"With what?" Hugeo asks. He is mostly interested in the man's eyes, though his gold doesn't look like actual gold. "Guidance, I don't mind. Fortune telling, however, does not interest me. Death is all that awaits me - that I know. Be it mine or another's. Besides, I wouldn't want to bind my fate to the telling of a man." The part-man machine stands with his arms crossed, a bit sceptical about all this, now that they're here. "Or, perhaps, are you the one called M?" 

Kronk looks the fortune-teller up and down with a curiously blank expression on his face. "Cards death bring. But death is welcoming all when the Ultimate Cold crowns itself Ruler of All Things. Manner of welcome be what is important so, card seer, what manner do you see?"

Cormac wants to snort at the thought of a fortune teller at first but ends up stopping himself. Sure it seemed like hogwash to the dhamphir but with magic many things could be done. With little else to do he moves up to the table, the mechanical hound following closely behind.

Prestidigitating the dust and sand off of his suit and taking a moment to make himself look presentable dusty takes in a deep breath before pushing through to the front.

Disregarding the hesitant positions of his new acquaintances dusty excitedly pushes a hand forward, and blurts out;

"Oh me! me please, do me first.... ahem, um.. I mean, we have questions, obviously, and you seem interested in us for some reason and so we are ..um.. merely here to find out what you want... But also if you wanted to ply your trade I suppose, well it would be rude to  decline, y'know personally"

"M?" The half-elf chuckles as he shuffles. "No, no, no. Just a man, just a man. And if ye're seekin' guidance wit me, ye'll find it in the cards. I suspect my part in this grand game is t'give ye a hint of what's t'come. Witout guidance, ye'll be lost as t'where ye'll want t'go. But my art may be able t'show you the way. If ye care t'see what awaits ye... just draw."
Lord Arc finishes shuffling, and quickly deals five cards out before you, in a plus shaped formation. The fortune teller's eye glitters with unnatural light as he places the cards, and once finished he grabs a glass and a bottle, and pours himself out a drink.
"Take a card. Any card."

At the reveal of the cards dusty seems slightly disappointed, although not completely, still with an air of giddy energy dusty takes the top most card of the plus formation and flips it over, he then steps back letting his new acquaintances take theirs.

As he waits he studies his own card laying face up on the table, but try as he might he cannot derive the true meaning on his own, he resigns himself to waiting until all others have their cards before hearing the guidance to come.

As the others collect their cards dusty cranes his neck in odd directions over shoulders or under arms where he can to see a glimpse of what the others may have, he feels small in comparison to Isoldus and Kronk, and positively brittle and skinny in harsh comparison to the reinforced metal framed Hugeo and the dwarvish stature of Cormac, Dusty settles himself next to the relatively normal looking human Winchester as he regards his new monsterous gang and wonders whether this guidance will intertwine their fates or whether destiny really had left this plane of waste and ruin along with the gods.

As the card is flipped, Lord Arc downs another glass, and grimaces in pain as his golden eye flares up, glowing with bright light. The card rises up out of Dusty's hands, and all can see the moving image of a terrified prist holding up a holy symbol as the jaws of an undead swarm sink into him, tearing his flesh apart. Lord Arc grunts in pain as his eye glows brighter, and golden tears begin welling up out of it, leaving shining streaks across his face.
"Nine of relics. I... see an artifact. Blessed even in this godless land. Seek it... agh! Seek it in a room of riches, where the Ghoul King makes his home."

The eye flickers out, and the card drops lifeless to the ground, no longer animated. Lord Arc breathes heavily, wiping the now faded tears from his face.
"And that's why I stay drunk for these things. Next!"

Isoldus stalked through the hordes of performers and demoralized citizens wasting away their lives on gambling and drink. Sure, they had nothing better to look forward to. Isoldus narrowed his eyes - not in apprehension, but in acute disappointment at their plight. The Baron had no business ruling over lives this way. If one thing was certain, Isoldus knew how to rule. Strictly? No doubt. With an iron, red-scaled fist? Certainly. Fair? Definitely, and an area where all can thrive under his command. 

And - perhaps most disappointingly of all, not a single other dragonborn in the sands so far. Part of Isoldus's eroded heart had hoped of one stumbling across a group of eclectic performers. Evidently not. 

The premise of fortune telling resulted in nothing aside from an amused smirk played upon the dragonborn's snout. He crossed his arms and leveled his gaze over the man, a mixture of bored and mildly entertained. "Your business is guesswork and baseless prediction, which is why I avoid affiliating with your type of people. Battles are not won on instinct or belief - strategy and arms reserve that right," Isoldus critically rumbled. "Similarly, destiny is forged with blood and sand, not foreseen, though I will humor you." 

Isoldus leaned forward and grasped the nearest, presumably offered card between two polished claws, if only to expedite the process along. He was tasked with a job - and Isoldus was never late to a duty he had signed his name to. 

Lord Dante Arc lets a wide grin spread across his face as Isoldus speaks, revealing teeth stained by his drinking habits. He lets out a slow laugh, lacking in much mirth. Evidently, his previous good mood and jovial expression have been wiped away by his previous prediction.
"I agree, dear dragonborn. Mere belief wins nae battles. Yet at the same time, I somewhat wish I were still capable of't. Belief is soon forgotten, when ye have all the answers. If ye find my predictions t'be false, make sure t'let me know, I'd be gladder t'hear of't than ye know."

The revealed card shows a crashed train, its contents and passengers strewn across the Sands. The centerpiece of the illustration is a vulture, tearing the eye out of a dwarf's severed head, as more circle above.
"The vulture! Your enemy's enemy can be found among Medusa's twisting roots, alongside his feathered kin."

 "Grand game eh?" Winchester mutters to himself. "Do like the sound o' that..." Observing the others rather reserved reactions, Winchester lets Dusty pass to take the first card. He then watches the card come to life, his eyes wide, his grin growing even wider. With growing excitement, Winchester edges a little closer to the table, this time to take a look at Isoldus's card.

After hearing the foretelling attributed to the vulture, he steps up next to the dragonborn, slightly lifting his hat towards Lord Arc. "Now now, ya know how to pull a spectacle." He takes a look at the cards left on the table. With Dusty haven taken the uppermost one, and Isoldus taking the bottom card, the three pieces left of the cross now form a horizontal line. Winchester glances to where Isoldus is standing at his side. "Would ya look at that, ain't thinking high of me tools," he says while padding the holster on his hip, "now hes shooing some cardboard. A stranger to the wastes thinking he knows its ways."

Then, Winchester turns back to the group, seizing everyone up one by one. He raises his arms in an embracing gesture. "What a day to conquer fate, ay" With that, Winchester closes his eyes, slightly chuckling to himself. "What did the kind Lord say...Just. Draw." He says the last words slowly and distinctly, as if savoring the taste, the sound of his raspy voice barely more than a whisper. Then, several things all happen at once. In a motion so fast its hardly more than a blur, he draws a revolver from his holster and begins spinning it around his trigger-finger, while simultaneously turning around on the spot. His eyes still closed, Winchester holds his hand over the remaining cards, retracing their line with the gun still spinning. His hand continues to hover over the cards until the gun finally comes to a halt, the barrel pointing straight down at the card in the middle. 

Winchester opens his eyes, and, without the slightest surprise, smirks and mutters "Bullseye." He picks up the card with the back facing up and, while holstering his weapon, shows it to Lord Arc, before turning it around to have a look for himself.

"Any card, you say?" Hugeo thinks while he sees the others pick their cards. He had seen those for whom cards were equivalent to their hands. With unerring precision, they could choose the way the cards would be shuffled, while seemingly making an ordinary, even boring shuffle. Who was to say this man here wasn't the same? So far, he didn't hear anything special. Who can say these weren't bits of information he knew already, and the cards were dealt to match? The dancing lights were a neat trick, but that could be staged as well... probably. "What if I take the bottom one... from over there?" He points with his hand at the shuffled deck, rather than the cards that they were given. "That one is also a card, innit?"

  Cormac watches this with a bit of amusement, raising his eyebrow when he noticed the pained expression on the fortune teller. He moves towards the table to draw a card but steps aside as others go before him to take a card. He moves off to the side to wait and see what the cards the others pick up will be.

As Winchester reaches for the center card, Lord Arc smiles.
"Ah, good choice. Knowledge of where ye can find your foe within his mansion will be quite useful!"
The card is flipped, revealing... a queen of clubs, from an ordinary playing card deck. While it initially looked like the card was much larger, and had a similar backing to the other tarot cards, Winchester holds in his hands a very ordinarily sized and backed playing card.
"Uhhm... well, that ain't happened before. I'm afraid I've got no idea how to interpret that one, ye'll have to go in blind in that respect. Feel free t'keep that card, I dunno where I got it."

Hugeo points to the deck, and Lord Arc shrugs.
"Take it if ye like, but beware... ye may not like what ye see."

Kronk will wait until the last card lies unturned, reaching out and flipping it over he’ll rumble, “Deaders walkin’, warm livers dying, blood drunk stones, bes I sees. Lightening speakings, burning wood and bones; a weirdling doom is come, cold to all.”

Ho, he expected to be told it was not an option. But, now, he wonders whether it is an actual reading, in which case he'll mess it up by picking a new card. But, when the queen of hearts show up, his doubt disappears. It seems this one's tricks were not perfect, or too perfect. "Then, I pick that one." Hugeo says and proceeds to draw the bottom card from the deck.

Hugeo reaches for the bottom of the deck, and slips the card out of it. Flipping it over, it reveals an antlered man, aiming a rifle at a great coiling wormlike creature that bears down upon him. As the rifle fires, a great flash turns the scene to white, and all that is left is the vacant exoskeleton of the worm, lying on the sands.
"A great weapon! One... one capable of injuring even The Baron! Find it where the Worm's bones lay."

After witnessing this, Kronk looks back at the two remaining cards, waiting for someone to take the other... only to realize that there is but one remaining. As it is the last one remaining, Kronk flips it over as well. Evidently weary from the first four cards, Lord Arc cries out as his eye flares up again. The card shows an unconscious dwarf that doesn't look all that unlike the Baron, lying beside a spilled bottle of liquor, as well as a fountain pen and a bottle of ink.
"Aagh! I see... another treasure. Right under the Baron's nose, though he knows not its location. Seek a cask of the finest liquor, now drained and filled with his knowledge."

And with that, no more cards remain. Breathing heavily, Lord Arc begins to gather up the cards. His golden eye, no longer glowing, is heavily bloodshot, and his hair is matted with sweat. Lord Arc reaches for the glass again, then goes for the bottle instead, draining it all in a few gulps.
"And that's... that. Bloody hell. There's a reason I stick t' one a day at most. I hope ye've seen all ye'd like to see, cos ye'll get no more out of me. Unless ye'd like to pay for a normal reading, I can do that for ye. Though I can't quite guarantee the accuracy of my predictions in that case. Feel free t' entertain yourselves here at the Cirque Solace, ye'll find that our arts provide other benefits, besides mere entertainment."
Lord Arc gingerly places the cards in the box, then snaps it shut, locks it, and promptly swallows the key.

With a nervous shifting, Dusty looks between Cormac and Dante, then he uneasily clears his throat as if calling attention to something without wanting to draw attention to himself directly..

Lord Arc shrugs.

"I've got five cards for you, no more, no less. Three treasures, an enemy of the baron, and... well, I was trying to divine the Baron's future location, but... looks as if he's got wards. If ye really want somethin' go ahead and ask me a question, my magic's less potent witout the cards, but less painful too. I'll try and give ye an answer."

Winchester still stands next to the table, holding up the queen of clubs with a slight frown on his face. "To each their own huh..." he mumbles. Then he shrugs and makes the card disappear by sliding it into one of his sleeves. Quite notably, his grin does not reappear, indicating that the whole scenery did somehow affect him in one way or another. Winchester turns around and walks towards the door, seemingly lost in thought for a moment. As he reaches the exit he seems to snap out of it, looking back at the rest to see if they'd follow. "C'mon folks, best not to overstay our welcome."
Realizing just now that not everyone's had a turn yet, he does wait for Cormac to see what happens next.

"Hmm then let me try this. Can ya tell me was it the Baron or one of his pets that left me like this? Me ma never would admit which it was and changed the story to fit whichever was more convenient at the time." Cormac asks, making sure not to go into more detail about just what he was, even though he knew while rare it was not unheard of to hear there being other dwarven dhamphirs roaming about.