GM Birch's Rise of the Runelords

Game Master Birch33


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From Magnimar eastwards to Sandpoint along The Lost Coast, your caravan has picked up various travellers along the way and dropped a few more off besides. The reason for the majority to be on the caravan is a simple one – people want to attend the Swallowtail Festival.

The Swallowtail Festival is held on the Autumnal Equinox – generally on the 22nd or 23rd of the month of Rova, and this year is no exception. The caravan master had been pushing to get there the day before it starts as some of the travellers have stalls they intend to set up for the occasion.

But a broken bridge meant a detour and you'll arrive with literally minutes to spare. To the caravan master’s credit, he re-jigged the horses and carts to ensure the vendors got there a couple of hours before the rest of you.

You are sharing the back of a cart and the caravan master has let everyone know that Sandpoint is about an hour away now. The noise from the other vehicles raises a few notches at this news.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

The fair halfling waves a hand in acknowledgement to the caravan master, a small grin at some hidden joke coming to his face that lifts his right cheek and makes a single dimple appear. He turns back to the others, deciding to enjoy the last hour of the ride "Would anybody care to play a game of dice?" He meets different gazes as he summons forth a pair of die from his sleeve, rolling them around his fingertips.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7

Kalig eyes the halfling from under the hood of her robe, watching him spin the dice about in his palm. She was not much for games, although she'd certainly been exposed to them. The civilized propensity to toss dice for coin was at least nicer than the orc game where you spun a marked skull, and if it came up a certain result, you got punched. It was something to pass the time, at least.

She shrugged and nodded. "Mm," was all she intoned, to indicate her interest.


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn sat on crate in the back of the cart, dozing quietly. Her pointy hat looked quite ridiculous as it flopped around every time the cart rolled over a bump. One of the cart's wheels dip momentarily into a ditch, knocking Merwyn off the crate and jolting her awake. She adjusts her hat and rubs her eyes. "Oh yep, I was paying attention, watching the whole time, definitely, yep, most certainly. For the rest of the folks that were snoozing off though, can anyone explain what's going on?"

Merwyn tries to stand up and make her way back onto the crate, but she falls back down on her bottom and elects to stay there.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

Miro laughs gently as the gnome stays sitting, then pushes off his crate and sits down on the floor with her "I think we're being rather unfair to these tall folk. It's hard enough for them to hear us when we're standing, now it must be like having a conversation from the top of a mountain" Miro gestures with his right hand to their destination while keeping his left firmly on the ground, and the dice that were in his right hand are suddenly gone "We're going to be arriving in an hour, and I thought a game of dice would suit to pass the time. Care to join me?" As he inquires this he raises his left hand to show her the same pair of dice that just vanished.


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn uses prestidigitation to lift the tip of her pointy hat until it extends straight upwards and uses her other hand to measure. The hat extends two feet above her four foot frame. "I can see why they would have trouble hearing me; I think I got my impressive height from my mother. Just a few inches over six feet."

Merwyn watches the magic trick with interest. "An interesting sleight of hand for a halfling, but I happen to know that every gnome child is performing that trick at the age of ten. I've heard that halflings can do amazing things with pebbles though. Maybe you have a trick with one?"


Init +2 | AC 15 / T 12 / FF 13 | HPs 10/28 | Saves F +5 / R +5 / W +3

Breaca breaks off from her reverie and smirks faintly at the pair near her feet. She had not had much experience with the 'wee' folk prior to joining the caravan, and she was finding their antics amusing. Watching them certainly helped to pass the time. She was finding the slow pace of the wagons chaffing and longed to be astride horse. She could probably have halved the time to Sandpoint!

"Yes. I should like to see this halfling pebble trick as well. Before you go and take more of our coin."


Male Halfling Rogue 3

Miro's half smile rises again "Didn't think you'd notice that, perhaps your great height helped you spot it" He takes out a small dark red stone that has shades of yellow through it "I found this years ago and have no other stone like it" Miro leans over and takes off Merwyn's hat, placing the surprisingly heavy stone on her head. He replaces her hat, showing her his empty hand and smiles "Find the stone" After a moment the weight of the stone suddenly vanishes and is nowhere to be found

Perception DC 21:
Sleight of Hand: 1d20 + 11 ⇒ (10) + 11 = 21 Miro twisted and pressed down on Merwyns hair to create the feeling of a weight being placed on her head


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Perception: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (12) + 2 = 14

"Very good! I've never seen that one before. This is way better than what I could've imagined."


Male Human (Chelaxian) Bard 3
Quick stats:
AC 14, T12, FF12; HP 21/21; F +2, R +5, W +3 (+4 vs. bardic performance, sonic, language-dependant); CMD 14; Init +2; Perc +6; SM +5; Bardic performance 18/18 rounds remaining; Spells 1st-level 2/4 remaining

Horatio sits on the floor of the cart, wedged into a corner, violin across his lap. He plucks lazily at the strings, playing it like a lute - the movement of the caravan is too rough for the finesse required of playing the instrument as intended. The melody is pleasant, though, a simple pattern of notes. Pleasant to the untrained ear, at least. To him, it's horrendously simple, and he wishes for a smoother road so that he can play some real music.

He glances at the open journal at his feet, pages covered with elegant, slanted writing. Cyrdak Drokkus. The man he wanted to see. The day after the festival, at least; no doubt everyone would be too busy. Ah well, there'd be a tavern to play in, even if the yokels in the backwater hive preferred bawdy tavern songs to fine masterpieces.

He watches the gnome and halfling converse and perform sleight of hand tricks, more out of boredom with the same scenery than anything else. There's little else to inspire him.


Sleep was not an invited guest, as far as Veryl was concerned, he had planned to stay awake during the ride, but it seems that jumping from a window on the second floor, making a mad dash through the city, sneaking through alleyways, fighting a bunch of punks and the constant rocking of this cart was more than enough steal away his consciousness. The same rocking that had helped in him surrendering to slumber, broke him away from it. Veryl opened his hazel eyes slowly, looked down to find his sword and bow still in his lap, patted the coin pouch in his pocket and sighed in relief.

The black haired man looked around, he found the crew he was traveling with interesting in every sense of the word. Their appearances screamed many things at him; their personalities, past and potential. Veryl shuffled his shoulders and tried to see what type of weaponry they were carrying Always best to know who's a combatant Hazel eyes scanned the arms the people in his cart had by their sides, and he paused when he saw the half-orc's weapon.

"That is an interesting looking flail, I am sure the smith who fashioned it for you was astounded by your choice of design" Said Veryl, his tone of speech radiating calmness and neutrality.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7

Kalig's eyes flicker back and forth between the gnome and halfling,quietly fascinated by the interchange, and Milo's gift of legerdemain. She even cracks a smile at the stone trick, though buries her chin in her hood to attempt to conceal it.

She tilts her chin as Veryl addresses her, running her finger down the flail's shaft in reaction to his remark. She shrugs, and thinks a moment before replying. She hadn't talked much on the trip and if she was going to reply, she figured she should try to make it good. "The chain was first forged for prisoners, slaves. I asked the smith to free it. He was obliging."


"Free a tool of slavery? An interesting idea" A small smirk appeared on the finely dressed man's face. Veryl shifted in his seat and shuffled his shoulders, his napping position having left him feeling somewhat uncomfortable "Now that it is no longer what it was crafted to be, what purpose does it serve? Do you use it to liberate the enslaved? To champion those who suffer beneath the boots of tyrants?" Continued the tall man, his voice slightly betraying the intrigue he was feeling.

Merwyn Dreamweaver wrote:
"Very good! I've never seen that one before. This is way better than what I could've imagined."

"Neither have I, but then again I've never seen a six foot tall gnome before, but I seem be seeing one now" Veryl poked the hat of Merwyn with his index finger. Showing signs of amusement by the little arcane trick she pulled with her hat It seems I won't have any moments of boredom on this trip Thought the fugitive to himself as he leaned back in his seat, while he kept his arms over his sheathed sword and bow.


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn takes off her hat and reaches into her pack, pulling out the authentic colorful silk veils of a Katapeshi princess. She wraps it around herself until she's resplendent in color. "Have you seen a desert gnome before?"

"Everyone has stories to tell," she says with a mock mysterious voice, hiding her face behind the veils.


Male Halfling Rogue 3
Merwyn Dreamweaver wrote:
"Everyone has stories to tell," she says with a mock mysterious voice, hiding her face behind the veils.

Miro smiles and nods, but to those who pay attention to the smaller things, Miro looks off in the distance and becomes inwardly drawn, not at all inclined to be telling his story.


"A lone traveling performer? You must have confidence in your skills" commented Veryl, his hazel eyes still on the arcane wielding gnome and his interest was still alive and well "And yes what you say is true, even if you have meant it only as a friendly jape" He continued as his eyes moved from the gnome to give the gathered strangers a once over.

"The way you all dress and carry yourselves has already whispered many a tale to me" Veryl gently placed his left fist inside of his open right palm, and his free fingers began rapping the back of his hand, in a calm and unhurried rhythm "Let us start with you shall we?" The black haired man turned to face Breaca "It goes without saying that you are a warrior of some kind or have been a warrior at some point in your life, you are uncomfortable sitting in this cart, but somehow here you are, necessity? Or the order of a superior?" Questioned Veryl his voice still calm and collected, to him these assumptions were something to pass the time, it was akin to an act performed and enjoyed by none other than himself.

"Either one means that you are at a point in your life where you have little to no control over your decisions" Veryl's sight stayed fixed on the warrior "A trying time, but most people have had their share of trying times" Continued the former guard, his fingers still dancing slowly on the back of his left hand.


Male Human (Chelaxian) Bard 3
Quick stats:
AC 14, T12, FF12; HP 21/21; F +2, R +5, W +3 (+4 vs. bardic performance, sonic, language-dependant); CMD 14; Init +2; Perc +6; SM +5; Bardic performance 18/18 rounds remaining; Spells 1st-level 2/4 remaining

Horatio listens to the conversation, still idly plucking the violin strings, but shows genuine interest when the half-orc speaks of her flail. "So you've liberated a tool of slavery, turning it into a weapon and giving it new life? That's rather poetic, don't you think?" His face is thoughtful, and it seems something on the dull trip has finally caught his interest.

He watches with a pleasant smile as the well-dressed man - sharp looking fellow, he is, and not entirely unattractive - begins questioning the others on the cart, starting with the warrior woman. She's not too bad, either. Not conventionally beautiful, but she has a certain charm about her. "Ah, so you're a mind-reader then?" he teases, pulling himself up a little straighter in his corner. "Perhaps when you're finished with the lady, you could do me?" He raises his eyebrows and one corner of his mouth simultaneously, forming the half-smile that got him out of (and into) so much trouble back home.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

And a half smile! You truly are my twin in appearance Horatio!


Male Human (Chelaxian) Bard 3
Quick stats:
AC 14, T12, FF12; HP 21/21; F +2, R +5, W +3 (+4 vs. bardic performance, sonic, language-dependant); CMD 14; Init +2; Perc +6; SM +5; Bardic performance 18/18 rounds remaining; Spells 1st-level 2/4 remaining

Well, bards kind of have to be charming, don't they? ;-)


Female Gnome Sorcerer
Veryl Melthid wrote:
"A lone traveling performer? You must have confidence in your skills" commented Veryl, his hazel eyes still on the arcane wielding gnome and his interest was still alive and well.

"Close. I think the traveling performer in our group is over there." She gestures to Horatio. "I'm just a gnome. Maybe that will be a tale for another time." Merwyn stows her silks to make sure they aren't dirtied and puts on her signature floppy hat.

Merwyn shifts herself over closer to Miro. "Something wrong?" she asks quietly.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

Miro blinks, paying attention to the present once more. Much of his cheeriness has dissipated. "Yes, sorry. Daydreamed a bit is all. I'm afraid I don't have too much of a story to tell, just a traveling jeweler who likes to entertain his nieces and nephews with small tricks"


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn thinks that she understands, although she probably couldn't be farther from the truth. "Where did you go?"

She looks expectantly at Miro.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

He leans back and looks up as he thinks back "Tries selling wares in Cheliax, found out pretty quickly they don't care much for halflings. After that I spent some time in Molthune, but that didn't suit my business either. I peeked into Nidal and guessed it was much the same as Cheliax, so I haven't been there much." He pauses to collect his thoughts again "Spent a while in Nirmathas, good people there. Business was decent. It was there I heard a rumor of ancient gems off the northwestern coast of Magnimar, on some of the small isles. Now that was a journey, crossing all of Varisia. I managed to keep a low profile most of the time to avoid the dangers on the road, although some bandits found me and I had to bargain for my life once. Well anyways, while I was there searching for this rumor I got a message from an old business partner and friend who had apparently moved to Sandpoint. I figured while I was in the area I could swing by and give him a visit." He shrugs apologetically "Not much of a story, I know. But it is amazing to travel and see so much of the world"


Female Gnome Sorcerer

"That's an interesting daydream. Is your dream the reason that you decided to come to Sandpoint?" She pauses momentarily. "It's quite amazing that you managed to go through so much story in only a few minutes of dreaming. Can you change the course of your dreams with your mind, or are you just along for the ride?" She tilts her head quizzically and the hat flops to the other side.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

Miro stops, perplexed, the laughs "Oh haha, I thought you meant on my actual travels! No I was just reflecting back to my time in Nirmathas, wondering how business will be when I get back"


Female Gnome Sorcerer

"Oh." Merwyn seems a bit disappointed. "I thought there was someone else like me, but that's interesting too."

"Is Nirmathas your homeland?"


Male Halfling Rogue 3

"Now that sounds like a tale, tell me about yourself. And yes, I was raised in Nirmathas, before it was a free nation"


Female Gnome Sorcerer

"Well, I was born with the ability to experience my dreams as reality. I could experience life in the day, and when I went to sleep, I could experience life in my dreams too." Merwyn sighed. "The problem was that sometimes I got confused about what was real and what was just a dream."

"Turns out the difference between them is that things don't always go your way in the real world. That's why I keep this with me." Merwyn holds up a small needle. "If I really need to stay awake."


Male Halfling Rogue 3

"Ah, so daydreaming can be a rather serious matter for you. That seems like a gift to have your own world beyond this one."

This is a great conversation, but I feel like we're flooding the thread while everyone else is watching. I'm going to step back and let other people RP


Init +2 | AC 15 / T 12 / FF 13 | HPs 10/28 | Saves F +5 / R +5 / W +3
Veryl Melthid wrote:

"Let us start with you shall we?" The black haired man turned to face Breaca "It goes without saying that you are a warrior of some kind or have been a warrior at some point in your life, you are uncomfortable sitting in this cart, but somehow here you are, necessity? Or the order of a superior?" Questioned Veryl his voice still calm and collected, to him these assumptions were something to pass the time, it was akin to an act performed and enjoyed by none other than himself.

"Either one means that you are at a point in your life where you have little to no control over your decisions" Veryl's sight stayed fixed on the warrior "A trying time, but most people have had their share of trying times" Continued the former guard, his fingers still dancing slowly on the back of his left hand.

The dark haired woman sways easily in her seat as the cart rumbles along over the uneven road. Her eyes shift to Veryl at his questions. She had been listening with some interest to the hooded woman's response regarding her weapon but now Breaca holds Veryl's own gaze with steady frankness.

"What you say is true. I have wielded axe and spear before. It is equally true I would rather be sitting a horse than a cart." This she says with a faint smirk. "But I am sadly lacking a decent mount at present." Her head tilts slightly as she eyes Veryl as if trying to gauge the man. "You do miss some marks though. We always have control over our decisions, and I have always made my own, and no other. I am here because I have decided to be."

She eyes him up and down. "What of yourself? From the size of your shoulders and the way you carry yourself I'd say you're no stranger to hard work - but not a farmer. You're too well dressed for that. Perhaps a craftsman of some kind. Your weapons though, a bit of contrast there. Older in style. Overly ornate, almost ostentatious, yet meticulously cared for. As one who has had to live by them might care for his weapons. Ex-soldier perhaps?"


After days following dusty tracks more than well-kept roads, the sight of civilisation is a welcome one – even if Sandpoint is only a small town. What strikes each and every one of you is that there appears to be so many people descending on such a small place – and the likelihood of finding a bed at an inn is remote at best.

The morning sun and a cloudless sky suggests that at least the weather will be good if you do have to camp outside tonight. And so, with money burning a hole in most of your pockets, you catch sight of the square in front of a beautiful church – clearly the centrepiece of the festival. Colours, sounds and smells overwhelm you as you see various stalls offering food, clothes, local crafts and even souvenirs. They line the square, adding to the carnival atmosphere. And there appear to be games galore on offer for anyone unwise enough to part with their silver.

The mood is intoxicating as you see a group of dignitaries take to a temporary stage erected in front of the church. What little space there was disappears as locals and travellers alike squeeze to get a better view of the proceedings.

First to speak is a woman describing herself as Mayor Deverin. Her speech is friendly and whips the crowd into an excited frenzy. She jokes at some of the local’s expense – there is in particular a loud laugh when she mentions that Larz Rovanky managed to tear himself away from his tannery to attend. From a lone voice in the crowd, it seems Larz found it less funny.

Next up is Sheriff Belor Hemlock. He instantly brings the crowd’s mood down with a reminder about pick-pockets, drinking too much and finally a warning to be safe around the evening's bonfire. Finally he requests a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town's previous church some years ago. The crowd goes eerily silent for a few seconds before erupting in a cheer as Hemlock steps back from the front of the stage.

The next speaker is (according to a very knowledgeable person in the crowd near you – albeit someone else labels him an interfering know-it-all which takes the wind out of his sails) scheduled to be a local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitsu, but a sudden illness has prevented him from attending the ceremony.

In his place is a larger than life man who theatrically introduces himself as Cyrdak Drokkus – and he launches into some rousing anecdotes. He soon gets the crowd buoyant again and is clearly at ease on the stage. He delivers a not-completely reverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral. He throws in a bit of self-promotion at the end, inviting everyone to stop by the Sandpoint Theatre the following evening to check out his new production of "The Harpy's Curse," revealing that the lead role of the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda!

Finally, a bearded Father Zantus steps up to give a very short speech thanking everyone for coming before formally declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.

The loudest cheer of the day follows this announcement and people immediately disperse to partake of their particular pleasure. You are reliably informed by the knowledgeable local that the next part of the formal proceedings will take place at noon, so you shouldn’t go too far. Looking at the sun, you’d estimate you have at least an hour until then.

Numerous games and contests are taking place, including sack races, games of hide-and- seek, weight-lifting challenges, balance beam contests and tug-of-war events. There are also stalls selling every type of food and drink you’ve ever heard of (and plenty more besides) plus all manner of clothing and trinkets too.

Feel free to pretty much do whatever you want. I can NPC a stall-holder or local if you need, but feel free to role-play the next 'hour'. As long as you don't claim to win 1,000gp in a game of chance or wipe out half the town guard, you don't need to roll unless you want to.


Merwyn Dreamweaver wrote:
"Close. I think the traveling performer in our group is over there." She gestures to Horatio. "I'm just a gnome. Maybe that will be a tale for another time."

"I am sure it will be, because in my experience people who state they are 'just a' are usually a lot more then they are letting on" Said Veryl to the blond gnome before he turned to face Horatio.

"Chelixian features, well tailored clothes; you are either from the empire...what is left of it anyway, or Korvosa. But the puzzle lies elsewhere" the Bastard sword wielder paused for a few moments and crossed his arms "Here we have a performer, with an instrument that you would likely only hear in grand stages or the abodes of nobles, traveling to Sandpoint...you have either got on the wrong caravan or you are running from something, because I'd honestly hate to hear that you have wasted your chance to perform for large audiences and settled for a small town instead" Said the former guard, the word 'hate' unintentionally receiving more weight in the sentence than it should.

A memory flashed momentarily before Veryl 'I don't want to leave Rawdon, but thanks for the offer' The fugitive from Magnimar turned away from everyone and stared into space So young....so naive But then his mental brooding was interupted by the voice of the woman he had addressed earlier.

Breaca wrote:
"You do miss some marks though. We always have control over our decisions, and I have always made my own, and no other. I am here because I have decided to be."

"You speak the truth, but your words tell me that unlike most people, you would see disobedience as a choice even if it meant punishment or death" A smirk appeared on the face of the man with the goatee "There are very few people like you in these lands" He continued, before shuffling his shoulders once more to try and relocate the comfort that had left him earlier.

Breaca wrote:
She eyes him up and down. "What of yourself? From the size of your shoulders and the way you carry yourself I'd say you're no stranger to hard work - but not a farmer. You're too well dressed for that. Perhaps a craftsman of some kind. Your weapons though, a bit of contrast there. Older in style. Overly ornate, almost ostentatious, yet meticulously cared for. As one who has had to live by them might care for his weapons. Ex-soldier perhaps?"

Someone else wants to join the game? Why not? Veryl gave a small smile to Breaca "You were closer to the truth with your first guess; I have been a weapon smith's apprentice when I was but a boy, but by the time I've seen fifteen summers I was more or less recruited to join the personal guard of a minor noble, and now I plan to try my hand at being a sword for hire, so it seems that I am just starting my life as a soldier" Continued the man in the white shirt, his small smile not wavering, just like his calm demeanor.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7
Veryl Melthid wrote:
"Free a tool of slavery? An interesting idea" A small smirk appeared on the finely dressed man's face. Veryl shifted in his seat and shuffled his shoulders, his napping position having left him feeling somewhat uncomfortable "Now that it is no longer what it was crafted to be, what purpose does it serve? Do you use it to liberate the enslaved? To champion those who suffer beneath the boots of tyrants?" Continued the tall man, his voice slightly betraying the intrigue he was feeling.

Kalig raises an eyebrow as Veryl seems to fabricate his own narrative for whomever he perceives Kalig to be. She is unused to being asked a lot of questions and finds it a little invasive--although even at the same time, she is amused at the man's desire for some tale of intrigue. She snorts and simply replies, "Like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

She shrugs. "You want to talk of weapons, talk of your own. Have you any real strength to bear behind your sword, or are you just full of bluster?"

Horatio Aldebrandt wrote:
Horatio listens to the conversation, still idly plucking the violin strings, but shows genuine interest when the half-orc speaks of her flail. "So you've liberated a tool of slavery, turning it into a weapon and giving it new life? That's rather poetic, don't you think?" His face is thoughtful, and it seems something on the dull trip has finally caught his interest.

Regardless of his reply, she turns from Veryl to Horatio and replies to the bard, deadpan, "Poetry? I am not well-versed in such things.

"Perhaps, if this trip is any longer, you can teach me."

GM Birch wrote:


The loudest cheer of the day follows this announcement and people immediately disperse to partake of their particular pleasure. You are reliably informed by the knowledgeable local that the next part of the formal proceedings will take place at noon, so you shouldn’t go too far. Looking at the sun, you’d estimate you have at least an hour until then.

Numerous games and contests are taking place, including sack races, games of hide-and- seek, weight-lifting challenges, balance beam contests and tug-of-war events. There are also stalls selling every type of food and drink you’ve ever heard of (and plenty more besides) plus all manner of clothing and trinkets too.

The day is a beautiful one, and as the crowds disperse, Kalig just stands in the square, inhaling deeply. The fresh air, sweet with the sun, intermingles with the smoke of houses and a million different spices and foodstuffs wafting from vendors' stalls. It feels right, a balance to honor the day when night and day are equal.

The scent of certain foods also strike her as especially appealing, and she has long been living on caravan rations and whatever she has hunted for herself. A change might be nice.

While she is inclined to follow the scent of something full of honey and cinnamon toward a sweet vendor, she also looks to see where her associates from the caravan have gone, wondering how such a motley crew has decided to spend their festival in this distant town.


Kalig wrote:

"Like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"

She shrugs. "You want to talk of weapons, talk of your own. Have you any real strength to bear behind your sword, or are you just full of bluster?"

"I enjoy many things, among them is seeing the true nature of those that surround me" Replies Veryl, his expression neutral and his voice betraying no emotion Defensive aren't we? Veryl stretched his arms forward "I am sure that no matter what I tell you about my talent with my weapon, it would be best for you to see for yourself, but I don't believe such a chance will arrive anytime soon Continued the black haired man, as he leaned back in his chair, finally feeling a bit more comfortable in his seat.

When the cart they were in came to a complete stop, Veryl decided to leave it last, as he didn't want to bother with pushing past anyone or bumping into people, especially since the whole issue could be avoided by simply waiting longer and enjoying the comfort he had finally found.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7

The priest Zantus--is it evident who he is priest of? I couldn't find the answer in the player's guide.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7
Veryl Melthid wrote:


"I enjoy many things, among them is seeing the true nature of those that surround me" Replies Veryl, his expression neutral and his voice betraying no emotion Defensive aren't we? Veryl stretched his arms forward "I am sure that no matter what I tell you about my talent with my weapon, it would be best for you to see for yourself, but I don't believe such a chance will arrive anytime soon Continued the black haired man, as he leaned back in his chair, finally feeling a bit more comfortable in his seat.

Kalig smiles, revealing her oversized lower canines. "Let's hope not, Talky-Man, for all our sakes."


Male Halfling Rogue 3

After listening to the crowd and all the people on stage Miro turns to the others "Well I am off to visit my friend, perhaps I'll see you at noon" And he heads off.

Miro begins heading to where his contact lives, amusing himself by swapping out peoples coin. He might take a silver piece, only to take 10 copper from somebody else and swap them, not giving or taking any money but causing a great deal of confusion. He keeps his distance and chuckles at their confused expressions, finally weaving to wear his contact normally houses.


Kalig wrote:
The priest Zantus--is it evident who he is priest of? I couldn't find the answer in the player's guide.

It doesn't take much effort to find about the good father as all of the locals know him. It seems when the Sandpoint chapel burnt to the ground, killing the town’s priest, his position in the town was filled by his top acolyte who was Zantus. Though Father Zantus is himself a cleric of Desna, his role as high-priest requires him to be open to other faiths, and he is more than willing to assist followers of other gods with spiritual matters.


Female Gnome Sorcerer
Miro Strinder wrote:

"Ah, so daydreaming can be a rather serious matter for you. That seems like a gift to have your own world beyond this one."

This is a great conversation, but I feel like we're flooding the thread while everyone else is watching. I'm going to step back and let other people RP

Merwyn shrugs. "Sometimes a gift, sometimes a curse. I can't do much about it, but at least it provides me good storytelling material. It's ruined my life and saved it more than once."

As the caravan arrived in the town, Merwyn couldn't help but be distracted by the festive atmosphere. Maybe I'll just have some fun before I go to the cathedral. She finds a comfortable corner in a bustling part of the square and sets up a small fold-out puppet stage. Her pet flightless roc hid under a cloth nearby. Merwyn activates ghost sound and lights a piece of wood to provide special effects.

She shouts into the crowd. "Come one, come all, to hear a tale from another land! A timeless tale of adventure..." Merwyn begins her story.

Perform: 1d20 + 13 + 2 ⇒ (14) + 13 + 2 = 29

I'm assuming +2 circumstance bonus from being able to use ghost sound as a swift action, so I can continue performing while using it, but I think adding more special effects might be more substantial, though in a routine performance I probably wouldn't have enough spells to use them.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7

Kalig toys with the thought of speaking to the priest, though he was assuredly busy this day. Somehow, if anyone in a community was nice to her ("nice" being relative), it was usually the town priest (priests of cruel gods notwithstanding). So she wondered if he might be best to seek advice from, now that she had arrived. Perhaps later, after the festivities.

For now, it was sampling an apple tart from a stand, sold to her by a slip of a girl who seemed to pay Kalig's imposing form no mind. Then munching on the treat, she walked over to see Merwyn perform.


Female Gnome Sorcerer

After some people start to cluster around the stall, Merwyn begins the story...

The summer swept through the Katapeshi desert, leaving no one unaffected. The heat was oppressive and even the cacti were starting to droop. Yet even when the mirages played with the senses of every living being (it was here that Merwyn pressed a pedal with her foot to bring the flame closer to the stall, using the convection currents to create a mirage-like effect), our young heroine continued onward. Merwyn places her first puppet onto the stage, a small blonde gnome with a distinctive pointy hat. Her quest: to find the desert nomads and live with them to better understand their culture. Still, it had been days and there hadn't been a single glimpse of the nomads that she had hoped to find...and her flask was out of water. Our heroine was close to death.

Wait, yes! Out in the distance, tents! She rushed towards the sight, trudging up the dunes and tumbling back down the other side... It was not quite what she had hoped. An oasis, yes, but no nomads. She checked her map; it was the gnomish town of Yavipho. Nevertheless, she hurried to the water's edge and began to drink. Nearby, a beautiful Katapeshi female was picking dates from a nearby tree. Merwyn places a second puppet on the stage, a taller beauty with striking black hair and swirling robes. They talked for hours and our heroine helped her pick fruit to bring to the celebration that night. Preparations were underway in the village for a wonderful feast. But as the sun began to set, the loud whooping sound of a gnoll horn blast from the distance and the metallic screech of weapons interrupted the reverie(queue ghost sounds).

The slavers had arrived.


Male Human (Chelaxian) Bard 3
Quick stats:
AC 14, T12, FF12; HP 21/21; F +2, R +5, W +3 (+4 vs. bardic performance, sonic, language-dependant); CMD 14; Init +2; Perc +6; SM +5; Bardic performance 18/18 rounds remaining; Spells 1st-level 2/4 remaining

As Veryl looks him over, announcing his hypothesis, Horatio smiles, flashing white teeth, and gives a small, awkward bow from his seated position. "Indeed, my good man. I was born and raised in Korvosa. I began playing the violin at twelve, and have been performing for my coin since. However, I was told that my ego was too great, and that I should try my luck somewhere else, to build a reputation. I shall stay in Sandpoint for perhaps a season, no more, performing at the theater there, and when I outgrow it - which I suspect will be all too soon - I shall move on, and I suspect I won't miss this backwater hive." His voice turns bitter, and he looks out at the scenery through a gap in the planks.

When Kalig responds to him, he turns back to her, one eyebrow raised. "I never thought I'd meet a half-orc willing to learn such things. Very well. It appears we have arrived, but seek me out in Sandpoint, and I'll teach you some of the finest Varisian poetry I kow." He places his violin tenderly back in its open case, rearranges his rosin and bow, then closes the case with nimble fingers. He stands, stretches, retrieves his pack and weaponry, and exits the cart, pausing to offer his arm to Kalig and Breaca as they exit.

This done, he stops to briefly adjust his hair and clothes, then takes his first deep breath of Sandpoint air, smelling the goods of the festival, and the warm, salty breeze from the coast. This is it, Horatio. Go show them what you're made of.

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

He walks through the streets to the town square, smiling warmly to those who greet him, heading to the stage as various dignitaries give their speeches. He pays particular attention to Cyrdak Drokkus, memorizing the man's face - the man who will give him an audition later, he simply knows it. He claps politely at the end of each speech, paying the right amount of attention, but keeping the right amount of alertness, particularly as he sees the halfling from the cart swapping coin between people in the crowd.

He then sees the gnome setting up a puppet stage. He joins the small crowd in front of her, curious to see her talent, and making up his mind to start playing after she finishes. She was a nice enough sort, after all, and he didn't want to steal her audience. He sees the half-orc woman standing a few feet away, and nods to her, smiling.


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7

Kalig's earlier joke was missed, but she was appreciative of Horatio's favorable response. It was certainly the first time she could recall someone inviting her to learn poetry. Perhaps she would. Why not? The world still had much to show her.

She nods back to him when he sees her watching the puppet show--itself a curious display. She thinks back and from the misty memories of her early childhood, the puppets remind her of a doll Taig had given her, long ago lost. A curious way of telling stories, she thought, but as fascinating as Merwyn's earlier exchanges with Miro. She waits to hear what happens next.


Male Human (Chelaxian) Bard 3
Quick stats:
AC 14, T12, FF12; HP 21/21; F +2, R +5, W +3 (+4 vs. bardic performance, sonic, language-dependant); CMD 14; Init +2; Perc +6; SM +5; Bardic performance 18/18 rounds remaining; Spells 1st-level 2/4 remaining

Horatio would have picked up on it if I'd been more awake at the time. That's what happens when I post before my morning cuppa. >.>


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn continued. As the gnolls swept in, riding their fearsome beasts, the gnomes scattered from their festivities, diving into their nearby hidey holes. Our heroine quickly ducked under hat to escape detection, but the radiant Katapeshi maiden was dragged off into the desert. Our heroine packed up her supplies and trudged into the desert after the slavers.

Their destination was the fabulous bazaar of Katapesh, the mercantile jewel of the region. With all the different types of people walking around, our gnomish heroine didn't make much of a splash, even with her forest gnome garb and out-of-town accent. In the auction square, buyers were bidding rapidly, receipts were written, and slaves were ushered out every few seconds. An ostentatiously dressed man with a large feathered turban was the most visible of the buyers, chiming in occasionally with massive bids on only the most attractive of the female slaves. These slaves were then dressed in colorful garbs and ushered into a waiting caravan. Soon enough, our heroine noticed that the maiden was sent onto the auction block, immediately purchased by the wealthy man, and ushered into the caravan. Our heroine stopped at a nearby stall and purchased a similar colorful robe, before quietly slipping into the caravan after her...

"That's all for now folks! If you liked what you saw, ask the Sandpoint theater to book a performance and you can find out what happens next." Merwyn starts packing up her supplies.


Male Human (Chelaxian) Bard 3
Quick stats:
AC 14, T12, FF12; HP 21/21; F +2, R +5, W +3 (+4 vs. bardic performance, sonic, language-dependant); CMD 14; Init +2; Perc +6; SM +5; Bardic performance 18/18 rounds remaining; Spells 1st-level 2/4 remaining

Horatio claps politely as the gnome finishes her performance, flipping a gold coin towards her. Probably unnecessary, but he could appreciate a good performance. And now for his own...

Rolling his wrists and tugging on his fingertips to limber up, he looks around for a good spot, and finds one soon enough - pleasantly shaded, relatively central, and not too close to any stalls or games - not so close as to be a nuisance. He crouches on the ground, shrugs off his pack, and opens his violin case carefully.

The instrument is old, that much is immediately apparent. It's scratched in places that polish and care can't cover, despite his best efforts. The bow is long and slender, already rosined, its string made of hippogriff tail hair. He picks up both gently, like a man stroking his lover's hair, then stands, leaving the open case on the ground at his feet.

He straightens his back. Takes a few deep breaths. Scans his memory for an appropriate piece. Puts the bow to the strings. Closes his eyes. Starts tapping his foot to act as a metronome. And finally, begins playing.

The tune is at once clear and bright, the notes floating through the air and drawing a few eyes. A smile floats across his face - this is what he was born to do.


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn catches the coin and puts it in her pocket, before collecting the assorted coppers and silvers from the basket nearby. She finds a nice place away from the traffic to sit and listen to Horatio play, drifting into a pleasant trance between being asleep and awake. She sways slightly with the rhythm of the music and her pointy hat moves back and forth like a pendulum.

Do you happen to be a musician by any chance? I would not have thought that someone who was not would know about rosin unless you did some research.


Male Halfling Rogue 3

Yes I was impressed as well. Apparently a random collection of musicians have accumulated here, although my instrument of choice is the piano


Urban Druid 6 [ HP: 42/42 AC: 16 T: 11 FF: 15 | CMD 17 | Fort +6, Ref +4, Will +8 +1 vs death +2 vs div/ench| Init +1 Perc: +12/+14 scavenger; Dkvision, Scent; Surv +14 | Goodberries 7/7

I actually do play the violin, although I am rather rusty. It's not often it's someone's instrument of choice in an RPG since it requires two hands to play, so it's cool to see it.

As Merwyn departs the performance area, Kalig leans toward the gnome to speak to her quietly. Her eyes are alight with genuine interest. "Have you really been to the desert?"

Kalig had never really been outside Varisia, although that was a large enough region to experience a number of landscapes--but hot desert was not really one of them.


Female Gnome Sorcerer

Merwyn turns to Kalig and whispers to her, so as to not disturb the violin performance. "Yes, at least I'm pretty sure I've been there." She hesitates slightly. "Everything that happened there though, um , I am not sure if they actually did. The heat does play tricks with the mind..."

"On the other hand, I know that I did get these robes from Katapesh and everything after that seemed real enough. Either way, it still makes for a great story."

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