Off to the Wayfarer Show (The Spectacular Trial of Toteth Topec)
Markth, the 28th of Feruvia
It is late afternoon and you are all sitting around in your house. Freshly bathed and crisply dressed, you prepare to head out to the Wayfarer's performance. For the last ten days you have busied yourselves with personal endeavors and have been constantly reminded, whether from Simeon, occasional stop-ins from Katrina, or other members of the council you have encountered in the streets, that your presence is requested and needed at the show. As relative heroes in Seaquen and members of the only delegation from Gate Pass, your appearance has been explained as a matter of both diplomatic and morale-building necessity. Perhaps some of you are annoyed at having to attend such a show, or maybe you relish the chance to get out and do something leisurely while in the presence of wealthy merchants, diplomats, army commanders, high priests and wizards.
The patter of rain on the windows is quite loud today. In fact, the weather has been worsening over the course of your period of rest. Drizzle has turned to steady rain, grey skies have turned dark and thunder and lightning are more prevalent. Farmers, refugees and mages alike mutter about the foul weather while they sip drinks in warm taverns. Some say it is a curse, others an omen of the war to come. All agree that it is highly unusual.
The clip-clop of a group of horses and the clatter of wagon wheels across cobblestones heralds the late afternoon arrival of a carriage outside. Moments later comes a steady rap of a staff against your front door. You gather your tickets and ever-present weapons and gear, Lowduke having pocketed the long since departed Alric's, and bundle up your cloaks. You step into the street where the rain falls in sheets and thunder murmurs over head. A man in the livery of the Lyceum leads you to a covered carriage pulled by four draft horses. He opens the door to the carriage and lets you in. Ghar barks a faint farewell to his master from inside the house.
Already seated inside the carriage is the ravishing Katrina. Her red dress-like robe carries a long slit up the leg and the plunging neckline leaves nothing to your imagination. Next to her sits your friend Torrent, whose warrior-priest clothing and equipment make for a stark contrast. Katrina offers a sly flirty grin, but Torrent is overjoyed to see you and asks for stories about your adventurers which have already reached her ears.
The carriage moves through the North Harbour and eventually comes upon the docks. There, through the curtained window of the carriage, you can see the large Wayfarer galleon bobbing slightly in the choppy bay. Coloured streamers attached to lines and sails whip in the wind and a few large boats carry audience members from the docks to the ship.
As a group, you wait on the rainy docks for a few minutes until a boat arrives to shakily carry you out into the bay. The Elven Armada looms on the horizon, but do not seem interested in disrupting the festivities aboard the galleon. Katrina complains about the water ruining her hair and dress, but Torrent seems to revel in the heave of the waves, staring stoically out at sea. After a bumpy trip to the Galleon, you climb up some rigging and arrive on a slippery deck where cloaked Wayfarers lead you towards an open hatch which leads down into the hold of the vessel. The striking half-elven Guildmistress Sheena Larkins stands under a parasol held by her personal assistant and bodyguard, a hulking man known as Hawkins. She offers her personal greeting to you and thanks you for your presence and commitment to this event of fostering cooperation and morale amongst the refugees and diverse governments and interests represented on the council.
You all step into the hatch and follow an ornate circular staircase down into the belly of the ship. You stop on a landing, where more Wayfarers cast minor cantrips to dry your cloak and clothing while your tickets are checked. You are offered warm, mulled wine and then taken through a door and into the theater itself.
The first thing you notice upon entering the theater is that the space is impossibly four to five times larger than it should be given the size of the ship. The theater is lit by dozens of lanterns, and lenses over the stage focus spotlights on a curtain stitched with a pattern of fire. Ushers costumed as monsters and angels guide people to their seats and close to over a hundred people are already seated. Barely visible in shadows cast by lanterns are relief carvings that imply countless archetypes of fiction. There are no windows, so when the lights dim and the drone of tuning instruments being played by unseen performers seems to seep out through the walls, it is easy to believe that you are no longer part of the same world you were in moments before - which may in fact be true. As you take your assigned seats, right in the very last row and near the door, you see that Simeon, Kiernan, the council dignitaries and the foreign diplomats are all seated up front. You settle in for the show to start and sip your mulled wine while the faint sounds of thunder rumble outside.
| GM: | I've assumed that you have spent the last 10 days of downtime doing anything you wish in town: research, studying at the Lyceum, crafting, performing, shopping, whoring, drinking heavily, etc. You can either post a synopsis of how you spent your time, or merely send me an email and we can discuss off screen. |
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