Rowan thinks about the noises he's heard and then smiles.
"These tickets we have are invitations to some sort of theatre, right?" Rowan says to the others. "It sounds to me like the carpentry shop for the set designers might be on the other side of these stone."
He reaches up one hand, getting ready to remove the stones.
"Wait" G'Reg hisses at Rowan and his brazen haste in everything, "Maybe a little forethought here and planning. What I saw in the dream I had when I came here was very frightning but also insightful, there is a large open air amphitheatre inside the castle walls, people puttin' on plays and such like, I think that might just be what this tunnel opens up to. Beyond that, past the bleachers and viewing galleries there is a hallway that extends into the very mountain itself and I think that is where this Endelyn resides... there is a great library of books, something it appears she collects, references, and takes for reasearch and cross examination... the contents of these books are written in the room above, there is a great big arcane structure that seems to be crafted for some kind of divination, runes are emmitted like smoke and written down to be assembled for the great library..." G'Reg ponders for a moment, "these three things, the divining room, the library, the theater, I wonder if they're connected, like a ritual for the collection of hopes and desires for destiny, That is what Endelyn craves most according to what we have been told, but the countenance.. 'She snatches the hopes' could that be what her machine is for? peoples hopes are taken and written down to be performed so that she can keep them?? this place seems latent with such things from the material realm, the gems of wishes and such... So It's not beyond the levels of impossibility for this damned place" his explanation at this point has become more of a pondering out loud than an actual informational speech, "whilst we're looking for all of the people that have been taken by her, Gleam, Golmo, the rest of the Valor's Call... perhaps we take away Endelyns power by destroying that machine.?" He looks up to the group a little surprised that he is saying all this out loud and squints his eyes for some kind of response.
While Greginald is talking, the impulsive Rowan slides the first stone out of the wall. The brigganocks have done their job well, and Rowan is quite strong - the brick comes free without a sound. Peering through the gap, the group can behold that the room on the other side is a dark store room of some kind, about twenty feet square. Crates of props are stacked in the shadows against the walls, alongside darkened wooden backdrops draped in cobwebs.
Directly opposite the tunnel opening is a short passage to the room beyond. Bright light issues from the opening, as well as much noise and movement. Several goblins can be seen bustling around, moving frequently past the opening to the store room, dressed in overalls, carrying lengths of timber or other materials, although never glancing inside the storeroom. There is a general background chatter from the goblins, most of whom are not visible, except when they pass the storeroom doorway, but it sounds like there are at least a dozen of them. The sound of hammering and sawing is now much clearer. Over the top of all this noise is a loud and authoritative female voice, shouting in Common:
No, no, no! The hemline should whisper tragedy, not shout farce! Do it again, and this time with feeling.
You there—yes, the one with the glue on his nose—don’t staple the lace to the actor’s arm again! The last understudy still hasn’t stopped bleeding!
Where’s my skull prop? I told you, it needs real teeth! The painted ones chip under the lights! And for the last time, it's Charmay! Not my lady's killer!"
Rowan nods along as Greg speaks but he divides his attention to also watch the goblins going back and forth.
”She has a machine that steals hopes and dreams? Does that mean the person is left with no hope at all? I guess as long as you already have a pretty good life that’s not bad. But even if you hoped for a little change, she steals that? That’s really pretty evil. Of course we have to stop that machine.”
He looks back into the hallway and watches the goblins.
”They probably know where it is. And who do you think the director is? Not Creepy Lyn herself?”
While the others get ready with Greg’s plan, Rowan quietly and quickly removes the rest of the stones that were movable.
Molliver from what stories, Mulligan wonders but doesn't ask as Rowan has immediately lost interest and is listening at the stones.
Perhaps we wait until the sounds stop?
Mulligan offers the question framed advise even as G'ReG chimes in... And as Rowan ignores them both. Mulligan shakes his head and sighs but listens to what the gnome says.
Interesting theory. How does she take the hopes though? You mention a ritual but is that enough to take the hopes of anyone and everyone you wish? Or that she wish? I'm wondering if the play plays a role. Perhaps even the invitations? Perhaps watching the plays is essential? Or who knows, perhaps even being in them. With these faery rules perhaps the act of accepting the invitation to the theater is enough to then give her permission, or allowance, to take the hope?
It's vague and weird but then again so is everything today. But Mulligan thinks perhaps it makes enough of the Fae kind of sense to maybe be true.
Barria truly enjoys the hospitality of the little ones, trying to learn some of their names and relishing in the delicious food that is served. Getting a good nights rest was something she wasn't prepared for, but it happened nonetheless. Stretching and yawning loudly as she awakes, trying not to be bothered by the fact they were in fact going to use the tunnel and not go in by the front door. She tries to tell herself it is because of Glister and she didn't want him feeling not welcome.
The knocking is peculiar, she presses her ear against the wall, but as she does, Rowan starts pulling the stones out and she shrugs, waiting to see what is revealed behind them.
As Greg voices his thoughts, she nods. "You do have a way about thinking things through. And yes, I believe we should try and stop this Creepy Lynn. She doesn't sound good for Yon, whatsoever. So.. what are your plans at this moment though? Shall we just enter and find this director lady or what?"
Greg takes a peek, paying no mind to answer the questions aside from the one Barria posed. "Goblins... Hm! 'bout the same size as a gnome, same kind of ears... though I don't like to make the comparison, it is a truth... Is there any green paint in this store room? Could one of you dress me up and then I can at least vouch for us if we get stopped... though I don't speak their native tongue. It is not really a plan but maybe a cover?"
Barria scratches her head as she looks towards the commotion again and then looks towards Mulligan, "You're probably the sneakiest of us, want to grab us some paint? Might be fun to dip ol' G'Reg here in it!"
She continues to listen though, trying to catch anything else said by the 'director'
Mulligan considers for a moment and then shrugs. He doesn't really think a g'Reen g'Reg will be that convincing as a g'Oblin but he thinks it'll be a mighty amusing thing to watch. So it is with a nod of his head in the affirmative that he steps forward and through the hole and looks for a nice shadow to climb into with the intent of sneaking into the theater staging area, or whatever it is, to try to find some green paint and "g'oBlin" attire... or whatever else may be available to be liberated for the cause...
Stealth: 22
While stealthing around, Mulligan will use his newly formed Psychic Whispers Group Chat to connect to all of the group (with level up I can connect to all know) and keep them informed of what he is seeing and such. This new group chat lasts 6 hours so we should be good to go for a while...
Quiet as a field mouse, Mulligan slips through the gap in the wall made by Rowan, and into the cramped and cluttered storage room. His tread is light and he blends with the shadows, so even though goblins are scurrying past the brightly lit doorway only a dozen feet away, none perceive the rogue in the dark room. The smells of grease and varnish and sawdust are potent, and the thuds and hammering and sawing and cursing and scraping and grinding from the workshop just a few paces yonder is so much louder now. Yet Mulligan is conscious of the proximity of the goblins, and how easily a single wrong movement or stray sound might give away his clandestine ingress.
Mulligan starts going through the piles of junk looking for green paint, or anything else that might come in handy. He quickly discovers that there isn't much in the way of raw materials (timber, fixings, paint, etc) but mostly backdrops, costumes, and props, all in varying states of disrepair...
LIST OF BACKDROPS
Wedding altar Opulent bedroom Banquet hall Fancy garden Forest road Town square Castle ramparts Church interior Crypts High cliffs Palace hall Courtroom Library Graveyard Battlefield Ballroom Library Tavern Planar gateway Laboratory Market festival Torture Chamber Swampland Underdark
LIST OF COSTUMES
Fancy chef Executioner Monarch Religious leader Medic Military officer Gladiator Game hunter Maidservant Butler Tribal warrior Ballroom dancer Dragon Circus performer Undead fiend Angel Devil Prophet Vistani Vagabond
LIST OF PROPS
Wedding cake Wedding rings Champagne bottle Flower bouquet Rubber wooden stake and mallet Holy water flask Wooden sword painted with flames Crystal ball Deck of cards Tin holy symbol, silver with a red gem Large leatherbound tome Wine bottle Candlestick with lit candles Large pocket watch Dinner table with place settings and food Violin with bow Pink parasol Smoking pipe Feather duster Manacles Shield emblazoned with a family crest Saddle and tack Stick horse (horse’s head on a long stick for riding) Large lock with an oversized key Barrel with a spigot Potted plant Moose head wall trophy Blunderbuss Pair of silver scissors Skeleton marionette, tangled in strings Handheld mirror Ship’s wheel Cracked scream mask in a very lifelike goblin's face Stuffed raven
Mulligan:
Just as Mulligan is about to dig through another box of props, he senses movement nearby. 'Ello chum! speaks a voice much too loudly for Mulligan's liking. He looks toward the sound of the voice and sees the skeleton marionette laying there, its hollow eyes turned toward Mulligan. Was that...? Could it be...? Don't s'pose you could help out, gaffer? The jawbone waggles, with a voice suited for the stage. I'm in a bit of a tangle.
A goblin holding a wooden beam pauses at the doorway and looks inside the storeroom, scanning the shadows... but then shrugs and walks away.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
The backgrounds are of little obvious value to Mulligan so he wastes little time on them, only doing a quick look through so he has some idea what is there just in case it could be relevant later. The costumes offer more promise. Maybe we cannot pain G'rEgInAlD green G'oBLiN G'ReEn but he could be draped to look like a performer.... Mulligan looks to grab the Religious Leader costume of his G'nOmE friend and scoops up the Fancy Chef costume for Barria. Depending on how bulky the costumes are and how many he thinks he can sneak back with he will also grab the Angel costume for Rowan, already putting together some amusing argument scene between the trio that they could improvise to prove they are performers if caught... Mulligan almost laughs out loud before he remembers he wants to be stealthy.
Many of the props are too large for him to consider stealthing back with, more's the pity. The Wedding Cake would fit the farcical scene in his head perfectly but it's just not practical. The Champagne bottle and Flower Bouquet should fit easily enough into his backpack though, as well as the Pink Parasol. He quickly adds the Crystal Ball, Deck of Cards, Manacles and Smoking Pipe just because... Just because. Mulligan has passed over the skeleton marionette and is picking up and considering the Cracked Scream Goblin Mask when he hears the voice.
'Ello chum! speaks a voice much too loudly for Mulligan's liking. Don't s'pose you could help out, gaffer? The jawbone waggles, with a voice suited for the stage. I'm in a bit of a tangle.
For a split second Mulligan is caught like a deer in headlights... Err, the headlights of a carriage or buggy, of course, not some metal contraption fueled by the dead body juice of great beasts that existed long ago. No, no, no... that would be silly! So carriage lights, yeah, that's it.
After the briefest of moments being stunned by the voice of a skeleton marionette (aren't they also called dummies?) talking to him, Mulligan takes yet another moment to take in the totality of everything about him and this marionette to try to gain some insight on the situation...
Insight: 16 Though if 16 isn't good enough he will use his Psi-Bolstered Knack to increase it to a 19. The Psionic Energy Die added is only used if it doesn't make a failure turn into a success.
Hello to you as well, my friend. I'd be happy to straighten you out but in return I'm going to need you to turn down the volume and speak in a whisper. See what I'm doing is a bit of a surprise and we don't want to be drawing attention and ruining the fun too soon, do we?
Mulligan would of course adjust and tailor the above based on any insight he gained, mostly on the trying to win the skeleton over to the side of being hushed and discreet... (But don't want to actually hold up the game by waiting to see if any actual insight is gained and doing the adjusting...)
((Also note, Telepathic feat allows Mulligan to speak telepathically "to any creature you can see within 60 feet of you." So I'm guessing he can communicate with the Marionette but we'll see... So I also don't want to go too deep past trying til we know for sure.))
Oh, right. Backstage voice, eh? Got it. The skeleton’s voice drops to a conspiratorial murmur. So are you a performer? An actor? Wait, don’t tell me... you’re a mime! You don’t look miserable enough, though. All the performers I’ve met are miserable. You still have your shadow? Huh. So what are you going to perform? What’s your name, chum? I’m called Break-a-leg.
As the skeleton rambles on, Mulligan begins to form a mental picture: all these discarded props, forgotten backdrops, abandoned costumes—everywhere unwanted junk. Perhaps this skeleton, this creation, is also a reject. His jovial chatter and good humor might be exactly what made him unfit for the tragic and mournful theatre of a wicked hag.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Met some kind of sentient skeleton marionette thing. Talking to it at least enough to try to keep them to be quiet about me. Will update when I can.
Mulligan takes a quick moment to send that over Group Chat to the others so they know what is going on and aren't worried that he got overly delayed.
He considers the skeleton and the situation for a moment after listening to it, wanting to carefully choose what he says. He has his assumptions about this Break-a-leg but not everything is as it first seems, as he has come to learn. Besides, pausing a bit also gives the others a moment to respond without all the thoughts and words getting jumbled in his head at once.
I'm new. Just learning how things work around here. I was invited when I arrived and I guess I'm not sure what kind of performance I should do. Any suggestions?
Mulligan begins to slowly and carefully untangle Break-a-leg as he talks. Extremely slowly, delaying for time to try to really get a sense of what is going on before setting them free.
The skeleton chuckles, a sound like dice rattling in a cup. Suggestion, you say? Well, chum, that depends on what sort of story you want to tell. Around here, tragedy plays best... big tears, big gasps, sorrow wrapped in silk and ashes... She loves a story where hope burns out nice and slow. What have we done in the past that's gone over well... Let's see...
There was ‘The Little Candle Girl’ — poor waif tried to sell candles on a snow-blown street. Lit them one by one for warmth, until she melted into the wax herself. Endelyn adored that one — said the ending ‘glowed with potential.’ Then came ‘The Clockwork Child’. Puppet boy learns to love, just as his maker winds him down for good. That one had the audience sobbing. Oh! And ‘The Fisherman’s Bride’ — young woman waits by the lake for her love to return, but the water only sends up his bones. But she marries the skeleton anyway, so that kinda spoiled it... too romantic. And the all-time favorite... 'The Last Feather of the Dying Swan’. Fourteen minutes of weeping before being eaten by her own reflection. Endelyn said it was ‘sublime self-consumption.’
He sighs, the sound like bones settling. Give her despair, chum, that's what she wants. Despair with taste. If the audience leaves smiling, you’ve done it wrong. Take it from me. Personal experience. If you’ve got a spark of joy in you, keep it hidden. She hates a happy ending.
The skull wobbles thoughtfully on its strings, then adds: Do you have any sad stories of your own? Real ones? Maybe do something honest. That always confuses them. Nobody up there knows what to do when someone means what they say. Imagine that! Real feeling, in a theatre.
He gives a little sigh, as if embarrassed by his own outburst. Anyway, if you need a partner, I could… y’know. Play dead. I’m good at that.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Glister paces nervously, glancing often into the adjacent room. She's so close now, I can feel it! He whispers in agitation. Why are we wasting time talking to puppets when she could be right upstairs!?
Amidor has been quiet, but responds to Glister's venting: Patience, my good elf. Even courage must learn to wait its cue, though I confess that lurking in the shadows is beneath my honor. What say you, my good Gnome? Dwarf? Elf?
The noises from the adjoining brightly-lit room continue to fill the darkness, including the occasional outbursts by the female voice:
Tighter at the waist! Do you think I need room to run? I'll not be measured forever. Not by thread, nor by hag.
If those ropes snap again during a performance, I'll string you up in their place. Now move!
Get that contraption ready before curtain call, or I'll tell Lady Endelyn you've been slacking. And you know what happens to goblins who waste her time!
With no green paint in the vicinity and giving up on his idea, the gnome shifts uncomfortably, "yes yes, I'm not the sneakiest sort but I am small, I'll go see what Mulligan is up to and see if I can find something to disguise us, if I get caught I suppose I've got this damnable invitation... Wait here" and with that he tries sneaking over to where Mulligan disappeared off to. (Stealth NAT 1 for a total of 2! lovely)
Apparently going arse over tea kettle, the gnome more or less falls out of the closet with a bang.
Greginald slips through the hole in the wall like a shadow, hardly making a sound... except that his boot kicks a loose mask on the floor, which skitters quietly across the dusty floor... and bumps into a row of stage swords leaning against the wall in a neat but precarious line. One sword tips over, hitting the sword next to it, and soon the whole stack clatters down like wind chimes, the final blade’s tip snagging the hem of a velvet curtain.
Greginald lunges to catch the curtain... but his elbow knocks over a mannequin torso behind him. It lands squarely into a trunk of juggling pins, which falls over, sending the pins scattering across the floor like startled rabbits.
Desperate to stop the pins, the gnome instead steps on one, launching it back in the other direction, into a rack of costumes. The rack creaks, tips over, and collapses into a line of painted backdrops leaning against the wall.
Whump—Thump-Whump-Thump! One after another, the great canvases fall in sequence... scenes of moonlit meadows, crumbling towers, and mournful graveyards cascading like a wordless screenplay... tumbling like dominoes in a painter’s nightmare.
Dust bursts upward in glittering plumes, and as the last backdrop topples, it strikes the top of a series of shelves holding props: a wobbling collection of candlesticks, goblets, skulls, and masks. The shelf holds...
...
...There is silence in the store room, as well as in the workshop beyond.
Then, as if for a final encore, the weakened and overloaded shelf decides to collapse, with the weary dignity of a stage veteran taking their final bow. The contents fall onto the shelf below, and those onto the one below that, causing one more giant and glorious series of crashes, and sending anything and everything that remains raining down onto the fresh piles of mayhem, clattering chaotically in all directions.
A papier-mâché dragon’s head rolls across the floor and comes to rest at Greginald’s feet, staring up at him with blank-painted accusing eyes. Just as the last tinkling teacup rolls to a stop, with a dozen pairs of congregated goblin eyes peering into the storeroom, the only sound to be heard is a small wooden skeleton marionette, furiously clapping his hands and calling out loudly:
Bravo! What an entrance! Bravo!
(Sorry Mulligan)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
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Rowan thinks about the noises he's heard and then smiles.
"These tickets we have are invitations to some sort of theatre, right?" Rowan says to the others. "It sounds to me like the carpentry shop for the set designers might be on the other side of these stone."
He reaches up one hand, getting ready to remove the stones.
"Should we go in?"
"Wait" G'Reg hisses at Rowan and his brazen haste in everything, "Maybe a little forethought here and planning. What I saw in the dream I had when I came here was very frightning but also insightful, there is a large open air amphitheatre inside the castle walls, people puttin' on plays and such like, I think that might just be what this tunnel opens up to.
Beyond that, past the bleachers and viewing galleries there is a hallway that extends into the very mountain itself and I think that is where this Endelyn resides... there is a great library of books, something it appears she collects, references, and takes for reasearch and cross examination... the contents of these books are written in the room above, there is a great big arcane structure that seems to be crafted for some kind of divination, runes are emmitted like smoke and written down to be assembled for the great library..." G'Reg ponders for a moment, "these three things, the divining room, the library, the theater, I wonder if they're connected, like a ritual for the collection of hopes and desires for destiny, That is what Endelyn craves most according to what we have been told, but the countenance.. 'She snatches the hopes' could that be what her machine is for? peoples hopes are taken and written down to be performed so that she can keep them?? this place seems latent with such things from the material realm, the gems of wishes and such... So It's not beyond the levels of impossibility for this damned place" his explanation at this point has become more of a pondering out loud than an actual informational speech, "whilst we're looking for all of the people that have been taken by her, Gleam, Golmo, the rest of the Valor's Call... perhaps we take away Endelyns power by destroying that machine.?" He looks up to the group a little surprised that he is saying all this out loud and squints his eyes for some kind of response.
While Greginald is talking, the impulsive Rowan slides the first stone out of the wall. The brigganocks have done their job well, and Rowan is quite strong - the brick comes free without a sound. Peering through the gap, the group can behold that the room on the other side is a dark store room of some kind, about twenty feet square. Crates of props are stacked in the shadows against the walls, alongside darkened wooden backdrops draped in cobwebs.
Directly opposite the tunnel opening is a short passage to the room beyond. Bright light issues from the opening, as well as much noise and movement. Several goblins can be seen bustling around, moving frequently past the opening to the store room, dressed in overalls, carrying lengths of timber or other materials, although never glancing inside the storeroom. There is a general background chatter from the goblins, most of whom are not visible, except when they pass the storeroom doorway, but it sounds like there are at least a dozen of them. The sound of hammering and sawing is now much clearer. Over the top of all this noise is a loud and authoritative female voice, shouting in Common:
No, no, no! The hemline should whisper tragedy, not shout farce! Do it again, and this time with feeling.
You there—yes, the one with the glue on his nose—don’t staple the lace to the actor’s arm again! The last understudy still hasn’t stopped bleeding!
Where’s my skull prop? I told you, it needs real teeth! The painted ones chip under the lights! And for the last time, it's Charmay! Not my lady's killer!"
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Rowan nods along as Greg speaks but he divides his attention to also watch the goblins going back and forth.
”She has a machine that steals hopes and dreams? Does that mean the person is left with no hope at all? I guess as long as you already have a pretty good life that’s not bad. But even if you hoped for a little change, she steals that? That’s really pretty evil. Of course we have to stop that machine.”
He looks back into the hallway and watches the goblins.
”They probably know where it is. And who do you think the director is? Not Creepy Lyn herself?”
While the others get ready with Greg’s plan, Rowan quietly and quickly removes the rest of the stones that were movable.
Molliver from what stories, Mulligan wonders but doesn't ask as Rowan has immediately lost interest and is listening at the stones.
Perhaps we wait until the sounds stop?
Mulligan offers the question framed advise even as G'ReG chimes in... And as Rowan ignores them both. Mulligan shakes his head and sighs but listens to what the gnome says.
Interesting theory. How does she take the hopes though? You mention a ritual but is that enough to take the hopes of anyone and everyone you wish? Or that she wish? I'm wondering if the play plays a role. Perhaps even the invitations? Perhaps watching the plays is essential? Or who knows, perhaps even being in them. With these faery rules perhaps the act of accepting the invitation to the theater is enough to then give her permission, or allowance, to take the hope?
It's vague and weird but then again so is everything today. But Mulligan thinks perhaps it makes enough of the Fae kind of sense to maybe be true.
Barria truly enjoys the hospitality of the little ones, trying to learn some of their names and relishing in the delicious food that is served. Getting a good nights rest was something she wasn't prepared for, but it happened nonetheless. Stretching and yawning loudly as she awakes, trying not to be bothered by the fact they were in fact going to use the tunnel and not go in by the front door. She tries to tell herself it is because of Glister and she didn't want him feeling not welcome.
The knocking is peculiar, she presses her ear against the wall, but as she does, Rowan starts pulling the stones out and she shrugs, waiting to see what is revealed behind them.
As Greg voices his thoughts, she nods. "You do have a way about thinking things through. And yes, I believe we should try and stop this Creepy Lynn. She doesn't sound good for Yon, whatsoever. So.. what are your plans at this moment though? Shall we just enter and find this director lady or what?"
Greg takes a peek, paying no mind to answer the questions aside from the one Barria posed. "Goblins... Hm! 'bout the same size as a gnome, same kind of ears... though I don't like to make the comparison, it is a truth... Is there any green paint in this store room? Could one of you dress me up and then I can at least vouch for us if we get stopped... though I don't speak their native tongue. It is not really a plan but maybe a cover?"
Rowan looks down at Greg.
"You want us to paint you green?" Rowan asks. He thinks about it for a moment then nods his head. "Okay."
Barria scratches her head as she looks towards the commotion again and then looks towards Mulligan, "You're probably the sneakiest of us, want to grab us some paint? Might be fun to dip ol' G'Reg here in it!"
She continues to listen though, trying to catch anything else said by the 'director'
Mulligan considers for a moment and then shrugs. He doesn't really think a g'Reen g'Reg will be that convincing as a g'Oblin but he thinks it'll be a mighty amusing thing to watch. So it is with a nod of his head in the affirmative that he steps forward and through the hole and looks for a nice shadow to climb into with the intent of sneaking into the theater staging area, or whatever it is, to try to find some green paint and "g'oBlin" attire... or whatever else may be available to be liberated for the cause...
Stealth: 22
While stealthing around, Mulligan will use his newly formed Psychic Whispers Group Chat to connect to all of the group (with level up I can connect to all know) and keep them informed of what he is seeing and such. This new group chat lasts 6 hours so we should be good to go for a while...
Quiet as a field mouse, Mulligan slips through the gap in the wall made by Rowan, and into the cramped and cluttered storage room. His tread is light and he blends with the shadows, so even though goblins are scurrying past the brightly lit doorway only a dozen feet away, none perceive the rogue in the dark room. The smells of grease and varnish and sawdust are potent, and the thuds and hammering and sawing and cursing and scraping and grinding from the workshop just a few paces yonder is so much louder now. Yet Mulligan is conscious of the proximity of the goblins, and how easily a single wrong movement or stray sound might give away his clandestine ingress.
Mulligan starts going through the piles of junk looking for green paint, or anything else that might come in handy. He quickly discovers that there isn't much in the way of raw materials (timber, fixings, paint, etc) but mostly backdrops, costumes, and props, all in varying states of disrepair...
LIST OF BACKDROPS
Wedding altar
Opulent bedroom
Banquet hall
Fancy garden
Forest road
Town square
Castle ramparts
Church interior
Crypts
High cliffs
Palace hall
Courtroom
Library
Graveyard
Battlefield
Ballroom
Library
Tavern
Planar gateway
Laboratory
Market festival
Torture Chamber
Swampland
Underdark
LIST OF COSTUMES
Fancy chef
Executioner
Monarch
Religious leader
Medic
Military officer
Gladiator
Game hunter
Maidservant
Butler
Tribal warrior
Ballroom dancer
Dragon
Circus performer
Undead fiend
Angel
Devil
Prophet
Vistani
Vagabond
LIST OF PROPS
Wedding cake
Wedding rings
Champagne bottle
Flower bouquet
Rubber wooden stake and mallet
Holy water flask
Wooden sword painted with flames
Crystal ball
Deck of cards
Tin holy symbol, silver with a red gem
Large leatherbound tome
Wine bottle
Candlestick with lit candles
Large pocket watch
Dinner table with place settings and food
Violin with bow
Pink parasol
Smoking pipe
Feather duster
Manacles
Shield emblazoned with a family crest
Saddle and tack
Stick horse (horse’s head on a long stick for riding)
Large lock with an oversized key
Barrel with a spigot
Potted plant
Moose head wall trophy
Blunderbuss
Pair of silver scissors
Skeleton marionette, tangled in strings
Handheld mirror
Ship’s wheel
Cracked scream mask in a very lifelike goblin's face
Stuffed raven
Mulligan:
Just as Mulligan is about to dig through another box of props, he senses movement nearby. 'Ello chum! speaks a voice much too loudly for Mulligan's liking. He looks toward the sound of the voice and sees the skeleton marionette laying there, its hollow eyes turned toward Mulligan. Was that...? Could it be...? Don't s'pose you could help out, gaffer? The jawbone waggles, with a voice suited for the stage. I'm in a bit of a tangle.
A goblin holding a wooden beam pauses at the doorway and looks inside the storeroom, scanning the shadows... but then shrugs and walks away.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Rowan looks through the opening in the stones, keeping an eye on Mulligan as much as he can. He cocks an eyebrow when he hears a voice.
"Did everyone hear that? Or has Mulligan's voice in my head just changed?"
The backgrounds are of little obvious value to Mulligan so he wastes little time on them, only doing a quick look through so he has some idea what is there just in case it could be relevant later. The costumes offer more promise. Maybe we cannot pain G'rEgInAlD green G'oBLiN G'ReEn but he could be draped to look like a performer.... Mulligan looks to grab the Religious Leader costume of his G'nOmE friend and scoops up the Fancy Chef costume for Barria. Depending on how bulky the costumes are and how many he thinks he can sneak back with he will also grab the Angel costume for Rowan, already putting together some amusing argument scene between the trio that they could improvise to prove they are performers if caught... Mulligan almost laughs out loud before he remembers he wants to be stealthy.
Many of the props are too large for him to consider stealthing back with, more's the pity. The Wedding Cake would fit the farcical scene in his head perfectly but it's just not practical. The Champagne bottle and Flower Bouquet should fit easily enough into his backpack though, as well as the Pink Parasol. He quickly adds the Crystal Ball, Deck of Cards, Manacles and Smoking Pipe just because... Just because. Mulligan has passed over the skeleton marionette and is picking up and considering the Cracked Scream Goblin Mask when he hears the voice.
For a split second Mulligan is caught like a deer in headlights... Err, the headlights of a carriage or buggy, of course, not some metal contraption fueled by the dead body juice of great beasts that existed long ago. No, no, no... that would be silly! So carriage lights, yeah, that's it.
After the briefest of moments being stunned by the voice of a skeleton marionette (aren't they also called dummies?) talking to him, Mulligan takes yet another moment to take in the totality of everything about him and this marionette to try to gain some insight on the situation...
Insight: 16
Though if 16 isn't good enough he will use his Psi-Bolstered Knack to increase it to a 19. The Psionic Energy Die added is only used if it doesn't make a failure turn into a success.
Hello to you as well, my friend. I'd be happy to straighten you out but in return I'm going to need you to turn down the volume and speak in a whisper. See what I'm doing is a bit of a surprise and we don't want to be drawing attention and ruining the fun too soon, do we?
Mulligan would of course adjust and tailor the above based on any insight he gained, mostly on the trying to win the skeleton over to the side of being hushed and discreet... (But don't want to actually hold up the game by waiting to see if any actual insight is gained and doing the adjusting...)
((Also note, Telepathic feat allows Mulligan to speak telepathically "to any creature you can see within 60 feet of you." So I'm guessing he can communicate with the Marionette but we'll see... So I also don't want to go too deep past trying til we know for sure.))
Oh, right. Backstage voice, eh? Got it. The skeleton’s voice drops to a conspiratorial murmur. So are you a performer? An actor? Wait, don’t tell me... you’re a mime! You don’t look miserable enough, though. All the performers I’ve met are miserable. You still have your shadow? Huh. So what are you going to perform? What’s your name, chum? I’m called Break-a-leg.
As the skeleton rambles on, Mulligan begins to form a mental picture: all these discarded props, forgotten backdrops, abandoned costumes—everywhere unwanted junk. Perhaps this skeleton, this creation, is also a reject. His jovial chatter and good humor might be exactly what made him unfit for the tragic and mournful theatre of a wicked hag.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Met some kind of sentient skeleton marionette thing. Talking to it at least enough to try to keep them to be quiet about me. Will update when I can.
Mulligan takes a quick moment to send that over Group Chat to the others so they know what is going on and aren't worried that he got overly delayed.
He considers the skeleton and the situation for a moment after listening to it, wanting to carefully choose what he says. He has his assumptions about this Break-a-leg but not everything is as it first seems, as he has come to learn. Besides, pausing a bit also gives the others a moment to respond without all the thoughts and words getting jumbled in his head at once.
I'm new. Just learning how things work around here. I was invited when I arrived and I guess I'm not sure what kind of performance I should do. Any suggestions?
Mulligan begins to slowly and carefully untangle Break-a-leg as he talks. Extremely slowly, delaying for time to try to really get a sense of what is going on before setting them free.
G'Reg receives the message from Mulligan and looks to the others with nothing but a confused shrug, he then readies himself to be painted green
The skeleton chuckles, a sound like dice rattling in a cup. Suggestion, you say? Well, chum, that depends on what sort of story you want to tell. Around here, tragedy plays best... big tears, big gasps, sorrow wrapped in silk and ashes... She loves a story where hope burns out nice and slow. What have we done in the past that's gone over well... Let's see...
There was ‘The Little Candle Girl’ — poor waif tried to sell candles on a snow-blown street. Lit them one by one for warmth, until she melted into the wax herself. Endelyn adored that one — said the ending ‘glowed with potential.’ Then came ‘The Clockwork Child’. Puppet boy learns to love, just as his maker winds him down for good. That one had the audience sobbing. Oh! And ‘The Fisherman’s Bride’ — young woman waits by the lake for her love to return, but the water only sends up his bones. But she marries the skeleton anyway, so that kinda spoiled it... too romantic. And the all-time favorite... 'The Last Feather of the Dying Swan’. Fourteen minutes of weeping before being eaten by her own reflection. Endelyn said it was ‘sublime self-consumption.’
He sighs, the sound like bones settling. Give her despair, chum, that's what she wants. Despair with taste. If the audience leaves smiling, you’ve done it wrong. Take it from me. Personal experience. If you’ve got a spark of joy in you, keep it hidden. She hates a happy ending.
The skull wobbles thoughtfully on its strings, then adds: Do you have any sad stories of your own? Real ones? Maybe do something honest. That always confuses them. Nobody up there knows what to do when someone means what they say. Imagine that! Real feeling, in a theatre.
He gives a little sigh, as if embarrassed by his own outburst. Anyway, if you need a partner, I could… y’know. Play dead. I’m good at that.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Meanwhile in the tunnel...
Glister paces nervously, glancing often into the adjacent room. She's so close now, I can feel it! He whispers in agitation. Why are we wasting time talking to puppets when she could be right upstairs!?
Amidor has been quiet, but responds to Glister's venting: Patience, my good elf. Even courage must learn to wait its cue, though I confess that lurking in the shadows is beneath my honor. What say you, my good Gnome? Dwarf? Elf?
The noises from the adjoining brightly-lit room continue to fill the darkness, including the occasional outbursts by the female voice:
Tighter at the waist! Do you think I need room to run? I'll not be measured forever. Not by thread, nor by hag.
If those ropes snap again during a performance, I'll string you up in their place. Now move!
Get that contraption ready before curtain call, or I'll tell Lady Endelyn you've been slacking. And you know what happens to goblins who waste her time!
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
With no green paint in the vicinity and giving up on his idea, the gnome shifts uncomfortably, "yes yes, I'm not the sneakiest sort but I am small, I'll go see what Mulligan is up to and see if I can find something to disguise us, if I get caught I suppose I've got this damnable invitation... Wait here" and with that he tries sneaking over to where Mulligan disappeared off to. (Stealth NAT 1 for a total of 2! lovely)
Apparently going arse over tea kettle, the gnome more or less falls out of the closet with a bang.
Greginald slips through the hole in the wall like a shadow, hardly making a sound... except that his boot kicks a loose mask on the floor, which skitters quietly across the dusty floor... and bumps into a row of stage swords leaning against the wall in a neat but precarious line. One sword tips over, hitting the sword next to it, and soon the whole stack clatters down like wind chimes, the final blade’s tip snagging the hem of a velvet curtain.
Greginald lunges to catch the curtain... but his elbow knocks over a mannequin torso behind him. It lands squarely into a trunk of juggling pins, which falls over, sending the pins scattering across the floor like startled rabbits.
Desperate to stop the pins, the gnome instead steps on one, launching it back in the other direction, into a rack of costumes. The rack creaks, tips over, and collapses into a line of painted backdrops leaning against the wall.
Whump—Thump-Whump-Thump! One after another, the great canvases fall in sequence... scenes of moonlit meadows, crumbling towers, and mournful graveyards cascading like a wordless screenplay... tumbling like dominoes in a painter’s nightmare.
Dust bursts upward in glittering plumes, and as the last backdrop topples, it strikes the top of a series of shelves holding props: a wobbling collection of candlesticks, goblets, skulls, and masks. The shelf holds...
...
...There is silence in the store room, as well as in the workshop beyond.
Then, as if for a final encore, the weakened and overloaded shelf decides to collapse, with the weary dignity of a stage veteran taking their final bow. The contents fall onto the shelf below, and those onto the one below that, causing one more giant and glorious series of crashes, and sending anything and everything that remains raining down onto the fresh piles of mayhem, clattering chaotically in all directions.
A papier-mâché dragon’s head rolls across the floor and comes to rest at Greginald’s feet, staring up at him with blank-painted accusing eyes. Just as the last tinkling teacup rolls to a stop, with a dozen pairs of congregated goblin eyes peering into the storeroom, the only sound to be heard is a small wooden skeleton marionette, furiously clapping his hands and calling out loudly:
Bravo! What an entrance! Bravo!
(Sorry Mulligan)
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?