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Each of you have received an urgent missive from Venture Captain Sheila Heidmarch summoning you to the Pathfinder Lodge in Magnimar. You gather your belongings and make your way to the lodge.
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Simiel picks up his summons. He holds it in his right hand tapping it on his right thigh as he considers his actions. He nods seeming to have reached a conclusion. With a slight grunt he lifts his backpack onto his shoulders and closes the door to his small office as he moves out into the street and off to the offices of Venture-Captain Heidmarch
As you eye your fellow agents from the relative comfort of the common room in the Pathfinder Lodge in Magnimar, a door leading deeper into the lodge bangs open and Sheila Heidmarch enters the room with a flourish, striding purposely forward with a regal air. She then looks around at each of you, waiting for someone to speak up. Without waiting very long at all, she sighs and flounces into a chair before speaking.
“Well that's enough small talk. A rather interesting carnival, the Umbra Carnival, is making a stop in Ilsurian this upcoming month. It is a rather curious carnival. Most notably, it proclaims to have a baby dragon and a gynosphinx—-rather unusual creatures to serve humans in any capacity, much less as carnival attractions. I would like you to go to Ilsurian, make notes on your impressions of the town. I also want you to attend this carnival and find out what you can about both the dragon and the gynosphinx. Do not tarry too long. I expect your report within 2 days of the Carnival departing Ilsurian."
She gets up and heads back toward the door through which she entered, then pauses at the threshold and seems to add almost as if in afterthought:
"Oh, and while you’re in Ilsurian, please stop by the local pawn shop, the Locked Box. My fourth-best pearl tiara, an invaluable family heirloom I assure you, somehow managed to end up in its shop window. Never mind how it got there. Believe me, the team responsible for that mishap is on a much less pleasant task than visiting a carnival and enjoying some fried dough. You'll find the claim ticket in the envelope on the coffee table, along with your tickets for the Carnival as well as for passage upriver on The Slippery Mermaid.”
With that, Sheila Heidmarch turns to exit. She ignores any questions you might have with a wave of her hand. Just before slamming the door behind her, she says, "This is a simple task. I'm sure you can manage it on your own..." Her sigh is audible even through the closed door.
As you make your final preparations before heading to the docks to catch your riverboat, you may attempt to learn a few things about your intended destination.
Knowledge Local or Diplomacy (gather intel):Ilsurian
Knowledge Local or Diplomacy (gather intel): The Umbra Carnival
“A traveling carnival? Beware my friend! These things are just a front for criminal activity. The games are rigged, the sideshows are farcical and the food is filthy. Sure the women are comely, but their welcome smiles and scant costumes are a distraction for the menfolk to cut your purse. My cousin got lured behind a wagon by a likely wench and got his head cracked open for his trouble. Blasted dancers! Now he’s dumb and broke. Trust me, keep your distance!”
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Simiel has read a lot of books and spends his time while walking combing his memory for either Ilsurian or the carnival.
Muttering, as if to himself as he thinks Simiel says Ilsurian, yes. On the banks of Lake Syrantula next to the mouth of Skull River.
A little louder so that everyone can hear him he says Watch your purses at the carnival. They are often fronts for criminal gangs and cutpurses. They can be good spectator sport though, watching fools and their coins be parted.
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Jaretti holds his hand out for Centimere to get acquainted.
"Seems easy enough, Sheila." Jaretti mutters in ever decreasing volume as she leaves the room.
"Right then. Well, I need to purchases some supplies for our journey. Don't go too far lady and gents, I'd hate to lose track before we even begin."
Jaretti works the streets of Magnimar and finds himself in a seedy alley, talking with a Varisian acquisitions expert. After exchanging a few pleasantries about the finer details of the craft, the Varisian leads him back further into the alley, past reeking detritus littering the dirt, and around the corner into a tight passage between buildings. It leads to a pristine flagstone courtyard with a garden and a fountain. There's a small pavilion set up, and there he finds some refreshment, and a selection of tools of the trade laid out on a table. Jaretti quickly dismisses the mediocre equipment on display and the Sczarni Varisian nods in approval. He then walks over to a nearby rain barrel and opens up a secret compartment in the lower half. He pulls out a bundle wrapped in oilcloth and carefully lays it out on the table. There is a fine selection of masterwork thieves tools. As Jaretti peruses the equipment and makes his purchase, he mentions the Umbra Carnival and Ilsurian. The Varisian immediately spits on the ground and offers up what could only be a few curses in his native tongue, before expounding on the uptight CHelaxian bigots that run the town of Ilsurian. He adds with a rueful chuckle, "Just the descendants of a failed military expedition..."
After a long and uneventful journey upriver, the last leg of which you cross the large Lake Syrantula, you arrive at the docks of Ilsurian late in the afternoon. From the boatmaster, you learn there's only one decent Inn in Ilurian: the Crossroads Inn. He also informs you that he and his crew pretty much just make the run between Magnimar and Ilsurian, stopping at all the little villages along the way. They should be back in a couple weeks to provide your return trip to Magnimar.
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An odd looking dwarf enters the room. No dwarf could ever be considered scrawny (short yet, but not scrawny!), but this one seems to be an exception. And his skin is paler than normal. Sure, dwarves don't exactly spend a lot of time in the sun, but this one seems to have gotten none at all. And he wears no armor! And isn't carrying an axe! Maybe he's not a dwarf at all? No, he is definitely a dwarf.. but so odd.
"Greetings and salutations, friends and Pathfinders!" OK, he is also loud. He greets each of you with a warm smile and friendly handshake. "The name's Rumple Dergskin, but most people just call me Rumple... or something unpleasant" He adds that last part slowly, with a thoughtful expression on his face as if he were truly puzzled.
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The odd little dwarf greets everyone equally, even Centimere. "Aren't you a fine beast? Truly marvelous. I wonder how long you'd take to fully decay." Then he moves off to greet the next adventurer with equal cheer.
"Oh, a carnival. What fun!" He claps his hands and bounces on his heals slightly. "A dragon? How odd.. you'd think they'd draw more crowds with a vampire or mummy.."
Before departing, Rumple approaches his fellow dwarf. "Threelhammer, my friend. Might I trouble you for a favor? You too, my angel?" he says, glancing at Eroil. "For you see, I have a.... .condition. Please do not use any healing on me and try to keep me out of any positive channeling. I find it very unpleasant. Instead, I would much prefer if you were to use this wand on me, in case anything goes wrong." He hands a wicked looking wand of twisted bone to Aurk.
During the voyage, you hear him musing to himself, several times, about how big the cemetery will be and how many generations back it goes.
When they arrive, he nods in agreement with Eroil. "Yes, yes, the inn. What better place to meet people and find out who's dead?"
As you stroll through the town heading for the inn, you take a slightly circuitous route in order to take the pulse of the town and allow Eroil a chance to Gather Information. The entire town is abuzz with excitement because the Umbra Carnival is in town. You hear all sorts of outlandish stories, but the more level-headed citizens describe a motley parade of wagons and dray animals that pulled up on the outskirts of town early this morning. While there is obvious disdain amongst the numerous townies of Chellaxian descent (which is literally about 9 out of 10 locals) for the swarthy Varisians, there is some begrudging respect at the speed and professionalism with which they erected the Carnival, some of which was already open for business.
Indeed as you're chatting with one rather snobbish Chellaxian native, you notice you're strolling past the Locked Box, which has a sign in the door that reads:
CLOSED FOR THE CARNIVAL. PRESSING BUSINESS BY APPOINTMENT ONLY.
Eroil learns that the proprietor of the Locked Box is Archivin Walder, a human male who's Ilsurian’s chief moneylender, and occasionally a reluctant pawnbroker. Archivin is known to be a hard bargainer, though fair in his business dealings. He's rigorous in trying to avoid dealing in stolen goods, and the pawnbroker side of the business is usually about trying to help honest citizens down on their luck. He's married to Agnes Walder, and even when the shop is closed, usually at least 2 guards remain in the shop at all times. There are four guards that actually reside in the shop. Archivin and Agnes live in a separate home, though nobody seems too keen on revealing where that might be, mentioning that Archivin only discusses business in his shop, a stickler to keep his personal and professional life separate.
When you reach the Crossroads Inn, the place appears completely devoid of any activity. When you enter, there's just an ample Ulfen woman working on some darning behind the bar. She smiles and introduces herself, "I am Helga Jormungand, wife of the owner and proprietor of the Crossroads Inn. Velcome.
"Utva, that foolish husband of mine, is at the carnival, vasting our hard-earned coin on those silly games. He can't help himself. Boys vill be boys, eh? But I haff more important things to attend to." She holds up the large sock she's repairing. She pauses a moment to look you all over, and then her eyes light up. "You must be the Heidmarch party. Your rooms are ready. There's stew on the stove, but it'd be better to give it a few more hours; I only just put in the potatoes a little vile ago. You drop your bags offf in your rooms then head offf for the fun and games for a few hours, eh?" She hands over 6 keys with numbers on them, then she shakes her head and mutters to herself "Boys vill be boys."
She waves in parting as she heads into the kitchen. "I go check on stew. Haff fun!"
You find your rooms clean and well-kept, with fresh water in the ewer next to the wash basin, and a clean towel at hand. There's fresh straw in the mattress and all seems to be in order.
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Aurk takes the wand from Rumple and looks at it strangely, but nods. "Aright. Use strange wand on you if ya need it."
Aurk gladly takes the key from Helga. "Boy ve boys." He then points to himself, giving a hearty laugh.
Finally he goes to his room, but just tosses his stuff in the corner before leaving. "Go to carnival?"
As you approach the northwest area of town, you hear the joyful shrieks of children cutting through the rising murmur of crowd noise and the mixture of hurdy-gurdies, bells, whistles and other instruments you don't recognize. The scent of deep-fried dough battles with that of savory roasting meat.
A path runs east here from the midway toward the traveling zoo. To the south are booths with pavilion tent tops that provide shade for the games of skill and chance played beneath. Behind them are circus wagons, some clearly only for transportation and equipment, while others are attractions and portable shops for merchants. To the north is a gigantic tent erected on tall poles with a stage curtain pulled shut across its front.
Before you lies...the Midway. Barkers seek to entice the throng of townies into trying their hand at games of luck & skill, promising much, though more often you hear the disappointed "Aww" from the onlookers as yet another contestant fails.
The closest booth is manned by a very large Ulfen man who's wearing a fur loincloth and a horned helm. He's reassuringly patting the shoulders of a small man dressed in local fashion. "Vas a goot try. Perhaps put some ice on that shoulder for a while, eh? Then come back and try again later?"
Beside the strongman stands a 3-foot-wide and 12-foot-high wooden tower crowned with a stuffed lion’s head. At the base is a lever attached to a puck that slides up and down a pole running the length of the tower up into the lion’s head. A heavy, long-handled mallet leans against it.
He sees your group and smiles. "Ah, fellow travellers of the vide vorld! Velcome, velcome. Did you come far to see the wonders of the Umbra Carnival?" He directly addresses Jaretti. "Perhaps you would like to prove your power and passion by taming the savage beast on yon pole. There's nothing more stirring than proving longshanks aren't the only ones who know how to wield a mallet." He suggestively wiggles his eyebrows in comical fashion.
His eyes quickly slide past Eroil and Ankird, settling on Simiel and Rumple. "Or perhaps one of you two would like to try? Only one copper to prove you are worthy..."
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Simiel will drop his backpack in his room, but will retain his spell component pouch and belt pouch. He joins the rest of the party downstairs and walks with them to the carnival. He does not speak, but retains a distant, haughty air as he walks through the streets.
He stands by, looking bored as the barker tries to part suckers from their coins.
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The odd little dwarf lets loose a loud laugh. "Ha! I probably cannot even lift that hammer! But for the sake of a good time, I'm willing to give it a go!" Stepping forward nimbly, he stares at the great mallet. Deliberately, he rolls up his sleeves, spits on his hands, and rubs them together. "Right, let's do this!" Grabbing the oversized mallet, he swings it around once or twice in a wobbly, horizontal circle, his tiny body following the mallet unwillingly. Finally, he directs the whirling mallet of doom in an upward arc. It nearly lifts him off the ground, but he somehow manages to keep his footing and strains to direct the thing at the lever.
Aurk picks up the heavy wooden mallet and tests its heft. It looks natural in his hands, but the chirruping of a nearby bird catches his attention as he brings the mallet down, and the puck on the pole feebly slides about halfway up. The lion at the top of the pole lets out a quiet meow and licks its lips in a bored fashion. "Nice try, my bearded friend. Perhaps another time?" The Ulfen man pats Aurk on the shoulder reassuringly.
Eroil steps up and takes a mighty swing, and the puck slides all the way up to the lion's head, though it doesn't quite slide inside the head. The lion lets out a quiet roar, and the Ulfen heartily slaps Eroil on the back. "Well struck, m'lord. Of course I'd expect no less from one of your fine caliber and upbringing. Almost enough to win a prize..." He returns Eroil's copper for his efforts.
When the pale sickly dwarf Rumple steps up to grab the mallet, the Ulfen man gives him a wide berth. He steps further back as Rumple awkwardly spins about before lurching forward to strike hard and true. The barker's face lights up as the puck actually eases its way just inside the lion's head, and it again emits a quiet roar. "My friend, you are full of surprises. Well done!" He hands Rumple what appears to be a small snapdragon firework with a lion's head printed upon its paper wrapper.
The Ulfen offers a bright smile to Simiel and the halflings. "Any off you gentlemen care to proof your mettle? Perhaps one off you could bring out the Roar of the King!"
The little halfling takes careful aim and brings the hammer down with all his might. The puck travels just inside the lion's head--higher than any other contestant thus far--and another mild roar emits from its head. "Well done, my little friend, well done. You haff earned the respect of Narthi Vangkot," he offers a slight bow while handing over a small snap-it firework that looks like a lion's head with it's mane pulled up into a spike.
As you stroll along the midway, you come upon the next booth--actually a mid-sized tent. Inside, three raised runways meet at a point like an arrow beneath a brightly colored pavilion tent. Where the runways meet sits a tall, rectangular box covered in mirrors. Off to one side is a raised speaker’s podium. Posters on makeshift signs depict an attractive woman in a provocative gown and silver mask, with the words THE LOVELY MADAME MASQUE in bold print. There are 4 men armed with saps, one by each runway, and one by the cabinet of mirrors.
A barker calls to the crowd, "This game is as simple as it gets. All it takes is a keen eye, a sharp mind...and 1 silver piece. Each player kicks a silver into the kitty, and the winner takes half the prize money, the rest, of course, goes to the house for expenses." All 5 men take a bow at the word expenses, and many in the crowd chuckle, though some mutter about lazy Varisians expecting to get paid for just standing there.
1 man and 2 women step forward and offer up a silver piece to play.
"Come, come folks, that's hardly enough to entice Madame Masque to emerge. A chance to see such a beauty is worth 1 silver in itself, much less a chance to get paid for the privilege."
The barker spots your group lingering in the back. "You fellas look like you've seen a thing or two, know how things work. How about seeing which of you has sharpest eye and keenest wits. A chance to show up your mates and drink on their coin for the evening!"
Ankird boldly strides up and grasps the hammer with both hands. He rears back and imagines the striking pad as a goblin's head. He smashes down with a mighty blow and the puck soars up into the lion's head and it gives off a huge roar that attracts the attention of every carnival goer within sight (and probably those who can't see it). The Ulfen positively beams at Ankird as he offers a slight bow of his head and asks, "Might I know your name, my good knight?"
He then reaches into his basket of swag and pulls out a stiff paper crown, and he raises his voice for all to hear. "Hear ye! Hear ye! I, Narthi Vangkot, have the humble honor to present Sir Ankird Softpaws, King of the Umbra Carnival."
He then places the crown upon Ankird's head, and offers a deep heartfelt bow.