Chapter Text
Welcome to Wildemount. The year is 835 P.D., post divergence. This continent is divided both by jagged terrain and political powers. The Menagerie Coast, a collection of city states united under the Clovis Concord, monopolizes the southwestern shores and ports of Wildemount, thriving on open trade and cultural freedom. Beyond the Cyrios Mountains lies the massive region known as Wynandir, bisected by the Ashkeeper Peaks. Eastern Wynandir houses the expansive wastes and turbulent badlands of Xhorhas, overrun with all manner of beasts and terrors, relics from the final battles of the Calamity that ruined that scarred landscape. Northward, you would find the Greying Wildlands, a lawless realm harboring a curse that has kept it unconquered by human hands. However, this story begins in the territory of Western Wynandir within the boundaries of the Dwendalian Empire. Emerging thirteen generations before, the Dwendalian Empire has slowly spread to encompass the surrounding societies of the region, absorbing the peoples of the Zemni fields and the Marrow valley before finally conquering the Julous Dominion and taking the whole of western Wynandir for the Empire. Under the rule of the current King Bertrand Dwendal, now in his 68th year, most are left to their own devices. You live as you did before, the Crown only takes a tithe of what you produce and earn. You follow its laws, worship its gods, and bow to its installed local leadership. In return, denizens of the Empire are protected from the chaotic horrors and shattered evils that stalk the edges of civilized lands. This accord has led to a prosperous century for the Empire, or at least the political elite. Tensions brew beneath the chafing watch of the Crown’s guard. Every temple is government owned and run, and worship outside the approved idolatry is met with imprisonment. Remissive military clashes at the Eastern border near Xhorhas have many common folk on edge. Our story, however, begins much smaller. Here in the Southern reaches of the Marrow valley, beyond the entry gates of the Wuyun Gorge, lies the small, rural town of Trostenwald. Bordering the blue waters of the Ustaloch, this town came to prominence near the turn of the recent century when the surrounding fertile farmlands were discovered to produce a unique type of grain and wheat, leading to a boom of breweries. When the glut subsided, three large families stood triumphant in the local business of fermented delights. Now Trostenwald thrives on their exports of fish, crops, and ale. Here in this sleepy trade stop along the Amber Road, a handful of wandering destinies slowly begin to intersect.
There is a man sleeping in a room on the second floor of the Nestled Nook Inn. His slumbering form is covered by a tattered coat, with more patches than original fabric, and a dark scarf still draped loosely around his neck.
A smaller body lays at the foot of the bed, curled around a sparkling silver flask, snoring quietly.
The day is Grissen, and morning is just lighting the horizon.
Caleb Widogast blinks and slowly awakens from his long rest, glancing at the figure by his feet. His reddish-brown hair is crusted with dirt from his travels, but he makes no move towards the wash bin as he slowly takes in his surroundings. How long had it been since he’d woken up in a bed?
His small companion, Nott the Brave, begins to rise as well, stretching her cramped back. Even as she raises her arms above her head and straightens her legs, she’s barely as tall as the bed is wide.
She notices Caleb watching her, “Oh! You’re-you’re finally awake, I see,” she sighs. “You were out for quite some time there. Rough day, eh?” Caleb groans.
“Not our best day, no.”
“No, I mean,” she pushes herself up to sit in front of him, “usually you’re so good at everything but yesterday, you were just,” she sniffs. “Maybe you needed the sleep, that’s what you needed.” She watches his face hopefully.
“Uh,” Caleb looks at a loss. “Thank you.” His Zemnian accent gives his words a musical quality.
“Well, um,” the goblin gulps, “don’t thank me yet. I should, um, probably, uh, tell you what happened while you were asleep,” she doesn’t meet Caleb’s weary gaze. “I mean, you were asleep for so long, I-I-I-I got bored, frankly, I-I was going through my pack and reorganizing…” she trails off. Caleb’s expression grows alarmed.
“Has anybody seen you? Like, seen you, seen you?” His focus drifts to the porcelain mask hung over the bed post, normally seen around the goblin’s neck. The Empire isn’t kind to her people and they’ve taken pains to avoid detection.
“Well,” she drags the word out, “I mean…many people?” She finally admits. “I got bored, y-you, I…” she stutters, “you never slept that long, so I-I left, I went downstairs, I thought I’d do a bit of window shopping and you know how sometimes I-I get the itch?” She looks at him guiltily. “You know?”
“I do,” he replies, voice heavy with dread. “Did you make it back here okay at night?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
“Yeah, but I,” she pauses, “I might have been spotted by a-a few of t-the Crown’s Guard?” Her pitch rises with anxiety.
“Did you have the mask on?” Nott hesitates before answering.
“No,” she shakes her head slightly, “n-no, I didn’t.” Caleb sighs. “But they didn’t catch me, so,” she trails off.
“Okay,” Caleb begins to speak but she continues.
“Listen, I’m sorry. Sometimes I just get the urge,” her faces morphs with a primal hunger, need clear in her eyes, “to take something, you know. I was trying to replenish what you lost yesterday,” she rationalizes. “And I-I failed.” Her voice falls to a whisper with the last word.
Caleb laughs mirthlessly, “It’s going to be a little more difficult now,” he looks at her imploringly. “You can’t run off, it was easy on outskirts, o-on farms, but we can’t do that here.” Nott looks down at her twisting hands.
“I-I know. I’m sorry. Yeah, no, I know. You’re right. Yep. It was-I just got a little bit, you know, squiggly, that’s all.”
“Okay, well, I think today you should have the mask on at all times,” he leans past her to retrieve it and places it in her small, green hands.
“Good idea, Caleb,” Nott continues to look down.
“It’s better when we’re working together. If you’re going-if you need to steal something, do it with my help, alright?”
“Y-yeah, of course,” she nods vigorously. “Yeah.” Caleb returns her nod.
“Back up the conversation a minute. Thank you, because I would not be alive if you had not,” he pauses, swallowing. “You saved my life,” his voice is suddenly imbued with genuine emotion. “Thank you.” Nott shrugs off his gratitude.
“No problem.”
“Yesterday was really,” Caleb sighs, “not great.” Nott wrinkles her nose.
“Yeah, well, we’ll do better today, right?” She smiles up at him.
“Sure,” he laughs quietly, “sure we will.”
His stomach cramps suddenly, protesting the length of his hibernation. Caleb grimaces, looking back to Nott.
“Are you hungry?” Her eyes widen and she immediately answers to the affirmative.
“I’m starving,” she folds her arms around her slender midriff.
Just then, wafting through the air, they each detect the vague scent of cooked meat, porridge, and eggs, clearly coming from downstairs. The goblin’s mouth begins to water.
“Well, Nott, what are we going to do today?” Caleb asks. “Because I can go down and get breakfast and bring it up here, at least,” he pauses, “I mean, I don’t know, I’m a little wary of just splashing back into the town right away.” Nott sighs.
“Let’s go down, get some food. I’ll come with you because, as you said, we’re better together. And, um, we’ll take it from there. You need some books and stuff, right?”
“Always.” Nott acknowledges his response with a tip of her head.
“Alright, well, that’s on the to-do list!” Caleb smiles despite himself at her chipper tone. This shrill goblin was undoing all the work he’d put into isolating himself.
“Let’s get something to eat then.”
Nott affixes the mask to her face, tying the ribbons messily at the back of her head. Her mouth, filled with razor sharp, jagged teeth, is now hidden by the pale, white skin and perfect red lips of a doll. She then tugs up the hood of her well-worn cloak to further obscure her face and throw shadow over her yellow eyes. To the non-observant passerby, she looks like a small, cloaked Halfling woman.
Caleb carefully runs his hands over the books holstered just below his armpits in a harness he jury-rigged himself. Their mere presence steadies his heartbeat and focuses his thoughts.
Finally, the odd pair rises to exit the room and ventures into the depths of the inn.
They enter a room already bustling with townsfolk and travelers squaring their shoulders against the day and filling their bellies with any manner of breakfast foods. Nott’s already large eyes widen to astonishing proportions as she watches food being shuttled from bar to table. Even with the din of the room, Caleb can hear her stomach growling.
Across the room, he spots Yorda, the forty-something barkeep. She’s a stout woman, with weathered skin and shoulder length blond hair. She rushes about in a flurry of activity, filling orders and chatting with patrons, as a red headed barkeep does the same.
Yorda yells from behind the bar, “Adelaine, two more brats and a bit of mush at the corner table!” The red head looks up, annoyance twisting her features.
“I’m working on it!” She runs over and darts into what Caleb assumes is the kitchen. His ears catch a faint strain of music as two slovenly-looking musicians busk in the corner, a small hat containing a few tarnished coppers placed on the floor in front of them.
Most of the tables are filled and it takes them a few minutes to find a vacant one to settle at. What with the chaos of the room, it takes a while for Adelaine, the barmaid, to approach them. She slides carefully between the edge of their table and the encroaching seat of a large man sitting opposite them.
“I’m terribly sorry. What can I get you?” She sounds harried, but kind.
Nott replies first, “Meat, if you have it, but it you don’t, that’s okay too. Potatoes, or bacon if it’s on the menu, but really anything--“ Adelaine cuts her off.
“I can get you all three, it’s fine,” she turns to Caleb. “What do you want?”
“A Trost for each of us, please,” he gestures between himself and Nott.
“For breakfast?” Caleb nods and she smiles. “I like you. All right, two Trosts and a bunch of meats. Be right back.” She rushes back towards the kitchens, pulling her hair up with a length of twine as she goes. As they wait for their order to be filled, the conversation flying around affords the pair a bit of privacy to continue their discussion.
“Yes, I need books, that’s true, but did you find drink yesterday?”
“I have a little left in my flask,” Nott holds up the dented metal she’d been cuddling in her sleep, shaking it so Caleb could hear the slight sloshing sound from within.
“How much?” He asks.
“Just a couple swigs.” She surreptitiously takes a small gulp before returning the flask to her pocket, grimacing at its lightness.
“So that’s also on the to-do list, then.”
“I mean, if you don’t want me to get too jittery, yeah.”
“Alright. Okay. So, we’ll do that first.” Caleb nods to himself.
“Alright.”
A short time later, their food appears. Platters of meat clatter onto the table and Adelaine sets aside a small plate in front of Caleb. She leans down towards him.
“Put something in your belly,” she smiles, kindly. Caleb, unused to such attention, can only mumble his thank you and stare intently at his lap. She steps away to retrieve their Trosts before setting dented, full tankards in front of each of them.
Nott immediately digs in, removing her mask and ravishing the platter. The noise of her eating turns more than a few heads at the tables around them and Caleb does his best of appear nonchalant while he slowly picks at his own meal.
As they finish, Caleb notices the tavern door opening to admit a nondescript, middle-aged man. His heavy beard is unkempt and a bit wild, but doesn’t detract from the warmth of his eyes. He grips a hat tightly in one hand while eagerly scanning the crowded room. In a moment, his face brightens and he begins to weave his way through the maze of tables, heading, it appears, in their direction. Just as Caleb begins to turn to speak, the man turns to the table next to them instead.
Beauregard watches the fisherman approach their table, and elbows Fjord, the half-orc sitting next to her. He nods in acknowledgment as he too, notices Rinaldo. Jester, the third member of their party, sits with her back to the door and is thus ignorant of the man’s arrival until he speaks.
“Might I sit, please?” His voice is quiet, but deep and powerful. Jester, looking over her shoulder, smiles widely flashing her sharp, tiefling teeth.
“Of course! Take a seat!”
Nott has now also noticed the interaction taking place at the table over and subtly turns to observe the occupants.
The blue one just spoke. She is obviously a tiefling, with short hair a darker blue than her skin, and curving horns tipped with silver framing her smiling face. Across from her sits a gruff looking woman, wearing an array of blue fabrics. This woman had shaved the sides of her head while the remainder of her hair was tied back in a top knot. Next to that her is a green half orc, a jagged scar running across his face. And there’s the newcomer. Caleb and Nott silently appraise the group as their conversation continues.
“I thank you for your time, Fjord.” The man speaks again. “And, I apologize, I forget your names.”
The one with the undercut speaks first, “Beauregard.” She reaches out to shake the man’s hand.
“Jester,” the blue one adds, still smiling. Nott thought it must hurt, to be that happy all the time.
Rinaldo nods and clears his throat.
“You all came when no one else would yesterday, and because of you my daughter is still alive.” His eyes turn glassy at the thought.
Beauregard speaks, “Sorry, for being a pessimistic asshole, by the way, when we first came into town.” Rinaldo smiles.
“Oh, that’s okay.”
“I’m not used to things turning out…good,” she continues.
“You’ll do well this side of the Empire. Anyway, I won’t keep you. We spoke yesterday, and I didn’t have much to give you. Sent you away with nothing but my gratitude. But I’ve been asking around the other fishermen, lochsmen, and we’ve put together a little bit of coin for your troubles, so.” He overturns his cap onto their table and the sound of cascading coins fills the room. Nott’s prying eyes reflect the shimmering silver and copper now piled in front of the other group.
Fjord senses the room’s attention now upon them and the money they’ve just been given. Rinaldo pushes the mound across the pockmarked table towards them.
“I hope it’s helpful, and thank you.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Beau’s voice sounds far away as she stares at the coin.
“We can’t accept this, right? I mean, it’s too much.” Fjord speaks, looking to the other two.
“We’re supposed to at least say that, right? And then still accept it?” Beau replies, not bothering to whisper.
“I think you’re supposed to do it if you say it,” Fjord looks disapproving.
“Well, I mean,” Jester cuts in, “he did go around to a bunch of people. That was a lot of work on his part. I would hate to make him go back to all those people and give it back to each individual person.”
“Fine, fine,” Fjord relents.
“If he didn’t keep a ledger, you know. We wouldn’t want to do that. It’s rude not to accept a gift, right?” Beau turns back to Rinaldo. “It’s rude not to accept a gift, right?”
“I would hope that is the case. Anyway, thank you very much. I am sorry for getting in your way.” The fisherman stands, gives them all a small nod, and rushes from the tavern, seemingly embarrassed by all the attention he was now receiving from the other patrons. With his departure, everyone returns to the business, the volume in the room rising once more.
“Beau!” Jester whispers. “Divide it up!” The other woman nods, pulling the coin toward her with both arms.
“Okay, okay.” She separates the loot into piles, one for each of them. “How do you split up four gold?” She frowns. “We have four gold and there’s only three of us.”
Jester shrugs, “I don’t know.”
“Well, I actually did pretty good at that card game last night, so you can have mine,” Fjord volunteers.
“Aw, I will. Okay.” Beau grins wickedly as she redistributed the piles.
“So, two for each of us! That’s great!” Jester’s chipper tone is jarring to Caleb’s ears, even sitting at a different table. He does his best not to flinch and betray his eavesdropping. He can tell from the greedy glint in Nott’s eye that she is also listening in on their neighbors.
Fjord takes in the strange pair sitting adjacent to him. Even through the dirt and grime, he can see the red glint of the tall man’s messy hair. And that coat, he’d have thrown it away weeks ago if it were his. The smaller figure is harder to observe. Man or woman, it’s wearing a dark cloak and the shadows across it’s face prevent Fjord from discerning any of it’s features aside from the bright eyes turned his direction. It makes no move to hide it’s curiosity as it slowly leans towards their table.
Fjord mumbles to himself before getting the attention of the two women, “I think we have people watching us.” He jerks his chin in the direction of the tall man and cloaked figure.
“Who is watching us?” Jester whispers, leaning low to the table.
“Well, just take a look right over there.”
At the other table, Nott is still entranced by the sight of the money. “Don’t arouse suspicion, but did you hear all that coin hit that table, Caleb?”
“I did. It’s on the table, though, so I think on the table it will stay,” he replies.
“Yes, but we could follow them out,” Nott persists. “We could do the Moneypot. We could run Rat Food. We could do the Prince and the Pauper to get it from them. We could try Spider Eyes. Any of those could work-”
“Are you guys staying here?” The bright voice of the tiefling interrupts their conversation. Nott jumps in surprise when she notices the blue form leaning towards them.
“Don’t move,” Nott is suddenly stock still. “Don’t move. Tieflings can only see movement.”
“I don’t think that’s true,” Caleb begins.
“It’s very true,” Jester agrees, “we have a hard time seeing things that aren’t moving, it’s very true. But I can hear you,” she turns to Caleb. “You should take a bath. You know they have showers here. It’s possible.”
“A what now?”
“You bathe yourself in water,” Jester explains, without a note of condescension in her voice.
“No, I’ve bathed before. I know what a bath is.”
“It’s because you smell really bad,” she lowers her voice conspiratorially, “and it’s wafting over this direction. I’m just letting you know. I would hate if I smelled that bad and someone didn’t tell me.”
He looks completely at a loss, “I’ve only just met you.”
She reaches out a hand, “Hi! I’m Jester.” He leaves his hands folded in his lap.
“Hi, I’m Caleb.”
“Nice to meet you, Caleb,” she mimes shaking hands with the air. She turns back towards her own table. “How much silver did I just get?”
“Seven!” Beau shouts.
“Woo!”
“And 16 copper,” the other woman adds. “Aren’t you all jealous?”
Nott crosses her arms meekly, “Morning.”
“Morning,” Beau’s happy tone is at odds with the goblin’s wary one. She squints at the small form. She’d assumed it was a Halfling, but there’s something not right about those ears. And that skin. She clears her throat and adds, in Halfling, “Good morning!”
“Top of the morning to you,” Nott replies, also in Halfling.
“Would you like a coffee? I’d love to buy you a coffee,” Beau offers.
“We’ve got-” Nott begins, but changes her mind quickly. “Free coffee? Yeah, yeah, I’ll take it. Sure, thank you.”
Fjord leans into Beau’s ear, “You’re being mighty fucking friendly. They were looking at our coin.”
“Why can’t they have been looking at me? Maybe they were looking at me.”
Fjord admits, “I didn’t think of that.”
“Maybe they were looking at you. As Jester said, you’re handsome.” The tiefling nods in agreement.
“Could I get another Trost over here, please?” Caleb’s voice raises above the continued chatter from the other table.
Nott speaks up as well, “Two, please, right away.”
Adelaine quickly appears with two fresh tankards. She notices the other group nearby.
“Would you like anything as well?”
“Oh, yes,” Jester answers. “Lots of baked goods if you have them, please.”
“Pork belly, if you have it,” Fjord adds.
Beau turns to the tiefling, “I don’t think I’ve seen you eat anything other than pastries.”
“I really like them,” she explains.
“I’m kind of concerned for your well-being,” Beau begins, but then reconsiders. “It’s fine, I’m not that concerned. Eat whatever you want.” She turns to Adelaine, “I’ll have bacon, some ham, whatever.”
“Alright, pork it is. I’ll be right back,” the redhead leaves to fill their order. While they wait, Caleb subtly raises a hand to shield his mouth from the other’s view.
He whispers to Nott, “The Moneypot is not for them. It’s not for them, it’s for farmers. Okay?”
Nott quickly agrees, “Y-yeah, you’re right, you’re right.” Beau watches this exchange with bemused curiosity. The small woman turns to her and speaks in Halfling once more, “Are you in town for business or pleasure?” Beau squints, trying to get a read on this mysterious figure. She can’t discern it’s intent through all it’s various coverings.
“Are you cold?” She finally asks.
Caleb sighs and speaks, “I mean, I’m sorry, not to be blunt, but, you know. It’s pretty obvious goblins are not welcome strolling about.”
Jester gasps, “She’s a goblin?”
“Yeah,” Nott nods, “but you don’t have to make a big thing of it, alright? There could be people here who don’t know.”
“That’s right,” Caleb says firmly. “She’s my companion, she’s my friend. There’s nothing to make a big deal about. That’s why she’s wrapped up. Just leave it, please.”
“I didn’t ask why she was wrapped up,” Jester replies, earnestly.
“I know, we’re not making a big deal out of it. You’re making a big deal out of it.” Caleb grunts.
“Whatever,” he wraps both hands around his tankard and takes a deep gulp. A commotion at the entrance of the tavern distracts them all from the growing tension. Two shadowy figures enter, edges blurred by the bright sun spilling in behind them. The group watches as the smaller of the two begins moving from table to table, taking with patrons and handing out small sheets of paper, the larger figure always a few feet behind.
Fjord appraises these newcomers with a wary eye. The small, talkative one is a lavender tiefling with a flamboyant, embroidered robe billowing behind him. Even from across the room, Fjord can make out the deep red of the man’s eyes. His horns arch back, away from his face, and are intricately adorned with all manner of shiny jewelry that catches the light. When the man turns, the group catches sight of the twin swords holstered over his back, hilts poking up over his shoulders. It isn’t until the tiefling approaches their table that the tattoo becomes visible. A large, intricate peacock feather travels up his chest and neck, even covering a portion of his jaw.
While Fjord makes these observations, Beau is watching the woman. She’s much taller than the tiefling, but is hovering a few steps behind, watching as he talks. Her crossed arms accentuate her bulging muscles, and the huge sword at her shoulder gives Beau pause. The woman’s wild hair is braided and mussed, black at the roots and fading to white at the ends. Like her companion, her eyes are remarkable, mismatched blue and violet, and they stand out against her astonishingly pale skin. Her clothes have clearly seen better days, but appear functional and comfortable. Beau can’t decide if this feeling is fear or arousal. Maybe both.
Molly catches this strange group watching him from across the room. He glances at Yasha over his shoulder and crooks a finger, indicating for her to follow. As he moves towards these odd people, he grasps the edges of his robe, flicking his wrists just so. The fabric billows out behind him, and he watches their eyes follow the movement.
“Well,” he smiles warmly at each of their faces in turn. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a group of people more in need of a good time in my entire life. Mollymauk Tealeaf of the Fletching and Moondrop Carnival of Curiosities,” he hands a flyer to Jester, who’s eyes widen at the prospective of the spectacle. “If there was ever a group of people that needed a good time to go out, have a laugh, see things you have never seen before, and my god, take my word for it, one month’s time, people will be buying your ale to hear the tale of what you saw at the Traveling Carnival of Curiosities this night.” Caleb watches the man warily. He doesn’t think he can trust someone dressed so ostentatiously. Fjord and Beau look similarly skeptical, while Jester and Nott are positively entranced.
“We saw your tent going up!” Jester exclaimed. “We did!”
Beau tilts her head in agreement, “We were actually going to go without the flyer, but now we also have a flyer.”
“It’s just five copper,” Molly explains. “A steal. At five silver, it would be a steal. At five gold? Worth every cent. But if you’ve got the five copper to spend, we would happily have you all.”
Jester clasps her hands excitedly, “Do you perform?”
“Ah,” Molly sighs, smiling. “I’m less of a performer and more of an intermediary for these parts. I do on occasion perform.” He bats his lashes at the other tiefling, “I can read fortunes-” She gasps loudly.
“I was going to ask if you read fortunes! Can you do one now?”
“I knew you were going to ask that.” She gasps again.
“Oh my gosh, you’re so smart.” Jester turns back to the group, “Look at this guy, he knows everything!” Beau opens her mouth to protest but Molly cuts her off by boldly drawing out a chair and taking a seat at their table.
One of the barmaids approaches the tall woman who, Beau notices, has made no attempt to join her compatriot at their table. The barmaid hardly comes up to the woman’s shoulder and has to tilt her head back to address her directly.
“Miss, can I get you a drink?”
“Yes,” Yasha deadpans, “could I have a drink please. Just some ale.”
“Coming right up,” the shorter woman nods. “Any preferences for the family? Baumbauch?” At this point, Jester cuts in.
“Stay clear of Baumbach,” she advises. “They’re dicks.”
“That’s kind of true,” Beau agrees, still watching the large woman closely.
Yasha shrugs, “Just make it big.” She indicates a large tankard with her hands. The barkeep inclines her head.
“Husseldorf, then. Alright, be right back.” They all watch her wander back towards the bar.
“Well,” Molly turns his brilliant smile upon the group once more. “Who has coin for a fortune?”
“Do you know my name?” Jester asks dramatically, raising an eyebrow.
“What is your name?”
“Jester!”
“I know your name now!” They both laugh gleefully. Caleb looks extremely taken aback by the whole exchange, while Nott appears to be attempting to remove Jester’s pouch from her waist while she’s distracted.
When she’s finally calmed herself down, Jester asks, “What is your name?”
“Oh, my name is Molly to my friends and we’re friends now, aren’t we?” Jester reaches out to shake his hand enthusiastically. “Pleasure.”
“Molly,” Jester exclaims. She turns to Beau, jerking a thumb at her new friend. “Look at this guy!”
“Mollymauk. Molly for short.” He gestures to the large woman, “This is Yasha, she’s a charm.”
She raises a hand in acknowledgment, “Hello.”
“Now,” Molly lowers his voice dramatically. “Would anyone like a fortune read?”
“I would love one,” Jester claps her hands together excitedly.
“Do you have coin?”
“Yes,” she turns to rifle through her pouch, Nott only just drawing her small hands away in time to avoid disaster. “How much do you want?”
“Two copper.”
“Two copper, okay! I just got some copper! Here you go!” She withdraws two coins from the small pouch and Nott’s eyes follow them intently as she hands them off to Molly, who slips them into his own pouch. The tiefling’s ringed fingers drift from his pouch to a pocket within his robes. He extricates a small wooden box, opening it to reveal a beautiful set of cards, which he begins to shuffle.
Yasha speaks as he continues to prepare, “He’s really quite good, you all should line up and get your fortunes told.” Her emotionless voice is muffled by the tankard she holds at her lips.
While Jester’s eyes focus on Molly’s face, Nott watches his hands on the cards, not quite trusting this strange man. She doesn’t notice anything awry, but keeps looking just in case.
Molly finishes setting up the reading and meets Jester’s curious gaze, “Your first card, the Silver Dragon. This is good. You’re pure, you’re virtue, you are a worthwhile and wonderful human being, obviously, or creature of some repute.” Jester’s awed expression morphs into a wide smile.
“That’s what everyone always tells me.”
“It’s true,” Molly inclines his head. “And heading towards the Anvil.”
“What is that?” Her voice dips to a whisper.
“That,” Molly reaches up with his index finger to lightly tap her blue nose, “is a destiny forged.” Jester giggles at the touch.
“Ooh,” Yasha speaks from behind him, sounding like she wished she could be anywhere else.
“There is something bright and adventurous in your future.”
“Wow!” She exclaims. “You know, we did just defeat a really big snake? So maybe there’s even bigger things coming up, you know?” She says, seriously. Molly flashes the Serpent card and drops it in front of her.
“Of course you did!” Jester gasps and raises her hands to the sides of her head in surprise. “Oh my gosh! Look at that! How did you even do that?”
Molly demurs, “That’s all the cards. I’m simply a vessel for higher powers.”
“Will you ask the cards if I’m going to find him?”
“If you’re going to find her?” Molly asks, confused.
“Him!” Jester corrects.
“Give me a little bit more. Who’s this ‘him’ that you’re looking for?”
“I’m looking for my dad.” Molly hums in understanding, consulting the cards briefly before withdrawing the Eye card.
“You’ve already found the clue you’re looking for. You just don’t know what it is yet.”
“Really?” She breathes. Molly nods.
“Apparently. Well, it’s what the cards are saying. It’s right in front of you.”
“Wow,” she looks thoughtful. “Does it say how long ago I found it?”
Molly frowns, “Sadly, I don’t have that sort of specifics. That’s much more expensive.” Jester sighs.
“That’s going to take a lot of thinking.”
“Well,” Molly shrugs, “you find us at the show, you’ll find my tent and I’d be happy to give you a more complicated reading.” She grins.
“I can’t wait! It’s going to be so much fun.” The rest of the group, who’ve been watching this interaction with unmasked curiosity and more than a little suspicion, all nod halfheartedly.
Beau points to Yasha, “Do you perform in the circus too?”
“No. I do not. I just,” she pauses, “I put it up.”
“Oh,” Beau exclaims in understanding. “Cool.”
“The tent?” Fjord asks, clarifying. Yasha nods.
“It’s a big tent,” Jester says. “It would take a lot of work.”
Yasha shrugs, “I put up the stage, I move things around. I’m very strong. But I don’t do anything in the show.”
“Some of our acts are a little complicated,” Molly explains, “with performers who are not of the traditional variety. It can make some of the locals get a little shifty, if you know what I mean, and it’s good to have a few people around who are capable of keeping issues contained.” Now that he’s talking to the group at large, Molly’s mouth moves a mile a minute.
“Is that why it says, ‘No admittance to the elderly’?” Beau asks. “You don’t want to deal with those riley elderlies. Or the ill. Why no elderly, though? Ill kind of makes sense, but elderly?” Her tone sounds skeptical.
Molly raises a hand in defense, “We cannot be held responsible for anything that may happen to someone who is ill or infirm. It is such an exciting, impressive show.”
“We’ve had people die watching it,” Yasha says bluntly. “It’s just that exciting. Just from excitement.” Several members of the group begin speaking at once, brimming with questions.
Fjord’s voice rises above the others, “Did they die in the show, or from watching it?” Yasha shrugs.
“Yeah, just like,” she gestures to her chest, “heart attack. From getting so excited, I guess.” Beau flicks a conspiratorial glance to Fjord.
“We’ve got to get so wasted.”
“When is it?” Jester asks. “How long is it? When is it?” She repeats.
“First show is tonight.”
“Well, we have plans tonight!”
“Ayy!” Beau exclaims, sounding genuinely excited.
Jester turns to Caleb and Nott, “Do you stinky people want to come with us?”
“I-” Nott begins, “Caleb, we don’t have any plans tonight. I guess we could go along. I wouldn’t mind seeing it.”
“It will be fun!” Beau wheedles.
“Or you could stay here and buy beer for the people who do see the shows, and you can hear all about it and pay more,” Molly adds.
Caleb turns to Nott, “Yeah, we can go.” Jester gasps in excitement.
“It’s going to be so much fun!”
“Yeah,” Nott nods, “yeah, it sounds like a good night.”
“Look at all these friends we’re making here. This is a good city,” Jester sighs contentedly. When no one speaks, Jester looks around the group.
“Yeah,” Nott says hurriedly. “It is.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Beau shrugs.
“You are all the most charming people I’ve met in a long time,” Molly slams back the rest of his drink. “Well, we’d better be getting on.”
Yasha finishes her beer as well, “Yep, nice to meet you all. You’re so…wonderful.” Molly waves a hand her direction.
“Charm. Pure charm. See you tonight!” He rises and heads for the door, handing out a few last flyers as he goes, Yasha hovering behind.