Its getting late, we'll be needing rest too... Thanks for indulging us! Eirnar says, ready to leave.
Nodding to the others, Kaldwell cut a lock of hair and put it by the barrier as asked. "Then we shall call upon you before we head home. Thank you for the chance to speak, and agreeing to deal with us after the confusion from before."
The group heads off a short ways to find their own place to make camp for the night. Lokhir once more takes his two-hour nap as the rest of the group takes watch and prepares food. Once that is over, rolls are switched as Lokhir stands watch and the remainder of the group sleeps. The nights are now almost pitch black, the light of the stars doing little to help illuminate the area with the almost eerie absence of the moon. Still, it's probably a better option than being eaten by undead in your sleep. In the morning, everyone packs up their things and goes through their daily preparation.
The group spends most of the day heading west as the phantom chariot carefully winds its way through the trees and underbrush that clearly did not have have such a large, cumbersome thing in mind when they decided to grow as they did. Still eventually you all reach a clearing, the center of which is the Sanguine Playhouse. The building looks to be about two-stories tall and has clearly seen better days. The paint is faded and cracked, the wooden moldings near the bottom have been overtaken with moss, and the mouth of the smiling face mask on the front now seems to be sporting a bird's nest in it.
There are a few simple stone steps that lead up to three doors, all of which clearly open to the same room.
Eirnar laments, I miss the stars of Golarion, and indeed, even the stars here. Shortly later, he gets to rest.
As they arrive, Eirnar casts a few wards on himself, should they find trouble within. Eirnar says cheerfully, Sanguine. Hopeful. Plus—point of interest—it also means bloody.
"With what we have seen, I suppose we should expect the more violent connotation to play out." Unless someone else had another idea, Kaldwell moved towards the door and knocked on the centre one before checking it for the usual traps and attempting to open it. He didn't want his new body scarred by a trap quite yet.
Kaldwell does not find any traps but can hear the faint sound of music coming from the other side of the door. Opening the door, the music becomes much more clear: it's a lively jig being played by a fiddle floating above the head of what appears to be a tiny Elvan man with the legs of a grasshopper. He seems to be grumbling under his breath as every once in a while he jumps up in an attempt to grab the floating instrument. But as if to mock him, the fiddle simply dances a little higher out of reach.
Looking around, the room appears to be a lobby, nearly every surface of which is covered by a threadbare and faded red velvet carpet. A cracked mural on the ceiling depicts debauched acts between satyrs and all manner of mortal women. Two sets of double doors to the north lead into a massive chamber, and between them golden bars protect a ticket office. Smaller doors occupy the eastern and western walls.
"Huh."
Yattle drifts above the fiddle, watching to see if it tries to float further away from them. "Need a hand?"
Lokhir nodded. ”And if I may ask, why does this fiddle seem to be so determined to vex you? Knowing may make the task all the simpler.”
Kaldwell nodded as Yattle offered to help. It would be simple to approach the thing from above for the Kineticist.
The fiddle did indeed dodge away from Yattle as they approached, its tune becoming all the more upbeat and joyful as it finds itself with an audience.
The small half-elf, half-bug man blushes and begins wringing his hands. "Oh dear, I'm ever so sorry! The damnable thing got away from me yet again. I swear, it plays itself even better I can, the attention-whore! Oh dear oh dear, at this rate, how ever will I keep my position as the musical director?"
Yattle grins as the fiddle dodges away, flitting about in time with the merry toon, as they try to spiral close enough to grab...
"Catchy tune. Let's see if Yattle can return it." Lokhir said, his foot tapping along with the music.
"My, that's a catchy tune...." Delroy says as he starts to shuffle his feet and clap in time.
"It's not a bad song, no," Kaldwell agreed. "Do you have problems with the instruments like this often?"
Indeed, that is catchy... I don't think I've ever seen Delroy dance...
Yattle is able to catch up to the flying instrument as it zips about the room.
Meanwhile the small man moves closer to Delroy, peering at the half-orcs feet. He giggles. "My, you're not much of a dancer are you? No doubt my fiddle is enjoying making the fool of you. It does ever so love being the center of attention."
Yattle dims their flames and tries like crazy to grab on!
"Wait, making a fool?" Kaldwell glanced over at this dancing compatriot. "I haven't felt the urge to dance in years. I assumed it was just the new body. Can you stop dancing, Delroy?"
Delroy slaps his knee as he shuffles his feet.
"Why would I want to stop dancing?" Delroy asks.
"It has a good beat!"
As everybody watches, Yattle zips through the air, keeping pace with the fiddle. Just as they're closing in and attempting to grab it, the elven grasshopper man mumbles something about needing to talk to the director and exits through one of the sets of double doors. With a mighty lunge, they manage to grab the instrument and stop its playing, though they can feel it straining against them. No doubt if they were to release their hold on the instrument, it would resume its playing.
"That little thief stole my whiskey!" Delroy roars.
"After him!"
He gives chase.
Good men have died for less...
Eirnar sighs. It was quite enjoyable watching Delroy dance, but now his tune has turned much more familar. He follows his allies, hoping if this is a trap, he'll be able to bail Delroy out of it.
Kaldwell's jaw dropped as Delroy took off after the booze thief. After a moment, he clacked his jaw together and looked at Yattle. "Are you able to pursue or are you busy with the instrument?" He wasn't sure leaving the Kineticist was a wise move, although most things briefly regretted offending them. Very briefly.
As Lokhir and Yattle try to decide what to do with the fiddle, Delroy, Eirnar, and Kaldwell rush into the next room after the booze thief. The bulging auditorium on the other side of the doors offers an excellent view of the stage to the north from any of its dozens of seats. The open space offers ceilings an incredible 80 feet high, but stands remarkably empty. Dust and cobwebs cling to everything. A half-dozen waxy and glassy-eyed bodies lie in the northwest corner like discarded props. In the northeast corner, the elven grasshopper man can be see crouching, hurriedly unscrewing the cap to the flask.
The sudden flurry of activity seems to have garnered the attention of a strikingly handsome Varisian man, who hurries up to the trio. Dangling in front of him is a marionette, painted to look like a blonde version of the puppeteer. Instead of talking to them though, the man moves the puppet to address the newcomers. "Ahh, most excellent timing!" The man and puppet walk around the trio, the puppet's head pointedly looking them up and down. "You, my good sir!" The puppet points to the scarred, one-eyed Delroy. "You would do perfectly as the new co-star of my latest play: Cymbeline Taming Pericles the Merchant In the Tempest of Love As Much As You Like It For Nothing. How would you like to play Pericles, love interest to the beautiful Cymbeline played by the one, the only, the great Eliara! What am I saying? Of course you'd be honored! I must see you on stage immediately!" The puppet begins pushing Delroy towards the stage. However, it being a construct controlled by strings, this is not very effective.
"I'm hear to kick-@ss and drink whiskey, and somebody just stole my whiskey!" Delroy roars at the puppet.
Getting a hold of his senses Lokhir took pursuit. Coming up behind Delroy he came to a halt and put a hand on the warrior’s shoulder. [b]”Calm down...let’s not get violent until it is needed. Remember what that music could do.”[/b[
Seeing that he wasn't doing a very good job pushing Delroy, the puppet jumped up and slapped his puppeteer. "Balio, you idiot! Don't just stand there gaping. You're the muscle, so do something."
Balio hung his head in shame as he grabbed Delroy's arm and started ushering him towards the stage.
Meanwhile, alone with the instrument, Yattle notices the fiddle start to vibrate, almost seeming to whine pathetically.
"Where's that grasshopper got too?" Delroy asks in a loud voice.
Yattle keeps the bow far from the strings of their new fiddle and flits after the rest of the crew.
"Seems like a trap, but hey, maybe they mean muscle in the other way?" Yattle deadpans.
”The logical part of me says stop this. But when else can we see Delroy on stage? Perhaps he will make for an excellent bard.” Lokhir said, watching the scene with curiosity.
all men die, at least have some fun along the way
Eirnar watches, keen to see how this develops.
Shaking his head, Kaldwell just tried to spot any danger that was likely to see Delroy hurt.
Balio drags Delroy to the middle of the stage as the puppet looked expectantly up at him. "Well, come on then. Give us a speech or sing a song or something! Show us your now doubt magnificent prowess!"
In the corner of the room, the elven grasshopper man had gotten Delroy's flask open and was drinking for it. In the other corner of the room was a pile of bodies that seemed suspicious, but no obvious signs of a threat were in sight.
Delory takes a moment to study the puppet (Swift action studied target)
He grabs the puppet's arms and tangles the strings directing it.
Then he leaps from the stage and runs straight at the grasshopper drinking his whiskey.
Kaldwell kept one eye on the 'bodies'. Perhaps they were more dolls. Or perhaps they were other victims. Either way, if they rose to attack Kadlwell would try to block them.
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The little puppet gasped as Delroy started to make a move towards him, backing off slightly. "Treachery! Fiend! Vagabond! How dare you!" As it screeches, the sound of thunder can be heard and the room grows dark. There's a flash of lightning that temporarily blinds everyone. When your eyes clear, the room you had been standing in has disappeared, replaced by an outdoor night scene. Freezing rain pelts down, instantly soaking everybody and cascading over the stone dais beneath your feet. Both the puppeteer and the thief seem to have vanished, replaced by dozens of shadowy figures standing in the distance, launching and mocking. Meanwhile, eight shadowy figures draw close with ravenous eyes.
Yattle sends a flare of light streaking towards the largest clump of shadowy figures, hoping to see them more clearly for what they are.
As Yattle lit the situation up, Kaldwell attempted to identify the income apparitions and see what they might be suspetible too. His muscles still ached, and his body still felt wrong, but he tried to flow into his usual fighting stance and prepare himself.
This is decidedly less fun, but at least it's more fitting Eirnar surmises as attempts to figure out how the creatures tricked him...
"Well bugger all." Lokhir said, as he tried to figure out what these creatures might be.
Through the heavy downpour, Kaldwell and Eirnar aren't able to make out any of the figures in cloaks, now starting to advance towards the group with a variety of weapons. Lokhir, however, is able to recognize the nearest hooded figure as Radiant Sunrise, to couatl the group had encountered earlier, no longer absorbed in her grief and with a deadly look in her eyes as she bared her fangs.
Seeing that this was likely going to end poorly, Lokhir immediately began chanting the words of power needed to enchant his blade.
Eirnar tugs on the Radiant Sunrise's fate thread, calling on his ancestors to slow down its deadly assault.
Eirnar makes an inspiring prediction, Those fangs are deadly, but you'll live! Well, One turned into a half-orc last time... still counts!
Lokhir: 26
Eirnar: 24
Balio/Balimar: 21
Yattle: 20
Cockatrices: 16
Delroy Grimm: 15
Kaldwell: 13
Eliara: 6
1 fireball used
Vulnerabilities: None
Immunities: None
Special Attacks: Constrict (1d8+7)
Lokhir changed his weapon into a bane native outsider shocking weapon as Eirnar cursed Radiant Sunrises's fate, though it didn't seem quite as effective as he would have liked. The group of eight then began to close in on the group, starting off with an explosion of fire for the four clustered together and completely incinerating the fiddle.
Not to be left out, the cultist nearest Delroy rushed forward, slamming into the half-orc.
The puppet (Balimar) is a soul bound doll summoner while the puppeteer is his eidolon.
- Special Attacks: None
- Special Defenses: None
- Special Abilities: Strings(Ex)- Balimar and Balio spent millennia bound together by puppet strings. They cannot move more the 5ft away from one another, but may occupy the same square without penalty.
The puppeteer (Balio) is actually an extraplanar outsider eidolon.
- Special Attacks: None
- Special Defenses: Evasion
- Special Abilities: None
- SLA: None
Lokhir easily sidestepped most of the damage, and in one fluid motion had his blade arcing towards the neck of the nearest foe. "Don't let them grab you!" He called out, as his blade hit home.
Eirnar ends of his lifelink upon on all allies, being unable to take more hits like that. Eirnar attempts to ward himself from the fires and casts communal resist energy fire upon his allies except for Delroy, saying," Tricks and more tricks, but they will not avail you! Don't trust your eyes; focus on what is beyond the illusions, real! Engage the puppet. It is a soul bound doll summoner while the puppeteer is his eidolon. "
Kaldwell's newer, more agile form moved out of the way of the blast. "Illusions?" he called back Eirnar with a dubious tone. "That fire felt quite real!"
Still, the Shaman usually knew about such things better than he did. Kaldwell simply kicked the one nearest, drawing his swords as he did. He'd rather feel the blow directly and judge how substantial it seemed.
Eirnar attempts to protect the allies near him from fire and both Lokhir and Kaldwell land mighty blows on their respective opponents, though neither manages to fell their foe. Lokhir then activates his tattoo, making it a little easier to see what's going on.