This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Kif turns to his friends
So guys, much as it sucks I kinda think we're on thin ice here and it wouldn't be a wise idea to step up to help that poor hapless guard, what do you think? What are we doing here in Failburgh anyway, should we just be scooping up Ireena and moving on to relative safety up north a bit
Is there enough tension in the crowd to think we might have support or are these all sheeple...we see Nadalnta hesitate Perception again if you'll allow 21
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Barnaby will ask the pastry lady what time she closes each day in case he wants a refreshment later in the day. He will thank her politely and then join the others at the parade.
When the Burgomaster starts yelling Barnaby looks concerned for a moment and then breaks out into a broad grin and starts clapping enthusiastically. Brilliant! Brilliant!! Oh you’re honorable burgorness, that was an amazing performance! The bit with the torch going out, it was perfect. I haven’t seen effects that good at the fanciest theaters in Waterdeep, and the way you glare at that poor guard, I do believe he crapped his pants, Barnaby lets out a giggle. Oh this is a wonderful festival. What’s next sir? I can barely wait to see. Prior to rolling a bluff check, I will roll my portent from the previous nights rest. Portent: 10, 17
So guys, much as it sucks I kinda think we're on thin ice here and it wouldn't be a wise idea to step up to help that poor hapless guard, what do you think? What are we doing here in Failburgh anyway, should we just be scooping up Ireena and moving on to relative safety up north a bit
Is there enough tension in the crowd to think we might have support or are these all sheeple...we see Nadalnta hesitate Perception again if you'll allow 22
You definitely get the sense that at least some in the crowd could go either way.
The burgomaster is looking at the crowd, betraying both anger and uncertainty. It's hard to tell what effect Barnaby's theatrics had, if any.
Kif can see Nadalanta. She looks troubled by the situation - by the order to lock up one of her own guardsmen, under these circumstances - but she appears to be gathering a few more guards to her side to take action.
Chubs is looking into his stein and shaking it a bit as it’s endless flow seems to have a hitch in its giddy up. As he looks up and realizes what’s going on his brow furls in confusion, What exactly is the penalty for merriment here? Is it just like, a fine, or...
As, for the moment, onlookers are staring at the guard, the burgomaster waves Barnaby over. He crouches low, so he is momentarily hidden from view, and so that he can address Barnaby eye-to-eye. What did you say, little man? Out with it!
Barnaby gets close to the burgermeister’s one and looks up at him conspiratorially, Sir, it’s just that I’m so impressed with how you played out that scene. First you made that marvelous show of lighting the sun, but then, at the last moment, you put out the torch. You did it with such deftness, that to this moment, I still don’t know what the mechanism was. And then, for a moment I actually believed you were going to have that man put in stocks for having enjoyed your performance. It was all magical is all I’m saying.
Oh, and if you want, when you’re ready to light it up for real, just wave your hands in its general direction, say whatever mumbo jumbo you want, and I promise you, you will get the blaze that you’re looking for.
Barnaby is trying to talk some sense into the Burgomaster, while Kif is watching the awkward situation with the town guard.
Suddenly, breaking the quiet tension in the town square, the members of the party hear a stringed instrument - a guitar? maybe a mandolin no, a viol! - being strummed, and a voice from the crowd:
>And thus with a snuff did our tale begin, >of past ages of darkest woe, >but now remember in this square we're in, >the truth of things, just so.
>We know that all is well because >our hearts they still are beating >we the burgomaster cares for us >this festival he's been keeping.
>So listen friends and know >that torches are like feelings. >And feelings come and feelings go >but being Well is the real thing.
The song ends, but the singer shouts out:
Look the torch went out, and a simpleton was surprised. I put torches out every night when I go to sleep. The wind, the clouds, they are here. They are like mud, like you common farmers. THEY ARE REAL. This torch going out is like me spilling a drink" He gestures at his shirt. "It isn't nice but it isn't something shocking. Now, the Burgomaster has worked incredibly hard for our so many ungrateful souls. He cares for us. You can see it in his energy, in his passion. He only wanted to make this day go well and (insert guard's name) went and screwed it up just like he elbowed my cup into my shirt three weeks past. Let the Burgomaster arrest him for a day and release him tomorrow. Then the Festival can go well and we can all get back to the daily grind of life and of washing out my shirts weekly.
A hush falls over the crowd, and the man gestures at Kif and Chubs:
Even these strangers can see it. They are working to calm all of us, to distract us, because they know the Burgomaster wants only what is best for us. To remind us that we are still alive, we are still happy, that all is well. And is it not? We have wine? We have friends? We aren't dead.
Burgomaster Vallakovich is dumbfounded. He recognizes this opportunity, though, and takes it. He stands up: Yes, yes. Let this fool spend one night in the stocks. He will learn his lesson, and be free tomorrow. The members of the town guard, including Atalanta, visibly relax. This no longer sounds like a big deal.
Now! Blazing sun, ignite! The burgomaster glances down at Barnaby, before looking up at the dangling model.
An older man, with deep circles under his eyes and a narrow gaunt face. Black unkempt hair and brown almost black eyes. His skin is dark but looks untanned and almost gray due to days without sun. Leather armor and a viol tucked under one arm now. A steel rapier with blue cords wound around its grip. Misalyk trudges back to pick up his mostly empty wine bottle in a manner suggestive of someone who trudges often and has some expertise in trudgery.
Barnaby, who at this point has stepped back to blend into the crowd and discretely pulled something from his robe pockets, makes a few brief hand movements and utters a few arcane words casting flaming sphere. A suddenly the ball of wood has a 5' wide inferno at it's heart, the heat of which quickly dries the wood allowing it to catch. Barnaby will maintain the sphere for it's full minute duration to keep the fire as bright as possible for as long as possible.
Meanwhile, he lifts up on his tippy toes, unable to see much through the crowd of bigger bodies, but unable to spot Lucento. Hmm...I wonder where he went?
Also, inspiration for both Barnaby and our newcomer (who wrote the post in which I introduced him), for their clever efforts to defuse this explosive situation.
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Kif turns to his friends
So guys, much as it sucks I kinda think we're on thin ice here and it wouldn't be a wise idea to step up to help that poor hapless guard, what do you think? What are we doing here in Failburgh anyway, should we just be scooping up Ireena and moving on to relative safety up north a bit
Is there enough tension in the crowd to think we might have support or are these all sheeple...we see Nadalnta hesitate Perception again if you'll allow 21
Barnaby will ask the pastry lady what time she closes each day in case he wants a refreshment later in the day. He will thank her politely and then join the others at the parade.
When the Burgomaster starts yelling Barnaby looks concerned for a moment and then breaks out into a broad grin and starts clapping enthusiastically. Brilliant! Brilliant!! Oh you’re honorable burgorness, that was an amazing performance! The bit with the torch going out, it was perfect. I haven’t seen effects that good at the fanciest theaters in Waterdeep, and the way you glare at that poor guard, I do believe he crapped his pants, Barnaby lets out a giggle. Oh this is a wonderful festival. What’s next sir? I can barely wait to see.
Prior to rolling a bluff check, I will roll my portent from the previous nights rest. Portent: 10, 17
Edit: oof, here goes, bluff: 4
If the burgomaster is making an opposing insight check or the like, he will roll a 6. Barnaby has seen it in his future.
You definitely get the sense that at least some in the crowd could go either way.
The burgomaster is looking at the crowd, betraying both anger and uncertainty. It's hard to tell what effect Barnaby's theatrics had, if any.
Kif can see Nadalanta. She looks troubled by the situation - by the order to lock up one of her own guardsmen, under these circumstances - but she appears to be gathering a few more guards to her side to take action.
Chubs is looking into his stein and shaking it a bit as it’s endless flow seems to have a hitch in its giddy up. As he looks up and realizes what’s going on his brow furls in confusion, What exactly is the penalty for merriment here? Is it just like, a fine, or...
As, for the moment, onlookers are staring at the guard, the burgomaster waves Barnaby over. He crouches low, so he is momentarily hidden from view, and so that he can address Barnaby eye-to-eye. What did you say, little man? Out with it!
So apparently I broke the ever-loving shit out my wrist. Your NPCs may be even more tight-lipped than usual for a few weeks, but I'll do what I can.
critical fail on an athletics or acrobatics check, your choice?
I failed an athletics check and then failed the save. The surface of the earth got a surprise round and scored a critical hit.
Update: surgery went well but I will continue to be physically limited and high as a kite, as prescribed by a doctor, in the coming few days.
Feel free to post stuff you’re doing and or thinking. The burgomaster has addressed barnaby directly.
Barnaby gets close to the burgermeister’s one and looks up at him conspiratorially, Sir, it’s just that I’m so impressed with how you played out that scene. First you made that marvelous show of lighting the sun, but then, at the last moment, you put out the torch. You did it with such deftness, that to this moment, I still don’t know what the mechanism was. And then, for a moment I actually believed you were going to have that man put in stocks for having enjoyed your performance. It was all magical is all I’m saying.
Oh, and if you want, when you’re ready to light it up for real, just wave your hands in its general direction, say whatever mumbo jumbo you want, and I promise you, you will get the blaze that you’re looking for.
Kif moves closer to the town guard
Kif pauses for a moment in the crowd, loosens his breaches a bit and relieves himself of the morning coffee into the mud and straw of the town square
Barnaby is trying to talk some sense into the Burgomaster, while Kif is watching the awkward situation with the town guard.
Suddenly, breaking the quiet tension in the town square, the members of the party hear a stringed instrument - a guitar? maybe a mandolin no, a viol! - being strummed, and a voice from the crowd:
>And thus with a snuff did our tale begin,
>of past ages of darkest woe,
>but now remember in this square we're in,
>the truth of things, just so.
>We know that all is well because
>our hearts they still are beating
>we the burgomaster cares for us
>this festival he's been keeping.
>So listen friends and know
>that torches are like feelings.
>And feelings come and feelings go
>but being Well is the real thing.
The song ends, but the singer shouts out:
Look the torch went out, and a simpleton was surprised. I put torches out every night when I go to sleep. The wind, the clouds, they are here. They are like mud, like you common farmers. THEY ARE REAL. This torch going out is like me spilling a drink" He gestures at his shirt. "It isn't nice but it isn't something shocking. Now, the Burgomaster has worked incredibly hard for our so many ungrateful souls. He cares for us. You can see it in his energy, in his passion. He only wanted to make this day go well and (insert guard's name) went and screwed it up just like he elbowed my cup into my shirt three weeks past. Let the Burgomaster arrest him for a day and release him tomorrow. Then the Festival can go well and we can all get back to the daily grind of life and of washing out my shirts weekly.
A hush falls over the crowd, and the man gestures at Kif and Chubs:
Even these strangers can see it. They are working to calm all of us, to distract us, because they know the Burgomaster wants only what is best for us. To remind us that we are still alive, we are still happy, that all is well. And is it not? We have wine? We have friends? We aren't dead.
Burgomaster Vallakovich is dumbfounded. He recognizes this opportunity, though, and takes it. He stands up: Yes, yes. Let this fool spend one night in the stocks. He will learn his lesson, and be free tomorrow. The members of the town guard, including Atalanta, visibly relax. This no longer sounds like a big deal.
Now! Blazing sun, ignite! The burgomaster glances down at Barnaby, before looking up at the dangling model.
Tjrren, if they look at the singer with the viol, what do they see?
An older man, with deep circles under his eyes and a narrow gaunt face. Black unkempt hair and brown almost black eyes. His skin is dark but looks untanned and almost gray due to days without sun. Leather armor and a viol tucked under one arm now. A steel rapier with blue cords wound around its grip. Misalyk trudges back to pick up his mostly empty wine bottle in a manner suggestive of someone who trudges often and has some expertise in trudgery.
Barnaby, who at this point has stepped back to blend into the crowd and discretely pulled something from his robe pockets, makes a few brief hand movements and utters a few arcane words casting flaming sphere. A suddenly the ball of wood has a 5' wide inferno at it's heart, the heat of which quickly dries the wood allowing it to catch. Barnaby will maintain the sphere for it's full minute duration to keep the fire as bright as possible for as long as possible.
Meanwhile, he lifts up on his tippy toes, unable to see much through the crowd of bigger bodies, but unable to spot Lucento. Hmm...I wonder where he went?
Lucento is nearby, but not close enough for conversation. He appears to be watching the blaze erupt, just like almost everyone else.
Burgomaster Vallakovich stands up straight, close enough to the burning sun to feel its heat on his face, gawking in surprise and pleasure.
Chubs and Kif both find themselves standing near the singer with the viol.
Also, inspiration for both Barnaby and our newcomer (who wrote the post in which I introduced him), for their clever efforts to defuse this explosive situation.