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It has been a hot summer day in the hinterlands of Magnimar. The sun has reached its peak by mid-afternoon as you all approach the Umora carnival on the back of a hired rickety wagon. It is clear that the carnival is popular as you have passed festival-goers in both directions on your journey, and Magnimar was inundated with flyers describing all the excitement you could enjoy.
You have been travelling for an hour from Magnimar's main gate by the time you reach the carnival; you could hear the captivating sounds of joy and merriment for some distance before you could see the spectacle itself.
As your wagon pulls up to the edge of the carnival, you see an array of mismatched tents with many festival-goers and vendors weaving between them. A large wooden arch covered in foliage, blooms and streamers stands as an entrance before you leading into the festival.
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A few days previously, Lydia had awoken from one of those dreams. She had experienced dreams like this before and it was clear that this was a vision from her Goddess asking her to help another.
The dream showed a tall dark-haired man wearing spectacles searching for something. In the dream, someone calls his name, Meloigne Garracy, and he turns, laughs at something and then carries on. He heads towards a lop-sided colourful tent with a hand-painted sign "All-Seeing Hajek - find your fortune here" and then steps in. You cannot see inside the tent and the dream darkens. You get a clear feeling this man may be trapped or in danger and he does not re-appear from the tent. The dream was not very clear on the finer details, but these dreams never were - all you could tell was that this Meloigne Garracy may need your help, and the Goddess has chosen you. You decided that you could not do this alone (Alainn does not necessarily factor into this equation for back-up) and you contacted an acquaintance who could be a valuable asset who sits aside you now.
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You all step out of the rickety wagon and a couple of others approach it to hire the ride back to Magnimar and it turns away leaving you at the entrance to the colourful carnival.
Lydia looks around as she steps out of the wagon, her stern gaze sweeping over the carnival's attractions. This was not her typical scene, but when the Song in the Spheres grants one a dream vision, one does not ignore it.
The half-elf glances at her companions. "We're looking for a fortune-teller named All-Seeing Hajek. In my vision, Garracy disappeared inside that tent. Keep your eyes peeled for danger. Let's go."
"Hi, I'm Alainn!" The odd, winged seedling says as Sercha clambers onto the wagon. "You look interesting! Do you have any stories to tell? I'd say you're... a silent assassin. Or maybe a thief with a heart of gold? Shall I read your fortune? I can learn lots about you from the cards!" It produces a lovely harrow deck, seemingly crafted from thin slivers of wood and starts shuffling them with remarkable dexterity.
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In contrast to Lydia, Alainn seems entranced by the circus and its clothes soon change to match the colorful garbs, embroidered handkerchiefs and finely decorated skirts. It's wings don't quite match but the gathlain doesn't seem to care a bit and soon flags down a passing circus member, speaking in the perfect varisian accent of the caravan.
"Eh boyo, ye seen All-Seein 'Ajek aroond?"
Without batting an eyelid at Alainn, who fits right in, the circus member replies "Aye, glance o'er tha' tent just beyond that far ring lass. Right labelled it is"
He gestures down the main alleyway of tents selling all sorts of wares and goods with magicians, musicians and dancers interweaving with the crowds towards, what looks like an opening or make-shift performance area.
Lydia nods in thanks to the carnival worker and leads the group down the alleyway.
Sercha looks down at the curious creature through crystal-covered eyes and then glances over at Lydia. "Neither a thief, nor an assassin," she finally replies. "Just a ... friend, that is helping a friend. No need to read m' fortune. How did you meet Lydia?"
~~~~~
The pale woman follows behind Lydia and her companion, trying to understand the dynamic. She wears a clean chain shirt over her tunic and a shield on her back, but carries no weapon.
Making your way through the tents and stalls both Lydia and Sercha are mostly left alone, in comparison to the other festival-goers whose attention is constantly demanded. Many of the sellers and performers appear to skirt around you as if a little wary of your aura of business and seriousness.
Alainn, on the other hand, has many a smile, wave and friendly gesture aimed at them in her own performers ware.
Arriving at the performer's ring, there is currently a large crowd gathered watching a graceful acrobat performing with a pair of horses, weaving his way over and under their legs whilst they canter around in circles.
When Sercha mentions that she's "just a friend," Lydia glances at the fetchling. Their eyes meet for a brief moment before the half-elf grimaces slightly and quickly looks away.
***
Lydia spares the crowd a glance before focusing on the object of her search. "There it is," she says quietly, waiting for the flash of hazy memories to pass. Then she strides purposefully into the tent.
Alainn darts in first, nearly tripping Lydia on the way, with a cheerful "wotcher' guv'nor!"
Entering the tent, the overwhelming smell of burning incense hits you and you see a woman hidden behind many layers of veils and beads sitting at across a table on a comfortable chair. You cannot see any details of her face through the layers of translucent material, but you can hear her voice clearly as the sounds of the carnival have dull when you step inside the heavy layers of tent fabric.
"More brave wanderers here to find their fortune" she says in a delicately and gestures calmly at the four seats laid out in front of her. "Please, do sit and I will let you know your fate.
In front of her on the table, lies a beautifully decorated pack of fortune-tellers cards and she waits for you to take your seats.
"Would you like a little tea?"
Sercha glances at Lydia before taking a seat in the chair furthest on the left.
"Yes, please," she answers.
Lydia studies the fortune teller, peering at her auras.
"None for me, thank you. We are here on an important mission from Desna herself. We seek a man by the name of Meloigne Garracy. He has gone missing, and we have reason to believe he was last seen here. You wouldn't happen to know anything about him, would you?"
Pouring 4 cups of tea, ignoring anyone who declines she hums softly to herself before answering. Her softly-spoken stage-managed voice drops for a rather more curious tone and looks around at all three visitors.
"A sage of such name did visit me recently seeking information from me about a vast library gathered by a Varisian woman named Sonnorae. I helped send Sir Meloigne to Sonnorae so he could continue his search. Would you like me to aid you to find him?"
Lydia nods. "Yes, that would be most helpful. We would appreciate any aid you could lend us in locating Sir Meloigne."
Sercha frowns slightly.
'Why would she ask our permission to aid us? Unless her aid is different than what we would expect.'
She opens her mouth to question what the woman's aid would entail, but Lydia is even quicker with her agreement and the fetchling's mouth snaps back shut and she rolls her eyes.
"Lydia rescued me from slavers!" Alainn proclaims, falling onto the cart and placing a hand to its forehead in a swoon. "It was so romantic! She strode out of the darkness, moonlight glinting on her sword! The slavers cowered in fear at the approach of her righteousness and all the slaves cried out that their liberator had come at last!" The entire monologue is delivered in theatrical tones with expressions of fear, devotion and awe as appropriate.
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"Now none of your trickery, luv'" Alainn responds, hopping into the middle chair and adopting a hefty frown. "I ain't no green-lad from the country. None of your guardo tricks gonna fool me!" They seem to have adopted a new persona for this particular reading... a slightly ironic one given that much of Alainn's skin when not disguised is, in fact, green.
Interestingly Sercha can see that Alainn is, under the table, shuffling their own card deck. The card revealed shows, briefly, a curtained stage with a figure apparently singing. Alainn glances down, catches Sersha's eye and nods once.
"I can assure you young gentleman, I am not out to show you dishonesty. I am a mere fortune-teller and my will is bent by mysteries of the Harrow."
She takes a sip of her own tea and looks back at Lydia who had seemed more agreeable.
"I sent this sage to the place they most desired with the aid of my wonderful Harrow cards" She picks them up and flicks through them with clear skill. "I sent him to a place of incredible knowledge and riches, but alas I do not have the power to return him. I can send you to this place so that you can continue your search."
"If that is agreeable with yourselves of course?" she adds, glancing towards Alainn who was more outspoken.
"Oh," is Sercha's short response. She glances at Lydia again before looking back at the green-skinned fey. "So you and she are together now. I understand." She redirects her gaze out towards the terrain they roll past.
~~~~
"Why not? Lydia's already said 'Yes' and it wouldn't be the first time that she's done something without thinking through the consequences. Send us there."
"Oh," is Sercha's short response. She glances at Lydia again before looking back at the green-skinned fey. "So you and she are together now. I understand." She redirects her gaze out towards the terrain they roll past.
"Yes. I am her faithful companion. My life is hers and I will lay it down on her behalf, shield her from arrows at the cost of my own flesh until my debt is repaid!" Alainn replies, "I will follow her to the ends of the earth and give her whatever aid my poor frame might to aid her in her righteous quest!"
Lydia glances sharply back at Sercha. ”We are not together. Alainn insists on accompanying me, and I have thus far been unable to dissuade them from doing so.”
***
The inquisitor gives Sercha a slightly exasperated look before sighing. ”Yes. Send us to his location.”
Lydia glances sharply back at Sercha. ”We are not together. Alainn insists on accompanying me, and I have thus far been unable to dissuade them from doing so.”
"We're friends!" Alainn offers cheerily.
"Sure," Lydia says to mollify the fey.
Hajek nods at Sercha and Lydia's instruction and stands, murmuring whilst shuffling expertly through her Harrow cards.
The cards fly out of her hands and begin to circle, forming a swirling vortex opening up a window peering into another place in which you can see a circus, similar to the festival you are currently in, yet, something about it appears different.
You step through the window to this uncanny circus and as the last person steps through, the deck of cards fly through and lies at the last person's feet; the vortex closing with a snap behind them.
The first thing you notice is a frail and clumsy man cowering away into a table front from four strange bird-men dressed in ragged clown costumes looming over him. Their heads whip around as you appear, focusing on you with their cruel eyes.
Looming tents seem to reach greedily for the overcast sky before their tips curl back down in defeat. Faded paint peels from disused cages and wagons scattered about, while slow organ music drifts through the empty pathways. Nearby, a yawning entry leads into the dark interior of a twisted and massive central tent.
"What do we have here Groick?" The largest of the bird-men question "More playthings I think"another replies. The creatures all square their shoulders towards you.
As their surroundings shift, Lydia realizes they have been transported somewhere else. Teleportation, perhaps, or planar travel. She quickly assesses the situation and, as the birdmen advance menacingly, she draws her curve blade.
”We are not your playthings. You will stay back, or suffer the consequences!” The half-elf slices her sword through the air in a dazzling display.
Alainn bounds through right behind Lydia, as is appropriate for the Devoted Sidekick, and gapes in unconcealed amazement at the rather dilapidated tents. It's wings flex out to their full eight foot width and Alainn takes off, flapping upwards towards the tents before the bird-things speaking down below distracts them and Lydia draws her blade.
"Playthings?" The gathlain calls, "No. They are the Heroes and I am their Devoted Sidekick! What are you?"
Sercha steps to Lydia's left and pulls her shield down onto her right arm. She gestures in the air with her other hand and a longsword of pure shadowstuff materializes into existence. A moment later and blue flames appear along the length of it.
The bird-men look taken aback and visibly shaken at the sudden show of Lydia's ferocity, Alainn's impressive wing-span and Sercha's shadowy flaming blade they are facing all at once.
"We....we must get them" stammers the apparent leader "He would never forgive us if we didn't"
He takes an uneasy step forward.
From behind him, you hear a weak voice: "Please....help me!"
"Fight well heroes!" Alainn calls, "Righteousness is with us!"
Sercha gives a quick nod to Lydia. It's clear that this isn't the first time that they've drawn blood together.
She advances into a slightly dangerous position to give the half-elf the advantage and slashes at one of the tengu with her flaming blade.
Lydia nods back to Sercha and loops around to flank her target, delivering a brutal slice to the tengu’s neck!
Lydia and Sercha's clear experience fighting together was so effective that before the bird clown has a chance to flinch, it collapses to the floor in a pool of blood but then vanishes in front of your eyes leaving a pile of clothing behind.
One of the Tengus behind shrieks loudly at their fallen ally as they run forward to avenge Groick, ignoring the flying creature in the air and abandoning their previous prey.
Lydia dodges the attack from behind gracefully whilst simultaneously parrying the attack from the front with ease. Sercha side-steps the Tengu swinging wildly.
Alainn swoops easily over the melee and drops down to stand over the cowering figure. "Don't worry, we're here to rescue you!" The gathlain proclaims, making the man disappear with a touch.
With a parry and a twist, Lydia spins around and steps up to Sercha's side. "One on the left," she calls, her blade flashing as she attacks the chosen foe!
Sercha nods without looking at her companion. She moves past the bird, risking strikes from its weapon to arrive opposite Lydia.
The clown that had attacked Sercha vanishes after being swiftly slashed by Lydia, again clothes piling to a heap on the floor.
The clown, that had not quite realised the level of imminent danger he was in until Sercha stepped through the space his comrade was previously occupying, staggers and smoulders with unnatural flame.
"How could you!" exclaims the other Tengu as he leaps forward to slash Lydia with his shortsword and leaps back again.
Alainn, the weak disembodied voice next to you sounds both grateful and surprised; “My…oh…er…my rescuers! Just in … just in time.”
Sercha takes another step - putting Lydia in a position to easily move to flank - and continues to swing at the tengu.
Sercha's clear skill with the sword shows and she decapitates the bird, again vanishing.
The final Tengu clown starts backing away trying not to turn his back on the dangerous foes he faces.
"Please, don't hurt me, we was only wanting to be paid!" it chitters.
Alainn, you feel the man stirring next to you against your shoulder but hear a harumph as he clearly falls back again.
Alainn dismisses the fleeing tengu as an unimportant bit part and turns to the more interesting person.
"So what are you doing here? Those bird clowns don't seem like the most cheerful fellows to spend time with."
Alainn's eyes wander as their invisible interlocutor talks, flitting from sight to sight in wonder.
Lydia grimaces as she takes a few hits, but the last bird surrenders before she can attack again. Still, she keeps her sword leveled, its tip pointed towards his chest. ”Paid? Who is your master? What did you want with this captive? And where exactly are we?” she demands.
"And you'd better tell the truth because she can sniff out lies as well as a pig sniffs out truffles," Sercha adds as she lets her sword vanish and crosses her arms.
As the weak man reappears a few seconds later, you see he is much worse for wear with clear deliberate cuts and bruises all over him and he is trembling considerably.
"Thank you, thank you... you saved me" he mutters. He tries to focus his gaze upon Alainn but keeps losing his ability to focus or form coherent strands of thoughts or sentences. He looks on the brink of consciousness.
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The Tengu stumbles back a couple of steps. "Yessirs, paid for bringin oddities to the Ringmaster of the greatest circus in th' realm."
Curiously, he giggles as if he finds something funny.
"He collects interesting things like you three for the circus of course! We weren' tryin' to collect him!" He nods towards the Alainn and the man.
"He jus' mighta known something about stuff we wanted to know." The Tengu chuckles nervously again and starts glancing around trying to find an escape route, slowly taking a few more steps backwards.
”My friends and I will finish our business here. Then you will take us to the Ringmaster.” Lydia declares.
The inquisitor draws a wand and uses two charges to cure her wounds, then one charge on the injured man.
The Tengu takes the opportunity as Lydia turns away to leg it.
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As soon as Lydia uses her wand on the frail man he shakes his head as if shaking off cobwebs; he perks up and comes back to life. He bounces spryly up to his feet as if nothing had previously affected him.
"Biyo Venna, cook and culinary extraordinaire, at your service." He bows deeply at you all, ignoring the Tengu causing a commotion the other side of this tented clearing.
"My lords and ladies, what an honour it is to have you take your time to save me from my perilous fate. In payment, I will aim to answer any questions that you wish as you are wonderous travellers. Oh, but here, in the Midnight Circus, you should talk to Bernaditi, he's the one who runs this place, the Ringmaster. He'll be able to answer any and all of your questions."
He lowers his voice and looks around dramatically, checking for any interlopers.
"You really should know, you've been lured into the Harrowed Realm. Zassiron, the Patchwork Lord, lures people here in order to fulfil some nefarious plan but I don't know who or what. Oh, just a few days ago, a man appeared in this very spot and was whisked away to the Striding Fortress never to be seen again. Our theory is that Zassiron wants to become mortal." His sentence trails off into barely a whisper as if being mortal was a taboo subject. He quirks his head sideways looking closely at you all.
"Just like you three valiant heroes I suppose?"
"I myself luckily planned and executed an escape in a crate of apples, from my very own kitchen nonetheless, in order to get out of that fortress. I couldn't stay there knowing there were mortals in danger." He pauses. "Perhaps....no absolutely -You are the noble heroes of this story here to rescue this poor soul trapped in the fortress!" He exclaims.
"Oh if you do this thing, everyone, every denizen of the Realm will admire you and your tale shall be renowned. Stories will be weaved of your arrival and wherever you shall go, every heart shall rejoice, once fame has spread of your great and noble deeds! Oh, soon you shall herald mercy and freedom from the tyrannical Zassrion, and the clarions shall all spread word of your great victories! And then again, from the very top of the Striding Fortress you will rule wisely and justly, forever and one day it will be a golden age for the Realm!" He pauses his monologue for a split second thinking carefully.
"If you ever want to find the Fortress, you're going to have to find all nine of the Conspirators tokens from across the realm. They keep those tokens they stole from Sonnorae safe you see. They managed to steal everything but those powerful Harrow story cards which mysteriously vanished from this realm long ago."
"But then again, anything else that is in my power, just ask and I will deliver!"
Now that the imminent danger has calmed and whilst Biyo is delivering his theatrical monologue, Sercha and Lydia notice that this world is not quite as they would expect (Alainn is much too engaged in the conversation).
It is night time for sure and just past the circus tents towering over you, part of the moon is visible in the sky, but it is being held up by a massive mechanical arm. When you take a second to look closer, the sky appears to be a large mural painted upon a large curved surface.
Alainn listens intently with 'ooo's and 'aaah's in all the right places before applauding heartily.
"That was a great performance Mr Venna. You have a starring role I'm sure, but I need more details! Information is key to the story. Where are we right now? Who is Zassiron the Patchwork Lord? What is this place we are in currently? Who was Sonnorae? Who are the nine conspirators? What are their tokens and why do we need them?"
By the time Alainn is done with the rush of questions, they are wearing jester's motley, complete with tinkling bells and a wide smile. "I ask the questions so the Heroes don't have to look dumb, see." The gathlain confides in a stage whisper before turning a remarkably quadruple backwards cartwheel in the air and landing with a flourish.
"Ta-d... ooo!" Alainn's magpie like attention has been caught by the deck of cards that seem to have come through the portal with them. "Interesting..."
The gathlain grabs the cards and begins shuffling at speed, before producing a second deck and fanning through them both.
"Wait! First question! Most important! What are the Harrow Story Cards you were talking about?"
Biyo's eyes grow wider and wider as he takes in the barrage of questions from Alainn. In reciprocation, he applauds at the end of her gymnastics.
"Me? A starring role? For sure you have mis-read my part in the tale, my winged saviour. I am merely a storykin enabling other greater tales of the realm to unravel. Although I do make a mighty fine plantain pot pie to help others on their way. " He bows and flourishes as his eyes glaze over, clearly reminiscing about his pie.
"You fortunate souls have been brought to the Harrowed Realm. Once a magnificent realm created by Sonnorae, the most glorious story-teller of all.
Within her own realm, the bard, Sonnorae used her family kapenia's powers to create stories that she could enjoy herself whilst retiring to this realm. I am just a small part of one of those stories."
"Unfortunately, some of her characters in her stories grew far too independent and desired to control their own stories so stole the gems from her kapenia causing chaos for us all"
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"Each of the nine Conspirators used these gems to enhance their own stories and lands within this realm. I could tell you the rhyme of the Conspirators if you like? Everyone knows it."
Without waiting for a response, he begins as if it is his duty:
"There once was a story-teller, a magnificent bard,
her deep beating power lay within her great cards.
Her own characters from her tales ached to be as real as their creator
The Nine, the most powerful, joined minds and gathered to await her."
Oddly, his rhyme changes rhythm as he continues, as if he is another person telling the tale:
"Her own creations conspired to overthrow her
and they caught her off-guard. Fie! Treason! Murder!
The power of her tales did indeed transfer
and they devoured her whole for their own ardour.
They took over her rule and between them split land
They drew out their boundary lines in the sand.
The Ringmaster retreated within his high-rise tent
Sanctuary he offers to help him repent. "
His rhyme changes pace yet again.
"The Rabbit Prince oft found, entwined in the Briar
was last to the bard, just her feet to acquire.
He pokes at our realms edges to find an escape
but is still found here amongst our created landscape.
His voice lowers in tone and he slouches over as if another person again.
"The keeper of graves, is the dead Barrow King
He dwells in the graveyard which must be foreshadowing."
Lightening up again, he continues:
"In the Manmolds you will find a museum of wax, the key
here is new story life, the creator Marzalee.
The Mute-hag has the remains of Sonnorae's bones
She sits upon the realms up-high empty throne."
"Within the Sanguine Playhouse you will find a good show,
Balimar the Puppet Master lives here, as all should know.
Within the heat of the volcano, shrouded in molten rock.
He devoured her eyes and named himself Tick-Tock.
"The shadowy slave trader, the Peddler of the Night,
Far out in the desert he gives all a good fright."
His stature grows and he wrinkles his forehead.
"Last but not least is the proud Patchwork Lord
Of all the nine he is most seriously abhorred"
His face shows fear as he continues.
"The all-seeing dragon, master of the realm
he causes pain and chaos, always at the helm.
The stories never end, the conspirators continue
What stories will you find when you look deep within you?"
He regains his prior posture and returns to his own personality, slightly shaking his head and looks around to find if any are still listening.
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Alainn is most certainly still listening and gives a wide smile and another round of applause - which is cut short when both Harrow Decks nearly fall to the floor. A miracle of dexterity and magic prevents this and the gathlain goes oddly silent as it matches the cards to the poem it has just heard...
"So some of the cards characters have gained free will and killed the bard who made this place..." The gathlain muses. "Interesting. Can they still be made to occupy their place in a story?" It asks. "If we play out their story will they take up their part as they should?"
Lydia listens solemnly to the chef’s story and rhymes. Once he has finished, she nods. ”Our task is a greater one than I first realized. We must not only find Sir Meloigne, but also free this realm from the tyrant and his minions. The denizens may be characters our of stories, but that doesn’t make their suffering any less real. By the time we are done, Desna will smile upon the Harrowed Realm once more.”
The half-elf sheathes her sword and turns to Sercha. ”Sercha... It is good to fight by your side again. I am glad to see that you have not lost your touch.”
Sercha listens to Biyo's recitation of verse, but, as a lot of things in life do, most of it went over her head.
"We were always good together in whatever we did," the fetchling replies. She reaches out to touch the woman's arm, but then refrains.
'You're being needy again. That's what ruined it last time'
She turns back to the cook. "So where do we start if we decided to do this?"