Boodiddly gives a thumbs up in agreement.
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"Oh dear, we're so soirée to crash this little sorry!" The gleeful look on Boodiddly's face as he gives his jaw-harp a good twang suggests that he may not, in fact, be sorry.
Hero Point Reroll if that is a Crit Failure:
Boodiddly would be fine to make an exit - he's used a good chuck of his spell slots and really could use a rest. No worries if others want to press on.
"...Oh. Huh." Doing his best to hide his disappointment that the paper's meaning remains hidden, he asks, "I don't suppose anyone has magic to uncloud the mind and restore memories, do they?"
"Oh, right, you weren't at the asylum Kolgradd. Um..." Boodiddly has to wrack his brains for a bit to remember the details. "There was an asylum, and the violin was in a pile of discarded clothing next to a furnace. Oh!" He digs around in his pack for a minute before holding a scrap of paper aloft in triumph. "And it had this inside! Go on, show it to him!" He pushes the rolled-up scrap of paper at Zann, hoping the stranger might know what "Auseil" means.
Boodiddly hands over his fiddle, hoping that will be close enough
"Ask him if he's Zann," Boodiddly suggests. "If he is, maybe don't mention the count who threw him in here, but let him know we know how he was mistreated for trying to help and ask him if he can explain what he was attempting to do."
"Get behind me!" Boodiddly begins to arpeggiate on his fiddle as he steps to the side, the notes rising and falling and rising and falling and dragging those around him into uncontrollable writhing and twisted dancing.
"Our deepest apologies, madam." Boodiddly bows deeply and gracefully. His voice drops to a soft, gentle whisper he hopes won't carry as easily to the guards outside. "Might you be the lady Delmaria Eldarius? We are here at the behest of your father, to deliver you a message. May we enter?"
Hero Point Reroll if that is a failure:
"But, if you don't mind me asking, why are you stationed here? If there is something priceless here you are tasked with guarding, perhaps you would feel better accompanying us while we are here?"
When Shohreh points out the nosy guest's... skin condition, Boodiddly does his best to avoid looking directly at him. But he does glance out of the corner of his eye, trying to imagine what kind of creature would be, uh, suffering so.
Boodiddly strikes up a conversation with the musicians, discussing repertoire, patrons, and whether they are employed solely by this household or travel between gigs.
Once everyone is relaxed, he'll bring up the names Delmaria and Zann.
"The honor is all ours, Maste- Lord Avaric." Boodiddly's tongue slips a bit as the hours spent awake begin to catch up with him all at once. But he glibly continues, "We are friends of Lord Edlarius, having just come from visiting him at his estate. I am Boodiddly, and these are my friends Kolgradd, Shohreh, and Jevar."
Before Kolgradd takes off in pursuit of the carriage, Boodiddly pats him encouragingly on the back. The warrior's feet pound a rhythm that the bard's whistle embellishes with a tune as oppressively cheerful as the street is gloomy.
Fascinating! Boodiddly keeps a straight face as Kolgradd relays the ghost's request, but internally he marvels at the idea of a song giving substance to a figment in such a way - even if such a performance did not turn out as expected. "Surely we can extract this Zann as well, no? Though if we have to choose between rescuing both and rescuing only one, we will of course prioritize your daughter. Though, as a living person surrounded by vampires, I do not place high hopes on him surviving such a bloodthirsty bacchanalia..."
"We also heard of a musician in town - do you know where they might be? I always love meeting fellow artists."
Boodiddly inwardly muses on what kind of person this Musician might be, but straightens his back, nods his readiness to depart, and waves farewell to his summoned hand. For its part, the hand waves back and sinks back into the strange ground from whence it came.
"Now!" Boodiddly points dramatically at the stranger as they pull themselves back to their feet. In case there was any confusion, he pulls out his
Out of curiosity, does Reality Leech have the Concentrate trait? I do believe Kolgradd was in Disruptive Stance.
Boodiddly whistles and the strange ground ripples in response. A massive finger pokes up, followed by another, and another, and another, until an entire hand many times the size of its summoner towers overhead. At the sound of another piercing whistle, it glides forward towards the masked stranger.
With the sounds of an excessively-moist trumpet BLAT still echoing in the air, Boodiddly briefly considers trying to wrest the staff from the stranger's hand to even the playing field somewhat, but decides against it in favor of a more indirect approach to the same end.
Question: does that Horrific Revelation ability have the Auditory trait? It sure... sounds like it! XD
Boodiddly shakes his head, gaze to the ground as if in sorrow. "My dear emissary, please do not waste your time and ours both with offers of such paltry trinkets. A crown of gold is worth nothing to one such as the yellow-robed king; nor is an offer of lordship anything of value without discussion of estates, duties, and standing within the king's court. Why, with those terms, he may have millions of such agreements; the scope of which would carve even the greatest kingdom into pieces smaller than a grain of sand. Or perhaps this promised lordship is but the lowest rank within this new existence, with one rising to higher and higher echelons by recruiting others to the same service." He leaves unsaid how such a model would cast the stranger's own motivations in doubt - but he nonetheless pauses to leave space for such unspoken words. "But you are no fool. Speak plainly and speak truly - what can your lord offer in equal exchange for our fealty and service?"
Boodiddly's own mask subtly mimics the one before him, becoming less featured and textured with each word the stranger speaks. When their words fall silent, the bard pauses to respect the gravity of the situation before responding with calm, flat, deliberate words. Or perhaps just to give Cassilda a moment more. "You honor us with your attention, when there are surely more important matters for one such as yourself to be attending to. We are not yet ready to join the one who must not be named; our spirits yet strain against the guidance of logic and reason. But, alas, I stand here speaking what you already know. Please, tell us more of this parley you offer. What do you seek, and what do you offer in return?"
If this truly were inevitable, they wouldn't be trying to stop us.
"Stellae," Boodiddly answers cheerfully. "Big ol' clumps of rocks with carvings and bad vibes. Lowls activated ones in our world and the only way to deactivate them and prevent our world from being absorbed by this place is to disable the matching ones here." He glances at his companions for confirmation.
"Lowls is someone from our world. He... found a new friend, who convinced him yellow was the best color. And now he wants to share that new-found love with everyone else." Boodiddly's carefree smile doesn't falter even when discussing the subsumption of everyone and everything he holds dear. "Would have arrived the same way we did a little while ago. Though... time... might not be the same here?"
"Ma'am, perhaps you might first tell us of yourself? There are those here who would do us harm, and those who would do so intentionally. As someone who lives here, you must understand that our caution is warranted." Boodiddly's voice is pleasant and light, as if he were discussing biscuit recipes with a friend rather than assessing a stranger's danger.
Boodiddly does spare a glance for the beard. It seems to be fine, maybe a little worse for wear, but he can't really expect too much more out of it. As long as it stays out of his mouth, it should be fine. So why all the fuss...? Ooooooooooooh, Kolgradd meant his beard.
With only one foe remaining, Boodiddly returns to his familiar whistling and clapping.
Boodiddly tries to settle his stomach before giving Kolgradd a little pep in his step. A zing under his wing. A push to his tush.
Boodiddly blinks again as the stranger locks eyes with him. He decides to roll with it, giving a dramatic wave of his arm and a deep bow in hopes of eliciting some applause from all three of them.
Boodiddly's brain is befuddled, but he still has enough presence of mind to suggest Kolgradd use the pointy end of his hammer after seeing how badly Shohreh's darts skewered their attacker.
Oh boy! Level 15 gives Boodiddly:
And most exciting, Occultism increases to Legendary! This means Bardic Lore increases to Expert, which means it qualifies for Unmistakable Lore's "crit fail -> failure", meaning we can always get some Dubious Knowledge out of it! Huzzah!
Boodiddly slowly circles around the undead mound, hoping Shohreh and Kolgradd can cut it down before it does the same to them.
Boodiddly pulls back, deciding that discretion is the better part of valor when it comes to an orifice that big. But discretion never said anything about not playing a jaunty fiddle while being valorous, did it?
"Now!" Boodiddly does his best impression of somebody not bothered by the undead fungal mass beside him and points directly at its rotten core. "Cut it down!"
Boodiddly starts a jaunty sea shanty on his violin, refusing to give the cosmic horror before him even the dignity of his acknowledgement.
"Must be quite the humid day today - these strings're struggling to hold their pitch." Even this is delivered with the placidity of someone commenting on the weather and not the emergence of a submerged husk of something from beyond the stars.
I want to see what Boodiddly recalls, but we know this thing infects people by them knowing its name. It might make sense that it would have some awareness then of when its name is being spoken, and it might also become aware that it is being spoken by creatures that it hasn't infected. That might be enough to stir it?
Boodiddly takes a moment to consult his copy of Pocket Guide to Golarian's Unexplained Phenomena before giving his opinion on the matter. Occultism to Recall Knowledge:
Boodiddly tries to wiggle free of the polyp's disgusting embrace, but can't quite get his face unstuck from the suction cup enveloping it. Or, at least he hopes that's just a suction cup and not a quickly-forming mouth with hopes and dreams of gnome nose.
Boodiddly continues to hotfoot towards Jevar, stopping when he (unhappily) can see both the polyps. He claps twice, the sound booming and echoing grandly on the hard stone.
Little feet slap stone floor as Boodiddly follows after his friends. Again the bass rumbles like an angry whale's song - and another answers it!
My apologies, that should be DC 33 for the basic fort save against phantom orchestra.
Boodiddly chases after his friends, squeezing past Shohreh and Jevar to where he can almost catch sight of the things he'd really rather never set eyes on ever again in his life. But his short legs can't quite make it there - more's the pity - and he stops short to summon a deep bass blast that (hopefully) will not be as easily deflected as something higher-pitched.
"Shohreh! Wait a moment..." Boodiddly plays a quick motif on his violin, then repeats it - but faster! "There we are - now go! And remember to watch out for the tornados!"
Boodiddly likewise wards himself and continues to clap encouragingly.
For his part, all Boodiddly can do is clap his hands encouragingly and sob.
"Shohreh! Watch out! It's coming, hic, for you!" The words escape the blubbering like the hands of someone seconds from drowning.
Boodiddly has been doing his best to keep his feelings bottled up and put a happy face on the anger he feels at the injustice of poor Elari's fate. But this... This is too much. The floodgates open, and tears pour down his face and into his beard. He tries to whistle, but the heaving of his chest doesn't spare any breath for anything besides gasps between sobs. So instead, trembling hands clap twice and then wrap themselves around him in some semblance of a hug.
Boodiddly helpfully masks Kolgradd's most colorful word with a sour trombone note in the group's mental conversation. Yeah, not a fan, he adds, including an image of a shaking head. But I'd rather do this trade they speak of than risk harming Elari. "Truly a fascinating approach to literature," he states dryly to the ghouls, "but perhaps you might consider a means of transferring knowledge that doesn't involve the active destruction of that medium? Take, for example, the humble book." He plucks a tome from thin air and lets it fall open to a random page without breaking eye contact with Ignoc.
"Fascinating. Now I can learn facts about the Veiled Voice, such as what they prefer to eat for breakfast, but you too can learn those same facts. And your friend, and then their friend, and so on until the cows come home." He snaps the book shut and tosses it over his shoulder back into thin air. "Perhaps I have piqued your interest?"
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