"Easy my friend. There is more here than meets the eye." Nuruk says far more softly, seemingly having learned what tact was over the eight years that they were still together. He eyes the strange human curiously for a moment. Willow was right, there was a familiarity to him that rung true but where exactly could it be placed, he did not know.
Sam looks at the man, puzzled. He seems a sage, a diviner, or maybe just a fool... Who knows? Shuffling his deck, he picks one card at random and offers it to the stranger.
He moves his hands repeatedly downwards, trying to calm his friends. He seems to imply that the stranger might need some time to find the proper words.
Nuruk does recall talk of another missing boy -- at the time, he was too distraught by the loss of his own friends to do more than note it and assume the carnival claimed another victim.
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Startled by the tiefling's sudden lock on his wrist and Vashrin's threat, Khalil pulls back hard. Much too hard. Completely over balanced, the young man goes tumbling backward. The leather thong linking the wooden charms snaps leaving the tiefling holding the simple handmade set of imaginary constellations in your hand. Wide brimmed hat and Five of Glyphs fly into the air. The glossy card momentarily sparkling in the bright lights of the carnival as it hovers over the ensuing events like a vulture circling a possible meal. Desperately Khalil attempts to right himself by grabbing the closest object of any size or solidity he can.
In a most inopportune conjunction of aligning stars this also happens to be the moment the Lady Willimina Haventree, distant cousin to Lady Remallia Haventree of the Waterdhavian House of Ulbrinter, and well known lover of all things chocolate and sugary and the wealth to over indulge such a habit, decides to momentarily stop and adjust the wide belt surrounding her rather wide figure.
Khalil's hand, still seeking a solid perch, discovers instead the soft fleshy backside of nobility for the first time is his what may be a truncated existence. A wild, and one might add, very unladylike screech, erupts from the matronly noblewoman's jiggling jowls as she is launched forward into the water trough at the base of the monkey cage. This in turn sets off the monkeys within said monkey cage because...well simply because just about anything can set off the monkeys in the monkey cage. As they screech and squawk in a key only slightly higher than Lady Haventree, they set off just about every other creature in the nearby area. A great cacophony erupts even as Khalil lands hard on his backside directly into what one might expect to land in on a concourse often used by horses, mules, dogs, cats, and even the occasional oliphant.
The young man's face goes pale with unremitting horror even as the dragonkin tries to step in and calm what has rapidly become the utterly, most certainly, most extraordinarily worst day in Khalil's life. Fortunately, few can witness this horrified look for long as the hat quickly drops across his face, followed shortly by the upturned Five of Glyphs.
"Drawn like a moth..." Nuruk says, thinking to himself for a moment before looking over the charms and accoutrements upon the man. Memory came to him of another missing boy, the son of a mean drunkard. Memories began to come back of a young boy, one that had followed them around bit by bit, but was always on the outside. It was one of those things that just happened by association, a mean man sent his burdens onto his children. If the parents didn't like the man, their children didn't like the child.
"There...there was another child that disappeared eight years ago. One that wasn't with us." His attention turned towards the fallen man, stepping over them and offering his hand to help him out of the muck. The stink clung to him slightly as he pulled him up and out of the way.
"The tanner's son. He was a small boy, shy, followed us from the edges when we played? Remember? I can't remember his name though. His father was mean, real mean." Nuruk says, more to himself than to the others. His eyes look back into Khalil, studying them. "Does any of this sound familiar?"
Willow stumbles slightly as Khalil wheels backward while she watches, silver eyes wide, the unfolding tragicomedy in real-time.
Seeing Nuruk has the situation handled with helping Khalil up, Willow studies the bracelet. She gently turns the charms over in her fingers, her nose wrinkling in confusion as she studies each one. "Pretty sure he's not flirting, Karley--would be less weird if he was, though."
She crosses her arms, still holding the bracelet, and raises an eyebrow meaningfully at Khalil.
Vashrin removes his hand from his blade at Nuruk's behest, shortly afterwards the scowl leaves his face and is replaced with a look of amused astonishment as he sees the mild catastrophe befall the farmer.
Stifling a chuckle, Vashrin quips, "I thought events like that only unfolded for Karley...or by her." Turning to the halfling he asks, "Did you have anything to do with that?"
Thinking a bit about Nuruk's recollection, the bard responds, "I vaguely remember a younger kid kind of like that, that followed us around...but only vaguely."
Sam almost wants to pull Karley's card from her and give it to the tanner boy after all what happened, but the presence of a noble woman with her reputation ruined makes him hesitate.
This is gonna have consequences, and maybe cautiously abandoning the place would be a wise decision. He gently but urgently pushes some of his comrades, pointing at some far away spot with his chin and vocalising silently Go, go.
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Lady Willimina Haventree gurgled in the water trough, a muffled, warbling, high-pitched sound. Her ample rump was pointed at the stars, and her squat, tree-stump legs were kicking wildly, her cankles on display for all the carnival to see.
Her retainers, an older, slim gentleman and a shy-looking young lady hurried to her aid, straining visibly to right her. She gasps in air, her face covered by what had been in a painstakingly complicated, curled up-do moments before. Now she looked an awful lot like a walrus, two clumps of wet hair hanging in front of her like tusks.
she trailed off as she peeled the hair from her face and spotted Nuruk. Her eyes landed on his midsection, travelled up his chest, and finally craned her neck upward to see his face. Her cheeks, flushed and splotchy from rage and indignation, grew redder still. Suddenly she was quite concerned about her appearance, making the best of the disaster atop her head and brushing down her skirts, then pointedly adjusting her bosom for the best effect. "Why...my good man. Did you chance to see the villain that assaulted me?" She was oblivious to Khalil at that moment, eyes lingering on Nuruk's golden scales and impressive physique. She assumed what she probably thought was an alluring posture.
The older retainer glanced at his mistress, then Nuruk, then Khalil, and rolled his eyes, but he said nothing. The young lady covered her mouth to hide a smile.
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Sammy had the best idea; it would be wise for them to move onwards. Nobility was such a pain to deal with at times, the few times they had to be argued with still etched into his mind. Yet before he could muster away, the well-stacked woman had turned her vehement attention towards him and...reacted in a way that he was not quite prepared for.
The woman adjusted herself, flush entering her cheeks, before hefting her bosom carefully and with expertise. Anger was something Nuruk could pacify. An enraged socialite was something that could be dissuaded. One with a fine taste in men (in Nuruk's opinion) was something else entirely.
"Oh...ah..." Nuruk looked to her aides but found no help there waiting; the older man saying nothing while the young woman hid her mouth to suppress a grin. He looked back at his friends in a moment of desperation, deciding which level of tact he would try to engage this women in.
"My lady, I am truly sorry. I did not see which miserable cur had placed their hand upon your sturdy form. If I did, I'd cut it free from their being as justice for you." He would take her hand, lifting it and placing a kiss upon top of her meaty hand. "Do not let such a beginning disturb you, my lady. The night is young and faeries are amidst us. Who knows what delights tonight may provide?"
The woman's heavy-handed flirtation is painful to watch. Still, Nuruk's response is so chivalric and buttery-smooth that despite the slapstick nature of the entire affair, Willow feels some pity for the ridiculous noblewoman. Even more pity for her retainers, who would likely be hearing about this for days on end.
Willow moves to gently pull Khalil away from the entire affair, trying to help Nuruk's attempts to smooth over the situation by removing the actual cause of the drama from Lady Haventree's immediate view. "The further away from this, the better," she whispers as quietly as she can to the newcomer. "We seem to have a lot to discuss, anyway."
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"Oh! Lady Haventree pulled out a soggy fan and tried to cool herself off but splashed water in her face instead and thought better of it, clutching the kissed hand to her chest instead, as if treasuring it.
"Who knows indeed! If you should spot the man responsible, I do hope you teach him a thing or two about how to treat a lady..." She leaned forward, speaking conspiratorially in a breathy voice, "Although you could grab a handful anytime." She winked lasciviously, then turned to her retainers.
"Reginald, Jemma and I are going home to freshen up. Get this man a purse for his vigilance tonight, and see that arrangements are made for the main event this evening." She looked back at Nuruk. "I'll save you a seat beside me when they crown the Witchlight monarch later, and then perhaps you and I go for a quiet, secluded stroll through my gardens after the carnival?"
Reginald, eyebrow raised, handed Nuruk a coin purse that clinked as he held it out.
"Oh...oh my..." Nuruk says after the noblewoman makes her offer towards him. How his mentor must be laughing hard and fast at his predicament. He was once more happy for his unique biology; hard blushes were difficult to notice upon a dragonborn. It was all about the darkening of the frills, showing that Nuruk was quite out of his measure. "Your offer is...noted." He said with a wide smile. If nothing else could be said, Lady Haventree had bravado. Few would come and flirt with one that had teeth and a face like a dragon.
Reginald approached with the coin purse in hand, passing it over to the bewildered paladin. He gave the friendliest smile back to the noblewoman and her entourage. He would wave one last time as Lady Haventree looked back at him as if he was the sun before disappearing amidst the crowds. Only then did Nuruk open the coin purse and see the twinkle of gold within. A hedge knight like himself could use every bit of coin they could get.
"Well, that was a start. I feel...paid for and slightly dirty. Shall we grab something to eat?" Shaking the coinpurse, he grinned. "Food is on me."
Vashrin grins at Nuruk's comment, patting the dragonborn warrior on the back, "Dirty? No, take it as a compliment...not necessarily one to follow up on, but a compliment."
Glancing towards Willow and the unfortunate farm boy, Vashrin asks, "I believe you had mentioned an orchard of sorts?
Khalil picks himself up from the ground and hurriedly plops his hat back atop his head, pulling it low. With the dragonborn providing a distraction, he has a moment to notice the smiling young lady who may or may not have seen anything. Deciding he couldn't simply run away without some matter of amends, he pulls a small wooden box containing a half dozen hard honey candies sprinkled with berry pollen. Half of what he saved for himself from the most recent batch he'd made for the carnival. Slipping over to the girl, Jemma, he offers a quick duck of his head.
"Beggin' your pardon miss." He says politely offering the candy to the lady while her matronly chaperone is so obviously focused upon other interests. "Please accept this small gift for any...ummm...inconvenience you received during this rather unfortunate incident." He says quickly before then backing away and following the others toward a quieter part of the carnival.
Between Nuruk's remembering that Khalil might have been another one damaged by the Carnival's whims; the man's nervous, yet polite attitude; and his actions with the woman's retainer just now, Willow considers that she might have been a little harsh with her first impressions of Khalil.
She flips the card that Sammy gave her over between her fingers, studying the images on it. She isn't very familiar with the meanings of the cards, although she does know that they have some kind of significance. She nods at Sammy as a thank you, slipping the card reverently into her pouch and matching her pace with his.
"Nuruk, if you're buying...I have some recommendations for places to eat." She glances at Karley, raising her eyebrows. "We need at least two bottles of wine to share." She huffs quietly with laughter, unashamedly taking advantage of the dragonborn's good fortune.
Jemma smiled at the gesture and winked with a finger to her lips that she wouldn't tell. She nodded her thanks and followed her lovestruck mistress.
The group began to walk past the ticket booth and into the carnival proper when Zorth spoke up loudly. "Ticketh! And wingth! Don't forget them! The quiet one there hathn't got hith yet, can't be too careful!"
---------- Once Sammy has a ticket ------------------------
For the first time in eight years, you set foot within the Witchlight Carnival as a group. Karley and Willow, and to an extent Khalil, were as used to the place as one could be after their time spent here, but tonight felt different. Seeing the others had brought back feelings long repressed. Khalil was still feeling topsy turvy over the unremembered memories, and the fact that the dragonborn, at least, might have some clues to his past.
The carnival was laid out in the shape of a figure eight -- or an infinity sign, depending on your point of view. The entrance places them right at the crossroads of it all. There,, in the midst of a group of onlookers, was the source of the carnival's ever-present calliope music. The instrument was on the back of a brightly painted wagon, with a monkey wearing a cloak covered in buttons turning the handle at the wagon's rear. The music issued forth from rows of golden whistles, each with a magical effect to accompany the sound, puffing colored smoke, butterflies, or illusory musical notes into the air.
A goblin dressed as a ladybug is toddling up to guests who are watching, rattling a tin cup.
After 83.33% of the group manages to escape from the noble woman's claws, dining is discussed. Sammy could do with some pork pies, though he lets himself be guided by Willow and Karley. As locals, they'll know better.
While walking to the place, Sammy places himself in front of the two girls so they can read his lips.
Can. We. See. Juniper. She. Alright.
Willow sighs and holds up a finger. "Need to pay for you, Sammy." She runs off and tosses Zorth the correct amount of silver and grabs a set of wings for Sammy. "Sorry about that, Zorth - got a little hectic with Lady Haventree...you know how she is."
She runs back and hands the wings over to Sammy, raising her eyebrows in very mild admonishment. "Juniper went back to her owner that same night. I haven't seen her since." Willow looks sad while she says it. The memory is something she tried to push out of her mind--worry for Juniper and her mysterious "master" in the Feywild, whether she was being treated well or not...
Willow notices in the very last moment that Sammy hasn't payed yet, and quickly pays for him. Sammy quakes in fear at the thought of trespassing again... He gives the coins he had in hand to his friend, playing some nice hand tricks and making them disappear and then appear again from her ears, nose, hair and into her pocket.
Thank you he vocalizes.
While the others settle down for food and wine, Khalil slips behind the trees and shrubs lining the back section of the feasting orchard to the shore of the little stream. After letting one of the swan shaped gondolas pass, the lanky young farmer slips out of his muck covered jacket and begins to scrub it clean in the cool, clear water.
The burble of the stream, the scent of the flowers, and the simple mundane task of cleaning the soiled coat allows Khalil a moment to catch his breath. The whisk-whisk of his little brush creates a quiet steady rhythm. A stark contrast to the wild calliope music blaring from the carnival entrance.
Still uneasy and certainly mortified by the catastrophe with that woman he uses the relative peace of the little spot along the stream to calm and recenter himself. Using the techniques Verity taught him, he takes several deep breaths and with each exhale lets all of his fear and worry drift away on the wind. You mortals always carry so much useless garbage around in your minds. She'd tell him. You want to survive in the Feywild, you need to survive and thrive in here. She stabs her thumb toward her heart. Thinking. Tying yourself into emotional knots. Worrying about what will come. That'll get you in dead before you can say fiddle-faddle. Some plucky trickster will have your soul caged for eternity if you are busy thinking on yesterday's sorrows. She reaches out and taps his head with a long finger and then his chest. So keep that clear of mortal molly-muck and stay true to who and what you really are.
Remembering the Kitsune's words brings Khalil back into himself well enough that he can actually start to puzzle through what some of those others were saying. Tales of missing children. A mean father. Twins...apparently separated by harsh means. He looks up at the stars. Chills still race along his spine, but not so much now. He reaches down to feel the comfort of the wooden charms upon his wrist, only to find it missing.
The tiefling! He could see the little handcrafted set of wooden constellations clutched in her hand as he tumbled backward. An angry growl rumbles from his throat and his face turns momentarily dark before he brings himself back under control. Still, he'd not let Gorm send him off to the Pumpkin King. He certainly wouldn't let some carnival girl steal from him. Odd visions and feelings or not.
Slinging the damp jacket over his arm he marches back into the pavilion and up to the table where those he saw earlier drink and eat. His eyes land upon on the tiefling, and his meager totem still in her hand. The earlier confusion and shyness that plagued his eyes has fled. Instead there is the quiet strength of one who survived. One who aided a bridge troll child and a trapped kitsune. One who owes debts to fey lords, but still lives. He simply holds out an outstretched hand, his voice is calm but holds more strength than anything uttered earlier.
"May I have that back?"
As you all continue along, past the odd calliope playing monkey , you make you way to the right and see a twelve-foot walking tree, garlanded in golden ribbon, marching down the thoroughfare. Emerald clouds swirl above the tree and rain down golden, spinning sycamore seeds. You see fairgoers trying to catch the seeds before they hit the ground.
As the seeds gently fall, a very chittery squirrel scampers along the boughs of the tree, handing dandelions to select passersby.
Regardless of whether or not you try to catch a seed, the squirrel runs up to each of you in turn, handing every one of you a dandelion from his fluffy, white bouquet. You note that is a bit odd, in that the creature was being more stingy with who he was giving them to as you approach. The tree turns to look at you all. "Heeeeellllllloooo, sooooooffft onnnnnnnnes," he says with a long, drawn-out drawl. "Rrrrred wannnnntssss yooooooouuuu tooooooo maaaake a wiiiiiiish."
----------Marigold's Approach----------
Willow pulls a button from her tunic and then drops it in Marigold's bucket, nodding at her. "I'm from here, so...it works!" She gives a little bow to the goblin before moving on with the rest of the group .
----------Seeds/Treant----------
Since living and traveling with the carnival, Willow's sense of wonder for a lot of these things has faded--they are part of her environment, something she has gotten used to over the years. Sometimes the thought that she is desensitized to the carnival's atmosphere saddens her a bit, but here and there she finds something new and exciting to take in at the carnival. Her old friends by her side again make her feel a little more open to whimsy.
When Red approaches, Willow willingly takes the dandelion and bows respectfully to Red and Northwind.
"This lovely, leafy gentleman is Northwind, and the squirrel is Red," she says, by way of explanation to the entire group. She then blows on the dandelion, closing her eyes reverently to make a wish. A wish to honor this occasion: The Reunion of the Defenders of the Dawning Bastion.
Looking around at the sights of the Witchlight Carnival for the first time in eight years, Vashrin looks on in amazement.
As the seeds begin to fall from the walking, talking tree, the young half-elf reaches out in an attempt to catch one, and snags one from the air before it can hit the ground
When Red presents him with a dandelion, Vashrin gets a confused look on his face. He wasn't a wayward child anymore...this time he had paid his way into the Carnival, why was he being given a dandelion?
When the tree-being explains the meaning of the dandelion, Vash shrugs, and blows on the dandelion.
Looking to his companions, he comments, "It would be easier to have a sense of wonderment and joy about this place if we didn't know better."
Sam gracefully catches one of the seeds. He takes the dandelion and bowed his head, giving thanks to the adorable squirrel.
Minutes seem to pass by while the tree talks. Finally, the message is clear. Though he's quite sceptical about it, he thinks he's got almost nothing to lose, and blows the dandelion.
Bewildered and befuddled and smelling of whatever it was he landed in, Khalil barely registers the massive arboreal seed spreader. With little actual conscious thought or effort the dazed son of the Feywild casually plucks one of the spinning seeds out of the air before it can smack him in the nose.
Feeling the treant's rumbling voice vibrate his chest, the dark haired Illuskan politely accepts the squirrel's gift with a somewhat wobbly bow.
"Make a wish..." He mutters quietly to himself, still not at all certain of the ground beneath his feet. He tries to order his thoughts pondering what fair boon might be granted. But ever so quickly the thoughts wither upon the stalk for what would be the price of such a thing. For in his experience, free was not a word most fey used.
"What would be the cost of such a boon good Red?" He leans down and asks the squirrel swaying only slightly from the odd feel of his muck coated coat.
As most of you reach out to catch a falling seed, true to form with the carnival, things are not as they first appear.
Continuing along the path after your brief encounter with the walking talking tree, you all see a tent ahead with a large, lit-up sign that says "Lost Property." Willow and Karley glance at one another, knowing their friends are about to greet a familiar face.
Sure enough, sitting outside the wagon is a large feline creature, with midnight-blue fur, and large butterfly wings strapped to the two tentacles sprouting from his shoulders. He is currently roughhousing, gently, with two young boys. "Again, Dirla, again!" yells one boy, while the other hangs onto his neck, trying to uncork the canteen he wears there.
Musing to no one in particular at the sight of the lit-up sign, Vash says, "Lost Property? Certainly, it couldn't be that easy, could it?" As delightful and even vaguely amusing as that thought was, the young half-elf just shook his head, trying to clear that thought. No Vash, you know better than that with this place...
"Is that Dirlagraun that I see?" Vashrin asks as the group gets closer to the wagon. All in all, his tone is much more light-hearted than it had been since the Defenders reunited.
Willow huffed with laughter Vash's musing, shaking her head. If only...
As they approach the displacer beast's wagon, Willow waves enthusiastically at him, then turns to look at the others. She pulls a bit of a cringing face, awkwardly rubbing the back of her head while she speaks.
"Ah, maybe don't bring up Star...he went missing a couple of years after Karley and I came here, and it's been really hard on Dirla. Let Dirla bring it up."
"Oh please, Willow, with the number of things that go missing around here, how could he be all that upset by something like that." Vashrin says, chuckling. Only briefly stopping afterwards to consider what had just come out of his mouth. Why in the Nine Hells would you say something like that...you're better than that, Vash...
Khalil smiles as the seed transforms with a sparkle of gold. Unsure if the fairy gold would last beyond the confines of the carnival he nevertheless slips it into his pocket.
He sighs as the squirrel chitters away, tiny rodent arms waving about in descriptive gestures that make absolutely no sense at all to the young human. And so he falls back on that age old tradition of nodding, smiling and following along with the others. Since no one else has suddenly turned into a toad, become covered in pox, or gained two left feet he goes ahead and forms a thought in his mind. It is something simple. Something small. With a brief bulging of his cheeks he puffs upon the stalk and sends seeds floating high into the air.
He hangs back when the others step forward to greet the tentacled feline. There is obviously some familiarity here that he does not share. Even without that kinship, he still can't help but smile at the young boy's enthusiastic shouts for another 'ride' upon the unusual child watchcat.
This is one of those very rare moments where Sam is happy that he doesn't get to talk. Getting near Dirlagraun, he gives the big panther a kind and tender caress. Lifting his hands on a greeting movement, he smiles with his eyes.
Sometimes words are but a nuisance.
The sight of the imposing black feline, though, brings him back memories of Juniper, and he notices Willow didn't give an answer when he asked before. Has something maybe happened to her? He's itching to know.
"Juniper went back to her owner that same night. I haven't seen her since." Willow looks sad while she says it.
"Oh please, Willow, with the number of things that go missing around here, how could he be all that upset by something like that."
Willow feels her body tense up and her cheeks burn with anger at the statement. She stares at Vashrin uncomfortably long, her mouth drawn in a deep frown. After several deep, calming breaths, her hands flexing and unflexing into fists, she visibly relaxes, her face turning stony and neutral, and then nods at Vashrin. "As you say."
She knows this is related to what happened to her the night they all lost their things, but the reunion had her feeling as though things would just...magically fix themselves. He can't mean it that way. Vashrin isn't like that. After this long, she should know better than to think it would be so easy--a simple reunion would not be enough.
Willow avoids eye contact with the half-elf and walks towards Dirlagraun. "Dirla! Some familiar faces are back."
Nuruk would look over the carnival with that same sense of wonderment; it almost seemed bigger than the last time that he was here. Calliope music played in his ear as he passed by the monkey, taking a spare button and tossing it towards the strange fellow. The massive tree that walked, covered in shining gold, moved through the thoroughfare sprinkling golden sycamore seeds for all to see. Nuruk reaches up, trying to catch a seed despite his own lumbering nature.
To his surprise, he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder as he reaches for that seed. The light weight he feels gives him the jump to grab a seed as he turns his head to stare down at the friendly squirrel that offers him a dandelion. The little thing brings back sad memories but for a moment, he pushes them away in his mind.
"Not all things are truly dark and not all things are truly bright. We are shadows and starlight, every one of us." Nuruk reminds himself. He could not let his fears distract him from the beauty here. It was a balancing act; to be defensive but still embrace life.
"Thank you, good Northwind and kind Red." Taking the dandelion from the squirrel, he would close his eyes and blow upon it to send his wish out to the world to be made manifest. He looked towards Vashrin and his lips pressed together for a moment. It was as he saw amidst them all; the half-elf had the greatest darkness residing in him. "That is true but it is impossible to truly fit the Fair Folk into clean and easy boxes. There are dangers here just as much as there is the chance for merriment."
The sight of Dirlagraun brought a wide grin to Nuruk's face, the memory of the kind creature coming into being. He had advocated as best as he could for them, leaving his own child in their midst to help him. The sign of the wagon he was in front of, "Lost Property", brought a soft chuckle before he nodded with Vashrin. "I wish it were so. What we lost wasn't misplaced though." It was taken from them. A payment for crimes that they did not know they were truly committing. When Willow brought up Star's disappearance, he truly wanted to frown but a snicker left him at Vashrin's words. Even after the joke ended, he felt uneasy at the notion. "I would never act in such a way. Something is forcing me too."
"Dirlagraun! Are you interested in roughhousing with someone a little heftier than a child?" Nuruk says with a grin at the intelligent beast, giving him a chance to respond back to them all.
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As for Willow, you were once cursed, and you know the frustration of such a thing -- you also know it can be fixed. You deduce Willow has one as well. She's lost the ability to smile, as you've lost your song, but this seems just as insidiously related as your rhyming curse had been -- after all, why smile when people are treating you so poorly?
You know you haven't been mean to her for most of your conversation thus far, and think back to what she was saying to make you respond so -- warning you against mentioning Star. Perhaps the curse comes into play whenever she warns people about something? Or perhaps, when she expresses anything unhappy? You make a note to try testing your theory, but only after you can explain it to her, to spare her feelings if you're right and it leads to more belittling laughter.
Dirlagraun looks up at Willow's call with a smile, then turns to Nuruk when he calls out. "No...it' can't be! Willow, Karley, I didn't realize we'd returned to your world! My goodness, you've all grown. Especially you," he says, looking up at Nuruk. The boys wrestling with him stop to look up at the golden dragonborn in awe. "You all smell just the same. But I can tell you're not," he added softly, sympathetically.
He looks to Khalil. "You, in particular are much stronger than you used to be, lad. Glad to see you finally introduced yourself."
Nuruk watches the golden seed disappear into his hand, his head tilting slightly as he doesn't feel any different at the moment. His attention turns inwards as he ponders his old master's words for a bit, red eyes focusing upon Willow with a momentary look of concern. There would be time to talk about it later as he made his way over towards Dirlagraun, his smile broadening as he gave a little nod.
"I always told Mama that I'd grow out of the pudge. Seems I was right." The boys stop to look at the titan of golden scales and chainmail links. A wry grin spreads across his face as he takes off his half-cloak and unstraps his axe, the heavy weapon's head hitting the ground with a heavy thud. The boys continue to stare as Nuruk takes a little pose and gestures to them to bring it on. With a squealing warcry, both give Dirlagraun a moment of peace as they leap and assail that paladin. Catching one with his arm, he lets the other try to scale his form as he roars for their entertainment, letting each of his friends have their moment with their old acquaintance.
Khalil looks askance at the big cat. Today seemed to be one of those days where his face was doomed to be locked into a permanent look of puzzled confusion. For the life of him he didn't recall ever spending time with, what did the others call him, Dirlagraun? During his previous deliveries to the carnival.
"Beggin' your pardon sir." He says trying not to offend. "But have we met before? What do you mean by 'finally introduced myself?'" Khalil shakes his head. This is turning into such an odd day. Worse than that time Gorm and I had tea at the old hat makers house. Well...almost as odd." He thinks, shuddering at the bizarre, confused events of that grim evening.
Dirlagraun sighed, a deep, throaty sound close to a growl. "I regret that we did not meet, not properly, at any rate. It is my charge to watch after lost children at the carnival. You were very, very lost. I saw you, watching the others from a distance. So alone. I should have come to your aid, then, but I had already encountered the lot of them, and was on my way to speak with the carnival's owners on their behalf. When I looked for you after, you were gone." The huge cat bowed his head. "I failed in my charge, and for that, I apologize."
Alone and lost and yes, at the time, certainly afraid. Khalil recalls finding himself standing near one of the big tents. The Hall of Illusions. He could remember the feel of the thick fabirc as his small fists clenched the tent to hold himself upright. The wild calliope music filling the air, the lights, the smell of candy, sweet breads, searing meat-on-a-stick, spilled ale, animals and sweat all mingling together to overwhelm is young mind as odd performers and indifferent customers passed him by without notice. Panic kept him frozen in place for minutes, seconds, hours? He really didn't know and still can't recall how long he stood there clinging to the broad striped tent wall immobilized with fear and confusion and a sense of something lost, but no real idea what it was.
It wasn't until Gorm came up that the trance-like panic state started to loosen its grip and he numbly followed the half-elf out of the carnival. That was all he remembered. Perhaps he was watching the others as his poor mind tried to deal with whatever had happened to him.
The memories of that day still cause Khalil's heart to race and he avoids thinking about it much of the time. But he can sense the big cat's honest regret and sorrow and so he gently reaches out a comforting hand.
"I do not remember these folk or following them around." He says to the kind hearted feline, placing a hand on the creature's shoulder. "My earliest memory is...well...it is like I just woke up from a dream, or maybe nightmare is more appropriate, and found myself...here." He looks around to take in the carnival. "Gorm was the one who found me. Took me in and offered me a home and some form of kindness I suppose. Taught me the art of farming, fey ways, and some of the natural order of things. Said he'd took me in out of kindness and because he didn't have a lad of his own. Of course, now I know he really just took me in to cover his price to the Pumpkin King."
Sad, kind eyes gaze at the apologetic feline. "I see no fault of your own in any of that, for I do not think you were responsible for leaving me here or taking away whatever memories may have belonged to me before that day." Khalil musters a smile and does his best to offer a bit of reassurance. "Besides, I've a good life now. Although today has gone quite strange, I've got plenty of honest work to do and a few good friends back home. For all his faults, Gorm helped me survive and thrive. For that I thank him. And if this lot found themselves crossways with Mr. Witchlight..." He suppresses a shiver at the thought. The carnival's owner always made him uneasy. ...well then...your efforts were probably better spent on them than on me."
Willow stays quiet for most of this; Dirlagraun is a fixture of the carnival and not much of a novelty to her anymore. Before her performing days, she would help Dirlagraun here and there by watching the children alongside him and protecting them from the perils that the carnival held (even for those who lived there).
She watches Khalil's conversation with some interest, although she is mildly confused by his referring to Mr. Witch and Mr. Light as one person...perhaps that detail was something he had lost as well.
She turns over the bracelet of his in her hands still and sighs heavily, deciding that with all of the pieces coming together for the poor man who had lost much of his memory, holding on to the bracelet was not necessarily worth it.
"Alright, farm boy. Have this back. But you do owe us an explanation as to how you know about Celeste...and why you think there should be a specific number of us and all of the other mysticisms you spouted earlier. Perhaps sharing your name with us may help, too." She tosses the bracelet at him rather carelessly, raising one eyebrow in anticipation of whatever response he might give.
One of the boys wrestling Dirlagraun had stopped to peruse the items on the shelves in front of the Lost Property wagon. He picked up a small, mirrored ball, Dirlagraun, in an uncharacteristic flash of anger, snatches the ball back with a snarl and a flick of one tentacle. The boy yelped and dashed away in fear.
Dirlagraun's anger faded immediately, replaced by worry. He groans. "No wait I...damnation. I didn't mean to -- could any of you lot go catch him? Their mother asked me to watch them while she used the privy, I don't want to leave and worry her." He was quite agitated, ears laid back. The other boy seemed not to have noticed the outburst and just looked confused as to where his brother had gone. Dirlagraun still held the mirrored ball, protectively.