The 23rd day of the month of Rova.
One hour after sunup.
For five years, the faithful of Sandpoint have attended church in temporary structures erected after fire destroyed the previous temple, and while their new religious leader was helpful, kind, and wise, church wasn’t the same. Now, the new cathedral is finally done. All that remains is for the Swallowtail Festival to renew the site’s blessings from the gods and it will be as if the Sandpoint Fire had never occurred.
The square before the church is quickly becoming crowded as locals and travelers arrive, and several merchant tents featuring food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs are there to meet you.
For those newly arrived to the town, E'Terah, Masao and Alaren, this is a grand site indeed. The entirety of the town is on hand, and the festive mood rides the air like a bird in flight.
Even those with familiar ties and roots to sandpoint can see the effect of the celebration. Haley Kindel observes that even the Sczarni, know for mischief and mayhem on the best of days, seem to be keeping their hands in their own pockets this morning.
As Dairkal makes his way to the square, a small group of children wave excitedly and ask if will be juggling later in the afternoon. Weaving their hands in the air and giggling as they do so.
In but a few short minutes the welcoming speeches will begin. Once that formality is over, the festival will officially commence.
Time to claim you vantage point (or not) to hear the speaches . . .
It has been over 5 years since Haley has walked through the city and longer still since being the small, tanned girl who chased seagulls down the coast. Not much has changed, really. The people still have the ruddy faces and welcoming smiles that have become a trademark of the city and the Swallowtail festival has made them all the more friendly.
Haley has changed though. Besides being a woman in the full bloom of her own beauty and charisma, the network of spiraling tattoos that dance upon her skin catches more than a few glances. She returns these glances with a quick and ready smile that meets her eyes. She has only had these tattoos but a few weeks and knows little of their origin, but she is not one to hide the essence of who she is. In her own small way, the idea of being a spectacle of the festival surpasses being a mere patron.
As she approaches the prestigious new temple that awaits its official opening, a chill runs down her forearms despite the summer heat. It is the rush of childish guilt that the maturing mind struggles to shake. She remembers the flames that devoured the halls of Desna and the way it had made her heart rush. Could the heart pump fire and not burn away?
She stands there, a face in the crowd, peering up at the marvel of mortal design and accomplishment and wonders if the Gods are ever in awe of the places built to honor them.
Perception 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (11) + 1 = 12
The slender half-elf and tattooed Human females stroll through the courtyard observing the natives and their surroundings.
The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers prepare to deliver short and hopefully well-received words of welcome to the festival goers.
Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to town and jokes about how even Larz Rovanky, the local tanner (and notorious workaholic) managed to tear himself away from the tannery to attend, much to everyone’s amusement (except Larz’s).
Sheriff Belor Hemlock takes the stage next. His dour mood brings the crowd down a bit with his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church several years ago.
The next speaker is scheduled to be local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitsu, but a sudden illness has prevented him from attending the ceremony (this isn’t something that surprises the locals, given Lonjiku’s well-known dislike of frivolity and festivals).
Sandpoint’s own showman Cyrdak Drokkus, a working colleague of Dairkel, is more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes. He delivers a not-completely-irreverent 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, as is his wont, inviting everyone to stop by the Sandpoint Theater the following evening to check out his new production of “The Harpy’s Curse,” revealing that the lead role of Avisera the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda!
Finally, Father Zantus steps up to give a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
We'll be getting into the action shortly. I just want to give everyone a chance to finish up any fiddly bits with their stats before using them.
The odd she-dwarf waddled her way through the bustling press of bodies that fairly clogged the hard packed dirt streets of Sandpoint,evading elbows and hips from the longshanked humans that wandered past. Those that did see her quickly moved aside at her hard frown,her full lips turning it into a angry pout.
The crest of her Mohawk sliced through the throng like the dorsal fin of a shark. It added nearly another foot to her height of 4'3". Her flaring sideburns framed her face,curling about her high cheekbones. A pair of braided pigtails trailed to her waist,each end capped with a lead barette shaped like a mole.Her fuschia hair earned several blinks and double-takes as it constrasted sharply with her mahogany skin. Eyes the color of warm honey-mead peered out from behind a pair of rectangular wire-rimmed spectacles that sat upon her button nose.
Perception1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
She made her way through the town's square,passing a halfling surrounded by a group of chattering human children who whirled a brow at her. The constant din of conversation and laughter reminded her of the babble a flowing creek made on a pleasant morning. It made her lips curl into a faint smile.
Her leather overtunic with its long flowing skirt resembled a dress that swept over the dusty ground and hugged wide hips suited to her race. A bright yellow blouse with lace edged hem and sleeves,a leather drawstring tied neatly into a bow that sat upon her ample bosom showed where her leather lamellar armor allowed.Hips and braids swinging in sync like a pendelum,the she-dwarf dwarf trudged her way to where she saw a growing gathering of assorted people.
So this here's Sandpoint... Her voice was a husky murmur laced with a thick accent.
She found herself unable to see over the backs of taller members of the crowd. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she found a barrel to clamber onto. Crossing her legs under her dress,she scanned the crowd.
After the speeches conclude, the grounds and roads of Sandpoint transform into a bustling festival. Shopkeepers display wares in an open air market style under colorful tents decorated with banners and ribbons. Musicians play a variety of stringed and wind instrument, each with a different tune and song, yet somehow, it all blends beautifull to the ear as you walk about the town. Smells of exotic dishes from local eateries linger lazily in the air as they begin the process of preparing the afternoon lunch, and offering small tasty treats to tide the crowds over 'till then. Of course, none wants to spoil the crowds appetite, since the official community judging declaring "Best of Swallowtail Festival 4707" brings not only prestige, but increase revenue as well.
Many other bragging rights are up for grabs at the annual celebration. Several notable Sandpoint residences have set up games of skill and chance for those willing to try.
Setup along the beach near the old lighthouse, an archery booth with unusual shaped targets stands ready as a stocky balding hawker yells out Who's the best archer in Sandpoint?! Challenge the Devils Hunt and all will find out!
Near the market square a man hawks Throw the goblins in the fire, win a prize!. He stands before his booth with several goblin shaped beanbags a few paces away from a painted mock-up of a fireplace with holes cut into it.
A short distance away near the base of the lighthouse, a well made mini catapult stands twenty feet in front of six stone blocks stacked on top of each other. Knock down the lighthouse, win a mini-catapult!
Also in the Sandpoint Market Square are two double lane tracks set up next to each other with various lizards painted bright colors with cloth dragon wings attached to them. Dragon races! Come play the dragon races! echoes through the square.
In addition, there seem to be a large pin, a greased pig, and a crown laughing and daring each other to enter.
A strength game calling itself "The Ogre Smash", where participants hit a board with a mallet, sending a weight up a pole towards a bell.
Lastly, at the entrance way to the Pixie's Kitten, there seems to be some activity involving a woman on a table, alcoholic spirits, her belly button and a lemon.
Feel free to explore and partake as much or as little as you like with the festival activities. The ceremonial releasing of the Swallowtails will precede lunch at noon.
E-Terah perked up as she realized she had happened upon the proceedings of a festival. Her mouth watered at the aromatic smell of seasoned foods as she had neglected to eat after the business with the goblins attacking the carriage and the driver fleeing.
She hopped off the barrel and went to sample meats,stews,and pastries that were offered,giving a silver coin in a tip out of courtesy.
When she heard someone bellow about tossing goblins into a fire and winning a prize, she sought the Booth out. Her eyes shined with amusement.
Dair laughs at the children and stops for a few moments to tease them with a brief juggling show and a few simple sleight of hand tricks "Alrighly, run along now. I'll do a longer show later, promise"
He then heads over to the church for the opening ceremony and speeches. As he's much shorter than everybody else, he back flips up onto whatever high perch he can find to watch the proceedings.
Once its all over, he wanders the town, stopping ever so often for a little performance. Since he's been in Sandpoint for about two months now, he's rather well known and usually doesn't mind being asked to display his talents.
Haley does her best to listen to the various speakers with some reverence, but by the time Sheriff Hemlock begins his lengthy speech on fire safety she decides to move towards the edges of the crowd out of boredom. Looping her arm around the arm of the biggest Sczarni lad, she leads the group towards the game and competitions area.
Haley flirts and laughs and gossips with the other teenagers, but her focus is truly on the interesting folk around her. Her years in Magnimar have awoken in her a passion for other cultures and she can't help but notice the exotic looking E-Terah, the graceful Alaren and Dair's delightful performance.
When a deep voice booms out- "Throw the goblins in the fire, win a prize!"- she can hardly contain her excitement and urges the group over. However, seeing it is nothing more than beanbags and wood, she sighs and looks for something else to keep her interest. When the Sczarni boy wins her a plush seagull she gives him a weak smile and the toy to a passing child.
"I believe I've lost my taste for trinkets today boys, but I do have a sudden thirst and a craving for lemon." Haley grins and heads over towards the Pixie's Kitten with the Sczarni eager to keep up.
Masao watched the festivities from the balcony of the room he'd rented. He'd gotten to Sandpoint several days ago, but the preparation for the festival hadn't quite begun. He'd managed to find a room on the second floor close to the square. He'd spent nearly all his remaining funds on it, but being able to relax and just step out to watch while being close to his items. As the festivities began and the announcements of the various games took place, none of the announced games seemed to catch his attention.
However, when his stomach began making noises of hunger, the smells of the treats being fixed for the crowd began to take hold and he smiled. Taking up his sword, he made sure the peacebond was in place and walked down the stairs toward the vendors. He had to sidestep a female dwarf leaving the foods for the Goblin Toss, and smiled as he watched a bunch of children gathered around what appeared to be a halfling entertaining them.
How much different this seemed than his home. He shook his head to get the idea of home out of his mind. Softly to himself he muttered "No sense thinking about that, it's going to be quite a while before you can return..."
E-Terah approached the Booth where a man had a pile of crudely stitched beanbag goblins and painted holes to resemble flaming pits.
She crunched into the ale-batter fried fish on a stick she was thoroughly enjoying. It was pretty flavorful for something humans cooked as she found their food lacking. That and their ale.
Swallowing,she cleared her throat and smiled at the man,who stared at her hard.Hmm. How do I play?
Bussy double work day, plus mother-in-law is over needing care after a knee replacement. I only snuck in time for two of you in this post, I'll see if I can get to you others tonight, if not look for a post from me first thing tomorrow.
Two teenage townsfolk stand with bows drawn as the man gives his instructions
Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil and keep him from menacing the surrounding area? Take a shot and see.
The two eager younglings loose their arrows.
1d20 ⇒ 15
1d20 ⇒ 8
One young man hits the third ring from the center and yells out a hoot. The other hit the targets tail and yell out curses.
Hurrah. A good effort both. He hands one lad a small trinket, and the other he just pats on the shoulder.
Who's next to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil?
Ho' there! Elf. That's a fine longbow ya have there. Can 'ya shoot wit' this one?
The grinning game master holds out one of the identical selection of bows that all challengers must use for this sport.
One copper, gets ya one arrow!
The muscular game master with the calloused hands of a working man hears your query.
OH! My stout friend, three Goblins have found their way into your house and are tearing the place up! Grab them and toss them into the fireplace before they can destroy everything.
He points to three buckets of beanbags sewn to look like Goblins by each of three stations. Then gestures to a board 10 feet from a throw line. The closest hole is the largest and the farthest hole is the smallest.
Tha' first hole is fer the' children. Tha' second if fer ya woman folk, and the last and hardest if few the men folk. One copper buy's ya in, and the winner gets a piece o' real goblin jerky!
E-Terah made a face at the mention of 'goblin jerky' as it sounded unpleasant. But she grabbed one of the goblin beanbags,her large gloved hand swallowing it.
She gave him three coppers,dropping the polished pennies into his noticeably smaller,hairier hand.
Then she aimed at the furthest,smallest hole. She tossed the first 'goblin' at the board. It bounced with a rattle of beans...
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2
...and promptly bounced right back at her to smack her between the eyes! She frowned in slight embarrassment as it slid off the board and onto the street. She stamped on it and smothered its crooked stitched-on smile.
Seizing another beanbag,she tried again with less force in a weak overhand toss...
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (17) + 1 = 18
...and her face bloomed into a triumphant smirk when it dropped directly through the small hole! She took up the third one and tried once more.
1d20 + 1 ⇒ (20) + 1 = 21
The she-dwarf tossed the third beanbag in a hard overhand dunk that made the painted board jump as it passed through the furthest smallest hole and nearly flipped it over! She let out an amused chortle.
Ho ho! Two Goblin tossed into the firepit after the first got away. Guess it can tell any others to stay well away, she jested,winking at the vendor.
She picked up the trodden upon beanbag and squeezed it violently,its button eyes bulging. She proceeded to kick it into the air,catching it with her heel before it hit the ground in a impromptu game hacky sack.She began to juggle the beanbag goblin with her heeled,polished boots,drawing onlookers.
Think I'll keep this as a part me prize,eh? And whate'vea goblin jerky is.
As you wander the festival, your keen halfling sense of hearing overhears two women talking.
"I don't know about that Tsuto," one woman says. "He's always been a strange boy. And even more so of late."
"Now, don't you go on about him again," the other says. "You know he's had a rough time of it - what with being a bastard child. Leave him alone."
You and your entourage approach the Pixie's Kitten. There you see one of the establishments employees, a lovely human woman, laying topless atop a table. Another employee is pouring an alcoholic spirit into her belly button, and placing a lemon wedge into her mouth. A burly human, sailer most likely by the manner of his dress and use of colorful language. Two other sailers standing near by give him enourgement.
Hy’ Bruno, ya’ kin’ du it’. on’ mor an ya gat ah freebee n’side, harr harrr.
To which the other replies Aye, an’ ifv’ ya tu drunk ta do da deed, I’a take ya fee turn fer yea.
The first onlooker grabs the other by the shirt collor
Wha’ yer mean, I’ze da one wh’ gabe Bruno th’ copper pe’ce in’a da firt place
Bruno bends at the waist, pausing to keep his ballance. Slurps the liquor, pause. stagers, pauses, bends a grabs the lemon wedge with his yellow teeth. Stand up, up, back, back, then all the way back collapsing on the pavement in a drunk blackout.
The sailors whoop and holler saying that Bruno won the game. The working ladies say he did not because he failed to put the lemon into the bowl as he did with the previous six.
The pirates say they will claim his prize anyway, and move towards the ladies.
As Masao explores the festival he can't help but notice a fiery coral haired female dwarf bellowing exchanges with an older human over something called goblin jerky. Turning from that you stare straight into the eyes of a beautiful Tian woman looking you over. Nice Kikko armor. True Tian craftsmanship. Not the knock off stuff some roughnecks wear. Visiting for the festival adventurer? Oh, I'm Ameiko Kaijitsu, owner or the Rusty Dragon. She extends her hand, looks at it then retracts it back. In place of the traditional western greeting, she bows forward twenty degrees, keeping eye contact with Masao.
Well done, Lady Dwarf!
Here’s your prize. One stick of genuine goblin jerky. He gives you a quick wink before addressing the gathered children.
Goblin jerky is best when made while their muscles are still twitch’n, hee hee.
The kids run off screaming. Not sure if they should believe the man of not.
Names Daverin Hosk of Goblin Squash Stables. That’s a good bit o’ aiming you did there, lady . . . He pauses as one does when exchanging greetings for the first time.
Having been in Sandpoint for several months, do I know anything about Tsuto?
Spying a rather interesting looking female human covered in tattoos, Dair follows her. He knew a few Varisians that sported similar ink and they were some of his favorite people.
Upon arriving and hearing the pirates unpleasant talk, he unsheathes his rapier, but pauses to see if he needs to intervene.
…The name's E-Terah Deepheavy,daughter o' Torgil Terah Deepheavy. Me da owns the farmstead thirty miles from here along the Lost Coast. Deepheavy Farmstead and Houndshearth Kennels. We breed dwarven warhounds and riding dogs. If its a gob,it's dead.I heard o' ya. Good work you be doin'.
The she-dwarf took his extended hand in her own,larger gloved one in a firm shake,careful not to apply too much pressure lest she break the bones in his hand. He was a burly older human male but she already knew from past experience other non-dwarves weren't as sturdy--like the time she'd accidentally broke a half-elf's wrist by gripping too hard.
Ironically,I'm only 'ere coz th' carriage I rode here got attacked by a gang of gobs with fireworks. The damned coward of a driver unhitched the horse an' rode off,leaving me t' fend fo' myself. I got one in th' eye with me crossbow and scared off the rest with a barrage o' stone shards from me...ocular abilities. She shrugged her shoulder,jostling the peacebonded reloading light crossbow upon her back and the dwarven maulaxe at her hip.
Imma farmer first an' foremost but busting hobbies comes with th' job. I shoulda bought along one of me da's dogs along. I'll admit I don't like horses all that much--a paladin's unruly stallion tried to mash me. But if'n ya happen t' have a sturdy donkey in them stables o' yours,I'd gladly take one. Donkeys make pretty decent guards--ever seen gobbies flee from braying donkeys and run straight off a cliff?
Then she eyed the offered prize,frowning uneasily.…That's not really goblin flesh,is it? I hate th' little menaces but I'd neva actually eat 'em.
Masao's eyes widened a bit in surprise and he then smiled as the young lady reminded him of his homeland and it's customs. He returned the bow in traditional fashion, matching her bow in the same manner showing his respect. "Indeed it is Tian. My Sensei would have quality and functionality come first for his students. I am Masao Takeru. I heard many thing of the festival and had to see it for myself. Unfortunately I did not take into account the many costs associated with such a venture, the foremost of which was residing among so many non-Tian. After being here a few days, I feel very much wishing I had not left home."
Masao paused a moment as he realized he'd been droning on about matters best forgotten and let a genuine smile appear. "Forgive me. I did not mean to prattle on. You are an innkeeper? I mean no disrespect, but that does seem a bit unusual for a Tian woman. How did that come about?"
With a snap of her fingers Haley summons to mind a simple cantrip, the smallest of sparks to catch the hem of Bruno's tunic on fire. She hopes the alcohol and the commotion can keep her part in it a secret.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
Pardon me, gentlemen, but your ring leader there seems to be on fire.
Haley slips past the group of pirates, certain the lot of them will be able to beat the flames out before they do any serious damage, and she claims a lemon with her teeth before smoothly placing it in the bowl. She sets one of her few gold coins in the woman's navel with a smile.
Why don't you take the rest of the day off? The locals don't mix well when they've had too much to drink.
Helping the woman to her feet, she glances back at the situation with the rowdy pirates to see if things are heating up. She would never admit it to herself, but she has never been able to look away from a fire that she started for long.
Alaren smiles at the two younglings as they walk away and steps up to the selection of bows.
She hands him thee coopers. Three arrows please. Do I get to choose the bow?
She chooses the straightest bow from the selection. She also chooses the straightest of the arrows from the selection.
She picks up the first of the three arrows. Stands up straight and then notches the arrow into the bow. Takes aim, breaths in and then releases the arrow along with her breath.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (14) + 3 = 17
She smiles at the result. Adjusting for the bow she takes aim with the second arrow.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (3) + 3 = 6
She frowns. Not so great with that one
Notching the last arrow to the bow, she smiles, takes aim and then releases.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (13) + 3 = 16
She shrugs her shoulder at the results and looks at the bow again. Thank you for the fun. She smiles at the man at the booth.
She looks around the crowd on the beach.
Perception check 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (16) + 8 = 24
We are now splitting into two timelines. The current time, and what we shall call the previous or flashback time. Each of you can continue or wrap up the flashback time at you own pace, allowing the “main” story to continue at a good pace. Please post any questions or concerns regarding this in the discussion thread to keep this one clean.
Current time advance 4 hours to noon.
Previous time started at 8am
At noon, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon into the square, and after recounting the short parable of how Desna first fell to earth and was nursed back to health by a blind child whom she transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid, they pull aside the wagon’s cover, releasing the thousand children of Desna—a furious storm of swallowtail butterflies that swarm into the air in a spiraling riot of color to a great cheer from the crowd. Throughout the rest of the day, children futilely chase butterflies, never quite quick enough to catch them.
Lunch is provided free, at the expense of Sandpoint’s taverns. Each brings its best dishes—this event is as much a marketing push by the taverns to win new customers as it is to feed a hungry crowd. It soon becomes apparent that the darling of the lunch is, once again, Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead easily overshadow the other offerings, such as the Hagfish’s lobster chowder or the White Deer’s peppercorn venison.
Having spent time in Sandpoint, it’s difficult to not hear whispers and gossip about it’s more colorful citizens, including Tsuto. He is the son of Lonjiku Kaijitsu, one of, it not the richest person in Sandpoint. With Tsuto’s faint elven features, the truth of his bastard heritage is obvious when compared to his full blooded Tien father. Tsuto has been mysterious and cagey of late, leading to an increase of gossip among those who partake is such pastimes.
As for the ladies and the pirates, you manage to deliver your greeting just as the tattooed woman who cought your eye turns to leave.
See Haley’s adventure for further details)
The burly man does not flinch from your handshake. His grip squeezes back, like a steel vice.
Good grip there lady dwarf. Firm and honest.
Sounds like ya love squashing gobs almost as much as I. If ya want ta see a real treat, come by my stables after the festival, and I’ll show ya my collection. I’ll also ask about a bit reguardin’ those other matters you mentioned.
He turns back to the growing line of contestants waiting to test themselves on his game.
He pause and turns back again, speaking in hushed tones.
oh . .dont tell the younglings, but it’s beef jerky. Don’t want to spoil there fun though . .heeheee
He turn back to his game
Who’s next to toss them gobs into the fireplace before they can destroy everything. . . .
The Tian woman smiles warmly.
Good to meet you, Masao Takeru. You wish tales of my story? It is long and detailed, as I’m sure is yours.
She looks about the festival, pleased with the morning activities.
If you have no lodgings in town, my Inn caters to adventurers. But even if you do, I am in my tavern every evening telling stories and the occasional song. Stop by and we can swap tails.
With a final smile, she turns and weaves into the crowd.
Bruno’s pant leg burst into flame. The other pirates seeing this, leap about and curse as they wildly beat the flames with rags and odd bits to put out the fire.
The working ladies take advantage of the distraction and quietly slide into the establishments entrance and out of site. The slide bolt can be herd locking form the inside.
As you look back a moment later, charred pant leg is all that remains of your once beautiful fire. The pirates have hoisted the still unconscious Bruno under his arms and are staggering through the crowd towards the dock district.
As you turn back to leave, a friendly Halfling voice says Lovely day, is it not? Hot too, if clothes are randomly catching fire
Two of you arrows strike just inside of the best landed one thus far today. The third lost a fletch and veered far off it course. Such as it is with such game.
Very well done. Not your first time with a bow I see.
He hands you a small “child of Desna” trinket. A Swallowtail made out of an fletch arrow.
As you examine the beach, you notice two scruffy pirates cursing and carrying a third who has, for some reason, a burnt pant leg.
The she-dwarf stepped aside from the Goblin Toss Booth,winking at several teenage humans who flushed as she waved the stick of 'goblin jerky' she'd won and the battered goblin beanbag,tying a thin strap of leather around its neck and attaching it to the handle of her maulaxe like a charm.
A small boy,a toddler by the size of him,stepped out from his mother's skirts to tug on hers. She raised her eyebrows at him quizzically. He bared gums and tiny teeth and reached,patting at his scruffy head.
Hesitantly,she squatted down to his level so he could gingerly pet her fuschia hair. He dissolved into a giggling fit and hid behind his mother,who gave her a pleased smile. She trained and made her way over to something called the Ogre Smash.
She flexed a thick arm beneath her blouse. Surely she was strong enough to ring a bell. Farm work wasn't for weaklings!
Oi,I'd like t' try me arm at this,the she -dwarf said to the man slouched behind the Booth.
She saw a gangly human male,barely a man with a wisp of a beard,struggle to lift the mallet. Several other males flexed while a smattering of watching females giggled or fawned at the shows of strength or swell of muscle.
She watched them curiously as she stepped up for turn. How much t' play?
Alaren takes the trinket and smiles at the keeper of the game. She looks at the sailors as the drag thier companion down the beach towards the docks. She continues to look around and watches the Dwarf wonder over to the Ogre Smash. She pauses briefly to watch the game then wonders back up to the festival area by the cathedral.
Alaren watches the release of the swallowtails and smiles as Densa has truly blessed this days festivities. After the festival meal by the merchants of Sandpoint she decides to send the night and see what tomorrow brings. She begins to search for an available room at an Inn and to see if there are any type of merchant who may have anything related to here studies of the Thassilon Empire or a map of the local ruin sites.
Perception check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (1) + 8 = 9
Ouch! Guess Alaren is distractive by all the shiny things and good smells.
Haley smiles at the halfling she noticed earlier entertaining the kids. The Sczarni boys frown when she turns her back on them to speak with Dairkal.
You really couldn't ask for a better day, truly. A bit of spontaneous flame on beer stained pirates makes it all the better.
Haley grins and offers her hand.
My name is Haley Kindel and I couldn't help but notice you keeping the local children happy. No easy feat when they have a festival to hold their attention. I am quite impressed.
The smell of food mingled with the clatter of fork and knife catch her attention and she inclines towards the lunch tables and tents with a nod of her fiery red hair. She has decided she has found a friend and someone to break bread with.
Care for some lunch?
Dair smiles at Haley's compliment "I've been doin this for a long time. Not hard to keep a kid's attention when you haven't fully grown up yourself" He says with a laugh.
At the mention of food, he nods his agreement. "Ameiko's dish is rumored to be the best every year. I'm interested to see what she's cooked up." He puts his weapon away and offers his hand to Haley "Shall we mi lady?"
Haley takes the halfling by the hand and leads him over to the long wooden tables that have been set up for the meal. She samples each dish, a little more here and a little less there, and finds her solace in a tall mug of the winterdrop mead which is brisk considering the heat of the day.
She tells Dairkal small details about her life, how she was raised in Sandpoint but has spent the last several years in the sprawling streets of Magnimar. She'll answer any questions or curiosities he may have boldly and usually grins and comments on inquiries that could be considered too personal for a first conversation.
She also listens and listens well. The greatest gift of a place like Magnimar has been its varied peoples and she sits in awe of other races and their history and lore. If Dairkal has a story to tell she wants to hear it in full grandeur.
After the meal, she sits back on the grass and watches the butterflies spiral against the blue of the sky, sneaking sips from a second mug of winterdrop.
It is a good day. They all eagerly await the closing ceremonies and the official opening of the new Temple's ornate doors.
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The she-dwarf eagerly took a seat at the long wooden tables when she heard the distinct words of 'free lunch'. Satisfied from her try at the Ogre Smash and Goblin Toss and getting requests from human children to touch her hair,she was quiet famished.
She drew the attention of many humans as she amassed enough plates for three individuals and started to devour their contents. The scrape of fork and spoon and the clatter of rapidly emptying dishware became a steady rhythm from the she-dwarf. All washed down with pleasantly chilled winterdrop mead she approved of with an enthusiastic wave of her mug for refills.
The lobster chowder,filled with hearty potato and corn and a mild cheese,was sipped up with a dark loaf of sweet black bread. She would definitely visit the Hagfish later on.
The curried salmon tasted quite flavorful and spicy,especially with a side of minced vegetable pie,considering she disliked the taste of the red fish usually.
The peppercorn venison soaked in ale and grilled with red rings of onion and crushed garlic was the second best. She stripped a shank bone with her teeth in one pull,keeping her mouth clamped shut and still appearing neat and polite table manners despite her ravenous appetite. A slice of mild,white spotted cheese and the soft black bread accompanied it.
She carefully wiped her face and hands with a soapy cloth,stepping back from the table with a respectful curtsey and nod of her head. She pulled her leather gloves back on,hiding long squared painted nails.
Absolutely delicious,ya'll.My compliments t' th' cooks!
Letting out a muffled belch through her nose,the she-dwarf waddled off once more. A cooling seabreeze swept through the streets of Sandpoint,sending the hundreds of fluttering swallowtail butterflies scattering prettily in the sky and amongst the crowd. Her Mohawk shuddered like a sail and her braids fluttered like banners. Her heavy leather skirt barely rippled.
Haley quickly finds out that Dairkal is full of questions, though he's apt at avoiding too many rude or overly personal ones. Once he seems to have his fill of answers, he'll launch into storytelling mode. His stories are all of the various adventures he's had around Varisia, and he tells them masterfully, changing pitch and tone, and mimicking sounds like wolf howls, thunder and even the pitter patter of rain almost supernaturally.
He rather likes this mysterious tattooed young lady and enjoys telling stories as well. Thus, he's a bit oblivious to the fact he's gathered a small audience of children once again, paying rapt attention to his every detail.
Alaren wanders the streets after lunch and comes upon a Halfling surrounded by children as well as a beautiful human female with spiraling tattoos. The once that catch Alaren's gaze are the tattoos shaped like arching dragons in flight. She smiles and listens as the Halfling tells his story.
Finally, as the sun begins to set, the games are long shut down. The smells of cooking food have cleared the air, as fast as the dishes from the tables. The mood turns solemn as everyones focus is brought back to the spiritual significance of this day.
A sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, slices through the excited crowd as the sun’s setting rays paint the western sky. Father Zantus has taken the central podium and uses a thunderstone to attract everyone’s attention.
It’s time to recite the Prayer of First Dreaming.
A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake, and the buzz of dozens conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus has taken the stage. He clears his throat, takes a breath to speak, and
suddenly a woman’s scream slices through the air!
The air is deathly still a moment as everyone ponders if this is a theatrical event, or if something is really amiss.
A few moments later, another scream rises,
Beyond you, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises— high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human.
The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pools around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
Echoing from every direction, and yet from nowhere, is a haunting song
<Goblins chew and Goblins bite.
Goblins cut and Goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!>*
*Sung in Goblin. Scratchy off key screeches, like long nails on rusty metal for those not versed in the language of Goblin.
ADVENTURERS! What do you do? Flee and run away? Hide with the children under the tables? Loot the town and make off with the goods?
Or do you put all personal safety aside and defend those who cannot defend themselves?
It’s up to you!
Ah! Mistress She-Dwarf. Come to test yer’ mettle against the smash have ya’.
Harr. Should be spectacle to see. As ta’ the cost. It’s one copper, same as most, donated ta’ the Temple in honor of this day.
In front of you is a pivot with one weighty rock laying on the lower side of it. The rock rests up against a narrow metal board with a bell fixed to the top of it. The idea is to hit the raised side of the pivot (closest to you) to see how high you can make the rock fly!
On the metal backboard are markings to measure how far up the player has managed to launch the rock. A chalk mark about two thirds up marks the current champion.
A giant wooden mallet affixed to an great ax handle leans temptingly beside the game. A crown gathers to see the brightly hewn newcomer test her skill.
roll as though making a melee attack against the pivot.
After the events with pirates and working ladies, the two adventures share lunch and stories throughout the afternoon. A slender elf, or perhaps half-elf upon closer study, garbed in the trail worn leathers of a seasoned ranger, eats nearby and seems to be enjoying the stories openly thrown about.
Alaren turns toward the Father Zantus after he uses the thunderstone and watches as the sun in the western sky as he begins. She is startled by the sound of a women's scream and begins looking around for the disturbance.
Hearing the "Goblin Song" for what it is she yells - GOBLINS!
Perception Check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18 Alaren looks for the Goblins as well as a good advantage point from where to start killing them. She also looks for other fighters or townsfolk to team up with.
She immediately pulls the the longbow from her back and notches the first bow as she looks around for the hungry looking little monsters and prepares to defend the area from the foul little creatures.
Under her breath she murmurs "I hate Goblins.
9.a.m. Previously Ogre Smash
The she-dwarf drew herself up and snatched up the cobbled mallet. She gave it a casual twirl upon her gloved fingers as it weighted a fraction of what it did. Several members of the crowd gasped and a boy who had struggled with it prior gave an embarrassed flush.
Perform1d20 ⇒ 10 Untrained
Then she gripped it in both hands and swung the mallet at the lever in a downward chop,like she would a wooden post.
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (2) + 2 = 4Using Str mod
The bell jumped up and flopped back down with a pitiful clang.The crowd burst into mild jeers at her previous bravado.She scowled at it as though it had personally insulted her. Hair actually bristling with annoyance,the she-dwarf produced another copper from her cleavage and stubbornly tried again.
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (5) + 2 = 7
…and promptly dropped the crude mallet in disgust,tossing her hands up with a snort and trudging off. She gave a derisive smirk. At least she tried.
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E-Terah had been steadily honing the blade of her maulaxe with a whetstone as she enjoyed the breathtaking view of the coastol sunset and the shapes of several dozen swallowtails lazily drifting through the air.
Having digested her hearty meal and sharpening her maulaxe,she considered heading over to the Goblin Squash Stables since the festival was clearly coming to an end. The cracking report of a thunderstone striking the square's cobblestone made her glance up from her work as she sat upon a closed barrel.
Apparently the cleric was about to make an announcement--before the screams interrupted him.
Perception1d20 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 1 = 15
Then she heard it as the solemn crowd rippled and burst into confused activity-- the shrill,gibberish of goblins! Old hate born of instinct and recent fury of what had happened to her at dawn prior to coming to Sandpoint flared into spitting vehemence.
Baring her teeth in a sneer,Mohawk actually bristling, the she-dwarf hopped off the barrel and hooked her sharpened maulaxe to her belt. Breaking the peacebonded ribbon with a snap of her teeth,she pulled the repeating light crossbow off her back and slapped a case of bolts into place. She held it in both hands,one gripping its stock while the other curled around the reloading lever.
As she could hear them and were distinctly aware of the danger,she felt her throat tighen and her ears pop as her curse took hold.
Once the scene of battle unfolds,
Dwarven oracle of the stone
Shall be deaf and speak only
Terran Tongue takes you boldly
The riddle of her curse echoed in her head ominously.
Crossbow readied,she scanned the crowd for bobble-headed figures she recognized all too well. She bellowed at the top of her voice as she stamped determinedly forwards
СБЕГИТЕ К БЕЗОПАСНОСТИ! ГОБЛИНЫ, ОСТЕРЕГАЙТЕСЬ! СКРОЙТЕ детей !!
Initiative1d20 + 1 ⇒ (15) + 1 = 16
Haley feels a rush of excitement as the Thunderstone's bark echoes off the pristine walls of the new Temple and she finds her feet to join the crowd.
Standing on her tip toes, she does her best to look over the broad shoulders of the fisherman in front of her and makes out the new priest as he prepares to address Sandpoint.
Suddenly, a scream. Panic worming through the crowd. The taste of unexplained fear like a copper piece under the tongue.
She hears the sing-song mantra of the Goblins before she sees them. The manic and twisted chorus heralding the mayhem and murder to come.
1d20 + 4 ⇒ (4) + 4 = 8
Her eyes widen and she looks at Dairkal. Goblins, In Sandpoint? How did they get in? We..we should run...right? We should find somewhere safe.
She has never been in a fight nor used spellcraft in combat of any kind.
Suddenly, the tattoos that crisscross her body flare hot and then fade to reveal unmarked skin. It HURTS! Haley grits her teeth at the sudden pain and her fingernails heat up like mature embers. A spark hisses from them and blossoms on the ground in a small rose of red and orange flame.
Something in side of her, something deep within her blood, is hungry for conflict. Haley lifts her eyes towards the goblins with an unknown resolve and loathing. Her skin cools, the tattoos reform their lattice like pattern across her tan skin.
On second thought, lets at least see how many there are. She says to the halfling with a grin.
1d20 + 2 ⇒ (3) + 2 = 5
As the evening winds to a close Dair relaxes some. He had eaten well, told a few grand stories, entertained some children and seemingly made an interesting new friend. All told it was good day. He didn't even care when he was slightly startled by the krakoom of the thunderstone.
Then, suddenly there was cries of pain and chanting in a strange tongue along with shouts of goblins. He had fought off a few before on the road with Othm, but he always thought they were too cowardly to attack a town. He peers about trying to find the little troublemakers 1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 Perception
Unable to spot them, he draws his rapier and a dagger, holding both low and at the ready. He's gotten into enough fights that he knows what he's doing.
Looking to Haley he says "I hope those tattoos are good for something other than a pretty show". All traces of his goodnaturedness is gone.
Perception Check: 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (10) + 8 = 18Alaren looks for the Goblins as well as a good advantage point from where to start killing them.
Alaren, your keen elf eyes with superior peripheral vision track the low moving humanoid heading north from the Temple square into a former merchant area.
E’Terah, whose farming instincts come as easy as breathing, tracks the shape moving north as well as easily as spotting a vermin in her families crops.
Haley, Dairkel and Masao did not see the tiny beast direction as it disappeared into the crowd. You do however, notice the Half-Elf and fuchsia haired Dwarf draw their weapons and head north. You follow, certain the adventures are on the trail of the deadly vermin known as goblins.
Dodging through the panicked crowd, you reach an open market area.
Roughly 18-20 cubits (5 feet=1 cubit), away stand three rancid goblins giggling at the edge of a vegetable cart. One is licking the blood from its dogslicer as it looks excitedly about, seeking out a new target.
A goblin song echoes through the air from all directions, seeming to infuse them in a bloodlust of animal fury.
<Goblins race and Goblins jump.
Goblins slash and Goblins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!>
Alaren 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (5) + 4 = 9
Haley 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (15) + 2 = 17
Dairkal 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (19) + 3 = 22
Masao 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (4) + 3 = 7
71/5 = 14
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (8) + 6 = 14
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (19) + 6 = 25
ARG! The Goblins are scanning the area and get the drop on you before you can act!
West Goblin (One licking dog blood off his dogslicer) sees you all and puffs up his chest. He takes a few steps forward and swings his weapon, chopping the barrel before him to show his superior abilities.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (17) + 3 = 20
He splits the barrel in two, drenching the street with sweet apple juice.
He flexes at you and snarls. Errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
The center goblin leaps over the cart and dives head first into the sweet sticky (and muddy) apple juice flowing in the dirt. He laps it up like a rabid dog, coughing and choking in his excitement to get it all before anyone else can. <Mine! Mine! All *khhh* Mine *kehhh*!>*
The western most Goblin begins throwing the fruit franticly all around the courtyard.
<Blah! Frutsises. Where’a da meatz. My teefs need meatz! Meatz! Meatz! Meatz! Nasty frutzseses Blek!>
Alaren looks around to make sure any civilian types are out of the way. Then using as much cover runs up beside the green tent behind the creates and barrels to use as cover as necessary. Move to G20
She takes aim with the arrow already notched in her bow and releases it at the West Goblin licking the dog slicer.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (9) + 3 = 12
Damage 1d8 ⇒ 7
She looks back at the Dwarf that had seen the Goblins as well and ran towards then and then notices the others. She waits to see if they advance or if they are going to run.
She also looks for any other Goblins - The song seems to come from everywhere.
Perception Check - 1d20 + 8 ⇒ (9) + 8 = 17
Looking for other Goblins or any source of magic they might use to determine if there is a Goblin leader.
Alaren repeates to herself - I hate Goblins.
FYI, to adapt to PbP combat, in most cases, initiative is simply an average of each party. Post in any order when it’s the PC’s turn. If your action is dependent on another, such as flanking etc, just state that in your post, and the other PC can choose to work with you or not, even if the posting order is reversed.
Alaren; you move to your new vantage point with skill and grace, knocking your arrow in a natural manor that few non-elves can ever achieve.
Your arrow flies true, catching the goblin in the side. It looks down in horror, then spins in circles looking at the arrow as a dog does when chasing it’s tail. It pauses and now the truth becomes clear.
The arrow penetrated his horse leather tunic and now protrudes out both sides. No blood, no damage.
The Gob’s grin spreads farther than one might think possible. He howls to the air then yells to you all the while dancing on two legs in a way that reminds you of a civilized toddler with a full diaper.
Glop is un not hurt’zed! Glop is baddestz azz’etzed Gob everz! Glop is un-hurtz’a’b’lee’er!!!!!
HaaHaaa poo poo stinky longshankz’esesses!
E-Terah steadily tramped her way north,moving sideways behind a tent before making her way behind a scattering of crates and debris heaped next to a pale-green checked tent. She hurried as fast as her squat body allowed to get into range,crossbow aiming for the most likely menace.
She could certainly smell them before she saw them--the distinct odor of goblinoid,unwashed flesh,and funk not unlike the smell of mange and rodents. She sneered at the taste it left on the back of her tongue.
They bounced about maniacally like demented children drunk on honey Mead,and she noted an half-elf female wielding a bow fire an arrow into one gob. Out of improbable luck,the arrow struck true but only penetrated the badly tanned leather garb it wore and stuck out like a misplaced needle. It danced in triumph,although she couldn't hear it,she knew it taunted them.
Double move action. Move 40 ft. To G21. Also,awesome mapping.
Chaos, yes. Adrenaline, surely. However, something else seems to be forming between the rush of goblin carnage and random panic. Individuals, as diverse as they are bold, are moving against the flow of fleeing forms. Without truly understanding her own motivations she follows Dairkal into the press.
Move to G23
She watches the slender elf smoothly send a shaft down towards the first goblin to set it spinning like a top in its madness, but the little monster is still standing.
Leaning against the nearby kiosk for support, Haley feels the heat gathering at the tips of her fingers and the cool burn of her tattoos. She lifts her eyes just as the proud dwarf goes bounding past.
Then light, color, FIRE- bursting forth from her outstretched hand in a dizzying display of brightness! It takes the form of a twisting dragon made of sparks and pyrotechnics that hiss their way towards the lead goblin and deftly weave through the defenders of Sandpoint on the way. Crackles, fizzles, booming! A lightshow of unexpected splendor and aggression!
Haley casts Snapdragon Fireworks at the Goblin Leader.
Will Save DC 15 for half Damage. Dazzled for 1 round if not saved.
1d4 ⇒ 2 Fire Damage
(Also, how do I change my text color to fit the rest of the groups for actions?)
As the chaos and panic spread throughout the once serene gathering, five brave adventurers thrown together by random chance or perhaps divine intervention, advance forward on three fetid goblins.
From the tattooed female human shoots forth a dazzling display of pyrotechnics. Such a bright and festive spectacle would not be out of place illuminating the night sky on this day of spiritual celebration, only this effect is directed towards the dancing goblin facing the adventurers.
Goblin will save 1d20 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1
Amazed by the sparking fire light the goblin stands in place allowing the full effect to smack him directly in the face!
Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Fire’e stuff’z!
He takes two points of damage and is dazzled
He then staggers forward in what appears to be a comical drunken zig-zag squinting his dazzled eyes and waving franticly his dogslicer through the air.
Longshank’z leg’z’ess b’a on’a da menuz tonit’ gob’oz.
The eastern Goblin stops stuffing its pockets with berries and grabs up an armful of apples. Moving forward, he begins pelting the group with fruit grenades! Duck and cover!!!!!
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (12) + 3 = 15
The apple flies true and strikes the unsuspecting Dairkil on his left eye! That might leave a mark.
1d2 ⇒ 1
Non lethal damage to Dairkil
The final Goblin gits up from the apple juice mud, face covered with yellow sticky filth. Wipes its eyes clear and sad say. I’m’a coldz. Needz ta’a warmz’es up’a.
It steps over the the umbrella canopy and begins the light it on fire with it’s fire ember pouch.
1d20 + 5 ⇒ (2) + 5 = 7 DC 15
The mud in his hands transfers to his ember pouch and puts it out. No fire started.
Alaren watches the Goblins with disgust. Looking at the Goblins advancing and then the one that tries to start a fire. Seeing that the Tattooed Sorcerer has dazed one of the Goblins, Alaren takes another arrow from her quiver her notches it into her Long Bow and takes aim for the Goblin throwing the apples.
1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Damage: 1d8 ⇒ 8
Alaren frowns with as the flight of the arrow misses the Goblin she aimed at.
She silently prays to Desna hoping for a little luck to defeat the Goblins before the try to enter to new Temple. She smiles as a few butterflies still dance in the air around the chaos.
She looks around again to see if there is any additional Goblins in hiding. She does not want to get ambushed by a hoard of Goblins. It seems out of place for Goblins to be so brazen to attack a town especially before night has fully fallen.
Local knowledge check - Knowledge of Goblin habits and if they would be brazen enough to attack a town full of people out and about.
1d20 + 6 ⇒ (6) + 6 = 12
E-Terah scanned her surroundings as she waddled furiously into position behind the green checkered tent,planting her feet as she raised her crossbow to her shoulder as she started to pick a target as the trio of goblins came forward in an inrushes haphazard fashion.
She flinched at the streamer of flame that weaved its way past her,looking like a tiny serpentine dragon that streaked at the dancing goblin,bursting into a dazzling shower of sparks right in its face. It careened about blindly,flailing with its dogslicer.
A glance back over her shoulder revealed a wisp of a human girl on the cusp of womanhood,tanned skin bearing intricate tattoos of dragons in flight,her fingernails smoking like dying coals. She then locked eyes with the half-elf wielding the long-bow,giving her a curt nod and flashing a thumbs up of approval.
The goblin that had been tossing about fruit in a frustrated search for something suddenly had an armful of ripe apples and lobbed one straight at them! She watched it arc over the market area and smack the halfling she remembered entertaining children square in the eye.
Annoyed at the trios antics,she leveled her crossbow at dazed goblin and squeezed the trigger with a practiced,deliberate ease. It snapped off a bolt. That seemed to slice by the wobbling goblin's ragged ear.
Sighing with frustration through her nose,the she-dwarf pulled the reloading lever and another bolt sprang into place.
Ranged Attk at gob at L16.[/ooc ]1d20 + 1 + 1 ⇒ (9) + 1 + 1 = 11
[Ooc]Damage 1d8 + 1 ⇒ (7) + 1 = 8