Carnival of Chaos - Cristoff Whitemarch
No. This was most certainly not a change for the better.
The moment Aneura knocked on the door, everything seemed to melt away and reform, and within moments the eerie, shadowy, unnaturally quiet town had transformed into an eerie, colorful, unnaturally noisy… “Carnival of Chaos”, Cristoff whispered, inaudible over the cacophony of the clowns and jugglers and firebreathers.
Tristan and the General had drawn their weapons, but Cristoff resisted the urge, knowing they could attract unwanted attention.
He looked around quickly, taking in as much detail as possible. It was obvious that there was Illusion magic at work – but what was less clear was, which was the illusion? Was the original, quiet town a disguise, or was it the circus that was imposed on their senses in order to throw them off? Cristoff’s first instinct was to run, but he quickly checked it. No; whichever was the illusion, there was an incredibly skilled Illusion mage at work. If he could so easily put them all under his spell, it was doubtful they could run away unless their enemy allowed it. The memory of the Ranger screaming about crows eating out his eyes convinced Cristoff that attempting to flee would be futile.
He was interrupted in his thoughts by a clown approaching the group. Cristoff tensed, but the clown only said, “Welcome to the Carnival of Chaos, go to the inn and speak to he who commands obedience to learn your place in his pattern."
It was at this time that Cristoff noticed the inn had remained exactly as it had been, a brooding, dark establishment that stood in stark contrast to the array of colors all around it. It was the only thing that retained its previous form, aside from the innumerable crows, which still watched their every move as they shuffled about, attempting to come to a decision.
It was clear that the only way they could escape this situation would be to do as they were told – at least, until they saw an opening. Thinking quickly, Cristoff attempted to detect a magic user or a spell being cast – for such a large illusion would take a powerful spellcaster who should, if he was not hiding his latent magical ability, be easy to detect. The idea was to determine whether the man indeed awaited them in the inn.
Once he had finished with this attempt, he cleared his throat. “It’s clear we’re left with little choice”, Cristoff said aloud to the party. “Let’s move towards the inn.” The others, he understood, had come to the same conclusion, for after exchanging a few words, they stepped in line behind him as he set foot in that direction.
Cristoff had taken the lead on purpose though; he took a route, ever so slightly longer than necessary, and passed by next to a performer who, with a look that Cristoff could only describe as murderous, was breathing fire, for the benefit of a nonexistent crowd. He brushed by him, ever so softly, as though he had simply been pushed onto him by the jostle of people; he did the same immediately afterwards to a non-performer, trying to make sure he could physically feel them and that they were not ethereal or utterly nonexistent.