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For 5 years the faithful of Sandpoint have worshiped their Deities in temporary structures after the previous temple burned to the ground in a mysterious fire. After years of hard work from the dedicated citizens of Sandpoint, the new temple is finally complete. All that remains is to renew the temples blessings from the gods at the Swallowtail Festival, and it will be as if the Sandpoint fire had never happened.
The Swallowtail Festival begins promptly as schedules on the Autumn Equinox. The square before the newly erected temple becomes crowded as locals and travellers arrive. Several merchant tents featuring food, cloths, crafts and souvenirs are prepared to meet the incoming crowd. Once a respectable turnout has arrived the opening speech takes place featuring four keynote speakers. The first to step up to the podium is an overly cheerful woman featuring a large smile.
MAYOR DEVERIN: “Welcome one and all to the Swallowtail Festival. For those of you who may not know me, I am Kendra Deverin, Mayor of Sandpoint. It’s good to see such a lovely turnout. Why even Larz Rovanky, Sandpoints most notorious workaholic has managed to pull himself away from the Tannery to join us in celebration.” The residence of Sandpoint erupt into a fit of wooting and cheering and laughlaughter at the joke. Everybody except for Larz that is.” It should go without say that this year’s festival is very special to us as we commemorate the grand opening of the new Temple. 5 years ago, tragedy struck our small town as fire claimed out last temple. However, we banded together and from the ashes, we have rebuilt! And now after years of planning and construction, our place of worship is open to you, the public! Please go forth and enjoy the celebration and keep in mind what this year’s festival stands for. Today marks a day for new beginnings.” The crowd claps and cheers. ”Next up is Sheriff Belor Hemlock with a word on safety.”
Mayor Deverin steps down as a large gruff man in uniform strides briskly in to take her place. His tone is considerably less cheerful than Mayor Deverin’s and he immediately brings the crowd down with his dour mood.
SHERIFF HEMLOCK: ”I just want to send a reminder out to be safe throughout the festival, especially tonight at this evening’s bonfire. We just got our new temple and I don’t want some drunken idiot burning it down again. In closing, I’d like a moment of silence to those who lost their lives in that nightmare of a fire 5 years ago.”
Sheriff Hemlock closes his eyes and looks at the floor of the stage for close to a minute. The crowd follows suit. Hemlock then walks off stage without announcing the next speaker. Mayor Deverin instantly pops up from her seat.
MAYOR DEVERIN: “And now we’d like to welcome Lonjiku Kaijitsu.” She begins clapping to welcome him. After a moment of waiting she speaks out again, ” Lonjiku?”. He does not come for his speech. Mayor Deverin slips back and whispers to her peers standing at the back of the stage, then returns to address the crowd. ”It appears Lonjiku has come down with a sudden illness and will not be able to present his speech today. Taking his place instead is Sandpoints own Showman Cyrdak Drokkus!”
Cyrdak moves up to center stage and entertains the crowd with various different acts. At the end he shamelessly plugs the Sandpoint Theater and promotes his play ”The Harpy’s Curse” taking place the following evening. Lastly, Father Zantus moves up to thank everyone before declaring that the Swallowtail Festival has officially begun!
The campaign begins here! Father Zantus has a special presentation planned for midday. Until then you are free to explore Sandpoint, Play Festival Games and go about your general business.
Zara looks on as excitment thrums through her body; once again to be able to perform. Hopeful, that she can make a name for herself she carefully plans out the day whilst the Sheriff drones on. 'So a few easy dances this morning, just to whet the appetite and get a bit of coin. Then I’ll wander around the festival; with a light lunch. As the afternoon and evening comes; I can do the "Dance of the Veils" to inspire the revellers before sending them home to their partners. And I can make a pretty profit.'
Her attention is brought back to the present by Cyrdak, the man is clearly skilful and she laughs lightly at the impersonations of various unknown towns-folk. Sure in their authenticity as she is in the slight caricature; her shining eyes scan the crowd. Children laugh and tug at their parents’ clothes eager to be at the games rather than listen to the talking; whilst the partners laugh and nudge each other in the ribs at the veracity of the impersonation.
One old man creases up when it's his turn to be 'mocked', he laughs so hard and slaps his thigh at the impression that another old-timer has to help him to stand. Zara smiles; truly this is a happy town.
The timbre of Cyrdak's voice lulls the crowd and Zara on the journey with him but it is soon cut off. She virtually groans as he stops; 'I must see this Harpy's curse, maybe even get a part in it.' she thinks so entertained is she by the oratory.
The crowd slowly disperses, to look around the stalls and see the entertainments. Zara drifts off, glad that yesterday she saw the organisers about a small pitch. A small area of ground to one side; where she has left a vivid purple sheet for her to dance upon. 'I'll just give a small taster for the people to enjoy for free, then later hopefully I can reap the fiscal rewards.'
Moving past a stall with a gold-fish scoop, the fishes trapped in their bowls just swimming back and forth. It brings about a feeling of relief in Zara she is free of the restrictions of clan and family; it might be lonely but she's no longer trapped.
The feeling of freedom lightens her step as she moves onto the sheet. She pushes her pale white hair behind her ears, checks herself in the mirror. The pale lines of paint across her face matching the tattoo's that adorn the sensuous lines of her body, tracing a path across the heavens and the chakras.
Zara drops her cloak to the floor, spinning off the area safely away on the cobbles. Standing proudly in her dancing outfit - 6 scarves of her patron Goddess Sivanah. She draws a white veil across her face, with the odd like of silver running through it to match her hair. Around her waist a translucent sarong reveals the lines of her legs, carefully knotted from a single long scarf. It also reveals third scarf; a vivid but opaque scarf underneath - tied tight to form undergarments. Whilst cinched around her waist of a heavier material is a contrasting scarf to be used as a sling.
Slowly pivoting her hips before starting to whirl in a sinuous movement; Zara starts her dance. The 5th scarf is opaque to, forming a halter top carefully constructed as to seem as if it strains. Whilst the last and most impressive scarf shimmers, small pieces of metal sewn into the material reflect the light as Zara gyrates. Her serpentine motions a dance taught by her mentor, to reflect the joyous nature and cunning of people.
She spins around and she pulls the shimmering top comes off, the soft knots come loose. Holding it by the edges she spins and flicks the material in time with her movements. 'If only I had some music.' The scarf waited down by the metal holds a secret; that it's a weapon sharp blades keep amorous viewers away whilst enhancing her performance.
Perform (Dance) if required: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
The morning mists do little to enhance her performance, she still feels a little stiff after the nights sleep.
Music would probably help the performance. Your efforts don't go completely unnoticed as a few of the more wealthy looking passer-byers throw a few measly coins at the ground beneath your feet.
Zara's earnings in Copper Pieces: 1d10 ⇒ 9
Yes. Retries are allowed, but they don't negate previous failures, and an audience that has been unimpressed in the past is likely to be prejudiced against future performances. (Increase the DC by 2 for each previous failure.)
Nicea snorts in amusement as the shorter folks behind her grumble, unable to see the speakers since she had pushed her way through the crowd to stand in front of them. They might complain quietly to themselves, but the sight of both a war scythe and the big armor-piercing hammer strapped to her pack generally deterred trouble. It's not like she ever asked to be tall. There was nothing she could do about it. A childhood full of teasing about her height had made her feel entitled to take advantage of it as an adult. Why not?
The town seems decent enough and the people were small-town serious about their home. It might not be a bad place to stay and work for a bit. But the Autumnal Equinox was here and it would be cold soon. Nicea had seen enough snow up north to last a lifetime. This might be a good port to catch a ship south for the winter, maybe to Absalom, but... She fingers her belt pouch ruefully. A few coins are discernible through the leather, but it is disappointingly anorexic, nowhere near as fat as it needed to be for passage to the Inner Sea.
Maybe I can find a southbound caravan, she thinks, pushing her way back out through the crowd as the boring entertainer gibbered and cavorted onstage, being careful not to shove the better-dressed folks who might be in a position to hire a guard. It would be easier if I knew somebody here and could get a recommendation. But sometimes a reputation is as good as a recommendation. She clears the bulk of the crowd, ignoring cries of indignation at stepped-on toes rising in her wake.
She wanders the fair, glancing idly the games and entertainment, and quickly grows bored. There are a couple of hours to kill until the 'special presentation' at noon. That could be enough time to check out the town and see about getting noticed. Listening for the noisiest, rowdiest drinking establishment, she stands for a moment outside the Fatman's Feedbag but decides being arrested isn't what she's angling for at the moment. A street urchin collides with her and she grabs its skinny wrist before it can cut her belt pouch free. Glaring, she shoves the child roughly into the gutter. "You're better off begging than stealing, kid, unless you want to grow up behind bars. Try making big eyes at the mothers. They can't resist feeding skinny kids. Now get out of here." She watches the inept cutpurse scamper away and unties her belt pouch from where it dangles, weighing it in her hand. Damned thieves. The pouch is flat enough to slip inside the front of her armor, its long cords tied together and looped around her neck for easy retrieval.
Sauntering through the seedy area by the docks, she happens upon Two Knights Brewery and decides to stop and see if they have a tasting room. Perhaps they'll give away samples in honor of the opening of the new temple. After all, Cayden is one of the featured deities.
As the festival goers put coins down for her, she says a light 'Thank you' incorporating it into her routine. In part it's a routine she learnt by rote; however she tries to improvise upon certain aspects as her mood takes her. However some of these are slight mis-steps without any musical accompaniment. 'I'll have to find someone to hold a rhythm for tonight's performance/'
Out of the corner of her eye she sees two boys barely out of their teens surreptitiously watching her. Though they are less than 5 years younger than her, she smiles at their naivete and their obvious glances not really admiring her dancing! Zara spins and twirls the scarf describing glittering patterns as she changes from the serpentine dance to an airy avian performance.
Damieka stands at the back of the crowd, listening and watching as the speakers talk on their stand. It was all rote and up play to keep their townsfolk and visitors happy which isn't such a bad thing. It was even nicer when it would work in her favor. With this many people around the ranger she should be able to sell many pelts to the mentioned over worker Larz Rovanky the tanner.
There were not a lot of hunters around who were lucky enough to find the animals some of these pelts slung over her shoulder came from and they were unusual indeed.
Oh there goes the boring man of the hour. Damieka put a hand over her mouth to yawn and not show others that she was doing so even if others were not so polite. And now Lonjiku Kaijitsu was ill and could not speak? All the better to be able to get going sooner.
Finally it ended and her cool blue eyes took in the people from the crowd. She watched as entertainers did their thing but walked on by most of them. There was this lady who did some enticing swirls and had dancing down to a vivid art though. The other lady's hair was a light as Damieka's was dark but the strong red highlights of her own hair stood out well enough.
She tossed a couple coppers onto the sheet beneath the dancer's feet. It was quite the compliment from this ranger to give any money to a performer. Then she was off to the tanner. Taking a round about way through the crowd she was able to find said Larz Rovanky and give him a big smile.
"Larz. You're lucky I stuck about. I found a white badger and some unlikely skunks. You said you wanted the four striped type without being scented?" She dropped the pile onto his table and leaned back with a half grin, "I think I got everything you were looking for."
I hope it is ok that she is trading pelts. It seemed like something a ranger hanging about would do.
Two Knights Brewery
Closed today in celebration of the Swallowtail Festival.
If you have a craving for any of our fine products they can be found at all of the local Taverns and a few other establishments in Sandpoint.
I think its an excellent idea
I'm assuming you know Larz on a personal level so I'll provide you with his description so you get can a better feel for his character.
(LG male, Human Expert 3) Larz runs the Tannery with ruthless efficiency. He expects perfection from his workers and his products, and as a result often works long hours on his own during the stretches when he's temporarily fired all his employees. His leather and fur goods are of high quality, enough that the locals generally don't mind the extra wait for custom orders while Larz fusses with getting things perfect.
Damieka Survival check to determine quality of furs: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Larz opposed Appraise check: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (18) + 6 = 24
Larz:"I'm glad to see your talents are still being put to good use, these are precisely what I was looking for. The White Badger is a bonus too, these are becoming quite rare with all those Little Green Bastards running about the countryside." Larz holds the furs up to his eyes closely, and inspects them. "Now see here" Larz points to the furs, "you nicked the pelts here, here, and here! I know you can do better than this Damieka. If I wasn't in such desperate need yof these I would reject them outright. I'll just have to find a way to cover this up. I can offer you 1GP, 3SP for the lot and not a copper more."
As Zara spins and twirls she flicks the corner of the ground cloth over some of the coins, the proceeds to shake her tail-feather as part of her avian dance. Her graceful dance a flicker of vivid plumage as the salty sea air causes the cloth to become heavier, loosing a slight flick in her hands.
Thighs start to burn from the dancing and she regrets not having some more entertainment; for soon she may have to stop. 'Maybe a slow dance? Or I could take my dozen coins and see the events?'
"Ahh," says Samara to herself as the speeches on the stage complete themselves. The elven treasure hunter wrings her hands together, not conspiratorially, but in a rather nervous sort of gesture. There are a lot of people around here. She keeps her eyes downcast, only glancing up to make sure she's not bumping into anyone, but not so far as to make eye contact with anyone. She looks over her shoulder and makes a note of Sheriff Hemlock's location, shuffling off. The shy elf has had a couple of run ins with the law, but never anything too serious. Just enough that enforcers of said law tend to find her exasperating.
She approaches one of the games, leaning up on the ledge of the booth and eyeing it, then eyeing the attendant, then looking down at the counter, all of this without spending enough time figuring out what exactly the game is. She stays silent just long enough for it to start to become uncomfortable before mumbling, "I would like to play. I think that is a thing that I would like to do..." Her eyes shift up and then back down. "What do I do to win? That is a thing that I hope will happen..."
A dark brow rises as Larz mentions the amount of money for the furs then she takes a look at the nicks, "Larz, Larz, Larz. Those three spots are at the original cut site where it has to be trimmed off to create anything. You're baiting me. I won't take any less than 2GP, 6SP. That's a rip of an offer and you know it.
Damieka waggles her finger at Larz teasingly knowing what he is up to, "And I know you have a contract for these skunks and one for the white badger as they are now so rare because of the Green Pains In The Rump."
Nicea grimaces in disappointment as she deciphers the note on the door. Great. If I wanted to pay for your beverages, I wouldn't be here looking for a free sample. And there aren't going to be any freebies in the taverns and stands today. Not with all these marks ready to splurge with their hard-earned coppers.
Dejected, she turns from the brewery and crosses to the dockside road, strolling along the docks and piers to look at the boats and ships there, examining the sails and flags and the names, her stride more jaunty here in the fresh sea breeze, boots thudding on the wooden planks. I wonder if Sea Sage is in port... nah, chances are slim to none. Still, this festival would be more fun if Tarján were here. He's a jolly companion in and out of the bunk. Sure enough, the docks run out before the ship she seeks appears, and she finds herself on soft sands for which the town is named.
The beach has scattered packs of revelers, though most of them seem to be in town enjoying games and food and entertainment. Suddenly, a thought strikes. This is a dedication for Cayden, among others. Maybe his priests would offer a weary traveler a sacrament! Renewed, she strides briskly through the streets towards the new church, keeping an eye out for clerics of the Lucky Drunk.
A Varisian dancer twirling for the crowd is nothing unusual, though people do not seem to be too impressed - except for two callow striplings who are headed towards the young woman with some definite purpose in mind. Amused, Nicea pauses to adjust a boot and keep an eye on the developing drama, ignoring the curses of pedestrians who stumble over her kneeling form. It should be good for laughs or, if the boys get too insistent, maybe a good fight.
Returning to Sandpoint for perhaps the umpteenth time, Silva reflects on what he knows about the town, remembering the ill-fated encounter he had the last time he mixed up important details.
Knowledge (local): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (12) + 6 = 18
Looks like I made it just in time! Silva thought with a broad grin, as he watched the opening speeches. He frequently went out of town with the caravans, a cultural habit he was never quite able to shake off, despite how cozy he found Sandpoint. The caravans always came back, but there was never any guarantee that they would be on time… or in one piece.
Even the sheriff’s gloomy pessimism does not bring down Silva’s ecstatic mood; he was all too happy to be home. It would take a lot more than that to spoil his day! Nonetheless, his expression does sour with the announcement of Lonjiku’s absence. There something wrong with the old man? he thinks worriedly, raising his hand to stroke his beard, He must be really sick if he’s missing out on something like this!
As Cyrdak takes the stage, Silva begins his endeavor of pushing himself through the crowds, knowing full well that it would only be harder to do so once the festivities officially kicked off. He had nothing against the performer – he just did not want to be crushed beneath the inevitable stampede of children. Breaking free from the crowd, he takes a deep breath and contemplates his next move.
“I hope he’s alright…” he murmurs to himself, already getting his feet moving. The performance would end any minute now. He did not know Lonjiku too well, but he was Ameiko’s father after all. “Oh, I still haven’t paid Ameiko a visit!” he realizes loudly, picking up his pace. With any luck, he could make it to The Rusty Dragon before the streets got too crowded.
With a little difficulty, Silva manages to find the familiar building. Panting slightly, he wipes some sweat off his forehead – he would live to see another day. Well, while I’m here I could see if she has any extra rooms handy… and ooh! I could see what kind of food they have! I haven’t eaten anything decent for a while now! His otherwise noble intentions seem to be knocked lower on his priority list as he steps into the inn.
Both boys are skrawney humans, probably around the age of 16. They are dirty and wear ragged cloths and as far as you can tell are either homeless or come from a broken home.
One of the boys is actually very hansom. He is obviously older than his counterpart (if only by a year or two) and looks quite a bit more mature. Though dirty, he has made an effort to wear his cloths properly and as well kept as he is able. He stands straight and moves with a certain grace that you just don't see in people his age. He makes eye contact with you and smiles with a mouth full of pearly white teeth.
The other boy is very much the opposite. He slouches and has made no attempt to keep himself presentable. He is skinnier than the other and trails at least 2 paces behind yet he still manages to move with a certain quickness. Aside from that his looks are completely average for a boy his age. He looks you in the eye with a stonefaced curiosity.
The two boys walk directly up to you.
Hansom Boy: "Wow, you have a real talent for dance. Where did you learn?"
"Im glad you asked beautiful lady! This is the challenge of the Balance beam!" He gestures to a thin wooden platform beside him. It is about 20 feet long and is old and rickety. Placed only 2 feet above the ground there is no real danger if one were to fall off however wooden splinters look like they could be a hazard should the structure collapse. "and for only 3 CP you can test your skill. Should you be able you walk all the way across without falling, you'll win your choice of prizes from the prize chest of MYSTERIES!"
Look in Zara's spoiler and read the descriptions for the boys. The younger one is the one who bumped into you.
This large structure is Sandpoints oldest Inn, notable for the impressive (and quite rusty) dragon that looms on the buildings roof. Owned and operated for the past 6 years by Amiko Kaijitsu the rusty is easilly the town's most popular feature.
Amiko's beauty is evenly matched by her skill at music which she performs on a near nightly basis. Some bad blood exists between Amiko and Cyrdak and neither seem to miss a chance to badmouth each other but nobody in town seems to understand the rivalry. Amiko also has a long standing feud with her family after leaving town to become an adventurer which was considered scandalous. Her adventuring career ended after a disastrous mission in which she never speaks of, after which she purchased The Rusty Dragon. Some believe she has a secret lover in town but the rumor has never been confirmed.
If you need more specific info regarding something just ask. Your 18 will be a standing roll while in Sandpoint
AMIKO: "SILVA!" Amiko screams as she leaps over the bar, runs up and gives you a big hug. "How was the trip? You have to tell me everythging!"
Davben knows he had a specific reason for being in Sandpoint. but can't seem to remember what it is. He does know that this festival is not why he's here, it's not something he would generally attend. The streets were getting crowded and Dav was having more trouble navigating having to push through. He probably wouldn't stand out much, he had no visible weapons, or attractive clothing. What sets him apart most would be that he seems more lost than interested in the festival.
He nearly falls on Nicea where she's knelt to adjust her boot "My lady, what pray tell are you doing knelt down in the middle of this crowd? It's almost asking to be trampled."
He glances towards Zara dancing, and doesn't appear to approve whether it is the dance itself, or her choice of attire isn't clear. Looking towards the boys approaching her, and sighs softly to himself "Maybe there's somewhere to get a drink. Perhaps it will jog my memory." He looks back towards Nicea "I don't suppose you would know of a good place?"
Nicea snorts. "They trample me at their own risk. And I wish I knew where to find good, cheap brew. I was about to head off to the temple to see if the priests of Cayden were being generous with their sacraments, when I spotted that." She points at the lads approaching the dancer and whispers in Dav's ear.
"Those two lads mean to charm yon dancer out of more than her scarves, I think. That younger one, the scrawny, bedraggled whelp, tried to cut my purse earlier near the docks. I caught him at it, but now it looks like he and a friend are going to try something new. Now, maybe the lady can handle herself - and I have certainly known Varisian wenches who could - but I thought to stay here a moment and keep an eye out, just in case. If they give us a scuffle, well, we'll work up a better thirst. Care to join me in keeping watch on this little drama?"
She stands and moves nearer the dancer, jerking her head in that direction to invite Davben to join her. If possible, she moves up behind the two boys and stays about ten feet away, not bothering with any weapons.
Pulled into Ameiko’s embrace, Silva laughs out heartily and returns the hug. “The trip went rather well! A little too well, perhaps. So well that nothing of any real interest happened,” he says with an exaggerated frown, before smiling again, “But I suppose I can spruce up the details a bit. I’m sure I could salvage some kind of story out of it. You first, though! How have things been while I've been gone?”
'Ragged clothes, but pearly teeth and noble demeanour. All is not what it seems. But I have nothing to hide.'
Zara slows down her dance; after a few dances she has become slightly tired. Her scarf describes the motions of the waves and her a bird bobbing up and down upon it.
"Learnt upon the great Irrisen caravan, the Mornièr clan's wagons as we travelled south. I thank you for the compliment." she replies honestly and slightly breathless. There is a slight surprise in her eyes at how busy this fair is and that she is drawing a crowd this early.
Without time to think, Amiko grabs you by the hand and with a smile jerks you in the direction of the door
Roll a Perception Check and a CMD check
Zara thinks, although these young boys could greatly help her make more money and she desperately needed some musical accompaniment. 'Would it be appropriate? They are quite young.' she thinks as only the youthful do where every year difference matters.
She bites her lip, whilst she slowly dances undulating her torso. 'They know magic though, so maybe the profits will outweigh the potential problems.' Zara smiles; "Yes, that would be most appreciated. I was going to stop soon and do my main performance tonight." smiling cheekily "When all the men are drunk!"
Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (4) + 2 = 6
CMD: 1d20 ⇒ 17
Silva's mind drifts to the case of his empty stomach once again, but as Ameiko grabs his hand he relents immediately, smiling along with her as he is pulled away.
"How could I possibly refuse?" he says sarcastically, immediately forgetting about his hunger. He was sure that there would be food all over the festival. To no surprise, even over the short period of time he had been in The Rusty Dragon, the streets had already gotten rather crowded. It's a good thing I bailed out when I did, he thinks, nodding to himself. Still smiling, he looks to the woman navigating him through the bustling streets.
"So, how did things go? I have to confess, I might have fibbed a bit. There is absolutely no way that I can make a broken wagon wheel sound interesting."
Davben nods to Nicea noting the two lads, and talks quietly back to her
Dav considers for a moment that perhaps the boys' intentions are pure, as he watches with Nicea he keeps an eye out for anything that would indicate otherwise. Then again pure or not Dav doesn't really care as long as the balance is kept.
Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (15) + 6 = 21
Sense Motive: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Damieka grins at Larz, "You knew very well that I would take that offer." She quips with amusement and puts out her hand for her pay, "I will probably be back tomorrow evening to see what else you will require ... unless I find another job that takes me away. We shall see, my friend." She pats the man's shoulder and walks off, having put her coin within her coin pouch which she hides in her clothing just above her breasts.
The ranger tended to keep hidden pouches for stashing things like coins. Her spending money at the top of her shirt and her regular money in a pouch attached to her armored right leg, inside the clothing with no opening on the outside. She didn't mind thieves. She just didn't want them to get her coin.
She walked about with a lazy stride, going back towards the dancer and sat down on a bench which was just vacated. Crossing her legs she eyed the area, always looking out for danger as it was an instinct to do so. Being in the wilderness may have jaded her, she thought, but it was also true that if you thought there was a man killing wolverine behind every bush you just might be right at least one of the times you go near any.
While rolling her shoulders she noticed the two males coming towards the dancer then glanced about for anyone else who may be attempting something. Well, this looked like it could be fun. She idly strung her bow and tested it as if she'd just bought the item, checking the tension.
Damieka, be sure to add 2GP to your character sheet for the transaction.
Marko Bluff Check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (5) + 8 = 13 This check opposes Davben's Sense Motive Check
Marko Steal Combat Maneuver: 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (20) - 1 = 19 Natural 20!!! Marco successfully steals all 9 of Zara's coppers
Marko Slight of Hand Check: 1d20 ⇒ 14 This check opposes everybody's Perception Checks. Davben and Nicea succeed in spotting Marko swiping Zara's profits from the ground beneath her
Midday has come quicker than expected...
At the same time this is happening, Father Zantus and his Acolytes can be seen wheeling a cart covered with a thin mesh cage into the town square. Inside are thousands of Swallotail Butterflies. As they walk Father Zantus shouts a short parable to the crowd of how Desna first fell to earth and was nursed back to health by a blind child whom she transormed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid.
Estoban snickers at what was probably Zara's joke.
ESTOBAN: "Here, will you be able to dance to this?" Estoban puts toe Flute to his lips and begins playing a tune trying to keep time with Zara's movements.
Marko stands up from tying his shoes and tugs on the corner of Estobans shirt.
MARKO: "Come on Estoban, you've had your fun, now its time to go. You can meet up with the Gypsy later tonight. I want to get out of here..."
"Mind? Oh, not at all," Silva says graciously, but frowns when Ameiko mentions leaving. Nonetheless, he simply smiles and shakes his head. "Heh, don't worry about it - you're always busy. I'll be sticking around town for a while. There will be plenty of time to get caught up once the festival is over."
His mind then drifts to her mention of delicious food.
"Curry-spiced salmon, eh? Can't say I've ever tried those two things together before. There's a first time for everything though..."
She nods to the duo; as the boys depart. 'At least they didn't try a quick grope.' she thinks optimistically. Zara continues her dance, as there are at least two other people watching.
Her eyes are taken as Zantus wheels in a cage of butterflies; 'Have I been dancing all morning! Well at least I'll have some accompaniment tonight and can look around the stalls after a quick lunch. Skittles might be fun or shove ha'-penny.'
"Umm," says Samara, at the offer from the man at the game, looking at the rickety balance beam, she decides, getting the three copper pieces required. "Yes, I think that is a thing that I shall do... I am a treasure hunter. So hunting treasure I should do..."
Acrobatics: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (19) + 8 = 27
Samara confidently gets up onto the balance beam now that the social interaction has completed itself, to give it a proper walk! She's going to show them, she's going to show them all! Though she would prefer it if people would stop looking at her... The mysteries will be mine.
Perception which is +6 to see if anything is going down.1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22
Damieka notices the young man stealing the coppers and stands with her bow in hand, shooting to get an arrow just in front of him and yelling, "Stop in your tracks or the next one gets your leg, thief."
Precise shot1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
It was true that she did not mind rogues and thieves but she did not like them stealing from the working people. Steal from the rich or from those who can afford it. This dancer did not look like she could fare to lose money but the children did not look like basic street urchins who needed it.
- I'm not sure but I think my attack is +6 ... am I right, Doug?
Just tell me if I did anything wrong. I've never played this way before ... in forums yes but not with a roll thing or PF.
Davben apparently still hadn't decided if it was best to stop the thief or not. "But donators give and thieves steal, is that not the way of festivals? And the dancer" He indicates Zara "Does not even seem to mind that they have taken her money. However, I did say I would assist you, and will keep my word. Do you require me to subdue the thief?" Assuming that her attempted grab at Marko means she wants him stopped, Dav starts to move to cut the boy off, but jumps back at the arrow whizzing out of the crowd.
He looks around quickly for one responsible, and deduces that it is the young woman yelling, since she appears to be the only one holding a bow. "My lady, please be cautious when firing arrows into a crowd, you may hit someone unintentionally, and that would be... difficult." He's not sure how she would recover her inner balance if she accidentally killed someone in the crowd, if it were on purpose that would be another matter.
The formula to see if a ranged attack hits is Base Attack Bonus(BAB) + Dexterity Modifier(DEX or MOD) + Size Modifier + Range Penalty
Damika's relevant stats for either situation are as follows:
STR MOD +2
DEX MOD +4
SIZE MOD +0 (this is not relevant for a medium sized character such as yourself)
Any attack at more than its indicated distance is penalized for range. Beyond this range, the attack takes a cumulative –2 penalty for each full range increment (or fraction thereof) of distance to the target. For example, a longbowbow has a range of 100 feet. Shooting up to this distance incurs no penalty (+0). If you wanted to shoot your bow past 100 feet but less than 199 feet though you would take a -2 penalty. 200-399 would be -4 and so on...
One other factor that comes into play is a feat that Damieka has when shooting her bow.
You get a +1 bonus on attack and damage rolls with ranged weapons at ranges of up to 30 feet.
This means that any target you shoot at within 30 feet has a higher chance to hit and does more damage.
So here is how this all works.
If Damieka shoots a target within 30 feet:
Formula to Hit: BAB +1, DEX MOD +4, Point Blank Shot +1 = +6
Formula to calculate Damage: 1d8 Base Damage w/ Longbow, +1 Damage w/ Point Blank Shot = 1d8+1
If Damieks shoots at a target beyond 30 feet but under 100 feet she can't use PBS:
Formula to Hit: BAB +1, DEX MOD +4 = +5
Formula to calculate Damage: 1d8 Base Damage w/ Longbow = 1d8
There are also some key things to remember when using a Bastard Sword in Melee:
Due to its size, a bastard sword is an exotic weapon. A character can use a bastard sword two-handed as a martial weapon.
Damieka has Martial Weapon Proficiency so she is able to use the sword in both hands without taking a penalty.
Formula to Hit: BAB +1, STR MOD +2 = +3
Formula to calculate Damage: 1d10 Base Damage, +2 STR MOD, +1.5X bonus for attacking with a weapon in both hands (2x1.5=3) = 1d10+3
It is also possible to attack using your sword in 1 hand should you ever need to.
A character who uses a weapon with which he is not proficient takes a –4 penalty on attack rolls.
Formula to Hit: BAB +1, STR MOD +2, -4 because your not proficient with this exact sword. = -1Formula to calculate Damage: 1d10 Base Damage, +2 STR MOD, = 1d10+2
This last formula is not included in your character sheet but you can always add it if you want.
In closing, your Attack Bonus is +6 if you are within 30 feet of Marko and Estoban, +5 if you are beyond that, even less if you are past 100 feet. Hope this helps
Estoban and Marko casually walk away. All of a sudden an arrow buries itself half way into the dirt as a large lumbering woman dives at them in an attempt to grab and misses.
In the background Father Zantus throws a Thunderstone to attract the crowds attention and swiftly releases the thousands of Swallowtail Butterflies. The Butterflies cover the area quickly as they fly away. The crowd lets out a loud cheer of excitement.
MARKO: "WHAT THE F!**? Marko exclaims as he stops abruptly looking at the arrow.
Estoban collides with him as he is distracted with the show Father Zantus is putting on. His attitude changes to panic as soon as he realizes Father Zantus is not the complete center of attention.
ESTOBAN: "We're busted. CHEEZE IT!"
The pair begin running...
Having escorted Ameiko to her stand, Silva breaks off, waving to her with a stupid grin on his face as he heads back to the main square. "A date then!" he calls back to her playfully, before turning away. I'll just work up my appetite till then, he thinks gleefully, before having his thoughts interrupted by a loud crack.
Silva looks up just in time to see the swarm of swallowtails come pouring out. Laughing out at the display, he joins the others in cheering.
Unnoticing of the youth's actions; until a tall muscular lady dives to try and grab them. Zara is shocked by the scene! Blinking, she starts to realise something is amiss.
Then Zantus get's upon the stage, thus she stops her performance out of respect. 'This isn't about me but... but...butterflies.' she thinks as they are released.
Her face lights up as the cloud of butterflies is freed, flitting up into the sky. The expanding cloud of butterflies, the very definition of beauty, freedom & life in Zara's eyes. She watches them rapt, all thoughts of money, festivals or worries disappear.
Nicea makes a moue of disappointment at her failure and glares at Marko, pointing from her own eye to him several times as he and his fellow flee before realizing that he wouldn't be able to see her impressive threat through the back of his head.
Giving the dancer a little shrug of apology, she turns to watch the butterflies in reverent silence, smiling a little at the incredible spectacle. I'm on the road far too much to risk offending the goddess who guards travelers.
Well that did not work but at least she got a better lok at them and should be able to find their parents if they had any and if they did not she would just find them. It was as simple as that.
As she was about to move she heard a man very close to her speak and she turned her head towards him, her deep blue eyes searching out his own to get a measure of the human male before her. With a quirk of the left side of her lips her eyelids dipped slightly as did her chin in a silent indication of understanding, "Good point that I shall remember."
She retrieved her arrow and came back to her spot, giving the man a better looking over and noticed he was not alone. That was too bad as she could have done with some company to speak with but she would not start any discussion with a woman beside him. You never knew what was there and jealousy could errupt rather quickly and she did not want to be at any end of that.
He however looked somewhat like a... monk? Was that the correct term? Dameika had to think of what that meant as she thought they were sworn to celebacy. Or were those priests? It did not matter. She wanted nothing to do with another woman being reactive. Tall or small.
Davben lets the boys go, not even attempting to pursue further as they run off. He really didn't see the harm in their thieving, and since the tall woman, whom he'd agreed to help, wasn't giving chase either he decided the job must be done.
He nods towards Damieka as she retrieves her arrow "It was a very well placed shot my lady. You must be confident with your bow." When the lady takes a closer look at Dav there shouldn't be any big surprises. In appearance Dav is rather plain, he wears dull coloured typical traveller's clothing, no weapons or items that stick out are apparent, unless you count a tankard hanging from his belt. She may be able to tell he had martial training by the way he held himself, possibly a monk, or something similar.
Dav comes to stand near Nicea and watches the butterflies with a look of slight puzzlement. "My lady... is there a shortage of butterflies in this region? Why are so many being released here?" As if feeling eyes on him he turns towards Damieka "Have you interest in me my lady? I do not mind questions if you have some to ask."
Dameika chuckles while keeping an eye out in case the woman with him reacted to them talking, "I was just curious about who was bold enough to speak to someone who had a bow out and ready to shoot is all. Thank you for the words of thougtfulness for others. I am confident but should have thought better before acting."
She bows her head slightly in respectfulness as she had noticed that he had been some form of martial fighter by his stance and had guessed monk only due to not knowing much of martial orders; however, thought she remembered from what she had been told and what she heard from this man, that they were rather respectful.
"I have no questions but as to yours to your friend, this is a ceremony as to which the moths are allowed free in a display of display of thanks just as Desna transformed her savior. At least that was the teachings I overheard as the priest was training the children." She looked at Nicea and gave her a smal smile ofapology, "I am sorry if I interrupted. No offense was meant."
"They are beautiful!" Zara comments to no particular person. She looks down to where the lady retrieves the arrow; "Why did you shoot at the young men?"
Her eye's glances across; "Oh, they borrowed my coin. Well that's down payment for their performance later?!" she says optimistically. "I'll buy you all a drink later. Their stout is rich and fruity."
Her vision is still rapt by the flutterby's. Vivid blues and warm yellows, against the pale cold blue sky.
"Ah, thank you," says Samara, reaching into the prize bin. She pulls out a stuffed cat, sewn together with yarn for a mouth and nose and buttons for eyes. The floppy little creature seems to be caught in a look of eternal excitement, the expression frozen there through the doll's nature. The white haired elf narrows her eyes at the creature before she moves its little white paws up and down to check its articulation. Yes, this is acceptable. She nods once and then tucks the stuffed animal under her arm, walking away from the game place.
She looks about for the Sheriff once more, just to make sure that she can make out his proper positioning with relation to her, just because she wants to avoid an awkward conversation with a man who she has had far too many awkward conversations with.
Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (1) + 7 = 8
The elf pauses upon the sight of the butterflies, though, distracted by all of that fluttering, approaching and looking up at the sky with a stupified look on her face.
A womans voice suddenly slices through the air. A few moments later another scream rises, and then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices - high pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human. The crowd parts and something low to the ground races bu giggling with a disturbing glee as a song begins chanting from shrill, scratchy voices.
When the goblins attack they shriek and race and leap and cackle. They take great joy in the widespread panic they have caused. From the moment they show up on site they chant a wracking song at the top of their lungs.
Goblins chew and Goblins bite!
Goblins cut and Goblins Fight
Stab the Dog and cut the Horse
Goblins eat and take by force
Goblins race and goblins jump
Goblins slash and Goblins bump
Burn the skin and mash the head
Goblins here and you be dead
Chase the baby, catch the pup
Bonk the head to shut it up
Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed
We be Goblins you be food
Goblins have the surprise round
Goblin 1 Initiative: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Goblin 2 Initiative: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (7) + 6 = 13
Goblin 3 Initiative: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (9) + 6 = 15
- Goblin 1 licks blood from a very crude looking sword as it looks for its next target.
- Goblin 3 picks up a rock and hurls it through a house window.
- Goblin 2 hops up on a table and begins stuffing its face with what looks to be Curry-Spiced Salmon.
Everybody roll Initiative and state your round 1 actions
Check the map and determine where you think you'd be placed based of the current RP, then give me the coordinates. I'm not going to give the current location for the Goblins just yet to avoid Metagaming. Its also assumed that the area is crowded, I wont be placing tokens for every NPC so you'll just need to use you imaginations.
Click here for Map!
Nicea start: M9
Initiative: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
"Goblins! Nasty little buggers, ruining this nice festival!" Nicea will try to spot the nearest goblin and move towards it, unsheathing her scythe. If it's within 30', she will be able to make an attack as well.
Davben looks curiously at Dameika "Oh, I hadn't thought of it as bold or thoughtful, I just thought it would be quite difficult to re-centre yourself if you accidentally fell someone in the crowd."
'Friend? Oh the tall woman' He supposed Nicea was about the closest thing he had to a friend since his departure from his homeland. "Oh yes, friend." He wasn't exactly loud, but he didn't take his 'friend's' cue to talk quieter. "But aren't they worried of overpopulating the area with the moths? wouldn't it be better to release them over a wider region, or perhaps somewhere they're especially scarce?"
He looks towards Zara as she talks about borrowing money "Well my lady, I believe the common term for it is stole, but do not worry thieves are just as important as those who donate. One without the other would be tragic. Very kind of you to offer us all a drink, I'll be much obliged."
He considers what Dameika said "Desna?" He tries to think if the name rings a bell.
Knowledge(Religion): 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (2) + 0 = 2
Goblins! I guess it doesn't matter that he knows absolutely nothing about Desna.
Initiative: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (15) + 5 = 20
After hearing Nicea say the goblins are ruining the festival he'll decide their evil is indeed disrupting the balance here, he should probably stop them.
Flurry of blows: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (17) + 2 = 19 Damage if a hit: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (1) + 3 = 4
Flurry of blows: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (6) + 2 = 8 Damage if a hit: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Unarmed attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17 If a hit: 1d6 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
Dameika's brow goes up in amusement as it seemed to her that maybe there was a bit of communication difference here but it seemed amusing. She turned her eyes to look at Nicea and laughed lightly, "Their drink is quite good but I'm not sure how much they are giving away. Do not worry. I am not as ill mannered as to put myself between a thirsty woman and her brew. Or a thirsty man for that matter."
At least this woman did not seem to mind her talking to the man so she relaxed a bit but still was not fully relaxed. She thought of the question of the moths and nodded, "I am sure that some people will regret this day when they find them in their clothing and it may cause some problems in the region but for the most part it may help the animals which have not been doing well because of the green beasts out there."
Deep blue eyes roll as Zara speaks, "They are youths here. I will find them and see what I can do and thank you for the offer of a drink later."
As soon as the singing rings out, Dameika gives a growl low in her throat as she pulls her bow but grumbles noticing so many people in the area, "Frick and hay." She mumbles as she gets ready to attack.
Initiative roll: 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (7) + 4 = 11
BAB +1 +2 Goblinoid =3
DEX MOD +4
PNT Blank +1 = +8?
"Stole?!" she exclaims to Davben.
"Butterflies...very different to moth's!" Zara reveals the vastness of her nature lore, in response to the potential moth infestation.
'That wasn't the musical accompaniment I wanted!.' she shudders at the screechy 'singing'. Keeping her scarf in her hand she rushes towards the stage trying to get a better look. Spinning through the crowd, weaving past the others as they split up attempting to stop the psychotic menace.
A kaleidoscope of vivid colour they stand out against her softly tanned skin, twirling and flamboyantly describing a . Her liquid motion takes her to the stage, she then tries to leap upon it. Taking the steps if necessary and available.
"Please everyone calm down! Everything is under control." she stands upon the stage, her costume gently fluttering in the sea breeze. As Zara tries to calm the audience; a panic in here could be worse than a few goblins.
Initiative: 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (18) + 5 = 23
Perception to see if anyone is injured: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Zara starts at L7 she moves through the people like water. Using her 'Agile Feet' power she can ignore difficult terrain (if the people count as such). The Varisian dancer tries to end up in J15 or so.
Goblin 3 Goblin 2
- Goblin 1 slashes wildly into the crowd. His DogSlicer connects with a random Civilian who is trying to escape the chaos. He falls down unconscious or dead? The Goblin runs right over the man in search of another victim.
- Silva sees the Goblin that s standing on the table, gorging himself on Curry-Spiced Salmon. He moves closer but leaves 15 feet of space between it and him.
- Zara makes her way through the crowd to the stage.
Perception Check Result:Despite the chaos, there are very few people injured. With your new vantage point you can see that there are Goblins running amok all over town. Between 20-40 of them. The 3 that are in the Square seem to be more preoccupied with having fun rather than doing any serious harm.
- Davben races in a straight line toward Goblin 1 and (with his height advantage) kicks it right in the face. The goblin is immediately knocked unconscious.
- Samara jumbles her belongings around trying to reach her weapon.
- Goblin 3 laughs with glee as the glass from the window comes crashing to the ground. He then races up to a near by merchant tent and starts knocking barrels over.
- Goblin 2 is still eating Curry-Spiced Salmon.
- Damieka Moves up 30 feet and shoots at Goblin 3. The arrow connects and the goblin drops.
- Nicea double moves to O-19.
Round 2 Begins Now
That damned goblin is eating my salmon! Silva thinks with a scowl, rolling up his sleeves.
"Hey, mean green! Over here!" he calls out, before waving his hands about in strange fluid motions, muttering something under his breath. Then, taking a deep breath, he opens his mouth, letting out a seemingly silent bellow.
Silva casts Ear-Piercing Scream on Goblin 2
Damage: 1d6 ⇒ 4 (Fort DC 16 to halve damage and avoid being Dazed)