Sandpoint. The pleasant little town that was the favorite last stop for several traders before Riddleport. Through small and lonely on the lost coast, Sandpoint rarely suffered any of the hardships faced by the smaller settlements in other areas. It was young, by most standards. Not even a half-century had passed since its founding, but it had gathered a reputation as the place to get class.
That seemed to change one night five years ago.
The wife of one of the nobles in town was found dead, her body smashed on the rocky shore at he bottom of the cliff their home overlooked. A murderer went mad and slew twenty-five of the town's people, including the previous sheriff, before he was found to be a simple woodcarver named Stoot. The final blow was the conflagration that claimed the resident priest, his daughter, and the church before it was put out. The Late Unpleasantness it was called. As one of the more gruff residents said, it was a polite way of saying the town may have been cursed.
That was five years ago, during a long, cold, and gloomy winter. Today was the day before the Swallowtail Festival. Brilliant streamers created a riotous canopy of color above and the smells of cooks preparing treats and meals for tomorrow would fill the air well into the next night. Children played, parents laughed, couples embraced, and guests were greeted like old friends that lived only a few minutes down the street. Even Sheriff Hemlock seemed ready to let a smile lighten his face.
This was not just any Swallowtail Festival either. It is not everyday that a new cathedral to not one, but six of the gods was dedicated, and dignitaries came from Magnimar, Korvosa, and even Absolom if the rumors about a Pathfinder attending were true. Representatives of the faiths of Abadar, Desna, Erastil, Gozreh, Sarenrae, Shelyn, and a few others mill about the market square. The inns are packed and tents crowd anywhere there's room. Passionate dances and powerful music awe the crowds as playful hints earn the ire of wife and husband alike. The air is cool, though it lacks the crispness of the coming autumn. The sun is bright overhead, and the sky is a deep, brilliant blue unmarred by clouds nor rain.
Nualia, the adopted daughter of the last Desnan priest that was burned along with him, was heaven-touched. She had been found pregnant barely a year before the fire, and seemed to have died in a coma that came about after a miscarriage. The child, however, was said to not be a lost son of heaven, but a demon from the abyss.
The other bit dealt with Lonjiku Kaijitsu's wife, or rather her death. Some around town never believed the story that she fell off the back porch of their home to her doom, but nothing was ever proven to the contrary. At any rate, it seems that the gruff old man would be maintaining his traditional absence from the festivities.
Despite performing in the few taverns in Sandpoint, on the streets, a the Pixie's Kitten, and even the Sandpoint Theater run by Cyrdak Drokkus, it's the Rusty Dragon that draws the most coin. The inn is not as nice as the White Deer Inn on the north side of town, but it has a charm that is lacking in the cleaner establishment. You've even found that Ameiko Kaijitsu is just as flirtatious as you, and to date has managed to weasel her way out just short of giving you a kiss. You've learned to steer clear of Shayliss Vinder, the younger daughter of the mountainous grocery Ven Vinder, the rumors of his temper and Shayliss' shamelessness make for a combination that's bound to cause trouble.
Still, it's hard to ignore Varisian girls dancing into the night, their skin glistening in the torchlight as their bodies become moving sculpture. It's even harder to ignore the come hither looks, and several guards give in and traipse off to a night of sleepless passion.
Glinter, though, wouldn't be happy. Then again, Glinter was never happy. A man comes up to the tent asking to see him, despite any suspicious you have, Glinter comes out and welcomes the man warmly, which struck you as odd. No more odd than the fact that you had seen the man talk to the small girl who could tackle mountains, however. Something seemed to be slimy about him, despite looking cleaner than most of the caravan had been in weeks. He left soon after arriving, leaving Glinter sweating and more agitated than you'd seen him since you started working for him.
The night was long, and the day before the festival looked to be even longer. Fortunately, you had just been given the day off. Unfortunately, Glinter just paid you half of what he owed and told you to skedaddle.
That night passed slowly as his words hung in the air. The next morning, however, brought tidings of some of the scholars that had chosen Sandpoint as their home, and the place to meet at least some of them, the Curious Goblin.
You find that the White Deer Inn has some vacant rooms, but the owner of the place seemed to be ratcheting up the prices in response to the Rusty Dragon being full. Most of the taverns would only let you sleep if you in their common room if you passed out drunk after paying, which didn't sound much cheaper. So begins the search for someplace to sleep for the night. It's only early in the morning, but the odds of success don't seem like good ones.
Despite the idyllic qualities of the town, Sandpoint proved to have a minor crime issue. Though their name is rarely spoken aloud, the Sczarni have a foothold here, like in most of Varisia's settlements it seems form the rumors. For the most part, though, it seems that the Sheriff has managed to keep things under control.
"Nice to see that the sleeping beauty is awake." He says to a mocking chorus of laughter. Cold water stings the still fresh cut on your nose from last night's fight.
"You fought well, and I know you want out, but I have one more fight for you. Then your done. I promise." Somehow, even when trying to be sincere, his smile made just about everyone's skin crawl. "You will need to throw it, but it has to look like you got the shit beat out of you. I'm sure that's no problem for you. After all, I thought that bloke from last night would have fallen over before doing that to you."
He punctuates his sentence with a sharp jab at the still tender bruise from the kidney shot from last night.
"But just to make sure. You win. I own you for the rest of your miserable life. Okay?"
Father Zantus is happy to see you once you find the temple. There are several acolytes and a few priests talking about the current state of affairs and catching up with old colleagues.
"Welcome Pavanna. I see that Quinta has done a fine job in raising you. Come tell us a little about yourself, and meet some of the others!"
Olivius can't believe it. He'd been fired. Fired! Noone had dared do that to him before. His Lord Father would have had their hide... no, wait, he would have had their hide if he cared about the person they fired. So really this was just an eventuality.
Olivius opens the leather pouch containing his last bit of pay and counts. Half. Half what he is owed. A dark mood clouds his mind. He is overcome with the need to train, to run, to DO something. All he manages to do, however, is wander the roads.
Somehow, he finds himself back by the docks. Why his feet led him to this gods-forsaken place he has no idea. There are less people here, but not few enough to practice. I can't stand it when people stare at me practicing.
He then remembers the mostly empty warehouse that the brawl was held in the night before. That should be relatively secluded...
Once inside, he carefully takes out his tattered spell book and component pouch. He carefully reads some crudely drawn arcane markings and some sketches of what might be hands preforming arcane passes. After a moment, he sits up, and tries to mimic the drawing.
Nothing happens. So he studies and tries again, and again, and again...
The beds at the Kitten are soft, and it takes Horatio several minutes to so much as open his eyes. When he does, it's only to groan. The curtains aren't quite closed properly, and one irritating ray of sunlight is searing his eyes. His head feels like he's been kicked at least twice. Blasted hangovers.
He finally manages to drag himself out of bed, looking around. The room is empty. Whoever he'd been with the night before is gone, then - and he assumes there had been another, as his clothes lie strewn about the room. He sets to gathering them and dressing himself, pausing to attempt to rub away the hangover more than once.
Shirt, vest, belt. Wonderful. Here were his boots; his pack he finds kicked under the bed, everything still in place. His violin had been set lovingly against a wall; his rapier, on the other hand, had been tossed into a corner. Figures. All seems to be in order, except...
"Blast," the young man mutters, scratching his head. It takes several more minutes of searching before he finds his pants, hanging half out the window. There's a story there, somewhere. Shame I can't remember it. Must have been a good night.
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He makes his way downstairs, attempting to tame his hair. Focused only on not falling over, he nearly stumbles right into Kaye, waiting at the bottom of the stairs with a cup of steaming tea. "Finally awake, I see?" she teases.
The bard sighs, shaking his head to clear it again. He takes the offered tea and sips it slowly. "Well, when one wakes up in such a comfortable bed, it's hard to leave it. I'd wager the beds are almost as soft and warm as the company." He winks. A second sip of tea reveals the bittersweet taste of alchemist's kindness, and he sighs with relief. "You're a darling, really."
"That kind of talk might work with my girls, but I'll have none of it." Kaye chuckles, and points Horatio to the door. "Go on. There's a lovely day out there. I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding something to do. Or someone."
Horatio winks, downs the rest of his tea, and heads out the door.
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The sun is warm on his back, and his pace gradually picks up as the hangover wears off. The twon square is filled with streamers and joy, and he can't help but smile as he walks through it. Not bad for such a small town, he thinks. It's no Korvosa, but is has its charms.
He makes his way to the town square, pausing for a moment to admire the cathedral. Quite an impressive building. The festival tomorrow should be a grand day for all. He finds a comfortable-looking wall mearby and leans against it, tuning his violin. "The best days always begin with a little music, after all," he murmurs to himself, before setting the instrument under his chin and beginning to play, a clear, bright tune that carries off into the sky.
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On this particular day, Victoria was a little better armed than her appearance might initially lead one to believe. She left her pack in her room, but below her robe was her longsword and wrist sheath containing her punching dagger. Her longbow and a quiver of twenty arrows along with her buckler, however, were clearly visible. She walked with her head down, going over the information she had overheard during her short stay at the White Deer Inn, intermittently reciting her tenets to herself.
The streets may have been full or empty, even the time of day or night was oblivious to her at this point. She wasn’t searching, she was thinking. She had a hunch that it was all related, but she wasn’t sure how. Surely a true paladin would have figured this out by now.
In her attempt to hide herself, she would have done little more than draw attention instead. Nonetheless, with all of the extra religious presence in town, the commoners surely wouldn’t be worried. A fact Victoria may have considered earlier, but was too caught up in her own thoughts to consider now. Her aimless wandering takes her to the buildings surrounding the docks. Deciding that the noises of the ocean was good for her, she limited her pacing to this area.
Pavanna smiles at Father Zantus and bows slightly, doffing her hat in respect to a senior clergyman as she’s been taught. She knows what this reveals, hears the hisses and murmurs from some of those around her, feels their suspicious stares... but she lets none of them bother her. Let people will think what they want of her; she is who she is, and she’ll show them who she is in the course of affairs, and they’ll either change their minds or they won’t.
“And a pleasant day to you, Father Zantus!” she says, then chuckles ruefully, rubbing the base of one horn where the hat chafed it a little. “I should hope Mother did well; I certainly made her work hard enough!”
After a moment, she settles down a little. “She sends her regrets that she can’t be here herself, but I’m sure you know that her presence might have been... awkward. Nonetheless, I’m so glad that she sent me in her place! I’ve heard so much about this town, and Brodert Quink’s studies of the Old Light, and his theories and his library of scrolls and historical volumes about Thassilon and its society and its magic and am I the single dullest person alive?” she moans. “I’m sorry, Father, I don’t mean to babble like that, but I’m just so fascinated by this land’s history.” After all, that history exists to be uncovered as what it is, instead of being rewritten to what the House of Thrune wants it to be every couple of years!
Zantus laughs gently. “Never apologise for being eager to see the world, dear woman. Desna smiles on all who travel and explore.”
“You’re too kind, Father,” Pavanna smiles. That smile flickers a little as a couple of the acolytes pointedly find other places to be; she’s not really surprised, but there is a little disappointment. “However, it seems that while you’d like me to meet your colleagues, some of them aren’t inclined to meet me just yet.”
The priest grimaces. “The Late Unpleasantness left scars on the hearts of almost all Sandpoint’s residents, Pavanna, some deeper than others. Kostin, the elder of those lads? I believe he was a little in love with Nualia Tobyn when she died. My predecessor’s daughter was an aasimar, and to see a ‘fiend-touched’ like a tiefling stand in this cathedral, built over the ashes of her grave, she who had clearly been touched by angels....”
“— I desecrate her memory merely by standing here,” Pavanna sighs. “Perhaps I should stay away until the ceremony. It would ease his mind, and I certainly wouldn’t mind more time to spend in the learned Quink’s library —”
“The dedication ceremony is meant to heal such old wounds, and Kostin needs to embrace that,” Zantus says firmly. “I’ll counsel him on the matter — and on treating others according to their actions, not their blood.” He chuckles. “But still, perhaps I should let you go, after all. If I don’t let you get at least a glimpse of that library, you’ll be too distracted to do your part at the ceremony without fidgeting! But please, meet me for lunch — I owe it to your mother to be sure you remember to eat during your studies!”
Pavanna laughs. “When you put the invitation like that, how could I refuse? Where?”
“Risa’s Place — just across the street from the cathedral’s southern end.”
“Then I’ll see you there.”
As she comes out of the cathedral, Pavanna is struck by the sound of violin music from across the square. The player is a Chelaxian man about her own age, tall, pretty in a way that knows it, dressed flatteringly though not richly. Well, the Learned Quink will still be there at the end of the song.... She shrugs to herself, then stops to listen, cocking her head.
While she’s no musician herself, she can tell well-practiced skill when she hears it, and while the tune itself is bright and cheerful, there’s something else to the performance that catches her ear. The fellow plays with passion, and perhaps a little self-importance, but there’s an undertone that almost sounds like... loss.
When the song ends, Pavanna applauds politely. “Nicely played, fellow! I’ve heard better in my days, but not many.”
dot will post later (at work)
Horatio's eyes are closed as he plays - a habit he's never quite been able to break completely. As he nears the end of the piece, he looks around the square, suddenly surprised to see a young, olive-skinned woman standing not too far away. His expression quickly shifts to a smile, and he finishes the piece with a flourish which turns into a quick, deep bow. He straights, the smile firmly set in place now.
"Many thanks indeed, my lady. I doubt you'll hear better in this town, though there are yet contemporaries who surpass me elsewhere." He shifts his bow to his left hand, clutching it alongside the neck of his violin; the right hand, he extends to the newcomer. "Horatio Aldebrandt, at your service. And you are? I must say, there aren't many as striking as yourself in a small town like this."
Oh, my: this one’s almost as charming as he thinks he is, Pavanna muses, shaking the offered hand with a cheery smile. “Pavanna Alazario, a scholar from Magnimar. I only arrived this very morning, but I suspect you haven’t lacked for company in my absence.”
As she releases his hand, a thought occurs to her, and she smacks herself for her foolishness. I should’ve come earlier than this! Dammit, it’s always the details that get me! “I’ve made a ‘small’ error, Horatio: I’m on my way to speak with Brodert Quink, but I need somewhere to leave my things while I do. Do you know if there’s an inn or boarding-house left in town that has a room to rent for a few days which won’t cost me a fortune?” If he says ‘You could always share my room’, I’ll smack him on general principles.
(At work. Will post later)
"Well, the Rusty Dragon has good food and good company, with the added advantage that I've been performing there quite a bit lately. Though, Ameiko did mention that they were full... There's always the White Deer, though the prices seem to have gone up. You'd almost be better off paying for a night at the Pixie's Kitten." He chuckles a little, then resumes pondering. "I'm afraid they seem to be your only options. Of course, an entertainer can usually find a room for himself, and I'd be happy to share, but that seems a little too forward, so I won't suggest it." A playful twitch crosses his smile, and his free hand flicks his hair from his face. He speaks in an animated fashion, as if unable to turn off his performance.
"If you'd like, I can walk you around town? I can show you the White Deer, and you can decide for yourself if it's the kind of establishment you'd prefer." He extends an arm, the very picture of a gentleman, one eyebrow raised to puntuate his question.
“That’s a kind offer, Horatio, and one gladly accepted,” Pavanna smiles — then winks. “But please, put your arm down, before someone mistakes you for a lop-sided chicken.”
Horatio blinks in surprise, but lowers his arm. Very well. If that's the game she wants to play, then so be it. He clears his throat and gestures north. "Just up Church Street, then," he says with a smile, leading the way. "Not too far at all, which is convenient enough. You really can't miss the namesake of the place." He gestures to the carved white deer at the entrace. "Lovely place. The crowd doesn't seem to appreciate music quite so much as the Dragon, though. A bit too stuffy for my liking. But the rooms are nice enough. Large enough for two or three, so if you came with a friend, I'd suggest sharing one." He spins to face her. "Or did you come to Sandpoint alone?" he inquires, one eyebrow raised again.
“I made some friends amongst the caravan on the road up from Magnimar, but I’ve yet to run into any of them in Sandpoint itself,” Pavanna admits. “I fear the Temple of Iomedae has too many duties and too few ordained clergy to fulfill them all, so the only representative they could spare to attend the cathedral’s consecration was the simple scholar you see before you.” Quite apart from the... complications that might arise from Mother making herself too visible.
As they reach the White Deer, Pavanna slips through the door ahead of her guide, then approaches the desk. “Excuse me, good sir: I was hoping I might find a room for the next four or five nights. Do you have any openings?”
The inn-keeper, a robust Shoanti man, gives her a narrow-eyed look. “You’ve left it late enough. I have a room or two open, but one of them will cost thirty silver shields a night.”
Pavanna manages not to swallow her tongue at that price. It’s rather more than she expected... but on the other hand, it’s not as bad as she might have feared. Even with the town filling up for the Festival tomorrow, that sour manner of his must drive off a good portion of his business. “Very well, then: let’s call it four nights, for the moment.”
As the innkeeper gets her key, Pavanna turns back to Horatio with another bright smile. “I’ll be back down in a few moments, Horatio.”
Horatio barely manages to contain a scowl at the quoted price. Thirty silver for one night! How could anyone dream of charging such an exorbitant sum to such a lovely creature, anyway...
As Pavanna heads upstairs, Horatio watches for a few moments, surreptitiously enjoying the view, then turns to the innkeeper, rummaging in his belt-pouch. Plenty of coin from the last few night's performances, at least. "Allow me to cover the lady's accomodation for the night. It must be hard on her, short on coin and in a strange town." He places three gold coins on the counter and steps back, pretending to not have moved at all. He begins whistling, a jauntier version of the tune he'd been playing in the square.
I thoroughly enjoy my time at Sandpoint and the Blue Stones. I intend to acquaint myself with the lands of Varisia more. "The lands of my father. A most interesting place indeed. I think this festival will be good way to immerse myself."
I happily help Syble around the Stones and offer her up advice on improvements on the place. When we spar I comment on her fighting style. "You move well but you need to watch your balance better or the enemy could take advantage." I comment even if I were getting my butt kicked. If she were to comment on my style I simply nod and agree with a smile. "Yes you are correct. My grip is sloppy and could use some work and indeed I could move faster. I hope to improve more in my travels. "
I continue my hobby of woodcarving on the side. This day inparticular I head out to the town to see how the preparations are coming.
Noro winces a bit at the poke. her reflex to throw a punch his way stops short knowing her postion. but still Jubrayl blinks. Noro could still lay him flat with a single punch, he never was a brawler.
Yet at the same time Noro also knows the concequences of such an action. And that is enough to stay her hand, its an uneasy partnership the two share. Noro wants out but still Jubrayl knows she makes him money. also the extra muscle at the Feedbag is a nice boon to him as well.
Noro climbs out of bed still in the bloody clothes from the night before.
she grabs a a mug and pours some whiskey. noticing the bottle now empty, barly a mouthful remained. she slams the bottle down and turns to Jubrayl, Well, you know give the crowd shome shuspence, increashes the profit margin. after a pause, One more fight, jusht like lasht time, and the time before that, your liesh are getting old. She hands Jubrayl the mug, he waves his hand indicating he wants none of her moonshine. Noro shrugs and and chugs it herself.
who am I fighting? and why throw the fight. You know I don't do that she asks. and when. I have shome bushiness to take care of today.
Olivius tries to cast again and again for what seems like hours, though it was probably only minutes. His mind feels like its coming apart, and a lump in his throat has begun to choke him. He tries again, whispering Prestidigitation. Nothing. Again he tries, but his hand catches on his chain mail. Finally he stands and shouts Prestidigitation! in frustration, his hands moving as best they can.
Nothing.
Why are my eyes wet?. He furiously wipes his quilted sleeve across his face and snatches his book and pouch from the ground. He storms from the warehouse, nearly bowling over someone in white robes with a bow. He doesn't stop or apologize.
He heads straight down the pier, driving dock workers and ship crews before him without saying a word. They all scramble out of the heavily armed fighter's way. At the end he makes to throw his book and pouch into the ocean, but his arm gets stuck before he can follow through. He tries again, and again his arm sticks.
Finally, he decides to just stand there. His mind swirls and twists. Maybe his father was right. He can't even hold down a job as a caravan guard, how can he hope to master the Arcane Arts? Worthlessness washes over him like a tide.
during your stay so far I am sure you have made moves toward Amieko. acouple of times when you thougt you were making headway (as indicated by the sudden free meal) that same meal would always be a some special Tien dish not normally on the menu and the first time was so hot you couldn't get to water fast enough. you thought you heard chuckling from the kitchen when this happened. other times there always seemed to be some sudden incident that would call Amieko's attention from you and back to the kitchen.
let me know if you persue any of this at all
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Walking past some of the warehouses close to the docks, Victoria couldn’t help but to overhear a frustrated voice coming from inside one of the warehouses. Deciding to investigate, she walked further toward the sound, but she was unable to pinpoint the exact warehouse from which the voice was originating. It didn’t help that, as soon as she had it narrowed down to a couple of warehouses, the chanting became silent. Then, suddenly, a rather upset looking man erupted from one very much near her.
The man clearly had too much on his mind to even notice her. He was much larger than her, which wasn’t honestly saying very much, and plowed right through her without paying much notice. She was easily quick enough to stay on her feet, but the man’s chanting followed immediately by odd silence and anger aroused suspicion in her. Allowing him to get a solid 20 or 30 feet ahead of her as he stormed toward the docks, she decided to tail him, hopefully without being spotted.
Upon arriving shortly afterward at the docks, he tried desperately to throw a book into the ocean, stopped not by magic but by what appeared to be himself. Victoria did find this odd. The man spoke not a word. Detecting evil on the man revealed that he wasn’t inherently evil, nor did he have malicious intent. Still, she was curious.
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"Did ya spill glue on your hand? It looked like you're about to send that book for a swim."
The man is board in the chest, messy black hair swirls in the breeze, and dark eyes seem to bore into yours. A candy stick hangs from his mouth, and another is being offered in his hand while more stick out from a bag in his other hand.
"I think Miss Kaijitsu said these were made with cinnamon. Try it, I bet it'll help."
"Before just now, I thought you were faking being a dumbass. Who, isn't important. Why, well, let me spell it out. You don't throw this fight, then you become my personal little slave. I make your life hell and you do as I say until you wind up face down in a gutter."
The Varisian's face contorts even more as a twisted smile crosses his face.
"And let's not forget, you agreed to work for me. You were the one that joined our family."
He leans in close, far too close.
"And I seem to recall that your own family didn't want you anymore. Isn't that right, love."
He cackles as he backs away.
"Show up at the usual place just after sundown. That is, if you really want out."
He continues to chuckle to himself as he turns to leave.
Garridan seems torn between shock and anger, and settles on grinding his teeth as he stares wide-eyed at the three coins on the bar. Finally he grunts and sweeps the coins into the pouch at his belt.
"Fine by me." in a voice that sounded anything but. "Oi girly," he calls out as Pavanna comes down the stairs, "This bloke's coverin' ya for a night. I'll let ya have meals fer free or ya can take these back."
He places three stacks of silver on the bar, though his hand does hesitate a moment.
Horatio sighs, rubing his temples with his fingers. "Well, my good man, you've gone and done it now. You could have simply given her that fifth night for free, or made a sure a few extra drinks found her, but no, you've had to call me out in the most obvious way possible. See, that's the problem with a place like this; nobody values discretion! You'd never catch this kind of boorish behaviour back in Korvosa, I'll tell you that..." He looks like he could rant for ages, but manages to catch himself just in time. He settles for muttering angrily instead, avoiding eye contact with Garridan and Pavanna alike. A slight flush of embarassment takes his cheeks. You try to be a gentleman, and now you look like some common lecher...
"Then why don't ya just go back to your precious Korvosa then you spoony bard!"
Garridan was visibly angry now. So much so he practically throws the silver coins at Pavanna.
"Take 'em! Take 'em and just go!"
Thirzin smirks. "Just my luck. Came into town on some giant, wild festival." This comment was directed to no one in particular as he heads toward The Dragon. At the very least, the dwarf could get a decent pint. He sighs, squeezing through the crowds. " 'Cuse me! Comin through! Short man here and you're in the way."
Initially the ranger was nice and pleasant, but eventually it was like any festival: shoving drunken idiots out of the way. Once he finds his way into the Rusty Dragon, he sidles up to the bar. Knowing the world is not a safe place, he has carried both his weapons and worn his armor.
"What beers do ya have?" the bearded man yells loudly, trying to catch the barkeep's attention over the sounds.
Horatio turns on his heel dramatically and exits the inn. "Would that I could, my good man," he mutters under his breath. Outside, he pauses and heaves a deep sigh of regret, staring back down the street, towards the cathedral. "Would that I could..."
Mortified by the scene, much less being its cause, Pavanna accepts the refund from Garridan, then hurries out the door after Horatio.
Catching up to him outside, she touches his arm gently, still blushing and a little humiliated. “Erm... thank you for that, Horatio. However it turned out, I know you meant well.” I may have been too hasty in judging his intentions....
Noro's fist clench tighter but she holds her anger and her tongue. but it takes all she has right now. she knows he is right.
fine...I'll be there She looks down knowing he has the upper hand...again.
I believe, you know the way out
Once he leaves and has gone a bit further away, she grabs the empty whiskey bottle and hurls it out the window screaming in anger. then lays on the bed for a while He better be telling the truth this time. I grow tired of his lies. but Damn him, what am I to do?
she rolls over still contemplating her options.
maybe the festival, maybe...ahhh Hell who am I kidding, everyone here knows I am nothin but trouble, "look at her, she to dumb to have a husband, she can't talk right" she says the last part in a mocking voice.
I move to head down to the docks. I see the whisky bottle shatters practically at my feet. I look up curiously. I pick up a piece of the bottle and walk inside. "Hello in here. Someone went and dropped something. I have come to return it to them. Is anyone here?" I begin to look about the Feedbag and the best way to get upstairs if no one is present.
I move to head down to the docks. I see the whisky bottle shatters practically at my feet. I look up curiously. I pick up a piece of the bottle and walk inside. "Hello in here. Someone went and dropped something. I have come to return it to them. Is anyone here?" I begin to look about the Feedbag and the best way to get upstairs if no one is present.
when Noro hears a voice. at first recognition is far from her mind.
I got it Jubrayl!, I shaid I'd be there, then I will, sho just get the frick away! comes a woman's voice with a lisp from inside the shoddy apartment.
the door is slightly open. but nobody comes to the door.
Horatio turns to Pavanna, a smile quickly replacing his expression of deep sorrow - quickly enough for her not to notice, he hopes. "No matter, my lady. The best intentions can often go astray. And that could have gone worse, I suppose. As it is, nobody was hurt, though my pride does sting a little."
He seems to brighten a little as he chuckles. "'Spoony bard'... that's the oldest line in the book. Come, I'll show you around town. When had you arranged to meet Quink?"
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Very shortly after detecting evil on the strange fighter, Victoria was startled by the sound of a bottle smashing against the street very close to where she was. Spinning around to pay attention to the sound, she missed what was said to the fighter, only knew that something was said to him. Suddenly she cared very little. She was becoming flustered. She felt like there was something she was looking for and all of this was getting a little overwhelming. This was the city, but it was as if she didn’t know it. She was raised in a monastery and a citadel, all of this noise and violence was foreign to her. And to make it all worse, the bustle of the people preparing for the festival made Victoria that much more aware.
Giving up her position with the fighter, she ran to where the bottle at smashed, finding it in pieces on the cobblestone. After a brief moment, she heard someone from which within the building that the bottle most likely originated.
”maybe the festival, maybe...ahhh Hell who am I kidding, everyone here knows I am nothin but trouble, ‘look at her, she to dumb to have a husband, she can't talk right’"
Victoria looked at the bottle on the sidewalk, then back toward the building. Her tenets… Tenet IV: The Tenet of Empathy; Never allow yourself to judge another poorly based on anything but their actions. Judging a person poorly based on anything else is a form of tyranny and is an evil act.
“For whatever it’s worth, miss, I don’t believe that’s true.”
A young woman, almost a girl really, nods your way as she hurriedly readies and serves up a fist full of tankards brimming with frothy ales. After taking payment, there seems to be a lull in the storm, and Thirzin gets a good look at her. She's obviously not from around here. Her skin is the tan of someone who spent a good deal of time in the sun, and her bare shoulders showed toned, lean muscles. Her hair fell in a mess of white and black, framing a face that held eyes that had a mischievous gleam.
"Well my good dwarf, Here at the Dragon, there's the local brews, stouts from Janderhoff, ales and beers from the Two Knights Brewery, and smattering of things form Magnimar. Mead if ya'd like something sweeter, and whiskey if you want something stronger. But you look like an adventurous soul to me, so I think ya'd like to try some Dragon's Breath."
I move to head down to the docks. I see the whisky bottle shatters practically at my feet. I look up curiously. I pick up a piece of the bottle and walk inside. "Hello in here. Someone went and dropped something. I have come to return it to them. Is anyone here?" I begin to look about the Feedbag and the best way to get upstairs if no one is present.
when Noro hears a voice. at first recognition is far from her mind.
I got it Jubrayl!, I shaid I'd be there, then I will, sho just get the frick away! comes a woman's voice with a lisp from inside the shoddy apartment.
the door is slightly open. but nobody comes to the door.
I head up to the room and call into the door. "Hello there. Is everything okay in there?"
"Dragon's Breath, huh? Sounds like you'd tell me, if I was one of those hairless twig men, that it'd put hair on my chest, deepen my voice, and let me conquer the world. So, what makes ya suggest it to me?" He appraises what the woman is saying, and it goes without saying he appraises the woman.
He chuckles. "You haven't been trying it yourself, have ya? Cause dragon fire would be the only explanation I can imagine you'd have that tan in this town."
"HA! I knew I like the looks of ya for some reason." She says as she begins mixing a drink.
"As for hairless twig men, they wouldn't dare touch this drink. Packs a bit too much punch for them. If you can handle it in one gulp, then you can drink for the day on me."
She places a pint glass filled with a fiery looking liquid in it.
"And if that can give me a tan, imagine what it can do for an adventurer like you!"
First: DC 15, Success means that you aren't staggered as rum, whiskey, and a variety of spices burns your mouth and throat.
Second: DC 17, Success means you don't take a point of non-lethal damage as you begin to sweat from the spicy drink.
You can apply the bonuses from poison resistance if you have that racial trait.
He grins. "That sounds like a challenge, lass. Regardless, can't pass up something like this drink." He looks at the drink, raising it to the light. "Regardless, I'll have a warm belly all night. Now if only I could find a good place to stay, instead of passed out in front of one of the inn's fireplaces."
Raising the glass to her in salute, he grins and downs the brew in one gulp.
He smiles, feeling the potency of the liquor and mix of other ingredients. "That, lass is delicious." It is only moments later that the sweat begins to run down between his bushy eyebrow. "Phew! Should call it dragon's death for the end of it. I've held hot pokers cooler than that. But damn it's nice."
Of course, trust the big sweaty dwarf to enjoy the burn, even if its eating his insides in a most painful way. Dwarves and their booze.
Saroune wandered the streets of Sandpoint with her head, as usual, tucked into a book. She tried to pay the distractions of the festival little mind, although she had a hard time keeping her eyes off of the talented Varisian dancers. Part of her longed to join them, to lose herself in the music. But she had a place to be.
She had heard rumors from other travelling scholars that the Curious Goblin was a hidden treasure trove of written works, tucked away in this tiny coastal town. She would love to get a chance to browse the selection and the promise of that many unique books was enough to pull her away from the music.
The walk was a short one, made long by the festivities. She had to dodge several stumbling revelers and even a squealing pig chased by several nearly nude children, but finally she was there: the Curious Goblin.
It was a quaint shop, with a hanging sign displaying a caricature of a goblin reading an upside down book nearly as tall as he. Saroune smiled slightly, snapped her book shut and tucked it away in her shoulder sling, and stepped through the front door, taking her time to scrape the fresh mud off of her boots.
Horatio turns to Pavanna, a smile quickly replacing his expression of deep sorrow - quickly enough for her not to notice, he hopes. "No matter, my lady. The best intentions can often go astray. And that could have gone worse, I suppose. As it is, nobody was hurt, though my pride does sting a little."
He seems to brighten a little as he chuckles. "'Spoony bard'... that's the oldest line in the book. Come, I'll show you around town. When had you arranged to meet Quink?"
He doesn’t know that I heard him, Pavanna realises. I won’t pry — not yet. We’re too newly acquainted for such things.
And it may be the oldest one in the book, but I’ve never understood it, myself. Perhaps once I’ve unlocked all the secrets of Thassilon, I can chase down the origins of that odd phrase. “Oh, there was no particular time; it was my understanding that he’d welcome a fellow knowledge-seeker, if only because so few are willing to hear him out. Or does he only see people by appointment?” she wonders, a little crestfallen at the possibility. “Father Zantus has asked me to join him for lunch at Riva’s Place, if only because he and my mother know each other so well, but that’s a while off, yet. And in light of your generosity, I can afford to spend a morning exploring Sandpoint’s charms before I begin my studies.”
Mustering a smile, she crooks an arm to Horatio, much as he did to her. “Lead on, good sir. I just hope being seen with me doesn’t cost you your audience.”
"Well, if being seen with you did cost me my audience, it would mean they were more interested in me romantically than they were in my performance. Which would be flattering, but it would also mean all those years of practice were for naught, which is somewhat disheartening." He takes Pavanna's arm with a wink and leads her back toward's the cathedral, then down Tower Street, easily settling into the role of tour guide. "Sandpoint's a nice enough place, once you know your way around. Small towns tend to have a certain charm you don't find in larger cities. There's the armory, on your right, and if you continue north up Main Street, you'll reach Junker's Edge. Can't say I recommend it, though. The atmosphere's a little trashy." He chuckles a little, then grins. "Apologies for the puns. You'll find Quink just up the road there-" he points down Tower Street to an ancient-looking building - "but the best of Sandpoint is this way. I'll show you Main Street." He turns south, pausing to admire the banners and streamers adorning the street.
At first the man's comment doesnt register. When it finally clicks that he is being spoken to, he finally comprehends what was said. He doesn't respond. Too much vies for his attention to think about talk of glue.
When offered candy, he has come back from the brink by a step. Sometimes just having someone watch you, and knowing you're being watched, helps. He takes the stick and tries it. It's not bad. He once got something similar on his birthday when he was young. That one had been magically altered to taste of some kind of foreign berry. This one had the promised clearing effect almost immidiately.
He suddenly realized that he must have looked quite the fool charging from the warehouse like that.
Thanks for the... he holds up the candy, then tries to explain, but only manages a weak and entirely understated: Bad day.
"Well, if being seen with you did cost me my audience, it would mean they were more interested in me romantically than they were in my performance. Which would be flattering, but it would also mean all those years of practice were for naught, which is somewhat disheartening." He takes Pavanna's arm with a wink and leads her back toward's the cathedral, then down Tower Street, easily settling into the role of tour guide. "Sandpoint's a nice enough place, once you know your way around. Small towns tend to have a certain charm you don't find in larger cities. There's the armory, on your right, and if you continue north up Main Street, you'll reach Junker's Edge. Can't say I recommend it, though. The atmosphere's a little trashy." He chuckles a little, then grins. "Apologies for the puns. You'll find Quink just up the road there-" he points down Tower Street to an ancient-looking building - "but the best of Sandpoint is this way. I'll show you Main Street." He turns south, pausing to admire the banners and streamers adorning the street.
“I’m more concerned that they’ll despise you for being near me, and what I am,” Pavanna sighs. She can feel suspicious eyes tracking her as they go. “I’m sure that the Father’s acolytes have spoken to their cronies by now, and that means everyone this side of the Turandarok knows a tiefling woman is in town for the dedication. The way I understand it, only lightning travels faster than gossip in a town this size.”
“You’re right, though: Sandpoint does feel different to the other places I’ve lived. I grew up in Westcrown — though I didn’t get out of the Dorjanala too often, I must admit — and it is simply obsessed with its past glories. Mostly trying to hold onto them by its fingernails, but occasionally trying to erase them with a mailed fist by orders from the Thrice-Damned Throne. Between the monuments and the Irespan and all the other relics, Magnimar lives amidst its past, but it’s not trapped by it; it’s more vital, younger, less rigid... but everyone’s just so damned busy. Compared to those cities, Sandpoint’s... it’s recently had a tragedy, and it lives amongst the remnants of history, but it doesn’t seem have a lot of its own history. It just seems so... homey and quiet, compared to those cities.”
She glances to one side, quickly surveying the Sandpoint Garrison with a trained eye. Well, the building itself looks sturdy enough for a small-town barracks and watch-house, but Mother would have sharp words for any of her acolytes who turned out for duty looking as sloppy as that guard in the door. Inheritor protect us, I think there’s actual rust on his hauberk! (The whiplash between those two thoughts never occurs to her. Small and quiet town or not, wearing a uniform requires respect for everything it stands for, so there’s no excuse for looking rumpled or slovenly on duty.)
"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it. There'll be plenty more for them to talk about come tomorrow - the games, the cathedral, the food, the music... I'm sure nobody will pay any more attention to a woman who happens to have horns.
"Seems you've come quite a way, then. I haven't travelled much, myself. I came here from Korvosa a few weeks ago. There's Sandpoint Savouries, on your right; try the spinach pastries sometime, they're quite wonderful. Oh, and there's the Curious Goblin. If you ever look for Quink and he isn't home, that's likely where he'll be." He sighs deeply, trying not to reminisce. "It was hard, packing up my life and leaving it behind, if only temporarily. I do miss Korvosa. Her sights, her sounds... I miss seeing the Sable Company flying overhead, and I miss the lemchum vendors. I'm sure I'll go back someday, though, perhaps when my talents outgrow this place. Maybe." A sad expression comes across his face, and it takes him a few moments to shake it. "Anyway, there's the general store, the orphanage, and just up there, you can see the Hagfish. Best place for seafood, though I prefer the yarning, myself." He continues talking in the same animated manner, but the troubled expression hasn't quite left his face completely. Homey and quiet... that's exactly it. Good gods, I need to get out of here...
I hope you’re right, Horatio. I’d hate for the dedication to be spoiled by someone’s prejudices. Pavanna blushes a little. “I’m sorry, I’ve misspoken. Mother and I moved to Magnimar some years ago — I’d say you’ve come far further to be here today than I did. And I suspect Sandpoint may be the stepping-stone to your triumphant return to your ‘home’ in Korvosa, and soon; you don’t strike me as a man who lets setbacks daunt him very long.”
After a moment, she runs a comforting hand along her new friend’s forearm. “Or in time, somewhere else may become your home. I thought the Dorjanala was ‘home’, until Mother and I came to Magnimar, and I realised that ‘home’ was wherever she was. She likes to tell me that ‘home’ isn’t a place, it’s a feeling.”
Horatio twitches a little at Pavanna's touch, as if jerking out of a reverie. "I suppose you're right." He heads down to the docks, taking a seat on one of the piers. He sets his violin next to him, looking out over the harbor. "I left Korvosa to seek my fortune. I didn't have what it took for the stages there - apparently I was too arrogant, too hot-headed. I was told a smaller town, like Sandpoint, would probably be a better place to start. Of course, I only came here out of spite, determined to prove that I deserved better." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Gods, I'm such a fool. I may deserve better, but I'm torn between actually wanting better and just wanting to stay here. I mean, the Dragon draws good coin, and the people are nice... but at the same time, it simply isn't home." He begins absent-mindedly plucking at his violin strings with one hand, falling silent for a few moments. "I miss Korvosa. But I feel if I left Sandpoint today, I'd miss it just as much." He looks up at Pavanna. "Ah well, I can't sit here moping all day. Though I'd be perfectly happy to sit all day with such fine company as yourself." There's that smile again, slipping smoothly into position as if perfectly rehearsed.
I head up to the room and call into the door. "Hello there. Is everything okay in there?"
Catching her by surprise, not expecting anyone except for her landlord and employer.
who'sh there? If Jubrayl shent you, I already agreed sho you can just be off.
she opens the door and Akisame is greeted by a woman on blood stained clothes (pants and plain shirt). her hand holding her side like she has been recently injured and her nose appears to have been receently pummeled, her hands indicate someone that is accostomed to fighting with her hands.
Who the hellsh are you
I give Noro a smile. I hold up my hand in a gesture of peace. "Calm down. I am not associated with this Jubrayl. I am merely a wandering woodcarver whom has noticed your....frustration. My Name is Akisame Koetsuji." I hold up a piece of what's left of the bottle. "it is usually best to recycle these but I suspect you are under a good deal of stress. I see you are injured. If you'd like I can take a look at that. I have some skill at healing."
The pictures links are in my profile if you wish to know what your looking at.
a wandering healer? I don't have money to pay she opens the door inviting him in.
the room is rather spartan bare mimnimum as far as furnishings goes.
the only noteable thing that is definately out of place is a nice tea cerimony set with two cups. definately more valuable than most everything else combined.
can I get you shomething? I don't get vishitors, exshept those I owe coming to collect.
she pulls out a clay jug and grabs the cups from the tea set. she sets them down and pours a cup for herself but waits for him to answer before pouring his.
interehting name, your not from town? probably here for the feshtival then. Well if your looking for a plashe to shtay, thish room is taken, and this ain't no brothel. Name's Noro, Noro Ka... Jusht Noro
I enter the modest little room and smile at the tea set. "Ah a traditional tea set from the homeland. I am very grateful for your hospitality Noroku-san. You needn't worry about paying me anything. It is my gift in exchange for your gracious hospitality. " I sit down and accept the tea. "Quite good." I look as though I want to say more but hold my tongue. "I shouldn't comment on her technique or her method. Hold your tongue Koetsuji, hold it."
I set the cup down and move over next to Noro pulling out my healer's kit. "Now let's have a look at you." I start with her nose before moving to her kidney. I apply soothing pads to the areas and utilize some Tian medical massage therapy to ease the wounds.
Heal check + 1 use of the kit.
As I begin treating her I start up conversation. "So Noroku-san, I would guess that you also
hail from Tian-shu. Am I right to guess you also know martial arts? What style did you study?