Dendillion hustles to keep up with the onrushing Tiny, strumming his lute hilariously all the while.
Somehow, the scene of a bard, running as he plays, is an inspiration to the group.
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Two platforms protrude from its base and have ladders leaning against them from the ground. From the northern platform climbs a series of narrow steps all the way to a terrace balcony just below the first tier, some 150 feet up, where a great, cavernous doorway enters the tower’s interior.
"Something is wrong here, and I'm willing to bet we won't be alone. Let's maybe keep a low profile as we begin exploring. Looks like there's one obvious entrance. Head there?"
Dendillion takes mental note that there's a performer and an audience waiting for them in Matten Cleave.
"A blight, you say? What sort of blight is it? Because I prefer to be lucky and prepared, which I suppose is it's own kind of good."
"That's an incredible gift. Especially given what the leather on the handle is made of. Thank you." He's taken aback at being called powerful. "I don't know about that. We've mostly been very lucky, surviving many more dangers than we probably deserve. But I guess once you start surviving repeatedly, you start to get good at it? Regardless, not something I can recommend." "We're making our way to Wellspring Tower. We may be full time circus performers, but have taken up a part time gig as adventurers. There are a number of old aeon towers on the Isle of Kortos, and so far we've found bad news at each one. So we're going to check this one out. Do you know the way?"
Dendillion places hands on his thighs, breathing heavily as the sheer adrenaline of the battle runs its course. "That... was rough." Seeing that his friends are alive at least, the bard turns his attention to the shoony. So many of them fell victim to the vicious land sharks. "Ho there, wanderers. Are you well? Any wounds that can be tended to?" He is loathe to offer up Chark's services given that she was so nearly on death's door, so instead checks in on them himself.
Like the greatest of showmen, Dendillion continues to conduct his music from the centre of the battlefield. Each ally feels that bolstering of spirit, allowing them to be just that much more effective.
He simultaneously weaves some soothing tones, directing that energy into Chark's soul.
Dendillion, seeing his friends falling to the monstrous onslaught, chokes down his own rising panic to help with his own form of healing magic. The music he plays turns soothing, allowing for flowing vitality to touch Haldan.
He keeps the inspirational tunes going as well, hoping that the collective might from Charlie and Tiny will win the day.
Dendillion moves closer to the mayhem, placing a hand on his stole to activate the magic within in. He then strums his lute, once more using mustic to inspire the people around him.
The bard isn't killed at slaying monsters, but he does think he can help his friends who are. Once more he strums his lute, magical music flowing forth to contain the bulette advancing on Goliath.
Dendillion struggles with the situation, with these beasts attacking the poor shoony. Just what are these things?
Dendillion strides into more or less the middle of the conflict. He spots Chark, seeing her wounds, and resolves to do something about it. With a strum of his lute he harmonizes with a single sustained note that he sings. The sound is somehow soothing to Chark's ears.
With his music still resonating through the area, Dendillion considers the massive land shark before him. "No, that just won't do. Let's see if we can contain this threat." The bard jams a loud D chord on his lute, the music filled with his magic. An immobile force field begins to form around the bulette, attempting to restrain it.
He then shuffled to get some distance from the creature, hoping to get closer to Chark so that he might address her wounds.
Happy that the show was a success, Dendillion is all smiles even as the attention turns to problems outside of the Circus of Wayward Wonders. "Agreed, my good friend. Wellspring Tower, I think it's called? We should make for it and see what's what."
Happy to take on the mantle of ringmaster, Dendillion works to get the plan together and a performance order that is certain to wow the audience. "It's going to be a good one!"
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Dendillion's heart isn't in the first few days, but when he sees that they're not having the good fortunate he'd hoped for the great bard steps up his game, helping however he can.
Dendillion shrugs. "It's what they said."
Ever a man of the people, at least as far as his performances are go, Dendillion speaks to those who will answer his questions. He uses the promise of entertainment as a way in to each conversation.
"Good eye, Tiny. Here, give me a hand turning that table so I can see what's in the drawer..." Dendillion reads quickly throguh the various documents he finds, stopping on the letter. "Yungor Swinten, a drunkard, died 7 years ago. The Kerrick Grange sent Vandy a thank you note for taking care of the burial expenses. Seems noteworthy." "What's behind those double doors?"
Dendillion nods, putting on a smile meant to cheer Vandy up. "You are far too kind in your assessment of us. We are simple, well-meaning performers. But I think I speak for my fellows when I say that if there's something we can do to help, we will." "Tell us more of this haunting."
Dendillion watches with quiet approval as Tiny sends in the Clowns near the end of Fireproof Flynn's set, helping to cover up a small emergency.
Dendillion sets up the performers before getting ready himself, making sure that everyone know where they'll be in the order of things. He takes a chance and decides to give the newer members an opportunity to shine. Performance Assignments:
OPENER Trick 1: Dendillion BUILD UP Trick 2: The Smoke Dragon Trick 3: The Majestic Mistdancer BIG NUMBER Trick 4: Evora and Gigi FINALE Trick 5: Fireproof Flynn Trick 6: Haldan Trick 7: Fidget's Fireworks He then gets out there to wind the audience up for a humourous, magic-infused musical tale about an incredibly talented liar of a Pathfinder. The real Red Raven...
Dendillion decides that he will perform this go-round.
Dendillion spends his first day in town selling their gotten goods to fund their show. He does his level best to charm and haggle his way to the best price possible. "The silk on this pillow is exquisite, no? Imagine the comfort! And the thread count is such that drool would likely bead right off the surface!"
During their first week the great bard watches Charlie work at promoting the show. "Nicely done, my friend! Here, let me take up the baton for the next few days. Do what you need to do."
He then spends the rest of his spare time busking on the streets, knowing that running this circus is expensive and every spare copper piece helps.
Having set aside the task of getting to know the new circus mates, Dendillion spends the time traveling to Kerrick recovering from his many wounds and converting their adventures to musical tales. Although never anti-social he spends more time alone than is typical of the loquatious bard. Upon arrival, he returns to his duties as quasi-elected ringmaster. "We'll see you there, Mister Vandy! With appetites to spare!" With the group settling in, Dendillion makes a few suggestions about how to proceed. "We're new here, and I'd like us to make a big splash. Plaster the walls of every building with ads, get street urchins passing out flyers to every passerby. That sort of thing. And maybe we can spring for those disposable binoculars? I saw them once and think they'd be fun for people to use at our show. Thoughts?"
"I, for one, am very much done with Escadar," Dendillion says to the Professor. He considers the man's wisdom, glad that Thunder Stendhal had the wisdom to keep the man around. RIP. "Kerrick sounds wonderful in that it is not spelled 'Escadar'. I say we make for it, with our expanded troupe in tow."
Dendillion, who is struggling against all of what Dusklight has wrought on him, manages to get a few words out. "It's over. Turn her in. That's justice. And better than what she'd do."
With the loverboy fleeing the scene, Dendillion hurries forward. His mind is muddled by whatever magic the mistress wielded, but his friends are in danger and that's enough. Enough for him to be very, very cross. He rushes into the room, gets close to Mistress Dusklight, and tries to brain her... with his lute!
It's a simple message. The best he can give in his muddled state.
Dendillion tries, but he doesn't get through to Mazael, "Liar! You speak words born of jealousy!" "Jealousy? No, you are wrong. I speak out of desperation. Desperation that you will see the truth. See the evidence before you. People have died by Dusklight's hands, and it needs to stop!" Dendillion knows that the group looks ragged. Bloodied. Hurt. But also earnest. The troupe is filled with purpose to right the many wrongs by Mistress Dusklight's hands.
"I'm getting the feeling that, with all the commotion, good ol' Mistress Dusklight has, as the farmers say, flown the coop."
Not trusting himself to be able to staunch the blood flow in time, Dendillion rushes over to Chark and begins digging through her backpack. He retrieves the saint's balm she showed him one time, then carefully applies it to the space around her wound.
Wounded and now in the thick of things, Dendillion whistles a quick note to erect a magical shield for future oncoming blows.
He continues to play as well, a consummate performer who never misses a beat. More bits and bobs fly out, most a distraction for the one the bard aims at Stallit's head.
Still playing a jaunty tune to slow Stallit down with mirth, Dendillion laters more bardic music to hurl bits and bobs at the lawman.
Dendillion wastes no time switching tunes to deliver a riff that soothes Chark's wounds.
He continues to sustain a humorous jig, keeping Stallit's funny bone tickled.
"You must see the humour in this. No? Well then, I ask you this," Dendillion strums his lute, playing a jaunty little riff. "How many Kuthites does it take to light a torch? Zero, because they abide in eternal darkness!"
Dendillion then layers on more music, the magic within filling his friends with courage.
Dendillion sighs. "This would be easier if you weren't the worst kind of liar, Stallit." To the group he says, "Those cuffs aren't even locked, I'm afraid."
And because Dendillion can't help but deliver a quip, he adds, "It's a good thing too, else I think we've have a lot of awkward questions about what kind of proclivities you have... given the shackled bruiser you have there."
Dendillion absently strums his lute, letting subtle magic flow out towards Stallit. "My friend, I think we have an opportunity here to fix things. Why don't you tell me more about what's going on here?"
Dendillion shrugs. "It is very interesting to find you here, deputy constable Stallit. I'll let her know now." If Stallit isn't quick to react, the bard continues. "Or, I'd suggest you tell the truth about your affiliations with the circus."
"I like to think that I have a good idea now and then. Let's see what's beyond."
Dendillion strums his lute, manifesting magic in each note. He hums a harmonic note, controlling the sounds to create the magic he seeks. Seconds later, a sliver of a portal appears. Summoned by the magic, a tiny, blue-skinned gremlin steps through. The creature brandishes a small sword, looks at Dendillion, and yips in fear at the bard. It cowers, body language suggesting that it expects to be beaten at any moment. "What you want, master?" "Go through that door. Take that sword and break every single mirror near the door that you see. And call out if anyone else is in there. They'll probably attack you, so you'll want my help."
"I don't like it. The mirrors. But I could send a helper in to go smashing all of the mirrors. If there's a trick to be had, they'll suss it out."
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