Mulligan repeats the gesture of snatching at the air several times and then he puts his hand over his eyes as if to shade them when he looks here and there and thither and yon before then putting both hands in front of himself palms up and shrugging - TAKEN BY WHO?
"Just a loan?" Relief floods in her voice as the thought of losing her name hadn't really completely settled on her yet. She nods solemnly to the wizard's other bit of news. "The centaur.." she whispers as she pulls out her map once again and sees that the carousel is at the other end of the carnival.
She's about to thank the mysterious dwarf when she sees that he is back to ushering others into the mine. She turns towards the carnival and sees the Bubble Pop Teapot and can't help but smile. I mean, it was on the way, what's the harm in stopping? She had worked up a thirst she figured and walks in that direction, wondering about the cookie she had pocketed earlier.
G'reg knows he is in trouble, the dwarves as a race are known for their constitution, and fortitude, not only in downing serious amounts of ale but in contests like this. He stops applying pressure. Refocussing his efforts on what is in front of him... A ninth cupcake. His face sweats and pales, his eyes water as he lifts it to his mouth, but there is no taste anymore, just thick stodgy texture travelling through his pipes, clogging his gut, until the pressure makes him ready to pop, it goes down with difficulty, he feels triumphant but then it comes back up not only with ease but with surprising velocity. G'reg fountains, soaking the front rows with undigested custardy goodness. Like a rainbow, the vom arch's through the air glistening in various hues of vibrant coloured icing as the gnome is knocked out of the race.
Con save 4, for 7 custard damage. Bringing Greginald to 0hp
The gnome has the jump on Rowan, but only briefly. With remarkable speed it ducks around startled patrons and flees out of the tent and off to the right, with Rowan only a step or two behind. It takes the elf only a moment to see the gnome just a few feet away, sitting on a stool holding a wooden cane, acting like it had been relaxing there for ages, and Rowan immediately leaps onto it and tackles it to the ground.
There is a cry of alarm from all around as several onlookers crowd around the fallen gnome and his elven pursuer... including what appears to be other members of the gnome's family. The elderly gnome underneath Rowan mumbles in confusion as Rowan grips his arms tightly.
What do you think you're doing to my grandfather?
Someone call security; there's a mad elf bullying old-timers.
Is this the carnival's idea of entertainment?
Moments later, a female human carnival worker with fake butterfly wings pushes her way through the throne and taps Rowan on the shoulder.
Excuse me sir, but I saw the whole thing. Another gnome, identical to this gentleman, burst out of the tent just before you did, and fled this way. We've had some problems with a shapeshifting intruder disturbing the festivities, and while your efforts to apprehend the culprit were commendable, but I'm afraid you've been tricked.
Mulligan
The mime replies to Mulligan's question with more charades:
three fingers: THREE THIEVES? one finger: FIRST THIEF he pushes his nose in and curtseys: THE PIG-FACED GIRL! two fingers: SECOND THIEF he sqauts down and hops around like...: A FROG? he nods and holds up three fingers: THIRD THIEF
the mime stops to think about this one, then walks closer to the tent and performs a simple cantrip that summons a small orb of light. The light moves behind him as he faces the tent and points... at the tent...? The light bobs side-to-side while the mime continues to point at the tent...
Dwarf-with-no-name
A twenty-foot-tall teapot rests on a wooden platform, its painted surface whirling with moving imagery of flying dragons breathing streams of bubbles. A door at the base of the teapot allows entry to its interior; those who enter emerge from the spout enclosed in a bubble that detaches to float off across the carnival. Eight goblins sits around the platform, sipping tea from mismatched porcelain cups. A small sign at the ticket booth reads: "BACK IN 10 MINUTES" but one of the goblins waves to the dwarf, beckoning her to come and join them.
You look like you could do with a cup o' tea! he calls out.
G'Reginald
There is a good-natured mixture of cheers, laughter and sighs from the onlookers as the gnome drops out of the contest. It isn't long before the sixty seconds expires, and the dwarf is declared the winner, having stopped at ten cupcakes, and leaving too much of a gap for the tall dark human to bridge in the time left. Granny doesn't seem aware that the contest is over, or even that she was part of any contest, as she continues to nibble at her one and only cupcake.
The victorious dwarf is awarded the supposedly magical cupcake prize, and then wanders over to the gnome. Expecting a smug taunt, G'Reginald is delighted to find the dwarf offering a congratulatory handshake:
Well-played sir. Ye almost 'ad me there. It 'ardly seems fair tho... I reckon I 'ad an unfair advantage, what with that Shadow-thing ye got dancing around behind ye. Must be a terrible distraction. Aye, I ken it's the carnival's idea of a joke, but ye were a good sport about it, all the same. Cheers!
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How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
once G'Reg has picked himself up from the floor and wiped himself down, he offers the dwarf a handshake, and tries to talk to the dwarf in a tone he knows dwarves respond well to "I don't know about no shadow but ye had some disadvantages of yer own if I'm honest, I was bein a wee bit cheeky but fair's fair and ye won! Outta interest what's tha shadow round me looking like?" The little mage hand gives the dwarf a little wave as Greg describes his cheekiness, and then dissipates.
The dwarf is a bit mesmerized by the swirling images of dragons on the giant teapot in front of her and the goblin's call doesn't register right away. She smiles as she watches others leave in a bubble to float over the carnival. She finds that knowing the loss of her name is only temporary, she can enjoy the carnival again. That, and she might have a lead to finding her old recipe.
Finally she looks over to the goblin and her smile turns into a grin as she walks over to him. "You're right! I sure could do with a cup o' tea. Also, do you happen to know the time?" And if there's a spot to sit, she'll join them.
Mulligan puts the words into the mime's head, not able to think of what else they may mean and waiting for more clues. Whether he guesses correctly or not Mulligan puts another word into the mime's head....
Security?
As in why is nobody stopping the thieves. If these thieves are stealing more than potential grooms, if they are stealing colors and voices and who knows what else, and specially if they have been identified... Why have they not been stopped? It may be a big presumption to assume they are the ones responsible for his lost item but if so then they have been working this carnival for a long, long time seemingly freely. Mulligan will expand on his question if need be but he suspects the one word really asks it all.
Rowan straightens his own fake wings and then looks from the carnival worker to the elderly gnome.
He’s not sure what came over him to actually give chase and tackle this gnome. It had just been some harmless mischief. But there was something about the energy of this place that was making it hard for Rowan to keep his emotions in check.
He smiles broadly at both the carnival worker and the gnome before bowing deeply to the gnome.
”I don’t normally go around tackling elderly gnomes. Nor really any gnomes if I think about it. There are some young bugbears near our village that throw apples at me sometimes and I have tackled a couple of them but you’re not a bugbear, right? And really what are a few strings pulled at a puppet show. It was a nice performance though. The names were difficult to pronounce but still nice.”
Rowan pauses to take a breath before continuing but then he stops again. The look he’s getting from the gnome and carnival worker look familiar. Where had he seen it before? Was it his father? Someone who appears to disapprove of most things.
Instead he turns and heads down the lane of the carnival without saying goodbye. He looks at his map to see where the Feasting Orchard is located. Mr Midnight mentioned music there.
The dwarf chuckles at the revelation of the gnome's good-natured magical cheating, and gives him a hearty slap on the shoulder. As for the shadow, he replies thus:
Ah, I thought ye knew. They have some funny tricks at this place, ya ken. Sometimes instead of askin' money they make yer head turn into a pumpkin, or make ye forget things, or somethin'. I figured ye had a extra shadow or some such trick fer somethin' ye did.
It was like the shadow of a slender lass with a moon-shaped thing on 'er head.
The dwarf shrugs.
That's all I could see. It moved off in that direction.
He points in the direction of the pond where the dragonfly rides are hosted.
The Dwarf who remembers her name
The goblin offers his chair to the dwarf and asks her name, whereupon she finds she can now remember it, and can introduce herself again as she wishes. He introduces himself as Treaclewise, then pulls a small teabag from a wooden box, tosses it into the air, and a cup of steaming tea magically appears in front of Barria; it has a delicious floral aroma with a hint of vanilla. Treaclewise also holds out a plate of now-familiar-looking seed & nut cookies...
The time? Well it's just over two hours until the Big Top Extravaganza, my dear. If it's a bubble ride you're after, the teapot will open again shortly, just as soon as we've finished our tea. Are you having a wonderful, magical time so far?
Mulligan
When the word "Shadow" enters the mime's mind, he points and taps his nose, to affirm the correct answer. As for the question of security, the mime nods to indicate he understands the question, then simply shrugs and puts his hands to the side palms up. He motions around the whole carnival, and then draws finger and thumb across his lips, closing them tightly.
Finally, the mime performs a short series of charades. He points to himself, holds up two fingers, mimes striking a match and lighting a candle, and then points at his own foot. He then points at himself again, and extends a hand as if for a handshake. Is he introducing himself?
Rowan
As Rowan departs, he can hear the old gnome rambling to his family about the good old days fighting kobolds in the Nashkel mines, so despite his initial disapproval, he seems to have quickly returned to a good humor.
Making his way through the crowd and around the northern circle of the carnival, Rowan comes soon to the Feasting Orchard. Music and mirth radiate from this park, and the heady scents of flowers, mead, and berry pie waft through the air. Stilt-walkers pluck fruit from trees; musicians drum, pipe, and strum; and everywhere there is singing, dancing, and an inordinate amount of custard.
Most of the musical action is currently centered around a large pear tree, where a gnome with a lute is seated on a swing hanging from the tree's branches, leading the communal jam-session.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
"I'll be off and investigate, I paid my coin like everyone else so likely there's a game a foot eh? Ye enjoy yer winnin's lad!" And with a cheeky grin, Greginald wipes the rest of the crumbs off his front and starts heading toward the dragonfly rides.
With his mood much improved, G'Reginald strolls over to the entrance of the neighbouring attraction. A large archway rises over the entrance, and a small oak tree is planted beside it with golden streamers hanging in its foliage and a pair of fake buttefly wings, like those the carnival workers wear, attached to its trunk. Just as G'Reginald moves to enter the archway, the tree moves! Its branches shudder, the whole trunk lifts and turns on roots that move like legs, and a face forms in the bark. What passes for a mouth opens and says in a cheerful voice:
Good evening, sir! Are you having an enjoyable time at the carnival? Have you come for a dragonfly ride?
A red squirrel hops around on the branches as the tree appears to bend and lower and sit down on the ground.
As the realization of her name returning dawns on her, Barria claps as she sits down. "Well, my name is Barria Copperkettle and I'm so happy to be able to tell you! I just got it back after apparently loaning my name to a coat vendor. What a strange idea! But all is good now. And very nice to meet you Treaclewise."
She takes the teacup and holds it under her nose, breathing in the aromatic scent. "Mmmm" she breathes out, enjoying it thoroughly. Looking at the plate of cookies, she pulls out the one she received from the mine, and holds it up. "What's the difference between those and this one?"
She thinks about his question and finally answers, "I am. Though I have been trying to find something I lost a long time ago here and that isn't going well."
Unperturbed by the strange in this place G'Reg greets the tree with a short bow and answers, "yes! Uh no, erm, hello master tree, I'm actually here in search of a shadow, female, moon headed, would you perchance have seen such a being?" G'reg's eyes can't help but follow the squirrel too as it bounds around the branches, wholly distracting the gnome, "uh greetings to your resident friend there too!"
Rowan frowns slightly at the sight of all the custard.
"That's going to make someone sick if they eat too much of it. I'd hate to be around when it all comes back up," he says to himself, having never been a fan of the creamy, sugary dessert.
When he spots the musicians and the jam session his smile comes back wider than ever. He watches the gnome for a few moments, trying to get the sense of the music and the tune the group is playing together.
Though he doesn't quite have the sense of the piece, he does seem to manage to at least stay on beat with everyone as he joins in with his lute.
Performance (11-1) =10
As he plays, he calls over to the swinging gnome.
"Are you part of the carnival? Are you playing at the big midnight something show? I think I'll join in then too. What did you string your lute with? I knew someone who swore by goatgut but I don't like goats very much. They have a lot of opinions and I think that is reflected in the sound the strings make. Mine's strung from the gut of a mule who died of old age. It's not as lively but it does give it a nice somber and mature sound I think. I'm Rowan. I think we'll be working together soon."
The guesses enter the mime's head slowly so that they could express how close or far off they may be. When, or perhaps IF Mulligan eventually figures out the name he will of course give the mime a "Pleased to meet you," and a "I'm Mulligan O'Menihan" while he shakes the man's hand.
These thieves steal from Carnie and Visitor alike, it seems.
He broadcasts these words to the mime but he is mostly just thinking to himself, trying to puzzle things out. He's trying to figure out if the thieves have a pattern for their thefts or if it is just random acts of opportunity. Mulligan looks back to the halfling woman, assumedly still distraught and sitting on the ground nearby. Is she wearing wings like the vast majority of guests? Or more importantly, he tries to recall if he potential groom was... It seems Wicktoe, or whoever the mime may be, was targeted for snooping around. He guesses the woman's laughter was a side effect of the cabinet, likely meant to be an amusing prank and not a lead up to kidnapping... But if the male had no wings then perhaps that is how the guests are targeted? He himself ((I assume)) had no wings on his first visit. You get them when you enter the carnival. After paying. He had skipped that part the first time...
(If he male halfling wore no wings he asks the mime:)
Is it just the guests without wings that are targeted? Perhaps because they snuck in? Or does that at least seem right?
(If the male was with wings or Mulligan can't recall, he just asks outright;)
Do you have any idea why guests are targeted? Is it just to steal or is there a reason or pattern?
The cookies the goblins are offering are clearly the same as the one Barria is carrying, which is also identical to the one she ate earlier, and which Zephixo referred to as "Euphoreo". Treaclewise says as much, admitting that they are quite potent and should probably be consumed sparingly under normal circumstances, but that it's a carnival after all, so why not let loose a little. The other goblins murmur in agreement.
At the mention of searching for her lost thing, the goblins all mutter in assent, but say very little. Treaclewise stirs his own tea with one long fingernail, staring pensively into the cup, before answering cryptically:
We just wants everybody to have a good time here, Barria, so we isn't supposed to talk about sad thinks. But I hears ya. All I can says is this: You made a deal tonight, didn't ya? With the coat vendor, ya says. For ya name. Now ya gots it back. Well, what does he do with it for an hour, I asks? Maybe the deal ya makes with him and you doesn't just affect him and you. Who knows? Same with lots of deals. A certain someone makes a deal with a certain someone else, and the end result is that ya loses somethink, and so does lots of others. "Nothink gained, nothink lost, everythink has it's cost", as old Nicholas Midnight says. But it hurts to not know why, and it's not for us to tell.
G'Reginald
The gnome clearly hears a snort of derision from the squirrel as G'Reginald refers to the tree as "Master Tree". The tree responds with slightly embarrassed rustle of his leaves:
Ah, thank you, but just Northwind is fine. I'm only a young tree after all, barely more than a sapling, there's no need for that kind of formality. Haha.
At the mention of the shadow, the squirrel stops moving and remains stock-still, staring at G'Reginald, his eyes darting back and forth to Northwind's face. Northwind however immediately starts to reply, with an eager voice:
Oh yes, of course. That's Gleam, she's was...
Northwind is cut off by the squirrel, who clearly says "Shush!" while smacking Northwind on the bark with one paw.
Oh. Oops! says Northwind softly, his leaves rustling with embarrassment.
Rowan
There's no judgment here at the Feasting Orchard communal jam session, and Rowan gets a few friendly nods from the other amateur musicians who are joining in. Clearly though the gnome bard is the one pulling all the harmonies and rhythms in together, and it sounds delightful no matter what anyone is playing. When the music reaches a natural break, Rowan makes his introductions, and the bard beckons him over and takes a seat on the ground to have a chat.
Rowan! I'm Ellywick Tumblestrum. How lovely to see you again! No, I'm not part of the carnival, and I don't think I'll stick around for the show, but I wish you luck! My strings? Thanks for asking! Well the first two courses are made from Harpweed from Silverymoon, soaked in sap from the Whisperwood of the garden of the Court of the Summer Queen. The next two courses are Unicorn Hair from the Welkwood of Greyhawk, tempered with moonlight from all three moons of the world of Krynn. And the bottom four are of drawn Mithril from four different worlds, with tiny runes etched by the Cannith Artificers of Khorvaire from Eberron. How does it sound?
And with that, the gnome called Ellywick strums her lute again...
Mulligan
With a few more simple charades, the mime corrects Mulligan's guesses, and his name is revealed: Candlefoot. The handshake is returned with a short bow.
Mulligan's recalls that both halflings were wearing wings, so he asks about the pattern the thieves are using. Candlefoot counts absently on his fingers to indicate there are a number of reasons, then tries to elaborate:
- one finger. sneaking, finger shake, stealing. points to himself, ducks down slightly. SOME ARE ROBBED, BECAUSE THEY SNEAK IN, INCLUDING CANDLEFOOT HIMSELF, WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER.
- two fingers. crying. comforting. handshake. beckoning. point at halfling and then at the Hall. OTHERS, BECAUSE THEY ARE SAD, MAKE A DEAL FOR COMFORT, AND ARE LED AWAY. LIKE RUBIN.
Rowan listens intently to the description of the strings.
"I don't think I've heard of any of those places except Silverymoon. Greyhawk did you say? And Krynn? Are they far away? Maybe on the other side of the Sea of Fallen Stars? But they do all sound wonderful." Rowan says.
He listens for a moment longer before Ellywick's introduction finally rings in his head.
"I'm sorry, but did you say it was lovely to see me again?" Rowan asks. He looks very closely at Ellywick and frowns. "Have you been to my village? There are many elves who have passed through and I'm sure I don't remember any of their names, but I'm usually pretty good with faces. And only a few gnomes ever pass our way. It would be nice if more did but of the ones who did, none of them were you, of that I'm sure. Do you think you might be mistaken? Is it the blooming flowers? That's how most remember me. But where did we meet?"
So you were a guest. Before you worked here. So these thieves don't steal from workers?
Mulligan mulls on this information. So the groom wasn't stolen but rather made a deal in a moment of weakness. Mulligan wasn't a lawyer but he had heard stories about how faerie deals always bit you in the ass, eventually, and were notoriously hard to break. He frowned at this thought and the assumption it probably meant he couldn't do much to help the once potentially happy couple. Not that any of this meant he could do anything to help himself, either. He's only assuming he was stolen from because he snuck in. He could have lost for an entirely different reason... But still, it was a lead. Potentially...
I don't suppose you know where to find the thieves?
Obviously roaming around the carnival but he wondered if perhaps there was a certain location. He had spotted the pig masked girl earlier, just walking between attractions. He supposed, like any thief, they didn't stick to one spot.
I aim to try to find them. At least one. I think maybe they stole something of mine. I would like it back.
Mulligan pauses and considers for a moment before continuing...
I don't know what to say to her. Afraid if I told her she would get hope I don't feel it right to give her since I know so little. I guess I will just let the carnival do what they do for such people? But I do thank you for your help.
With that said, Mulligan gives him another shake of the hands before he begins drifting away off into the carnival, trying not to see or be seen by the halfling woman as he feels he has failed he somehow... Mulligan heads back the way he came - towards the Big Top but not exactly heading there as just in that general direction. Mostly he is looking for a pig masked girl, a frog of some kind or a likely looking shadow? Not great descriptions to go on, though he has seen the girl before, so he is keeping his eyes peeled for anything which may arose his curiosity...
G'Reginald uses a mold earth cantrip to form himself a seating stump of dirt next to Northwind sitting and rubbing his feet making out that a rest is well needed, as he makes small talk and performs a harmless ritual. The next ten minutes are a relaxed but distracted bevvy of questions aimed at Northwind, ranging from the "how are you?" To the "what brought you to the carnival in the first place" and finally "who is your friend here?" Referencing the squirrel. All the while G'Reg will let Northwind do what he must in greeting other patrons of the carnival, but he himself doesn't enter the dragonfly riding just yet.
At the end of the ritual G'Reg has summoned a familiar, a small weasel which darts back and forth across G'Reg's shoulders similar to how the squirrel darts around Northwind's branches.
Then the weasel begins it's playful chase of the squirrel, hoping to bait the animal into some kind of chase play and give G'Reg and Northwind some freedom to talk without interruption.
Far away, yes! replies Ellywick. Not just other lands, but other worlds and other times.
Then in regards to her allusion to a prior meeting, she laughs and replies:
Oh, did I say that? Perhaps this is the first time we've met. I get confused. Never mind all that; I have a question for you. If you could have your heart's desire, what would you be willing to give to have it?
Then without waiting for an answer, the gnome strums her lute and starts singing the words of a song. It switches from a slow waltz to a lilting ballad, and back again, with a bridge like a sombre nocturne. The music is far superior to that which he heard on arrival at the orchard, and Rowan closes his eyes as he is swept away with wonder at the melody and the strange but oddly familiar images that the lyrics conjure in his mind:
In a palace of glass where the dream-silver flows, Where the stars kiss the vines and the moonflower grows, Lives a queen crowned in frost, with a laugh like a chime, Zybilna the wondrous, the weaver of time.
Zybilna, bright Zybilna, with crown of woven light, You bless the brave and kind of heart who walk in truth and right. Through thicket, glade, and rillet, your magic never tires You grant the worthy wandering soul their deepest heart’s desire.
She walks in disguise through the faerie parade, A dancer, a whisper, a shadow in shade. In Prismeer she rules, though the hourglass turn, Brave mortals importune her justice to earn.
Zybilna, bold Zybilna, enchantress of the stars, Your laughter echoes through the land in chimes of crystal spars. Though covens scheme and time stands still, your spirit never tires— You grant the worthy wandering soul their deepest heart’s desire.
And if a soul should venture to brightest orchards thither, To yon eternal towers, and fields of flowers hither— Each path winds strange and perilous, yet hope will still appear, For those who brave the faerie ways to find Zybilna dear.
Zybilna, lost Zybilna, the star in slumber’s keep, Awaken now, and bless again the dreams that dare to leap. Let mortals walk with courage bright through thorn and darkest mire— To find the queen, and in her grace, their truest heart’s desire.
The music fades, and Rowan opens his eyes. He is seated alone under the pear tree. The gnome is gone.
Mulligan
Candlefoot nods in confirmation that he first came to the carnival as a visitor, before staying on as a crew member. In regards to where to find the thieves, he simply shrugs and shakes his head in apology. Before Mulligan departs however, Candlefoot shares one more cryptic piece of sign language.
points to self, mimes sound coming from his mouth, snatching, shakes head - MY VOICE, NOT STOLEN points to self, mimes sound coming from his mouth, mimes two hands trading something, wings flapping - MY VOICE, TRADED WITH, A BIRD?? mimes squinting with hand to brow, wings flapping, hand at head height - LOOK FOR A BIRD, AS TALL AS ME
With this information of dubious utility in mind, Mulligan heads off again in search of the thieves. His practiced eye watches the crowds carefully, making note of anything unusual or out of place among the milling throng. Some things catch his attention momentarily, but then are dismissed as a regular part of the entertainment... - A shriek from overhead... it is only a child shrieking in delight as they fly overhead in a bubble - A puff of glitter and a man's head suddenly turns into the head of a braying donkey... but soon turns back again to the amusement of both his friends and a group of giggling, mischievous pixies. - A shout of anger... it is two girls in face paint (one as a lion, the other as a hart) squabbling over a painted wooden crown that their mother won at a game - A loud squawk and a scream from the Snail Racing arena... one of the giant snails breaks through a barricade and careens into the nearby crowd. A large red hawk is on the track, as motionless as a picture, but it suddenly vanishes - an illusion? Apart from the startled crowd, Mulligan sees a human woman run from the edge of the barricade into cover behind the nearest tent, but still in view of Mulligan's position ... in a puff of black feathers she suddenly changes into ... a male dwarf strolling nonchalantly toward the Hall of Illusions. A shapeshifter? This does not have the hallmarks of a carnival-endorsed prank. No one else seems to have noticed the prankster, and neither would Mulligan had he not been both actively scanning the crowd and fortuitously looking in that direction at the time.
G'reginald
Greginald's patience, both with taking the time to perform the ritual, and to listen to the young treant's juvenile rambling answers, is rewarded. Although the squirrel is at first vigilant, before long he becomes bored of the innocuous exchange and looks around distractedly. This corresponds nicely with the appearance of the weasel, who runs up the treant and plucks an acorn ... the squirrel is immediately occupied with chasing after the weasel and the ill-gotten acorn, leaving Greginald to direct the discussion more to his liking. How long the suspicious squirrel can stay sidetracking however, is uncertain; Greginald knows he may need to be efficient with his questions...
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How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
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Mulligan repeats the gesture of snatching at the air several times and then he puts his hand over his eyes as if to shade them when he looks here and there and thither and yon before then putting both hands in front of himself palms up and shrugging - TAKEN BY WHO?
The dwarf
"Just a loan?" Relief floods in her voice as the thought of losing her name hadn't really completely settled on her yet. She nods solemnly to the wizard's other bit of news. "The centaur.." she whispers as she pulls out her map once again and sees that the carousel is at the other end of the carnival.
She's about to thank the mysterious dwarf when she sees that he is back to ushering others into the mine. She turns towards the carnival and sees the Bubble Pop Teapot and can't help but smile. I mean, it was on the way, what's the harm in stopping? She had worked up a thirst she figured and walks in that direction, wondering about the cookie she had pocketed earlier.
Greginald's mess.
G'reg knows he is in trouble, the dwarves as a race are known for their constitution, and fortitude, not only in downing serious amounts of ale but in contests like this. He stops applying pressure. Refocussing his efforts on what is in front of him... A ninth cupcake. His face sweats and pales, his eyes water as he lifts it to his mouth, but there is no taste anymore, just thick stodgy texture travelling through his pipes, clogging his gut, until the pressure makes him ready to pop, it goes down with difficulty, he feels triumphant but then it comes back up not only with ease but with surprising velocity. G'reg fountains, soaking the front rows with undigested custardy goodness. Like a rainbow, the vom arch's through the air glistening in various hues of vibrant coloured icing as the gnome is knocked out of the race.
Con save 4, for 7 custard damage. Bringing Greginald to 0hp
Rowan
The gnome has the jump on Rowan, but only briefly. With remarkable speed it ducks around startled patrons and flees out of the tent and off to the right, with Rowan only a step or two behind. It takes the elf only a moment to see the gnome just a few feet away, sitting on a stool holding a wooden cane, acting like it had been relaxing there for ages, and Rowan immediately leaps onto it and tackles it to the ground.
There is a cry of alarm from all around as several onlookers crowd around the fallen gnome and his elven pursuer... including what appears to be other members of the gnome's family. The elderly gnome underneath Rowan mumbles in confusion as Rowan grips his arms tightly.
What do you think you're doing to my grandfather?
Someone call security; there's a mad elf bullying old-timers.
Is this the carnival's idea of entertainment?
Moments later, a female human carnival worker with fake butterfly wings pushes her way through the throne and taps Rowan on the shoulder.
Excuse me sir, but I saw the whole thing. Another gnome, identical to this gentleman, burst out of the tent just before you did, and fled this way. We've had some problems with a shapeshifting intruder disturbing the festivities, and while your efforts to apprehend the culprit were commendable, but I'm afraid you've been tricked.
Mulligan
The mime replies to Mulligan's question with more charades:
three fingers: THREE THIEVES?
one finger: FIRST THIEF
he pushes his nose in and curtseys: THE PIG-FACED GIRL!
two fingers: SECOND THIEF
he sqauts down and hops around like...: A FROG?
he nods and holds up three fingers: THIRD THIEF
the mime stops to think about this one, then walks closer to the tent and performs a simple cantrip that summons a small orb of light. The light moves behind him as he faces the tent and points... at the tent...? The light bobs side-to-side while the mime continues to point at the tent...
Dwarf-with-no-name
A twenty-foot-tall teapot rests on a wooden platform, its painted surface whirling with moving imagery of flying dragons breathing streams of bubbles. A door at the base of the teapot allows entry to its interior; those who enter emerge from the spout enclosed in a bubble that detaches to float off across the carnival. Eight goblins sits around the platform, sipping tea from mismatched porcelain cups. A small sign at the ticket booth reads: "BACK IN 10 MINUTES" but one of the goblins waves to the dwarf, beckoning her to come and join them.
You look like you could do with a cup o' tea! he calls out.
G'Reginald
There is a good-natured mixture of cheers, laughter and sighs from the onlookers as the gnome drops out of the contest. It isn't long before the sixty seconds expires, and the dwarf is declared the winner, having stopped at ten cupcakes, and leaving too much of a gap for the tall dark human to bridge in the time left. Granny doesn't seem aware that the contest is over, or even that she was part of any contest, as she continues to nibble at her one and only cupcake.
The victorious dwarf is awarded the supposedly magical cupcake prize, and then wanders over to the gnome. Expecting a smug taunt, G'Reginald is delighted to find the dwarf offering a congratulatory handshake:
Well-played sir. Ye almost 'ad me there. It 'ardly seems fair tho... I reckon I 'ad an unfair advantage, what with that Shadow-thing ye got dancing around behind ye. Must be a terrible distraction. Aye, I ken it's the carnival's idea of a joke, but ye were a good sport about it, all the same. Cheers!
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Greginald's cleanup
once G'Reg has picked himself up from the floor and wiped himself down, he offers the dwarf a handshake, and tries to talk to the dwarf in a tone he knows dwarves respond well to "I don't know about no shadow but ye had some disadvantages of yer own if I'm honest, I was bein a wee bit cheeky but fair's fair and ye won! Outta interest what's tha shadow round me looking like?" The little mage hand gives the dwarf a little wave as Greg describes his cheekiness, and then dissipates.
The dwarf
The dwarf is a bit mesmerized by the swirling images of dragons on the giant teapot in front of her and the goblin's call doesn't register right away. She smiles as she watches others leave in a bubble to float over the carnival. She finds that knowing the loss of her name is only temporary, she can enjoy the carnival again. That, and she might have a lead to finding her old recipe.
Finally she looks over to the goblin and her smile turns into a grin as she walks over to him. "You're right! I sure could do with a cup o' tea. Also, do you happen to know the time?" And if there's a spot to sit, she'll join them.
Shadow? Spotlight?
Mulligan puts the words into the mime's head, not able to think of what else they may mean and waiting for more clues. Whether he guesses correctly or not Mulligan puts another word into the mime's head....
Security?
As in why is nobody stopping the thieves. If these thieves are stealing more than potential grooms, if they are stealing colors and voices and who knows what else, and specially if they have been identified... Why have they not been stopped? It may be a big presumption to assume they are the ones responsible for his lost item but if so then they have been working this carnival for a long, long time seemingly freely. Mulligan will expand on his question if need be but he suspects the one word really asks it all.
Rowan
Rowan straightens his own fake wings and then looks from the carnival worker to the elderly gnome.
He’s not sure what came over him to actually give chase and tackle this gnome. It had just been some harmless mischief. But there was something about the energy of this place that was making it hard for Rowan to keep his emotions in check.
He smiles broadly at both the carnival worker and the gnome before bowing deeply to the gnome.
”I don’t normally go around tackling elderly gnomes. Nor really any gnomes if I think about it. There are some young bugbears near our village that throw apples at me sometimes and I have tackled a couple of them but you’re not a bugbear, right? And really what are a few strings pulled at a puppet show. It was a nice performance though. The names were difficult to pronounce but still nice.”
Rowan pauses to take a breath before continuing but then he stops again. The look he’s getting from the gnome and carnival worker look familiar. Where had he seen it before? Was it his father? Someone who appears to disapprove of most things.
Instead he turns and heads down the lane of the carnival without saying goodbye. He looks at his map to see where the Feasting Orchard is located. Mr Midnight mentioned music there.
G'Reginald
The dwarf chuckles at the revelation of the gnome's good-natured magical cheating, and gives him a hearty slap on the shoulder. As for the shadow, he replies thus:
Ah, I thought ye knew. They have some funny tricks at this place, ya ken. Sometimes instead of askin' money they make yer head turn into a pumpkin, or make ye forget things, or somethin'. I figured ye had a extra shadow or some such trick fer somethin' ye did.
It was like the shadow of a slender lass with a moon-shaped thing on 'er head.
The dwarf shrugs.
That's all I could see. It moved off in that direction.
He points in the direction of the pond where the dragonfly rides are hosted.
The Dwarf who remembers her name
The goblin offers his chair to the dwarf and asks her name, whereupon she finds she can now remember it, and can introduce herself again as she wishes. He introduces himself as Treaclewise, then pulls a small teabag from a wooden box, tosses it into the air, and a cup of steaming tea magically appears in front of Barria; it has a delicious floral aroma with a hint of vanilla. Treaclewise also holds out a plate of now-familiar-looking seed & nut cookies...
The time? Well it's just over two hours until the Big Top Extravaganza, my dear. If it's a bubble ride you're after, the teapot will open again shortly, just as soon as we've finished our tea. Are you having a wonderful, magical time so far?
Mulligan
When the word "Shadow" enters the mime's mind, he points and taps his nose, to affirm the correct answer. As for the question of security, the mime nods to indicate he understands the question, then simply shrugs and puts his hands to the side palms up. He motions around the whole carnival, and then draws finger and thumb across his lips, closing them tightly.
Finally, the mime performs a short series of charades. He points to himself, holds up two fingers, mimes striking a match and lighting a candle, and then points at his own foot. He then points at himself again, and extends a hand as if for a handshake. Is he introducing himself?
Rowan
As Rowan departs, he can hear the old gnome rambling to his family about the good old days fighting kobolds in the Nashkel mines, so despite his initial disapproval, he seems to have quickly returned to a good humor.
Making his way through the crowd and around the northern circle of the carnival, Rowan comes soon to the Feasting Orchard. Music and mirth radiate from this park, and the heady scents of flowers, mead, and berry pie waft through the air. Stilt-walkers pluck fruit from trees; musicians drum, pipe, and strum; and everywhere there is singing, dancing, and an inordinate amount of custard.
Most of the musical action is currently centered around a large pear tree, where a gnome with a lute is seated on a swing hanging from the tree's branches, leading the communal jam-session.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
G'Reginald's curiosity.
"I'll be off and investigate, I paid my coin like everyone else so likely there's a game a foot eh? Ye enjoy yer winnin's lad!" And with a cheeky grin, Greginald wipes the rest of the crumbs off his front and starts heading toward the dragonfly rides.
G'Reginald
With his mood much improved, G'Reginald strolls over to the entrance of the neighbouring attraction. A large archway rises over the entrance, and a small oak tree is planted beside it with golden streamers hanging in its foliage and a pair of fake buttefly wings, like those the carnival workers wear, attached to its trunk. Just as G'Reginald moves to enter the archway, the tree moves! Its branches shudder, the whole trunk lifts and turns on roots that move like legs, and a face forms in the bark. What passes for a mouth opens and says in a cheerful voice:
Good evening, sir! Are you having an enjoyable time at the carnival? Have you come for a dragonfly ride?
A red squirrel hops around on the branches as the tree appears to bend and lower and sit down on the ground.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Barria
As the realization of her name returning dawns on her, Barria claps as she sits down. "Well, my name is Barria Copperkettle and I'm so happy to be able to tell you! I just got it back after apparently loaning my name to a coat vendor. What a strange idea! But all is good now. And very nice to meet you Treaclewise."
She takes the teacup and holds it under her nose, breathing in the aromatic scent. "Mmmm" she breathes out, enjoying it thoroughly. Looking at the plate of cookies, she pulls out the one she received from the mine, and holds it up. "What's the difference between those and this one?"
She thinks about his question and finally answers, "I am. Though I have been trying to find something I lost a long time ago here and that isn't going well."
G'Reginald's confusion.
Unperturbed by the strange in this place G'Reg greets the tree with a short bow and answers, "yes! Uh no, erm, hello master tree, I'm actually here in search of a shadow, female, moon headed, would you perchance have seen such a being?" G'reg's eyes can't help but follow the squirrel too as it bounds around the branches, wholly distracting the gnome, "uh greetings to your resident friend there too!"
Rowan
Rowan frowns slightly at the sight of all the custard.
"That's going to make someone sick if they eat too much of it. I'd hate to be around when it all comes back up," he says to himself, having never been a fan of the creamy, sugary dessert.
When he spots the musicians and the jam session his smile comes back wider than ever. He watches the gnome for a few moments, trying to get the sense of the music and the tune the group is playing together.
Though he doesn't quite have the sense of the piece, he does seem to manage to at least stay on beat with everyone as he joins in with his lute.
Performance (11-1) =10
As he plays, he calls over to the swinging gnome.
"Are you part of the carnival? Are you playing at the big midnight something show? I think I'll join in then too. What did you string your lute with? I knew someone who swore by goatgut but I don't like goats very much. They have a lot of opinions and I think that is reflected in the sound the strings make. Mine's strung from the gut of a mule who died of old age. It's not as lively but it does give it a nice somber and mature sound I think. I'm Rowan. I think we'll be working together soon."
Lightfoot? Candleshoe? Wicktoe?
The guesses enter the mime's head slowly so that they could express how close or far off they may be. When, or perhaps IF Mulligan eventually figures out the name he will of course give the mime a "Pleased to meet you," and a "I'm Mulligan O'Menihan" while he shakes the man's hand.
These thieves steal from Carnie and Visitor alike, it seems.
He broadcasts these words to the mime but he is mostly just thinking to himself, trying to puzzle things out. He's trying to figure out if the thieves have a pattern for their thefts or if it is just random acts of opportunity. Mulligan looks back to the halfling woman, assumedly still distraught and sitting on the ground nearby. Is she wearing wings like the vast majority of guests? Or more importantly, he tries to recall if he potential groom was... It seems Wicktoe, or whoever the mime may be, was targeted for snooping around. He guesses the woman's laughter was a side effect of the cabinet, likely meant to be an amusing prank and not a lead up to kidnapping... But if the male had no wings then perhaps that is how the guests are targeted? He himself ((I assume)) had no wings on his first visit. You get them when you enter the carnival. After paying. He had skipped that part the first time...
(If he male halfling wore no wings he asks the mime:)
Is it just the guests without wings that are targeted? Perhaps because they snuck in? Or does that at least seem right?
(If the male was with wings or Mulligan can't recall, he just asks outright;)
Do you have any idea why guests are targeted? Is it just to steal or is there a reason or pattern?
Barria
The cookies the goblins are offering are clearly the same as the one Barria is carrying, which is also identical to the one she ate earlier, and which Zephixo referred to as "Euphoreo". Treaclewise says as much, admitting that they are quite potent and should probably be consumed sparingly under normal circumstances, but that it's a carnival after all, so why not let loose a little. The other goblins murmur in agreement.
At the mention of searching for her lost thing, the goblins all mutter in assent, but say very little. Treaclewise stirs his own tea with one long fingernail, staring pensively into the cup, before answering cryptically:
We just wants everybody to have a good time here, Barria, so we isn't supposed to talk about sad thinks. But I hears ya. All I can says is this: You made a deal tonight, didn't ya? With the coat vendor, ya says. For ya name. Now ya gots it back. Well, what does he do with it for an hour, I asks? Maybe the deal ya makes with him and you doesn't just affect him and you. Who knows? Same with lots of deals. A certain someone makes a deal with a certain someone else, and the end result is that ya loses somethink, and so does lots of others. "Nothink gained, nothink lost, everythink has it's cost", as old Nicholas Midnight says. But it hurts to not know why, and it's not for us to tell.
G'Reginald
The gnome clearly hears a snort of derision from the squirrel as G'Reginald refers to the tree as "Master Tree". The tree responds with slightly embarrassed rustle of his leaves:
Ah, thank you, but just Northwind is fine. I'm only a young tree after all, barely more than a sapling, there's no need for that kind of formality. Haha.
At the mention of the shadow, the squirrel stops moving and remains stock-still, staring at G'Reginald, his eyes darting back and forth to Northwind's face. Northwind however immediately starts to reply, with an eager voice:
Oh yes, of course. That's Gleam, she's was...
Northwind is cut off by the squirrel, who clearly says "Shush!" while smacking Northwind on the bark with one paw.
Oh. Oops! says Northwind softly, his leaves rustling with embarrassment.
Rowan
There's no judgment here at the Feasting Orchard communal jam session, and Rowan gets a few friendly nods from the other amateur musicians who are joining in. Clearly though the gnome bard is the one pulling all the harmonies and rhythms in together, and it sounds delightful no matter what anyone is playing. When the music reaches a natural break, Rowan makes his introductions, and the bard beckons him over and takes a seat on the ground to have a chat.
Rowan! I'm Ellywick Tumblestrum. How lovely to see you again! No, I'm not part of the carnival, and I don't think I'll stick around for the show, but I wish you luck! My strings? Thanks for asking! Well the first two courses are made from Harpweed from Silverymoon, soaked in sap from the Whisperwood of the garden of the Court of the Summer Queen. The next two courses are Unicorn Hair from the Welkwood of Greyhawk, tempered with moonlight from all three moons of the world of Krynn. And the bottom four are of drawn Mithril from four different worlds, with tiny runes etched by the Cannith Artificers of Khorvaire from Eberron. How does it sound?
And with that, the gnome called Ellywick strums her lute again...
Mulligan
With a few more simple charades, the mime corrects Mulligan's guesses, and his name is revealed: Candlefoot. The handshake is returned with a short bow.
Mulligan's recalls that both halflings were wearing wings, so he asks about the pattern the thieves are using. Candlefoot counts absently on his fingers to indicate there are a number of reasons, then tries to elaborate:
- one finger. sneaking, finger shake, stealing. points to himself, ducks down slightly. SOME ARE ROBBED, BECAUSE THEY SNEAK IN, INCLUDING CANDLEFOOT HIMSELF, WHEN HE WAS YOUNGER.
- two fingers. crying. comforting. handshake. beckoning. point at halfling and then at the Hall. OTHERS, BECAUSE THEY ARE SAD, MAKE A DEAL FOR COMFORT, AND ARE LED AWAY. LIKE RUBIN.
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?
Rowan
Rowan listens intently to the description of the strings.
"I don't think I've heard of any of those places except Silverymoon. Greyhawk did you say? And Krynn? Are they far away? Maybe on the other side of the Sea of Fallen Stars? But they do all sound wonderful." Rowan says.
He listens for a moment longer before Ellywick's introduction finally rings in his head.
"I'm sorry, but did you say it was lovely to see me again?" Rowan asks. He looks very closely at Ellywick and frowns. "Have you been to my village? There are many elves who have passed through and I'm sure I don't remember any of their names, but I'm usually pretty good with faces. And only a few gnomes ever pass our way. It would be nice if more did but of the ones who did, none of them were you, of that I'm sure. Do you think you might be mistaken? Is it the blooming flowers? That's how most remember me. But where did we meet?"
So you were a guest. Before you worked here. So these thieves don't steal from workers?
Mulligan mulls on this information. So the groom wasn't stolen but rather made a deal in a moment of weakness. Mulligan wasn't a lawyer but he had heard stories about how faerie deals always bit you in the ass, eventually, and were notoriously hard to break. He frowned at this thought and the assumption it probably meant he couldn't do much to help the once potentially happy couple. Not that any of this meant he could do anything to help himself, either. He's only assuming he was stolen from because he snuck in. He could have lost for an entirely different reason... But still, it was a lead. Potentially...
I don't suppose you know where to find the thieves?
Obviously roaming around the carnival but he wondered if perhaps there was a certain location. He had spotted the pig masked girl earlier, just walking between attractions. He supposed, like any thief, they didn't stick to one spot.
I aim to try to find them. At least one. I think maybe they stole something of mine. I would like it back.
Mulligan pauses and considers for a moment before continuing...
I don't know what to say to her. Afraid if I told her she would get hope I don't feel it right to give her since I know so little. I guess I will just let the carnival do what they do for such people? But I do thank you for your help.
With that said, Mulligan gives him another shake of the hands before he begins drifting away off into the carnival, trying not to see or be seen by the halfling woman as he feels he has failed he somehow... Mulligan heads back the way he came - towards the Big Top but not exactly heading there as just in that general direction. Mostly he is looking for a pig masked girl, a frog of some kind or a likely looking shadow? Not great descriptions to go on, though he has seen the girl before, so he is keeping his eyes peeled for anything which may arose his curiosity...
Investigation? 21
G'Reginald's ploy
G'Reginald uses a mold earth cantrip to form himself a seating stump of dirt next to Northwind sitting and rubbing his feet making out that a rest is well needed, as he makes small talk and performs a harmless ritual. The next ten minutes are a relaxed but distracted bevvy of questions aimed at Northwind, ranging from the "how are you?" To the "what brought you to the carnival in the first place" and finally "who is your friend here?" Referencing the squirrel. All the while G'Reg will let Northwind do what he must in greeting other patrons of the carnival, but he himself doesn't enter the dragonfly riding just yet.
At the end of the ritual G'Reg has summoned a familiar, a small weasel which darts back and forth across G'Reg's shoulders similar to how the squirrel darts around Northwind's branches.
Then the weasel begins it's playful chase of the squirrel, hoping to bait the animal into some kind of chase play and give G'Reg and Northwind some freedom to talk without interruption.
Rowan
Far away, yes! replies Ellywick. Not just other lands, but other worlds and other times.
Then in regards to her allusion to a prior meeting, she laughs and replies:
Oh, did I say that? Perhaps this is the first time we've met. I get confused. Never mind all that; I have a question for you. If you could have your heart's desire, what would you be willing to give to have it?
Then without waiting for an answer, the gnome strums her lute and starts singing the words of a song. It switches from a slow waltz to a lilting ballad, and back again, with a bridge like a sombre nocturne. The music is far superior to that which he heard on arrival at the orchard, and Rowan closes his eyes as he is swept away with wonder at the melody and the strange but oddly familiar images that the lyrics conjure in his mind:
In a palace of glass where the dream-silver flows,
Where the stars kiss the vines and the moonflower grows,
Lives a queen crowned in frost, with a laugh like a chime,
Zybilna the wondrous, the weaver of time.
Zybilna, bright Zybilna, with crown of woven light,
You bless the brave and kind of heart who walk in truth and right.
Through thicket, glade, and rillet, your magic never tires
You grant the worthy wandering soul their deepest heart’s desire.
She walks in disguise through the faerie parade,
A dancer, a whisper, a shadow in shade.
In Prismeer she rules, though the hourglass turn,
Brave mortals importune her justice to earn.
Zybilna, bold Zybilna, enchantress of the stars,
Your laughter echoes through the land in chimes of crystal spars.
Though covens scheme and time stands still, your spirit never tires—
You grant the worthy wandering soul their deepest heart’s desire.
And if a soul should venture to brightest orchards thither,
To yon eternal towers, and fields of flowers hither—
Each path winds strange and perilous, yet hope will still appear,
For those who brave the faerie ways to find Zybilna dear.
Zybilna, lost Zybilna, the star in slumber’s keep,
Awaken now, and bless again the dreams that dare to leap.
Let mortals walk with courage bright through thorn and darkest mire—
To find the queen, and in her grace, their truest heart’s desire.
The music fades, and Rowan opens his eyes. He is seated alone under the pear tree. The gnome is gone.
Mulligan
Candlefoot nods in confirmation that he first came to the carnival as a visitor, before staying on as a crew member. In regards to where to find the thieves, he simply shrugs and shakes his head in apology. Before Mulligan departs however, Candlefoot shares one more cryptic piece of sign language.
points to self, mimes sound coming from his mouth, snatching, shakes head - MY VOICE, NOT STOLEN
points to self, mimes sound coming from his mouth, mimes two hands trading something, wings flapping - MY VOICE, TRADED WITH, A BIRD??
mimes squinting with hand to brow, wings flapping, hand at head height - LOOK FOR A BIRD, AS TALL AS ME
With this information of dubious utility in mind, Mulligan heads off again in search of the thieves. His practiced eye watches the crowds carefully, making note of anything unusual or out of place among the milling throng. Some things catch his attention momentarily, but then are dismissed as a regular part of the entertainment...
- A shriek from overhead... it is only a child shrieking in delight as they fly overhead in a bubble
- A puff of glitter and a man's head suddenly turns into the head of a braying donkey... but soon turns back again to the amusement of both his friends and a group of giggling, mischievous pixies.
- A shout of anger... it is two girls in face paint (one as a lion, the other as a hart) squabbling over a painted wooden crown that their mother won at a game
- A loud squawk and a scream from the Snail Racing arena... one of the giant snails breaks through a barricade and careens into the nearby crowd. A large red hawk is on the track, as motionless as a picture, but it suddenly vanishes - an illusion? Apart from the startled crowd, Mulligan sees a human woman run from the edge of the barricade into cover behind the nearest tent, but still in view of Mulligan's position ... in a puff of black feathers she suddenly changes into ... a male dwarf strolling nonchalantly toward the Hall of Illusions. A shapeshifter? This does not have the hallmarks of a carnival-endorsed prank. No one else seems to have noticed the prankster, and neither would Mulligan had he not been both actively scanning the crowd and fortuitously looking in that direction at the time.
G'reginald
Greginald's patience, both with taking the time to perform the ritual, and to listen to the young treant's juvenile rambling answers, is rewarded. Although the squirrel is at first vigilant, before long he becomes bored of the innocuous exchange and looks around distractedly. This corresponds nicely with the appearance of the weasel, who runs up the treant and plucks an acorn ... the squirrel is immediately occupied with chasing after the weasel and the ill-gotten acorn, leaving Greginald to direct the discussion more to his liking. How long the suspicious squirrel can stay sidetracking however, is uncertain; Greginald knows he may need to be efficient with his questions...
How does a red dragon blow out the candles on its birthday cake?