The Shadow Carnevale (RP)

Albert looks behind him. Everyone is sound asleep. They'll be fine for a few minutes. He concludes and gets up to go and have a look at the group that has taken up a spot near them. I'll just check them out from behind a tree first. It's unlikely they'll see me in this darkness.

Now a bit closer, he can see a few wagons. Though, just as he's hidden to them, it's hard to see more than some moving shapes. He decides to wait and watch for a minute or two.

Lille has the fire well banked, and has been moving to different spots around the campsite every so often. The repositioning not only helps keep her awake, but lets her see and hear the surrounding woods from different angles. The sudden intrusion of noise into the otherwise quiet night sets her on high alert, crouched by a bush with one hand clenched on her staff and the other hovering over her knife at her waist.

As the sounds and sights evolve, Lille watches with tense curiosity. I will NOT wake them this time, she resolves to herself. I will deal with this myself. With a last glance at the group’s sleeping forms, she slips forward between the trees, silently flitting to each new bit of cover when the right noise or action happens to cover her movement.

Lille lurks in the shadow of a tent, gazing in awe at the spectacle around her. Where did all these people come from? Her query is lost amid the new sensations that flood her mind. She leans low, preparing to scuttle on all fours to another shadowed spot but then stops. No, I am an adventurer now. I will face this like they would. She straightens, squares her slender shoulders, and marches around the front of the tent to the first fair worker she can find. "What is all this?" She plants her staff firmly with one hand and manages not to twitch from the gaze and proximity of so many people. But old habits die hard, so she also tries to surreptitiously peek into the tent opening.

Roald turns his head to locate the origin of the voice. He sees lights in the distance, growing in number.
"Albert, Albert" He whispers his name not to wake up anyone else.

When Albert doesn't react he thinks it through
Everyone has had a rough day, maybe it's better if I just let them sleep.

Roald stands up, hesitates for a moment while looking at the sleeping bodies, and walks towards the light reassured they will be fine. No one would rob them when there is such a large crowd right next to them. Right?

He tries to stay in the shadows as much as possible. More and more lights come into view as he creeps closer. And the sounds,... the noise... people shouting, laughing,... what is this?

Albert watches as the people show up to the booth to enter the tents. What is going on here? Albert thinks. A show at this time of night? Kids showing up? They should be in bed. And we're not close to any village as far as I know. A whiff of manure reaches his nose, reminding him of his childhood. Back when he lived with his parents next to the village stables. They must have horses here, or some kind of animal at least. Perhaps this carnival had more exotic animals. It did kind of excite Albert in a way. But still the oddity of the timing made him think twice about approaching.

"Hey Albert! Are you awake?" One of the people at the booth seems to say to a person who just arrived. He's surprised to hear his own name until he realizes it's not aimed at him. Must be a regular. The man mumbles something back and heads on inside.
Over on the other side, where some setup is still being done. One of the carnies tells another "We will unstake the tent here and here and use rope to re-tie to those tree branches."

Albert decides to go and check out the back. Perhaps he can get a view inside that will give him a better idea of what this is before he tries to talk to anyone. They seem to be making a lot of noise, which might wake up his companions and they need their rest. Somebody should probably have a word with them.

Albert looks left and right to see if that other Albert person is anywhere in sight. However, he seems to be alone here. After waiting a few moments in silence, he steps forward. "Are you talking to me? Do I know you?"

Albert looks at the bear, then at the hostler, then at the bear again, then back to the hostler. "This isn't my bear." He sounds confused. "Why do you think I should do something about it? I'm a bartender, not a bear wrangler."

He checks behind him. The light of the campfire can no longer be seen with the light coming from the caravan. He can't help but worry about his companions a bit. Hopefully they are still ok. He could go get Lille, she's got experience with bears.

"I know someone who's good with bears, though. We could help you out." An opportunistic thought enters his mind. "For a fee."

Lille frowns in consternation at the claim. Why would they seem so excited about something that’s frightful? The laugh of a small child across the crowds doubles the apparent contradiction. "I will determine if it is truly a threat." She starts to walk confidently into the tent.

Roald walks up to the man and asks "How much?"
He pays the amount asked for and the man hands him a long pole with a hook at the end. The pole is heavy and far too long to be accurate. The hook dangles from a piece of rope which makes aiming for the metal rings on the duck's heads even harder.
At least he painted them...
But Roald is strong and determined to "show him". Yet, everytime he almost hooks a duck, the bastard splashes with his hand in the tub and stirs everything up. Roald keeps trying over and over again, slowly losing his temper.
"Stop. Doing. That." he says, but oddly his words are not directed at the owner.