Your mind spins with tidbits you remember about Monmurg; the fortified city stands as the Capital of the Hold of the Sea Princes, it is politically unstable, recently (within the last couple of years) Prince Jeon II of Monmurg assumed the throne... Your mind whirls attempting to recall more pertinent information; over the years it became synonymous with piracy and the trading of slaves.
Rumours enter your mind of a sinister group, operating covertly throughout the region, referred to simply as the Scarlet Brotherhood. It is believed that much of the discord and instability found within Monmurg can be attributed to their presence. You suspect that if Boyd was at all associated with the group he would certainly keep that fact a secret.
The Skurra give you a wide berth as you begin shooting off the eldritch blasts - they seem amused at your display, yet also a little fearful of your power (and aim!).
You notice Tindal's painted face grinning widely at your display, it is clear to see that he is impressed.
A flash of confusion briefly crosses Tindal's face as Meresaa mentions she does not recognise the stars. "Do you mean to tell me you come from another... world?" His voice is a little different, there is less pomp behind his words. Quickly maintaining his barker act, he continues not waiting for an answer, "I guess, if you have travelled far, then every new place must seem like a new world! Why I myself have never stepped foot in the city of Rel Astra, for example, I am sure that would appear like a completely different world compared to Saltmarsh!". He chuckles.
Tindal stares in wonder as Nick Nack fires off Eldritch Blast after Eldritch Blast. He claps excitedly, "Bravo! Bravo! What a splendidly fantastic show! I knew Lady Isolde would be able to find capable folk from all over Oerth!". He pats Nick Nack on the back, "Trust me, Mr Nack, if you were dead, you are no longer. How is the spiced wine and food, I hope it's to your liking."
Audibly clearing his throat, Tindal declares, "I trust you all will not partake too much of the wine... worry not the chance will come later! It's just that there is someone you really must meet. Someone who can shed some light on why you all are here. The Carnival Mistress - Lady Isolde."
Seemingly against her better judgement, Meresaa lets out a bark of delighted laughter as she watches the light show.
"Well, little friend, what convinces you that your memories aren't the dream after all? Consciousness is a fickle thing and certainty is only as good as your current assumption." She finally pushes her hood back to reveal a completely smooth and hairless head with a distinct lack of ears. A broad smile glints in the firelight. "Given enough time to think on it, I'm sure I could find some sort of similarities between myself and a dead crow, but for the moment nothing comes to mind. I am a researcher and crafter — an inventor if you will. But I quite like your pyrotechnics and would very much like to study your methods, should we have the opportunity."
She looks about the area illuminated by the campfire and squints to see what she can beyond its reach before turning back to the group.
"I've never heard of any of these places you've named: this Keoland, or Flanaess, or Oerth... I assume I'm not in Ravnica anymore. Perhaps I'll find a map at some point to try and orient myself. Are all here able to perform wonderous feats like our Mr. Nack?"
"Do you mean to tell me you come from another... world?"
Meresaa shrugs her narrow shoulders. "At this point you probably know as much as I. Quite possibly more as you all seem relatively at home here. Why don't we meet this mistress of yours who apparently has the power to summon us from our various corners of existence? Perhaps she can shed some light on the subject and offer answers to our multitudinous questions."
Are all here able to perform wonderous feats like our Mr. Nack?
Boyd shrugs at this, indicating that he can't. "Not me. Just a simple leatherworker, me."
He puts down his empty cup and politely nods a farewell to the Skurra, then agrees with the Meresaa that it's about time to meet this Lady Isolde who apparently has the power to summon people from all around Oerth. "Aye, let's see what Lady Isolde brought me - er, us - here for. I owe her a pumpkin for saving me some travel. Was heading out this way anyway."
Faila listens carefully to the discussion, but the moment Meresaa puts food into her hands, she seems quite oblivious to all else, downing the meal with all the voraciousness of a wild animal. When all food that anyone cares to hand to her has been quickly and hungrily devoured, she accepts one of the steaming cups of spiced wine being passed around, but, holding it in her scrap-covered hands, smells it somewhat cautiously. One sip, and then two, is enough to make her feel warm and dizzy all at once, and so she doesn't drink any more, but watches the fireworks of Eldritch Blast mingling with the banter of her new companions as they discuss worlds and destinies temporal and eternal.
Though she stays silent, her large dark eyes roving back and forth, she feels that familiar little wellspring of joy inside of her that she would get when seeing a family together around a fire, or a group of dwarves working and singing together in a mine, or a village that rushed to help a neighbor pull up a barn. While this crew is strange, and magical, with colors and shapes new to her, the musical rhythm of connection and bond is still the same, or at least, recognizable.
She manages a beaming smile only at Boyd, still half under Meresaa's cloak, holding the cup of hot wine as she edges just a little closer to the fire.
looking Faila & Nikita’s ways : “what do yah know! They gave me two (light) crossbows! Either of you need one? Never know what crazy shit we’re gonna get into, they don’t play around now do they. Always in the edge of life and death. That’s where the excitement is… and all the existential pain.”
“and Boyd Ol’ boy! Don’t sell yourself short! You sure you don’t have any unique skills the rest of us would make a fool of ourselves attempting? If not, I bet you’ll find yours soon enough.” Nick casts a visible mage hand and sends it Boyd’s way, jokingly making the gesture of trying to pickpocket him but failing.
Nikita murmurs "Thumbtack," and her owl wings away in a swift, wide circle, scouting the perimeter of their area before they are to meet this Lady Isolde. Looking for anyone that seems to be surreptitiously watching or eavesdropping on the party, returning to her shoulder when done. If I'm walking into a trap, I want to see who is trapping me.
Owl perception, at advantage for anything seen or heard due to Keen Hearing and Sight feature: 12
She gives the gnome a brief smile and slight shake of the head at the offer of a light crossbow, touching the longbow slung behind her shoulder.
Nikita still holds out her hand out in a polite greeting to the lurker who seemed to be part of their group but had not yet spoken. Perhaps another traveler from a different world?
Her mind is racing and her ever-present fear ebbs for the moment. Meresaa is from Ravnica? Nikita is fairly certain she has never heard of Ravnica. Could it truly be another world or plane of existence? So many questions. So much to learn. From all of these strangers, even about Monmurg from Boyd. Strange too that Nikita (and Boyd) should share a language with Meresaa, which might not even be the case with those from faraway parts of her own world of Oerth. Could it be that all these different worlds are alternate realities or planes with a common origin, or that interplanar travel is common, resulting in some levelling and normalization of languages and custom? Nikita feels a twinge of the same thrill and eagerness to learn that she had felt at the start of her training, which seems as if it were a hundred years ago instead of just a few.
And interesting that Tindal could not hide his surprise at some of us being not from Oerth. We are not exactly who he was expecting.
She quips at the jester. "Seems as if we are providing you amusement. Should it not go the other way around?"
"Ahh yes - Ravnica" Tindal says, amused, "One of the Janasib Islands, if I'm not mistaken. Why you have certainly travelled far Meresaa! I am sure Lady Isolde will be able to help you out, though I do not think the power that brought you here is hers alone."
Tindal seems genuinely pleased to see Faila fairing better now that she had a bite to eat and some wine. "Make sure to grab a jacket from our Skurra friends hereand wrap up warm!"he says, concern in his voice. One of the older Skurra chuckles and shakes his head, "Don' worry Miss, we'll sort you out." The old man ventures off to a nearby wagon briefly before returning with a patchwork cloak; it looks colourful and quaint, lovingly handmade and cared for, it smells of lavender and spice. "We takes care of people here, love," he explains, his voice is gruff yet kind - like that of a caring grandfatherly figure.
As Nick Nack produces the crossbows, Tindal's face shows a little concern, "Hopefully won't be needing those quite this moment - no sir! Fear not, the Lady Isolde can surely assist if provisions are what you require."
When he hears Nikita's quip, Tindal chuckles, "I believe I might find myself out of a job! Perhaps you could be the barker and I'll cure the camp of the..." He instantly stops short, briefly dropping his act, looking around in panic. "Best we get going now,"he says humourlessly.
Thumbtack flies over the Carnival, though it is still early crowds are beginning to gather. In the centre a plain-looking wagon sits with a giant man, at least 10 feet tall, standing guard.
Other than the main tent, Thumbtack spots another number of interesting locations within the Carnival; you see signs standing next to tents of different sizes and colours, among them there are highly decorative signs reading, 'The Hall of Horrors', 'Madame Fortuna's Fortune-Telling', and 'The Troupers' Gallery'.
Your familiar does not sense any immediate danger or traps.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Boyd send a friendly smile Faila's way and says, "Boy, you really went to town on that. You act like you haven't eaten in days." But then he frowns a little, wondering if that might not actually be the case. Then he jovially says, "Best grab one for the road. They were good, eh?"
Boyd then responds to the quirky Gnome, "Well, I've been workin' on this for a while when I'm bored in the evenings." He plucks a copper coin from a pouch and attempts to flips it between his knuckles in a fluid grace. Sleight of hand for his simple, nonmagical parlor trick: 26 The coin spins out of control and lands in the mud. He picks it up and wipes it off. "Well. I was right. You would look a right fool if you tried to do what I just did." He chuckles, maybe slightly embarrassed for having tried.
When he puts his coin away, Nick's mage hand comes groping for his pouch and he attempts to bat it away, though his hands go right through it, and he says, "Oi! Get away from me purse, you little goose. I got me eyes on you."
Boyd seems impressed by the foreign lands all these folks came from, though he could hardly name any towns outside of his immediate vicinity. Rather uneducated as he is, any earthshattering revelations seem to be lost on him.
Meresaa frowns and cocks her head slightly as she helps Faila with the proffered cloak. "If Ravnica is, in fact, an island, it would be the largest island I've ever heard of. In truth, I've never traveled beyond the Tenth District, but from the upper levels of Nivix I can see well beyond those borders with no large body of water in sight!"
She straightens and regards Tindal directly. "Indeed. It seems this enigmatic Lady Isolde may be the only one here with answers," she replies as she begins to follow.
Faila accepts the warm patchwork cloak, and the way her eyes sparkle as she looks at it, it's clear that the colors really catch her eye. She wraps it close around her, breathing in the scent, and then manages to remember her manners. "Thank you, Skurra!" she says. Her voice sounds a little hoarse when she speaks up, as if she's not very accustomed to using it. She smiles quietly at Meresaa.
"Fantastic, fantastic!" Tindal declares, clearly ignoring Meresaa's further musings as to whether Ravnica is indeed an island in the north-westerly region of Oerth. "Yes, that's right Madam Meresaa! The enigmatic, and dare I say charismatic, Carnival Mistress awaits!".
Tindal begins leading you through the Carnival, the morning is still young yet crowds of local Saltmarshians are already beginning to gather. "Pay no heed to the Georges, friends" he declares before explaining, "that's what we call non-Carnival folk, see. Oh, most Georges are good, well-mannered folk, but I make sure they keep their greasy hands to themselves. They don't fool old Tindal, no sir-ee."
"I generally herd each group of Georges around the big ring and generally show off ten of our acts before I drop them off in the Hall of Horrors for the big squeeze! The Hall of Horrors is Pacali's crew. He's an odd sort that Professor Pacali, take care 'round 'im." Tindal says, doing his best to make the Hall of Horrors seem intimidating.
"Now look to your left, towards the centre of the Carnival. Do you see that fairly ordinary-looking wagon? That wagon belongs to the Lady Isolde, our dear Mistress of the Carnival. Holds all of us rapscallions together, she does. Have mind though, her right-hand man is likely to be at her side - Hermos the Gaint, they call him. Tall fellow."
As you approach the plain-looking wagon you see Hermos standing guard, he must be at least 10 feet tall. "Tindal!"he bellows by way of greeting, "Who's that ragtag band yer leadin'? More Georges? You know the Carnival Mistress don't jus' meet with any old..." Tindal waves his hand dismissively. "No, Hermos - you great oaf! These are our special visitors, that are here about the situation." Tindal explains.
((Hermos))
"Well, why didn't yer bleedin' say!"cries the heavily muscled giant, "Right this way, if yer ple...". Once more Hermos is interrupted, but this time not by Tindal. Emerging from the wagon steps a lady dressed head to toe in a ringmaster's suit, complete with top-hat; rather than red it is a deep, dark blue. She is pale-skinned with a slender frame, has long black hair, and has a dark, penetrating gaze with deep blue eyes - the Lady Isolde.
((The Lady Isolde - Carnival Mistress))
"Honoured guests - please, welcome," Isolde says, her voice smooth yet commanding. At a guess, you believe she is in her twenties, though she is likely older than that. Hanging from her hip is an ornate looking longsword. "I trust that dear Tindal has taken care of you so far,"Tindal looks abashed and nervously fidgets as Isolde mentions his name, quite the change from his normal demeanour. "I am sure you must all have questions," she says looking each of you in the eyes, "I will answer what I can, but I believe that it may help if I show you why I have called you all here."
Taking a step forward and inclining her head in reception, Meresaa responds with one hand to her chest. "The grace and hospitality extended by your seneschal since our... disorienting arrival has been most estimable, Lady Isolde. He has served you commendably this day. I am Meresaa of the Izzet. I won't overstep by introducing those who stand with me as we've only just met, but I'm quite certain the most pressing questions that we all share are 'How have we come to be here?' and 'For what reason?'"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
I think Nikita would be almost certain Tindal is lying about Ravinca being one of the Janasib isles, especially given Meresaa's reaction. So her Insight (Tindal lying) and/or History (fact) checks would be almost laconic:
Insight: 18 History: 8
But she is excited about 2 things. First, that Meresaa and perhaps the others are possibly from different worlds. And secondly, Tindal had accidentally let slip that the party were here to cure the camp of something? That involuntary revelation made it seem very unlikely this was one of Iuz's traps, and thank Ehlonna for that!
She sizes up Hermos, trying to determine if he is a half-ogre or half-giant perhaps (?):
Nature check if necessary: 15
But all these musings instantly exit Nikita's mind, her pulse quickens and her mouth goes dry when she sees Lady Isolde. After staring for more than a moment too long, Nikita mostly recovers and shakes her head as she tries compose her thoughts.
It's like the charming hireling boy on the road all over again. Have you lost your wits?
Thankful that Meresaa took the initiative to speak first, Nikita steadies herself and inclines her head briefly in respect towards the... lovely... Lady Isolde. Hearing the gracious, blue outlander's courteous words, Nikita smiles in appreciation. Still, a bit too much unearned credit for our friend Tindal, don't you think? Let's bring his words into the open so we can skip over any false pretenses.
"Honor to serve, Lady Isolde. I am Nikita Tantsora of Celene. Master Tindal tells us we were summoned here to cure the camp of the...?"
Back to Isolde, “you, have a problem yah? We, are the solution yah? So I ask you one questions: how……. Much?” Cause i ain’t dying again and again for people I don’t even kknow yet.”
”poof what do you need” “poof what do you need?” (Shoots two blasts into the air) “ I’ve been shot! I’m fine again. I’ve been shot! Oh I’m fine again.” (Mimes falling and standing up again) “you ever try it? They don't e er mention that part do they?” (Scrunching, then raising his eye brows)
”you know it’s not even the dying part… I mean that hurts, but it’s the losing others part that really stings, really jogs your memories. You let us juuuuust love them enough, care about them deeply, start letting our guards down, then BAM! You take ‘‘em away and watch us put the pieces back together...” He is mumbling to himself by the end, but with great intensity. Suddenly he remembers where he was:
Ermasnietsz removes the tight pair of leather gloves from her hands and stares at the wrinkled skin covered with multiple stitches and scars. To her, it seems like different patches of skin sewn together to form an undead body. A body devoid of biological needs to drink, eat or breath. A body and soul that's not her own but still contains some part of her former self.
"Ermasnietsz"- she introduces herself to the vibrant group of people who are enjoying each others' company, also drawing attention of the charismatic lady. When she finds everyone's eyes fixated on herself, she repeats the name and explains the way it should be pronounced.
"Aye-ma-neoh. That's how you should pronounce it if you want to address me, or if you need my assistance."
She moves closer to the place of gathering while inadvertently making repeated clicking and ticking noise. She has unusually stern posture that emphasizes the artificial nature of her physique. She holds a small golden circular object in one of her hands while using other one to attach it's chain to the outside of her chest pocket. The object is a small pocket-watch and the hand holding the object is ghostly. Someone else might erroneously consider her as one of the freaks of the carnival.
"How did you summon us here? What kind of magic did you use?"
It's not so much that Tindal is lying outright, more that he is attempting to seem knowledgable on a topic he is not. In his mind, he has identified where Ravnica is and he is comfortable with that 'truth', even if it is in fact untrue.
((Given the fact that you rolled pretty high - though the dice roller is depicting 18 instead of 21! You are also able to determine the below.))
Tindal seemed very taken aback by the fact that Meresaa said she could be from another world. He did not know such things would be possible and it came as a shock to him, he hid this poorly. It also goes to explain why he would try and rationalise that Meresaa must 'fit' somewhere within Oerth, even if he is not entirely sure where.
History
I mean, it's not implausible that one of the Janasib Islands could be referred to as Ravnica, possibly by some other tribe or people. You are not that well versed on the area, you have not heard the name before in that context, however.
((First of the campaign! I have a feeling there will be several more before its conclusion!))
It is plain to see that Hermos is at least 1/2 giant, no man could reach 10 feet tall unless this was the case. You are sure that it is his genetics, rather than magic or potion, that is responsible for his height. In your expert opinion, Hermos is likely part hill giant; the smaller, but more numerous type of giant on Oerth.
Isolde nods at Meresaa, "You are right, I owe you an explanation. All of you." She seems earnest when she speaks, "Nikita has the right of it, though I did implore Tindal to not tell anyone of our plight until I had spoken with them." She glares at Tindal, who fidgets even more nervously than before and mouths an apology.
"A mysterious illness has swept through the Carnival since we arrived not more than a week ago - I believe this is the 5th day." Isolde looks at Tindal, who nods vigorously, hoping to make up for his previous slip, "I had hoped that Professor Pacali, or even Madam Fortuna, might have provided the answers as to what caused, or even how to treat, the sickness."
At Nick's outburst, she allows herself a little chuckle, "Worry not, I did not expect you to work without pay." She seems unamused as the blasts fly into the air. "Keep doing that around people and you may find that their mouths quickly seal tight," she says cooly before continuing, "The Carnival would be in your debt if you were to find out who or what is behind the illness and a cure... well that would double your pay."
"I can offer you all 1,000 gold pieces each if you are able to find out the root of the sickness. If you find a cure, you can double that figure. I am also prepared to front 300 gold pieces each - for supplies, provision, goodwill - on acceptance of undertaking this task." Isolde glares at Nick, "How does that sound? I would inform you that if you mean to take the 300 and leave, we have ways of bringing you back here, but I think that is clear by now."
((Ermasnietsz - Please can you roll an Insight check, as you see Isolde shift uncomfortably at your question.))
"What magics did we use?" Isolde says, parroting Ermasnietsz, "The pamphlets, they were devised by two of my troupe; The Illuminated Man - no one knows his real name - is able to draw magical tattoos, he was able to create the art on the pamphlet, and Claude, he..." She pauses, "I believe he used some form of shamanistic magics to send the pamphlets out and transport people here. There was a slight incident which occurred when he sent them though."
Faila watches the blasts firing into the air, and then turns her gaze back to Lady Isolde, watching her with large dark eyes. She tries to put together in her head some understanding of the numbers. 1,000.... 300.... she tries to think how much she's been paid before, for odd and unsettling jobs that she was able to survive undertaking when other ordinary folk weren't. Maybe 50. She tries to remember the count in her head. She thinks it's a lot less than what Lady Isolde is offering them.
Well, she has another question. Faila clears her throat. "People are getting sick? What is happening to them? Are they weak? Or hot? Spots on their skin? Do they breathe fast?"
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Nikita's History check:
Your mind spins with tidbits you remember about Monmurg; the fortified city stands as the Capital of the Hold of the Sea Princes, it is politically unstable, recently (within the last couple of years) Prince Jeon II of Monmurg assumed the throne... Your mind whirls attempting to recall more pertinent information; over the years it became synonymous with piracy and the trading of slaves.
Rumours enter your mind of a sinister group, operating covertly throughout the region, referred to simply as the Scarlet Brotherhood. It is believed that much of the discord and instability found within Monmurg can be attributed to their presence. You suspect that if Boyd was at all associated with the group he would certainly keep that fact a secret.
Nick Nack's Insight check:
The Skurra give you a wide berth as you begin shooting off the eldritch blasts - they seem amused at your display, yet also a little fearful of your power (and aim!).
You notice Tindal's painted face grinning widely at your display, it is clear to see that he is impressed.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
A flash of confusion briefly crosses Tindal's face as Meresaa mentions she does not recognise the stars. "Do you mean to tell me you come from another... world?" His voice is a little different, there is less pomp behind his words. Quickly maintaining his barker act, he continues not waiting for an answer, "I guess, if you have travelled far, then every new place must seem like a new world! Why I myself have never stepped foot in the city of Rel Astra, for example, I am sure that would appear like a completely different world compared to Saltmarsh!". He chuckles.
Tindal stares in wonder as Nick Nack fires off Eldritch Blast after Eldritch Blast. He claps excitedly, "Bravo! Bravo! What a splendidly fantastic show! I knew Lady Isolde would be able to find capable folk from all over Oerth!". He pats Nick Nack on the back, "Trust me, Mr Nack, if you were dead, you are no longer. How is the spiced wine and food, I hope it's to your liking."
Audibly clearing his throat, Tindal declares, "I trust you all will not partake too much of the wine... worry not the chance will come later! It's just that there is someone you really must meet. Someone who can shed some light on why you all are here. The Carnival Mistress - Lady Isolde."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Seemingly against her better judgement, Meresaa lets out a bark of delighted laughter as she watches the light show.
"Well, little friend, what convinces you that your memories aren't the dream after all? Consciousness is a fickle thing and certainty is only as good as your current assumption." She finally pushes her hood back to reveal a completely smooth and hairless head with a distinct lack of ears. A broad smile glints in the firelight. "Given enough time to think on it, I'm sure I could find some sort of similarities between myself and a dead crow, but for the moment nothing comes to mind. I am a researcher and crafter — an inventor if you will. But I quite like your pyrotechnics and would very much like to study your methods, should we have the opportunity."
She looks about the area illuminated by the campfire and squints to see what she can beyond its reach before turning back to the group.
"I've never heard of any of these places you've named: this Keoland, or Flanaess, or Oerth... I assume I'm not in Ravnica anymore. Perhaps I'll find a map at some point to try and orient myself. Are all here able to perform wonderous feats like our Mr. Nack?"
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Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Meresaa shrugs her narrow shoulders. "At this point you probably know as much as I. Quite possibly more as you all seem relatively at home here. Why don't we meet this mistress of yours who apparently has the power to summon us from our various corners of existence? Perhaps she can shed some light on the subject and offer answers to our multitudinous questions."
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Boyd shrugs at this, indicating that he can't. "Not me. Just a simple leatherworker, me."
He puts down his empty cup and politely nods a farewell to the Skurra, then agrees with the Meresaa that it's about time to meet this Lady Isolde who apparently has the power to summon people from all around Oerth. "Aye, let's see what Lady Isolde brought me - er, us - here for. I owe her a pumpkin for saving me some travel. Was heading out this way anyway."
Faila listens carefully to the discussion, but the moment Meresaa puts food into her hands, she seems quite oblivious to all else, downing the meal with all the voraciousness of a wild animal. When all food that anyone cares to hand to her has been quickly and hungrily devoured, she accepts one of the steaming cups of spiced wine being passed around, but, holding it in her scrap-covered hands, smells it somewhat cautiously. One sip, and then two, is enough to make her feel warm and dizzy all at once, and so she doesn't drink any more, but watches the fireworks of Eldritch Blast mingling with the banter of her new companions as they discuss worlds and destinies temporal and eternal.
Though she stays silent, her large dark eyes roving back and forth, she feels that familiar little wellspring of joy inside of her that she would get when seeing a family together around a fire, or a group of dwarves working and singing together in a mine, or a village that rushed to help a neighbor pull up a barn. While this crew is strange, and magical, with colors and shapes new to her, the musical rhythm of connection and bond is still the same, or at least, recognizable.
She manages a beaming smile only at Boyd, still half under Meresaa's cloak, holding the cup of hot wine as she edges just a little closer to the fire.
looking Faila & Nikita’s ways : “what do yah know! They gave me two (light) crossbows! Either of you need one? Never know what crazy shit we’re gonna get into, they don’t play around now do they. Always in the edge of life and death. That’s where the excitement is… and all the existential pain.”
“and Boyd Ol’ boy! Don’t sell yourself short! You sure you don’t have any unique skills the rest of us would make a fool of ourselves attempting? If not, I bet you’ll find yours soon enough.” Nick casts a visible mage hand and sends it Boyd’s way, jokingly making the gesture of trying to pickpocket him but failing.
Nikita murmurs "Thumbtack," and her owl wings away in a swift, wide circle, scouting the perimeter of their area before they are to meet this Lady Isolde. Looking for anyone that seems to be surreptitiously watching or eavesdropping on the party, returning to her shoulder when done. If I'm walking into a trap, I want to see who is trapping me.
Owl perception, at advantage for anything seen or heard due to Keen Hearing and Sight feature: 12
She gives the gnome a brief smile and slight shake of the head at the offer of a light crossbow, touching the longbow slung behind her shoulder.
Nikita still holds out her hand out in a polite greeting to the lurker who seemed to be part of their group but had not yet spoken. Perhaps another traveler from a different world?
Her mind is racing and her ever-present fear ebbs for the moment. Meresaa is from Ravnica? Nikita is fairly certain she has never heard of Ravnica. Could it truly be another world or plane of existence? So many questions. So much to learn. From all of these strangers, even about Monmurg from Boyd. Strange too that Nikita (and Boyd) should share a language with Meresaa, which might not even be the case with those from faraway parts of her own world of Oerth. Could it be that all these different worlds are alternate realities or planes with a common origin, or that interplanar travel is common, resulting in some levelling and normalization of languages and custom? Nikita feels a twinge of the same thrill and eagerness to learn that she had felt at the start of her training, which seems as if it were a hundred years ago instead of just a few.
And interesting that Tindal could not hide his surprise at some of us being not from Oerth. We are not exactly who he was expecting.
She quips at the jester. "Seems as if we are providing you amusement. Should it not go the other way around?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
"Ahh yes - Ravnica" Tindal says, amused, "One of the Janasib Islands, if I'm not mistaken. Why you have certainly travelled far Meresaa! I am sure Lady Isolde will be able to help you out, though I do not think the power that brought you here is hers alone."
Tindal seems genuinely pleased to see Faila fairing better now that she had a bite to eat and some wine. "Make sure to grab a jacket from our Skurra friends hereand wrap up warm!" he says, concern in his voice. One of the older Skurra chuckles and shakes his head, "Don' worry Miss, we'll sort you out." The old man ventures off to a nearby wagon briefly before returning with a patchwork cloak; it looks colourful and quaint, lovingly handmade and cared for, it smells of lavender and spice. "We takes care of people here, love," he explains, his voice is gruff yet kind - like that of a caring grandfatherly figure.
As Nick Nack produces the crossbows, Tindal's face shows a little concern, "Hopefully won't be needing those quite this moment - no sir! Fear not, the Lady Isolde can surely assist if provisions are what you require."
When he hears Nikita's quip, Tindal chuckles, "I believe I might find myself out of a job! Perhaps you could be the barker and I'll cure the camp of the..." He instantly stops short, briefly dropping his act, looking around in panic. "Best we get going now," he says humourlessly.
Nikita's Perception check (or rather Thumbtack's):
Thumbtack flies over the Carnival, though it is still early crowds are beginning to gather. In the centre a plain-looking wagon sits with a giant man, at least 10 feet tall, standing guard.
Other than the main tent, Thumbtack spots another number of interesting locations within the Carnival; you see signs standing next to tents of different sizes and colours, among them there are highly decorative signs reading, 'The Hall of Horrors', 'Madame Fortuna's Fortune-Telling', and 'The Troupers' Gallery'.
Your familiar does not sense any immediate danger or traps.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Boyd send a friendly smile Faila's way and says, "Boy, you really went to town on that. You act like you haven't eaten in days." But then he frowns a little, wondering if that might not actually be the case. Then he jovially says, "Best grab one for the road. They were good, eh?"
Boyd then responds to the quirky Gnome, "Well, I've been workin' on this for a while when I'm bored in the evenings." He plucks a copper coin from a pouch and attempts to flips it between his knuckles in a fluid grace.
Sleight of hand for his simple, nonmagical parlor trick: 26
The coin spins out of control and lands in the mud. He picks it up and wipes it off. "Well. I was right. You would look a right fool if you tried to do what I just did." He chuckles, maybe slightly embarrassed for having tried.
When he puts his coin away, Nick's mage hand comes groping for his pouch and he attempts to bat it away, though his hands go right through it, and he says, "Oi! Get away from me purse, you little goose. I got me eyes on you."
Boyd seems impressed by the foreign lands all these folks came from, though he could hardly name any towns outside of his immediate vicinity. Rather uneducated as he is, any earthshattering revelations seem to be lost on him.
Meresaa frowns and cocks her head slightly as she helps Faila with the proffered cloak. "If Ravnica is, in fact, an island, it would be the largest island I've ever heard of. In truth, I've never traveled beyond the Tenth District, but from the upper levels of Nivix I can see well beyond those borders with no large body of water in sight!"
She straightens and regards Tindal directly. "Indeed. It seems this enigmatic Lady Isolde may be the only one here with answers," she replies as she begins to follow.
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
Faila accepts the warm patchwork cloak, and the way her eyes sparkle as she looks at it, it's clear that the colors really catch her eye. She wraps it close around her, breathing in the scent, and then manages to remember her manners. "Thank you, Skurra!" she says. Her voice sounds a little hoarse when she speaks up, as if she's not very accustomed to using it. She smiles quietly at Meresaa.
"Fantastic, fantastic!" Tindal declares, clearly ignoring Meresaa's further musings as to whether Ravnica is indeed an island in the north-westerly region of Oerth. "Yes, that's right Madam Meresaa! The enigmatic, and dare I say charismatic, Carnival Mistress awaits!".
Tindal begins leading you through the Carnival, the morning is still young yet crowds of local Saltmarshians are already beginning to gather. "Pay no heed to the Georges, friends" he declares before explaining, "that's what we call non-Carnival folk, see. Oh, most Georges are good, well-mannered folk, but I make sure they keep their greasy hands to themselves. They don't fool old Tindal, no sir-ee."
"I generally herd each group of Georges around the big ring and generally show off ten of our acts before I drop them off in the Hall of Horrors for the big squeeze! The Hall of Horrors is Pacali's crew. He's an odd sort that Professor Pacali, take care 'round 'im." Tindal says, doing his best to make the Hall of Horrors seem intimidating.
"Now look to your left, towards the centre of the Carnival. Do you see that fairly ordinary-looking wagon? That wagon belongs to the Lady Isolde, our dear Mistress of the Carnival. Holds all of us rapscallions together, she does. Have mind though, her right-hand man is likely to be at her side - Hermos the Gaint, they call him. Tall fellow."
As you approach the plain-looking wagon you see Hermos standing guard, he must be at least 10 feet tall. "Tindal!" he bellows by way of greeting, "Who's that ragtag band yer leadin'? More Georges? You know the Carnival Mistress don't jus' meet with any old..." Tindal waves his hand dismissively. "No, Hermos - you great oaf! These are our special visitors, that are here about the situation." Tindal explains.
"Well, why didn't yer bleedin' say!" cries the heavily muscled giant, "Right this way, if yer ple...". Once more Hermos is interrupted, but this time not by Tindal. Emerging from the wagon steps a lady dressed head to toe in a ringmaster's suit, complete with top-hat; rather than red it is a deep, dark blue. She is pale-skinned with a slender frame, has long black hair, and has a dark, penetrating gaze with deep blue eyes - the Lady Isolde.
"Honoured guests - please, welcome," Isolde says, her voice smooth yet commanding. At a guess, you believe she is in her twenties, though she is likely older than that. Hanging from her hip is an ornate looking longsword. "I trust that dear Tindal has taken care of you so far," Tindal looks abashed and nervously fidgets as Isolde mentions his name, quite the change from his normal demeanour. "I am sure you must all have questions," she says looking each of you in the eyes, "I will answer what I can, but I believe that it may help if I show you why I have called you all here."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Taking a step forward and inclining her head in reception, Meresaa responds with one hand to her chest. "The grace and hospitality extended by your seneschal since our... disorienting arrival has been most estimable, Lady Isolde. He has served you commendably this day. I am Meresaa of the Izzet. I won't overstep by introducing those who stand with me as we've only just met, but I'm quite certain the most pressing questions that we all share are 'How have we come to be here?' and 'For what reason?'"
Characters currently being ruined on this forum:
Neria Tallfellow (Halfling Rogue) - Curse of the Crimson Throne with Ashen_Age
I think Nikita would be almost certain Tindal is lying about Ravinca being one of the Janasib isles, especially given Meresaa's reaction. So her Insight (Tindal lying) and/or History (fact) checks would be almost laconic:
Insight: 18
History: 8
But she is excited about 2 things. First, that Meresaa and perhaps the others are possibly from different worlds. And secondly, Tindal had accidentally let slip that the party were here to cure the camp of something? That involuntary revelation made it seem very unlikely this was one of Iuz's traps, and thank Ehlonna for that!
She sizes up Hermos, trying to determine if he is a half-ogre or half-giant perhaps (?):
Nature check if necessary: 15
But all these musings instantly exit Nikita's mind, her pulse quickens and her mouth goes dry when she sees Lady Isolde. After staring for more than a moment too long, Nikita mostly recovers and shakes her head as she tries compose her thoughts.
It's like the charming hireling boy on the road all over again. Have you lost your wits?
Thankful that Meresaa took the initiative to speak first, Nikita steadies herself and inclines her head briefly in respect towards the... lovely... Lady Isolde. Hearing the gracious, blue outlander's courteous words, Nikita smiles in appreciation. Still, a bit too much unearned credit for our friend Tindal, don't you think? Let's bring his words into the open so we can skip over any false pretenses.
"Honor to serve, Lady Isolde. I am Nikita Tantsora of Celene. Master Tindal tells us we were summoned here to cure the camp of the...?"
Tanis(Ranger1): Shiverquill's Tempest City | Xarian(Fighter2): NioNSwiper's Tyranny of Dragons
Dyson/Eleo(TwilightCleric4): Vos' Beyond the Veil | Soren(ShepherdDruid5): Bartjeebus' Ravenloft | Ophelia(WildMagicSorcerer4): Ashen_Age's Risen from the Sands
Joren(EchoKnightFighter6): NotDrizzt's Simple Request | Sabetha(MercyMonk3): Bedlymn's Murder Court | Seri(NatureCleric3/DivineSoulSorcerer1): Bartjeebus' Greyhawk
“How much!?” Nick blurts at her.
turning to the others, “gimme a sec”
Back to Isolde, “you, have a problem yah? We, are the solution yah? So I ask you one questions: how……. Much?” Cause i ain’t dying again and again for people I don’t even kknow yet.”
”poof what do you need” “poof what do you need?” (Shoots two blasts into the air)
“ I’ve been shot! I’m fine again. I’ve been shot! Oh I’m fine again.” (Mimes falling and standing up again)
“you ever try it? They don't e er mention that part do they?” (Scrunching, then raising his eye brows)
”you know it’s not even the dying part… I mean that hurts, but it’s the losing others part that really stings, really jogs your memories. You let us juuuuust love them enough, care about them deeply, start letting our guards down, then BAM! You take ‘‘em away and watch us put the pieces back together...” He is mumbling to himself by the end, but with great intensity. Suddenly he remembers where he was:
”how much?”
Ermasnietsz removes the tight pair of leather gloves from her hands and stares at the wrinkled skin covered with multiple stitches and scars. To her, it seems like different patches of skin sewn together to form an undead body. A body devoid of biological needs to drink, eat or breath. A body and soul that's not her own but still contains some part of her former self.
"Ermasnietsz"- she introduces herself to the vibrant group of people who are enjoying each others' company, also drawing attention of the charismatic lady. When she finds everyone's eyes fixated on herself, she repeats the name and explains the way it should be pronounced.
"Aye-ma-neoh. That's how you should pronounce it if you want to address me, or if you need my assistance."
She moves closer to the place of gathering while inadvertently making repeated clicking and ticking noise. She has unusually stern posture that emphasizes the artificial nature of her physique. She holds a small golden circular object in one of her hands while using other one to attach it's chain to the outside of her chest pocket. The object is a small pocket-watch and the hand holding the object is ghostly. Someone else might erroneously consider her as one of the freaks of the carnival.
"How did you summon us here? What kind of magic did you use?"
InkedBee (Undead_Analyst)
Covetous, Dragonish Thoughts - Jenviel Tsumara: Fallen Aasimar- Monk|Crimson Sands of Time - Navarra Iltazyara: Human- Druid/Warlock| Bleak Prospect - Ermasnietsz: Reborn- Clockwork Soul Sorcerer
Nikita's Insight & History checks:
Insight
It's not so much that Tindal is lying outright, more that he is attempting to seem knowledgable on a topic he is not. In his mind, he has identified where Ravnica is and he is comfortable with that 'truth', even if it is in fact untrue.
((Given the fact that you rolled pretty high - though the dice roller is depicting 18 instead of 21! You are also able to determine the below.))
Tindal seemed very taken aback by the fact that Meresaa said she could be from another world. He did not know such things would be possible and it came as a shock to him, he hid this poorly. It also goes to explain why he would try and rationalise that Meresaa must 'fit' somewhere within Oerth, even if he is not entirely sure where.
History
I mean, it's not implausible that one of the Janasib Islands could be referred to as Ravnica, possibly by some other tribe or people. You are not that well versed on the area, you have not heard the name before in that context, however.
Nikita's Nature check:
((First of the campaign! I have a feeling there will be several more before its conclusion!))
It is plain to see that Hermos is at least 1/2 giant, no man could reach 10 feet tall unless this was the case. You are sure that it is his genetics, rather than magic or potion, that is responsible for his height. In your expert opinion, Hermos is likely part hill giant; the smaller, but more numerous type of giant on Oerth.
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Isolde nods at Meresaa, "You are right, I owe you an explanation. All of you." She seems earnest when she speaks, "Nikita has the right of it, though I did implore Tindal to not tell anyone of our plight until I had spoken with them." She glares at Tindal, who fidgets even more nervously than before and mouths an apology.
"A mysterious illness has swept through the Carnival since we arrived not more than a week ago - I believe this is the 5th day." Isolde looks at Tindal, who nods vigorously, hoping to make up for his previous slip, "I had hoped that Professor Pacali, or even Madam Fortuna, might have provided the answers as to what caused, or even how to treat, the sickness."
At Nick's outburst, she allows herself a little chuckle, "Worry not, I did not expect you to work without pay." She seems unamused as the blasts fly into the air. "Keep doing that around people and you may find that their mouths quickly seal tight," she says cooly before continuing, "The Carnival would be in your debt if you were to find out who or what is behind the illness and a cure... well that would double your pay."
"I can offer you all 1,000 gold pieces each if you are able to find out the root of the sickness. If you find a cure, you can double that figure. I am also prepared to front 300 gold pieces each - for supplies, provision, goodwill - on acceptance of undertaking this task." Isolde glares at Nick, "How does that sound? I would inform you that if you mean to take the 300 and leave, we have ways of bringing you back here, but I think that is clear by now."
((Ermasnietsz - Please can you roll an Insight check, as you see Isolde shift uncomfortably at your question.))
"What magics did we use?" Isolde says, parroting Ermasnietsz, "The pamphlets, they were devised by two of my troupe; The Illuminated Man - no one knows his real name - is able to draw magical tattoos, he was able to create the art on the pamphlet, and Claude, he..." She pauses, "I believe he used some form of shamanistic magics to send the pamphlets out and transport people here. There was a slight incident which occurred when he sent them though."
DM - The Call of Strahd (CoS); Feyrealm Campaign, Chapter 0 - Bleak Prospect (BP), Chapter 1 - Destination Unknown (DU)
Faila watches the blasts firing into the air, and then turns her gaze back to Lady Isolde, watching her with large dark eyes. She tries to put together in her head some understanding of the numbers. 1,000.... 300.... she tries to think how much she's been paid before, for odd and unsettling jobs that she was able to survive undertaking when other ordinary folk weren't. Maybe 50. She tries to remember the count in her head. She thinks it's a lot less than what Lady Isolde is offering them.
Well, she has another question. Faila clears her throat. "People are getting sick? What is happening to them? Are they weak? Or hot? Spots on their skin? Do they breathe fast?"