{Why did my magic get stronger.}
{I figured it out. When I snuck off from the caravan. To talk to the thieves remotely. It was compulsive.}
{Does this mean I’m becoming more of someone worth martyring?}
I don’t… I don’t need to think about it. I can’t do anything about it now. I’m stuck in a tavern and I’m supposed to rest.
I shut my eyes hard and start to sing, slightly louder this time, but… nobody should hear. Hopefully.
@discobot roll 1d20
17
(+5 is 22.)
{…And then clarity.}
{It’s… it’s nice. The song is nice. And I’m singing it well. As well as I could-. It’s. Nice. And it makes me happy. And it calms me.}
Canary continues to sing, unconsciously much louder than she would like, but- whatever she may notice when the song breaks will still leave the moment being worth it.
It does seem like there’s some variety in what people are requesting. After she finishes the wizard song, the next request is for a love song about a human woman who falls in love with a selkie. The two of them ultimately come to truly love each other, and decide to stay together, but are impeded by the fact that if he stays on land for even one night longer, he will die (this is not actually how selkies work, the songwriter apparently took some artistic license). However, the two of them manage to perform a magic ritual to transform the woman into a selkie as well, and the two of them live happily beneath the waves together.
Next, someone requests a comedic song about someone trying to find a cleric to cast a healing spell on him. He goes around to a cleric of Pharasma, a cleric of Erastil, and a cleric of Gorum, each of whom has their own elaborate demands related to their god’s area of concern that the man is not interested in fulfilling. In the “punchline” of the song, the man goes to a cleric of Abadar, who tells him that he’ll do it if the man just pays him regular money, which he immediately does.
Then, still by request, she sings a song about a young soldier who enlists in the army. His lover gives him a veil she owns as a token of remembrance, and tells him to win honor for her, and promises that she’ll be waiting for him when he returns. He goes off to fight and (unexpectedly) spends ten years at war, where he regularly tells people about her; he is made a knight and eventually knight-commander. Eventually he returns home to reunite with his lover, only to find that while he was away she married another, with whom she now has three children, and that during his time away, even his memory of her eye color has changed. He returns to war, and when his king asks about his lover, he pretends that she’s still waiting for him.
When the song breaks, you see that many of the audience members have turned to look at you, and so is the singer. The singer tilts her head. “Do you know the one about the sailors trying to cross the Lake of Mists and Veils on a leaf? We had a request for it earlier, but it’s a duet…"
I don’t like eyes. Oh I was asked a Question I’m being Called Upon to answer a Question why am I being called upon to ask a…
And just before I mentally clock why, I nervously nod yes.
Back at the room, Drakor set down his pack. He opened it up and retrieved an abacus and began idly doing some arcane calculations on it.
Not literally arcane, just really weird.
Arius asks around for directions of Sten and Kamilla, intentionally not asking the baron himself to save what little face he has left.
Arius usually doesn’t have a sense of shame and honor, but he understands well that the people in the barony values these abstract concepts, and the mercenary intends to play the game by their rules.
((I wonder if I can interpret this as taking a 10 on Knowlege-Nobility?))
Wanderer attempts to ingratiate himself with the people in the tavern such that he can get a better grasp at what the people of Brevoy are like.
“Well, come on up!” She beckons you onto the wooden platform she’s standing on.
They’re currently being held at the headquarters of the local town militia, where you left them.
“Do you know the song cslled The Bold Warrior?” Zelsh asked hopefully as it was his favorite song. It was about a warrior thinking about how he was going to win honor through battle while going off to war and how he eventually came back a hero.
I cast invisibility.
…
I cast invisibility.
. . .
I wish I could go invisible.
(is there any way for Canary to somehow disappear. I know the answer but I need to ask.)
Are they still looking at me did everyone like turn away or something.
Arius goes to the headquarters of the local town militia, claiming to be visiting the apprehended criminals to relay a message. (Which is technically not wrong. It’s just that the message is from himself.)
((Now… time to pray there are no logic gates. All he needs to do is tell Sten -Kamilla too if she’s nearby- that Arius has done what he can for Sten and Kamilla at the trial. At the very least, the expectancy is that neither will die or suffer from torture.))
Roughly fifteen minutes later, Drakor set aside the abacus with a final click.
With a sigh, he set out his bedroll and went to sleep.
(i’m ready to go to the next day but am content lurking as yall finish your different activities)
Many of the people in the tavern are listening to the singer, but others are gathered around tables, or up at the bar. By one wall, a group has set up a dartboard and is placing bets on who will be the first to hit the target while blindfolded. At another table, someone is attempting, poorly, to juggle scarves. Throughout the room, there are people in conversation — about the weather, about whether someone’s son is really a good match for the speaker’s daughter (and doesn’t she know it’s a terrible idea to marry a gambler?), about the unusual number of Rostlanders that have been spotted in the area lately, about two bakers who have apparently gotten into some kind of terrible argument and are now refusing to speak to each other, about the impending collection of taxes, about why the baron is in town (no one seems to know). (You may if you wish join in on one of the conversations, or request more details, I’m not sure what level of detail you want.)
It’s not exactly fair to try to compare them to the Worldwound’s defenders, who tend to be rather preoccupied with the demon problem. But compared to the people you met as you travelled to Brevoy, the most notable difference is that they tend on average to be more cynical than other countries. Where you might expect to hear someone soften their criticism with “at least he has a kind heart”, or at least some sort of positive compliment, for example, here the speaker instead complains that he’s too soft.