Rolls Request

As Last Night settles across the world, Balneiros secludes himself inside of his house and stares at the fire pit in the center of his home. What many used as a night to meditate and reflect, Balneiros would use as both an opportunity to practice and pray. Turning to the room adjoining his, Bal points at one of the small crates and attempts to float it into the empty fire pit.

[Mage Hand- 2x2 empty crate.]

A rickety carriage sat upon the village green in preparation for the throng of people that would celebrate the holiday, its owner well aware that an entrepreneur's work was never done and that if he was to enjoy the Dawnsday festivities in style. Over the top of the cart, where it opened to reveal a stall, were gilded letters that proudly identified it as "Mrs Cypher's Magical Emporium," all the letter capitalized, with the A in Magical in the shape of the all seeing eye.

The stall's proprietor stood out front, in a suit and top hat that looked far too clean for a man who lived in his cart, an intricately detailed walking stick in his hand with the same design of the all seeing eye serving as its grip, intricately carved in a deep black ebony. He used it more as a theatric tool to motion and gesture, than to actually walk.

"Come one, come all, to Mr. Cypher's Magical Emporium," he called out in a voice that carried accross the green. "Start the new year right with a concoction or two to bring the new gods delight, crafted from exotic ingredients from around the world, guaranteed to satisfy." As he spoke, he used prestidigitation to make a few vials of brightly colored potions appear in the air and orbit around him magically. "Enflame the passions of the object of your Dawnsday desire with a few drops of my own proprietary blend, diluted from a red dragon': ignus gland!" he motioned to a bright red coal. "Or guarantee wealth in the new year with a drought of leprechaun tears," a bright green bottle paused in the air before him as he motioned to it with his cane. "Or perhaps you want luck in the day's games. Well, there is nothing more fortuitous than a dusting of ground fairy bones," a bright gold concoction that shimmered in the sun floated into view. "Or perhaps you simply wish for protection for your family from the wrath of the old gods. Ward them away with a sprinkle of holy water from the shining sea," the last bottle, unnaturally blue, came into view. "Get them now at a bargain price or regret it for the rest of the year."

In truth, they were all just colored water, with a few bits thrown in for flavor. Whenever he ran out of one, he would simply "check in the back for more" and use prestidigitation to turn a red vial green. There were, of course, actual magical trinkets to be found in the town shops, but Louis had found that fools tended to prefer the lie and this town had no shortage of fools.

[CHA 16+5 Deception]

Louis gave the draught a moment to "kick in" before he reached out with his concioisness into the man's mind, tendrils of thought probing within. He made the mental voice sound like an alien consciousness, strange and terrible, beginning as a host of dissonant whispers all vying to be heard before one terrible thought rose to prominence among the rest, drowning out the others.

"When you sleep tonight, lids heavy from drunken revelry, your companions are going to open your belly for the few coins in your pocket. The last thing you taste before the Goddess of Death claims you will be your or own blood and shit as your entrails become extrails. Kill or be killed!"

Outwards, the elusive Me. Cypher held his smile, looking around at the gathered crowd as if they were about to see something wondrous.

(Awakened Mind-You can telepathically speak to any creature you can see within 30 feet of you. You don't need to share a language with the creature for it to understand your telepathic utterances.)

Clive sat near the edge of the stage, guitar in hand. He did not lack for confidence, being the only professional bard in the village, but still would not slack off in his performance.

"This was written for a young woman in Sparke, as an exercise in flattery. It worked, and yet it did not work. I like to imagine that the right woman has simply not heard me play it yet. The gods are mischievous with their gifts.

And then he played. (+5)