Bubba shakes his head at the amazing display of athleticism. "Well done, Valgrim. And he's as close to a friend as we can hope for now. Well done."
"Oh, there are a few choices. How ostentatious do you plan to be?"
"Not spending more than 500 gp on an outfit."
"Oooh, a pretty dress! I haven't worn one of those since the F-f-f-flower F-f-f-f-festival f-f-fifty-f-f-four years ago!" Vug remembers fondly.
Valgrim describes an outfit for Bubba so he can direct him to the proper store. Something like this: Link (see 5th image down - Dwarf)
Bubba is able to get you a 20% discount on your outfits (as long as you discreetly hint at where you got them). The minimum to avoid shaming yourselves is 30 gp (a courtier's outfit) with at least 50 gp's worth of jewelry. Armor is allowed as long as it is polished, but weapons are frowned upon. It is not possible to overdress.
On the seventh day of your stay in Maskholm you are wakened by a tremendous din. Trumpets sound across the city, every drum, orn, and bell in every place of worship call out (as instructed) to announce that the Day of Great Rejoicing has arrived. The streets throng with happy, smiling faces, the locals cheer and rejoice, babies are held aloft and patriotic songs about the divine mercy of Midas are sung at every corner.
A few hours before sunset your ride comes to pick you up for the party. The carriage is almost shocking in its decadence — a gold-plated vehicle of incredible size and garish ornateness waits for you to board. A group of four trolls serve as “horses” for this ostentatious monstrosity, each dressed in ill-fitting suits designed to call out their hideous countenances all the more. The carriage itself is driven by a lanky, wide-mouthed man with black robes and a tall black top hat. A sizeable crowd gathers and gawks as you board.
The carriage interior is incredibly sumptuous. The leather seats are padded with down and gold lanterns burn pleasantly-scented oil. A tray contains several crystal decanters of wine and silver salvers of sweet-meats. The driver never speaks, and once you are aboard takes you directly to Midas’s Palace.
Beyond the gates of Midas’s Palace is a steep rising path, flanked by polished skeletons in gibbets. The path winds up the rocky promontory upon which the palace and its grounds are constructed. When your carriage reaches the top, you are asked to decoach and are then led to the Vertiginous Terrace — a lawn that overlooks a 200-foot-drop into the sea below. Other guests have already arrived, and they mill about in small groups, talking quietly. Several of the guests carry wrapped gifts for Midas.
You all see a muscular 4'2" dwarf, pretty much dressed like in the link posted above. His blond hair and beard are neatly trimmed and he wears a freshly polished breastplate underneath his tunic. He has no weapons on him (). He has a sour look on his face and he is clearly uncomfortable with these types of events and the lavish displays of wealth. He has a bit of a worried look on his face. He leans over to his half-orc companion.
Valgrim whispers to Bubba, "We didn't bring a gift and I doubt Midas will want gold. It will be up to you to smooth things if we're questioned about it."
"No gift? May be a problem for us."
Vug wears a snappy red and white ensemble with an enormous bustle and a dead bird in her hat -- the height of fashion! She has even made a particular effort to smell less like ammonia and sulfur and more like lavender and roses.
(She stows her haversack underneath her bustle and her mithral chain shirt under her dress.)
Bublaka gives the dwarf a 'really?' look, "Friend Valgrim, I always travel with the perfect gift for the ruler or ruler-to-be: boost to the ego."
Bubba's outfit is very understated with clean lines and simple colors, but as the light hits it from different angles, a subtle shimmer of colors can be seen, but it is gone too quickly to focus on. The effect is interesting because the plain nature of the outfit attracts the attention of the peacocks that wish to look more gaudy by standing near him while still providing an outfit worthy of the company.
Taking advantage of the peacocks' attention, Bublaka milks them for rumors and news - as would be appropriate at such a party.
A very delicate-featured young woman with a floating gait and a very-high-waisted dress floats through the crowd charming nearly everyone she meets. There is a definite twinkle in her eye as she visits with other party-goers and piled high upon her head is a coiffure of pale hair that surely must be held in place by magic - that bejeweled netting could not possibly have the strength... It must be two feet tall!
Suddenly, she stops and squeals in obvious delight at the sight of a half-elf that has just arrived and she moves across the way so smoothly that an observer would think she was literally flying.
Valgrim chuckles at Bubba's comment. "You're right my friend. I was a fool to worry. You should shine in this arena!" He motions over to the crowd of beautiful people. "Vug, I'd never thought it lassie, to see you in a dress! Wonders will never cease!" Valgrim laughs loudly.
You mingle with the other guests at the reception. Apart from B'kruss (who passes you with only a faint sneer) and a few friends from Wolfstone, a couple of guests deserve mention.
Lord Malaven Kilraven is an ironhaired, weather-beaten man with a hook instead of a right hand. He carries himself with pride and speaks with a strong, clear voice.
Mariss Quemp is a half-orc, although as half-orcs go, he’s actually rather handsome, with his orc heritage almost unnoticable. Well-groomed and always dressed in the finest clothing, his towering frame still seems as if it would be more at home in a battle than at a party. He gives Vug an appreciative wink.
The other guest have brought gifts. Are you going to let Bubba fast-talk you out of it or are you running out for a last-minute purchase?
"Gifts? Have no f-fear! I always come prepared."
Vug rummages around in her bustle, looking a bit like she's scratching her bum.
She hands the items one at a time to Bub for presentation.
"One syringe of curious design: commissioned by the noted necromancer F-filge f-for his personal use."
She pulls out a potion of Ghoul Touch. "One vial of a most intriguing narcotic brewed by F-filge himself. An injection is capable of producing the most unusual sensations and odours."
"And last but not least: one green sash, worn by one of Valgrim's Valiants during their unprecedented series of victories in the arena. Only f-five were ever produced. The perfect gift f-for any sports f-fan in your f-family!"
"Now it's up to you to make them sound good, Bub."
So focused on her half-elven target, Roylenna is not aware she is being stalked until the massive feather ballgown skirt envelopes her. Picked up bodily from the mass of feathers by a beautiful woman with platinum blonde hair, "Got ya!" The woman laughs loudly as she musses the halflings perfect hair. The woman is stuffed into a quite revealing plunging backless dress that clings so close to the skin it openly displays every nuance of the muscles trying to burst free underneath. It seems to be made of some sort of shimmering iridescent very fine serpent hide on top, which seamlessly melds into the skirts brilliant colorful blaze of feathers. A mithral choker with a waterfall of precious stones, that closely mirror the color and pattern of the feather skirt, sparkle in the great halls lights from the hollow of her throat. Her eyes narrow as she pulls the halfling close before hissing in resigned indignation, "Was this really necessary? I hope your happy. It took four women to get me in this. Well...and a man...but he had to carted off after getting too handsy." Strange tribal tattoos can be seen running down the sides of her face and around her arms until they disappear underneath the opera length gloves. Her long blonde tresses are wrapped elegantly on top of her head with a few strategic strands left free to fall to frame her face. Placing her friend gently back on the floor as the halfling's hair magically returns itself to perfection, she turns toward and happily greets the half-elven gentleman, "Sandros! 'Lenna told me you were coming." To all others, there's an obvious rough edge to the woman and she seems somewhat out of place in such finery.
Sandros Highmount enters the room with a broad smile on his face, examining the guests and the surroundings alike with pure delight. The pale-haired half-elf looks extremely dashing in his jacket, tunic and trousers, cut in a pseudo-military style as though it were the dress uniform of some far-off national militia; the bright red and deep forest green conform not to any known country's colors, though, but only to his own sense of style. A glittering sash crosses his chest and a large diamond earring sparkles below his left ear to complete the ensemble.
At the sight of Roylenna and Ka'kara before him, though, his smile becomes a shout of laughter. He sweeps both women into a hug even before Roylenna can get her feet completely underneath her. "Ka'kara! Royl! Ah, ladies, it has been too long!" He releases them quickly, aware of how Ka'kara can react when she feels liberties are being taken, but grins all the wider. "What a joy it is to see you both!"
Valgrim chuckles at Bubba's comment. "You're right my friend. I was a fool to worry. You should shine in this arena!" He motions over to the crowd of beautiful people. "Vug, I'd never thought it lassie, to see you in a dress! Wonders will never cease!" Valgrim laughs loudly.
"Well Valgrim, while you were practicing swinging your axe around, or whatever it is you do in your spare time, I was busy mastering the f-finer points of f-fashion and etiquette. It wasn't very hard either, not surprisingly. By the way, you all look very dashing tonight!"
Valgrim smiles at the compliment. "And here I thought, you just studied your chemicals into all hours of the night. You are a surprising elf, I must say, Vug. Everyone looks dashing tonight, though some people, like me, feel out of place among such riches." Valgrim nods to the female human warrior. "How much longer before the ale starts flowin'? And they'd better have the good dwarven stuff!"
Vulcan sweeps into the room, his presence drawing every eye as he passes. Dressed in Stylized robes adorned with a storm motif over black leather breeches and elegant knee length boots, his stunningly handsome features and electric blue eyes peer out from under the robe's hood.
Pretending to be miffed, Roylenna floats back up to a more human height as soon as she is released, only to be grabbed by the half-elf she sought. Now laughing, she hugs both of them back.
Released, she draws forth a mirror. With a word, it floats out of her hand to allow her to see as she touches up her towering hair.
"Yes, it was necessary. It is absolutely stunning. And you! Sandros! I was not sure we would ever see you again. In person, anyway." She gives a little smile at that. "It is good to see you safe in the flesh. With Ka'kara around, I'm always safe. Oh, and my ancestors have gifted me with a surprise or two since we parted, so I can keep her safe, too."
"The gentleman over there, the one with the confident attitude and the clear voice, do you remember him from somewhere?"
Bubba bows his head to Vug's ingenuity.
"Excellent. I'm sure he has access to any item, particularly magic, we might try to present to him, but these are literally unique and might pique his interest."
Whispering to Valgrim, "Oh, yes. Lord Malaven Kilraven, Captain of the Watch. Honest man and he predates Midas' reign."
About 20 minutes later, Lord Sessestophelzine, aka Midas, himself arrives amid great fanfare with his fool, the Ominous Fabler.
Midas is a middle-aged man with shoulderlong hair and a short beard. He is dressed as a wizard, but in accordance with the latest fashion (if in rather poor taste). He seems to be in a rather glum mood.
The Ominous Fabler looks like a sinister little man who stands only two-and-a-half feet high. He constantly clutches a mummified raven to his chest and always looks nervous. He’s dressed in crimson leather armor and wears a strange, three pointed but floppy hat wrapped in black and white ribbons and studded with gems.
Flanked by his deformed servants, Midas stands quietly while his fool steps forth, clutching his mummified raven, and blows on a strange horn to attract everyone’s attention (a needless move, since by this point everyone’s attention is already focused on the wizard). The Ominous Fabler clears his throat, and then speaks in a surprisingly strong and deep voice.
"My lords, ladies, and other honored guests! Lord Sessestophelzine bids you welcome, and I trust you will enjoy the hospitality of his humble home!" The strange little man looks around, leers at some of the guests, then flaps his free arm and lifts the mummified raven up on his shoulder. Using the dead bird as a ventriloquist’s dummy, he chirps out in a raspy voice: "You may now present your gifts to honor the prince!" and then steps back, giggling quietly as the other guests reach into folds in cloaks and pockets.
Whispering to Valgrim, "Oh, yes. Lord Malaven Kilraven, Captain of the Watch. Honest man and he predates Midas' reign."
Valgrim whispers back, "An honest man? Really? In these parts? We'll, and by that I mean you, definitely have get to know him. Never know when we need an ally."
After the Fabler speaks, Valgrim smiles at Bubba, "You're up! I have complete faith in you."
Ka'kara looks nervously down at her halfling sister feeling ever more out of her depth, "Was I supposed to bring something? Did you bring anything?"
Frowning, the tiny woman floats back up to eye level with the barbarian princess. "Nobody told me about gifts. I got an invitation for the two of us by name saying where to be and to wear the finest we could find."
But with a sly smile, she adds, "But a little bird told me that a function of this type might require a little something." She shakes her left hand, drawing attention to a silver bracelet with two tiny charms. "Remember this?"
When it is their turn to present their gift, Roylenna sinks down to the ground and works a little magic to turn the full-length (for a human) skirt into grass-skimming length for her tiny frame. Taking the much taller woman's hand in hers, she pulls her forward. When they reach a respectful distance, she tugs down on Ka'kara's hand as she curtsies to the guest of honor. "Thank you for the wonderful party, Lord Sessestophelzine, and the invitation to attend. It was quite unexpected for both of us. I am Roylenna Brenoien and my sister-friend is Ka'kara Furyheart. We are travelers blessed with lives of excitement, but I fear our wealth is limited. What we earn is often quickly used to heal the injured, repair the broken, or aid the afflicted. Truly, our gifts are usually limited to tales of the roads we've seen, shared around a campfire." Looking around, she adds, "That hardly seems appropriate in the current company. I am sure that one as powerful as yourself can afford to have made anything we might possess, but I hope you will accept this small token of our gratitude."
She slips a charm bracelet from her left wrist. The silver chain is adorned by two pair of charms, silver and diamond. Cupping it in both hands, she rises just high enough to comfortably hand it to the mage (or whoever is receiving it) without him having to stoop to reach it. "The gemstones are of no consequence. I merely added them because it looked like it was missing something with only two tiny charms.
"We met a man in a black cloak at a roadhouse once where we swapped tales as we enjoyed the local beverages. Actually, Ka'kara drank him under the table and we asked the innkeeper to put him up in a room for the night. In the morning, he was gone and the innkeep said the man has stormed out just before dawn in a rage. After breaking our fast, we took our leave of the village, only to be accosted by our erstwhile drinking partner. He stepped out onto the trail before us and commanded that we surrender to him. Ka'kara laughed and asked if he was still drunk. In a fit, he grabbed the first charm on this bracelet and called out a name in Abyssal. A foul denizen of the lower planes appeared and attacked. My sister engaged the demon in combat, singing the songs of her forefathers, while I attempted to disable the man with my magic, hurting him badly. He called forth another ally, a black-helmed warrior with an emblem of an ancient realm bearing a giant axe, and drew a rapier dripping with viscous fluid. As Ka'kara cut down the demon, I called down a fiery smite on the man and his undead cohort. The flames staggered them long enough for my sister to bring her sword to bear on the black knight. With his blade in his hand, he was unable to call on the magic of the bracelet again before we closed to attack. In the resulting melee, he scratched himself - only a nick, really - with the sword while trying to slip past Ka'kara's guard. The effect was instantaneous - his eyes rolled up in his head and his breath began to rattle in his throat. With his last words, he called down a curse upon the two of us. We never found out who he was or why he hated us so. Or how one so inept came to carry such a powerful item as this bracelet. My magical investigations showed that the other two charms were tied to equally loathsome fiends as the first two, so I removed the links thinking to tie them to friends of my own.
"Please accept this token of our esteem. I have keyed the charms to Ka'kara and myself, but you can easily change them to someone more to your liking." She points, "I'm the little one, naturally."
She carefully avoids meeting the barbarian woman's eyes - I knew I forgot something. I was going to warn her about that last part.
Under his breath, "Harumph. Amateurs. Anyone could see through that. Didn't you see through that?" To polite to roll his eyes, the bard just sighs quietly.
Friar smiles. He thought the tiny woman's story was pretty good. It was great to have have Bubba at the party's side. It was like having an insider reveal another magician's tricks, as they were done. Friar touches Bubba's shoulder, "When it is your turn to speak, my friend, Sarenrae's glory will be upon you."
Her look changes to one of relief as Roylenna produces her gift and begins relating her tale. The tattooed woman's gaze settles on the charm braclet with a frown as she tries to recall where the halfling picked it up. Bits and pieces of the story sounded familiar but her memory of events was hazy. She tended to not dwell on the past but look to the next battle. Anything worth remembering was etched in ink across her skin. After the story wraps up Ka'kara looks around almost defiantly, as if daring anyone to question her little sisters words. Wait?... What?... Charm keyed to me? as she tries to no avail to meet Roylenna's eyes with her own questioning look.
The Ominous Fabler rolls his eyes at Roylenna's blatant lie, but Midas doesn't seem to notice. He accepts the gift in good grace and even manages a half-smile. "Just like one of mine", he muses. "Oh, I remember when I made one of these and linked it to a Nalfeeshne. And then the demon tried to summon more of its ilk and wound up with an adventurer instead. Priceless!"
There is polite laughter, and the Fabler's eyes shoot daggers at Roylenna but he waves the next guest to come forth with their gifts.
Very pleased with their host's response, Roylenna dimples and curtsies before dragging a slightly befuddled barbarian back into the crowd.
Friar invokes Sarenrae's blessing and whispers to Valgrim, "I need your championship belt."
Friar clears his throat and approaches the Fabler. He takes the floor, bows before the Lord, and points to his companions. "Lord Sessestophelzine, my companions and I are but humble adventuring companions and I am sure that we cannot hope to outmatch the rest of your honored guests here tonight with lavish displays of wealth, such as gold, jewelry, gems....gifts which must be humdrum for a person of your class and prestige, as evident by the opulence of this celebration. However, we offer you something no one else can, something lords and monarchs throughout the times have always striven for but few ever reached: to be remembered for some accomplishment, to have one's accomplishments etched in the minds of their subjects forever. Namely, to be the first person ever to do something. To this end, Lord Midas, we give you the Champion's Belt won this very year at the Games in the City State!" Friar presents it to the Fabler. "Despite the decades of competition at the annual Games, there is only one Belt, worn by that year's Champion and we present that honor to you, marking the first time in history that the Belt has been worn by a sitting ruler. You have made history, m' Lord!"
Friar bows, leads the crowd in a clap for the Lord and awaits Midas' reaction.
"We would love the opportunity to regale you and the guests with tales of some of the fights that led to this victory as the evening progresses, of course!"
Midas looks dumbstruck as he sits holding the belt, and looks at you with something approaching gratitude. You must have struck a chord somehow. The Fabler however motions for the procession to go on. The gifts from the other guests include jewelry, bottles of rare wine, exotic caged animals, and even a fiendish horse outfitted with horseshoes of a zephyr.
The last gift is from Merchantmaster Mahuudril, an exotic and mysterious human woman in her late fifties with a thin face that has aged well. She wears her shocking red hair in braids woven around an elaborate headdress. Her clothes are rich and royal, and she wears too much jewelry. Her expression is mischievous and sneaky, a young grandmother who’s plotting the best way to sneak some candy to a grandchild.
Soon after everybody has presented their gifts servants appear with padded chairs for each guest and beg you to be seated. The fool appears again and blows his strange horn. “My masters! We beg you to enjoy our little tale—‘tis a small thing I penned myself, a tale of menace, revenge, lust and death which I have called ‘The Harlequinade Mortificatio.’” The fool moves back, and as he does, the servants arrange a small stage with a backdrop of a town street at night. A wooden moon wafts over the scene, and suddenly a host of animated skeletons dressed as clowns march on stage.
The play is performed in silence, apart from guests applauding as the skeletal clowns perform particularly ridiculous stunts, such as drinking wine. The entire play is a curious affair, and it soon becomes obvious that the whole plot recounts how each of the skeletons is acting out its own death, always by suspicious circumstances that aren’t quite accidents.
During the play (which lasts for an hour), servants flutter about with wine and trays of lightly roasted almond biscuits of exquisite taste. At the play’s end, the curious actors bow and everyone applauds. The Ominous Fabler appears, now dressed as a scarecrow on stilts and with a hare’s skull where his head should be. He leads guests across the grounds to the next event, singing a song about boiling sparrows as he goes.
Valgrim obviously would have gladly given up the Belt for that story! He congratulates Friar on his tale and pats him on the back.
Later, as he watches the macabre play and hears the tales, he gets a strong vibe that he doesn't belong here. He looks around to see if there are any dwarves other than him present. He won't go near duergar however.
Bublaka studies the staging of the play from a professional point of view. He doesn't think much of it, but hopes to get the measure of its writer through his work.
The halfling floats up to conversational height, but doesn't bother with the long skirt anymore - apparently, people didn't think much of her little joke. She works her way around until she is near the Merchantmaster Mahuudril. "Oh, I wanted to tell you that I love what you did with your hair! I'm afraid I'm quite taken by elaborate hairstyles. Did you do this grand work yourself?"
Sandros, painfully aware that he had no gift to offer, had allowed himself to drift to the back of the room during the presentations, although he was pleased enough to watch Roylenna's offering (and Ka'kara's reaction to it). When the time came for the play, he took a seat toward the back, clearly unthrilled by the "theater of the macabre," especially as it involved the walking dead. He does not applaud at the play's end.
Afterward, though, he begins moving around the room, focusing in particular on any of the younger ladies who might be present. In contrast to what one might expect, he is particularly keen to speak with any such women who might be getting overlooked in the shadow of a friend or sibling who is getting more of the spotlight.
The barbarianess stifles, none to well, several yawns during the play. Where's the battle?! Although she was relieved just to be sitting because these @&!*@% heels were so hard to balance in that it was a miracle she was upright after each and ever single step, How could anyone ever do anything useful in one of these get-ups, let alone fight? She was beginning to regret more than ever making that bet with her little sister...
Vulcan makes his way over to the stunning amazon who clearly seems less than amused with the proceedings. "You look as though you've had just about enough of this." he says in a conspiratorial tone.
Vug turns to the Fabler and says: "Well well, my f-fine f-fabling f-fellow, where is this f-famous Miss Lashonna I've heard so much about? Has she graced us with her presence yet?"
The fool sneers at Vug. "Do you see her anywhere? She comes when it suits her, as your kind are wont, elf." Then he turns abruptly on his heel and ushers the guest out onto the balcony.
Eventually the guests arrive at the Balcony of Expectorance, a wide deck jutting from the cliffside about twenty feet down from the palace. The Balcony is sheltered from the wind and the view of the coastline is even more magnificent than that from the Vertiginous Terrace.
Among the guests you notice a woman of peculiar appearance. With piercing blue eyes she is a a strange combination of the beautiful and the grotesque. Her beauty is marred by two unfortunate physical deformities. First, her face is misaligned; the right half of her face is about a half inch above the left, giving her nose an ugly twist and her mouth a perpetual upturned sneer. Second, her back is hunched with malformed wings; broken feathers protrude here and here from these mockeries, and she tries to cover them with a fine cloak but isn’t always successful. Her expression is one of bitter cruelty.
The fool trundles up onto the balcony railing, somehow managing to balance there on stilts as he addresses the guests. “ And now, welcome to the Balcony of Expectorance, my friends, and the Handsome Slaughter of Curious Avians!” Two deformed servants march out, carrying between them a large rack of repeating crossbows. Another group of guests wheel out a number of cages filled with brightly colored red birds. “Please, select your weapon, and make ready to...” Midas cuts him off with a dismissive slap as he steps forward. The fool teeters, but manages to catch his balance and clambers down from the ledge as the wizard selects a magnificent-looking crossbow and says, “I’m feeling particularly lucky today. If anyone can bring down more than me, I’ll give the lucky soul a thousand gold coins.”
Midas goes first and manages to down four birds. Then it's your turn.
She turns with slight irritation at having once again to try not to embarrass Roylenna and make small talk when her eyes meet the sorcerer's captivating blue ones, "Wha...uh...who are you?" Her almost combative tone and stance relaxes as her surprise has a moment to wear off. She self consciously attempts to brush a wayward strand of hair back into place and before he can answer, "Is it that obvious?" She immediately looks chagrined at having admitted to being bored, stupid, stupid, stupid...
...Having arrived at the balcony Ka'kara is initially delighted at the sight of the birds, "Ohhh, we have corollaxes back home. They are beautiful and defend themselves with a stunning magic display of color. We, as children, would watch them try and outdo one another to attract a mate with their displays during the spring." As Midas shoots the birds her demeanor noticeably chills and she asks Vulcan, "Does he plan to eat them?" There is apparently only one right answer to her question...
Vug examines one of the crossbows. "What a delightfully curious weapon! I suppose I'll take a try." First she takes a sip of her mutagen and an extract of Heroism to steady her aim.
With mwk xbow + nonproficiency + Rapid Shot + Heroism:
"Your majesty has outshot me; I bow to your greater skill!"