Føpé crouches and watches as best he can, from his vantage point behind the cart. He realizes, suddenly, that he has not seen Damia, Stanimir's beautiful daughter, these last ten minutes. At that same precise moment, he feels a tap on his shoulder. His stomach plummets.
He spins around, and Damia is right there. She crouches down so she can speak quietly. I will not tell the others where you have chosen to sit, sir, she whispers. Stay here if you wish. It does not matter. It is warmer by the fire and there is food and company and safety, but it is your choice. Please listen to my father's story, and do not go back out into the forest right now. There is a great danger out there this evening. Damia does not wait for a response; she slips back into the darkness and reappears, moments later, by the fire. As promised, she does not appear to say anything to anybody.
Nobody else in the party saw or heard that exchange.
Føpé rises from his spot, and approaches the party. Friends, these travelers have guided events since our arrival, just as they undoubtedly did for the duchess's men-at-arms. We have delivered our message. I have just been warned of great danger if we do not listen to this story, but I believe the danger is greater if we do. Please, let's leave. We can regroup, and consider our options with the safety of distance.
Dov, you can do whatever you want. But you are not being fair to your character. I will return your serves, regardless.
Edit: what i meant to say is that your character seems to me very different from what I expected, and I quite struggle to see how his behavior in one scene is at all related to his behavior in the next. But do what you want.
Puddin chokes on her drink in shock. She wipes the spittle from her chin and with a big smile blurts, "uh...well...why interrupt such a beautiful evening and feast! I was just about to tell this lovely tribe my tale about the famous Daergal Clan, who created a clock so amazing, a King offered them a royal place in his court. Who would have thought -- an old gnome family in the highest of places. Ha ha ha, such a good tale. Maybe you two crazy goons would do best to take a load off with some ale and let me tell the blessed tale!"
I apologize to Dov for calling him out that way. I apologized privately already and now I'll do so again, in public. I shouldn't have snapped in the public thread. Sorry, Dov!
Fope's wisdom save, which he asked me to roll for him:
13
Fope looks like a young halfling who has just had an epiphany. You know what I'll do? I'll come sit by the fire and relax instead of hiding over here. That's what I'll do. Fope takes a little offered food, and sits comfortably by his friends.
The smell of the wood fire fills your senses, and the towering pillar of smoke rises to an otherwise starry autumn sky. The forest looms overhead, but its shadows fall away in the firelight. The Visanti grow quiet as Stanimir sits up straight, and opens a small bottle of wine he had not yet touched. He uses a tool from his belt to unseal it and draw out the stopper, studiously ignoring all the eyes watching his every move. He pours half of a glass for himself and you can all see it is a beautiful ruby red, translucent and glowing in the firelight. (No it doesn't look like blood. It looks like red wine.) He swirls it in the glass and draws a deep sniff, clearly enjoying the moment. He takes a sip, and smiles. After he swallows, he takes a whole mouthful, pauses for a moment, and then surprises you all by spitting it into the fire.
The flames instantly turn from orange to green, and hiss and spit for a moment, throwing brightly colored sparks into the sky.
Go back to the campaign page for a pretty picture. I think you'll have to click on the newspaper-looking thing in the top right corner to see it. Let me know if you can't find it.
As the colors dance and sway, a dark shape appears in the bonfire’s core.
We come from an ancient land whose name is long forgotten—a land of kings. Our enemies forced us from our homes, and now we wander the lost roads.
The dark shape in the fire takes the form of a man being knocked from his horse, a spear piercing his side.
Stanimir continues. One night, a wounded soldier staggered into our camp and collapsed. We nursed his terrible injury and quenched his thirst with wine. He survived. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn’t say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn’t give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves.
Deep in the bonfire, you see the dark figure standing with sword drawn, fighting off a host of shadowy shapes.
This man of royal blood fought to protect us, as we protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said, ‘I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.’
The figure in the dancing fire vanquishes its final foe, then disperses in a cloud of smoke and embers.
Stanimir’s face becomes a somber mask. A curse has befallen our noble prince, turning him into a tyrant. We alone have the power to leave his domain. We’ve traveled far and wide to find heroes such as yourselves to end our dread lord’s curse and put his troubled soul to rest. Our leader, Madam Eva, knows all. Will you return to Barovia with us and speak with her?
So, this is our answer to your Countess. You have come to deliver her writ. We will leave, in the morning and gladly so, if but you will join us. We travel light and fast and will arrive home soon, though how long this undertaking may last, I cannot say. There will be battle, there will be magic. There will be treasure for you, I am sure of it. There will be danger.
Will you join us?
Stanimir's story ends. The fire is somewhat lower than it was, and the hour is late. The night sky is not so clear as it was earlier in the evening; a mist has risen off of the river.
Stanimir gestures for you to chat among yourselves. He rises and makes his way, alone, to one of the tents.
Kif turns to the others. “Where do you folks sit on this? That was quite a story our new friend just told” Kif shifts in his seat “ we could follow just to make sure they are leaving”
Barnaby is enthralled throughout the entire tale. He hangs on every word. His pipe dangles from a slackened jaw. This is the adventure he knew he was destined for. It never occurred to him that he would find it so soon or so easily.
As soon as Stanimir’s words come to an end, Barnaby, ignoring the insinuation that the group should talk, leaps up quickly enough that he trips over the hem of his robes, falling to his hands and knees. He quickly bounces up to his feet dropping his pipe.
“Yes, I’ll do it. I mean we’ll do it. Er, well, we will, won’t we? I will. Yes. The answer is yes.” His grin might split his face.
Fope, he knows that he quite surprised himself with his decision to sit and listen. He also knows that no harm was done to him and nobody has threatened him or anything. He, I suppose, suspects something. Roll an arcana check to see if you can get to the bottom of it. But he suspects something.
Thanks again for the hospitality, sir, as he waves the wineskin off, I'll pass on the drink, I like to keep a clear head if you don't mind
Føpé crouches and watches as best he can, from his vantage point behind the cart. He realizes, suddenly, that he has not seen Damia, Stanimir's beautiful daughter, these last ten minutes. At that same precise moment, he feels a tap on his shoulder. His stomach plummets.
He spins around, and Damia is right there. She crouches down so she can speak quietly. I will not tell the others where you have chosen to sit, sir, she whispers. Stay here if you wish. It does not matter. It is warmer by the fire and there is food and company and safety, but it is your choice. Please listen to my father's story, and do not go back out into the forest right now. There is a great danger out there this evening. Damia does not wait for a response; she slips back into the darkness and reappears, moments later, by the fire. As promised, she does not appear to say anything to anybody.
Nobody else in the party saw or heard that exchange.
Thunderbug!
Føpé rises from his spot, and approaches the party. Friends, these travelers have guided events since our arrival, just as they undoubtedly did for the duchess's men-at-arms. We have delivered our message. I have just been warned of great danger if we do not listen to this story, but I believe the danger is greater if we do. Please, let's leave. We can regroup, and consider our options with the safety of distance.
Kif jumps to his feet, he has no strong reason to trust Føpé , but clearly has not been ready to have any trust for the Visanti either.
What do you mean, Føpé!
Dov, you can do whatever you want. But you are not being fair to your character. I will return your serves, regardless.
Edit: what i meant to say is that your character seems to me very different from what I expected, and I quite struggle to see how his behavior in one scene is at all related to his behavior in the next. But do what you want.
“Come relax by the fire, Fope.” Roll a wisdom save.
Puddin chokes on her drink in shock. She wipes the spittle from her chin and with a big smile blurts, "uh...well...why interrupt such a beautiful evening and feast! I was just about to tell this lovely tribe my tale about the famous Daergal Clan, who created a clock so amazing, a King offered them a royal place in his court. Who would have thought -- an old gnome family in the highest of places. Ha ha ha, such a good tale. Maybe you two crazy goons would do best to take a load off with some ale and let me tell the blessed tale!"
Ah Fope. Relax a little. Have a samosa. Let us hear this gentleman's story. There is so much that can be learned from a story.
Barnaby squiggles on his but a bit to try and get more comfortable and then sets about packing and lighting his pipe.
Fope's wisdom save, which he asked me to roll for him:
14
I'll come back to this later. Things to do now!
Big update coming tomorrow. I’m not going to try to do it now. Let’s pause.
Tomorrow, though, story time!
First things first:
I apologize to Dov for calling him out that way. I apologized privately already and now I'll do so again, in public. I shouldn't have snapped in the public thread. Sorry, Dov!
I'll return to game play in a separate post.
Fope looks like a young halfling who has just had an epiphany. You know what I'll do? I'll come sit by the fire and relax instead of hiding over here. That's what I'll do. Fope takes a little offered food, and sits comfortably by his friends.
The smell of the wood fire fills your senses, and the towering pillar of smoke rises to an otherwise starry autumn sky. The forest looms overhead, but its shadows fall away in the firelight. The Visanti grow quiet as Stanimir sits up straight, and opens a small bottle of wine he had not yet touched. He uses a tool from his belt to unseal it and draw out the stopper, studiously ignoring all the eyes watching his every move. He pours half of a glass for himself and you can all see it is a beautiful ruby red, translucent and glowing in the firelight. (No it doesn't look like blood. It looks like red wine.) He swirls it in the glass and draws a deep sniff, clearly enjoying the moment. He takes a sip, and smiles. After he swallows, he takes a whole mouthful, pauses for a moment, and then surprises you all by spitting it into the fire.
The flames instantly turn from orange to green, and hiss and spit for a moment, throwing brightly colored sparks into the sky.
Go back to the campaign page for a pretty picture. I think you'll have to click on the newspaper-looking thing in the top right corner to see it. Let me know if you can't find it.
I'll return to the story in a bit.
As the colors dance and sway, a dark shape appears in the bonfire’s core.
We come from an ancient land whose name is long forgotten—a land of kings. Our enemies forced us from our homes, and now we wander the lost roads.
The dark shape in the fire takes the form of a man being knocked from his horse, a spear piercing his side.
Stanimir continues. One night, a wounded soldier staggered into our camp and collapsed. We nursed his terrible injury and quenched his thirst with wine. He survived. When we asked him who he was, he wouldn’t say. All he wanted was to return home, but we were deep in the land of his enemies. We took him as one of our own and followed him back toward his homeland. His enemies hunted him. They said he was a prince, yet we didn’t give him up, even when their assassins fell upon us like wolves.
Deep in the bonfire, you see the dark figure standing with sword drawn, fighting off a host of shadowy shapes.
This man of royal blood fought to protect us, as we protected him. We bore him safely to his home, and he thanked us. He said, ‘I owe you my life. Stay as long as you wish, leave when you choose, and know that you will always be safe here.’
The figure in the dancing fire vanquishes its final foe, then disperses in a cloud of smoke and embers.
Stanimir’s face becomes a somber mask. A curse has befallen our noble prince, turning him into a tyrant. We alone have the power to leave his domain. We’ve traveled far and wide to find heroes such as yourselves to end our dread lord’s curse and put his troubled soul to rest. Our leader, Madam Eva, knows all. Will you return to Barovia with us and speak with her?
So, this is our answer to your Countess. You have come to deliver her writ. We will leave, in the morning and gladly so, if but you will join us. We travel light and fast and will arrive home soon, though how long this undertaking may last, I cannot say. There will be battle, there will be magic. There will be treasure for you, I am sure of it. There will be danger.
Will you join us?
Stanimir's story ends. The fire is somewhat lower than it was, and the hour is late. The night sky is not so clear as it was earlier in the evening; a mist has risen off of the river.
Stanimir gestures for you to chat among yourselves. He rises and makes his way, alone, to one of the tents.
Also, Fope, the effect of the Suggestion spell has now faded.
Kif turns to the others. “Where do you folks sit on this? That was quite a story our new friend just told” Kif shifts in his seat “ we could follow just to make sure they are leaving”
Does my character know he was magiced?
Barnaby is enthralled throughout the entire tale. He hangs on every word. His pipe dangles from a slackened jaw. This is the adventure he knew he was destined for. It never occurred to him that he would find it so soon or so easily.
As soon as Stanimir’s words come to an end, Barnaby, ignoring the insinuation that the group should talk, leaps up quickly enough that he trips over the hem of his robes, falling to his hands and knees. He quickly bounces up to his feet dropping his pipe.
“Yes, I’ll do it. I mean we’ll do it. Er, well, we will, won’t we? I will. Yes. The answer is yes.” His grin might split his face.
Fope, he knows that he quite surprised himself with his decision to sit and listen. He also knows that no harm was done to him and nobody has threatened him or anything. He, I suppose, suspects something. Roll an arcana check to see if you can get to the bottom of it. But he suspects something.
Kif, the offer was to leave *if you join them*.
Do what you guys want, as always.
I do encourage you guys to speak to each other in character here.