Dot here. Will post more sometime tomorrow.
Dot.
Waiting on a last minute submission.
Solanriel reporting in.
As the sky begins to light up over Sandpoint, people begin to arrive at the fairgrounds. By the time the sun is above the horizon, a large crowd has appeared. Before things can get too dangerous (you know how bored crowds can be...), the mayor of Sandpoint - Kendra Deverin - steps up to give a speech. Her friendly attitude and excitment catch in the crowd as she jokes, even going so far as to point out Larz Rovanky - tanner-er - is in attendance despite his reputation as a workaholic.
Then the sherrif Belor Hemlock takes the stand with a darker view. He admonishes people to be safe around the fire, and asks for a moment of silence to honor those who died in the fire that claimed the old cathedral.
The next speaker is supposed to be Mr. Lonjiku Kaijitsu, but he has contracted a "sudden illness" preventing him from coming. The crowd chuckles at that announcement.
Cydrak Drokkus, however, fixes it up by taking the spotlight with his wits and a good repetoire of jokes, eventually ending with some advertisements for his local theater and their play "The Harpy's Curse" - and reveals that the leading role of harpy queen will be played by Allishanda. The crowd rolls their eyes at this point, as if to say "not again!"
Finally, Father Zantus gives a breif statement that goes along the lines of "Thank you for comming. Let the festival begin!"
The first event of the day is weight lifting. Deverin calls for all interested in competing to step forward.
Upon hearing about weight lifting Bufalgar steps forward, "Aye I be ready to so all ye about lifting."
Bufalgar takes a large hammer off of his back, setting it down against a post with care. Doing a bit of a stretch and butting out his stogie on the ground. Bufalgar steps up to wait his turn, his blonde hair blowing in the breeze.
Orlog has been walking for a long while now. Happy to finally see his destination. Walking through the small village, he wasn't too impress. Too much wood and not enough stone for his taste. But then again, this was mostly a human town. He finally makes it to the fair's ground. He missed some of the speech, but he didn't mind. Looking around he hears the man calling for contestant for a weight lifting competition. He shrugs, but then decided why not. He walks to the line of people waiting for a turn. In front of him is another dwarf.
Orlog looks at the blonde hair and the details of the other dwarf's armor. He's nae from any clan I know. Nae even from Janderhoff. From Glimmerhol? Nah, these guys dinna travel much. Brunderton be way too far, and I dinna see tha usual patterns from Kraggodan. Tha only thin' left be tha Five Kin's Mountains. So many clans thar, hard ta pinpoint which city exactly. He looks at the rest of the line. This nae be movin' fast, maybe I shou''ve picked myself somethin' ta drink before gettin' in line.
Solanriel steps out of the inn and into the bright light of day with a heavy groan. His shoulders are slumped and his head is pounding like someone is pounding it with a hammer. He is well and truly hung over.
His long silver hair is in its usual braid and flopping against his back as he walks, while his silver-plated breastplate is is shining brightly as light bounces of its well polished steel. His dark red eyes seem much darker then usual and his bright copper skin gleams with light perspiration. His attire marks him as an adventurer and it is all black, most of it being made of leather.Around his shoulder he wears a curious weapon, a large metal ball connected to a long chain which loops around his shoulder. The chain has multiple handles and a clan standard, a foaming mug, on the ball.
He groans as the bright light makes his eyes sore.
Well I'd say this was a 7 out of 10? Better then yesterday's hangover in any case.
He follows the crowds as they head towards the fair grounds. He stops near a food vendor, intending to get something to eat when he hears the sounds of the mayor and company's speeches starting. He moves closer to the platform to listen to them speak. He laughs at some of the jokes and his hangover seems less severe as his mood improves.
he hears the mayor announce the beginning of the weight lifting competition and decides to line up and compete. He finds himself standing behind a couple of dwarves.
Wonder if either of them come from the same clan, mom got her dorn dergar from?
He thinks it unlikely but the image of an angry clan descendant chasing him down for ''stealing their clan's weapon'' amusing.
After the morning speeches are concluded, Ilysaria moves along to witness the weightlifting event. Though she stands somewhere near the middle of the throng of people, the fine citizens of Sandpoint give her a wide enough berth that she feels she is standing alone—at once a part of the crowd and apart from them. But if it bothered the woman any, she doesn't show it. A half-elf, born and raised in high human society, Ilysaria had long become used to others keeping her at a distance, whether because of envy or shame or pity. It wasn't until the young woman found Calistria that she had finally, blessedly, found acceptance.
But here in Sandpoint, she has the feeling that her outfit has more to do with the crowd's standoffishness than her status as a half-elf. A light, gauzy lavender dress clings to Lys' slender form, the fabric just heavy enough to keep from being sheer. The garment is cut low at the neckline and slit high up one side so that every other step reveals one long, shapely leg. The long chain around her slender neck draws the eye down to the silver, three dagger pendant that marks her an adherent to the Savored Sting—if her dress and the braided leather whip coiled neatly at her hip had not already done so.
With the other acolytes she traveled from Korvosa with nowhere in sight, and not wishing to request an audience with Father Zantus just yet, Ilysaria amuses herself by sizing up the competitors as she waits for the event to begin. If I were the gambling sort, I'd put my gold on one of the dwarves. Though she had little experience with or knowledge of their kind, they seemed to the delicate half-elf a stout, hardy race. What they lack in height, they seem to more than make up for in strength. Although I shouldn't count that one with the scarred face out either. He looks like he could give these fisherman a good challenge.
Bufalgar looks at the other dwarf who stepped in line behind him, looking to see if he recognizes him from any of the places he visited in the Mountains.
"Ye not be form The Five Kings are ye? Don't recognize yer heraldry on yer chest. I be from Kykar."
Bufalgar thrust his mailed hand out to take The other Dwarves arm.
"Ye here to show these scrawny humans how ta lift?"
Seeing the new comer standing behind him, Orlog study the man for a second. That's a tall one. Oh, a dorn dergar! Haven't one of those in a long while. Wonder where he got it. With that symbol of Pharasma on his chest, I ken assume that he dinna go grave robbin' for it. Probably from a victory in battle. Tha thin' looks old, though. We dinna really make them that way now. Looking back at the front of the line, and seeing that it still isn't moving. Ah, come on! Git this thin' movin' so I ken git a drink. I'm gettin' thirsty. He is pulled from his though when the other dwarf introduce himself.
"Nae, yes... I'm sorry. Nae, I dinna come from tha Five Kin's region. Me clan be from Janderhoff. Ye be from Kykar? I had figured ye weren't from around here, but kinna pinpoint from where exactly. Tha name be Orlog Brightshield, Son of Rhyfel. And yes, if this competition ken finally start, I will be testin' me strength."
Those in the weight lifting challenge will need to do a strength challenge. A tall, well dressed man steps up behind the rest of you guys. He nods to aasimar and the dwarves and wishes them good luck.
Bufalgar puts out his cigar on the ground, cracking his knuckles and doing a big extravagant stretch. Smiling around at those gathered.
Stepping up to where he needs to lift the heavy items Bufalgar bends at the knees and lifts grunting loudly.
"Torag and I'll show ye's how ta lift!"
Well that was just sad.
Despite his best efforts Solanriel can't help but making fun of the dwarf. Cupping his hand behind his ear as though he is trying to listen to something he calls out.
"Dwarf, can you hear that? That's the sound of Pharasma laughing at Torag!"
He smirks a little as he says this, trying to convey some friendliness.
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"That there be a warm up, I was showin' ye all how ta not lift this ere heavy what ere it is. I be showin' ye all how ta in a minute, I will let ye have yer turn."
Bufalgar backs up to let the other move up.
Orlog walks over to the weight. Trying to get the best grip possible, he places his hand in different spots to see how comfortable he the grip feel. Then, with a groan, he tries to lift the thing. It doesn't move much be at least it moved more than what the other dwarf did.
"Well, it seems it's nae our day today. If we be allowed a second try, I sure wou' like ta try again."
Solanriel walks over to the weight feeling confident after seeing both dwarves give a poor showing.
Bending at the knees he grasps the weight with an overhang grip with one hand and an underhand with the other. The bar barely rises off the ground, only slightly better then the first dwarf but not even as good as the second one.
Feeling his face redden even further with embarrassment, he smiles awkwardly at the crowd of onlookers.
"Well, guess that's my best effort for now."
Guess that's what I get for being hungover and confident at the same time.
Solanriel I presume you rolled off screen?
A man in a blue robe approaches last. He nods to the two dwarves and the angel-blooded before grabbing the weights.
Ouch! Well, he wins. Barely.
Walking over to the winner, Orlog present his hand. "Well done, sir, well done. got to love a close competition. Hopefully, I'll get a chance to test myself later on. But for now, I need a drink. Anyone knows where I can get the best brew around here?" Turning to the other competitors. "You guys want to share one with me? My treat!"
Perking up at the sound of free booze, Solanriel smiles widely.
Walking up to stand beside the dwarf he smiles at him.
''It's like my mother always used to say 'Never look a gift horse in the mouth, it might kick in your teeth!' I'll be pleased to share a drink and together we can all bemoan our weak physiques.''
He starts walking towards a stand that serves good ale and turns his head back to regard the rest.
''I should warn you however, it is tradition among my clan to never share a single drink with strangers. Rounds two and three are on me!''
A sack race is being put together.
Walking over to the stand of refreshment, Orlog orders drink for those that followed him. Looking around while the vendor prepares the drink he notices that the next event is being set up. He then turns to the tall man with the Dorn Dergar. "Well, it seems that we might time for one drink only, since tha next event be about ta start. But dinna worry, ye ken buy tha next round after that one." Grabbing his drinks he looks at the rest of the competitors. "Let's drink ta tha winner, that was a good competition. And in tha same breath, me name be Orlog BrightShield, honor ta meet ye all."
Solanriel smiles slightly as he accepts the drink from the dwarf. Raising it to his lips he takes a long sip. Smiling at the taste of good alcohol, he holds his hand out to shake the dwarf's hand.
''Pleased to meet you, I am Solanriel Arak'Gluk, new to Sandpoint and one of its gravetenders.''
He smiles at all of those who have followed for a drink and not just at Orlog. Not wishing to say much more, Solanriel waves his hand towards the sack race.
''Shall we race then? May the best man win.''
He starts walking towards where the sack race is starting, noticing a beautiful half-elf who seemed to have been watching the strength competition earlier. He waves good-naturedly as he passes.
Bufalgar follows the others sitting down and ordering a drink.
"Bufalgar Ironspire, I be needin' a drink after that embarrasment o' a contest. Let me be gettin' a big drunk than 'll be ready ta do te sack race."
Bufalgar lights another cigar and orders a drink.
With two people down, it is just the three of you. If it doesn't work, then I will allow someone to make alterations to their character.
Those of you who want to race will need a dexterity check.
Finishing his drink, Orlog follows Solanriel to the sack race. "Let's hope for a better result than earlier." He grabs a sack and looks at it. "So, one has ta git both legs in this and jumps all tha way ta tha end? Weird idea, but I guess it be all in due fun." He gets at the starting position and looks at the other competitor. At the signal, he starts jumping the best he can, but has expected, it doesn't go too well. After only three hops, he falls face first in the dirt. Then, later on, his legs get somehow tangled in the sack. With a bruised ego, he finally, but very slowly, crosses the finish line. "Well, this cou' have gone way better!" The crowd cheer and laugh and the dwarf determination to finish the race.
Bufalgar does no better than his Dwarven friend, falling flat on his face only moments after the whistle to go.
"Is there a drinkin' game? I be sure we could be winnin' that one!"
Bufalgar gets himself up slowly, returning to get a drink.
Shaking his head to try and clear the last remnants of his hang over Solanriel slips his legs into the sack. He nods at Bufalgar and Orlog and leaps forward when the signal is given.
He manages a good pace and does considering better then his shorter compatriots.
Kyral rushes up and joins in.
She does quite well, managing to pass Solanriel.
Kyral sweeps the competition.
Lunchtime rolls around. A swarm of thousands of butterflies are released. Then Amieko Kaijitsu (owner of a local tavern), provides a lunch of curry-spiced salmon, easily beating out Hagfish's lobster chowder and White Deer's peppercorn venison.
Kyral grabs some food, and tries it as she walks over to Amieko. "Hey Amieko! This stuff is amazing!"She smiles. "Its been a while. Its good to see you! I just got back from helping with the construction of a temple to Desna in magnimar, and got back just in time to prepare for the Swallowtail festival."
Bufalgar heads for the food as well, walking up to Kyral.
"Ye be quick lass, how did ye do that with the sack?"
Not liking Spicy food, Solanriel chooses to grab some peppercorn venison.
well I lost but at least the food is good. He ponders to himself as he searches for a server. Spotting one he waves her over and orders four ales, one for himself and each of his new Dwarven acquaintances and one for the winner.
Carrying the ale towards the rest pf the group, he offers them to each person.
Bufalgar, Orlog, I promised to buy rounds two and three did I not? where I come from a half-orc always pays his debts, cheers.
Holding the last ale towards the winner of the race, he nods at the pretty red-head.
Well, you won fair and square, let us drink to your superior sack-racing skills!
He smiles slightly and takes a long swig of his own drink.
Oh Damn! My manners must have been lost in my last drunken scene, Im Solanriel, new grave-digger of Sandpoint. And you are?
"I am Kyral, one of the pepole who helped organize this festival. As for the sack racing, I practiced quite a bit for a few of these before the festival."
Bufalgar drinks his ale that was given to him, loving the cool drink on this warm day.
"So ye helped ta Organize this festival? Me Kin wanted me to ta come ere ta help with protectin' the new Cathedral, said it was me duty ta. I be thinkin' they be thinkin' that o' Bufalgar here be a bit unhinged." The dwarf raises his bushy blonde eye brows smiling large at all around.
Orlog Tries all the food that is offered, not wanting to miss anything. "These be good!" With a drink in one hand and a plate in the other, Orlog looks at the winner of the sack race. "So ye helped in all this. I'm impresses by what I've seen so far, ye did a great job." Stacking his plate on top of his mug, Orlog present his hand to the human. "Me name be Orlog BrigthShield, pleasure ta me ye." With a sturdy handshake and a friendly smile, Orlog nod at the woman and then start eating again.
Pleasure to meet you too. It is going rather well so far, even better than I anticipated. I dont remember which event is next, but I think it is soon.
As the four stand around eating and drinking, Solanriel finds himself wondering what the next event is going to be.
I wonder what they have in store for the next event? Perhaps a test of accuracy? Maybe a drinking contest? I'd kick ass at that.
Looking over at the two dwarves he has met, he reconsiders.
Hmm, then again with competition like these two, especially Orlog, maybe not.
Clearing his throat to get the others' attention he reagards Bufalgar and Orlog each in turn.
''So master dwarves, the lady is here as she organized the event and I am a recent resident of the town, but what brings you both to the festival? You didn't arrive together did you?''
"We didn' travel together here, ne'er seen him" Bufalgar thumbs towards Orlog "Efore, I be from the Five Kin' mountains. I was"Tasked" ta come ere and offer me protection fro the new Cathedral."
Bufalgar takes another drink.
Solanriel's eyebrows shoot upwards at this news.
''You were ''tasked'' to protect the Cathedral eh? From what? What exactly is so special about this cathedral that you would be sent here miles and miles away, through frontier land just to protect this cathedral?''
Solanriel's expression is initially shocked when he hears this, gradually giving way to irritation and slight disgust.
''Damn typical religious orders, they send a single dwarf to defend a church hundreds or thousands of miles away. So damn inefficient.
This last bit is muttered under his breath but, is still said loud enough that those standing next to him can hear him.
Sorry folks, Paizo was giving me trouble and I was not able to warn you that I would be out of town all this week.
Don't have much to say but keep roleplaying.
Guess we can move on?
Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon into the festivites, and begin their story. The story talks about how Desna fell to the earth, and was nursed back to health by a blind child who she turned into an immortal butterfly, they release thousands of butterflies into the air.
Bufalgar listens to the story and smiles at the butterflies are released.
"Nothin' like being underground and the forge but they be purdy anyway."
Bufalgar looks at Kyral, "What else be goin' on ere today?"
Orlog listen to the story and look at the butterflies being released into the air. Then, when he hears Bufalgar comment, he can help but laugh a bit. "Ya get that right my friend." Interested in learning what is next on the schedule, he turns to Kyral, waiting for her answer.
Bufalgar will head over to the drinking contest once he hears about it, not wanting to miss out on free booze.
Solanriel, similarly will follow Bufalgar, eager to participate in something he should be good at.
Unofficial Rules (but good, nontheless) for drinking can be found here
Use them, but do not let them influence your drinking strategy. Drinks are provided free. Do not get ahead of everyone else. Everyone drinks at the same speed.