Our beginning, in the town of Sandpoint...
Dotting
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Whether you’ve come to make the proud town of Sandpoint your home or are just passing through on your own business, you can’t help but hear about the much anticipated Swallowtail Festival – a time to celebrate the rebuilding of the town’s church and, thus, the symbol of their unwavering devotion to whatever god they choose.
The Swallowtail Festival begins promptly, as scheduled, on the first day of autumn. The square before the church quickly becomes crowded as locals and travelers arrive, and several merchant tents featuring food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs are there to meet them. From what you've heard, this is a celebration that couldn't come soon enough for the faithful of Sandpoint. For five years, its citizens have attended church in smaller wooden structures rebuilt after fire destroyed the previous temple. And, while their new pastor Abstalar was helpful, kind, and wise, church wasn't the same.
Now, the cathedral is finally done, and the devoted citizens of Sandpoint gather to renew the site's blessings from the gods. After that, it will be as if the Sandpoint Fire had never occurred. The air about the Festival is charged with emotion - from faith and joy to pride and determination. The people see this day as a victory - their deity rebuilding after dark days, or perhaps their city's resilience in the face of atrocity. Either way, smiles abound for local and stranger alike, and the festivities are in full swing by mid-morning.
The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers each deliver short but well-received welcomes to the festival. Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to the town and jokes about how even Larz Rovanky, the local tanner (and apparently notorious workaholic) managed to tear himself away from the tannery to attend.
Sheriff Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, 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 five years ago.
Fortunately, Cyrdak Drokkus is more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes as 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 and gives a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
Ethan wanders about the town, so many people!, impressed at how such a huge number of people have exhibited the simple, purposeful values of Erastil.
"It seems I have made assumptions about these townfolk. Perhaps that was Erastil's purpose for sending me here," he says to no one in particular.
He wanders about the town square, taking in the sights and smells of the Swallowtail Festival.
Dorin approaches Father Zantus after his speech.
Good Father, I be Dorin Stonehammer, Stone Lord of Torag, and I would like t'see that new Cathedral, if'n ya would'na mind a tour?
You find a break in the throng that seems busy offering the Father their thanks and congratulations, and he smiles warmly at you. Why, of course, Master Stonehammer, one of the Father of the Forge's chosen is always a very welcome guest here in our humble town. I'd be happy to give you a tour, though perhaps a bit later this evening would be more appropriate. We have the Swallowtail Release to prepare, then lunch, and the Consecration at Dusk. After that, we'll be opening the doors and showing any interested persons about. Would that be alright? The Father has a pleasant nature, and seems quite worried that you may not find the plan acceptable.
He, and the throng around him, are gathered in the wide square before the new cathedral, which is indeed impressive. It's the newest and largest building in Sandpoint, and is rumored to have a splendid open-air courtyard inside with a circular stone altar.
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Duru stared at the mirrored sign on the Lost Coast road outside of Sandpoint, his reflection staring back at him. Held in place by a dirty strand of twine, a sprig of mistletoe adorns his forehead, it's green vibrance offsetting his grayish skin and brown beard.
Must remember to stay calm, keep my rage in check, Mug believed I would find good souls here in Sandpoint.
Squinting at the reflected image, it's hard to imagine that the road ahead will be anything but difficult. Duru adjusts his pack, smooths down his hair, squelches the knot of fear in his belly, and strides down the road and across the wooden bridge leading into town. At the other end he greets the first man he sees with a friendly smile and courteous pleasantry.
"Good day, kind sir, I hope you are well!"
The man snarls back, setting the tone for the days ahead. "F*ck you gobbo, get outta our town!"
Duru's jaw clenches, the rage rising, but he takes a deep breath and keeps striding toward the town center. Mug said it would be difficult, he asked me tolerate their mean nature, I must do so, if only to honor his memory.
Dorin stratches his beard in thought, then nods to the Father.
Aye, that'll work fine...see ya then.
He turns his back and begins to examine the outside of the cathedral's architecture with a stonecutter's eye.
Perception:
Ethan turns at the sound of an angry shout from behind him, near the gate.
"What was that? An argument or fight of some sort?"
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It was not Aleister's intent to visit Sandpoint during the festival...yet here he is. There was a time in his life when a member of his family might be a benefactor in rebuilding a cathedral such as this...but no longer. Perhaps the shame of the Landberg name hasn't reached Sandpoint. Aleister thinks to himself while stepping in line for a tour of the cathedral.
Ethan's keen eyes catch the argument - a large figure stands, having just been berated, on the near end of the wooden bridge leading into town. The figure seems road-weary and looks like a half-orc...or something else? From this distance, it's hard to tell, but for his part, the figure doesn't pursue the man who had shouted at him.
Dorin's keen eye for stone shows him that the cathedral was built with particular care at the facade, and that the builder was skilled. However, there could be problems with the foundation over time; a massive conflagration happened here so some damage to the grounds is easy to spot for someone so practiced with stone.
Aleister soon finds that the line is merely to offer congratulations to Father Zantus. He smiles warmly and inclines his head. Hello, my friend; I trust you're enjoying the Festival?
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Ethan approaches the fellow, impressed at his self-control.
"An inauspicious welcome he gave you, and just when I thought there was no work for me in this town," he says to the stranger. "Allow me to welcome you. My name is Ethan Sower. I have recently arrived here to mission for the faithful of Erastil, and to celebrate the spirit of community here in Sandpoint. It is unfortunate that the first person you spoke to chose to tarnish the image of the entire town."
Ethan extends a hand in greeting.
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"Yes...yes. Enjoying the festival. And congratulations to you Father." Luckily Aleister didn't have far to fall when his family fell from its social graces. He always became nervous and tongue tied when speaking with people....particularly strangers. Still his parents would parade him around in front of this dignitary and that one. No sense dwelling on that now...those days are over.
Excuse me father...I'm going to have a walk. About town. Perhaps I'll see you again....soon?
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With trepidation, Duru watches as the man approaches him. Expecting the same treatment as a moment ago, he steels his nerves and takes a deep breath, preparing to endure another insult. But the man greets him with kindness, introduces himself, and extends a handshake, Duru stares blankly for a silent moment, completely shocked.
By the gods, Mug, you were right! There are good folks here, there is a future for me among such as these!
Gathering himself, Duru eagerly shakes the man's hand, gripping it in both of his and continuing for well past the normal greeting of men. "So pleased to meet you, Ethan, your kindness is appreciated more than you know! I am Duru, reformed hobgoblin and former student of Mugellun the Wise. It is the very spirit of community that has brought me to Sandpoint, Mug believed I would find people such as yourself." Duru keeps shaking the man's hand, smiling widely at his new friend, until he realizes that the action is attracting strange looks. Dropping Ethan's hand, Duru seeks to solidify the friendship with a cultural gesture common between man and hobgoblin.
"Let me buy you a beer, my friend, as thanks for your kindness, surely the brewers have some special casks they've saved just for this festival."
Ionacu rolls his eyes at the throng of ... yokels ... gathered round, waiting for some birds to be released. This is what my parents wanted me to learn from, he thinks incredulously. There's NOTHING to do.
Looking around, he pulls out his harrow deck, wondering if he might be able to at least have a little fun. Fortunately, he'd tied a number of scarves -- red to represent lust, orange for happiness and resourcefulness, and blue for health, youth and beauty -- to his sleeves, so hopefully he'll be able to pass as one of the Varisian wanderers who were so much more fun than his own oh-so-dull merchant family.
"Yes, let us share a drink, friend Duru!" Ethan says clapping the hobgoblin on the shoulder. "Your wise mentor, no doubt, was divinely inspired to direct you here. The road you have chosen is a difficult one, and perhaps, Old Dead-Eye has seen fit to teach me through your example of perseverence."
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Friend, the word echoes in Duru's mind, reminding him of his first meeting with Mug on that fateful day, bringing tears to the eyes of the bugbear.
"Yes, teaching is good, while Old Dead Eye teaches you, I too will be taught. I am proud already to call you Friend Ethan Sower. Now let us get those beers and investigate this fascinating festival!"
Dorin, seeking the slack his thirst after his thorough investigation of the Cathedral, walks away from the crowd. He cannot help but notice the human in a heartfelt handshake and deep conversation with the goblinkind.
Interesting...could that be? YES...it be a Hobgoblin, right in our midsts.
Dorin approaches as the two begin to walk away speaking of a drink.
Ho there, Dorin Stonhammer be my name. Did I hear ya two are headin' fer a drink? I be new to town, and i thought i might be taggin' along?
He smiles at the human, but does not make eye contact with the hobgoblin.
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While walking through town Aleister is startled to see a Hobgoblin mingling among the crowd. Fascinating! He had studied the anatomy of many a humanoid at university...hobgoblins among them. However it's very different seeing one in the flesh as opposed to on the pages of some text.
He approaches cautiously, pulls out a small parchment and begins scribbling some notes.
"Well met, Master Stonehammer! My name is Ethan Sower. I serve Erastil, as I see you serve noble Torag. This is my newly made friend, Duru. Please, join us!"
Ethan extends a hand in friendship to the dwarf.
Duru tries to greet the dwarf as well, extending a hand in greeting.
"Pleased to meet you, Master Stonehammer, join us for a beer!"
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Dorin takes the profferred hand of Ethan and grips it strongly.
Aye, I wil join ya!
He unclasps his hand and reaches tentatively towards the outstretched hand of the goblinoid, and with a quizzical look, says,
You'll be excusin' my gruffness. I have been killin' yer kind for years on end, and I never met one worth sharin' a beer o'er. What makes ya think you'd be any different then the rest o' yer kind?
Ionacu, looking around, spots the man apparently writing notes as he stares at another man, a dwarf and ... well, some sort of monster. Ionacu shrugs -- it's not causing trouble and isn't any of his business.
The man with the pen, though... Oh, yes, that'll be perfect, he thinks. I'm not even going to have to TRY!
He sets to following the bumpkin, waiting for the perfect moment to convince the man to hand over his coins. Perhaps the old bag trick. Someone likes that'll be sure to believe he's cursed. Just need to wait to prime the pump.
Father Zantus nods to Aleister and smiles again. Of course; please enjoy our town, and make sure you stay for the Swallowtail release, which will be coming in an hour or two.
There are quite a few vendors set up with light fare and beverages that they're offering for free as promotions for their establishments - most notable are the Hagfish, White Deer, and Rusty Dragon - all respectable inns in the town.
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A dwarf, shaking my hand, Mug was right about this place!
"Master dwarf, you'll find I'm nothing like my kind and that very reason is why I'm here in Sandpoint. As to the killing, truth be told I've killed a few of my own kind as well, and they deserved it, so no hard feelings there. And a reason for sharing a beer for me, well that's the easiest of all, I'm buying!" The hobgoblin grins and slaps the dwarf and man on their shoulders, "Now let's get some beers my friends!"
Dorin looks askance up at the hobgoblin, and simply shakes his head.
Torag be knowin' that I never thought t'see the day. Let's have at it then. Drinks on ya, big fella.
Vlad sits leaning against the wall of the tavern. On leg propped up serving both as an elbow rest and a place to lean with sword. He lazily eats an apple while watching the crowds of people. This certainly is a quaint little town... he thinks to himself with a audible sigh.
He raises an eyebrow at the approach of two men a dwarf and what appears to be some kind of goblin. Hmm, This may prove interesting after all.
"So, where is the nearest tavern? There is a foaming pint somewhere waiting for each of us!"
Brothel? Alcohol? Maybe this little rinky-dink town won't be so bad after all, Ionacu thinks.
And since there's free food and drink, I suppose I can wait a little before making some extra coin.
He abandons his plan to follow the note-taker and heads toward the various vendors, to check out the fare.
The makeshift "tents" set up by the local taverns prove quite ample to meet the needs of the group, as they are equipped with full, long wooden bars with stool and bench seating, a small fire though the weather is pleasant enough to suggest that it is for effect only, and rows of kegs marked with the tavern's name and the name of its prized brew. The first you come upon - the Rusty Dragon, seems to be run by an exotically beautiful woman of some Tian descent named Ameiko Kaijitsu. Her tent seems to be much more frequented than the others, as her curry-spiced salmon and Early Winterdrop Mead easily overshadow the other offerings. Lunch and drinks are, of course, free, being that they are essentially large-scale advertising.
As lunch begins, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon in to 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 who she transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid, they pull aside the wagon's cover to release the thousand children of Desna - a furious storm of a thousand swallowtail butterflies that swarm into the air in a spiraling riot of color to a great cheer from the crowd. Hooting children futilely chase them, never quite quick enough to catch one as the day goes on.
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As counter intuitive as it may seem, Duru is slightly dismayed that the drinks are free, he had hoped to show his new friends his sincerity and good nature by buying them drinks. Moving quickly, he procures mugs of the Early Winterdrop Mead for his new drinking companions, serving each of them and promising to make good on his offer for a beer at some point when coin is necessary.
"Alas, my friends, I had not expected the drinks to be free, such a thing is unheard of in hobgoblin society. i promise to make good on my offer the next time coin is required, and you can trust the words of Duru the Reformed, true to my words and my friends I will always be!"
The hobgoblin raises his mug in toast, almost giddy with the camaraderie of his new companions.
"An excellent sentiment. Here, here!"
Ethan raises his mug.
As the late morning turns to early afternoon, the festival continues to gather attendees of all sorts, and the Rusty Dragon tent is nearly filled to bursting before the evening comes about. It's easy to see that many of the merrymakers will be hard pressed to make it into the evening at the pace of their revelry.
Gliding gracefully among the gathered throng is the beautiful proprietor, Ameiko, making certain that those gathered are kept satisfied. She eventually makes her way to your table and her eyes glide over Duru without the slightest pause. She smiles warmly and leans down closer to the table to be heard over the din. I hope my girls have been treating you well, gentlemen; please let me know if there's anything else I can get for you. Here for the Festival?
"Yes, good lady. They have been very kind and hospitable. Your food and drink are excellent. May Erastil favor your endeavor with prosperity!"
Ethan, again, raises is mug as he returns the lady's smile.
Vlad gets up from where he is sitting, tossing the apple core aside as he does so. He follows the group inside and quickly searches for a place to sit and keep an eye on them.
Ameiko smiles widely and winks. As he no doubt favors you, my friend. Please, let me know if you need anything else this afternoon. Are you staying for the Consecration? Father Zantus is nearly leaping out of his skin to begin, I think...though he's supposed to wait for the sun to set.
She casts a mischevious smile towards the front of the Cathedral where the Father was no doubt still speaking with his acolytes and fellow worshippers. He's the picture of calm when helping one with their own problems, but he's a spark away from igniting when in service to Desna.
Ever the attentive waitstaff, the young ladies of the Rusty Dragon notice Aleister, Ionacu, and Vladislav where they stand or sit off by themselves, and offer the same fare that everyone within the tent found to be so delicious.
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"What, huh? Oh yeah...thanks." Aleister barely acknowledges the waitress and leaves his food and drink behind as he moves closer to the hobgoblin. He extends his hand a little too enthusiastically.
"Aleister Landeg...an absolute pleasure to see you." He quickly realizes he used his last name a bit too loudly and looks around to see if anyone took notice.
Ionacu gives a playful bow as one of the serving ladies brings a drink.
"Thank you, my dear, just what I was hoping for," he says as he straightens up with a broad smile and a wink. "This little town may be far better than I'd been expecting."
He lets his eyes roam over Ameiko. Quite the regal air she has, he thinks. Could almost be royalty. Or at least a Magnimar noble.
He manages to resist wincing as he sees his potential mark head up to the hobgoblin. Great, he's going to get trashed and lose all his money before he has a chance to give it to me.
Dorin raises his ale.
Here's to the consecration, then! I'll be holdin' ya to yer word, no worries there, Duru.
He cannot help being watched by the swordsman with the apple core.
Ya gonna gawk all day youngin', or would ya prefer t'join us? I be Dorin Stonehammer, Stonelord of Torag.
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Joy washes through Duru as yet another stranger approaches him in a friendly manner. I wish old Mug was here to see this happy day! The hobgoblin grips the man's hand and shakes it heartily.
"Pleased to meet you, Aleister, very pleased to meet you! I am Duru, reformed hobgoblin and former student of Mug the Wise. Please have a drink with us, my new companions are Ethan and Dorin, they're friendly folks just like yourself!"
The hobgoblin keep shaking the man's hand in a repeat of his introduction with Ethan, until it again becomes apparent that he's exceeded the social norm.
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"The best way to make a friend is to not rip his arm from his shoulder at first meeting." Ethan says, putting a gentle, but restraining grip on Duru's arm to stop the shaking.
"Welcome, friend Aleister. Please, bring your chair and sit with us! I am called Ethan, a servant of Erastil."
After looking askance at the human with the apple core, Dorin raises his mug to Aleister.
Aye, well met.
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Bloody hell, now he's making friends. That's going to make it harder to get his coin, though by the looks of that group, there's plenty of coin to be had. Of course, if they figure it out, it's harder to get away from a group ... but I doubt they'll have a clue their cure is a bunch of twigs.
The young Varisian pulls out his Harrow deck again and, picking a card, dances it nimbly along his fingers. Glancing at it, he frowns. The Fiend. Well, that doesn't bode all that well... Last thing I need is some disaster with lots of deaths.
As the afternoon moves more towards evening, the festival attendees seem to drift steadily towards the courtyard in front of the new cathedral, where the central podium rests, currently unattended. The waitstaff within the tent, ever attentive to the needs of their customers, point out the exodus amidst their work.
May want to get near to the podium if you want to see the consecration. Father Zantus'll be starting soon, and that crowd's getting thick fast!
"The dedication is about to begin. Shall we, friends?"
Excited at the prospect of a new cultural event, Duru enthusiastically agrees.
"Yes, Yes, friends, let us move near the podium to see the consecration!"
The hobgoblin finishes his mug of ale in a single long gulp and starts moving towards the podium with an expectant look to his companions.
Dorin also chugs the remainder of his ale, belches loudly, and heads out after the others to the podium.
Ionacu shrugs and slouches toward the cathedral, along with the rest of the crowd. I suppose I'd better go, or they'll assume I've run off again and I'll just end up getting yelled at.
He keeps his eyes peeled for any pickpockets, though he assumes his Varisian-style garb will likely keep him safe from any Sczarni in the area.