As you play, a peal of thunder rumbles in the distance. Carmella's ears twitch, and she turns her head to the south, her lips drawn in a tight line. Wanton, having just beaten Fiorello meets her eyes, and she shakes her head minutely.
Composing her features, she turns to the owl and says, "My, my... Was that a JOKE master librarian? Your time with these facinorosi must have changed you more than we thought!"
Amaruve apears to count on his claws... You can imagine what he thinks 'let's see there was one. Now subtract one. That can't be good. Better call the accomplice...' He picks up the mark and rolls the pair. (Accomplice (2d6-1): 4 to beat 4.)... Amaruve scratches his head. That can't be right... (I distinctly remember some one mentioning that there would always be a winner =P)
(Just waiting on Amaruve and Perspicacious to finish up their final round in discord. In the meantime...)
Carmella beckons Fiorello over to her hay bale off to the side of the table. She continues to watch the bear and tiefling match wits, and she doesn't turn her head toward the owlakocra as she says, "It's a long, long road you're looking at, bibliotecario. Are you sure you've made up your mind?"
She doesn't wait for a reply. Instead, she gently takes Fiorello's wingtip in her small hands and says, "I've only ever done this reading palms before... I'm sure the principle is the same, though. If you'll allow me, I can give you a sense for what awaits you in the days and years ahead..."
She turns Fiorello's wing this way and that, murmuring to herself gently in goblin as her eyes slide in and out of focus. Her expression grows solemn and she passes the bird's "hand" back to him. She takes a deep breath, then exhales forcefully, snorting derisively as she does. "Well, it's not pretty, but that much you probably expected. The choice is yours. Will you hear what I have to tell, or will you face your future unaided?"
(The choice really is yours, Fiorello! If you want to learn something about your future, give your consent and roll a d20 here. Otherwise, I will roll for you and not tell you what's coming. Jean and Tony, you also have this option as you are currently out of the game. If you want Mama Tonyprano to read your fortune, just indicate it here)
The festive mood of the night leads Fiorello to give in to the less logical side of his brain and relax and open himself up to the mother of the family. He looks into Carmella's eyes with a grin, "Why sure my most esteemed hostess, please, if you can, tell me... what do you see in my future?" Outwardly, he grins and plays as if it is a game, but inwardly, against his normal logical id, he knows there are things that the rational mind cannot comprehend so some primordial sense of unknown fills his thoughts as he feels her touch his wingtip and listens to her tell his fortune. 10
Tony spins the dice around at the table, a bit of a thousand yard stare drilling into it, “Nah, Ma... I think it’s best I take what’s coming on instinct. Seems like knowing too much can be a burden sometimes, ya know?”
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
DM - Elustran Days ~ Fate/False Revelation
Rex'aliha - Hoard of the Dragon Queen ~ Mozu of Worms- The Stormpoint Mountains ~ Muireach Maon- Shepherd’s Crossing ~ Crownsguard - Storm King’s Thunder ~ Gunnar Wayland -Boats, Rocks, and Ruffians ~ POUF!- Ex-Ravens ~ Pascal LaRoux - Long Road Dragon Heist
Perspicacious gives an enthusiastic cheer as she rolls the last die, besting Amaruve to win the Chicanery tournament. "No hard feelings, Ama? I just have a knack for these things." She beams a smile at Wanton, "So... what were you saying about a magical item?"
There's a congenial smattering of applause around the loft in response to Perspicacious' victory. Wanton pulls his hand through his curly grey beard, smiling a little ruefully. "Ah, well. I suppose I should make good on my promise, then." He snaps his fingers, and appearing in the middle of the loft space in a flash of pink light is an intricately forged suit of armor. It is made of a red-gold metal that has been burnished to a glowing champagne hue. Deep scarlet flashes at its edges, and a single rose in full bloom is emblazoned across the chestplate. A dangerous whip made of some black metal and lined with silver thorns is looped at the armor's hip. These items are as brutal as they are beautiful.
"Ahhhhh," says Wanton, "The armaments of the empress of thorns. Worn by Empress Alia ver Draketh in the third war of the giants. This was one of the last armed conflicts of the old world before the breaking, but master Fiorello could tell you all much more about that than I..." He glances at the owl and winks, then turns his attention back to the armor, walking slowly around it with his hands clasped behind his back. "The Rose and Thorn, as they were called, were two of the most powerful pieces of magecraft ever brought into the old world. Not only is the armor all but impervious, but the whip," He reaches out his hand to carefully gesture toward the thorny cat-o-nine-tails, "Could unleash a deadly toxin. Furthermore, with a simple command," Wanton snaps his fingers yet again, and the armor springs to life. It unloops the whip and turns to regard each person in the room, clearly ready to strike in half a heartbeat. "The armor can function as a sort of invulnerable protector." He snaps again, and the armor is stilled. "Yes, it is very impressive. Without question, it is the jewel of my collection."
Silence hangs in the air. Then Wanton grins wolfishly and snaps again. The armor disappears in another pink flash of light. "And it's absolutely not up for grabs tonight, my dear! However! For the winner of my game and one of the deliverers of this island's young folk, I can offer you... hmmmm..." He twirls his beard, clearly deep in thought. Then a small, secret smile plays at his lips. His fingers snap, and appearing in his hand is a small ceramic jar. It is squat and round, no larger than an apple, and it is painted a light sky blue. Puffy white clouds surround its surface, and out of the corner of your eye they occasionally appear to move ever so slightly. "THIS is another of my favorites pieces. I gift it to our winner in the hopes that she will one day return to grace us with her beauty, bravery, and wit once again."
(Perspicacious, you have received the Subtle Jar! This magical object can contain an abstract concept. It will require some experimentation, but Wanton is sure you will figure it out!)
Carmella looks sad for a moment, then whispers into Fiorello's ear.
Thunder rolls again, this time a bit closer.
Fiorello sits back in his chair as his brow raise with concern from what he's just heard. "My dear lady, whatever might you mean? Ah... a puzzle perhaps? It stops, but does not yet end." He scratches the back of his head, as the sadness in her eyes make him wonder...
The wind outside dies down. In the moments that follow, you have time to reflect on the peace of this world you find yourselves stranded in. Is it perfect? Decidedly not, but you can see how you could make a home for yourselves here.
You know something? It's actually VERY quiet outside...
Carmella stands from her hay bale. Brushing the straw from her dress, she turns back to Tony. "Looks like it's time to say goodbye to your little sister, Tony. Will you walk your mother outside like a good boy?"
There's crowd outside the barn. Men and women clutch one another as they stare up in horror. The children wave enthusiastically at the sky.
Carmella holds her shawl tight against her body, protecting it from the whipping winds. Her beehive hairdo is ripped completely free, her blonde locks waving wildly. She doesn't follow the gaze of the crowd. Her eyes are closed tight, and her lips move in silent conversation.
In the sky, Porphyrion hovers not 100 ft above you. Clouds swirl around him as lightning lances across his chest. If you can tear your eyes away for a moment, you notice the shape of a small goblin girl coalescing in front of you. She is made of soft indigo light. Gurgling happily, Burble whisks from Amaruve's hat to greet his friend. She smiles a secret smile and holds out her hand to gently cradle the little ghost. She looks at the spirit fondly as she speaks.
"Porphyrion and I have been talking. A lot. He's ready to leave, now." Tonya looks at you all with her large shining eyes. "I talked to your blue angel friend, too. They said you missed your chance to leave. I think... I think we can all help each other." She walks over to her brother, her form shifting ever so slightly out of frame as her steps hover half an inch above the grass. She places a tiny hand on his cheek. "Tony, Pory and I will be stuck together for a while. He can't leave this place without me. I have to go... Will you... Will you come with me?"
(What do you all say? Will you take up Tonya on her offer?)