Divine Rise of the Runelords

Game Master nate lange

The joy of new life brought on by spring has been broken by a series of shocking murders. Can the heroes of Sandpoint stop the culprit before he strikes again...


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map of Sandpoint | current map

Father Zantus is a firm man when he needs to be, though certainly not like Father Tobyn had been.

The new High Priest of Sandpoint didn't care much for comparisons to his former mentor but as the dedication quickly approached, and turned people's minds back toward the tragic loss that marked the closing of the old cathedral, it seemed unavoidable. Like most followers of the Starsong both men were dreamers with a great love for freedom. Father Tobyn was greatly loved by the people of Sandpoint, and his fellow priests and acolytes, but he was an idealist and when the people in his charge failed to live up to his ideals he could be very stern. Father Zantus is not nearly as severe but he had learned to apply firmness when needed. Often that meant when he was under stress.

There was plenty of firmness as the autumnal equinox approached. The Swallowtail Festival was always a stressful time around the church as preparations were made and gossip shared about how large the crowds might be. This year was far more stressful as construction projects drew to a close and additional preparations were made for extra speeches and even larger crowds. For the students and acolytes living on the Cathedral grounds this meant extra projects and eventually the cancellation of their normal classes so they could focus on cleaning, and practicing the readings and songs they would participate in at the dedication ceremony. Father Zantus was often grumpy and was constantly pointing out spots where the cleaning needed to be redone, but he was also very clearly excited about dedicating the new Cathedral after five long years of work.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the final days of preparations six special students, each chosen from birth by one of the six gods worshiped in the Catherdral, work hard under his guidance but still find occasional opportunities for some time to themselves...


Inactive

Salomae gazed down at the piece of paper on the table, her normally pleasant expression marred by a frown. A letter from Taliah, which had apparently arrived several days later than planned – it spoke of the Swallowtail Festival to happen next week but now the festival was only a day or two away. The noise drifting in from the open window was proof enough of that, the hustle and bustle of merchants setting up their stalls and the sound of metal striking metal as the stage to be used for the announcements and other activities began to take shape.

Figures that the post would be slow with the one thing it would’ve been nice to see last week instead of now, she sighs as she reads the letter again.

'Dear Sal,

How are you? I’m sorry that it’s been awhile since my last letter, but the boys keep me busy most days, especially now that they’re getting big enough to get themselves into trouble. One day they’ll decide to make breakfast and leave flour and broken eggs all over the floor and the next they think it’s a great idea to try painting the barn cats!

Things have been going well here, but I’m afraid that we won’t be able to attend the Swallowtail Festival next week like we’d planned; this year’s summer harvest turned out to be much better, and bigger, than any of us had expected and Evin said that he’d need everyone who could to pitch in to make sure we get it all collected and stored in time. I know you said in your last letter that you were looking forward to seeing us and I know the boys were looking forward to it too, but there’s just not enough time to spare this year. Maybe we can make the journey to see you for Crystalhue, or perhaps you could get leave to come home for a few days to visit? I know mother and father would like to see you and traveling in winter is getting harder for them each year. Think it over and let me know what you think, okay?
Looking forward to hearing from you soon!

Love,
Tali'

Sal sighed, disappointment evident on her face. It had been months since she’d seen her sister and her family and she had so been looking forward to having them in town for the upcoming festival. Of course she really knew that she should have expected as much; Taliah had her own family to care for now and responsibilities as a mother and a wife. There simply wouldn’t be time like there once was for her to come visit Sandpoint.

But even though it makes sense, that still doesn’t make it any less disappointing.

Heaving another small sigh, she pushed the paper away from her and rose from the table. Even though she knew her sister was already overdue for an answer, Sal just couldn’t muster up the energy or desire to put pen to paper just then.

Sorry Tali. I need to get out for a bit, but I promise I'll write a reply later tonight.

As she makes her way out of her small but cozy room, her flagging spirits are lifted somewhat by the sight of all the activity happening around her. Even her disappointment couldn't completely ruin how good it always was to see everyone in town working together towards a common goal.

So I guess I'm on my own for the festival, but maybe it won't be so bad. Perhaps I can catch Roakkad after the opening ceremonies, if I'm lucky. He usually doesn't let the excitement of the festival go to his head. Much.


HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

The western sun sets fire to the gulf, its reflection igniting the waters as the two elements converge. Together they form a dazzling display of light. As the sun kisses the horizon, their union is complete.

Roakkad closes his eyes, momentarily blinded. Colors swirl in the darkness--raging red-orange, placid blue, sorrowed gray. These are the colors of the Varisian plains, the mountains, the rivers, and, of course, the sky. He remembers his journey from Kaer Maga. Has it only been two years? It feels so long ago I left the city.

Then, beyond these thoughts, a face begins to surface. Of course, it is her again.

Galjit, will you guide me?

The troll wise-woman gives no response. She is nothing now but a memory.

Yet memories can be so haunting.

The chimes hanging nearby sound softly as a gentle breeze flows in from the water, interrupting his ruminations. Roakkad inhales the salty air and opens his eyes. From the large conch shell before him he pours a handful of water and touches it to his lips. He pours the rest over his head and recites a verse from Hymns to the Winds and Waves. "I am the sundancer. My leaves, rustling in the wind are my songs. The sun and the moon my eyes. It was not until You found me and acknowledged me that You gave me life. I am the sundancer. I dance in the sun."

His obeyance complete, Roakkad stands and glances up into the trees, searching for Tsharat. The she-hawk, sensing her master's call, glides gracefully down from the treetop and comes to rest on his extended forearm.

"Do you find the answers you seek, out here all alone?" The delicate voice of Sabyl Sorn carries over the echo of the waves below.

"You assume there are answers to seek," he replies, as he turns his head to grin at the monk. "I could also ask you this thing. Does Irori answer your questions in the silence of your meditations?"

"You assume there are questions to ask."

They both chuckle at this.

Roakkad has come to enjoy Sabyl's company. In her quiet, contemplative manner he has found a sister spirit. More than once he has privately lamented the fact that her faith was not chosen for the new cathedral. He might have liked to see her more often.

"Are you prepared for the consecration ceremony tomorrow?" she asks, as if reading his thoughts. Her soft brown eyes scan the massive structure awash in the orange glow of the setting sun. "I must say, the new church is awfully impressive."

"I believe that most will not be coming for the church. It is but a...sideshow for this 'swallow's tail' festival, yes?"

"You would be surprised. The locals loved their old church, and Father Tobyn even more. I suspect tomorrow will be a spiritual release for all of them, a new beginning from all these recent problems." She winks. "Of course, Jargie's famous two-pot ale is also sure to draw a crowd."

He laughs again. This is why he likes Sabyl--she is able to put his mind at ease. It has been a while since he has experienced this, and it makes him feel closer to her.

Of course, it also makes him homesick. And that, in turn, brings his thoughts back to Galjit, and he is back where he started. There are so many unanswered questions. And she, his spiritual mother, no longer alive to guide him. His confusion is only compounded by his presence in an unfamiliar town for an unknown purpose. For a fleeting moment, he fears that he shall never find peace.

The wind stirs.

"As you say," he whispers. "And so it shall be. Tomorrow will mark a new beginning for your village. They may lay their troubles to rest."


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

Tera flopped onto the bed with a sigh that was more akin to a groan of frustration than an expression of relief. Father Faustwick had kept her from helping set things up for the festival tomorrow, saying she needed to practice more diligently. It was thanks to Father Zantus that she wasn't going to spend tomorrow chanting an incantation to a simple orison over and over again, or meditating and praying to Abadar to forgive what ever sin she had committed.

"That bad, huh," her roommate asked, an acolyte of Shelyn named Elizabeth that had fast become her best friend over the past three years. The young woman was a year older than Tera, but they two of them looked even further apart than that, thanks to the well developed figure Elizabeth had been blessed with and the slender one Tera possessed that made her look two or three years younger.

"Sometimes I wonder if the mark on my back was because Abadar blessed me or cursed me," Tera confided to Elizabeth as she worked on a sketch. "Father Fusswick decided I was incompetent and lazy and need to practice until my brain felt like it had been replaced with fried eggs. I don't know why it is so hard for me to get this."

Elizabeth looked up from her sketch a slight frown on her face as she looked at her friend with slightly worried, brown eyes. This was a familiar conversation to her, and one that was quickly becoming a weekly one between the two of them.

"Tera, you aren't incompetent. Maybe there's something else that Abadar wants you to do," she tells her friend, beginning the all too familiar dance.

"Maybe, but no one seems to know what it is," came the expected reply.

"Well, at least you can enjoy tomorrow," Elizabeth says, trying, predictably, to cheer her friend up. Tomorrow was special for two reasons for Tera. It was not only the day the Cathedral would be consecrated, and the day of the Swallowtail festival, but the Day Tera would turn seventeen.

"Thanks to Father Zantus," Tera answers, smiling as thoughts about the next day fill her head. Her parents were too busy to come, as usual, but that hadn't done much to dampen her spirits. She would have plenty of fun without them here, anyway.

"Are you busy in the morning," Tera asked as she sat up on the bed, "Jasper's not going to be free until the afternoon and Sam is not all that fun to be around," she explains.

"I'm free all day, and I'd be happy to spend it with you on one condition," Elizabeth tells Tera.

"What?"

"I get to tell Sister Keri about your new nickname for Father Faustwick," the Shelynite tells her with a wickedly gleefully smile.

"As long as you realize that I will take my revenge," Tera replies sweetly before receiving a faceful of pillow.

"Bring it, sister!"

About fifteen minutes later, Father Zantus was busy lecturing the two of them on proper lady-like behavior while they stood sheepishly before him, feathers in their hair.


Male Varisian Bard 4/Swashbuckler 1 | AC 18, T 13, FF 15 | hp 39/39 | Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4 (+2 vs charm & compulsion) | CMD 17 | Initiative +3 | Perception +8 | Bardic performance 15/15 | Hero points 3/3 | Agile Feet 4/4
Spells:
1st 5/5 | 2nd 2/2

Zache paces the hallway, his blue vest hanging open over his yellow shirt and making a satisfying snap with each sharp turn. One hand clutches a journal, folded back on itself to bare a single page; the other clutches a pencil between two fingers and rubs his chin with the others. A scowl is plastered on his face, and his lips twitch in what is easily recognizable as frustration.

"This equinox, we gather at the square
To celebrate the Swallowtail
- no, that doesn't work,"
he mutters, tapping the journal with the pencil. "Going to need to change a few lines and-"

Thud.

An instant later he's on the floor, staring up at a wall and wondering if it had always been there. His pencil skitters to a halt on the flagstones some ten feet away, and his journal isn't anywhere in sight. In the same way that a man about to be beheaded notices every stain and scratch on the executioner's block, he hears distant, muffled whaps and squeals coming from the direction of Tera's room, and the telltale clicking of Salomae's boot-heels on the floor.

The red cloud of pain settles in his head, and he groans, slowly pulling himself upright and massaging the back of his skull. At least he can't feel blood, though he suspects he'll have a nasty bump the next day. At least he'll be facing the crowd for his speech.

"Assuming I can get it finished," he reminds himself, sighing as he manages to stand, somewhat shaky on his feet. Heather's voice echoes in his mind, reminding him he could just ditch the meter, but stubbornness and pride win their brief battle with logic, and he resumes his pacing - somewhat more carefully now.


Shoanti Marked of Sarenrae; HP 40/40 4NL, AC16 T13 FF13, Saves: F+9, R+8, W+4, Initiative +3, Perception +9

Five years Kaelaah has made Sandpoint his home, a calling that he still doesn't understand tying him to this town for many more moons... many more sunrises than he had ever anticipated... His family, who taught him the wonder of the journey, haven't been through this way in all that time and, despite himself, Kaelaah misses them...
The Swallowtail Festival is but one day away... a time of great celebration and excitement as folks from far and wide gather... the anticipation for the day gathers through the town yet Kaelaah, as diligent as he is devout, has duties to attend to. Sarenrae has many aspects and it is her teachings of compassion that resonate strongest with the tall Shoanti... If one had cause to look for Kaelaah then the first place one would look would be where the sick are treated or are convalescing. With some teaching, and a little aptitude, Kaelaah has found himself to be of some use here... The marks along his wrists tell him of a different destiny yet, for now, it is enough to be here... amongst the ill...

There are few people here today... Those who could walk, or even be pushed or carried, have done their utmost to be part of the celebrations - but Astrid is not so lucky. Found at the foot of a cliff-face four days previous, Astrid has been clinging to life... Semi-conscious and blinded from her extensive injuries, Kaelaah has tried, ever since she was brought here, to provide some comfort to the small girl...

"Astrid... I'm here... It's me, Kaelaah...focus on my voice Astrid...move towards it...leave your dreaming behind and rejoin your family"

...no response... and the girl, deathly pale, looks worse than ever... Resting his hand upon her brow, Kaelaah whispers - his voice full of warmth, "The festival preparations are going well... It should be a fine day... The whole town will be there... You will be there... You'll see..."

The girl murmurs and leaning in Kaelaah asks, "Astrid? You nearly spoke... What did you want to say?"

...silence for a moment before Astrid's eyes blink open... yet they are surely not her eyes - burning with fire they seem to pierce Kaelaah's soul - and the words that pour from her mouth, uncontrolled and unmeasured, make little sense...

"...A wolf in the woods - bloodied fangs... Coins falling through the void... Wings of comets, copper and dust... Cold steel rising... The wind and the waves... The sun... The sun... The sun...", a small hand grabs Kaelaah's wrist, "Look to the east when the night is darkest... Look to the east!!!"

As the familiar feeling of fire grows along his wrists - Kaelaah struggles to stay calm... He breathes slowly, remembering all that he has learnt... and, slowly, the feeling subsides. Composure returned, Kaelaah looks down at the sleeping girl - Astrid, as if she had never spoken, murmurs in her dreaming... far far from consciousness...

Whispering a prayer and tracing a sun-burst on Astrid's forehead, Kaelaah takes his leave and, unsettled, heads out into the day...


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

Like clockwork, Kaede wakes just before dawn, an acquired habit from when she was first apprenticed in Sakakabe. With a speed that can only be described as rote behavior, she dresses for what she considers her first duty of the morning. At a hurried pace, the young Minkaian retrieves her glaive, and gracefully races for the rooftop stairs. Climbing onto the roof, she takes a dozen steps in the brisk autumn breeze, and enters a rest stance, waiting for the signal to begin. That signal happens not a moment later, as the sun creeps over the horizon, and the first cock crow is heard in the distance.

So, Kaede begins to dance and softly sing from on top of Sandpoint Cathedral.

Starting slowly at first, the priestess gives herself all to her dance/prayer, letting herself be open to the glory of the new day. With each step, her glaive alternates its role: a dance partner for one motion, a flourishing prop for the next, a weapon following that. While not acrobatic by any means, the performance is distinctly athletic, and Kaede is breathing heavily after she completes her first oblations.

"I thought I heard you wind down." As Kaede turned toward the stairway, Father Zantus climbed up the last couple steps to the rooftop. Almost instinctively, Kaede gives the cathedral's high priest a bow of respect, before answering.

"Yes, Father, I'm finishing this part of my prayers." With another practiced movement, she slides her glaive into its harness , before asking, "Is there something I can do for you?"

In response, the Desnan priest offers a scrap of paper to Kaede. "Nothing vital, just several things that need to be done before the Festival tomorrow."

"I understand," she replies, as she slides the paper into her belt pouch, and kneels on the roof, I'll see to these after breakfast."

"Thank you, Kaede. And out of curiosity, why did you decide to pray up here today? Normally, you perform in the courtyard in the center of the cathedral."

Kaede smiles at Father Zantus for a moment before she answers. "Because I wanted to see the sun rise, and because I wished to perform for others." She gestures lightly toward the town and the Old Light. "I'm sure anyone that wished could watch me from the square."


map of Sandpoint | current map

The morning of the festival Father Zantus is a strange and unpredictable mix of giddy and anxious. Everyone who lives on the Cathedral grounds, from the newest initiate to the High Priest himself, has a list of chores that must be completed. As the streets begin to fill up and the smells of the foodstands in the square begin to waft in, the new Cathedral is a flurry of busyness right up until the festivities are about to begin. Finally, only minutes before noon, everyone is gathered in the new central worship space and Father Zantus adresses them, "Thank you all for your hard work. This new Cathedral has been a long time coming and the scores of people who come through to see it today will appreciate it's beauty all the more for your hard work cleaning and polishing and praying over it as you have. In a moment we'll head out for the opening ceremony. Initiates and acolytes may fill in the area between whatever crowd has already formed and the front of the stage. There are 12 chairs set for us on the near side of the stage: the six in front are for myself and the other priests, the six in back are for the marked- please each sit behind the priest of your faith. After the swallowtails have been released everyone will be free to participate in the festivities until the bell tolls to call us to the dedication ceremony; except, of course, for Brother Aeryn and his initiates who will be responsible for overseeing all the visitors here." Turning his attention directly to the marked he offers one further instruction, "Knowledge and rumors about you six have spread far and there will be people here who are curious about your marks and your abilities... it is up to you how you respond to them, but please remember that you are representatives of this Cathedral, and of your gods and your actions will reflect on us and them."

After he concludes his instructions, the High Priest leads the procession of the faithful out of the Cathedral, across a short stretch of the square immediately in front of it, and up onto the stage erected for the festival. The crowd grows more energetic as the opening ceremony seems ready to begin. A voice in the crowd near the stage calls out "Show us your mark! Let us touch..." but is abruptly cut short by a cracking boom as a well dressed woman on the stage slams two thunderstones together. A second of stunned silence is followed by a chorus of murmurs running through the crowd: hush... look... no, the mayor's about to say something...

Stepping up to a large central podium, the woman smiles broadly and calls out as loudly as she can, "Greetings! I am Mayor Deverin and on behalf of the good people of Sandpoint I bid you Welcome! The gods have seen fit to bless us this day with beautiful weather, and following the speeches some of our own inns and taverns will be blessing us with the bounty of their kitchens!" Her enthusiasm seems to be contagious and she has to pause for a moment after alluding to the day's free lunch to wait for some cheers to subside. "I can see that we have a few visitors here today..." she jokes, once again needing to pause while laughter dies down. Sandpoint is a town of about twelve-hundred people normally but, looking out from the stage, it seemed like there were twice that many trying to squeeze into the square. "It is a pleasure to celebrate this momentous occasion with all of you, and my pleasure to introduce our other speakers. So, without further ado, our honorable sheriff, Belor Hemlock!"

The large Shoanti man responsible for keeping order in town rises and makes his way to the pulpit to a smattering of applause. He is every bit as somber as the mayor was enthused. "There are far too many people in town right now, so be careful. In a crowd like this there are sure to be pickpockets and the Sczarni are not above kidnapping when it suits their purpose. Hells, with this many people about there might even be slavers pokin' around. So don't go crazy with the drinks, and don't get to fightin' else we'll lock you up till things quiet down and we can sort out what happened. As many of you know, the reason for the new church is that the old one burnt. Remember that if you're thinking about doin' anything dumb with your torches or campfires. Now, let's have a moment of silence for those that died in the fire."

The mayor tries to hide her annoyance and appear reverent as the sheriff stands wordlessly behind the podium for an awkwardly long time. Eventually it becomes too much for her and she calls out, "Our sheriff, ladies and gentleman." As he quietly returns to his seat she continues, "and our next speaker is the Sandpoint Theater's owner and chief promoter, a man who loves the arts very nearly as much as he loves your patronage, Cyrdak Drokkas!"

The mayor's words seem to breathe some life back into the crowd and there are cheers and claps as he rises. While he approaches the podium Brother Aeryn and Father Zantus quietly discuss the absence of Lonjiku Kaijitsu, a local noble who canceled his speech this morning due to an illness which they seem to think he invented to avoid the crowds and hawkers. Cyrdak is a charming and articulate man. He gives the longest of all the speeches by far, recounting at length the misadventures of the builders, fundraisers, and inconvenienced villagers throughout the years long construction process. By the time his tale draws to a close most of the people are laughing and cheering and hanging on every word. He concludes with an invitation to check out "The Harpy's Curse" playing at the Sandpoint Theater this season and a flamboyant bow before returning to his seat.

The mayor rises once more and introduces Father Zantus. Stepping up to the podium he speaks clearly, loudly, and simply, "Thank you all, very much, for coming to celebrate with us. And thank you to the elders of Sandpoint, the leaders of our faiths, and all of the generous individuals who gave gifts towards the construction of our new Cathedral; without all of your support we would not be standing here today. But you have stood listening long enough: the gods have brought us here to celebrate and it is my honor to announce the festival officially begun. May the Starsong keep you safe, and full, and full of joy this day!" As he finishes speaking the acolytes pull tarps off of several carts and multicolored clouds of the eponymous Swallowtail butterflies fill the air. The crowd lets out its biggest cheer yet to accompany the releasing of the swallowtails and children immediately begin chasing after the butterflies, as best they can in the crowds.

Before completely losing the crowds attention, the mayor jumps up once more, "Please help yourselves to the food in an orderly manner. Take some time this afternoon to try your luck at the games, check out the various vendors and local businesses, and we'll see you back here at sunset for the dedication!"

The speeches done, the buzz among the people has become tangible and everywhere people are laughing and joking and having fun. Booths with games of balance, accuracy, or strength open for business and stalls offering all manner food, drink, and goods raise their curtains.

You have about 4 hours before you'll have to return to prepare for the dedication ceremony. Feel free to explore, play games, or have conversations and I'll plan on posting the ceremony once everyone's done with that. You're currently all seated on the stage together so feel free to interact with each other and/or head out with others if you like.


HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

Roakkad sits behind Brother Edrus, his hands resting gently on his lap, resolutely silent despite the fervor of the crowd. Among the dull clamor of the audience bits of speech register to his ear.

Show us your mark...let us touch...lunch at Fatman's Feedbag...please, bless my baby...half the price of Magnimar...sister is sick...

The event has indeed drawn a sizeable crowd and, despite himself, the energy of the audience has begun to make him restless. Tsharat, perched on his shoulder, caws in understanding. He strokes her feathers absent-mindedly.

Roakkad glances to either side, down the row of his peers. Beside him, Sal appears to pay rapt attention, while Kaelaah stares down at his tattoos, seemingly lost in thought. Kaede sits elegantly, her posture perfect.

I wonder what sort of travelers will be present this year.

This is Roakkad's second festival, though the details of that event are a whirlwind of confusion, thanks in no small part to the mountain of chores Father Zantus piled upon him. He struggles to recall them as Hemlock says something about starting a fire.

"Your actions will reflect on us and them."

"...a moment of silence for those that died in the fire."

Roakkad silently reprimands himself for his lack of focus as he bows in head in remembrance for those who were lost.

----------------

During Cyrdak's speech, Roakkad's thoughts again wander. Cyrdak's accent has always been difficult for him to understand, and many of the jokes are lost on him. When the crowd erupts in laughter, he merely smiles. He reaches into his robes and retrieves the pecan nuts he harvested yesterday. He offers one to Tsharat, but she isn't interested. He places one on Salomae's knee, a silent invitation to share in his breakfast.

-----------------

After Deverin's closing remarks, he turns to Kaede.

"我预测你会赢得第一名的土豆袋子比赛再次,是吗"

Language(Tien):

"I predict you will be winning first place in the potato bag race once again, yes?"


Inactive

Salomae sat calmly through the introductory speeches, laughing along with everyone else at the jokes and growing solemn when talk turned to sadder things. For the most part it was the same as it had been every other year since she'd come to Sandpoint, although she was pretty certain that this was the biggest crowd she'd seen yet.

Well, it's not every day that a place has a dedication to a new cathedral. Faithful from all over the countryside are here this year; maybe even from as far as Magnimar.

"Show us your mark! Let us touch..."

Sal flinched. Although she understood why, she had always hated this part of the ceremonies, where the crowd's attention would always be directed to the 'marked' ones. Normally, it wasn't such a big deal; the locals of Sandpoint knew who she was and for the most part didn't bother her about her mark. But from the visitors from out of town, there were always questions, people begging for her to listen to their prayers or to bless the upcoming birth of a child. And some of the more persistent ones would want to actually see the mark for themselves. She always toughed her way through it because it was what was expected of her, but it always left her feeling more drained than any patrol route with Shalelu could ever manage.

A slight movement against her knee jolted her out of her inner thoughts and she looked down to see a small pecan sitting on her knee. She glanced over at Roakkad, who was seated next to her, and offered a small nod of thanks as she picked up the pecan and popped it into her mouth. At least now she wasn't the only one. Now there were others in Sandpoint, each marked in a similar manner as she was, each belonging to a different god.

Maybe now I won't be pestered quite so much...

She flinched again, immediately feeling a twinge of guilt. It wasn't their fault; all most of them wanted was a bit of comfort amid the uncertainty of every-day life. Was it really that much trouble for her to give them what they were looking for?

No...but am I capable of it in the first place? I'm not a knight or a warrior-priestess like Kaede...

Okay no. We're not doing this today. It's bad enough that Taliah and her family couldn't make it, but we're not going to sit around and make today worse by moping about things that can't be changed.

As soon as Mayor Deverin finishes her closing speech, she turns to the others. "Well, that took long enough! I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm ready to get up and move around, stretch my legs a bit."

This will be a good day. There's no reason for it not to be.


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

Tera was dressed in the white robes she saved for ceremonies such as this one. They covered her from the neck down, and the calls for the "chosen" to show their marks left her a little embarrassed. She'd have to open up the robes and the neck of her tunic enough to slip them well past her shoulders, and she wasn't about to do that here. Compared to that, she wasn't half as bothered by the other requests.

During the opening of the festivities, she sat behind Father Faustwick, keeping her attention on the speeches, lest he get the notion that she was acting less than proper. It was a little difficult to keep her posture and demeanor proper during Cyrdak's speech. One of his tales had involved her, Elizabeth, two ladders, and gnome artist working on a mural, and that as enough to make her want to hide in a hole somewhere. She could tell that Faustwick hadn't yet forgiven her of that incident by the rather alarming shade the patch of bald skin on the back of his head was turning.

Then came the best part of the Swallowtail Festival. Say what you like about the Desnans, she thought, they do have some spectacular imagery. The whirlwind of butterflies flitting into the sky was a sight she'd always looked forward to ever since her first Swallowtail festival almost a year after she had arrived. This year was the most spectacular yet. The array of colors and patterns dazzled the young mage as she watched with a big beaming smile.

====

After the ceremony, Tera stands up, relieved to finally have some time to have a little fun. Today is her birthday, and she intends to enjoy it.

"Hey, Sal, Kaede? I was wondering if you two wanted to enjoy the afternoon together with me and Elizabeth," she asks the other two young women before focusing her attention on Sal, "We have to find her first, though, so that should give you a chance to stretch your legs plenty."

The young Abadarian adjusts her ceremonial crossbow and the book attached to her belt as she waits for their answers.


Male Varisian Bard 4/Swashbuckler 1 | AC 18, T 13, FF 15 | hp 39/39 | Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4 (+2 vs charm & compulsion) | CMD 17 | Initiative +3 | Perception +8 | Bardic performance 15/15 | Hero points 3/3 | Agile Feet 4/4
Spells:
1st 5/5 | 2nd 2/2

As he takes his seat behind Sister Callinova, dressed in his best and brightest clothing and three scarves, Zache feels a momentary sting of envy. True, the town could recognize all of the 'marked', as they had come to be known, on sight; however, while the others had their marks on their chests, or elbows, or backs, his was stamped across his face, as plain as day, stretching across his cheekbone. While the others could cover theirs, he'd never had that hope.

So, he'd learned to embrace it. Play up the charade. Kiss babies, allow people to touch the butterfly-shaped mark, spout mystical nonsense in archaic meters. Live with it, in other words, and allow people to have their hopes.

He sits in silence through the speeches, his fingers drumming against his thigh until he catches a sharp look from Tera (whether it was actually directed at him was hard to say, but Abadarians were a notoriously stuffy lot). He stills the rhythm, though not without some difficulty, as staying in one place for a prolonged length of time had never been a skill. He finds his mind wandering, and tries to bring it away from his mental critique of the speeches and back to the spirit of the celebration.

After what seems like far too long, the formalities are over, and he stands, stretching his arms above his head, lifting the hem of his shirt an inch or so. "Well, I don't know about anyone else, but I feel like dancing," he grins, gesturing to a five-piece musical ensemble across the square. "Anyone care to join me?"


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

If there was one thing that translates well in any language, It's pomp and ceremony, Kaede mused as she listened to the speeches for the Desnan festival. Thankfully, when Kaede came to Avistan, she brought her ceremonial robes along, in case the area that she came to didn't worship Shelyn. So, Kaede and Brother Walse had another... well, lively debate would be the best description, about her garb. While, the argument was entertaining to Kaede in general, the sheer repetition of it was starting to wear on her. But her choice of robes were still the silver and red of her Tien-styled robes.

Since it would be slightly sacrilegious to keep her glaive on her during the ongoing festivities, Kaede had deposited in a dark corner near the Cathedral's entrance. Still, she felt a little underdressed without it's comforting weight on her. Of course, this crowd didn't help either. When the outcry toward the 'marked' came, Kaede was rather unnerved by it as well. The concept of being considered a walking blessing isn't new to me, but for people to be so... so desperate for it... It's both heart-wrenching and terrifying at the same time...

Thankfully, Mayor Deverin's timely interruption, breaks Kaede's thoughts as quickly as it breaks the crowd's actions and the discussion of this year's festivities did much to calm her. Roakkad's mention of last year's festival, however, brings Kaede to a full blush exceedingly fast. In a likewise hurried pace, Kaede responses,

"いいえ、結構です。私は昨年に行く知っていたなら、私は最初の場所に関与し得なかったであろう。私はほとんどの人が今ではそのことについて忘れていたことを期 待していました。私は、あなたの共通の舌で初心者でした"

Tien:
"No, thank you. If I knew what going on last year, I wouldn't have gotten involved in the first place. I had hoped that most people had forgotten about that by now. I was a novice at your common tongue then."

Then in an obvious attempt to change topic, she turns to respond to Tera, "Sure, where were you thinking about going after finding Elizabeth?"


HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

Roakkad isn't sure if Kaede is offended, embarrassed, or proud. He thinks to apologize, but she has already turned away. Besides, the crowd has now begun to rise from their seats.

She may yet emerge from her shell. Like a pecan.

He chuckles at his own cleverness, chewing the last of the nuts.

At Zache's question, Roakkad retrieves his staff, stored beneath his seat, and clamors to his feet. He laughs at Zache's offer, glancing toward the musicians.

No drums. No fire.

"The Shriikirri dance like no other. Give us a big, roaring fire." He spreads his arms wide. "Give us the heavy beat of drums." He slaps his stomach. "Give us the big, night sky." He points up.

"But this is not a Shriikirri dance. One day, as you wish, I will show you how to dance as the Shriikirri do. But today, I choose instead only to learn, friend, as you show me the dance of your tribe."

Tsharat squaks in disapproval.


Inactive

"Yes, that sounds like a plan to me," Sal quickly agrees with Kaede. Though she had no idea what Roakkad had said to put the Tien woman in such a fluster, she could appreciate the obvious desire to change the topic. "Any ideas on where Elizabeth ran off to?" she adds, mentally thankful that someone was taking Zache up on the offer to dance, sort of. Although she didn't necessarily mind the invitation, dancing was really something that she enjoyed best as a spectator sport.


Shoanti Marked of Sarenrae; HP 40/40 4NL, AC16 T13 FF13, Saves: F+9, R+8, W+4, Initiative +3, Perception +9

Dressed in simply decorated white robes and with tan leather strapping disguising the marks along his wrists, Kaelaah sits quietly and respectfully behind Sister Amet-Ra; one after another, the various dignitaries of Sandpoint take their turn to speak to the assembled masses yet the Sarenrite finds he cannot concentrate upon their, often long-winded proclamations... Instead, he finds himself retreating to a quiet place in his own mind; a place where he reflects upon his time in Sandpoint...

...his arrival at the old cathedral and that overwhelming feeling of belonging...

...the grand old building burning down within a year with the inevitable whispers and sideways glances that followed...

...his time spent with Sister Amet-Ra, learning the teachings of Sarenrae - her aspects of the Sun, Healing and, of course, Fire resonating with the Shoanti...

...watching as the new cathedral was, over half a decade, rebuilt - the feeling of conflict in his heart as he felt himself becoming spiritually tied to one singleplace; belying the wanderlust of his Varisian upbringing...

...a strange feeling of 'family' as more of the 'marked' drifted towards Sandpoint - yet, despite that feeling, he always felt outside of the group... unsure of who he was... or why he had been 'called', 'gifted', 'marked'... Kaelaah focussed upon his learning...

...and then, as glorious as it is every year, Father Zantus releases the butterflies into the early afternoon sky - excitable children, screaming with laughter, chase the fluttering blue clouds every which way... and then, gaining altitude, the butterflies find themselves caught upon the breeze and disperse...

Where do you go? Who shapes your fate?

...with that, the speeches are done and Kaelaah finds himself, for the first time in many weeks, with time to do as he will. After seeking permission from his teacher, he makes his way towards any stalls or sideshows run by travelling Varisians - he would rather no-one from the cathedral knew but he is looking for word of his 'parents'...


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

"No idea. We, uh, kinda forgot to make plans on where to meet," Tera admits to Sal a little sheepishly, "but we better hurry! I didn't eat much for breakfast and Ameiko's cooking smells too good to pass up this year!"

Tera grabs the two of them and leads them into the crowd as she looks for her friend. As they look, Tera chats excitedly about everything going on and how today was her last day as an apprentice mage. Her birthday was on the Autumnal Equinox, the same day as the Swallowtail Festival, and she turned seventeen this year.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

GM, do you want to play Elizabeth or should I?


Inactive

"Wha, er okay, sure thing..." Sal stammers as Tera grabs her and Kaede and practically drags them off into the crowd. She shoots an apologetic look over her shoulder at Roakkad and Zache.

At least they should be able to entertain themselves!

As they go, she also catches a glimpse of Kaelaah before he too disappears into the crowd. She didn't really know him that well, despite his having lived in Sandpoint for the past five years or so. However, she never had believed the rumors that he was somehow responsible for the fire that had claimed part of the old cathedral.

Nothing but fear-mongering. Anyone with any sense knows that Father Tobyn was bad for falling asleep with his reading candles still burning. But I guess it's hard to blame someone who should've known better.

Suddenly realizing that Tera was still chattering away about this and that, she manages to drag her attention back to the here-and-now in time to catch something about a last day as an apprentice mage.

"That's great," she awkwardly offers. "So, I guess you're going to move on to a different...area...of study?"

That's a thing that mages and wizards do, right? They're always studying one thing or another.


Male Varisian Bard 4/Swashbuckler 1 | AC 18, T 13, FF 15 | hp 39/39 | Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4 (+2 vs charm & compulsion) | CMD 17 | Initiative +3 | Perception +8 | Bardic performance 15/15 | Hero points 3/3 | Agile Feet 4/4
Spells:
1st 5/5 | 2nd 2/2

Seeing Kaelaah skulk off to... whatever it was that he did, and Tera drag the other girls away, Zache sighs. "Well, big guy, looks like it's you and me," he grins, cracking his knuckles and undoing the buttons of his vest as he makes his way over to the music. "It's not quite traditional, but it'll do." Several people are already there, and he inserts himself among them, a blur of colour as he whirls and spins to the rhythm. At his middling height, he soon disappears, lost in the growing crowd of dancers.

After half a minute or so, he darts out long enough to, grinning, grab Roakkad by the arm and drag him into the mad melee, attempting to demonstrate some basic steps and posturing. Unfortunately, his feet tangle halfway through a spin and he trips, landing heavily for the second time in twenty-four hours, rolling out of the way of another pair of feet and quickly standing, brushing dust off his clothes and looking thoroughly embarassed. "That's, um, not part of the dance," he mutters sheepishly, grinning up at Roakkad. "Well, come on, let's see what you learned!"

Perform (dance; untrained): 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
Fun fact: Zache's nine inches shorter than Roakkad. They're not very well-matched dance partners.


map of Sandpoint | current map

The sights and smells of the festival are truly remarkable. Butterflies flutter through the air and settle, for short periods, on every still surface. People everywhere are dressed in bright and beautiful clothing, and smiles and laughter abound. From the Rusty Dragon's food stall a rich curry scent is wafting throughout the square. When Zache falls a nearby group of scruffy Varisian men laugh at his misstep. Their laughs, however, quickly cease when a beautiful and curvy young redhead helps him to his feet and begins dancing with him.

As the girls pick their way through the crowd they are inundated with options of booths to stop at: jewelry, fine Varisian scarves, a star-knife throwing contest, wines and meads, sketches, fresh flowers... suddenly they are interrupted when a fourth girl comes crashing out of the crowd and nearly takes out Tera. It's her friend Elizabeth, her hands full with a large chocolate sweet roll and she nearly squeals, "Happy Birthday!"

Generally I'll run all the NPC but for the sake of expedience as we move through the festival go ahead and write Elizabeth yourself Tera.


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

Splitting things up a bit.

Tera's enthusiasm drops a few notches at Salomae's question. Realizing she's putting a damper on the mood, she shakes her head and tries to focus on the festivities ahead.

"Sorry, I shouldn't be getting all gloomy because of an honest question," she apologizes, "it's just I'm not looking forward to what Brother Fusswick is going to be like when he finds out."

===

Tera recovers quickly from being nearly knocked over by her overly exuberant friend.

"Thanks! I was wondering where you'd gotten off to," Tera says before moving to the side so the other two could join the conversation, "I was hoping to get in line at Ameiko's before it got too long, but..."

One look was all it took to see that Ameiko's stall was easily the most popular, with a line thrice the size of the next three biggest combined.

"We could always go to Garridan's," Elizabeth offered.

"Wait. Isn't Jargie serving that reefclaw gumbo that was really good today," Tera asks.

"I think so," Elizabeth replies, "his stall is right over there, I think," she says, pointing to the western end of the square.

"Okay," Tera says as she turns to others, a bright smile on her face, "does that sound good to both of you? It's not as good as Ameiko's curried salmon, but it's got a little bit of a kick, and I think he started adding some sausage from one of the farms that makes it really good."


1 person marked this as a favorite.
HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

Zache is indeed a whirlwind of color, his scarves twirling to the music, always half a step behind their wearer. Nestled among the crowd of other moving bodies, it's quite an impressive sight.

When he is pulled into the throng, Roakkad is unsure how to conduct himself. The exotic hand gestures and precise footwork of the Desnans is a world away from the more basic, animalistic dancing of the Shoanti. Still, he gives a heroic effort, no doubt standing out like a turkey among peacocks. Tsharat, clearly displeased, perches on a nearby fruit cart.

When Zache takes a tumble, Roakkad considers him, unsuccessfully hiding the grin that has begun to spread across his face.

"Ah yes, of course, dirt dancing!"

Roakkad throws himself to the ground in an attempt to replicate this new, modern style.

Perform(dance): 1d20 ⇒ 3


3 people marked this as a favorite.
HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

Memory:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Again."

Matlaihuitl's booming voice reverberated throughout the chamber. His extraordinarily tall frame was draped in an elegant cloak of long, golden eagle feathers. His stern face was crowned by a headdress of similar construction. It showered down his shoulders, creating a gilded cascade that trailed to the floor. He stood, arms crossed over chest, a look of impatient anticipation upon his face.

He was quite the imposing figure, especially to the young Roakkad.

After the druids of Big Sky Spire proclaimed him a scion of Gozreh, the boy Roakkad was brought to attend religious ceremonies once he came of age. For several years that meant only observing, listening, and inciting prayers to the Wind and the Waves. On his 7th birthday, that changed. The druids of the Spire began to take a more active role in his "education." He was taken to the secret, sacred chambers of the Spire. He was shown artifacts, ancient and unknown. He was taken to visit the very oldest and dying among the clan, and he witnessed their death ceremonies. He was taught to sing to the rain, and to talk to the clouds, and to revere all of nature's gifts, both great and terrible. The Sky druids, of course, revered birds above all other animals, for they possess the most Sky in their spirit, and are thus closest of all beings to Gozreh herself. Lessons in the Auran tongue soon commenced.

Yes, the Shoanti boy had been a disciple of the Big Sky Spire for two years. But he never ceased to be nervous around Matlaihuitl, the Air-Dancer, the Voice of the Western Wind, the Reincarnated One, the leader of the Sky druids.

For days now, Matlaihuitl had taken it upon himself to instruct Roakkad in tamiirish skeklah, or "wind feeling," the manipulation of air itself. Matlaihuitl had demonstrated a simple exercise. At the the circular stone, torch-lit chamber in which they stood, a small drainage pit had been excavated in the floor. Matlaihuitl had knelt before this pit. After a moment's meditation, he raised his hands, and the tiniest of storm clouds had appeared, floating within the domed ceiling. It began to rain, the waters trickling down the drain and out of sight. After a moment the cloud dissipated, leaving only the aroma of wet stone behind.

Now Roakkad, on his knees, sat before the bone-dry pit, concentrating intently on shaping the air into a cloud. His brow furrowed in concentration, his knees aching, he groaned in desperation. The room was cold. He had had neither food nor water for a full day. Hour after hour they had been here, Matlaihiutl doing nothing more than demanding a cloud!

"How can I do this thing," he snapped, "I don't know the first thing about creating rain!"

He was shocked at his outburst and shrank back, awaiting certain reprimand from Matlaihuitl.

But it did not come.

"Hawk Brother," said the druid, using the name he himself assigned the young boy, "You must not succumb to frustration and impatience. The air can sense your anger. A true tamirrish skeklah-enok has the patience of a winter seed. You must wait, in perfect silence, for the rains of spring to come."

He stared down at the young boy, his posture as still as an ancient oak.

"Remember," he continued, "You do not create the storm, for the storm already exists. The storm created you. The storm exists inside of you, now. You must simply let it free. Again."

Roakkad tried to calm his nerves. As Matlaihuitl's words repeated in his mind, he took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, and once more tried to envision rain.

But he did not see rain. Instead, he saw dancing. His tribe, and the other Shoanti, were gathered in a square below the towering Kaer Magan hovels that served as their home. Only a child, Roakkad was forbidden from dancing, though he yearned dearly to join. Large ginoktuk-style drums were being played by the elder men, their rhythm pumping through the night air, floating over the large bonfire that had been set at the center of the crowd. THUMP-thump-THUMP-thump-THUMP-thump-THUMP-thump. Screams and wails rose up into the sky as the Shoanti began to chant prayers to Gozreh, to flow to the rhythm, to dance around the flames. The fire roared. The volume of their cries and the intensity of the drumming rose high among the urban sprawl, higher still, until the dancers had worked themselves into an uncontrollable religious fervor.

*CRACK*

Roakkad's mind was snatched back to reality and his eyes flew open. The smell of burnt ozone clung to the air. Before him, a perfect, miniature thunderhead floated in mid-air. Tiny lightning bolts erupted within the cloud, flashing here, then there. It spun slowly but impatiently, as if waiting for a command. Roakkad was afraid to breathe. Not a moment later, the entire thing dissolved into thin air, leaving only Matlaihuitl's proud face hanging in the firelight.

"Now," he said, "I think you are ready."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Shoanti Marked of Sarenrae; HP 40/40 4NL, AC16 T13 FF13, Saves: F+9, R+8, W+4, Initiative +3, Perception +9

...there are so many here today - I suppose it is not often that a cathedral is dedicated... even if it is a replacement for one which previously stood...

Kaelaah turns and gazes at the grand building - something inside him recalls the simple roadside shrines that his 'parents' paid tribute at...

...and yet there are the enormous temples which Sister Amet-Ra talks of...spires scraping the very heavens and song that can be heard for leagues around...

So lost in thought is he that he doesn't notice the group of youths approaching - a gently shove in his back brings him back to reality with a jolt.

"Try not to burn this one down!!!"

"We know it was you... You're not from around here... You're not one of us and you just got jealous!!!"

"How dare you stand up there with Father Zantus!!! You think you're better than us - you're not fit to polish his boots!!!"

...and, for the second time that day, Kaelaah feels a burning inside - a barely controlled inferno asking... no, begging to be released....

...not here... not now.... these are your people.... remember... remember....

Kaelaah, taller than any of the boys who were goading him, pushes them out of the way - a little too hard as one goes tumbling on his backside - and heads towards the sound of traditional Varisian music.


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

Kaede watches Kaelaah slip away from the others and is tempted for a moment to follow him. There is great sorrow in his silence, she thought as, for a moment, she debates following him.

Then the whirlwind of motion that is Tera starts up again, and Kaede looks back at the vivacious young lady. After all, one of the first things that Kaede learned here was the best way to deal with Tera's energy was just to go with the flow. Besides, she's a joy to be around when it happens (and entertaining as well). However, when she looks back to where she saw Kaelaah, there was no sign of Sarenrae's chosen. Oh well... Be safe, flame seeker.

Perusing the stalls were a delight after the weeks of work that the clergy had done to prepare for this day. Just reveling in the air of joy is enough for Kaede..... Until she smells the curry. After listening to Tera and Elizabeth try to talk her and Salomae out of that wonderous smell, Kaede shakes her head in disagreement.

"If we want to try whatever delight that Amieko has crafted for the festival, we can be patient. And besides, It is Amieko's cooking. It will be worth the wait." Kaede glances eagerly toward the Rusty Dragon's table, with the odor of the curry spices reminding her of home.


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

"True, I can be patient, sometimes," Tera admits, or rather half-lies, "It's just that I didn't have much for breakfast and my stomach is complaining about it, vehemently."

"Lucky for you, Birthday Girl, I got something to remedy that," Elizabeth says, nodding to the sweetroll iced with chocolate buttercream.

Tera soon finds herself in line with Kaede, Salomae, and Elizabeth, the four of them sharing the sweetroll to tide them over until they could get some of Ameiko's delicious cooking.

"Hey, Kaede, I've been wanting to ask, why did you come over here to Avistan," Tera asks the Shelynite. She'd asked about Kaede's home and what things were like over the Crown of the World, but she'd generally avoided personal questions. "I know it's a dangerous trip, no matter what route you take, so I was curious what could lead a young priestess to come to a land she barely knows."

Elizabeth cocks an eyebrow at Tera, caught slightly off guard by direction the conversation had suddenly taken.


Inactive

"When he finds out? You mean he doesn't know?" Sal asks, genuinely surprised. "In that case I guess I can't blame you for worrying. Brother Fus-Faustwick never has been the type to enjoy surprises. But on the other hand, worrying won't change anything. Just deal with things as they come."

Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, Sal quickly steps out of the way and narrowly avoids being bowled over by Elizabeth as she practically tackles Tera. "Speaking of dealing with things as they come, I think we've found Elizabeth, or at least she's found us!" Sal laughs.

As the talk quickly turns to food and which line to wait in, the redheaded woman simply shrugs. "Why not try both? I mean, overdoing it is obviously a bad thing - believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way during my first year here. But as long as you take it in moderation, I think that food is meant to be enjoyed."

Quickly finding herself in the line for Ameiko's stall, she too gives Tera a curious look as she steers the conversation in Kaede's direction. She'd not spent a great deal of time with Tera in the years that she'd been in Sandpoint, but she knew enough to know that this sort of serious talk coming from her was somewhat unusual.


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

Kaede looks at the line, noting that she has more then enough time to answer that...

"The simplest answer was that Shelyn told me too." she responses quietly, after a moment pause. "I grew up at the temple in Sakakabe. I knew that living in the Lady's graces and protecting her flock was my calling. But I was unsure how I should be doing that. So I asked an oracle at the temple for guidance... Normally, the oracle would give a cryptic message, and half the challenge is trying to decipher Shelyn's will. My portend was anything but cryptic. I was told to come here, and my destiny will show itself here. None of the other priests had heard such a straight forward response either. So, I was told to travel here, and so I did."

With a second pause, she sighs and continues. "The Lady of Chrysanthemums works in mysterious ways. Most shrines to her wouldn't have any way for my to properly practice. Here, I have the good Brother, and other interesting styles to train against. Likewise, you all are here, saying that something that the gods want stopped will happen here. I have faith in my Lady."


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1
Salomae Amsel wrote:
"When he finds out? You mean he doesn't know?" Sal asks, genuinely surprised. "In that case I guess I can't blame you for worrying. Brother Fus-Faustwick never has been the type to enjoy surprises. But on the other hand, worrying won't change anything. Just deal with things as they come."

"No, he doesn't. And it's not so much the surprise as, well..." Tera's voice trails off, leaving the, "as the fact that he'll expect even more from me, and be disappointed when I can't deliver," unspoken.

Though the gloomy mood settling over Tera is soon dissipated by the burst of sunshine that's named Elizabeth.

Salomae Amsel wrote:
As the talk quickly turns to food and which line to wait in, the redheaded woman simply shrugs. "Why not try both? I mean, overdoing it is obviously a bad thing - believe me, I learned that lesson the hard way during my first year here. But as long as you take it in moderation, I think that food is meant to be enjoyed."

"That sounds like a plan, but I think Kaede is going to leave us behind if we don't try Ameiko's first," Tera says with a laugh. Elizabeth gives a chuckle as well.

"I suppose we'd better hurry before the line gets longer than it is already then," the acolyte of Shelyn says.

Salomae Amsel wrote:
Quickly finding herself in the line for Ameiko's stall, she too gives Tera a curious look as she steers the conversation in Kaede's direction. She'd not spent a great deal of time with Tera in the years that she'd been in Sandpoint, but she knew enough to know that this sort of serious talk coming from her was somewhat unusual.
Kaede Mayumi wrote:

Kaede looks at the line, noting that she has more then enough time to answer that...

"The simplest answer was that Shelyn told me too." she responds quietly, after a moment pause. "I grew up at the temple in Sakakabe. I knew that living in the Lady's graces and protecting her flock was my calling. But I was unsure how I should be doing that. So I asked an oracle at the temple for guidance... Normally, the oracle would give a cryptic message, and half the challenge is trying to decipher Shelyn's will. My portend was anything but cryptic. I was told to come here, and my destiny will show itself here. None of the other priests had heard such a straightforward response either. So, I was told to travel here, and so I did."

With a second pause, she sighs and continues. "The Lady of Chrysanthemums works in mysterious ways. Most shrines to her wouldn't have any way for me to properly practice. Here, I have the good Brother, and other interesting styles to train against. Likewise, you all are here, saying that something that the gods want stopped will happen here. I have faith in my Lady."

"Oh, I guess that would be a pretty good reason," Tera says, now regretting asking the question, as much for Salomae's sake as hers, though she tries her best to hide that from the others.

"Anyway, do you think we should just get two plates and split them if we're going to be getting more to eat," she asks, changing the subject as quickly as she could.


Male Varisian Bard 4/Swashbuckler 1 | AC 18, T 13, FF 15 | hp 39/39 | Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4 (+2 vs charm & compulsion) | CMD 17 | Initiative +3 | Perception +8 | Bardic performance 15/15 | Hero points 3/3 | Agile Feet 4/4
Spells:
1st 5/5 | 2nd 2/2

Breathless and half-stunned, Zache finds himself pulled back into the throng of dancers, staggering and reeling. It takes him a few moments to regain his equilibrium, for his eyes to adjust to the young beauty dancing with him. With a grin and a wink at the men who'd found his spill so amusing, he takes the lead, swaying and spinning the girl back to where he'd left Roakkad.

"Is that a traditional Shriikirri-Quah dance?" he calls, grinning, over the music and mirth. Reaching down, he offers a hand, helping the large man to his feet and nudging him in the direction of another young woman dancing alone, before turning his attention back to his own partner, admiring the splash of her red hair in the colours around him.


Inactive

This was the first time Sal had heard this side of Kaede's journey to Sandpoint and though she tries not to, she can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

I guess it's easy enough to go with the flow when you've got a direct line to your superiors.

That's not fair Sal and you know it.

"I'm glad that your Lady gave you such clear guidance," she finally says. And she meant it too, despite her other feelings.

It's bad enough to be that far from home, but to pile uncertainty on top of it? I wouldn't wish that on anyone.

"Splitting plates seems like a fine idea," she agrees, thankful that Tera's focus was on the food again. "We could always just pile up a little from each stall and then share. Kinda like a banquet, right?"


Shoanti Marked of Sarenrae; HP 40/40 4NL, AC16 T13 FF13, Saves: F+9, R+8, W+4, Initiative +3, Perception +9

From stall to stall Kaelaah moved, trying a sample of food here and there, watching snippets of performances and, on one occasion trying his hand at a carnival sideshow game... All as a cover to his primary motivation, to hear word of his 'parents', if they weren't here in Sandpoint then it was, at least, likely that some of those who were here would know whether 'Dr Joulabario's Phantasmgorical Performances' had set up near them in recent months... Yet, for all of his efforts, Kaelaah has nothing to show - there is no word...

...they are wanderers - who is to say they are even still in Varisia? Yet, why do I feel so uneasy?

Seeing the suns traverse across the sky, the Shoanti realises there is little time before he is due back at the cathedral... And his stomach reminds him with a grumble that he hasn't really eaten today...

...I'll try for something near that music...

Ten minutes later, Kaelaah - a medley of roasted vegetables wrapped in a flatbread warming his hands, watches as Zache and Roakkad spin great circles theough the throng of dancing folk... When he catches their eye - he does somewhat stand out being so tall and with his flame-red hair, he nods in acknowledgement of them...

Kindred spirits in more ways than one.


HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

Roakkad smiles as Zache helps him to his feet.

"Not traditional, no. Maybe something new to share upon my return to Kaer Maga. A...souvenir, yes?"

Roakkad grunts in feigned surprise as Zache good-naturedly pushes him toward a lithe Varisian beauty. Roakkad does not recognize this creature--she must be visiting town for the festival. Her long auburn hair flows down to her waist and glides freely through the air as she spins and gyrates. Forgetting the dance, he simply stands before her and smiles dumbly. She giggles and turns away.

He is just about to move after her when, out of the corner of his eye, he catches sight of Kaelaah's distinctive, fiery locks.

The sklar skeklah-enok. He who wields the sun. To what affairs does he now turn the heat of his scrutiny? What captivates a mind consumed by a burning star?

Of all the marked, Roakkad has perhaps been most fascinated with Kaelaah. It is true, Kaelaah's Shoanti blood and tragic story strike a chord with him. But more than that, Roakkad respects the incredibly destructive power that Kaelaah seems to possess. Roakkad's people have long known of the devastating wildfires and emberstorms of the Cinderlands, while the elders of his own tribe still whisper of the fire wielded by the Ogres that invaded his homeland.

Were he not the chosen of a goddess, I would fear for us all.

He raises his staff in recognition and salute then, having forgotten the Varisian girl, approaches Kaelaah.

"Well met, Flame Speaker. Did you find what you seek among the festivities?"


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

Kaede frowns slightly when she notes both Tera's and Salomae's awkward pauses and the change in topic.

Well, I was asked....I know that the others have not had nearly the discussion with their patrons, the way I have with my Lady. I wish they were more verbose with them. She refrains from sighing before getting back to the tastier topic: luncheon.

"Sure, Kaede finally responses, more then willing to allow a subject change as well. "I'll see what I can sweet talk Amieko out of. Meet by the Cathedral's steps, yes?"


map of Sandpoint | current map

Everything that the girls sample is good but Ameiko's curried salmon steals the show. It almost seems a shame to have gotten it first because none of the other dishes quite live up to its perfectly balanced spicy richness. None of the other lines are quite as long either and before too very long they have quite a little collection between them: the curry, reefclaw gumbo, peppered venison and salted potatoes, a thin unleavened bread piled with roasted vegetables, a fried cake crusted in honey and cardamom, and a mug each of a sweet and refreshing ice wine. There is no shortage of men nearby to pay them attention, but their own attentions are focused enough on their conversation and food that they scarcely notice the glances and comments.

Kaelaah's time amidst the booths brings back many memories of earlier festivals with his family. Memories that seem bittersweet in their absence. There are people at a few different booths who recognize their name; all of them, it turns out, are members of one caravan and none of them can recall seeing his family in over a year. The news is so disappointing that he doesn't even notice the lanky man glaring and following him through the crowd. When he and Roakkad start talking the man begins to rethink whatever he had in mind and wanders off. Shoanti weren't always given the respect they were due in the cities of Varisia but their reputation as barbarians meant that most people thought twice about crossing them, particularly when there was more than one of them.

Meanwhile, Zache's dance was growing more intense. The beautiful young woman looked somewhat familiar, probably someone from town. Though she appeared innocent doing it, she was either an expert at brushing and pressing her soft body against his while moving or else the world's most erotically accident prone dancer. After another song ends she makes an exaggerated pout and says "I have to run, I'm already late! Thank you for the dance." Then with a mischievous glint in her emerald green eyes she presses every inch of her soft, warm body against his in an eager hug and whispers, "Look for me after the dedication and we can dance some more, somewhere a little more private," and runs off before he can respond.


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

Tera notes that she'd have to apologize to Kaede later when she sees the frown on the young woman's face. She had asked, and Kaede couldn't have known about the troubles Salomae and she were facing.

Still, the moment passed, and Kaede seemed to have let it pass this time.

"I guess we have a plan then," she says before she got out of line and headed for Jargie's stall.

===

It had taken a little doing, but when the four of them meet at the steps of the cathedral, all of them had managed to get enough to share between the four of them, and some extra bowls and plates to eat out or off of. Ameiko's cooking, as always, is the favorite dish.

"I wonder how she does it," Tera muses after stacking her dishes on the step beside her. Amazingly, perhaps, she had managed to keep her robes as clean as they were when she had put them on this morning. "It's the perfect blend of spicy, savoury, and sweet."

"Perhaps the recipe is in Abadar's vault," Elizabeth replies with a grin, "under the title of 'The Perfect Curried Salmon Recipe' or something else along those lines."

"If it is in there, it's the actually dish, I bet," Tera says with a smirk of her own.


Shoanti Marked of Sarenrae; HP 40/40 4NL, AC16 T13 FF13, Saves: F+9, R+8, W+4, Initiative +3, Perception +9

"Weaver of wind and wave... It is good to hear a familiar voice - there are so many new faces in Sandpoint this day", Kaelaah's face betrays a certain degree of disappointment when he tells Roakkad that, "No... What I sought was not to be found on this day". Looking beyond Roakkad and seeing Zache dancing with a strangely familiar beauty, the flame-haired Shoanti allows himself a smile, "I see you are having fun? The mayor foresaw that this would be the greatest Swallowtail yet... It would appear that he was right".

Kaelaah notes, looking back towards the cathedral and seeing the angle of the sun against it, that there is little time before they are due back with Father Zantus, "Roakkad Shrikkir-tsha, we must make haste... The dedication, the culmination of five years hardship, is nearly upon us... It would not do for us to be late".


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

"You assume there's a recipe the she followed. Cooking is an art, and if anything, Ameiko has shown she's a consummate artist on many occasions. " Kaede counters Elizabeth and Tera's claim, before nibbling on another bit of the salmon. "It would not surprise me to find out that she just cooked this the way that 'felt right', and 'reproducing' it would be subtly different each time. The food itself, on the other hand,... I can see a god stealing a helping as a example of perfection though."


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

"I wouldn't say Abadar would steal it. He and his clergy do not like thieves, after all. He would pay for it, though," Tera replies to Kaede's comment, though there's a bit of a smirk on her face that lets the Shelynite know she's only teasing her a little.

"I think we can all agree that Ameiko's dishes probably had spots in the First Vault, though, whether they are recipes or the actual dishes," she adds before sipping at her drink.

"Speaking of cooking," Elizabeth says, turning to Salomae and Kaede, "Have you heard about the time that got us banned from meal duty for the rest of eternity?"

"Oh no! Why'd you have to bring that up! Today's my birthday, you're supposed to be nice to me, you know," Tera groans in mock despair, mostly anyway.

Salomae:

Shortly after the cathedral's quarters were completed and everyone moved in, there was an incident that caused several of the clergy and acolytes to get sick. From all accounts, the food was so horrible that the people who made it were banned from the kitchen by Father Zantus. I'll leave the rest to your imagination


Inactive

"And either way, it does what it's meant to do - nourishes our bodies," Sal chimes in between mouthfuls of curried salmon. "Maybe she follows a recipe that isn't actually written down, like a secret family recipe, and she just adjusts and embellishes on the base of it. That sounds like something Ameiko would do."

At Elizabeth's question, she makes a face. "Heard about? More like lived it. I'm no cook, but uh...well, let's just say that mistakes were made that day. Won't go into all the gory details and I won't name names, but I think the cooks learned their lesson about leaving potato salad sitting out all day before serving it," she says dryly.


Male Varisian Bard 4/Swashbuckler 1 | AC 18, T 13, FF 15 | hp 39/39 | Fort +3, Ref +7, Will +4 (+2 vs charm & compulsion) | CMD 17 | Initiative +3 | Perception +8 | Bardic performance 15/15 | Hero points 3/3 | Agile Feet 4/4
Spells:
1st 5/5 | 2nd 2/2

Drunk on the dance and the touches from the young woman, Zache staggers back to Roakkad and Kaelaah, welcoming the latter with a clap on the shoulder that turns into a lean as his legs quiver from exertion. "Who was that?" he asks in bewilderment, a tired grin plastered across his face. "She was... well, she was something. That hair alone inspires poetry! And her hands..." He chuckles weakly, suddenly exhausted from his efforts. "How long was I there?" he asks suddenly, glancing at the sun in surprise.


Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1
Salomae Amsel wrote:
"Heard about? More like lived it. I'm no cook, but uh...well, let's just say that mistakes were made that day. Won't go into all the gory details and I won't name names, but I think the cooks learned their lesson about leaving potato salad sitting out all day before serving it,"

"Oh, if only that was the only thing that had gone wrong," Tera says with a nervous chuckle.

"Yeah, you must not have had the ham and eggs or the cream custard,"Elizabeth says, "I think it was the flapjacks that was the final straw for Father Zantus, though."

"And don't forget how livid brother Faustwick was when he messed up his coffee," Tera adds, "I don't think I've ever heard him say so many curses in a single breath since."

I hope this is as funny to read as it is to write. :)


HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

As Zache approaches, Roakkad chuckles.

"Yes, this swallow's tail festival is great fun. I have not seen the village this happy in all my time here. It makes my heart smile."

He turns to Zache, grinning. "Your pretty young companion seems in an especially good spirit. I think you have a new friend."

Tsharat swoops in over the crowd and lands deftly on his shoulder.

"Not angry with me anymore, hmm?" He taps her beak. "It is good to see you too."

He turns his head toward the square.

"Kaelaah is correct. It is time to rejoin the others." He taps his staff upon the earth. "Come."

He sweeps around, his dark green robe flowing, and begins to wade through the crowd.


Female NG Human(Tien-Min) Warpriest of Shelyn 5 | HP: 38/38 | AC: 20( 13Tch, 17 Fl) | CMB: +5, CMD: 19 | F: +8, R: +7, W: +9(+11 vs. Charm/Compulsion) | Init: +4 | Perc: +3, SM: +11 | Speed 20ft | Spells 1st: 5/5 2nd:2/3|Deflection Aura 1/1|Blessings 5/5|Fervor: 5/5| Active conditions: none

At the start of the story, Kaede is already glad that she wasn't here for the culinary catastrophe that the others are describing. Each further description only increases the relief until near the end of the listing, she gives off a pleasant sigh that she missed this fiasco. By the end, only one question is on her mind:

"How can you mess up coffee?"


map of Sandpoint | current map

The bells of the new Cathedral ring overhead, signalling that the dedication will soon begin, just as the boys are headed up the stairs towards the girls. "Well, that's my cue," Elizabeth says before running off with the rest of the fried cake still in hand.

When the marked enter the Cathedral they find Father Zantus already moving anxiously among the clergy. Nearly everyone who lived at the temple had some role to play in the dedication and he seemed to be making it a point to speak to each group about the responsibilities. The marked are the last group he approaches but he wastes no time when he gets to them: "I trust you're all ready?" he asks, "Zache, your greeting will be right after I open, so be prepared to rise quickly. Tera and Kaede, you know you're songs and your priests will introduce you for them. Kaelaah, remember to do the whole reenactment before you light the sacrificial pyre. Roakkad, Salomae, you're reading have been written out and left at the podium...' With a deep breath he centers and relaxes himself then adds, "Shall we?" before leading the procession out to the stage.

There's a fresh wave of energy that runs through the crowd as the clergy take to the stage and the clamor in the crowd only seems to be growing louder. Looking one last time at the priests and the marked for confirmation that they are ready, Father Zantus rises and strides to the podium. He clears his throat and, borrowing a page from the Mayor's book, strikes to thunderstones sharply together. The resulting boom immediately secures everyone's attention, but only for a moment... before he even has a chance to speak there is a second boom as an unattended wagon forty feet south of the stage erupts in a gout of flame! Five goblins wearing cloaks that are now aflame, and chanting something sort of musical in Goblinish, emerge from beneath the wagon and begin to move into the crowd. The people gathered begin screaming and trying to flee from burning menaces, meanwhile a confused Father Zantus looks to the marked at a loss...

Welcome to our first combat. All 5 goblins are about 40' from the far end of the stage (50-60' from your seats); moving across the stage is easy enough but moving through the panicking crowd will count as difficult terrain; the goblins also currently have soft cover from the bodies between the stage and them.

**Initiative**
Kaede: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Kaelaah: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (6) + 3 = 9
Roakkad: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
Salomae: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (16) + 4 = 20
Tera: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (10) + 3 = 13
Zache: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7

goblins: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10

Roakkad, Salomae, and Tera can act now; everyone else has to wait for the goblins...


Inactive

Before the Mayhem

"Apparently by using cream that's gone sour and grabbing the salt instead of the sugar," Sal says with a shake of her head. She then glances up and takes note of the position of the sun in the sky.

"As much as I hate to cut this stroll down memory lane short, it should be time for the dedication before much longer so we'd better hurry and finish our meal. It wouldn't look good for any of us to be late."

Mayhem!

As the entire ceremony is suddenly turned upside down, Sal's first instinct is to reach for her bow...but she quickly registers that with the crowd fleeing in all directions it would be too risky to try taking shots at the goblins. Instead, she draws her rapier and hustles to close the distance between the goblins and herself.

Drawing her rapier as part of her move action; double-moving so I guess she'll go the first 40 feet normally, leap off the stage and then move another uh...5 feet or so through the crowd, I think.


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Female Human Arcanist 3/Inquisitor 1 | Hero Points: 1/3 | HP: 19/19, NL: 0 | AC 14/13/11, Cold Resistance 1 | F+4 R +5 W+8 | Per: +10 | Init: +3 | Bolts: 4, Arrows: 14, Shocking Grasp: 21, Silent Image: 5, Magic Missile: 15
Spells and Abilities:
Arcanist Spells - 1st: 1/5 | Inquisitor Spells - 1st: 1/2 | Arcane Reservoir: 4/6, Judgments: 1/1

How not to boil water
"Well, that was Sister Hera's coffee. Brother Faustwick takes his black and we still don't know how we screwed that up," Tera says while rubbing the back of her neck while Elizabeth stifles a giggle at the arcanist's embarrassment.

Let the Mayhem begin.
Tera's first instinct is to let out one of the curses she'd heard from Brother Faustwick as she realizes that her options are a bit limited. She has no bolts, thanks to the ever-frugal leader of Sandpoint's Abadarian clergy. She wasn't expected to keep the peace, and she was a mage. What need did she have for crossbow bolts? She'd only been allowed the crossbow because it was part of a priest's garb. It was meant to be ceremonial despite being fully functional.

She also didn't have much in the way of spells that could help. The main offensive spell in her book was one that didn't play well with crowds. She could swap one of her cantrips out, but that took time she doesn't think she had. That left her with the spells she had left. Her cantrips would be next to useless for the moment, none of them were of much use in combat. Her other spells, a spell that turned a person into a giant for a short time and another that could cause a person to think of her as their best friend for a short time, weren't what you'd prepare if you expected to be facing goblins in the middle of a crowd.

"I really need to find that spell that lets you hit what ever you can see," she mutters as she stands and turns to Kaede. "Ready to be twice as tall," she asks as she pulls a vial from the pouch on her belt and pours its contents into her other hand. She blows gently on the iron filings piled into her open palm as she returns the vial to her belt pouch. The dust swirls and takes the shape runes arranged in circles, lines, and other shapes.

"到达的天空!"

The words echo with power, cutting through the din and thundering in Kaede's ears as Tera places her hand surrounded by the golden runes on the Shelynite's shoulder. The runes flash and Kaede can feel the power coursing through her now, urging her body to grow.

Cast Enlarge Person on Kaede. You're glaive now does 2d8 per hit. :D


HP 14/18 AC 15 TAC 12 | F+4 R+2 W+6 | Perc +5 | SP 3/4 Res 1/1 | Spells 1st 1/2 (DC 15) | Hero Points 1/1
Tsharat:
HP 11/11 | AC 13 TAC 12 | F+2 R+3 W+4 | Perc +4 | jaws +3 (1d6+2 P), talon +3 (1d4+2 S)

Kaelaah.

Roakkad's heart skips a beat until he confirms his friend is on stage with him. As he whips around, he sees the tiny devils scurrying from beneath the wagon.

K(local): 1d20 + 9 ⇒ (2) + 9 = 11

Goblins.

Before he can move, Salomae, never ceasing to amaze, reacts with lightning speed, drawing her blade and rushing bravely into the crowd. Tera also moves fast, considering her crossbow, rolling her eyes, then whispering something to Kaede. He looks up to meet Kaede's eye as she begins to grow.

"Goblins! Get to safety!" he yells into the chaos.

Reaching into his beltpouch, he quickly locates the small strip of leather. He gestures, quickly muttering the incantation as a shimmering, protective field of force begins to surround his body. Gripping his staff tightly, he follows Salomae into the crowd.


Cast mage armor on self.
Move toward Sal.


map of Sandpoint | current map

GM Dice:
5d20 ⇒ (8, 9, 15, 11, 12) = 55, 2d3 ⇒ (1, 1) = 2

Roakkad stands and invokes his protective magic with surprising quickness. When Salomae darts off towards trouble he does his best to keep up. Then Tera rises and magically enlarges Kaede, who's chair creaks and cracks under her new weight.

Before anyone else even has a chance to react, the goblins continue to move. One of them moves across the street and starts using its burning cloak to try and light another wagon on fire. Another runs to a stand in the south east corner of the square and works to set it ablaze. The other three draw cruel looking rusty knives and head into the crowd; continuing their sing-song chant they hack away, two of them hitting and opening open wounds on the legs of shrieking spectators.

Everyone may act now. The goblin at the stall is 30' from the edge of the stage (40' from people who haven't moved) and can be reached without any difficult terrain. The three in the crowd are about 20' from the stage (30' from those who haven't acted; 15' from Sal who kind of ran past where they are now before pushing into the crowd) and all 20 of those feet will be difficult terrain (except for Sal who is sort of moving with the tide of the fleeing crowd). The goblin at the wagon is 45' feet from the stage if you pass through 20' of difficult terrain, or 60' (with no charge lane) if you go around.


Shoanti Marked of Sarenrae; HP 40/40 4NL, AC16 T13 FF13, Saves: F+9, R+8, W+4, Initiative +3, Perception +9

Too far... and too many people - I daren't let my flame burn... Not here!!! ...Not yet!!!

"Your kind are not welcome here... Go back to whence you came... And you may yet survive the day!!!", as Kaelaah moves towards the goblin at the stall, he shouts and frantically waves at it... Trying somehow to get the attention of the green-skinned pyromaniac...

Move within 10 feet of the Goblin at the stall - shouting (free action) to get it's attention - and then Total Defense (AC currently 19).

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