Your outburst is met with flinches, shrugs, and shaken heads. It seems that despite the number of people with letters from this 'M' person, not a single one knows who the Hells they are.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
A faint glint shone in Isoldus's eye at the mention of taking issue wiht the Baron. The Dragonborn folded his arms and rolled his shoulders. Perhaps his time wouldn't be wasted here after all.
"My stance on the Baron is clear. I oppose him," Isoldus calmly rumbled, glancing between Marcus and Dusty. He tapped a claw to the sheath of his blade - a metallic ringing coursed through the air. "Though I am no fool, and nor is he. I wonder - who organized this arrangement, who sent the letters, and why to us in particular? I am wary this may be an ambush, though you have the word of a dragonborn wronging me will lead to your demise," he said with a snort, two strands of smoke curling from his nostrils. Notably, the dragonkin did not carry a cigar.
"You,"he called to the carnival performers, eyes critically narrowing over their features. "You said the leader of your organization instructed you to greet individuals with letters such as the ones we-" Isoldus jerks a polished claw towards the other members of the party- "were delivered. I would like to know their name and title. They must have some stake in this, and I would be interested in having a conversation with them regardless."
"As for you," Isoldus growled, returning his fiery gaze to survey Marcus. "I have no doubts the Baron would attempt such a miserable endeavor, though I wonder; what prevents you from delivering there herself? And if you state danger, why the convoluted method of gathering support? Mercenaries and vagabonds are plenty in this sands," Isoldus said with a twinge of irritation, "And while I consider opposing the Baron payment enough for myself, I expect the others to request payment for their services."
Hugeo finally speaks to the others - to those who remained near the bar, anyway. "The letter says we'll find guidance here, as well as our first clue and step. Nothing about finding M himself. Maybe we're looking about this the wrong way."His voice, partially mechanic as the air is pushed out of the machine part of his body to pass through his vocal chords in the little human that's left of him.
Standing up, Hugeo walks towards the three standing in front of the large Dragonborn. They have a common enemy, so maybe they can work with each other for a while - lawman and pirate. "We were told we'll find guidance here. Could your leader be this guidance we were told about? What does he gain from just meeting us?"
The performer nods along as you speak, then responds. "Lord Dante Arc is his name. He's the troupe leader of Cirque Solace, the travelin' group of minstrels, entertainers, and in his case, fortune tellers that we find ourselves part of."
Marcus gives a bit of a shrug. "I'd do it myself, but I'd likely just end up killin' us both. The Sands are dangerous, and I'd rather send her along with a group of people more experienced with travelin' the Rails than take her with me. And believe me, I agree that payin' a group of mercenaries is a much more straightforward way of gatherin' support, but I didn't really have much to do with this. My name might start with the letter M, but I'm not the one who sent these. If I wanted to hide that it was me, I'd choose some other letter, like... uh... J, or something. As for payment... I'm sure I'll be able to find somethin'.
Hugeo:
While one performer converses with Isoldus, another shrugs. "Lord Arc's a weird one, but he typically knows what he's doin'. If he says we do somethin', we follow, and it usually works out. His guidance has kept us afloat this long, so... well, long answer short, I got no clue, but he's probably got a reason."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Concern and a hint of disbelief cross Dusty's face as Marcus recounts his problem, (what time of the day is it currently?)
" Here? every night? that.. is concerning, but it does give us an advantage in that we know where he might be at certain times. How protected is he? how does he arrive?"
Dusty inquires with an air of suspicion,
Insight on Marcus; 12
As more people begin introducing themselves and questioning the situation and the vague information provided by the note, Dusty remains Interested, listening and taking account of the new individuals weighing up who might be useful to him and who has the skills or power to hinder. At the mere mention of fortune tellers Dusty becomes distracted and visibly more excited.
"His guidance, huh? Well, I guess it's worth trying. I don't see any other leads around here. Will you lead the way?" It could be some kind of trap, but... to what end? If it's the Baron trying to find those who might oppose him, it seemed like there weren't just a few of them, and many of them didn't even attempt to hide that.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Winchester continues to lounge in his bar stool. Not having introduces himself by name yet, he simply switches his attention back and forth between cigar and ale as the 'conversation' plays out around him. Both the patchworkers intent and the dragonborns arguments cause him to slump back a little, closer with his back to the counter, and accompanied with another puff he pulls his hat down just a bit, extending the shadows falling over his face. His eyes fixate Marcus, however, trying to discern the thurthfullness if his words.
Having already taken a seat, a pale dwarf sits muttering to himself as he messes about with a rifle or the parts of one. On the table in front of him sits a rolled out leather tool pouch, each tool meticulously placed. He seems to be to enthralled in his work to notice much else as if oblivious to his surroundings. Still if one looks close enough they would see him occasionally look a around and them pat what looked like a hound that sat next to him.
After several minutes the rifle was quickly put back together and carefully moved to lean against the table. The dwarf then sat up and whistled for the hound, metal rubbing together as it moved and blew out from where a mouth would be. If follows Cormac as the dhamphir dwarf moved to take a seat at the bar.
"What can ya tell me about this? I heard that someone is out for the blood of the baron?" He asks the bartender, putting a bit of coin on the counter.
(Putting my original post up to be seen and I am not sure why but when I got up this morning I was no longer part of the pm chat thread.)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Marcus does not appear to be lying, as he speaks. "He usually came alone, but recently, my sister's been hidin' from him, and he's come with force. Unholy beasts, creatures of the night, roamin' the town. Well, roamin' it more than they usually do."
Hugeo:
"Sure, just let me know when you all are ready."
Winchester:
You can't seem to find anything that might suggest that Marcus is being dishonest.
Cormac: (sorry that I didn't respond to your post, I didn't notice that you had edited it with dialogue and actions. I'll make sure to add you back to the thread, I don't know why you were removed.)
The bartender shrugs, but takes the coin, pouring you a drink in exchange. "I heard there was a listin', but I ain't heard much of it 'sides that. Doubt anyone'll actually do it, whole thing seems like a death trap t'me."
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"More likely that the Baron put it up to entertain himself by either killing or making thralls of anyone that tries. He used to do the same thing with weapon tests. Heard he would offer prizes to whoever could make a weapon that actually hurt him." Cormac said as he pulled the drink closer, reaching into pocket to pull out a vial of a red liquid. He frowns at it before pouring a few drops into the mug and then stowing it away. "Thanks for the drink."
He goes back to his table, leading the metal hound with him as he climbs back into his chair.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
As Marcus finishes his tale Dusty, now satisfied that he speaks the truth, responds;
"this seems like a serious issue but if your sister has until tonight before he returns then at least we have a little time. That is, If, you manage to persuade some more of these misfits to join your cause. Before any of that though I am very interested to speak to this Fortune teller!
Marcus, if I take a few people from here and see what this fortune teller wants, Would you be so kind as to wait here in case this 'M' character turns up, wouldn't wanna miss all the action, you know?"
Dusty slaps his palm down on the bar hard in excitement and then moves his way toward the table with the gaudily dressed circus performers, around which he finds Hugeo and Isoldus.
"you two have shown interest, would you like to accompany me to find out just what this fortune teller has for us?"
without waiting for much of a response and with a broad and beaming smile Dusty turns with a flourish to loudly address the rest of the bar patrons.
"Marcus Junior over there, has agreed to wait here for this 'M' person, But until then I'm off to see this mystic man, Who's withme!?"
Looking around the bar with an all too eager face Dusty waits upon any responses to the offer.
And a loud one too. Difficult people to work with, but every pirate needs a crew. Especially when your target is the Baron. At the very least, the loud one could provide a good distraction, if needed. "Sure, I was planning to go meet their leader anyway." He doesn't want to stay there purposelessly until the so called "you all" are ready, but it didn't seem like there was much he could do. "I'm ready to go when you give the word." He tells the performer, then waits for their mark.
Winchester quietly looks from Dusty over to Hugeo, back to Dusty, to Kronk, and then to the everyone else present in the pub. Seeing a chance to force some action, he bottom-ups his drink and then slams it down right next to where Dusties fist had hit the counter earlier. He slowly rises up from the barstool and begins to roll his shoulders as if to warm up, then rubs his palms together in anticipation, another malicious grin crossing his face. "Right on fellas! I bet none of y'all came in here hoping to catch more dust than ya brought in." He looks at Dusty. "Whaddaya say Mister, wanna lead the way?" Winchester offers. Swinging his arms to the side and pointing them to the door, he stands with a slight bow for a moment, waiting for people to move, intending to stay right behind them.
Isoldus's golden eyes narrowed over Marcus - though not in a critical sense; the dragonborn seemed to be calculating the merits of the mission and the dangers implied. At last, a grunt of affirmation escaped the towering dragonborn, curls of smoke wisping from his snout. He gave Marcus a singular nod. "Very well. I will accomplish what is necessary to oppose the Baron. My last question is - how competent is your sister in combat?"
Regardless of the answer, Isoldus turned from the man in favor of stalking towards the entrance. He paused as his attention was diverted by a comment from the exuberant man - the draconic creature angled his head only slightly before replying. "We may certainly accompany each other. I am curious of what brought us together, though - know this. If you, or any in the group, venerate the Baron or act as another of his thralls, little will stop my blade from relieving the burden of your skull from your shoulders." Speaking in a low rumble, the dragonborn's voice was calm and assertive, leaving no doubts in his ability to kill if necessary.
His tail scraped against the wooden floors, earning a sound roughly equivalent to a snake's rattle. As he passed by Winchester, however, a smirk fell on the dragonborn's features. "If requiring someone's back turned to strike with those little toys of yours is necessary, I'm afraid you don't deserve the title your visage seems to imply. Gunslingers," Isoldus grumbled. He had little respect for them.
Cormac listens to the others but stays quiet for the most, keeping an eye out as he goes back to tinkering with his rifle. As he hears the the dragonborn he shakes his head, muttering in dwarven to his steam powered hound. The machine moves to follow the dwarven dhamphir as he hefts his rifle.
"Nah. Someone with a quick and steady hand could put ya down with a well placed bullet before that blade of yours could be drawn. But enough with all that. I know what goes on with that thing and his company. So if ya plan to kill him then count me in.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
As you leave, Marcus shrugs in response to your question. "She knows her way 'round a gun as well as any Wasterner... er, barrin' yourself, that is. But I wouldn't call her no gunslinger. If it comes down to a fight, I'd rather she run rather than stand and fight, but she might have other ideas."
Now assembled, your motley crew makes its way to the town's Railport, led by the three costumed fellows. They pile you onto a rickety handcar, an ancient relic held together by nothing but rust and sadness. It doesn't even have a proper Navvy, its steering limited to only left and right, while modern trains are capable of elevating or lowering their track, and twisting it in all sorts of dangerous ways. The leader of the pack sits at the helm, while the two others operate the walking beam. Soon, you round the wastebone the town rests on, and begin approaching the brightly-painted railtrain parked directly on the sands just off of the great hand's thumb, which is notably missing its proximal phalange, a bridge spanning the distance between it and the distal phalange, upon which a tall, old, slightly left-leaning house is built.
You arrive at the train, and you can see the words "Cirque Solace" painted on its side in bold script. The driver brings the handcar up to its side, securing it into a spot specifically made for holding it while the train is moving. You all clamber out, and are pointed towards the circus train's locomotive. Walking through the large train, you see a number of booths where all sorts of performers sit. Most of them are just sitting around, looking tired, a few of them are drinking from unmarked bottles of some sort of liquor. As you travel through the train's many cars, you see a few of them performing for some mildly amused customers, but business does not seem great here at Pointer.
Progressing farther, you eventually reach a car just behind the front of the train, which appears to be the end of the line. The sign above it reads 'fortune teller', and pushing back the curtains and entering reveals a car with its roof and walls painted black, with a roof covered with shining golden stars, golden lines linking these stars and forming shapes and figures. The room is lit only with a few candles burning with golden flame on the table set in the center of the room. Sitting in a cushy seat behind this table is a raven-haired half elven man, sporting a short goatee. He wears a purple coat and white undershirt that must have once been quite nice, but time and tide have not been kind to them. Notably, while one of his eyes is a bright blue, the other shines as gold as the paint on the roof of the car. As well as the candles, an engraved wooden box as well as a bottle and a number of small glasses sit on the table.
The man, presumably the Lord Dante Arc you have been told about, grins widely, possibly a little wildly, as you enter. He takes a swig from one of the glasses, grimaces slightly, then pops open the latch on the engraved box, revealing a deck of cards nestled within. He pulls them out and begins shuffling them, and his golden eye twinkles as he speaks. "Welcome, welcome! Ye're the ones I was told of, aye? The ones wit the letter? Weel, let's get started then, aye?" He speaks with a curious accent, one certainly not of this region. Despite his unkemptness and informal manner of speech, he still has a sort of regal bearing to him, and you suspect that the title of 'lord' may not in fact be a fake one.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Kronk:
Your outburst is met with flinches, shrugs, and shaken heads. It seems that despite the number of people with letters from this 'M' person, not a single one knows who the Hells they are.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
A faint glint shone in Isoldus's eye at the mention of taking issue wiht the Baron. The Dragonborn folded his arms and rolled his shoulders. Perhaps his time wouldn't be wasted here after all.
"My stance on the Baron is clear. I oppose him," Isoldus calmly rumbled, glancing between Marcus and Dusty. He tapped a claw to the sheath of his blade - a metallic ringing coursed through the air. "Though I am no fool, and nor is he. I wonder - who organized this arrangement, who sent the letters, and why to us in particular? I am wary this may be an ambush, though you have the word of a dragonborn wronging me will lead to your demise," he said with a snort, two strands of smoke curling from his nostrils. Notably, the dragonkin did not carry a cigar.
"You," he called to the carnival performers, eyes critically narrowing over their features. "You said the leader of your organization instructed you to greet individuals with letters such as the ones we-" Isoldus jerks a polished claw towards the other members of the party- "were delivered. I would like to know their name and title. They must have some stake in this, and I would be interested in having a conversation with them regardless."
"As for you," Isoldus growled, returning his fiery gaze to survey Marcus. "I have no doubts the Baron would attempt such a miserable endeavor, though I wonder; what prevents you from delivering there herself? And if you state danger, why the convoluted method of gathering support? Mercenaries and vagabonds are plenty in this sands," Isoldus said with a twinge of irritation, "And while I consider opposing the Baron payment enough for myself, I expect the others to request payment for their services."
Hugeo finally speaks to the others - to those who remained near the bar, anyway. "The letter says we'll find guidance here, as well as our first clue and step. Nothing about finding M himself. Maybe we're looking about this the wrong way." His voice, partially mechanic as the air is pushed out of the machine part of his body to pass through his vocal chords in the little human that's left of him.
Standing up, Hugeo walks towards the three standing in front of the large Dragonborn. They have a common enemy, so maybe they can work with each other for a while - lawman and pirate. "We were told we'll find guidance here. Could your leader be this guidance we were told about? What does he gain from just meeting us?"
Varielky | Emma
Isoldus:
The performer nods along as you speak, then responds.
"Lord Dante Arc is his name. He's the troupe leader of Cirque Solace, the travelin' group of minstrels, entertainers, and in his case, fortune tellers that we find ourselves part of."
Marcus gives a bit of a shrug.
"I'd do it myself, but I'd likely just end up killin' us both. The Sands are dangerous, and I'd rather send her along with a group of people more experienced with travelin' the Rails than take her with me. And believe me, I agree that payin' a group of mercenaries is a much more straightforward way of gatherin' support, but I didn't really have much to do with this. My name might start with the letter M, but I'm not the one who sent these. If I wanted to hide that it was me, I'd choose some other letter, like... uh... J, or something. As for payment... I'm sure I'll be able to find somethin'.
Hugeo:
While one performer converses with Isoldus, another shrugs.
"Lord Arc's a weird one, but he typically knows what he's doin'. If he says we do somethin', we follow, and it usually works out. His guidance has kept us afloat this long, so... well, long answer short, I got no clue, but he's probably got a reason."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
Concern and a hint of disbelief cross Dusty's face as Marcus recounts his problem, (what time of the day is it currently?)
" Here? every night? that.. is concerning, but it does give us an advantage in that we know where he might be at certain times. How protected is he? how does he arrive?"
Dusty inquires with an air of suspicion,
Insight on Marcus; 12
As more people begin introducing themselves and questioning the situation and the vague information provided by the note, Dusty remains Interested, listening and taking account of the new individuals weighing up who might be useful to him and who has the skills or power to hinder. At the mere mention of fortune tellers Dusty becomes distracted and visibly more excited.
Travin Tiller, Junk Dweller Bard, AURYN.
The Ironmaiden, Questionable Artificer, Descent into Avernus.
DM, Peacekeepers of Northmorrah
"His guidance, huh? Well, I guess it's worth trying. I don't see any other leads around here. Will you lead the way?" It could be some kind of trap, but... to what end? If it's the Baron trying to find those who might oppose him, it seemed like there weren't just a few of them, and many of them didn't even attempt to hide that.
Varielky | Emma
Winchester continues to lounge in his bar stool. Not having introduces himself by name yet, he simply switches his attention back and forth between cigar and ale as the 'conversation' plays out around him. Both the patchworkers intent and the dragonborns arguments cause him to slump back a little, closer with his back to the counter, and accompanied with another puff he pulls his hat down just a bit, extending the shadows falling over his face. His eyes fixate Marcus, however, trying to discern the thurthfullness if his words.
Insight to see if Marcus is being honest: 23
(Putting my original post up to be seen and I am not sure why but when I got up this morning I was no longer part of the pm chat thread.)
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Dusty:
Marcus does not appear to be lying, as he speaks.
"He usually came alone, but recently, my sister's been hidin' from him, and he's come with force. Unholy beasts, creatures of the night, roamin' the town. Well, roamin' it more than they usually do."
Hugeo:
"Sure, just let me know when you all are ready."
Winchester:
You can't seem to find anything that might suggest that Marcus is being dishonest.
Cormac: (sorry that I didn't respond to your post, I didn't notice that you had edited it with dialogue and actions. I'll make sure to add you back to the thread, I don't know why you were removed.)
The bartender shrugs, but takes the coin, pouring you a drink in exchange.
"I heard there was a listin', but I ain't heard much of it 'sides that. Doubt anyone'll actually do it, whole thing seems like a death trap t'me."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"More likely that the Baron put it up to entertain himself by either killing or making thralls of anyone that tries. He used to do the same thing with weapon tests. Heard he would offer prizes to whoever could make a weapon that actually hurt him." Cormac said as he pulled the drink closer, reaching into pocket to pull out a vial of a red liquid. He frowns at it before pouring a few drops into the mug and then stowing it away. "Thanks for the drink."
He goes back to his table, leading the metal hound with him as he climbs back into his chair.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
As Marcus finishes his tale Dusty, now satisfied that he speaks the truth, responds;
"this seems like a serious issue but if your sister has until tonight before he returns then at least we have a little time. That is, If, you manage to persuade some more of these misfits to join your cause. Before any of that though I am very interested to speak to this Fortune teller!
Marcus, if I take a few people from here and see what this fortune teller wants, Would you be so kind as to wait here in case this 'M' character turns up, wouldn't wanna miss all the action, you know?"
Persuasion (if needed); 22
Travin Tiller, Junk Dweller Bard, AURYN.
The Ironmaiden, Questionable Artificer, Descent into Avernus.
DM, Peacekeepers of Northmorrah
Cormac:
The bartender gives you a shallow nod, then returns to polishing his glass. He sees the red vial, but doesn't really react to it much.
Dusty:
"Yeah, I can stick around for a little bit. You go on, I'll be here."
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
"well then that settles it!"
Dusty slaps his palm down on the bar hard in excitement and then moves his way toward the table with the gaudily dressed circus performers, around which he finds Hugeo and Isoldus.
"you two have shown interest, would you like to accompany me to find out just what this fortune teller has for us?"
without waiting for much of a response and with a broad and beaming smile Dusty turns with a flourish to loudly address the rest of the bar patrons.
"Marcus Junior over there, has agreed to wait here for this 'M' person, But until then I'm off to see this mystic man, Who's with me!?"
Looking around the bar with an all too eager face Dusty waits upon any responses to the offer.
Travin Tiller, Junk Dweller Bard, AURYN.
The Ironmaiden, Questionable Artificer, Descent into Avernus.
DM, Peacekeepers of Northmorrah
(If everyone's ready to move on, I can move things along)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
And a loud one too. Difficult people to work with, but every pirate needs a crew. Especially when your target is the Baron. At the very least, the loud one could provide a good distraction, if needed. "Sure, I was planning to go meet their leader anyway." He doesn't want to stay there purposelessly until the so called "you all" are ready, but it didn't seem like there was much he could do. "I'm ready to go when you give the word." He tells the performer, then waits for their mark.
Varielky | Emma
Winchester quietly looks from Dusty over to Hugeo, back to Dusty, to Kronk, and then to the everyone else present in the pub. Seeing a chance to force some action, he bottom-ups his drink and then slams it down right next to where Dusties fist had hit the counter earlier. He slowly rises up from the barstool and begins to roll his shoulders as if to warm up, then rubs his palms together in anticipation, another malicious grin crossing his face. "Right on fellas! I bet none of y'all came in here hoping to catch more dust than ya brought in." He looks at Dusty. "Whaddaya say Mister, wanna lead the way?" Winchester offers. Swinging his arms to the side and pointing them to the door, he stands with a slight bow for a moment, waiting for people to move, intending to stay right behind them.
Isoldus's golden eyes narrowed over Marcus - though not in a critical sense; the dragonborn seemed to be calculating the merits of the mission and the dangers implied. At last, a grunt of affirmation escaped the towering dragonborn, curls of smoke wisping from his snout. He gave Marcus a singular nod. "Very well. I will accomplish what is necessary to oppose the Baron. My last question is - how competent is your sister in combat?"
Regardless of the answer, Isoldus turned from the man in favor of stalking towards the entrance. He paused as his attention was diverted by a comment from the exuberant man - the draconic creature angled his head only slightly before replying. "We may certainly accompany each other. I am curious of what brought us together, though - know this. If you, or any in the group, venerate the Baron or act as another of his thralls, little will stop my blade from relieving the burden of your skull from your shoulders." Speaking in a low rumble, the dragonborn's voice was calm and assertive, leaving no doubts in his ability to kill if necessary.
His tail scraped against the wooden floors, earning a sound roughly equivalent to a snake's rattle. As he passed by Winchester, however, a smirk fell on the dragonborn's features. "If requiring someone's back turned to strike with those little toys of yours is necessary, I'm afraid you don't deserve the title your visage seems to imply. Gunslingers," Isoldus grumbled. He had little respect for them.
Cormac listens to the others but stays quiet for the most, keeping an eye out as he goes back to tinkering with his rifle. As he hears the the dragonborn he shakes his head, muttering in dwarven to his steam powered hound. The machine moves to follow the dwarven dhamphir as he hefts his rifle.
"Nah. Someone with a quick and steady hand could put ya down with a well placed bullet before that blade of yours could be drawn. But enough with all that. I know what goes on with that thing and his company. So if ya plan to kill him then count me in.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Isoldus:
As you leave, Marcus shrugs in response to your question.
"She knows her way 'round a gun as well as any Wasterner... er, barrin' yourself, that is. But I wouldn't call her no gunslinger. If it comes down to a fight, I'd rather she run rather than stand and fight, but she might have other ideas."
Now assembled, your motley crew makes its way to the town's Railport, led by the three costumed fellows. They pile you onto a rickety handcar, an ancient relic held together by nothing but rust and sadness. It doesn't even have a proper Navvy, its steering limited to only left and right, while modern trains are capable of elevating or lowering their track, and twisting it in all sorts of dangerous ways. The leader of the pack sits at the helm, while the two others operate the walking beam. Soon, you round the wastebone the town rests on, and begin approaching the brightly-painted railtrain parked directly on the sands just off of the great hand's thumb, which is notably missing its proximal phalange, a bridge spanning the distance between it and the distal phalange, upon which a tall, old, slightly left-leaning house is built.
You arrive at the train, and you can see the words "Cirque Solace" painted on its side in bold script. The driver brings the handcar up to its side, securing it into a spot specifically made for holding it while the train is moving. You all clamber out, and are pointed towards the circus train's locomotive. Walking through the large train, you see a number of booths where all sorts of performers sit. Most of them are just sitting around, looking tired, a few of them are drinking from unmarked bottles of some sort of liquor. As you travel through the train's many cars, you see a few of them performing for some mildly amused customers, but business does not seem great here at Pointer.
Progressing farther, you eventually reach a car just behind the front of the train, which appears to be the end of the line. The sign above it reads 'fortune teller', and pushing back the curtains and entering reveals a car with its roof and walls painted black, with a roof covered with shining golden stars, golden lines linking these stars and forming shapes and figures. The room is lit only with a few candles burning with golden flame on the table set in the center of the room. Sitting in a cushy seat behind this table is a raven-haired half elven man, sporting a short goatee. He wears a purple coat and white undershirt that must have once been quite nice, but time and tide have not been kind to them. Notably, while one of his eyes is a bright blue, the other shines as gold as the paint on the roof of the car. As well as the candles, an engraved wooden box as well as a bottle and a number of small glasses sit on the table.
The man, presumably the Lord Dante Arc you have been told about, grins widely, possibly a little wildly, as you enter. He takes a swig from one of the glasses, grimaces slightly, then pops open the latch on the engraved box, revealing a deck of cards nestled within. He pulls them out and begins shuffling them, and his golden eye twinkles as he speaks.
"Welcome, welcome! Ye're the ones I was told of, aye? The ones wit the letter? Weel, let's get started then, aye?"
He speaks with a curious accent, one certainly not of this region. Despite his unkemptness and informal manner of speech, he still has a sort of regal bearing to him, and you suspect that the title of 'lord' may not in fact be a fake one.
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."
(Almost forgot! Image for Lord Dante Arc)
"Ignorance is bliss, and you look absolutely miserable."