Alia struggles to see something, but is annoyed by the voice, shouting back grumpily:
There's a long pause. Then the voice returns.
"UNLESS YOU CAN OUT-FIDDLE UH-ME! YES, IF YOU CAN OUT-FIDDLE ME I'LL GIVE YOU A PRIZE, OTHERWISE-!"
Matheus emerges from the smoke to the north of camp without his spear instead he's holding his rapier.
"Dammit, I wanted to get some sleep." Scarlet rouses awake, grabs her weapons and stands up.
"Zzzzz... Zzzzz...."
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"Outfiddle you? Seriously? You wake us for that?"
Trying to get her bearing, Alia turns on the spot, then attempts to cast Light:"Turn off that Darkness already so we can find a fiddle."
"Hey over here." Rock!
"Right. What do you really want? Posh, is this a friend of yours?"
Rubbing her eyes the skald sighed and called out. "Does it have to be a fiddle? Can't we sing instead?"
The fox remains completely unaffected by the smoke... but very annoyed. He was having a great dream. He stays low by Victoria's leg, listening to pick out the sounds of the intruder.
Rubbing her eyes the skald sighed and called out. "Does it have to be a fiddle? Can't we sing instead?"
Another long pause.
"SO BE IT!" And suddenly the air erupts with the merry sounds of fiddle, clapping and stomping. The sound is infectious!
Round 1! (Theme ♬)
The Bold May Act!
_________________
__ Voice of DOOOOM! readied
__ Illthir
__ Posh (-4 to Dex/Str from the smoke)
__ Alia
__ Victoria
__ Scarlet
__ Matheus
__ Serena
__ Durgan
__ Zokon
Durgan is affected (if within the area of effect).
"Posh, let's see what you've got!"
Zokon moves a further 10 foot or so until out of the smoke.. and establishes whether he can see or not with the available light?
Damn, that's a good beat!
Scarlet can't help but clap and stomp with the beat.
Zokon moves a further 10 foot or so until out of the smoke.. and establishes whether he can see or not with the available light?
The music seems to erupt from all around and is effecting the other nearby camps as well, as men rouse from their sleep and begin to caper, cavort, frolic, gambol, prance, shimmy strut, and even tango all about.
The fiddles, and stomping grow more and more insistent.
Illthir closes her eyes and shakes her head. She had heard worse. And better. But she'd take any invitation to sing!
Loud and clear she started singing a common drinking song, something she felt would fit right in. And maybe if she were lucky she could bait the prankster into singing along!
Alia picks a direction away from the fire and starts moving
"Show yourself. If you want to make it this kind of contest, I am willing to participate!"
- DC 14 Will Save.
Zokon bow at the ready will try and find the piper tracking by sound
Music? What nonsense is this? Serena tries to roll in the last direction that she knew of as being clear and leading out of the choking smoke.
With Arris in tow, Victoria tries to move toward the edge of the encampment out of the smoke. She casts a simple cantrip to at least better light her way. (casting dancing lights--to give the music a disco feel)
Posh whirls and capers out of sight .
"I'll be back later this week!" he cries as his feet carry him away.
To Zokon there does not seem to a single source, but a small string orchestra playing all about them. Alia is ready to pounce herself but doesn't find a willing and open target.
Slowly, the music turns, and becomes that late-night tavern standard whose lyrics Illthir interjects into the mix. Aided of course by Victoria's light magic and a few of those small squares of mirror that men at camp use for shaving.
The smoke disperses after a minute of this. And because Illthir's choice of song is sooo long whatever other enchantments there are seem to fade, and strengthen repeatedly over the course of the minutes long performance. In these times some members of the camp who where not taken by the spirit of the music are and those that were might find temporary reprieve, or no forced compulsion to dance at all beyond their own appreciation of the art.
The music finally comes to an end, leaving most of the men at camp breathless and staring about. And a few covering up because women are present.
And then off in the distance party can hear a jarring, but plainly victorious tune that fades to nothing under the eaves.
Illthir looks down at her feet and finds gold coins of what seems to be an old, out-of-date mint.
Scarlet pants. And catches her breath.
"Wha... what was that? Stop singin', Illthir."
"Huh. Fey, I think."
"Hmm probably, I managed to evade it's tricks, but I still could not find it, sounds about right from what I remember of my early education with the Medvyed's who are quite close with their local fey." he is still looking around.
"I have been working at learning the language of the fey."
"Traveling with Erevenywg, encountering these creatures with their fiddles... that Nuckelavee was also a fey creature, according to the reports I received in Mivon. I didn't encounter so many in the past, but they seem drawn to this group.
I know that my demon-slaying axe will also cleave fey skin, but I'd like to learn more about them than just how to kill them. Like what they want, and how we can coexist."
Illthir stops singing with a deep bow and picks up the coins and an old violin. The holds the instrument carefully and looks around in the forest. "Thank you. I look forward to you trying to win this back!"
Then with a beaming smile she turned to her companions. "That was a sing-off. And I'm fairly sure I won! This time."
The skald continued to have a content smile on her face as she sat down and carefully plucked the strings of the violin. She really had no clue how to play the darn thing, but it couldn't be that hard right? *Ahem* With some practice at least...
"Mischievious creatures, the Fey. Also cruel. Needlessly so. Their world operates on different rules. In my experience, it is least dangerous to play along with their games where possible. But keep that axe close, Durgan."
Alia looks around, making sure everybody is alright, then congratulating Illthir to her victory.
Finally, she turns to Scarlet:"I'm back to sleep...hoping this was the last we've heard of them. See you at shift change..."
"Aye. See you at the next shift." Scarlet grabs her bedroll.
"Was a good song, though."
The rest of the night passes too quickly as most of the camp have difficulty resting.
In the pale, misty morning the party moves on to the tiny village of Nivatka's Crossing. The collection of a dozen or so buildings straddles the South Rostland Road and the newly dubbed Varn's Way--a path that leads southwestward into the mountains and into the domain of Swordlord Maegar Varn.
The scene is much quieter than the last time some of the party came this way.
|
"And it is here we make our farewells." says Matheus from his saddle. "We travel to the mountains, and to our new home of Varnhold. I'm sure Lord Varn will welcome you to his keep once it has been completed and fitting for such noble company. I also look forward to the day that he may visit your home so that I might lead his vanguard into your feast hall and join you in the first toast. Do not be strangers now."
There's a loud crash from what must be the glass-maker's hovel.
As much as she'd rather focus on reaching their destination, Victoria can't quite ignore such a loud crash. "Ooo, that sounded bad. Think we should take a look? Or is it just a waiter who's about to be fired?"
Serena is already in motion, moving to the door of the glassblowers.
"Castigan. Good seeing you. We'll meet again, I'm sure of it." Scarlet goes for a handshake.
"What was that noise?" Scarlet spins in the direction of the glassblower's house. She runs off, her swords drawn.
Zokon is a little less reactive than his companions so he looks round to assess the situation a little first
As Alia waits her turn to say farewells to Ser Castigan, the crash interrupts them.
With some of her friends, Scarlet among them, rushing into action, she smiles at Mattheus apologetically: "It would seem our departure gets slightly delayed."
She thinks back to the last time they've been here:"Maybe Akate is picking up some new wares and carelessly picked up a crate?"
"Fare well Castigan. And I look forward to that; give the Lord our best regards." Illthir waves and tries to imagine the bandit lord's old fort restored to splendor. She liked to think she had a good imagination, but it wasn't just quite there yet. It'll be more inspirational once it's cleaned up a bit I am sure.
"Crash? Akate? Hmh." She guessed that that might make sense somehow, but for now she was content to observe rather then speculate how. Right? No! Speculation was fun. "She's a glassmaker then? Or aspiring bard practicing percussion? Should we say hi - or be worried?"
"Farewall Castigan and take our best wishes with you and also convey them to Lord Varn please and hopes of future friendly relations."
"May your ventures prosper, Castigan. And those of Lord Varn."
---
Durgan follows along, curiously. He has been to the hamlet of Nivatka's Crossing before and tries to recall the name of the glass-maker.
"As I recall, Akate would be better off not picking up anything, sadly. It's a terrible curse the gods have laid on her. Glassmaker would be a very poor choice of profession for her. Drummer? That could work, I suppose."
A fiendish young woman comes stumbling out of the glassmaker's hovel chased by a stern older woman with a broom. The foremost is Akate the Trice-Damned. The woman threatening her with the broom is no doubt the local glass-maker.
"AND DON'T COME BACK!" shouts the woman before going back in and slamming the door behind her. There is a shout from within--this time in surprise, and then another series of crashes sound from the shop.
Akate gives a little huff of indignation. She dusts herself off and tugs on the hem of her vest, causing all of its buttons to fly off and bounce upon the ground in front of her.
Akate sobs.
Scarlet catches up and quickly sheathes her blades. "Ah, we met in the tavern, right?" Oooh, buttons! Scarlet starts picking up the buttons.
"I think I have a spare dress if you need one. Might not be the right size..."
"That sure sounds like a *lot* of mending spells will be needed..." Illthir mumbled and looked around, just in case there were some low level adventurers in need of a quest nearby. Nope. Well maybe one - the Skald agrees with Durgan's assessment of that one "Percussionist maybe yeah."
Illthir dismounts and approaches, helping Scarlet picking up the buttons and Mending them back if she can and is allowed to try. "Tcht. Seeing someone being chased by a broom sure brings out ... memories. How are you holding up?"
He turns to the fiendish woman. "Akate. I am sorry for your troubles. Perhaps... perhaps there is a way I might help you... Akate, the gods often bless with magic those they saddle with curses. Some cosmic sense of humor, I suppose. By any chance, are you able to heal injuries? Have you ever tried? If you can, that could be a way to earn the coin to compensate these little accidents, and more besides. I could show you the schedule of rates that priests of Abadar use for such blessings, so that none could rightfully say you were being unfair. I could attest to the nature of your gifts to spare you accusations of consorting with evil powers. Your neighbors will forgive a few broken trinkets when you can mend broken limbs."
Serena raises an eyebrow. She considers briefly if her healing touch might cure the demon-girl, but decides that she was probably not powerful enough to do so... yet.
Zokon sees that the situation is well in hand but does not approach as well, he doesn't want something to fall on him.
"Hey Akate. Anything we could help you with?", Alia asks the desperate woman.
Turning to Zokon, she whispers and smiles:"Say, do I get a Handmaiden as Duchess? What's the Brevoyan custom on that?"
[dice=will]1d20+2
Posh whirls and capers out of sight .
"I'll be back later this week!" he cries as his feet carry him away.
To Zokon there does not seem to a single source, but a small string orchestra playing all about them. Alia is ready to pounce herself but doesn't find a willing and open target.
Slowly, the music turns, and becomes that late-night tavern standard whose lyrics Illthir interjects into the mix. Aided of course by Victoria's light magic and a few of those small squares of mirror that men at camp use for shaving.
The smoke disperses after a minute of this. And because Illthir's choice of song is sooo long whatever other enchantments there are seem to fade, and strengthen repeatedly over the course of the minutes long performance. In these times some members of the camp who where not taken by the spirit of the music are and those that were might find temporary reprieve, or no forced compulsion to dance at all beyond their own appreciation of the art.
The music finally comes to an end, leaving most of the men at camp breathless and staring about. And a few covering up because women are present.
And then off in the distance party can hear a jarring, but plainly victorious tune that fades to nothing under the eaves.
"I'd assume you'd be able to get whatever we could afford, Nobles can generally get away with what they want, providing it doesn't break the kings laws." he whispers back