All right. Here it is. Do or die time.
Singing.
Crap. This is where I messed up last time. Crap o' crap.
Mum always said I had the perfect singing voice to be a mime. Now I know what she means.
Frik, there's a lot of people out there. I could imaging them naked like Dokkus suggested, but too many are so damn ugly.
Andwell takes a deep breath. What's to be will be he thinks to himself.
Summoning all his Halfling courage like never before. He focuses deep within. Opens his mouth.
and . . .
Andwell Greencap Tactfoot. Standing fourteen feet tall at the edge of the stage. The biggest little Halfling to ever survive his humble shire. He beams joy to the audience, while a small silent tear mixes with his sweat. Shed for the pride his parents would have for him, if not for the destruction caused by the Goblins all those years ago.
Yes indeed. He has grown this day. Where it counts.
Besides, it's hard to be humble when your this damn good.
Vors mutters a quiet prayer to Erastil, hoping he's listening and that he cares about theater.
Strength Checks:
Reflex Check:
The theater is filled to capacity. Extra tickets have been sold for standing-room only. It seems as if the entire town of Sandpoint is in attendance. Tactfoot, Tosh and Vors were able to secure three seats for Borhald, Vestad and Viorela. There is a quiet murmuring in the audience and the excitement is palpable. The lights go down on the house and the lanterns on the stage are lit. The crowd goes silent.
Tactfoot, dressed as a hunchback, comes on stage. He is wearing a dull brown sack of a costume, his wig a mess of sandy brown hair. He begins to recite his lines, telling the story of a tragic childhood, troubled upbringing and current plans for evil. The crowd loves it.
The stage goes dark as Tosh comes on stage. He is wearing a bright red doublet and stage sword. The backdrop is a convincing recreation of a forest. He begins singing of his love for dear Hilde, the princess. His rich baritone fills the auditorium, culminating in a falsetto declaration of affection. The crowd erupts in applause.
In the next scene, Allishanda comes on stage and sings of her oppressive father and his refusal to allow her to be with the man she loves. In an act of desperation, she writes a letter to her lover and attaches it to a sparrow. Backstage, Vors attempts to maneuver the sparrow on a rope across the stage and out of sight. Unfortunately, he is sweating so badly in nervousness, that he loses his grip on the rope and the sparrow bounces across the stage. To the audience, it simply appears the letter is too heavy for the bird, but backstage, Drokkus looks as if he'd like to hang you in the rope.
In the next scene, the crowd discovers that the letter is intercepted by Tactfoot, who believes the message is intended for him. At last! True love and redemption has found him. He devises a plan to remove the princess from her home. As he does so, he tells another heartbreaking story of betrayal that brings the audience to tears.
Following that moving scene, we see Tosh, distraught that his love has ignored his declarations of love. He meets with his friends and they devise a humorous plan to disguise themselves as handmaidens and sneak into the princess' room and kidnap her so he can meet with her face-to-face and convince her to accept his offer to run away. Meanwhile, across the stage, Allishanda is equally distressed that she hasn't received a reply to her note. She wonders if her love has forgotten her. In talking with her handmaids, she devises a plan to dress as a priest and sneak out of the castle.
And that closes out Act 1. The crowd gives a loud cheer as the lights come up in the auditorium - it is obvious they are greatly enjoying the show.
Backstage, Drokkus approaches you, a wide smile on his face. "I would not have believed such a performance were possible, had I not seen it with my own eyes. Marvelous! Truly, truly marvelous. And you!" Drokkus turns his attention to Tactfoot "Where did such an inspired delivery come from? You are, sir, a natural." Speaking again to both Tactfoot and Tosh, he says, "I don't suppose I could convince you to give up whatever line of work you're in to join us full time, could I?"
Seeing Vors approach, his brow sweating, he says, "You, sir, need to get your act together. Are you trying to sabotage my show!?"
During the intermission, you are swamped by the crowd. They press their hands into yours, slap your back and offer their thanks - many of them for the second or third time. You do, however, overhear some criticisms.
"I thought they were supposed to be investigating the Goblin threat with the Sheriff? What they doing here?"
"I'm glad our 'heroes' have time to take in the arts."
"If I didn't know better, I'd think that ol' Drokkus staged that goblin attack 'imself. Seems to 'ave drawn a pretty big crowd, it did."
"Alas Drokkus, I think not. I have a wandering heart you see and I think the people of Sandpoint deserve a more stable celebrity. Perhaps I can fill in another time."
Tosh bows deeply and stands beaming.
That felt good. I really needed that after my pitiful performance against those goblins.
The tall ranger remains quiet during the intermission. Unused to crowds, or so much attention, he merely mumbles thank-yous to the well-wishers and stoically tries to endure the criticism. However, he cannot help whispering to Viorela: "A bit fickle, are they not?"
Vors, at the man's accusation, goes red in the face, steps close to Drokkus, and jabs a finger into the man's chest.
"I did not ask for this! You wanted me to be your stage hand, and I helped, thinking you didn't have anyone else to do it for you. I'm a farmer! You want someone good with ropes, then enlist a sailor next time! If you wanted a show to go off without a hitch, you should have hired professionals, instead of trying to increase your fame by rubbing elbows with the heroes of the hour! I did the best I could. If that's not good enough for you, then you and your theater can go to the Hells."
Vors stands defiant, eye to eye with the man, waiting for his response.
Vors, at the man's accusation, goes red in the face, steps close to Drokkus, and jabs a finger into the man's chest.
"I did not ask for this! You wanted me to be your stage hand, and I helped, thinking you didn't have anyone else to do it for you. I'm a farmer! You want someone good with ropes, then enlist a sailor next time! If you wanted a show to go off without a hitch, you should have hired professionals, instead of trying to increase your fame by rubbing elbows with the heroes of the hour! I did the best I could. If that's not good enough for you, then you and your theater can go to the Hells."
Vors stands defiant, eye to eye with the man, waiting for his response.
Drokkus backs down immediately. "Oh...no...sir...I...uh...you're correct. Grateful. I'm grateful, yes. Oh, I must...um...yes...um...I'm need elsewhere. Keep up the good work everyone!" With that he heads off to deal with or create some other drama.
Once Drokkus leaves, Vors seems to remember himself and glances bashfully at the rest of the assemblage.
"Er...I'm sorry. I did try. I guess I'm just not cut out for the theater. The rest of you were really good. Congratulations."
Viorela applauds as vigorously as any member in the audience.
Who's have thought? Arts in Sandpoint! Magnimar, for certain. But, Sandpoint?
She leans over and whispers to Borhald and Vestad, "They were quite good actually. I've seen several plays in Magnimar, and they could pass for actors there."
She smiles, nodding her head as she makes eye contact with the others during their curtain call.
I wonder, are they to perform multiple nights? Have we lost half our compliment in researching the goblin attacks?
The lights go down in the auditorium and the second, final act begins. Tosh, dressed as a woman, comes on stage and locks the door behind him. He appears to have been chased into the room. Turning to the crowd, he tells of his adventure. He successfully snuck into the castle, dressed as handmaid. Unfortunately, it was just the palace discovered that Hilde was gone - presumably kidnapped by a mysterious priest seen walking the grounds earlier. His disguise was quickly rendered useless when he was asked what he knew of her whereabouts. Being incredibly handsome, but not terribly bright, he answered without changing his voice. And the chase was on.
He managed to give the guards the slip, sneaking into the very room of his beloved. Now, however, he is overcome with distress that Hilde has been taken. He vows to find who took her and avenge the slight on her honor.
At just that moment, Tactfoot comes on stage, dressed in a mask and cape. Leaping in from the window, he throws a bag over Tosh and proceeds to drag him out the window, remarking how heavy the princess is and assuming it must be all of her royal jewelry. Stepping back onto the window sill, he takes hold of the rope and attempts to swing out with the princess in tow.
Backstage, Vors successfully manages to swing Tactfoot heroically out over the crowd and out of the castle.
The next several scenes feature Tosh and Tactfoot fighting over their love for the princess while the Hilde tries to find where her love has gone amidst rumors of his falling in love with the deformed hunchback. Finally, the play reaches its climax, with Hilde arriving at Tactfoot's home. Seeing his true love, Tactfoot declares his affection only to be rebuffed by the princess who is disgusted by his visage.
Also seeing his love, Tosh gives a relatively believable monolog sharing his affection for Hilde. He is believably dopy and lovestruck. The crowd eats it up. And so does Hilde. She runs into his arms and they leave Tactfoot alone and distraught.
The backdrop quickly changes from Tactfoot's apartment to an abstract, mystical land, signifying the altered mental state he has entered. Unfortunately, Vors is engrossed by Tosh's performance and misses his cue - again. The backdrop falls on the poor stagehands who were injured earlier today, injuring them anew. And aworse.
In despair, Tactfoot begins to contemplate how he will end his life. In a song that is both humorous and heartbreaking, he explores his options before ultimately choosing to swallow a deadly poison. He swallows, chokes and dies. The play is over and the crowd erupts in a swell of tears and laughter.
The actors come out for their curtain call. Tosh and Tactfoot are met with overwhelming applause. Heading backstage, they are met by Drokkus who hands them each a bag of coins. To Tactfoot, he also hands a bound book. "You earned it sir, you earned it." To Vors he hurriedly hands a couple of coins and offers a quick, scared, "Thanks for your help."
Suddenly, there is a loud commotion. A halfing, accompanied by six thuggish men approach Drokkus angrily. "What is the meaning of this?!" the halfling says angrily. "You replaced me, Drokkus? You couldn't wait? That's no way to treat your star."
Nervously, Drokkus raises to his full height and says, "Oh, Master Yenrry. You've arrived. Finally. Yes…um…we did proceed. The show must go on, no?"
As the show concludes, you stand and make your way through the crowd to the backstage area to see your friends. When you finally make it backstage, you see them talking to Drokkus, a halfling and six large men. The halfling appears to be quite angry. And the six men are cracking their knuckles menacingly.
Tosh lives it up at the curtain call. He bows, smiles, and blows kisses.
Backstage, he thanks Drokkus for the opportunity. His smile fails when the halfling and big men stroll up.
This can't be good.
Tosh rushes up to the halfling like an adoring fan.
"Yenrry! Wow, I have been following your career forever! You're why I got into show business!"
Vors will keep an eye on the proceedings, grabbing up something nearby to use as a club if things get violent. (Considering he's probably not armed and armored for a night as a stage hand.) Tosh's fawning draws a bewildered look from Vors for several long moments before a look of understanding and an admiring grin cross his face.
Borhald stays quiet, but his hands do move towards the hilts of his sword and dagger.
At the curtain call, Andwell, jazzed with adrenaline and fame, searches the croud for a willing fan to join him in a private late night encore performance. A nicely rounded Halfling versed in the finer points of "hobbit style" wrestling would be nice. Or perhaps he could practice his climbing skills on one of those tall whispy wood elves. The ones with legs as long as he is tall. Or . . . he he he, perhaps. Both? How does this fame thing work anyhow?
Going back stage he's see the trouble brewing.
OH! MASTER YENNRY! Goodness me. your safe! Master Dokkus was sick with worry that some evil had befalled you during the hideous Goblin raid. Yes Yes, sick he was. *pause for impact* His star missing, and all the town in such a great need for entertainment to distract from their troubles. My my o' my. Distraught he was, distraught.
He moves closer to clasp his hand.
In an emergency like this, we insisted that the show must go on. For the morall of the town. The performance would be amature, of course (with you in it), but the town was in so desperate need, he had to try. Try, I tell try. It's all we could do! *fake tear*
Oh Sir. I speak for all of us when I say how joyfull we are you are safe and back where you belong.
No matter how skilled I am at kissing butt, the tast is always the same
diplomacy (any GM bonus for creative monologue? wink wink, nudge nudge)
Bluff
Yenrry is clearly unimpressed by the feigned compliments, but he does seem somewhat calmed by the diplomatic explanations.
However, when Tactfoot attempts to pickpocket him, he loses his temper anew. "Are you trying to rob me of something else, you fool?! First you take my role, and now you would steal my wealth? What manner of fiend have you hired, Drokkus?"
Drokkus looks horrified. "You little beast! Why…why…you will never act in this town again! Trying to steal right in front of me…"
The six thugs Yenrry has with him step between Yenrry and Tactfoot. They crack their knuckles threateningly. It appears they are unaware that Tactfoot is among friends.
Yenrry is clearly unimpressed by the feigned compliments, but he does seem somewhat calmed by the diplomatic explanations.
However, when Tactfoot attempts to pickpocket him, he loses his temper anew. "Are you trying to rob me of something else, you fool?! First you take my role, and now you would steal my wealth? What manner of fiend have you hired, Drokkus?"
Drokkus looks horrified. "You little beast! Why…why…you will never act in this town again! Trying to steal right in front of me…"
The six thugs Yenrry has with him step between Yenrry and Tactfoot. They crack their knuckles threateningly. It appears they are unaware that Tactfoot is among friends.
Oh my goodness, no no no. I was simply trying to place these earnings discreetly into you pocket.
I know a actor of you caliber would never accept them openly, but they are your earning after all. I was simply making a vain attempt to copy your perfected style. All credit for the performance goes to you.Holding out the bag of 15gp, with a large calming Halfling grin.
As does the spoils.
"I never meet a Halfling I never liked" is a phrase I can no longer use now.
Yenrry calms down at Tactfoot's words. "Oh. My apologies. And you may keep your money. I couldn't take funds that I didn't earn myself." Turning back to Drokkus, Yenrry says, "I understand that the show must go on. Though, I daresay, it probably wasn't much of a show without me. Please, take me to Allishanda. I wish to...speak...with her." Realizing that his goons are still standing menacingly, he adds, "Oh, drop it fellas. You're just dancers - stop trying to look so intimidating."
They all turn to walk back to the dressing rooms. Drokkus turns and mouths a dramatic "Thank you!" before catching up with the animated Yenrry.
Tosh give another little bow to Drokkus as he leaves.
Once they are alone, Tosh says, "Well friends, should we retire to the Dragon to discuss what we've found?"
Borhald slowly releases his sword hilt, glad he didn't have to butcher any dancers.
He shakes his head but cannot avoid grinning at the halfling. "Master Tactfoot, that was quite the performance, and I do not mean the play."
Vors exhales, opening his fists and relaxing.
"Dancers? I've seen more graceful forms pulling plows...but Borhald is right. Andwell has a silver tongue on him."
"Indeed he has a fancy manner of speaking, and quick wits. If only it were tempered with more honesty and a great deal more faith, he would make a fine preacher. I suppose he has time yet to learn both.
Andwell look up at Vestad. Jaw dropped and eye wide. After all the events of the night and the comments about his silver tongue, he is now . . . .
speachless
This time the ranger laughs out loud, if briefly. "Come, now! Let us adjourn to the Dragon before Andwell is named patriarch of the temple!"
"Ah ha ha! Well done Borhald! Well done, indeed!"
Perhaps we should give up on discerning the origin of these goblins and all sign up as entertainers!
Viorela gave it a thought. She's rather be a matron of the arts rather than an actual actress. Being on stage in front of a live audience sounded more dangerous that facing a band of a dozen goblins by herself. At least there, she had her magic to help her. No amount of charms or swordplay could save her from an anxious crowd.
She smiled her approval of the night's events.
"If only I knew you were all in the play, I would have brought you a gift. Perhaps some drinks on those of us who aren't actors are in order?"
"Maybe one drink. Right now I could use a snack to settle my stomach. All this pressure to do well makes me nervous. To be honest, I'm thinking goblin-hunting would be easier."
Well said Vors. Yes yes. Always time for a snack. As for the other matter, I have a nice manuscript that may shed some light on our quest. But not here. Even a Halfling knows when he's pushing his luck in any one situation. Yes yes. Away from here. To food and drink we must go!
Tactfood fingers the hidden manuscript to be assured he still has it before leaving with his cohorts.
I hope the price we paid for this information is worth it. Dying in battle is quick, but dying on stage can last a lifetime.
Once safley in the dragon, Tosh ushers everyone into the most private corner booth he can find.
"It is imperative that we all look at master Tactfoot's new book."
He looks expectantly at Andwell.
Yes yes, indeed my friends. Yes yes.
Let me pull this out he reaches into his pants and lay it on the table for us all to examine.
Looks around the table
Did anyone think to order food and drink? Or at least drink?
Now looksee here. It says . . . Andwell begins to read.
You arrive at the Dragon to a loud cheer. Many from the Theater are in attendance and press against you when you arrive. Amekio sees the difficulty you're having and stands on one of the chairs before loudly saying "All right you lot! Give them some room. Let them eat and drink in peace!" Stepping down off the chair she moves towards you, the crowd parting for her.
"Sorry about this. They always go crazy for the celebrities. Would you like a little privacy?" She leads them to a booth with a curtain that could be pulled around one side, giving the illusion of privacy.
Tactfoot pulled out the manuscript, which was surprisingly short. On the cover, he read the title: "An Ass and an Aasimar." There is no attribution.
Opening the parchment, he read a poorly written story about "Newaleah," - either a misspelling or an attempt to protect the identity of the true Nualia. The author claimed that she had been dumped on the cathedral steps and raised by "Toebeen," the cities' cleric. She had a terribly difficult childhood, with many thinking she was a witch and that touching her could cure ailments, locks of her hair brewed into tea could increase fertility and that her voice could drive out evil spirits. This made her feel like a freak and a loner. Much of her childhood was spent alone and friendless.
When she was 15 years old, a young Varisian named "Viskanta" began courting her. She fell madly in love with him. The author completely skips over the relationship, moving to the night when she tells Viskanta that she's pregnant. He called her a "slut" and a "harlot" before leaving town, afraid to face Toebeen's wrath.
The story then skips forward to the night Toebeen discovers her pregnancy. He forbade her to leave the the cathedral, made her pray to Desna for forgiveness and lectured her nightly. His actions unlocked an anger in her that had laid dormant.
The baby, tragically, died before it could be born, further spiraling her into despair. In a hastily scrawled conclusion to the play, her despair and anger propels her to sneak through the castle late one night, light a fire under the door of her father's room and lay down by the fire, ending both hers and her father's life. The play ends there.
"Though a fiction, there is enough fact here that I think we must try to locate this "Viskanta". I do not hold out much hope to find him, but maybe some of the old timers remember him? What do you all think?"
Yes yes, Master Tosh thinks true. Motive. Motive I see. I see it, yes. But . . Andwell struggles for the correct words why refer to her as an . . um . .unfaithfull a slight blush crosses his face. Unless their love was forbidden. You know, no touchy touchy forbidden.
My my, puzzles within puzzles.
quietly to Tosh perhaps the play should be called nesting dolls. Or nesting dolls ass. Or the aasimar with nesting doll in it's ass. because of the puzzles, you see. Oh never mind.
Borhald tops off his own mead-cup before passing the cool pitcher to Andwell. "Here you go, master Tactfoot. And well deserved it is. And as we suspected, the girl had problems brought on by a suitor..." He ponders for a few moments.
"It is quite the tragedy... If this is true, she burned herself, and her step-father, alive in vengeance. But if he abandoned her, why would this Viskanta want to hurt Sandpoint now? Unlikely. The true victim here was the girl, and she is dead... Who would wish to avenge her?"
Voirela, you seem to know a lot about assmarks. Are they a vengeful peoples. Bad bad if so.
Gladly pouring from the offered pitcher.
Did we order food?
"Also, how would this person avenge her by stealing her stepfather's remains?" Vors shakes his head, and then fills his own cup, mulling over the story and how it could possibly figure into the goblin attack.
Viorela gives Tactfoot a reprimanding glance.
"An -Aasimar- is usually quite noble actually. In most stories they are heroes, or companions that aid the heroes. To see one in a tragic light is quite unusual."
Although if I lived Nualia's life, I don't think I would be too happy with Sandpoint either.
"I suppose if the town made a mockery of how special she was, she would grow to be vengeful. It's natural for a teased child to want to beat back up on the bully whey grow older and more capable."
Borhald barely holds back a laugh regarding Andwell's creative renaming of outsiders. "What I don't get is how a dead girl gets goblins to steal her murdered father's remains, five years after the fact. Could she have planned this ere she died? To what end? And how does a priest's daughter meet one goblin tribe, let alone several? She must have had an accomplice...
"The more we dig into this, the more I wish my mother were here to see the future for us...I just don't know where to go from here."
"Seems like we're just grasping at straws here. Maybe we should look at what we do know. Goblins attacked Sandpoint. They were from several tribes. They're being led by a non-goblin. This leader must be somewhere out there with his troops, likely in one of the tribe's villages. We find the right village, and we find the leader. So I suppose the question shouldn't be 'Who took the priest's body and why?' but rather 'Which goblin tribe should we go to first?'"
Having said his piece, Vors tears a heel off a loaf of bread and uses it to sop the remnants of stew from the bottom of his bowl.
The Paladin's thought are focused, yes yes. We do have that hunt in the morning. Any chance we could make ourselves "tasty targets" for Goblin scouts? Could be a way to lure them out on our own terms. Could could. But such tactics are not my game. What say you strategic types?
Looking down the table.
Viorela. You gona eat the rest of that. Shame shame for it to go to waste?
"Oh, but you know how all the tragedies play out, especially those penned in Magnimar?"
Viorela gives them all a conspiratorial look.
"Well, the fat merchant who financed the play realizes how profitable it is, and makes the writer come up with a sequel."
She nods her head, as if to indicate the others already know where she's leading them.
"So, the poor starving author has to add a bit of story to his first body of work. No, the young girl didn't die in the fire, she narrowly escaped. Didn't you pay attention? The body was never found. Or it couldn't be identified - someone switched the corpses. Our villain survives on to a second chapter and plans an even larger and grander scheme to evoke vengeance on those that wronged him... err, her."
As Viorela continued to recount the theme of several plays she had seen in her time in the cosmopolitan city, she worked her self up, the excitement clearly showing in her voice as she sped up each subsequent word.
Andwell listens intently and nods in total agreement to Viorela.
So. . .you ARE going to finish your plate then?
How do these Humans expect me to fight Goblins on an empty stomach. And this is only supper. There's still dinner later after all.
Andwell's question catches Viorela completely off guard.
"I... er..."
She studies her plate.
"Well, no I suppose I'm done. Enjoy."
She slides the uneaten food towards the halfling.
I wonder how he stays so light when he eats six times the food I am. If I ate like that, oh my hips and thighs would balloon up to the size of Tosh's ego.
Borhald listens with interest as Viorela describes the melodramatic plays from Magnimar.
Once Viorela concludes, he nods grimly. "That is quite the theory, and it is plausible, if improbable. But how to prove it? I believe Vors has said it best, the goblins are our next logical step." He then smiles.
"But there also seems to be wisdom in the halfling's words." Having finished his own plate, he reaches over and steals a chicken thigh from the plate formerly belonging to Viorela, but now being raided by Andwell. "The sherriff wants us to keep a low profile. What better way to disguise a scouting trip than by going on a noble's hunting expedition? I am sure he will be too engrossed trying to impress Viorela to notice anything the rest of us do." He grins again before biting into the chicken.
Tosh listens intently to Virolea and the rest.
"I believe we have finally shaped our theories into a plan. However, how do we scout and/or lure goblins while keeping the noble safe and unaware?"
Borhald finishes his chicken, then takes another drink of mead. "No need to be over-subtle, Tosh. While we hunt, we look for sign. If we find it, we follow it. The nobleman can choose to follow us, or turn back."
He shrugs his broad shoulders. "It matters not if he dislikes it, this is serious business."
Tosh regards Borhald with equal measures of shock and amazement.
So we're hijacking the hunting trip and we're not even trying to be subtle? Ok. here we go.
"You are a very direct man Borhlad. However, I trust you and everyone else at this table, so I am with you."