Campbell March's page

To celebrate the release, and to perhaps help anyone out there who is wondering "How does my character fit into the circus?", I'm posting 9 circus tricks for every class, starting with the alchemist.

I just started playing this, and I'm loving this (I grew up around amateur theater folks with my mother on stage and my father stage managing, and so much of it resonates).

To help those who, like me, are coming late and may have missed these Tweets, here's direct links to them to save you some searching time.

Alchemist Barbarian Bard Champion Cleric Druid Fighter Monk Ranger Rogue Sorceror Wizard

I haven't played 1-06

But yeah, my Fighter is about to hit L5 so I've run through quite a large number of the adventures.

Uncle stands up, switches finally to an Inspiring tune which the dwarves may recognise as "The Traitorous Vizier", and tries to climb out of the pit.

Athletics (Climb): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14

Active Conditions: Soothed (9 rounds remaining), Inspire Courage 60' +1/+1

Can I do two more quick boat scenes

Uncle accepts the awkward hug from his nephew.

"My boy! I really think you've gotten this a bit mixed up, but no bother. I'm here because your mother asked me to keep an eye on you. I've been out among the longshanks forever, I left because the clan were considering eating me... you have nothing to worry about around who may or may not have eaten a prize-winning slug athlete as far as I'm concerned. You've grown up into a fine example of the frostfur form since I saw you last."

Later, in the mess, Orla and Uncle sit across a table from each other, the hanging lantern gently swinging with the motion of the boat and the waves. With obvious care and skill Uncle removes the shell of the harmonica and exposes the valves inside. Humming a little ditty, he uses Prestidigitation to clean the loose dirt, fluff, grass, pollen and pocket lint that have accumulated in it over its lifetime. That done, he peers carefully down each valve and pauses to squint more closely down one.

"Your B is flat," he says, and starts to hum a different tune.

Orla starts to respond, but then Uncle extracts a squashed bee from one of the valves with the Mage Hand spell he is casting and places it on the table. He continues his focused activity and carefully refits the shell on the harmonica, absent-mindedly stuffing the bee in his mouth halfway through the process. Wiggling it slightly to check all is right and tight he nods to himself, and places it on the table in front of Orla.

Crafting: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21

"Good as new!" he proclaims, beaming.

Uncle is a combination pest and help, and is difficult to make him stop being either.

He stands out of the way, his back to a solid object to help with his balance as he is decidedly not a fan of the way the deck goes up and down. But once he's picked his spot and settled in, there's constantly a tune in the air as he works minor magics to do his best to help the ship along his way.

He uses Mage Hand to lift small things up to the sailors in the rigging if they need them or drop them, Prestidigitation to clean things that need it (starting initially with his hat) and cool the water barrels, and he notices a stuck pulley in the rigging that he'll have a stab at freeing up if someone has a couple of tools.

But he also bothers every sailor with a free moment for the lyrics and tune of sea shanties they know, cheerfully augments the soundscape with Ghost Sound to have more seagull cries and creaking rigging when he thinks it's a bit dull, and has to be stopped lifting rum up to the lookout in the crow's nest.

It must be said he seems disappointed at how little other singing there seems to be going on around him.

The old goblin's face visibly pales, but he rallies.

"W-w-witch is Watching?"

He composes himself.

"You know that she fell seven years ago, and she's not listening, if she could even hear us at all out among the longshanks?"

Nazgub fiddles with the knobs on the lute on the Gnomophone, apparently as a displacement activity as much as it needing to be adjusted, before looking back at Inzo's face and searching his eyes. He shrugs.

"The pledge means nothing now. But the audience commands, and so I obey. I assume we will sing it together?"

Inzo nods in the affirmative, and Nazgub returns to dithering.

"The original has no tune, but as an exercise I've come up with something...you should be able to pick it up."

He starts playing the lute section of the Gnomophone, once again accompanied with the drumbeat supplied by his tail. He makes eye contact with Inzo and bounces his head in time with the words he is singing, once again in goblin.

From goblin hearths to snowcaps far, Witch is Watching we.

Inzo's voice joins Nazgub, hesitantly at first but gaining confidence.

When sneaking free, biting longshanks knee, Witch is Watching me.
Ice is white, your bones alike, Witch is Watching ye.
A goblin throng, singing songs, Witch is Watching we.
Must pledge my soul, or hide in hole, Witch is Watching me.
What our Queen asks, become our tasks, Witch is Watching we.

The established cadence of the song shifts and the tempo changes.

In black of night you'll see her face, her bidding done or be replaced, Witch is Watching you.

Both goblins pause in their singing, and take a deep breath. The next line comes out in a rush, and each sings their own thing. It's clear that if a large group of goblins did this at once the noise would be cacophonous but personal to each goblin. Here, there's only two voices and both can be heard.

Nazgub: Nazgub of Clan Bitesmoon, Sire Grauler, Grandsire Icewound, pledges service as a Songkeeper to the Queen of Ice and Darkness.
Inzo: Inzo of Clan Bitesmoon, Sire Longlegs, Grandsire Grauler, pledges service as a Nightstabber to the Queen of Ice and Darkness.

Nazgub's eyes fly wide and he sits down suddenly, with the music experiencing a trainwreck halt punctuated with a reverberating crash from the cymbals. The silver coins bounce and roll across the ground, settling noisily in the sudden silence. From somewhere awkwardly under the Gnomophone comes a small voice.

"Nephew?!"

Nazgub beats his drum vigorously with his tail, creating dull thumps that reverberate in the ribcages of those watching, a beat that it would be easy to march to.

He starts hammering hard on the bells of his dulcimer and it becomes clear this is a martial song, but it stills startles several passers-by when he suddenly opens his mouth and starts shouting in goblin.

"Tasty forest Fey! Always fly Away! Chase them home, crack their bones, let the gore spray! Bite the Sprite, gulp the Grig, dodge the Jinkin curse! Remind the little flitters they could always have it worse!"

Slightly out of breath he finishes the song, and then collects two more of the silver coins that were in danger of vibrating off his instrument and falling on the ground.

"This time I must insist that you think of the song you would like me to sing yourself," he says, raising an eyebrow at Inzo.