It is the first day of autumn and the quiet, coastal town of Sandpoint is bustling with merrymakers - some travelling all the way from Magnamar, City of Monuments - to celebrate the Swallowtail Festival and witness the consecration of the new cathedral in the center of town. Merchants and minstrels alike have claimed whatever space is available in the open squares and narrow sidestreets. There are jugglers and puppet shows and stalls flogging everything from local craftwork to cheap souvenirs.
You have already heard the welcoming speeches. First, Mayor Kendra Deverin took the stage to thank everyone for coming. Her speech was followed by the taciturn words of Sheriff Belor Hemlock, who reminded the crowd that order would be maintained regardless of the general revelry and anyone not wishing to spend the evening cooling off in a cell should keep that in mind. Finally, Father Abstalar Zantus recounts the parable of Desna (how the goddess fell to Golarion and was nursed back to health by a blind child, who Desna transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her kindness), before releasing a vast cloud of butterflies into the air from the bed of a covered wagon in the center of the town square.
It is still only mid-morning and the festivities will continue long into the night. Local businesses have set up tables in the streets, nobody will have to pay for food/drink today!
Serax wonders aimlessly through the Festival crowd, aware of but not really seeing the merrymakers around him. His mind is focused on the memories of his banishment from Kyorin. Just because I set fire to the Academy with a flame elemental that got a bit out of control is no reason to banish the best Acolyte that the Academy has seen in decades.
Serax gives a sigh and tries to turn his attention to the future. I'll show those fools one day. They will beg me to come back to their precious Academy. Just they wait though, I would not go back now no matter how much they beg.
He sadly contemplates the state of his coin purse. Unfortunately, I guess i will have to find some locals, he thinks with disgust, to 'partner' with for adventuring. At least Varsia is full of ruins from Thassilon. I cannot wait to get hold of some of those magic artifacts.
Natalie gleefully wonders through the crowds, and while she has some issue seeing around the crowds of people nearly twice her height, this does nothing to hinder her overwhelming joy at the festivities. Failing to catch a butterfly, she turns her attention to the tables of food sneaking any desserts she can get her childlike hands on. The small gnome's bobbing head overflowing with gold hair is all that many venders see as their various sweets disappear.
Meanwhile her faithful companion, a duck hawk with wingspan larger than her and named Albinus, circles the square from high above.
Sandpoint is definitely not Iadara, it is not even Magnimar. I believe that the Caravan owner may have lied to me when he said magic items are easy to obtain here Serax thinks as he looks at the sad display of souvenirs and local 'craftwork. Could he been trying to get rid of me for some reason? Probably jealous of my abilities. I doubt he could have been that mad just because my water elemental soaked a wagon full of goods. Humans are odd creatures.
Serax pauses in his sad review of the available goods. A flash of golden hair catches his attention. I wonder what a gnome is doing is this backwoods human town.
After collecting a sizable pile of confections, the happy creature with hair too golden for someone purely mortal settled down in front of a shop. She quickly had out parchment and a quill to begin rapidly jotting notes of the day while crumbs scattered all about her.
These humans are pretty fun. Parties and food and all sorts of fun. Too bad I'm too broke to get clockwork supplies...
Thorgrund makes his way through the throngs of people, desperately trying to find a vendor with ale. For the most part, most of the throng quickly get out of his way as the muscled, well armed dwarf warrior approaches. But he does occasionally need to nudge a few revelers out of the way.
Finally, he sees what he was looking for, and shoulders his way to a table with several casks of ale setting upon it.
"I thirst! This dwarf needs ale!" he bellows as he slams a fist on the table. The startled barkeep quickly fills a stein, and Thorgrund empties it just as fast.
"Another!" he says loudly, glaring at the barkeep. As the rattled man takes the stein to refill it, Thorgrund turns around to watch the people going by.
Serax's attention is drawn to one of the refreshment tables by some sort of commotion. He strolls over to get a closer look.
Hmmpphhh...should have known. Of course it would be a dwarf making so much noise. And for ale of all things, nasty drink. Typical boorish behavior.
Serax gives the dwarf a more careful examination. Interesting...he moves with the grace of a trained warrior. I do not see any other dwarves around though so he is likely not part of a war band.
Seated opposite Thorgrund, a densely muscled half-orc with craggy features and a scar glowers at the boisterous dwarf from across the table.
"What's that you're drinking, dwarf?" he demands, "The piss this fool sells is no more potent a brew than my last night's bathwater! If you think you can handle it, perhaps you'd like to try something stronger!"
From a satchel beside his bench, the half-orc withdraws a clay vessel with a childish skull and crossbones motif stencilled on the side. Wrenching the stopper from the wide neck, the brute sniffs carefully and recoils from the fumes wafting from the bottle.
"Real orc whisky, all the way from Belkzen!" he assures you, calling for two fresh mugs, "What say we make this interesting, eh? A little wager on which of us can stay upright the longest...? Unless you'd prefer to keep drinking that bathwater."
Noticing Serax observing events from among the crowd, the half-orc leers.
"And what about you, Princess Pointy-Ears? You think you can hold your liquor?"
Sitting nearby, Natalie is immediately hit by the smell of the liquor. She quickly stuff hers writing supplies into her backpack, brushes off the crumbs of all the already devoured food, and rushes to the half-orc.
With wide emerald green eyes and a huge smile, the gnome pops up on the table with perhaps too much eagerness, "That smells wonderful! Can I have some?"
Princess Pointy Ears?!?!?!...the nerve of that animal. I think a nice fire elements conjured on top of his vessel would be very interesting... Serax takes a few deep breaths to calm himself as he realizes that setting the half-Orc on fire may not be looked at favorably by the locals (especially as some of them may also end up on fire.)
A small smile plays across his face as a more sublte plan forms in his mind. He moves his hand in small precise gestures and mouths words under his breath...
A loud voice (that sounds remarkably like that of the Orc) comes from the other side of the Orc and bellows "Who let this ugly half-orc animal off of his leash...he needs to be caged up!!"
"Bah! says Thorgrund. "That stuff ain't fit for scrubbin' a midden heap!"
He stands suddenly, knocking the stool he was sitting on into the street. Donning an offended look, he stares at the half-orc for a few moments...then cracks a wide grin.
He begins to laugh, shaking his head.
He bows slightly. "Thorgrund Bronnsson, at yer service!"
"The more the merrier!" the drunken half-orc responds with a wide, gap-toothed grin. As Natalie's head pops up at the table, he begins pouring the contents of his flask into a line of mugs queued haphazardly in front of him, spilling more than half onto the tabletop, where it immediately begins stripping the paint.
"Whoosat?! Whassatnoise?!" he cries, staring around all boggle eyed as Serax's phantom shout startles him. The half-orc leaps to his feet, trip over the bench behind him and sprawls face up in the middle of the street.
"Govri, at yours!" he answers, reaching out a leathery fist for the dwarf to help him back onto his feet, "Don't have a family name, don't have a family. Got a business though. See those guys pushing the red wheelbarrows around town, picking up after you lot, they work for me!"
Thorgrund grabs the half-orc's proffered hand, easily helping the man to his feet.
"Easy, lad...plenty of time fer begin' fall-down-drunk once the sun is down..."
He scans the crowd, attempting to spot a likely culprit of the prank.
The gnome quickly downs the beverage in one go while awkwardly holding the too large mug.
"Hi! I'm Natalie Neverfalter Nimblefoot. Have you tried the desserts here yet?"
Clearly she is too busy being overly excited at the events to pay attention to the trickery or falling half-orc. Instead she just carries on rambling like everything is normal.
Serax smiles as the half Orc falls. Then his smile falters as he notices the dwarf scanning the crowd. Serax moves away from the group before any more trouble starts. He cheers himself with the mental image of a flaming half Orc running through the streets of Sandpoint.
As you haul the half-orc to his (somewhat unsteady) feet, you notice that the crowd has begun drifting into the large, open square in the centre of the town. The excited muttering among the locals is that Father Zantus is about to begin the consecration of the new cathedral.
" - and about time, too!" you overhear an eldery fisherman grizzling to whoever will listen, "Five years ago the old one burnt down. Bad times, they were - what with the death of old Father Tobyn and his young daughter. Terrible, terrible way to go."
Rolling for thief skill check (Skill Lvl 32)
Serax follows the crowd towards the open square. "I think that dwarf might have noticed me casting the illusion. Well, he better mind his business unless he want an air elemental to take him for a 'spin'". Serax laughs out loud from his own joke and stops near the edge of the square to watch the consecration.
"Hopefully this ceremony will be shorter than those in Kyorin. Those could last for days."
And the gnome falls off the table mid sentence.
The town square in the center of Sandpoint is packed tightly with people, eagerly awaiting the long anticipated consecration of the new cathedral. Those at the back of the crowd can see practically nothing over the ranks of merrymakers amassed between them and the stage where the distant figure of Father Zantus is preparing to begin the ritual. Several enterprising fellows have clambered up the buildings overlooking the square, so as to get a better view of the proceedings from the gently sloping rooftops. The wagon from which the butterflies were released earlier that day is being hauled away by a group of hooded acolytes.
A sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, slices through the excited crowd as the sun’s setting rays paint the western sky. A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake, and the buzz of two dozen conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus has taken the stage. He clears his throat, takes a breath to speak, and suddenly a woman’s scream slices through the air. A few moments later, another scream rises, then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises—high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human. The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pools around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
Goblins chew and goblins bite.
Goblins cut and goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!
Goblins race and goblins jump.
Goblins slash and goblins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!
Chase the baby, catch the pup.
Bonk the head to shut it up.
Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed,
We be goblins! You be food!
Serax looks on wide-eyed at the dead dog. Goblins here!?!? Inside the town. That's wonderful! What an opportunity to use my awesome, amazing, death dealing magic. I'll be a hero for sure.
Serax hurls a ball of Magic Ice at the closet Goblin.
Cast Offensive Strike (Skill 69) = . If hits = 1D +1D =
Die Foul Goblin by the hand of Serax The Great!!
Dex to dodge (50%/2 as attack is ranged):
The goblin trips over the corpse of the dog slain by its companion and falls over, the ball of magical ice passing over its fat, melon-shaped head. The wretched creature picks himself up a moment later and carries on, completely oblivious to how close he came to an icy doom.
The gnome, springs back to her feet, eyes unfocused as the commotion erupts. Seeing the goblins, she shrieks in panic before pulling out her far too large crossbow and taking a shot at the nearest green monster.
The drinker gnome's wobbly aim, managed to sink a perfect shot
x2 = 20 damage to the goblin.
Albinus swoops down from above to protect his gnome companion:
but his fearsome dive is off the mark.
More by luck than sound judgement, your errant crossbolt richochets off a saucepan dangling from the stall of a travelling tinker and hits the goblin in the back of its filthy neck. The creature coughs up a mouthful of black blood while struggling to claw the offending shaft out of its flesh, before collapsing facedown in the dirt.
There are still two goblins standing in your immediate vicinity, the one that Serax has already attacked and a second that has clambered onto the back of an old woman and is whipping her wrinkly backside with a large wooden spoon.
Serax looks completely stunned as first the little blond (or blue) haired Gnome banks a shot off a saucepan to drop one of the Goblins and then his brilliantly cast Magic Snowball misses a Goblin when it trips and falls over a dog.
So little Goblin, you didn't like ice...how about an oldie but goody...Magic Missiles time!!! For safety sake I'll hit him twice
Cast Offensive Strike 1 (Skill 69) Form of magical missiles: 1D100 =
If first missile hits: 2D10 damage=
Cast Offensive Stike 2: 1D100 + 20 =
If second missile hits =
Thorgrund tenses at the first screams. Torag's beard, what in the Nine Hells is going on? he thinks to himself as he readies his shield and battleaxe.
The gnomes shriek distracts him, but only for a moment. He watches briefly as the crossbow bolt she fires ricochets off a hanging pan into the throat of a hapless goblin.
Turning at another screech, he sees an elderly woman struggling with a goblin, which is smacking her with a spoon.This sends Thorgrund into a rage. He moves to the pair, growling "Get off her, you damned monkey!" Timing his swing to ensure the safety of the woman, he attempts to knock the goblin off the woman.
Mesmerized by the display of lights from the flying magic spells, the inebriated gnome focuses her next shot on the goblin that has somehow eluded the ice spells.
The bolt soars through the air on target against all odds as crossbow dances about like a baton for a crazed conductor.
The mighty falcon locks onto the new target, and dives once more, claws and beak at the ready:
Savagely rending at the goblin for
Serax stared at the obviously inebriated Gnome in wonder. Two shots and two kills including a bank shot. He walks up to the Gnome and goes to one knee so he can be at eye level with her.
Lady your skill with the bow is astounding. I've not seen its better from any of the Elf Warriors of Kyorin.
"I'm Natalie Neverfalter Nimblefoot. I build things" she proclaims proudly holding out a bronze sprocket as an officer of the law would hold out a badge.
"And that is Albinus... But I don't know where his friends came from..." the gnome adds pointing at the large falcon and his three apparent counterparts who are only visible to her.
Despite your own heroic efforts at pest control, the town of Sandpoint is clearly overrun with goblins! The town's militia - inexperienced and outnumbered - are fighting back under the command of Sheriff Hemlock. Noticing your prowess in battle, the muscular constable makes his way over to you.
"I don't know who you people are, but Sandpoint needs your help! If you're ready to fight for the town, I'm prepared to temporarily assign you deputy status. I saw a group of goblins heading for the White Hart Inn, carrying torches, if they set the tavern on fire, it's only a matter of time before the whole town goes up in flames!"
Natalie stares wide eyed at the man and pokes his muscular arms as he is speaking to them.
"You... You are like a tree made of human...." after a long moment of silence punctuated by a few hiccups, she perks up anew declaring, "My elf assistant and I will take the case! ....we do get badges, right? I always wanted a badge..."
The bit about a burning tavern captures Thorgrunds attention.
"Well...we can't very well let that happen now, can we? Just point the way..." he says, adjusting the grip on his axe.
"If you do your bit to save the the town, I'll see to it that you each get a medal!" Hemlock swears.
For a moment, it almost seems the Sheriff is considering chastising Natalie for her display of public drunkeness. With a clear effort of will, he manages to resist the urge and focus instead on the more immediate problem facing his town.
"Take that side street and the next left," he tells you, raising his arm to point to a narrow alley mouth across the square, "But be watchful. There are groups of goblins still running amok. Fortunately, they didn't have the sense to mount a coordinated attack, else my men and I would have been overwhelmed."
He pauses, squinting over the nearby rooftops, then curses as smoke begins to drift lazily into the sky.
"Damned goblins! You might still get the flames under control if you hurry! Go, go now!"
Dismissing you, the sheriff turns away and begins bellowing at his men to escort any civilians into the new cathedral until the goblin menace can be dealt with.
Elf assistant? ELF ASSISTANT!!! I think a lesson in manners is necessary for that Gnome. Hmmm, blue hair would seem to call for a water elemental. That would teach her!
Then the meaning of the rest of the conversation hit Serax. Oh joy, more goblins...a chance to be the hero. And two decoys to walk in front of me. Excellent
Turning towards the dwarf and Natalie "I am Serax the Acolyte. I have powerful spells at my disposal as well as my sword," Serax draws his longsword. "Ser Dwarf I suggest you take the lead, keep our inebriated friend close by and I will guard the rear. We should make haste to the White Hart Inn. I seriously doubt that humans will be up to defeating these wicked foes."
Turning towards the dwarf and Natalie "I am Serax the Acolyte. I have powerful spells at my disposal as well as my sword," Serax draws his longsword. "Ser Dwarf I suggest you take the lead, keep our inebriated friend close by and I will guard the rear. We should make haste to the White Hart Inn. I seriously doubt that humans will be up to defeating these wicked foes."
Thorgrund eyes the elf, sizing him up. "Thorgrund Bronnsson at your service. Let's go..."
He then turns to the gnome, smiling as he says "Alright, ya little pixie...stay close, and keep yer head down!"
He begins to trot down the alley, keeping an eye out for an ambush.
Logic Check (77) =
The alley that Sheriff Hemlock directed you to slopes gently upward, for the town of Sandpoint is built on the rising bluffs overlooking the Varisian Gulf. Ahead of you, a wagon laden with firewood for the evening's bonfire rolls into view over the crest of the cobbled hill. Several goblins are making a cooperative effort to get it rolling towards you. Another goblin - brandishing a flaming brand - is dancing wildly atop the pile of dry lumber. As the cart picks up speed, he falls backwards and inadvertently ignites the firewood. The flaming cart races towards you, careening off the walls to either side of the narrow back street.
Runaway Cart Damage:
Natalie saw one of the released butterflies pass by and was immediately mesmerised by its fluttering. The out of control cart barreled through the non-attentive gnome dealing 11 damage (BP currently at 18).
”Ware the cart!" Serax shouts as he throws himself towards a doorway in the alley.
Unfortunately for Serax, throwing himself towards the doorway did not work as he immediately tripped over the inebriated, inattentive Gnome which resulted in him also being run over by the out of control cart. (BP 31-11=20)
"OUCH!!!"
Thorgrund sees the flaming cart, just a few seconds late.
The flaming wagon continues to rumble down the hill, bursting out of the alley mouth and colliding with the tent of a foreign merchant specializing in exotic fireworks. Moments after the garish canvas catches fire, the town square is ablaze with brightly colored rockets!
Picking yourselves up, you notice that the other goblins appear to be more interested in gawping at the pyrotechnics than kicking you guys while you're down. Following Sheriff Hemlock's directions, you soon spot the White Hart Inn a ways down the next main thoroughfare. The building is already aflame and smoke pours from the upper story windows. In the street outside the burning tavern, a group of five goblins torment a young nobleman. One goblin is mounted upon a mangy looking hound and seems to be wearing a saucepan on his head. This one looks a little bigger and meaner than the other goblins you have crossed paths with today....
Jumping back to her feet and seeing the giant horrifying goblin, Natalie remembers the promise of a medal (and hopefully a badge).
With astonishing drunken aim, the bolt flies true in the direction of the goblin commando dealing if the commando is unable to dodge.
Albinus swoops in with claws bared on the Goblin's dog hoping to score some fresh dinner:
Following up with a fierce beak attack, Albinus continues his assault on the dog:
But the second doesn't hit its mark.