A bright future and the love of his life in his arms, <BLANK> had the world in the palm of his hand until tragedy struck and took everything from him. Transformed by fey magic to enact his revenge, the newly named Alakazam will find out how far vengeance can take you. 
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Dramatis Personae 

Alakazam (Changeling Warlock) portrayed by FayHX

The Knight (Human Knight) image
     HP 30, AC 14 (chain shirt)
     STR 16 (+ 3), DEX 13 (+ 0), CON 16 (+ 2), INT 12 (- 1), WIS 13 (+ 0), CHA 9 (+ 3)
     Skills: Athletics + 5, 
     Punch, to hit + 5, damage 1d4 + 3 (for now)
     Shortsword (x2), to hit + 5, damage 1d6 + 3 piercing
     Special Notes: Fighting Style: Dueling, Extra Attack x 1

Midnight (Tressym Wizard Familiar) image
     HP 10, AC 12 (natural)
     STR 3 (- 4), DEX 15 (+ 2), CON 10 (+ 0), INT 16 (+ 3), WIS 12 (+ 1), CHA 12 (+1)
     Skills: Arcana + 5, Perception + 5, Stealth + 4
     Scratch, to hit + 0, 1 slashing damage
     Spells: Shocking Grasp, Ray of Frost
     Special Notes: Immune to poison damage and condition, poison sense (detect poison by touch, taste, smell), darkvision 60 ft, advantage on Perception checks that rely on smell, Detect Invisibility (Within 60 feet of the tressym, magical invisibility fails to conceal anything from the tressym’s sight).

saved

/--Midnight, First of Kythorn, 1491 DR, Neverwinter--/

Everything happened so quickly. Everything was fine until it wasn't. You recall screaming, fire, and people running as heavily cloaked people on horses drove down your compatriots. Finally, you were knocked out by a swinging mace. What should have killed you only caused you to lose consciousness... and when you woke up, it was too late. Everywhere was death and fire. That's when you spotted her across from you.

Arabelle, the love of your life, laid in a pool of blood. Your quick inspection of her, drastic as it was, revealed that she was cut down her back by a sword most likely. You hold her in your arms and do everything you can think to bring her to life, but to no avail. Despite the fleeting warmth of her skin, she has departed from this mortal plane. Your clothing soaks in her blood as you sit holding Arabelle and weep. After some unknowable stretch of time, after you've been left to your thoughts, it seems something has decided to interrupt this moment.

"What a most tragic sight. The love between two mortals transcends life and death, or so that is what the poets say." A rich and melodic voice speaks and in the blink of an eye, you see a woman soaked in blood stand before you. It seems the blood endlessly pours from every part of her flesh, cloaking her enough that you cannot make out most of her features. Her eyes glow red and her hair is long and flowing red. You realize now this woman stands in Arabelle's pool of blood.  "I know who did this. They didn't get very far... but you will never overcome a horde of men and goblins on your own, will you? You need power to accomplish that. Lucky you, power is something I have in droves... what say you?"

<BLANK> what are the thoughts going through your head? What feelings do you have? How do you react to this strange woman and her clearly suspicious offer?

<BLANK> awoke in a dazed state.  He sat up and instinctively applied pressure to his head where the mace had connected.  Not yet in his right mind, the changeling looked at the carnage of bodies left on the floor.  That was when he noticed Arabelle and everything came back to him at once.  "Noooo!", was all he could manage as he ran to her.  However his wounds seemed to have crippled him, as he quickly lost balance and fell.  After another failed attempt to stand and run, <BLANK> crawled to his lover.

He cradled her in his arm, "Arabelle, wake up my love.  It's me.  I'm here.  We're going to be ok."

<BLANK> patted Arabelle on the cheek, trying to wake her.  As he did so, blood from his hand smeared on her face.  Caught off guard by the hue of red, he looked around and noticed he sat in a pool of blood.  The liquid was still warm, and yet, when he touched Arabelle she only grew colder.  He sat her up to discover the deep cut on her back, and realized the finality of her slumber.

<BLANK> yelled into the nothingness of the sky.  He yelled out of fear, out of frustration, out of suffering, out of anger, out of hate, out of all that was wrong with the world.  His negativity overwhelmed him and screaming felt like the only thing he could do.  Until finally, <BLANK> crumpled forward into his lover and sobbed into her lifeless body. 

He was surrounded by the crackling of fire, but the surrounding ambiance suddenly quieted as a serene voice spoke out to him.  Looking up, he saw a woman soaked in Arabelle's blood.  <BLANK> listened to the stranger's words and then responded in broken sentences, "I am... a mere magician.  An actor, a liar... a fraud...  There is nothing I can do that would bring my dear Arabelle back to me.  And moreso, there is nothing I can do to make those bastards pay..."

"My magic isn't real; just a bit of planning and simple trickery.  And I have never held a blade against anyone...  Look at me!  I am pitiful!  I am weak! I wield no deathly magics!  And no great blade would ever be wielded correctly in my hands!  So what could you possibly give me that would allow me to destroy those who have murdered my Arabelle."

"I can give you power, of course. I am an archery afterall. Those tricks you call magic? I can make them real. By granting you a modicum of my power, you could have your revenge." As a show of demonstration, the woman flicks her wrist and all around them an illusion forms before his very eyes. The illusion displaces the death and wanton destruction and replaces it with the complete opposite. The carnival is safe and well, various members of the carnival walk around and speak as if nothing is wrong. Logically, <BLANK> knows this must be a spell of illusion, but it seems so real it takes him a lot of effort to see pass it. (DC 20 investigation if you want him to be able to see through it.) "But I can grant you more than just illusions... I can grant you deadlier spells. It will merely cost you something you no longer need. Let this version of you die here with Arabelle. Give me your name, and I will forge a pact with you. You will be one of my warlocks."

<BLANK> reeled back when the illusion sprung forth.  He looked at Arabelle only to see that she still laid dead.  "All this power. C-could you bring my dear Arabelle back to life?  I would give you anything.  Not just my name, but I would give my own life to you.  Let me die in her steed."

"Do I look like Lathander to you?" The Red Woman muses. Her tone is inappropriately playful as she speaks. "No, I am unable to bring her back even if you want to sacrifice yourself for her... I am afraid her soul is well on its way toward the eternal cycle.

"But, what I can bring you is revenge. You can avenge your lover. The culprit did not make it far. You need only have the power to overcome his allies at the camp they made. Once you do that, you will have tasted revenge. Of that, I can assure you."

<BLANK> takes a moment to look at Arabelle.  He ponders the idea of taking his own life; perhaps he could join her in the afterlife.  But as he looked over her features a memory came back to him:

He remembered a picnic he had prepared for Arabelle.  Once the meal was finished, the two laid under the shade of an old oak tree.  As the wind bristled through the trees, the two admired the shifting patterns of the leaves above them.  <BLANK> turned to look at his lover and asked, "When you first saw me, I was just a stranger.  Your manager allowed me to perform for your tavern, but I was still just one face amongst the hundreds of others you saw everyday as you served drinks.  So why did I stand out?"

Arabelle turned in kind to face <BLANK>, a few strands of her blonde hair falling from her shoulders to the grass.  She smiled, "Because you were beautiful."

"Beautiful?" jokingly, <BLANK> shifted and became a perfect copy of Arabelle, "Yes, I am indeed beautiful."

The conversation broke into a light bout of laughter before continuing.

"Arabelle, you know that I like to change my appearance during my performances.  Whatever form I took that day, I cannot claim its beauty as my own."

"That's not what I mean.  While I'm not against seeing that curvy, bodacious Tiefling again; I meant that your beauty came from how you made others smile.  You picked out the saddest sop in that bar, and did everything you could to get a smile out of him.  I don't care what you look like.  But the way you preserve wonder, instilling hope and happiness.  That is what makes you beautiful."

The memory ended and <BLANK> was left staring at his lifeless lover once more.  He then looked around and though the scenery was still affected by the Red Woman, he knew that under the illusory serenity was pain and despair.  So much suffering wrought by the hands of a few evil men.  "Preserve wonder.  Instilling hope and happiness..." <BLANK> murmured to himself.

<BLANK> took a deep breath before turning to look his interlocutor in the eyes, "My name is <BLANK>.  If you are truly as you say you are, then my name is yours.  Make me your warlock and I will excise this world of its cancer."

"The deal is the deal." The Red Woman mused as she stuck out her hand. <BLANK> could feel something inside them stirring. Memories from recently came to the forefront. The happy ones with Arabelle. "Let this one be stricken from the records of the Raven Queen's wheel. Let this one's end be erased from Jergal's tome. The one known as <BLANK> shall cease to exist." Memories of young adulthood, of adolescence,  and even ones they couldn't remember until just now of being a toddler, a baby, in their mother's arms. "Hence forth, this one belongs to the Witch Queen, Iggwilv!"

The memories feel muted, but not lost. Some surface, some submerge deep into the psyche of the one once known as <BLANK>. Now, a new sensation floods their body. Newfound power, new memories... or muscle memories. Spells. Abilities. Powers they never had before... they know how to use these abilities. They know how to invoke this Iggwilv's power. Iggwilv, who is their new master. 

<BLANK> reels back slightly from the sudden surge of power and memories.  He winced back in shock at first but soon let the feeling overwhelm him.  It felt like he had woken up from a dream.  As if the prior events were a distant and vague memory but now he had achieved full clarity.  <BLANK> looked at his master, "I suppose if past me is erased from existence, I'll need a new name.  Hmm, call me... Alakazam."

Alakazam gently lays Arabelle on the floor and uses his newfound magic (prestidigitation) to clean the blood off her.  He looks at his lover one last time, burning her image into his mind, before turning to Iggwilv, "So where is this cancer?"

"Let the blood guide you." Iggwilv gestures to the pool of blood beneath her. You see a sliver of it begin to move across the grass, like a river cutting a new path. It leads deeper into the woods, you determine. Is there anything you'd like to try to find in the circus or ask Iggwilv?

Alakazam watches as the blood trail shows him the way.  He acknowledges the path and asks Iggwilv, "So many have died here.  Surely I'm not the only one who has lost a loved one this day.  So why choose me?"

Alakazam will also make a perception check to see if there are any dead Redbrands amongst the corpses.
Perception Check: 9 (rolled in game log)
Passive Perception: 12

"You have an ability many lack. It is quite interesting." Iggwilv answers simply. 

Alakazam does not find any Redbrands. It would appear the carnage here is completely one-sided. They also don't know it was specifically the Redbrands that did this.

"I see.  Well, I'll consider myself lucky then."  Alakazam takes one last look at Arabelle, burning her appearance into his memory.  "I will avenge you my love, and I will keep the wonder alive."

Alakazam's eyes begin to well up but before a single tear falls, the warlock conjures a blank, white mask to hide his face.  Alakazam takes the form of a human male with generic features before turning and giving Iggwilv a nod, "Until we meet again."

He heads off to follow the blood trail.

Alakazam follows the trail into the woods, leaving his old world behind. The further he gets, the less weight the carnage directly has on his shoulders until the only weight is that of his late love and the planted seed of revenge. It's buried in the pit of his stomach. He can almost feel it inside of him, growing. Demanding tribute.

It isn't long before he reaches the edge of a small camp. He comes across the side where all the horses are tied to trees. There are only 4 horses here. In his memory, he could have sworn it was like a fleet of men, yet here seemed to be evidence of the contrary. Turning his gaze toward the center of this camp, he spies a fire and what he suspects is about half a dozen men. 

Alakazam's memory is all fuzz. He could have sworn there were more of them. So many more. None of these men are recognizable to Alakazam, but he notices one of them seems to be covered in blood. No one else seems to notice this about the man. Curious.

Finally, he notices there are a few cages. All of them are empty except for 1. These cages are in the bed of a cart that is currently horseless. There are two inhabitants in these cages. The first is familiar to Alakazam. The second is new.

The first is Midnight, a tressym. This black kitten was most recently summoned by the conjurer in the circus trope, Alexandra. There is no sign of the conjurer, and it seems likely she must be dead, but for whatever reason, they have her flying cat familiar. (Pic: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/45/90/d5/4590d556135765f94c54cd9ca531c713.jpg)

The second is a new face. A human woman, you guess, who seems to be heavily armored stands stoically in her cage. You can't tell what she is thinking, but if looks could burn, she would have burned a hole in the lock keeping her prisoner seconds into your observation of her.

What will Alakazam do?

(ooc: Quick question, what time of day is it?)

(For theming, let's say its the dead of night to be cool and edgy.)

Caught off guard by how few men there seems to be, Alakazam recounts the men.  Perhaps there are more amongst the campground that I missed, he thinks to himself.  While double checking the number of men on the site, Alakazam also looks to see if there is a way to reach the cages without being noticed.

Perception check: 6
Passive Perception: 12

(Sorry, was at my step-dad's birthday then my son threw up LOL. I should be more available today.)

There don't seem to be more people here than what he saw. I should also include there are some crates and barrels here, though Alakazam can't be sure about the contents. Alakazam could easily reach the cages in a roundabout way, the cages are on the outskirts of this encampment, but he would still need to be careful not to be seen by these bandits. Without making any special preparations, he would need to make a Stealth check. however, if Alakazam can come up with how better to hide his arrival, he will gain advantage. (I will let you determine in this instance if you  gain advantage since its fairly low stakes for the time being)

While still at a safe distance, Alakazam uses prestidigitation to create a small, obsidian amulet.  He chucks it to the opposite of camp, aiming at a box or crate, to make a distracting noise.  Hopefully, as the bandits' heads turn to face the noise, Alakazam sneaks his way to the woman in the cage.

Stealth Check: 14