Aspen heads in the direction of Orrin and eve.

"Aye, here's your pay," the sailor tells Leif as they finish lugging the bags up-stair, handing him three gold pieces, which clink and clank happily in his palm. "You're a mighty good fellow for doin' this, know that - and if ye ever want a job, you know where to ask." 

Heading down towards your friends, you're suddenly awakened by a conglomeration of colors, sounds, and smells -- a circus has come to town. Performers flit between the tents, ready to amaze, while the banging of drums somewhere inside the camp of tents sounds, signaling the start of the shows.

Aspen, Orrin, Tine, Eve, Zofsaadi, Crumb -- you all hear the banging of these drums, a deep, hollow boom that fills your bones with anticipation. Following through on your plan, you stroll along the beach, taking in the sights and bathing your senses. The first show you find, inside a small tent, is a group of musicians playing on their viols and violoncellos -- strumming away with their bows, they play a waltz as groups march in time. Although they're impressive, Tine, you still think that you could do better. 

Farther along the beach, you find groups who dance, sing, and jump -- intricately performed mazurkas, young girls reaching as high as they can, while still lulling the audience to sleep, and a large tent, where performers -- including the one who approached you earlier -- dance and leap around on bars hung from the ceiling while a crowd cheers them on, gasping at every leap.

Tine wiped her hands on her cloak as she finished the last of her meal, still humming softly from the energy of the crowd. When Orrin mentioned the sahuagin, her brow arched, curiosity glinting in her sea-green eyes. “Careful what you wish for, big heart,” she said with a teasing lilt. “Folk call them sea devils for a reason. If they’re prowling these waters, best to hope they stay beneath the waves.” Her attention shifted as the painted performer pressed the program into Zofsaadi’s hands. Tine leaned in close as he read it aloud, her eyes widening with each line. “Shows of magic, music, and beasts?” she said, almost breathless with excitement. “Saints preserve us, I might never leave this carnival.”

When Eve signed something in her direction, Tine blinked and tilted her head, smiling apologetically. Everyone in the party but her seemed to know how to speak to Eve, and it was something on her list to learn. As they followed the sound, Tine’s step grew lighter, her earlier weariness all but gone. The deep thrum of the drums rolled through her chest like thunder over water. “Now that’s a rhythm you can feel in your bones,” she said, grinning over her shoulder at Orrin. “Let’s see if their fiddlers can keep up.”

Tine listened for a moment to the music, head tilted, fingers twitching faintly as if she longed to join in. “They’ve skill, I’ll give them that,” she murmured, a mischievous glint in her eye. Then the group moved on, drawn by the cheers ahead, acrobats twisting through the air beneath the main tent, their bodies catching the light like flickering flames. Tine’s laughter rose above the crowd. “Now that’s what I call a show!” she said, clapping along with the music. “If the sea really does have monsters, I hope they’re watching, they might learn a thing or two about grace.”

“All of this revelry seems like a waste of time,” Orrin said. “Do these people not have jobs?”

Orrin -- your complaints draw eyes, and soon, a man, elegantly dressed in a red-velvet suit, creeps up behind you. You whirl, ready to strike, but he raises his palms in innocence. "Whoa, fellow!" he says, sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Well...a couple of my friends couldn't help overhearing you. What've you got against revelry? Is it such a problem that you can't help but grumble and groan?"

“I’m a man of action,” Orrin says. “Revelry has its place, but this seems excessive to me. Especially when troubles are afoot in town.”

Perception Check (+4): 19.  

Leif eyes the circus with interest, "I'm sure the others are headed that way, considering they have been stuck shipboard so long", as he slips the coins away.  "I'll just keep an eye out for them and we can enjoy the entertainment together."  the elf then chuckles to himself and adds "If not, I can tell them all about it!"

Leif -- after a few minutes, searching tents -- and staying at some -- you find them, observing a group of acrobats dancing. 

All of you, reunited, Orrin talking to a man while the others stand and watch the acrobats, who dance like squirrels released upon a tree, feel a rumble, a vibration under your feet. It lasts only a second, disappearing. The stands of the tent shake, and one of the acrobats falls -- landing not-quite-so-gracefully in a net below. The performer you met earlier furrows his brow, clears his throat, then calls out to the audience, "Give us a few minutes! Just need to make sure another one of those doesn't decide to come by these parts!" Laughter goes through the crowd, and they wait, chatting, intermingling, as they wait for the show to resume. 

Then, as the moon crests the clouds mingling along the horizon, you hear shouts -- and the clanging of steel, coming from outside. 

Orrin, who had been anxiously waiting for some kind of battle, turns to the noise. “That sounds like battle! Come, my friends. Let us see what is amiss.”

Without waiting, he runs at full tilt towards the clanging steel. 

Aspen calls out after Orrin. “Oh my gosh… you NEVER LET US NOT FIGHT SOMETHING I SWEAR TO THE NON EXISTENT GODS, ORRIN, COME BACK HERE!”

"Hm, These might be sounds from one of shows they didn't describe properly in a paper. Or maybe our streak with no fights has ended as Orrin says."

Aspen sighs. “Time to babysit that barbarian.”

Tine had just started to sway in time with the drums when Orrin’s voice cut through the music like a warhorn. She turned toward him, one brow arched, half a smile tugging at her lips. “Jobs?” she echoed, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Some people build walls, Orrin. Others build joy. Both keep the dark out, just in different ways.” She might’ve teased him further, but the exchange with the man in the red velvet suit quickly drew her attention. The stranger’s charm and velvet tone made her uneasy, though she masked it behind a polite smile, her fingers unconsciously brushing the worn wood of her fiddle.

Then the ground rumbled. Her laughter died instantly. The tremor rippled beneath her boots, short but deep enough to make her stomach twist. She caught her balance as one of the acrobats fell into the net, and her eyes darted toward the tent’s support beams as they creaked. “That wasn’t just wind,” she murmured, half to herself, scanning the canvas above. When the performer tried to brush it off, she managed a small, nervous smile for the villagers now whispering among themselves. “Guess even carnivals need an encore for the earth itself,” she said quietly, though her tone was far more wary than playful.

Then came the sound, steel against steel, distant but unmistakable. Her head snapped toward the noise just as Orrin’s entire posture shifted. “Orrin…wait…” she began, but he was already charging through the crowd like a boulder let loose. Tine groaned softly, slinging her fiddle case back over her shoulder. “Saints save me from brave men with more heart than patience,” she muttered. She cast a quick glance at Aspen, already following after him. “You heard the babysitter, let’s go before he ends up punching a juggler.” She jogged after them, weaving through startled townsfolk, her expression sharpening as she drew her fiddle and bow. The laughter of moments ago had vanished, replaced by a heavy, growing dread. Whatever had shaken the ground, whatever rang those blades, it wasn’t part of any show.

The sudden change of events leaves most shocked -- rushing to huddle in the corners of the tent, while terrified performers bid them be silent. However, you motley group rush towards the fighting, following Orrin into the fray as he charges -- desperately praying that he doesn't get himself killed all the while. 

As you rush towards the large flaps which heralded the entrance to the tent mere moments ago, the clashing grows louder and louder -- and then you see, just outside the tent, one circus performer valiantly holding back three cloaked figures -- but the picture only lasts for a second. He looks back at you, hearing the thump of your boots -- a smile of relief grows across his face -- and one of the creatures slashes his throat with a sword, blood trickling across the sandy ground as he falls. The remnants of a horrific, twisted smile curve across his face, his upturned lips in a nefarious grin. 

At first, you didn't know whether it was merely another feature -- or if it was real. Now, you've discovered that it brutally, definitely is not a show. Staring at the performer, splayed across the ground, his dagger just loose of his fingertips, you almost fail to notice the dagger whirling towards you, produced from inside the dark cloaks of these creatures. It streaks towards Orrin, the first of you outside -- the gentle thrums of the air it displaces becoming louder and louder. 

Attack: 7 Damage: 3

Orrin's reflexes don't need to be tested -- his blade shoots up, deflecting the dagger away from his face. It lands between the rest of you with a thud. A moment passes -- they look at you, yellowish eyes glinting in the shadows of their face, and you stare back. Then, the peace breaks, and chaos ensues. 

Roll initiative. 

Enemies: 15, 9, 3

(OOC: (does this work?))

*i think so? Also, is it ok if i type OOC like this? It’s kinda the standard for most rp threads I’m in.*

[OOC: Do you want us to roll here in the forum or on the campaign via our character sheet/dice log? That feels easier to me because I can just click the thing I need and it rolls (and logs it for you). Also, the dice roller is not friendly on mobile which is where I mostly post. So my preference would be to roll in the sheets. But let me know what you prefer, I can adapt. 

On the sheets, I rolled a 21 for initiative.]

Orrin stands his ground and rolls his neck and shoulders. His halberd already primed for a strike. "Finally some action."

Aspen sighs. “Tine, do you perchance have a lullaby to make him tired? And not want to fight?”

[what are you talking about Aspen? We’re in a fight. Rolling for initiative.]

*gonna roll initiative right now, this is just him commenting before he fights.*