vard grinned as spotted the latter and moved over to a table nearby to eat. Watching the contest (and competitors) with a practiced eye, he used his skill to keep things fair and friendly - cheering along at the end of a tough bout, throwing out an encouraging remark when one side was flagging, suggesting a pair to wrestle that seemed a good match, offering a condolence for a loser, or a friendly jab when a winner's ego seemed to be too inflated. He even had a turn himself, narrowly losing to a swarthy dwarven sailor (no-one else had arms short enough to wrestle non-awkwardly).
Turning in (at last!), Vard reflected on his day. "A good, hard journey, and an evening spent doing Kurgess's work - competition to strengthen bonds between citizens, and to learn of each other’s strengths. Strange though, I thought there were rumours of some sort of tension in Ilsurian. Nothing like that tonight. Perhaps it was just a rumour." He smiled as he drifted off to sleep. "I've got a feeling tomorrow will be a good day."
Alenka couldn’t believe her luck. They had been passing through this village on the way to Magimar and she came across a book that she’d never seen before on the anatomy of birds. It had a very detailed chapter about the mechanics of their wings which drew her attention. It took some haggling with the owner but she managed to get the price down to something she considered reasonable. When she was done, she looked around for Jenni but she had disappeared.
Jenni stood off to one side, bored, while Goggles chatted with the fancy-looking man. She could never follow it when the small human got rambling on about her work, so she had wandered across the village square, watching an old lady feed birds. Some of the little birds were so brave that they perched right on the edge of the lady's hand to eat the seeds.
Delighted, the half-orc moved closer, intending to ask the woman to share the seeds, so she could try it. But when the old lady caught sight of the massive, green-skinned half-orc moving towards her, she'd gone pale and scurried away.
Sighing, Jenni looked around, but the birds had flown. Something colourful caught her eye, and she moved closer to investigate. It was a poster, nailed to the side of the public house, and Jenni squinted at it, sounding out the words.
Good thing the village wasn’t huge and Alenka quickly found her companion staring at a poster in the village square. ”Come on Heavy Hitter, time to go. We can probably get to the next town before it’s dark.”
"Can we go? Can we, can we, can we?" She begged her friend as they made their way out of the village. She had no idea if Illsurian was on their way or not, but she didn't let the facts get in the way. "I've never been to a carnival before! It's practically on the way! Pleeeeease? There's gonna be games, and clowns, and jugglers, and all kinds of things! People to tell your fortune, and maybe even wild animals!" Her eyes narrowed slightly, thinking about her friend, and what would be the best way to sway her. "There's gonna be freaks there!"
Alenka had only been half listening as she tried to think of a way to tell Jenni ‘no’ without upsetting her. The vivisectionist was very keen to get to Magimar to find a new mentor and had no desire to waste time at a carnival. However, when Jenni mentioned freaks, Alenka stopped dead in her tracks. All the possibilities paraded through her mind as she thought of the specimen pool she’d come into contact with if they attended the carnival. Not all qualities that made someone a freak were undesirable. ”I guess we can spare a day or two for a little fun. We’ve earned that much after the trauma that I assume we went through.”
They made an unlikely pair, walking into town. The tall half-orc, tuskless, with black hair wound into a complicated knot on her head. She was wearing a patched hide armour over a bright red blouse, brown trousers, and sturdy boots. The well-worn greatsword swinging at her hip made it clear she was ready for trouble. However, she had a smile on her face as she chatted easily with the smaller woman beside her. Alenka was by no means a short woman although next to the half-orc she looked small. The oddest thing worn by the woman was a pair of safety goggles that were perched atop her head nestled amidst her disheveled hair that was mostly white with the exception of her bangs which were dark brown. A long black heavy coat covered studded leather armor and clothing which were plain but well-made. A pair of heavy work boots finished off her look. The only color she wore was an orange cord which tied back her messy hair. She didn’t carry any obvious weapons but this wasn’t surprising considering the large weapon her companion carried. But if one cared to look closely, there were a couple of handles that peaked out from under her coat most likely carried in some sort of makeshift holster.
The activity was ramping up as the carnival made Illsurian its home for the next while. Alenka nodded towards the controlled chaos, ”Let’s go see if they have anything set up for the public to see yet.”
The parade's procession leads into a vast field that serves as the carnival's heart . The space is filled with free shows and vendors peddling food, flowers and streamers. However, the main attractions are found in the tents and stalls that surround the area. Straight ahead is the big top, where the main shows are performed . To the east, another smaller tent advertises a variety of side shows . On the outskirts of the carnival, a sprawl of merchants have also set up tables
To the west is the carnival Midway . This popular section is filled with wagons, tents and stalls advertising all manner of games of skill, each a copper piece to play. Sign post within the Midway also point beyond to the Umbra Carnival's famous travelling zoo .
Behind everything else is an encampment of tents and wagons that the crew use for both storage and their personal residences . A handful of carnival guards politely turn around guest trying to explore this area.
Since the morning show at the big top is already sold out, the carnival workers instead try to usher people towards the Midway, where eager stall workers try to lure people in. Near the entrance to this section, an Ulfen strongman with a particular talent for call outs stands near a 12ft tall structure topped with a stuffed lion's head. At the base, a lever is attached to a puck that slides up and down the long pole. The strong man approaches people in the crowd, carrying a heavy looking mallet across both his shoulders.
"Anyone here have the passion or power to tame the lion? Step up and try your luck! How about your sir! Or you miss?" He points towards Jenni, "Want to use those muscles to show these boys how it's done?" His eye also catch Thrym in the crowd, "Komdu bróðir! Af hverju sýnirðu þeim ekki styrk Ulfen! Who wants to take their chance! Just a copper piece!"
A hooded figure wearing a backpack and a outfit covered in pockets strode through the carnival field, red eyes beneath looking around in curiosity. The hood was pulled back to reveal brown hair in a messy ponytail and the long ears of an elf.
A elf that clearly had some excitement in her life given she had a claw mark down the right side of her face. Luk-Luk Eaglefin was not weary from her travels. The boat ride across the lake had little excitement. Stories of wandering monsters attacking at random seemed to have been exaggerated in her opinion. She'd faced greater dangers at Almas then she'd had on her trip thus far.
Luk-Luk's eyes were not seeking games however. She was looking for someone in charge. While she was doubtful the Varisians would have aught to do with the Bell Flowers, she was hoping that a circus might have links to her other field of interest. If they did not, well she could make a little extra travel money by educating them on how to make some "sky flowers". Or trading recipes. This circus had been a boon as far as she was concerned. Perhaps it was a sign that she was on the right path is she already got to learn more about the wonders of alchemically induced explosions.
A chime of laughter escaped her lips as she sing songed out, "Everybody loves a circus! And fireworks, best to put two together." The action earned her some mixed attention from passing humans. Luk-Luk did not care, "Now, where oh where can I find somebody that actually DOES the fireworks here?" The cries for a lion taming however got her attention. Not to try, oh by no means was Luk-Luk foolish enough to try something like that. Watching someone else give it a go though? That could be entertaining. "Or fun shows first," she looked Jenni up and down, wandering if the woman would take the bait or not.
His eye also catch Thrym in the crowd, "Komdu bróðir! Af hverju sýnirðu þeim ekki styrk Ulfen! Who wants to take their chance! Just a copper piece!"
Luk Luk does manage to get the attention of one of the nearby circus attendants. The woman quickly approaches her, eager to help. "You can catch a variety of pyrotechnic shows throughout the day in the parade grounds, miss! But the big fireworks show? That's not 'til after dark. Usually not until after the last show of the day at the Big Top!"
Thrym scowled at the Ulfen who had challenged him to a feat of strength. This was not a good omen, the shaman thought darkly. True, it was comforting to see a Brother among all these soft Southlanders, but his own reason for being in these ancestor-forsaken lands was not worthy of boasting and Thrym dreaded the direction any conversation with the muscle-bound giant would undoubtedly take.
He was just about to turn his back to the challenge when he suddenly lurched forward, almost losing his balance - a spirit had just slapped him heartily on the back, and when Thrym turned to glower over his shoulder he (and only he) could see the spirit grinning jovially, urging his descendant on. Clearly, avoiding the challenge didn't sit well with the spirits. For what reason, Thrym could only speculate - he might be born with the gift of communicating with the clan's past heroes, but that didn't mean he understood the twisted paths their thoughts traveled. They were mortal no longer, and only loosely tethered to time. And while they were generally bound to the ancestral lands of their own clan, Thrym had learned they could use his own blood as their means of circumventing that particular limitation.
Having been committed, and having to assume the spirits had some purpose to their urging, the Ulfen shaman stepped forth, reaching for the offered mallet. He might as well get it over with quickly and hope for the best.
"Hur skulle jag förfall din utmaningen?" he growled in the Ulfen dialect, accepting the heavy tool and taking a moment to test its weight in his hands.
Spitting in his hands, Thrym adjusted his grip, rolled his shoulders and fixed his eyes on his target, breathing heavily in and out, in and out.
"Förfäderna! Bevittna!" he roared suddenly, bringing the mallet down on the lever with all his might.
Jenni wandered around with wide eyes and a smile on her face. Games and vendors, clowns and strange animals - she couldn't wait to see it all.
When the strongman challenged her, Jenni looked at Goggles for permission. When her friend smiled and nodded, the half-orc clapped once, then stepped forward. However, a tall, blond human, even taller than her, had stepped up, so she waited for him to go first.
"Well done!" she applauded enthusiastically. "My turn, my turn!" She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck, and flexed her arms; the fabric of her scarlet shirt strained over her biceps. Then she accepted the hammer, tested its balance, and swung with all her might.
Alenka walked through the crowd with a critical eye. When the Ulfen called out to Jenni, she groaned inwardly. She had no doubt in her mind that the challenge was rigged but it was only a copper piece and Jenni looked at her with such eager excitement.
"If anyone can do it Heavy Hitter, it's you."
While Jenni waited her turn, Alenka sidled up to the proprietor. Under her breath she warned, "If this game has been engineered to prey on the weak-minded, I will not be amused."
The nearby crowd fell quiet for a moment, at Thrym's primal shout. His hammer crashed into the lever with thunderous clang, sending the pellet flying up with great speed and causing the lion's head to let out a huge roar that could be heard across the entire carnival. People at nearby game stalls stopped what they were doing to see what had happened. The strongman's face turned into a huge grin. "Never underestimate the strength of an Ulfen, ladies and gentleman! My oh my, I have never seen this before in all my years! First swing of the day and we already have our King of the Carnival!" A huge stuffed bear, easily bigger than the average halfling, is shoved into Thrym's arms. However, it quickly became clear that this was not his only prize. A pair of canival workers came running to the stall blowing trumpets and presenting Thrym with a paper crown. "This crown marks you as King of the Carnival! It marks you as a hero of the fair and grants you a 50% discount to all big top and side show performances!" The strongman announced as he gestured for Thrym to turn towards the audience. "My good sir, why don't you tell everyone your name and where you are from!"
The Ulfen continued trying to egg people on to play, "Any more takers! You don't have to hit it as hard as the King top win a prize! Yes, ma'am. Come on down."
As Jenni took the hammer and slammed down on the lever, the lion once more let out a mighty roar, even louder than before. The crowd, this time realizing the significant of the roar, let out a huge cheer. However, the Ulfen strongman and the two trumpeters looked rather incredulous. "Uh...ladies and gentlemen we have...a...uh...another winner?" While the strongman's voice was still booming, a tone uncertainty made it clear that they had never dealt with a back to back grand win before. He shot a nervous side glance to Alenka, as one of the trumpeters started to awkwardly trumpet, while the other appeared to be looking for guidance from a middle aged woman observing from the back of the crowd. She gestured him over to her, while the strongman began to stall for time. "This truly is an...unexpected turn of event...I guess there is something here in the water in Illsurian! I do hope our machine has survived this onslaught!" He turned to examine the contraption for a brief moment. Despite the theatricality of it all, his inspection of the machine for both damage and sabotage read as quite genuine. Much to his relief, the trumpeter came running back to the scene with another huge bear and another crown. "Ladies and gentlemen, every king need a queen! I present to you the Queen of the Carnival." He declared, before repeating his spiel about discounted shows. "...And please tell the crowd a little about their new Queen!"
"Ok. Whose next? Anyone can win big...as you can see!" The Ulfen said, as he continued his recruitment, relieved at least that the double wins had likely saved him the ire of the skeptical goggled friend of the Queen, "I guess let's see if there is a Prince of the Carnival!" He said with an laugh, but a nervous look in the eyes. A few more guests tested their strength, resulting in a mixture of failures and regular wins, much to the relief of the carnival workers.
Fain felt like he was perpetually late to everything, he hated things getting started without him and, although it was still quite early for the hullabaloo to come, people had already gathered ahead of him. Stuff was clearly happening and he was missing it! He trotted quickly to the edge of the carnival's heart and circled it where there was still some grass to cool the underfoot.
But he was like grass to almost everyone else as he got jostled and backed-into, apologizing for their behaviour he found himself in a current of onlookers going east. He squeezed out just in time to find himself in front of a familiar face and right pleased he was to.
"Oh, Missus Jangral! Fine to see you. Is business good this warm day? You know what they say, 'Happy hearts makes for hungry bellies'. Oh ... is that one of your bilberry pies?", he slid a piece of silver as far as he could reach, peaked up over her stall counter and grinned earnestly hoping for some back chatter and a good return on his coin ...
He took his little pie-lette, waved at young master Scathers as he passed, Hmm, is there a line drawn in the sand? The locals and 'from-aways' don't seem to be mixing. To be expected I s'pose. and then got lost in the throng again to find himself quite on the other side of the fairgrounds.
As Jenni stepped back from the lion taming contest she felt a taught tug at the thigh of her pant leg. Beside her was a wide brimmed hat. It tilted deeply back to show a little man less than half of her height. Sweat tracks ran through his dirty forehead and random earthy handprints covered his ochre shirt, evergreen suspenders, and canvas pants. He was looking at her a little hypnotized and then remembered himself.
"May I have a go?"
He handed her a small pie with a bite mark in it wrapped in some wax paper in trade for the hammer.
"Finish that off if ya' like.
He tossed the caller a copper and drug the hammer to the mark looking back at Jenni.
"Ya see, I don't think it's here ...", he pokes his bicep, "It's up here ... all in the way you do it.", pressing his finger into his temple. He lifts the cudgel straight up as not to unbalance himself and brings it down on the button - his face screwed up in concentration. His large pouch on the back of his belt clinked with small gardener's tools.
"No, no, no, there's a knack to it. I swear."
"Excellent! I study fireworks at Almas but you can't see the variety of alchemical wonders in just one place. Travel to learn the trade. I'm sure it'll be a great show!" is Luk-Luk's exuberant reply. If she had the chance she'd try to hunt down the carnival's fireworks master. Hopefully they made the fireworks themselves so she'd have somebody to talk alchemy shop with while here. Oh and there is a strength show going on. The big Ulfen man is the first up to swing the hammer.
Winner no less, getting a whoop of approval from Luk-Luk.
Luk-Luk would have been more impressed but then a green skinned bruiser of a woman shows him up splendidly. This earns extra applause from Luk-Luk, who can't quite place the woman's ancestry. The woman could've been a half-orc but they usually had tusks, right? She laughs at the threat Alenka makes to the proprietor. And then the strongman got nervous, "Oh ho ho, I don't think you want to have claims of a rigged game so early in the week," she sings out after Alenka's threat spooks the humans. And then there's another crown.
Old habits die hard when they're bad habits, which is why Luk-Luk gleefully sang out, "Upon the carnival's first scene, its gains a king and a queen! Will their victories could be routine? Discovering that I am keen." She looks over at the white haired human, "You seem fun. You wouldn't know either of the royal pair would you?" Luk-Luk's red eyes focus upon the goggles on Alenka's head. A loud hum escapes the elf as she finds something familiar about the style.
Jenni grinned broadly. "Jenni Skullsplitter I am called, oh loyal subjects! But you can call me your highness! Or is it majesty? Either will do!"
Suddenly, her attention was drawn to a tugging at her side, and before she knew it, she was holding a pie. The tiny creature had as much chance as lifting the hammer as a babe, but Jenni had to admire his optimism. As he lifted the hammer again, she grabbed it easily from him and set it down. "Here friend, take your pie back. That hammer is too big for you!" Taking in his appearance, she asked, "Are you local? You don't look like a traveller!" More like something a traveller would eat for breakfast.
"Fine to see you too young Master Fain!" The old baker replied. Jokingly, she tutted and wagged her finger at the halfling. "Now don't you go gettin' yourself into too much trouble now!" Cutting him a slightly larger than standard piece, she gave him a wink and whispered, "But make sure to get into a little trouble, for an old lady stuck in a stall!" Clearly everyone was in good cheer today. "Get on out there lad! Enjoy the carnival!"
Alenka stood with her arms crossed and watched the crowd as first the Ulfen and then Jenni became royalty of the Carnival. She hid her surprise as the lion roared twice proving the contraption wasn't rigged. She made a mental note of the middle-aged woman on the outskirts of the crowd because she seemed to be the one who was truly in charge, at least of this part. One never knew when one needed to talk to the person who had the power.
She couldn't help but grin when Jenni was handed a ginormous stuffed toy bear. The half-orc would most likely treasure the item even though Alenka would have much preferred a real stuffed bear.
She figured she had escaped anyone's notice with the spectacle that the Ulfen and Jenni had become when she heard a voice beside her. She turned her head, looked down, and raised an eyebrow. "Fun...you think I seem...fun." It was more of a statement than a question because a question would imply that you wanted an answer. She nodded in the half-orc's direction, "I know Jenni."
Vard arrived at the carnival bright and early. After a quick detour to purchase a corn-on-a-cob-on-a-stick, he headed straight to the Midway.
"Check out the games first, then catch the afternoon show."
He strolled around munching on his corn, watching as the other carnivalgoers try their luck and skill at the various stalls and keeping a careful eye open for any underhandedness.
As he disposed of his cob-on-a-stick, the booming voice of the Ulfen strongman reached him and he hurried over to the "Tame the Lion" stand, when another Ulfen had just caused the lion to give out a mighty roar. Vard grinned widely, impressed at the fresh take on the old game.
The Ulfen was followed by a muscled half-orc who also got the lion to roar with a massaive swing. He had to chuckle as he watched the strongman theatrically (and not so theatrically) check over the machine. "Well, they're playing fair - would have been more surprising if those two hadn't done it."
He watched as the fellow halfling had a turn, then strode up to the halfling and clapped him on his back.
"A good effort! I have to tell you that strong arms and a wise head are both good! But the most important thing are the feet. If you don't step up to have a go, then arms and head count for nothing."
Throwing a copper to the strongman, he grabbed the hammer.
"Of course," he continued, feeling the weight of the hammer. "hands are also important, especially with a hammer made for the big folk. Got to have them a little bit wider than normal - one for the pivot, one for more push.. like so!"
Vard watched the puck shoot part-way up the pole. "And of course, every swing is different. Some good, some bad. You can never tell until you do it."
He flashed a smile at the Ulfen caller as he hands back the hammer. "Thank you! I've seen plenty of these tests of strength, but none with a lion on top. Very nice! May Kurgess smile on you today."
The elf nodded, ponytail bouncing behind her head, "Yes, you've a fun air about you. Plus as you said you know, uh, Jenni." Luk-Luk smiled, "She sounds like a fun Queen, apt to have a royal adventure. Why wouldn't I want in on that?" She nodded her head towards Jenni who was trying to return a pie to a halfling. Luk-Luk shook her head as the halflings were giving a go at hammering the lion. Yes she knew there were strong halflings out there but the hammer couldn't be balanced right for smaller folk.
She folds her hands in front of her face before pointing with both index fingers pressed together at Jenni, "Consider this for my company. Jenni there seems to be building herself a carnival court," then the index fingers point at Fain, "She's gathered a baker, so why not add a," she separates her fingers to point at herself with both thumbs, "fireworks maker?" Luk-Luk laughs at her horrid rhyme. "Ah yes, manners. I forget them so. I am named Luk-Luk."
"My good sir, why don't you tell everyone your name and where you are from!"
Thrym was torn. On one hand, he had just been challenged to a feat of strength and had triumphed. On the other, winning had placed him on a pedestal and he did not carve for attention. And thirdly, he had absolutely no idea what to do with the stuffed animal he had been handed. It was a prize, but not the kind he was accustomed to. A drinking horn, a necklace of copper or silver, a carved runestone, a serviceable weapon... those were proper trophies, not this... whatever-the-spirits it was supposed to be.
Still, he had been asked for his name and it would be craven to withhold it. And his own competitive spirit demanded exultation after victory. Thus he raised his arms (and incidentally the bear he was holding) over his head as he answered. "Thrym, son of Thyr, of the North!" he roared, wondering if this form of address would satisfy the other Ulfen, or spark his curiosity as to why Thrym had avoided naming his clan... but he was saved by the bell, quite literally, as a orc-blooded woman took her turn with the hammer and caused the lion to roar again.
As the second victor of the day drew everyone's attention away from Thrym the shaman sighed in relief. He readily relinquished the spotlight to the woman, inclining his head to the half-orc in respect. That had been a mighty blow, one Thrym had felt through the soles of his boots - easily rivaling his own swing if not surpassing it.
As the crowd still marveled at the quick nomination of the Queen and a pair of halflings queued for their turn with the mallet, Thrym waded into the crowd, wanting to put some distance between him and the Brother before the other Ulfen recovered enough of his wits to become curious of Thrym's tale. As he pushed past the people he spied a little slip of a girl staring longingly at the stuffed bear he held. Frowning fiercely, Thrym walked over and thrust the bear into the little girl's arms.
"The cub needs a mother," Thrym growled at the girl, then left the surprised child behind without another word.
"Here friend, take your pie back. That hammer is too big for you!" Taking in his appearance, she asked, "Are you local? You don't look like a traveller!" More like something a traveller would eat for breakfast.
Fain took a bite from his pie, his neck strained a bit to look up at Jenni's eyes. At the suggestion he may be too small he put a hand on his hip ready to talk back, but his shoulders fell and he softened. His mouth still a little full, "It really is. Well, you know what they say, 'Tell a wee fish to climb a ladder and it's sure to feel quite dumb. Ask a wee fish to swim and swim and it'll show you how it's done.' ... ahem, on the QT, I'm not a great swimmer either. But I am from here, for the last two years anyway. My name is Phainopepla but you can call me Fain, Miss Skullspl ... sorry, your Majesty. Titles where titles are earned. If you need any help getting around, a good inn, the local magiks and baubbles shop, the town well ..." you do seem a bit guileless, hmm, is there someone with you ... the goggled woman "please come find me. Just remember to look in the low places." Fain gave her a wink.
He watched as the fellow halfling had a turn, then strode up to the halfling and clapped him on his back. "A good effort! I have to tell you that strong arms and a wise head are both good! But the most important thing are the feet. If you don't step up to have a go, then arms and head count for nothing ... Got to have them a little bit wider than normal - one for the pivot, one for more push.. like so!"
Fain hadn't seen a halfling from-away for some long time and was surprised to get a clap on the back at the proper angle ... umf, still strong though. He was quick to give advice to the Queen of the Carnaval but not so quick to take it. His, "Oh, I see.", came out sceptical ... until the fellow bettered him.
A bit more respectfully, "I'm sorry, I'm no good at placing accents. You look like you've traveled. Fain.", he offered his hand and looked to the man's feet to see that he was proper shoeless, which Fain took to be a good sign.
Despite the chaos, the Ulfen strongman eyed Thrym curiously as he gave a short introduction, then slunk into the crowd. However, he had his hands full with the half-orc's surprising second win and said nothing. As Thrym looked through the crowd, he spotted an isolated wagon close to the zoo with a big poster depicting a crystal ball and colorful cards. Above this graphic are written the words "All-Seeing Hajeck". The door to the wagon opens and a cheerful young woman hopped out, nearly colliding with Thrym. "Oh, sorry, sir!" She apologized, before rushing over to another group of young woman, "She said she thinks the good thing will happen soon! He's going to propose! I knew it"
--
In the center of the Midway, a handsome Varisian man began trying to drawn people towards a bright pink tent, plastered with posters advertising "The Lovely Madam Masque". "A show is about to start soon! You won't want to miss this one! Are you cunning enough to see through deception? Throw your copper into the betting pool!"
Inside the pink tent there were three raised runways that met at a point like an arrow. Where the runways met, there was a tall rectangular box, covered in mirrors. Once the tent had been filled, the carnival barker entered and took his place on a raised speaker's podium near the catwalks. "Lady's and gents! Let me present to you the Lovely Madam Masque!" From behind a curtain appeared a shapely Varisian woman, dressed in a provocative Varisian costume gown of red and black silk, held together by ribbons. The audience hooted and hollered at her arrival. Her face was concealed by a finely crafted silver mask, showing only her playful brown eyes, as she strutted down the center catwalk, silently waving and nodding towards the crowd. In addition to her costume gown, she was adorned with all manner of scarves, necklaces, earrings and other decorative costume pieces.
"Our game is simple, but challenging! You will have to rely on your powers of observation. Now watch our Lovely Madam Masque closely...and be careful not to get...distracted." As he said this, Madam Masque waved flirtatiously at a nearby teenage boy, who stared at her as if in a trance. This earned a hard smack on the arm and an annoyed huff from the teenage girl standing next to him, causing a ripple of laughter in the crowd. She continued to work the catwalk for another minute or so before returning to the back of the stage and entering into the tall mirrored box. She gave the crowd one more seductive wave, before closing herself in the box.
"Now comes the hard part!" The announcer explained. "Our incredible lady is now about to do one impressive wardrobe change!" The box opened once more, revealing three copies of Madam Masque, each wearing a different outfit. The announcer paused for gasps and applause before saying, "Oh, did I say one wardrobe change? I meant three! But the Lovely Lady Masque's has made a mistake in her haste! One of the three Lady Masques is still wearing an item from her earlier outfit! The first man, woman or child to tell me which item and which Lady Masque is wearing it...Wins the pot!"
"She said she thinks the good thing will happen soon! He's going to propose! I knew it"
Thrym watched the elated young bride-to-be scurry away, her head filled with hopes and dreams, before turning back to the fortune-teller's wagon, considering. True, he had sought out the wagon, out of idle interest. And while the Harrow had deep roots in Varisia, the shaman well knew most readers of the cards and diviners by other means were mere skilled performers. But there was always a chance, and it was rare a day Thrym met another adept of the art. Thus, the possibility was worth investigating.
His mind made up, Thrym strode to the door and knocked, rapping the knuckled of his ham-sized fist sharply against the wood. "Woman. Ready your deck for a Harrowing! I would learn my fate," he declared. He had considered, briefly, just storming inside, but just in case the woman was what she claimed to be, he chose to abide by laws of courtesy.
The caravan interior was decorated with lace and silks and smelled strongly of incense. Hajeck gave Thrym a knowing look and welcomed him inside. She shuffled her deck thoroughly. " Please, have a seat. First let's look into your past..." she said softly, as she drew the first card. "The Courtesan. A sign of political intrigue in your past...or perhaps a woman?" She looked up to see Thrym's reaction. "Yes. Definitely woman." She drew the next card and gasped a little. "The Forge! The deck is clear on this one! There is a dangerous event in your past...an event that needed to be overcome by strength!" She flipped another card and gasped again. "The Rakshasa! Another true alignment! The fates are strongly speaking today! Dominance. Mind Control. Slavery...these are things it could mean." She once more looked to Thrym's reaction, "It is the woman again, perhaps? A dangerous seduction!"
"But these are things in your past. Let us look to your present." She began a new column and flipped a fourth card. "The Mountain Man. A symbol of physical power. Is there some external power that has effected your current situation?" She flipped another card below it and gave Thrym a sympathetic look. "The Lost. It symbolizes emptiness and loss of personal identity." Upon flipping the sixth card, she gasped once more. "A misalignment! Usually the Trumpet bears good tidings. A declaration of just power!" She eyes the crown on his head, "But this misalignment forebodes bad tidings. Motives that are not noble. Power grabs today that will no doubt bring injury tomorrow!"
"Now, what I am sure you are most interested. The future." She flipped the seventh card, creating a third column. Upon revealing it, she gave an approving nod. "The Paladin. In the ill tides that have been foreseen, you will stand strong under adversity and do what is right." She flipped another card and once again looked relieved. "The Publican. Fellowship. Camaraderie. Refuge. These things have been missing from your life. But they will soon be found once more...If you are willing to let them in." Finally Hajeck flips the final card. She frowns at it and shakes her head. "The Theater. When misaligned it is the bane of fortune tellers everywhere. It is a sign of unreliable prophecy...that even the fates are not sure what your future will be..."
Her voice trails of dramatically. After a long pause, she smiles and holds out her hand. "That will be one copper."
The woman's telling cut close to the truth, too close to be completely random, even though Thrym did see her taking her cue from what she could read from his expression and stance a couple of times. Still, he had found it difficult to master his expression when the Lost had been set to the very middle of the field, reminding him of his exile.
Perhaps she did had the Gift, after all, yet remained unaware of it? Stranger things had happened.
"Thank you, seer," Thrym rumbled, notably more politely than before, nodding his head briefly to her as he placed the coin on the woman's palm. "That was well read, and well for me to take heed of." He left the wagon deep in thought, wondering if the spirits had indeed reached out through the woman to try and tell him something.
"Fellowship..." he murmured as he wandered the Carnival aimlessly, going where the flow of crowd took him.
Queen Jenni allowed herself to be motioned into the pink tent. Finding a seat for herself, and another for the huge bear, she gazed in open admiration at the attractive Madame Masque. "Wow, look at that outfit!" she started to whisper to the woman beside her, before realizing that she'd been separated from Goggles.
Shrugging, she knew that her friend had probably found her way to the freak tent. Instead, she goggled at the woman, who danced and gyrated on the catwalks. As she spun, Jenni stared at the braid in her hair. It was interwoven with scarves and combs, and Jenni's expert eye started to pick out how to recreate the hairdo.
When the three near-identical women appeared in the box, Jenni jumped to her feet and clapped her approval. And the answer to the challenge was so obvious! "It's the hair comb! The dragonfly one, with the pearls. She's wearing it, right there!"
.
"Yes, you've a fun air about you..."
Alenka frowned, "I do not think that word means what you think it means. I've been called many things, never fun." She sighed, "If you want to be part of the Queen's court, you'll have to talk to her. Tell her that Alenka sent you."
She started moving along with the crowd being ushered towards the pink tent. Alenka was contemplating checking out other less crowded parts of the Carnival but decided to keep Jenni in sight instead. There was plenty of time to find the freaks and Alenka didn't want to be rushed. As Madam Masque's show began, the vivisectionist was watching the crowd more than the performer and she stayed near the back of the tent by choice.
Vard shook Fain's hand warmly. "Vard Pendengas. I'm from a small fishing village on the eastern coast originally, although it's been some years since I left. I was called to follow Kurgess," he indicates his holy symbol - "so now I travel around, visiting carnivals like this one, contests and competitions, making sure everyone is honest."
"It's good to see another right-sized folk though - we're a bit scarce in this part of the world. Are you a local?"
As the tall half-orc was drawn away to the other stalls, he gave her a quick bow. "Congratulations, Queen! You and the man from the North certainly gave the carny here a bit of a shock!" He looked around at the crowd "He must be a stealthy one though, he seems to have vanished!"
.
Fain tipped his hat to this strange strong halfling, "Friedlikh frimorgn!"
"... and, yes, I'm from Shpaikler's Meadow originally but have been an under gard'ner here for two years.", If I keep him talking maybe he won't notice I'm tagging along to see what he is up to - Kurgess huh?, "If you'd like a guide in the village, I'm your fellow. For example, did you notice all of the local vendors have taken a position nearly outside of the circus fairground? All of the Varisian vendors are in the green proper. Now, it may just be poor organization in the setting-up or it could show some more unnatural segregation." Fain broke off half of his remaining pie and handed it to Vard like it is expected that halfling's share their food.
As the crowd began shouting out objects Jenni's answer quickly gets the carnival barker's attention. "Madame Masque? Is it the hair comb?" The two Madam Masques not wearing the dragonfly hairpin disappear and the original one reappeared from the mirrored box. Walking next to the remaining copy, the two turn so that the two hairpins can be compared, resulting in a few groans in the audience. "We have a winner!"
Madam Masque's remaining clone disappeared and the real woman walked over to Jenni. She pulled a silky red scarf off from around her neck. With a graceful gesture, the scarf seemed to float above Jenni before landing gently on her shoulders. Several onlookers gave Jenni, an envious look, particularly those who were there for her previous win. With that Madam Masque retreated of stage, stopping only to give Jenni one last over-the -shoulder wink. "That's our show ladies and gentleman. Winner please come see me for your winnings." Upon seeing the game runner, he hands Jenni 10 copper pieces, her share of the winning pot.
However, there was not time to relish in the victory. Suddenly a piercing scream echoed through the midway. Then another. Then the sound of running. Outside the tent people come running by. "It's loose! The baby dragon is loose!" Far down the midway a big lizard can be seen walking down the midway, hissing at anyone nearby. Above him flies a worried looking humanoid, with a grayish face, flapping his massive ears as if they were wings. "Uh...uh...Everybody calm down! Oh dear! Oh dear! Oh dear! He's just scared! Oh no!"
"<Thank you!>" Vard takes a bite of pie. "<This is tasty! Y'know, I had heard rumors of..>"
Screams interrupt him, and he turns to see the source of the commotion.
"That's not right." He takes off towards the beast, drawing his warhammer and dodging around some fleeing patrons.
"Ahoy there!" he shouts to the trainer. "If this is the show, you need better patter! If it's not, please take control of your beast!"
"No! God no! This isn't a show! Where is Berthold! I'm no animal handler! I just feed 'em and clean the cages!" The creature looks panicked to the point of hyperventilation. "Stop it if you must...but please don't kill him! Oh god! Mistress Delisen is going to be furious!"
Thrym was forced to admit he did almost enjoy the Carnival - it was something completely different, and while he did find many of the attractions garish or childish, there were plenty of new things for him to see, to draw his attention outwards from their habitual inwards spiral. He found he didn't even mind the paper crown... too much. It was a trophy of sorts, a sign of accomplishment, and if it meant he saved a few coins as he sampled some of what the merchants had to offer, so much the better.
A tankard of mead in one hand, and a skewer of roasted meats in the other. his beard already dripping grease, the shaman followed the crowd aimlessly. He did begin to pay attention to the number of spirits present, though... here an antler-crowned shaman clad in body-paint and furs and little else, sitting cross-legged before a cage housing a large feline, staring the cat eye to eye (Thrym noted the animal, perspective as their kind often were, staring back, at least on some level aware of the ancestral spirit's attention), there a skald in his signature patchwork cloak strumming a lute. Every way he turned, he caught a glimpse of a shade the other festival-goers were blind to, even though a few of the more sensitive ones might occasionally flinch away or turn their head as if they thought they heard something.
It was not usual for the spirits to be so close to the mortal world. True, they were ever present to Thrym were he to choose to listen and see, but rarely did he have to actively try to ignore them to see the world past visions of long-dead heroes and their world. Now, what was it that was drawing them out? Perhaps this was a field of old battle - the earth long remembered blood soaked into it, and the fear of death and agony of mortally wounded had a way of lingering, drawing the attention of the spirits and giving them strength to touch the world more firmly.
"It's loose! The baby dragon is loose!"
The Ulfen looked up sharply as the first screams were sounded, putting his height to use to look over the heads of the crowd, his eyes widening as he was some kind of a huge lizard walking down the path, the people running away from it in panic. Perhaps it was not lives lost down the ages that had drawn the spirits, but the promise of fresh blood, spilled here and now.
In Thrym's vision, tendrils of mist began to gather with unnatural swiftness and the briny smell of a sea breeze filled the air as ranks upon ranks of Ulfen ancestral spirits strode forth to stand with their living descendant against his enemy.
“Ancestors! Witness!” the blonde giant growled as he strode closer, drawing his heavy waraxe and readying his shield. "Min yxan törst!"
The ancestral spirits raised their voice in eerie shouts of approval, audible only to Thrym's spiritually sensitive ears. Clad in furs and coats of rusting chain mail or barnacle-encrusted breastplates or bare of chest, helmed or bare-headed, wielding spears and axes, mauls and swords came the spirits, many looking much like they had in life, some resembling mere desiccated husks of men, empty eye-sockets, skin the texture of dry leather stretched over bones, what flesh remained contracted to thin strips the consistency of oak roots. But despite appearances, brothers, one and all.
"Ödlan! Kom hit! Jag ska blir din motspelare! the shaman roared, throwing wide his arms to try and draw the beast's attention to him.
Jenni grin faded as she saw the big lizard make its way around the side of the tent. Her heart immediately went out to it. "Poor thing! It must be terrified!" Seeing people drawing weapons and shouting at it, she cried out, "Don't! Leave it be! Just get everybody away and I'm sure it won't hurt anybody!"
The creature turned and hissed, clearly identifying the Ulfen as a threat. It stared Thrym down for a moment before running at him and nipping with its teeth, elliciting shocked gasps from onlookers. It was not clear if these were simply warning bites or if Thrym simply got lucky, but the bite did not connect.
Luk-Luk cared not for the woman's frown giving a shrug, "Well nice talking to you then Alenka, I guess I shall find my fun over yonder," she waves a hand at Jenni and walks in that direction.
The walk turns into a run as the little dragon starts to panic. Luk-Luk rushes in, screaming at the King of the carnival, "Back off right now. I speak dragon AND I'll burn anyone that tries to kill a scared infant! Luk-Luk puts herself between Thrym and the baby dragon. Luk-Luk has her right hand down in a placating gesture towards the dragon. The left hand is palm out towards Thrym, possibly in a stopping motion or to prepare a spell.
The elf faces the baby wyrm and begins trying to talk to the dragon using Draconic, <"Calm little one. I'm Luk-Luk, what is you name? Do you want help? I will happily give it.> Her tone is kind as she does want to help. Dragons are sentient beings so if the dragon is being mistreated, well that is kind of slavery as far as Luk-Luk is concerned.
Fain and Vard were having a pleasant conversation and eating pie one moment and the next Fain was nearly by himself. That one has a good heel on him - I knew he'd be one to watch. He gave chase after, going wide eyed as Vard drew his hammer.
"No! God no! This isn't a show! Where is Berthold! I'm no animal handler! I just feed 'em and clean the cages!" The creature looks panicked to the point of hyperventilation. "Stop it if you must...but please don't kill him! Oh god! Mistress Delisen is going to be furious!"
Fain stopped to take a look at this 'Dragon' while yelling, "Well don't just stand there Man! Go get some binding! You must have animal restraints?! Don't worry which is right, just grab a bunch and get back here!"
Since Alenka was at the back of the tent, she was one of the first ones out when they heard the commotion.
Looking up she said, "Hey! Fly-boy! Where would I find this Berthold or Mistress Delisen? Surely this isn't the first time an attraction has gotten loose. What protocols do you have in place if it were to happen? Collect your wits Fly-boy and focus!"
She figured that there were enough people in place to make sure the frightened baby dragon wouldn't be hurt and so she turned her attention to trying to find a member of the Carnival who could actually help.
"Mistress Delisen? She's usually wanders the carnival keeping an eye on things! She could be anywhere! And I don't know where Berthold is! He's supposed to be here to deal with things like this! He's supposed to make sure things like this don't happen! This has never happened since I've worked here!" He turns to Fain, "Um. Right! Okay! I'll go raid the shed! Or see if I can find someone!" With that the big eared creature started flying back towards the zoo. However, that still left the very aggressive lizard unmanaged in the crowds.
In response to Luk Luk, the "baby dragon" does nothing but hiss, as if uncertain who to attack first, the elf or the large shouting man.
This is definitely not a baby dragon. It's not even draconic.
This is an adult monitor lizard. Monitor Lizards are often mistaken for dragons, a fact the carnival is no doubt using to make the creature more marketable. But in reality it is just a human sized lizard with no greater than animal intelligent. An animal that can be quite aggressive when threatened and it will probably not be restrained without a fight.
Vard glances over as the great Ulfen shouts some sort of battle-cry and the lizard pounces towards him. "Oh, there he is. Looks like he can take a hit. Vard follows the lizard, moving into a flaking position with the Ulfen as an elf starts trying to calm the beast down.
"Let's try to do this gentle, eh? If no-one can calm him, let's not damage him too much." he says to the Ulfen. I hope he's not in a battle rage and still has some wits. To the elf, he remarks "Calm it quickly if you can - can't risk it running off and biting some kid."