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"C-could I just get some water, please," Tera asks, valiantly ignoring the soft growling from her middle.
The server sizes up Tera for a moment then forces half a smile and nods. She hurries off to the kitchen and returns surprisingly quickly with a huge tray. She sets the correct food in front of each one of the marked. When she comes to Zache she sets down two plates of breaded and fried fish bits- one directly in front of him and one far enough to his right that it's basically in front of Tera. "Sorry- cook made too much for one plate," she says giving the Abadaran a little wink. When she passes out drinks Tera receives a mug of normal water from the cistern (though even that seems a bit foul after becoming accustomed to the pure cool water conjured fresh daily at the cathedral); those who just ordered rum receive a cheap dark rum that many other patrons seem to be drinking.
"Th-thank you," Tera says to the waitress the smell was too good and her stomach too empty. It really was good, even with the funny aftertaste from the water. Barely ten minutes later, she is holding her head in her hands and groaning in despair.
"Brother Fusswick is going to kill me," she moans, apparently unaware of her letting the not so charming nickname she'd come up with slip.
Zache suppresses a smile at the slyness of the server, though he can't help winking at Tera as he nudges the plate slightly further to his right. The food is good, if unusual to him, and the chatter and din of the tavern helps him relax after the hectic few days he's had.
He looks up from his plate at Roakkad's words, pausing thoughtfully as he washes down his catfish with a swig of rum (which burns his throat on the way down, not that he was about to admit it). "I honestly can't say I ever have," he says thoughtfully, before grinning. "While I've been known to try anything once, how about someone else tries it with me? I have some unwanted chores I could wager!"
"Chores..." Roakkad harumphs, remembering that he will need to clean the hatchery later. He loves the birds, but does not understand the need to confine them all together in such a small space. It makes such a mess...
He takes a sip of his milk, enjoying the savory sweetness of the coconut and listening to the salty language around him.
"A good proposal, yes. Let us see who...goes green first, hmm?"
"You can't be serious," Tera says flatly as she looks up, glancing from the tank, to Roakkad, to Zache. "Why would you wait until after you ate to do that? That just wastes food!"
"Ah, but I have not eaten, " Roakkad says, raising his cup. "Besides, I hear that Desnans are made of tough stuff!"
Looking around the room, Kaelaah could see how rum was supposed to be drunk... a small sip to savour the taste and then a quaff to enjoy its warming powers... but, despite his best efforts, he couldn't get past the smallest of sips...
...this... this is vile... and yet everyone believes it to be some form of nectar... and they are talking about the slime as being horrific!!! Surely this is worse...
Zache is oblivious to Kaelaah's discomfort and Tera's fidgeting - after all, there's a challenge to be had. "Alright, let's do this," he grins. "If I hold out longer, you have to scrub the windows for a week." His mind made up, he holds up a hand to attract the server. "Two glasses from Norah's tank!" he calls.
The Hagfish suddenly, and startlingly, goes silent.
The serving girl looks to their table with a raised eyebrow and calls back, "Two waters, coming up!" All at once the bar bursts into cheers (and laughter) in response.
A crowd quickly forms around the table with curious onlookers, gamblers laying bets on everything from whether either will finish to who will retch first and whose glass will be lower at their retching, and one very interested redhead. The serving girl forces her way through the crowd with two mugs in one hand and a leather pouch in the either. "A silver each," she declares as much to the crowd as to the two young men. Once both coins have been deposited in the small sack, she sets the mugs down in front of Zache and Roakkad.
Kaelaah immediately reconsiders his comparison of the rum to the slime... the contents of the mugs looks like slightly cloudy water but when the mugs hit the table the liquid jiggles more than sloshes and runs slowly down the side of the mug like an errant snot creeping down the wall after an ill-timed sneeze. The smell is, perhaps, even worse, bearing a notable similarity to rotting fish but with a clear note of the sour sulfurous stink of a newborn's soiled diaper.
"The rules're simple," the server states, "if ya finish it an' keep it down all the silver's yours. In th'unlikely case ya both finish an' keep it down, whoever finished first gets the coin. Good luck boys!" Another round of cheers (and even more laughs) go up. Bets are being exchanged frantically and so often that it seems impossible anyone can actually remember them all. The sultry young woman from town positions herself behind Zache and rubs his shoulders a little. "Lady Luck smiles on you," she says encouragingly, then she leans in and whispers something else.
Every eye is fixed on the two marked and their mugs as the challenge begins...
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Roakkad laughs loudly at Salomae's joke, though he grows a bit quieter once he sees the "drink" jiggling in the cup before him.
"Well then, a good drink needs a good toast. Let us think..." He muses, rubbing his chin. "The Shoanti are not one people, but seven--The Seven Quahs. We are not enemies, but neither are we brothers. At least, not until we claim one another." He raises his cup, the sickly slime running over his hand. "We are not yet brothers, Zache of the Endless Sky, but I think, by the end of this drink, we shall be! Storval ekbitel nalharest! We walk the land as brothers!"
With that, Roakkad takes a big swig.
______
"Yeah. May--" is all that Tera gets out before the challenge begins, but her attention isn't on Zache and Roakkad for long. As the redheaded young woman begins rubbing Zache's shoulders, Tera begins to frown.
Why am I acting this way? Am... am I jealous? Am I jealous of her looks? Her voice? Or is it just because she's rubbing Zache's shoulders?
Those thoughts flicker though her mind in an instant, and are gone. Something rubs her the wrong way about this girl fawning over Zache. The guy who listened to her darkest fears, the guy who wrote her a poem on her birthday. The guy that was sweet and charming and had unknowingly stolen a little piece of her heart.
"Kaede, Sal, can I borrow two silvers? I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the cathedral," she asks the other two women quietly, but there's a note of urgency in her voice.
At the sight of the liquid in the mug, Zache almost considers backing out.
Almost.
Then the purse is passed around, Roakkad's toasting the two of them, and the competitive part of his brain takes over. His grin widens by a couple of molars, and he raises his own jiggling mug.
"We'll drain, or drink, or sip, or chug,
BUt empty now our hagfish mugs!" he laughs by way of a contribution, tipping forward slightly when the woman's hands drop to his shoulders.... then her voice. The words run down his spine like lightning; his mouth suddenly feels dry, his head light. He has to win this.
Almost choking on the disgusting 'liquid', he tilts his head back and quickly downs as much of his mug as he can.
’Brothers’, Roakkad? This 'ritual' would make the Desnan worthy of the name?
Incredulous, Kaelaah watches as Zache and Roakkad endure the test placed in front of them…
The two young men make a big show of toasting, then steel themselves and pour the sludge into their mouths. Laughter erupts, and coin starts changing hands as they both immediately fall into fits of gagging. Roakkad manages to swallow his first gulp before his throat tightens and his stomach begins convulsing. Zache has to let his mouthful empty back into the cup as he lowers it because his first convulsion is so strong it doubles him over. They both spend the next half minute struggling to keep the contents of their stomachs in through gagging and convulsing.
Amazingly, and to the delight of half the gamblers, they both manage to fight through the fits and begin choking down the slime once more. Fueled by their competition and the cheer of the crowds they both recover heroically and with new resolve they begin chugging down the stinking viscous mess. In less than a minute they both drop their empty mugs to the table, though Roakkad's one swallow lead holds and he finishes just barely in the lead.
Much more coin changes hands and congratulations and complaints begin flying. The redheaded woman behind Zache calls out, "Incredible!" and wraps her arms around him in an embrace that presses her generous figure tightly against his back. For a moment the two are full of joy and triumph, then the pit in their guts moves. The color quickly drains from both men's face and with one final violent convulsion both lose their tentative grip on the contents of their stomachs. Simultaneously both erupt and the mess splatters each other along with Kaelaah (who is seated to Roakkad's left) and Tera (who is seated to Zache's right). The beautiful young woman laughs softly at Tera's unfortunate situation then quietly says, "That's a shame, I was really looking forward to celebrating with you. Maybe we can find another reason another time..." before kissing his neck (sending more lightning down his spine). She stands and walks away as groans of disappointment and disgust ring out throughout the bar.
People finish settling their bets and head back to what they were doing before and soon the marked are left alone with their mess. The serving girl brings over a few rags and a mop and hands them to brave challengers saying, "Sorry boys, looks like these're the only things ya win today."
Kaelaah is spattered with the contents of Roakkad's stomach... his normally pristine white tunic stained with a spectacular explosion of greens and oranges... there is nothing for it, the smell is too vile and the thought of wearing the garb too repulsive, Kaelaah takes the tunic off and throws it in with the rest of the rags...
"Brothers, gather your thoughts, clean yourselves up and get some water... neither of you are up to this chore... I will take your duties".
Grabbing a mop and tossing warmed water over the floor, the Shoanti - standing well over six feet and ever more imposing stripped to the waist - starts to clean... Oblivious to whatever else is going on, he loses himself to work. Normally demure and detached from the other Marked, it is likely that none of them have ever seen the sunburst scorched across his chest before - unmistakably an orb with stylised flames, the mark sits over his heart...
After watching the display, and getting covered in vomit, Tera suddenly has second thoughts about her ability to not embarrass herself.
What is wrong with me? The thought runs through her head as she tries not to gag as she cleans herself up. Thankfully, she'd memorized a cantrip that came in handy and soon she's helping Kaelaah clean up the mess, while trying not to stare at his mark.
"Ugh, after that I'm not even tempted to follow through on it," she whispers back to Sal. "Just overcome by temporary insanity is all," she mutters to no one in particular, though she's loud enough for both Zache and Sal to hear her.
"'M fine," Zache mumbles, leaning his elbows on the table and resting his head in his hands, face red with embarrassment. "'Ve had worse. Should've tried Aunt Tawnie's mystery casserole." He swallows hard, wipes his face on a scarf (which he then cleans with a wave of his fingers) and carefully gulps from a mug of water. "Don't get to my age without learning a few things," he laughs shakily, setting to helping clean up, ignoring Kaelaah's request - though the ostentatious mark is harder to ignore.
"Temporary insanity is right," he sighs, glancing apologetically at Tera. "Sorry you got caught up in that. I'd offer to make it up to you, but I might need some fresh air first," he adds, forcing a half-grin.
"Ooohhhh..." Roakkad clutches his head with one hand and his stomach with the other. He is somehow simultaneously ghostly-white and beet-red. "Maybe this...this was not such a good idea, yes? No hagfish stew for a while." He climbs to his knees, clearly shamed and embarrassed. "Kaelaah, no.." He tries to push his friend away from the mess, but is clearly not up to the task. Instead he sighs heavily, a tint of green now introducing itself to his kaleidoscopic complexion, grabs the nearest rag, and begins to clean.
What will Brother Edrus think?
"Fair enough, let me just help you out of here so you don't keel over on your way out," Tera replies as she finishes cleaning up. She wraps one arm around his back while her other hand puts his arm over her shoulders.
"I think you own Kaelaah some new clothes, by the way," she says with a chuckle, "Even with magic, it's hard to get stains out of white cloth."
”A little too late for saving my garb I’m afraid…”, Kaelaah cracks a smile as he offers his grotesquely filthy tunic, used as a rag during the cleaning, for ‘inspection’. ”Best that it be consigned to flame, sister…”, and as Tera watches, wisps of flame dance along Kaelaah’s wrist towards the wretched fabric in his hand… he catches himself and the flames cease.
As soon as the chores are complete, Kaelaah offers Roakkad a shoulder to lean on, ”Come brother… time to go home”.
How does he do that? It's... fascinating.
Tera manages to chuckle at Kaelaah's suggestion. "Lucky you there's a bonfire just a short walk from here."
The marked don't realize just how much time passed in the Hagfish until they emerge into the market square and find the bonfire gone. The crew of laborers is busy tossing dirt back into the hole they dug, which now also contains a mountain of white hot coals and a giant boar carcass wrapped in a heap of wet corn husks.
Picking up their pace, they arrive back at the Cathedral just in time for evening prayers. Many of the prayers each evening are the same or drawn from a small list of options, all of which every acolyte has committed to memory. There are also opportunities for those leading the service to offer extemporaneous prayers. Sisters Hera and Callinova are leading tonight's service and both give thanks for the hunt: the priestess of Desna for the party's good fortune and safe travels; the priestess of Erastil for a successful hunt and the bounty it has provided for the community.
After prayers have ended quite a few of the initiates make it a point to congratulate the marked before leaving, and several ask if everyone is feeling alright after noticing Zache and Roakkad's current coloring.
"Certainly not one of your better ideas," Zache chuckles to Roakkad. "One I can go without following for a while." Grateful for the physical support Tera offers, he he makes his way out of the Hagfish, gulping the clean, fresh air. "That's not a bad idea. I'll offer later on; I don't think now's the time." With a mischievous twinkle in his eyes (somewhat countered by his pallor), he adds,"Speaking of Kaelaah, looks like you can't keep your eyes off him!"
Thankfully for Tera, his attention is soon occupied elsewhere as the group makes their way back to the cathedral. The prayers are second nature to him, the same familiar, reassuring words he's heard so many times. After assuring the fifth initiate that yes, he is fine, and no, he won't be trying hagfish water again any time soon, he's ready for an escape.
Roakkad leans heavily on his staff, barely noticing Tsharat's familiar weight on his shoulder. He all but crawls back into the cathedral, going through the motions of evening prayer but far too preoccupied by his shame.
He ignores the curious looks and comments, simply waving his hand as he hurries back to his quarters, change his robes, and perform his own, private apology to his God.
There are many duties that Kaelaah could be attending to this evening, all of them infinitely preferable to cleaning the floor of the Hagfish, but after a little food and evenng prayers, the Shoanti suddenly feels the excitement of the day overtake him... exhausted, it is all he can do to stumble to bed... and dream...
Embers and sparks in the darkness - a crushing, enveloping silence suddenly torn asunder by the sound of hooves... galloping and whinnying, a vast Shoanti hunting party bearing down upon him...
A hand, young and unmarked by years of work, goes up... "Brothers... Brothers... I am here Brothers... Take me with you... Take me home Brothers"... but now flames are climbing the wrist, coalescing around the outstretched hand.... building and intensifying... so very hot but without pain... and then, the flames pour from the hand... lighting up the darkness with an inferno...
And now the horses are frightened... voices shouting in a strange yet familiar language are screaming... and then the host roars over the dreamer... skin, hair, metal, leather... all aflame...
...and then darkness once more... and the crushing, enveloping silence...
Returning to the cathedral gave Kaede alot to think about. That... place was so unlike anything she'd ever dealt with... It was the most foreign thing she's yet to deal with. Heck, this day has been the most foreign thing she's dealt with. The hunt, including Roakkad's reaction to it, The young lord, the Hagfish..... All in all, she's thrown completely out of her depth. Why am I here again? She comes to find herself thinking, neither for the first nor the last time.
With a pensive expression, Kaede returns to the cathedral. She's deep enough in her own thoughts that they distract her enough to lag significantly behind the others. As such, she reaches the cathedral at the last possible moment, and stays near the back of the congregation for once, trying to gather her thoughts. Thankful afterward that she wasn't called to sing, the young Tien finds herself an out of the way corner and just thinks, clutching her glaive as if it's a lifeline to her. Only after an extended period of musing does she finally turn to her cell, hopeful that sleep will either give her some answers, or at least some calming rest.
"You're all of the age now where men will be taking notice of you. Some women take to that like fish to water and, well, some are scared to get their feet wet. None of you have taken any vows of chastity and its good for the community for pious women to marry and have children. We make the best mothers," she says with a wide proud grin. "If Lord Foxglove's worst sin is that he's doted on more than one woman he's a fine sight better than most men. As for the hunt, that is a surprise... I thought for sure those two Shoanti boys would be in their element..."
She thoughtfully considers the news for a moment then adds, "They had no trouble killing goblins or destroying undead, maybe they were just overcome by a sense of being disconnected from their own traditions? Or maybe their calling is only to protect others... I'll discuss this with Father Zantus, and you let me know if there are any more developments. Now, about being productive... the gods value different things. You have truly brought Erastil's blessings on us- I don't remember the last hunt that was that successful and the whole community will benefit from it. Sarenrae is concerned with redemption and healing, so perhaps Kaelaah will feel better tomorrow when he sees the effect the feast has on the city's spirit. There will be games of chance and plenty of new things for Zache to see, and the crowds will be great for trade which Tera should appreciate. I wouldn't worry too much, I think they'll come around. Except maybe Roakkad- those Gozrens can't ever seem to make up their minds how they feel, fickle as the wind they are..."
A warmth, not the searing pain of fire unrestrained but the soothing warmth of a welcoming hearth washes over you as a golden light rolls outward from it. The sliver bulges and rounds until it becomes clear- the rising sun.
It claims you... overwhelms you until the darkness and the silence seem a distant memory...
With a profound sense of belonging you settle back into a peaceful slumber.
"I-I have no idea what you're talking about," Tera lies, rather badly, at Zache's observation. Her face burns a dull crimson while she helps Zache walk back.
I'm tired. That's all. I'm just tired and my fatigue is causing me to act out of sorts. Everything will be better in the morning.
===
"Ugh! What is wrong with me?!"
Tera flops belly-first onto her bed after changing into a nightgown. She'd barely managed to make it through her prayers without messing up, and every time she thought she'd managed to at least get control of herself, she'd caught herself starting to wonder what it'd be like to be with Zache, or anyone really.
Still today was finally over, and she'd feel better after a good night's sleep.
Even after washing her face and trying to fix her hair, Tera looked a mess when she came down for breakfast the next morning. Dark bags under her eyes hinted at a fitful night's sleep. First had been the dream about Zache which had been the first one to wake her up. The second one had been about Aldern. The third had turned into some sort of weird fantasy where all of the men in the cathedral suddenly was madly in love with her. That had lead to the nightmare about Faustwick finding out about the end of her apprenticeship.
Remembering that one had made concentrating while preparing her spells, and now that she had finished, the full of her attention could be given over to fretting about it.
I have to tell him. It's the right thing to do and he should find out from me, not anyone else.
B-but... I don't...
I have to
"I know I have to, but what's Brother Fusswick gonna do when I tell him," She says out loud as she buries her head in her hands.
"Indeed, what am I going to do if I find out?"
Tera is on her feet and turned around without any memory of how she got there. Her face pales as it hits her that she'd used her nickname for the Abadarian priest where he could hear it. Worse than that, he probably wouldn't relent until she'd told him everything that was bothering her, and some of that was not his business, but some of it could been seen as heresy, and the thought of where that could lead was not one that Tera was up to following.
"B-brother Faustwick! I... uh, I didn't see you, p-please forgive my rudeness," she says quickly while curtseying to him.
"I brought you a receipt for the coins you left to pay for my bolts," the priest says flatly holding out a small square of parchment.
Standing rigidly in the doorway he continues, "I am aware of my reputation. And, you are not the first student to twist my name thusly. At your age it must seem far easier and far more enjoyable to be carefree and careless like the Desnans, but there is virtue and efficacy in order that they will never fully grasp... Come with me, I want to show you something."
Walking stiffly and silently Brother Faustwick leads Tera to his suite. When they arrive he invites her in to the sitting room and points out a large painting on the wall. It is not a particularly artistic piece but it adequately portrays a small coastal city. "This is Westport. It sits on the shore of Lake Ocata in the Mwangi Jungle. Thirty years ago two tribes fought over the mouth of that river you see there, despite it being more than large enough to sustain both. There was virtually no commerce and the only hope anyone there had for healing or spiritual guidance with a single eccentric shaman. Through purposeful business dealings, and the meticulous record keeping for which I am often faulted, I was able to amass enough wealth and influence to build this. Today members of over a dozen tribes live or do business in Westport, the whole region is experiencing a peace and prosperity unlike anything in memory, and the shrine of Abadar has grown to a full-fledged church with a local convert serving as priest. I may not be as much 'fun' as some of the other priests but you were chosen by the Master of the First Vault and I must assume that means you have some capacity to appreciate the value of this."
Tera meekly takes the paper as every instinct tells her to run, but self-discipline had been one of the things that she'd prided herself on. Color returns to her face as she follows the priest into his office, and by the time she steps into his office, her face is red with shame. A shame that makes his last sentence cut deep.
"Was I chosen to be a priestess," Tera asks looking at her feet. "Or was I chosen to be an example of what not to do?"
"Why are you still so fixated on the priesthood?" Brother Faustwick answers with an uncharacteristic note of compassion. "There are a great many opportunities to serve between priestess and cautionary tale. Perhaps your calling is to learn the financial acumen to create a city of your own one day; perhaps it is to fight for the preservation of a society; perhaps it is to one day serve this city or another as a politician. I do not know to what you are called, but I am certain that obsessing over that which you are not is of no benefit to you."
He pauses for a moment to allow the young sister to absorb what he has said. "Now," he continues, "tell me that which you know you must so that we can assess your problem and deal with it."
The parchment whooshes as Roakkad swiftly unfurled it across his desk. The pale yellow light from his lamp is barely sufficient to work with. He taps it with his finger, and the entire contraption begins to glow, increasing the light five-fold.
Behind him, Tsharat snoozes on her perch, her head tucked in the fluffed feathers of her back.
He calmy but swiftly assembles the necessary tools along the top of the table: a small, soot-covered clay bowl, a stone pestle, a sampling of dried pine needles from the beach trees, lamp oil, a collection of colored powders in vivid shades of red, yellow, and blue, and, most importantly, the boar gland. This last item was the one concession he had made to the hunt that day, insisting that Lord Foxglove retain it for him.
He sprinkles the pine needles in the clay bowl, ensuring they are spaced apart to allow plenty of air between them. He tips a candle into his lamp flame to ignite it, then transfers the flame to the bowl. The scent of burnt pine quickly fills the room, the heady smoke burning his nostrils. They burn quickly, leaving a fragrant ash behind. To this he adds a small amount of lamp oil, a sprinkling of the powders, and the boar gland, grinding it all together into a paste. A few more drops of oil, and the mixture has formed a thick, dark liquid.
Satisfied with the consistency, he sets the bowl aside, draws the parchment before him, and lifts his quill. Delicately dipping the feather's hollow tip into his ink, he begins to scribe. His hand moves swiftly, practiced, for he has done this many times before. The arcane incantation takes form through a series of symbols, diagrams, and directives. The spell is quite familiar to him, being one of the very first that Tsharat taught him, so long ago in the vast chambers of the Therassic Spire, the Great Library. He looks over to her sleeping and smiles.
Returning to the parchment, he finishes the scroll with a series of illustrations, something he has grown fond of doing. He favors feathers and clouds, generally, but tonight is different. He frowns in concentration, struggling to recall the details, and trying to get the proportions right. He is not an artist.
Finally he sits back, admiring his work. On the parchment before him, the fearsome visage of the dire boar stands, proud and strong. Its mane flows freely in an unseen wind, its wise eyes gleaming fiercly ahead.
"You are still alive," he whispers out loud. "Your spirit is still alive." He places his hand on his amulet, Galjit's parting gift, and closes his eyes. He prays for courage.
"My apprenticeship with Ilisoari Gandethus ended the day of the Swallowtail Festival," Tera says as plainly as she can while focusing on the toes of her boots.
"I am aware," the priest answers equally plainly. When Tera looks up in surprise he explains, "I met with Master Gandethus regularly for updates on your education. In what do you plan to invest those daily hours now that you will no longer be studying at the Academy?"
"I..." Tera begins, but the words catch in her throat. She stands there in silence for a moment longer before clearing her throat and trying again. "I don't know. I always thought, always assumed, really, that you would want to use that time to train me in channeling divine power."
When the morning comes, Kaelaah is well-rested… buoyant even… pointedly choosing the most pristine of his white tunics, he dresses and heads to morning prayers.
"You are seventeen now," Brother Faustwick instructs Tera, "many women are married and keeping their own house by your age. I believe the time has come for you to begin making your own decisions about what you will learn and how you will use that knowledge. Obviously, the vows you've taken will still demand some obedience, and I expect that you will continue in your responsibilities for chores and assisting in prayers and other gatherings as all here do, but you are capable of assuming responsibility for your training from now on."
"That said, I do believe that investing the aforementioned time in further study of divine magic is a wise decision. I have long said that you would master the techniques far more quickly if you weren't practicing the arcane arts concurrently. My own training in divine magic is more specialized* than will be of the utmost benefit for you if you are prepared to truly commit to your studies. I will arrange special tutoring for you with Sister Amet'Ra if you would like?"
"I-is it okay if I think it over for a bit," Tera asks.
Tera walks towards the square, the smell of roast boar filling the air as she drew closer. It wasn't a long walk, but the young mage was taking her time, walking slowly as she contemplated what lay ahead. She had a new set of doubts to add to those already on her mind, and defeating them was proving a tough challenge. Still, it was a nice day and if Ameiko did as well as she normally did, lunch was going to be spectacular.
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Morning prayers are lead by Brother Augustino and Sister Callinova. This is the favorite combination of many students because their services tend to be joyful and exciting. With all the anticipation of the coming festivities, this service is among the most encouraging and enjoyable anyone can remember. Afterwards everyone sets about their morning chores with a smile, and at eleven o'clock return to their rooms to dress for the feast.
The cathedral empties as the marked, along with the priests and all of the initiates gather in the street and walk together down to the Market Square. The aroma as they draw close is unbelievable- smoke and spice and the succulent smell of sizzling meat. The square is packed. It seems the whole city has turned out, and the attitude here is even more jubilant than it had been at the Cathedral. In the center of the square the pit has been dug once more and the giant boar removed. Ameiko is overseeing the final steps of preparation and Lord Foxglove and the Mayor are chatting nearby. Despite its size, the crowd parts to let Father Zantus and the marked through. Though they are used to receiving attention from curious and superstitious people the marked are hardly prepared for the reception they receive: people clap and cheer and shout praises and thank yous as the group makes its way towards the founder of the feast.
When Aldern spots the High Priest and his hunting companions he climbs up on a table and signals for quiet. It takes a minute for quiet to come as a round of cheers and applause goes erupts for the young nobleman. When some semblance of quiet does settle in he calls out, "Thank you people of Sandpoint! It's truly an honor to celebrate with you all today. While the Foxgloves are counted among the nobility of Magnimar rather than Sandpoint you have welcomed me as one of your own and I thank you for your hospitality. And I thank Mayor Deverin, for allowing us to tear up the center of the square to make this feast possible; fear not, it'll be put back together before market day. Now, many of you know my reputation as a hunter but I can't take credit for this alone. Your gods and their marked servants went with us- and together with them we were able to find and take down the famous Tickwood Boar!" Another round of cheers erupts, when it dies down he continues, "We must be sure also to thank Ameiko for preparing the boar for us, along with a few other dishes I've sponsored. But you're not all here to hear me talk so I'll ask Father Zantus to grace us with a blessing and then we can eat!"
Aldern can barely get off the table for all the people shaking his hand and clapping his back. The buzz of an excited crowd grows as Father Zantus makes his way to Aldern and shakily up onto the table. Raising his hands he calls out, "Starsong, you have blessed Lord Foxglove and his hunt with great fortune; bless us all as we celebrate that good fortune: with new experiences today, with luck for the coming days, and with safe travels home whether we live near or far." The moment he finishes speaking the buzz of the crowd breaks out once more, this time accompanied by the rhythmic chopping of meat cleavers and the clacking of wooden plates as Ameiko and her helpers begin the monumental task of feeding the throngs.
Not really knowing what do with himself and with some lingering feelings about not having contributed towards the hunting of the boar, Kaelaah makes his way through the gathered crowds and, taking a place amongst Ameiko's helpers, starts to hand out plates of the delicious smelling boar...