Lost Mine of Phandelver

The party steps into the tent and the man quickly replaces the flap and ties it off securely. The interior is mostly bare, save for a small table in the center set with a minature chest, a book and a stand for the lantern he is holding, upon which he sets the meager light source. The lantern flickers casting strange shadows about the space. From inside, the party can not hear any of loud sounds of the carnival, even though seemingly only a thin sheet of canvass seperates them from the commotion outside.

"We're safe in here, I think..." says the man, "...the lantern protects us from Isolde's notice." Vanzaren alerts at the mention of the ringmaster's name. "A few seconds more though, and she would have sensed my presence...Harlan Willoughby, by the way. You probably don't remember me..." he says to Vanzaren, "I was only a boy when you escaped the first time. Ever since, I have been looking for a way to do the same...."

VANZAREN'S EYES ONLY:

"You are all in grave danger," says Harlan, "everyone in Phandalin is in grave danger..."

"In what way? What exactly are you trying to warn us about?" Asks Rigel as he notes Vans reaction but doesn't mention it.

"Ya, I know," Vanzaren says. "Kinda figured that out myself. But... how?"

Marcon clenches his jaws, and narrows his eyes after the man's declaration. And yet, for all of his apparent anger and renewed distrust, he would remain quiet, attentive, and wary while others did the questioning. A brief but studious glance is thrown Vanzaren's way as well. But, if Marcon had any misgivings of the half-elf as well, it hardly showed, if at all.

'You n..know each..o..other?" Says Garet intrigued

Ronk leans down to whisper to Vanzaren. "You were in the weird circus? Not a regular one what was weird in normal ways?"

The man sensed the confusion on the others' faces. "This circus, it is not a traveling sideshow meant to break up the monotony of boring settlement life...it is actually a kind of, uh, well..." the man struggled to put into words what he was thinking, "...it's basically a sort of internplanery-multiversal judge, jury, executioner and prison. Mysterious, dark powers created this dimension which roams from plane to plane, land to land and settlement to settlement in search of those who have escaped justice. Isolde, the ringleader, is the appointed ruler of this realm. She decides where to go and then the mists engulf that place, temporarily trapping it and all its inhabitants. While the carnival distracts those around town, Isolde and her spies magically seek out those who have done terrible wrongs for which they have not been brought to justice and either kills them, enslaves them or brings them to ruin in some other hideous fashion. Eventually, she releases the carnival's hold on whatever settlement it is in and life in that place goes back to normal, save for a few missing souls..."

"You are all here because Phandalin is being judged," says Harlan. "However, Isolde doesn't always get it right...she cares not for whether you are actually guilty or innocent, only whether the apparence of your guilt or innocence. I was an orphan on the streets of Calimport - had to steal in order eat...in order to survive. A fellow pickpocket murdered someone for a loaf of bread and as he shared it with me, he mage-handed the bloody weapon into my pack...the carnival came to town the next day and I've been Isolde's prisoner ever since. About ten years ago, an evil wizard met his doom while the carnival engulfed Luskan. I lifted his spellbook and a few other magical items that now keep me hidden from Isolde while I try to figure out how to escape her circus of nightmares. And it just so happens that the only other person who has ever escaped Isolde's carnival is now standing right in front of me..." says Harlan as he brings his gaze back to meet Vanzaren's.

Trying to wrap his head around what was just said, Rigel releases a long slow breath through pursed lips as he runs a hand through his hair. "Wheeew. Even though you maaay be innocent there may be others here who deserve their fate. How do we rescue the innocent without freeing the guilty? Looks like you're gonna have to tell us your story Van." Rigel looks at Vanzarens for guidance.

"No one here deserves to be trapped like this," Van says, still looking at the man. "I'm sorry."

"This ain't right... This aint' right at all." Marcon said, shaking his head and looking disgusted over the whole turn of events. "I'm with Van on this one. Even if there are guilty muckers among the lot, no dark carnival apparently being ruled by a lunatic should be allowed to judge anyone or thing." He said frankly, then glanced over to the tent entrance. "Though... s'pose that's neither here nor there... hmn... Ya say'n a whole lot 'bout escape'n, but.. ain't noone over the past ten years come close to fix'n this whole mess?"

Ronk lens against his spear and mutters, almost to himself. "Brother Norzin and Brother Ekido came across a beautiful woman, unable to cross the street because of the mud. Brother Norzin carried her across and that night Brother Ekidu confronted him for breaking their order's rules and touching a woman. Brother Norzin said 'I left her there. Are you still carrying her?'" He blinks as though something clicked in his head. "Ooooohhhh... Life is situational. Law that prevents the greater good is out of balance..." He looks at the others. "The guilty avoiding a punishment is right if the punishment is wrong. We should help."

"It would seem to me that our course remains the same. Find Isolde. Where do we find her and how do we get close?" Rigel ponders.

"It's not that easy Rigel," Vanzaren says

"Well since you don't seem to want to share what you know about this place it's the best we have to work with." Rigel answers back to Van. He pokes his head out of the tent and tries to discern which way will take him to the main tent. 

Perception : 12

"Isolde is extremely powerful," says Harlan, "you don't want to try to confront her like this. While she is technically mortal like you and me, the Dark Powers has vested her with near demigod-like powers to control this realm. Trying to right the wrongs of the carnival is a tall order...perhaps even too tall for even the most powerful mages in Faerun. I think escape is the best we can hope for, but we will have to trick Isolde into opening the interplane borders between here and Phandalin. I have collected all manner of magical things over the years to try and help..." the man motions towards the table where several fantastic-looking items are displayed atop a fine velvet cloth.

Realizing both that he has no clue as to what direction to even go and that they're probably right given the scope of the circus, Rigel pulls his head back in and resigns himself to escaping instead of stopping. He goes back to peruse the items laid out on the table.

Marcon's nodded glumly having half-expected the answer. But though a glance is again given to Vanzaren given the elf's history with the strange turn of events, the ex-farmhand merely shook his head, and turned his attention to the display. Seeing the half-elf determined to give half-answers at best on the current circumstances, there was no real point to pry. Or so the still very much exhausted Marcon opted to accept, if only to spare the brain power. "Aight, so... what does any of this stuff do anyhow pretell, and how it's gonna help? 'cause I ain't gonna lie. A lotta this is... is kinda go over my head as-is." He asked plainly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Ronk grunts. "I don't think leaving people we just tried to protect to a weird circus is very good..." He leans over the table to look over the items as well. "If these can help us escape, why can't we try to use them to help everyone, Mr. Clown?"

"Please, call me Harlan," says the man to Ronk, "Your friend here is the only person ever known to escape. Repeating that feat is a long shot at best. The chances of us doing so as a group - with all of us surviving - are infinitesimally remote...but liberating the entire circus from Isolde's grasp...unthinkable. Remember, there are those trapped here who truly deserve it, ones guilty of the most despicable deeds imaginable. Others have been here so long that they have all but forgotten who they were before, and others still have become so accustomed to the horror of this realm that it is now all they know and may not desire to leave even if they had the chance. In fact, they may even try to prevent those who would leave..."

Harlan directs his attention to the table of marvelous and mysterious-looking items. "These are the things I have scavenged from some of Isolde's most powerful victims...they all bear tremendous power, but alas I cannot use them alone - it will require...a team..."

OOC: in addition to what appears to be a spellbook, the table is set with the following items:
an iron war pick that looks ancient but is free of rust
a rod with a flanged head and six bejeweled buttons along its shaft
a gold ring set with a large square-cut sapphire
a slender longsword bearing elvish runes along its blue-tinted blade
a beautiful brooch made of lapis lazuli with golden filigree

Marcon still looked a touch disbelieving at Harlen's claims. Yet, the more he heard, the harder it became not to start bowing his head in grudging acceptance of at least some of it. While it hadn't been much personally so far, they had seen enough to suggest having seen the frozen tip of a great icerberg worth of trouble and danger. Thus resigned, Marcon began to reach out for the iron war pick, figuring it fit him better. But then, he stopped short of touching it, and looks pointedly at Harlen.

"Ya said they had tremendous power, but.... they ain't curse are they as well? Or were you not able to figure that much out?" He asked warily.