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22 Rova 4707
Even before daybreak the people of Sandpoint are up and about, making their last minute preparations for the festival. By the time the sun is out and the sky is bright, the streets are absolutely bustling with activity. A colorful array of tents and booths and stalls can be found all throughout town, ready to meet locals and visitors alike with offerings of food, clothing, and various other knickknacks. And of course, there is a wide variety of games and contests, for children and adults of all ages.
The most crowded place of all is the church square, where a large wooden stage has been constructed for the occasion. As the festivities kick off, the event’s keynote speakers move onto the stage to deliver the welcoming speeches. A rather sizable crowd stands in the square, giving their undivided attention. A woman with short-cropped, reddish-brown hair is the first to step forward, a broad smile covering her face. Her appearance is met with cheers and applause.
”Welcome, friends and newcomers, to the annual Swallowtail Festival! Thank you all for joining us on this auspicious day! For those of you that do not know me, I am Kendra Deverin, mayor of this wonderful town. It’s good to see such a lovely turnout this year. Why, even our very own Larz Rovanky has managed to tear himself away from his work at the tannery!”
The locals in the crowd roar with laughter, proving infectious even to those not in on the joke. Only a surly-looking bald man - ostensibly the workaholic himself - does not seem at all amused. When the laughter dies down some, Mayor Deverin goes on.
”As you all know, today marks an extra special occasion. After years of planning and construction, our new cathedral is finally complete, and ready to receive the gods’ blessings!” She gestures at the immense stone cathedral standing behind her. ”Five years ago, our chapel and beloved priest were stolen away from us by a great blaze. Some of our homes and businesses still bear the scars of that terrible tragedy. But today is a day for new beginnings! It is time for us move on and embrace our future!”
Once again the crowd cheers enthusiastically, perhaps even desperately.
”Now, I don’t want to hold you all from the festivities for too much longer, so I am going to hand things off to our town sheriff. Now, let’s have another round of applause for Belor Hemlock!”
There is more applause when an imposing Shoanti man steps forward, but when he starts to speak, it ceases right away.
”I would like to remind all of you to stay safe during this evening’s bonfire. We do not need any children - or adults, for that matter - hurting themselves. Do not stay out too late or drink too much either, if you can help it.”
Thinking that they are perhaps witnessing a rare, jocose side of the sheriff’s personality, a few people in the crowd chuckle. However, the choice glances he gives certain individuals tell a different story.
”I would also like for us to have a moment of silence, in honor of all the lives we lost five years ago.”
Everyone bows their heads. Silence permeates the square for several seconds before being broken by the sheriff.
“Thank you.”
Without another word he steps off to the side, giving the stage back to Mayor Deverin.
”Our next speaker is a special guest! Without his funding, I daresay that the construction of the cathedral would not have been possible! Now, may I present to you the head of one of our town’s founding families, Lonjiku Kaijitsu…!”
Several moments pass, and nobody steps forward. The crowd, still subdued by sheriff’s short speech, remains silent. After coughing into their hand pointedly, one of the town officials reaches out to tap the mayor’s shoulder. She turns around to exchange whispers with the small group. A minute later, she turns back around to address the crowd, her smile slightly less broad than before.
”Unfortunately, I have just learned that Lonjiku will not be joining us after all, as he has come down with a sudden illness. Let’s all wish him a speedy recovery! Instead, our resident entertainer and owner of the Sandpoint Theater, Cyrdak Drokkus, has a few words to share with you!”
The crowd grows lively once more as the handsome, flamboyantly dressed man takes the stage - something that he is all too used to. Cyrdak bows to the crowd graciously, his mouth a half-moon smile.
”Thank you, thank you Mayor Deverin! It is a joy to be here on this very special day! Our dear mayor made a good point about Lonjiku, but let’s not forget all the others that were involved in turning her vision into a reality! Our other two founding families, the Scarnettis and the Valdemars! All of those Sandpoint businesses that so generously donated gold to the project! Why, even I donated! I mean, who wouldn’t want to curry favor with the gods? And of course, the churches themselves, that all recognized the need for a place of worship - even if they have to share it. All in all, the cathedral was damned expensive, but stone doesn’t exactly burn, so we won’t be needing another new one any time soon!”
The crowd laughs in spite of the joke being in bad taste, though the town officials on the stage look a little less than pleased. Paying them no heed, Cyrdak goes on.
”Ah, but that reminds me! This is just the occasion to share a very special announcement with you! Coming soon to a theater near you - that is, my theater - is our production of The Harpy’s Curse! Oh, but that’s not all! The part of Avisera the Harpy Queen will be played by none other than Magnimar’s most famous diva, Allishandra!”
The theater aficionados in the crowd go wild as Cyrdak once again bows to everyone repeatedly, before being practically dragged off the stage by the sheriff. Everything seems to be in good fun as the local priest steps forward with a hearty chuckle. Despite approaching his middle years, Father Zantus doesn’t have a gray hair on his head. When everything calms down, he delivers the last short speech of the morning.
”Please join us here at noon for the Swallowtail Release, though I daresay you will not miss it no matter where you are in town!” the bearded man says cheerfully, ”And of course, when dusk approaches, join us once more for the consecration of our new cathedral! Now, contrary to what our dear mayor said before, it seems that we have kept you here for a little longer than intended. So go now, and have fun!”
Perhaps you took Shalelu’s suggestion to heart, or perhaps you just didn’t have anything better to do - for one reason or the other, you eventually traveled to Sandpoint. For as small of a town as it was, it was awfully busy. It seemed that everyone was preparing for the upcoming festival somehow. Whispers about your dear friend Ivy quickly circulate, suspicions as to her true nature aroused. Nothing comes of these rumors, however. There are only two inns in town the Rusty Dragon and the White Deer. Shalelu had suggested the former before the two of you parted - a good friend of hers named Ameiko Kaijitsu ran the place, and always opened its doors to adventurers and travelers alike.
”Welcome to Sandpoint. Stay out of trouble.”
It was not much more than he said to any other visitor. He went so far as to point you in the direction of the town’s two inns, the White Deer and Rusty Dragon; he would let you be the judge of which suited you better.
”I am afraid my father passed away around seven years ago,” she had explained, with the peacefulness of one that had long finished mourning. ”But you too venerate the Master of Masters, yes? If so, then both the meditation floor and my library are open to you, for as long as you are here.” She added with a wry smile, ”And if it pleases you, during your stay you may treat this place as your own home. Provided you help keep it clean, of course.”
Since then Sabyl has been a considerate host. True to her own invitation, she spends the majority of her time either meditating or reading in her library.
Some things however, have thankfully remained the same. There is business as usual at the Hagfish. Norah floats in her filthy tank, almost certainly not the same “Norah” you last saw. Much to your disgust, it appears that a few more individuals have managed to complete the eponymous Hagfish Challenge; a total of 28 names are now carved onto the ceiling beam above the bar, and the leather pouch beside Norah’s tank is already bulging with silver again. And of course, Jargie Quinn has at least a hundred new variations of the tale of how he lost his leg.
Brodert Quink is as surly as ever, though he appears genuinely happy to see you again. Perhaps eager to see how much your mind has expanded, he falls right back into his old pattern of sharing his theories with you, theories that you can perhaps better appreciate now. More recently, he has been working more on the most controversial (and perhaps dubious) of his theories - that the Old Light was not a lighthouse, but a weapon of mass destruction.
All in all, the people do not seem to have changed much… though there is an undeniably morose atmosphere that they are eager to shake off. Perhaps the Swallowtail Festival is just what they needed. In the days leading up to the festival, the Hagfish is in a frenzy as Jargie works on a dish that can compete with the offerings of the Rusty Dragon and White Deer.
Shara lingers near the back of the crowd through the speeches, having arrived a bit last minute. She had left Sandpoint feeling like it was time to expand to bigger and better things, but finding herself back in town has awoken a longing that she hadn't expected and the familiar comfort, and equally familiar rowdiness, of the Hagfish has her smiling as she joins the festival goers in the square before the cathedral. She almost missed the opening just so she could stick around the tavern and hear the end of Quinn's latest yarn on how he lost his leg. She was fairly certain that he hadn't met a Bandersnatch before, and wasn't entirely sure they actually existed, but she found herself laughing with the audience none the less.
Standing in the shadow of the new cathedral, she shivers slightly. It feels... wrong somehow. The damage and evidence of flames feels like Sandpoint has become something different, more dangerous perhaps. "Perhaps I should ask Master Quink if there's anything particularly strange in Sandpoint's lore that I haven't heard of before. Or perhaps I've simply been gone too long. People and places change all too easily."
She shakes herself as the speeches end and goes to look for someone who's preparing food. Watching Uncle Quinn cook all morning had her stomach rumbling and she wanted to see just what Ameiko and Viskalai had managed to cook up. And sample all three dishes of course.
Ivy and Ash had arrived via dock the night before, and thus had been subjected to the hustle and bustle of preparations... but rather than staying in town that night, they'd slipped quietly to the outskirts, Ivy working to set up Ash's tent and then them both calling it a night.
The next morning, Ash and Ivy returned to town refreshed. Despite the fact that the Swallowtail Festival had drawn people far and wide (not to mention the opening of their new church!), Ivy and Ash were amongst those that stood out the most. Both Ash and Ivy were tall; just above six feet, Ivy standing a hair taller. Or rather, she would if she weren't slightly hunched over. Ash, on the other hand, had great posture, using his longspear similarly to a walking stick. Despite the differences, the two had one thing in common, a tribalized tree-like symbol that rested in the center of their foreheads.
Ivy, as the one who drew most of the looks, looked mostly ordinary until you reached her shoulders. She had a large copse of blonde hair that swept down from the top of her head to mid-back, and bright, slightly-too-large blue eyes. Within those blue eyes were slit pupils, and just beneathe them were perhaps a dozen freckles. Likewise, she wore a huge smile on her face, complete with too-long canines, seemingly excited by everything that was going on around them. Then came her body. Ivy wasn't clothed. But neither was she naked, by the human sense of the word. Instead, foliage and pale flowers grew all across her body, starting at her feet and growing all the way up to her chest. Likewise, both of her hands were covered in viny green gloves.
On her back was a pack, and through a small snap-hoop was a twisted, slightly gnarled polearm. She didn't seem to be overly worried about any of her belongings, instead, moving swiftly (and with great interest) from place to place and person to person. She occassionally picked up a stick, or turned over a piece of detritus, and pointed in a direction. "Come ooooon Ash, it's this way~!" she called, her voice extremely reminiscent of a whiny teenager. Not to mention the fact that they were effectively just moving with the crowd.
Ash followed along behind her, quiet and thoughtful. It was clear that of the pair Ash had inherited all of the calm. His hair was dark, cropped and messy, his eyes a dark brown. his features were oddly angular, including his slightly-pointed ears. His longspear was smoothe and straight, his clothes terribly ordinary. It looked as though they had been pieced together by someone far below an adept, from the hides of several small animals, leaving a patchwork of muddy tones. He carried very little, a belt pouch and a waterskin at his side.
While Ivy's gate steadily bounded the pair towards the stage, and the start of the festivity's, Ash's was made in long, drawn out steps, his mouth placid, but his eyes betraying his interest in all of the things that they were passing... and even his mouth couldn't quite hide his internal pleasure; a corner would turn up on occassion, when Ivy found something really exciting, but he'd chide her like a parent, just the same.
Finally, they arrived, and listened to the plans for the day unfold. Ash hadn't planned to get drunk, though Ivy groaned. Ash was somewhat interested in plays, and Ivy commented on how much she'd like to see all the different clothes they had for the theater... once she found out what it was for. And finally, the pair resolved themselves to return at noon. For now, Ivy needed to have a treat of some kind.
"Want something sweet." she said as the crowd started to disperse.
"What about the berries you found this morning for us?" Ash asked, in a calm voice.
To which, Ivy responded "Too bitter~. I want pie~." Which earned her a small sigh, and nod from Ash... which earned Ash a huge smile and a happy Ivy, as the two went off in search of food.
Baalrak had not been pleased by his mother's funeral. That there were only five attendees was very disappointing to him - and that she had chosen such a small, quaint place to live was similarly disappointing.
He had expected power and glory. His father had been a big, strong orc and he had expected that a human woman, of all types of people, who had been able to captivate his attention and then escape unscathed would have been more impressive. This... small, frontier town with its small pink-skinned people did not impress him. That his mother had been respected enough by Hemlock, seemingly the only man in the village who might earn an orc's respect, did impress him, but little else that he learned about her did. She had worshiped the goddess Desna - a nighttime goddess of dancing. Bah.
And then this festival! Where were the monitor lizard pits, where a man could enter and test his might against large, scaled creatures? Where were the blazing effigies?
Why were all of the children laughing so much?
Speaking of dissatisfaction, there was his...brother. By all accounts of elven blood, he was confused about his mother's motivations in birthing such a creature. Where had her standards gone? How can one woman have such a range between a worthy mate (his father, a powerful and proud warrior) and one of the flighty, wimpy elves?
Of course, it was certainly possible that his brother was older than him. Perhaps his mother had learned the value of a good partner.
Whatever way it went, though, he was stuck in Sandpoint for a little while, and perhaps this man Wyrd could share something that Baalrak did not know.
Baalrak's voice is booming, and he calls out to Wyrd as they walk amongst the festival-goers. "You must tell me - are you a resident of this small town?"
Baalrak himself is huge - a couple inches above six feet fall and he is heavy and muscular. He wears hide armor with a simple and rough shirt underneath - the sleeves have been ripped off of both garments to reveal his thick arms and the armor-patterned tattoos that cover them. He has a tattoo of a sword thrust into a mountainside on the left side of his neck.
His tusks don't really poke out of his mouth, but when he opens it it's clear that he has them - overlarge lower canines. He has long, thick brown hair that's twisted into a dozen and a half dreadlocks. He walks with large, heavy steps and lets his arms splay out wide, taking up a wide section of any avenue that he's on. He never steps aside for anyone and, in fact, pretty much ignores the presence of anyone smaller than he is. And that's most people.
Wyrd was a tall half-elf with a lithe, wiry build. He wears simple white monk's robes adorned with the symbol of the Master of Masters upon the right breast, and carries nothing else with him except for his ornate elven spear. He might have been attractive if life had treated him better, but unfortunately he was scarred terribly as a child. As such he keeps the majority of his neck and face up to his nose wrapped with a scarf at all times. Above the scarf a deep gash, long since healed, traces up his left cheek, through his eye and disappears into his hair line. His right eye is a clear blue, but the left was nothing but a cloudy white orb at this point.
Wyrd had been called many things in his life. "Son" by his foster parents, "dirt" by the bandits that had killed them and left him for dead, "monsterous", "ugly", "disgusting" by all manner of women, "Grim" and "One-Eye" by his companions during his brief stint in a mercenary company, and of course his name "Wyrd" by his father and the monks in the temple he'd been trained at. But the word that came out of this half-orc's mouth was one he'd never been prepared for: "Brother".
He had thought it a joke at first when he arrived at the funeral, a half-orc and a half-elf born to the same mother. He wondered if that's why his father never spoke of her. He still wasn't entirely certain why he'd come, but his father had insisted, and he had never been one to go against his father's wishes.
He considered just returning to the temple, but his father had also insisted that he show proper respect and hospitality to any family he might encounter here. "I've only been here for a short while, I've been staying at the House of Blue Stones and haven't left except for the funeral and this festival." he says in a monotone, raspy voice. At the very least, he enjoyed seeing the festival under way, even if he felt little desire to participate. He had always enjoyed the festivals in the village as a child, and it brought back the few truly happy memories he had.
Thinking for a moment, he asks, "Did you travel far to reach here..." he pauses for a moment, then adds "Brother?" in an cordial tone.
Baalrak's smile grows wider as he draws level with Wyrd along the avenue. He claps Wyrd on the back with a large, calloused hand. "Far? My travels took weeks! I had expected someplace more exotic than here at the end of my journey."
"It's.... quaint. And soft. Not a place worthy of my mother's residence, or so I had thought."
"Perhaps she was not so impressive. An elven lover certainly seems to suggest that." This last comment is accompanied by a good-natured grin and an elbow jab into Wyrd's rib.
Wyrd begins to retort, but catches his tongue, though he does glare briefly at Baalrak. "It is a village like any other, although I am used to the mountains. To be on the coast is strange. You should show some respect to our mother. Whatever her reasons or... tastes... were, she is family and deserves that," he says with certainty.
Boastfully, he proclaims "I have sought to master mind and body as my Father has, and do so walking in the footsteps of the Master of Masters. I have fought as a mercenary as well, earning my pay in battle. What is it you seek in life?"
Baalrak catches Wyrd's subtle jibe at his race and laughs loudly, slapping his belly with his hands. "Tastes? You disapprove. You must live a sad life, without the knowledge that orcs are the strongest and best lovers, and the most powerful and impressive mates."
"As for our mother, respect is earned. And until she earns it, even through memory, I will speak how I want to about her." He looks curiously at Wyrd, though. "Speaking of learning about her... what do you know about our mother?"
When he mentions mastering his body and fighting as a mercenary, Baalrak's face explodes with surprised pleasure. "Ah, so you are a warrior? I am as well, though I must admit to being surprised - you do not leave that kind of impression on me."
"Me? What do I seek? I seek a worthy opponent, a hearty mate and a large hearth with many slaves to stoke it for me."
Perhaps Baalrak should not be speaking so loud whilst walking in the town square - he never really learned to speak with an inside voice.
"You should come visit our temple sometime, they would be happy to help you learn to recognize warriors on sight. Being unable to do so can be quite dangerous," says flatly. "Boastful, boorish, stereotypically orcish. I wonder if we inherited *anything* in common from our mother, he thinks to himself as they walk along.
Eventually he comes to a halt, staring off into the distance over the crowd. "Is that... a woman clothed in plants? he says, nodding towards the mass of green and yellow poking up from the crowd ahead.
Baalrak practically yells his next response, "I thought all they taught at temples was how to sit still and let the world pass you by!" He laughs again as Wyrd jabs at him, but turns his attention to Ivy when Wyrd brings it up.
"It is, it appears, a woman clothed in plants." Baalrak smiles. "I am surprised and displeased that she's managed to find a way to keep those on so well."
Ivy sniff-sniffs the air, and looks around for a few moments... then takes off into the crowds, weaving through them, and ultimately wasting as much time as she gained. Ash follows calmly after, simply slipping past the crowd in her wake, people unconsciously moving to the side to look back at the strange creature, leaving a simple path for Ash.
She bounds forward through the crowd, with a joie de vivre unseen in most, but somehow, most assuredly natural. Somewhere along the road, though, Ivy grows distracted by a flash of red. She'd never seen hair that color before. And never quite so much!
She falls into stride behind Shara, who, unbeknownst to Ivy is also looking for food. Or... not also, anymore. Given that Ivy has no use for food, she's a creature purely of impulse when it comes to food. Likewise, she was a creature of impulse when it comes to people. Moving quickly enough to force Ash to rush to keep up, she intercepts the woman, and looks at her with huge blue eyes, head tilted, unabashedly staring.
"There may yet be hope that we agree on something, Brother," he says with a short and raspy laugh. He turns in the direction the blonde head had darted off, wandering that way. "In any case, that seems like good diversion," he says to Baalrak.
'Ah, so he does have a sex drive!' The thought reassures Baalrak, somehow, that perhaps his brother Wyrd was more normal than he had thought. More... expected. "It isn't even midday yet, brother! Don't such diversions usually wait until nightfall?" Baalrak grins and takes off towards the newly-formed group of three - the two beautiful ladies and the quiet man who followed the leafy one. "I suppose all rules were made to be broken. Come! I'll wager a gold piece on bedding one of them!"
Baalrak is surprisingly fast for a man of his girth and encumberance, though it isn't quite difficult for Wyrd to keep up. Baalrak shoulders his way through any crowd, beelining his way for the leaf-laden woman.
Shara wanders through the crowd a bit, trying to pick her way through the mass. "At least the town looks a good bit brighter today," she murmurs to herself. "It's been so grim recently." She lets her forest green cloak open a bit and pushes a strand of hair from her eyes as she stops and looks around. She had picked something special to wear today, the latest in Chellish fashion. Her dress was green to match her cloak, though a lighter shade and trimmed in just a hint of gold. The neck was a bit low cut, revealing just enough pale skin to be attractive without being considered scandalous. The skirt is split from the hem almost to the waist to allow free moment and when she moves, soft brown pants with a hint of golden embroidery are visible. She had however forsaken heeled shoes for comfortable leather boots.
Shara gave an extremely undignified yelp as a woman popped out of the crowd directly in front of her. "Watch where you're going," she snaps. "And who exactly do you think you are anyway? And what are you wearing? Are those vines?"
"I was watching where I was going!" Ivy extols, obliviously. "I'm Ivy! Nothing... and yes!" she says with a huge smile that reveals her canines. "Who do you think you are?" she asks, causing a voice in the crowd to groan. Baalrak and Wyrd are able to see the half-elf that seems to have followed in Ivy's wake touch his forehead with three fingers, shaking his head as he lowers it.
"You have really pretty hair." Ivy adds, not awaiting an answer to her question.
"Clearly you weren't otherwise I wouldn't have almost run into you," Shara replies dryly. "Shara Alazna. I'm a mage and clearly more sane that you are. Why are you wearing nothing but vines? Are you a dryad or something?" She simply raises an eyebrow at the hair comment. While she quite likes her hair, the woman's train of thought makes no sense to her. "Thank you. I think."
Wyrd, glances curiously at the half-elf touching his forehead, wondering if he was related to the plant-woman in some way. More importantly, sensing an opening, he walks up to the two women arguing. He glances over the two of them briefly before interjecting, "Is there a problem here?"
"Yes!" Ivy nods, enthusiastically. "Clearly I was, because I was trying to catch up to you! And now I have! You're welcome" She adds. before she looks over to Wyrd. "I don't think so."
Ash meanwhile, minds his own business, and moves out of the crowd to lean against the wall, watching the exchange. This is why they couldn't go to nice places.
Sadly, the search for delicious food is largely in vain, as lunch won't be for another hour or so. Three large stalls in the church square have been reserved for the town's best eateries - the Hagfish, Rusty Dragon, and White Deer. Their owners however, are nowhere to be seen. Shara knows that at least in the case of her Uncle Quinn, the lobster chowder would take more time. The same could be assumed of whatever the other two restaurants had to offer. At least a hundred hungry mouths hang around church square, speaking for both their eagerness and the vast quantity of food that must be prepared. That is, the vast quantity of free food.
Baalrak, Grim, and Ivy all attract attention from passersby, though for very different reasons. It should be expected then as the three of them gradually converge, a small crowd of onlookers subtly forms. Not as subtly as they might have wanted to, anyway.
Shara takes a moment to follow the woman's line of thought again. "This is why I don't talk to crazy people. I get a headache trying to keep track of what they're saying." She sighs. "I see. Was that all then?" Maybe if she's lucky, she can just get away from the crazy, possibly fey, woman.
She turns to Wyrd. "We're fine, thank you," she replies curtly, not really interested in getting someone else involved in... whatever exactly is going on.
"Nope! A lot of things are pretty. I've got a box full of pretty things if you'd like to see. But you have to be really careful, because if I lose them, they're gone forever." she explains, quickly. "Also, your eyes. Your eyes are pretty." she announces, then looks around. "See. Everyone else thinks so, too!" she says, pointing out the crowd as if they weren't obvious.
"Pretty things? What in the world does she mean by that? Shara sighs, clearly seeing that attempting to extract herself from the conversation isn't going to work. "I see. And what kind of pretty things are these exactly?" She looks around at the compliment and sees the gathering crowd. Lovely. "Somehow, I doubt it's me that they're looking at."
"Maybe... we seem to be attracting a bit of attention though," he says. "Are you bo..." he starts speaking addressing both of them, but takes a look at Ivy again and switches to addressing Shara. "Are you native to this town? My brother and I only recently arrived," he says, pointing a thumb back at the half-orc with him.
Shara decides that perhaps trying to talk things out with the nymph is a bad idea. She's clearly in her own little world. "Finally, someone with sense. Yes, I'm a native. Shara." She offered a hand to the masked man. She can't help wondering why exactly he feels the need to wear a mask though.
"I've got..." Ivy says, and starts to take off her pack. Ash from off to the side says slowly but sternly, "Ivy.." She looks back to him, and then turns back to Shara. "Ummm..." she looks up towards the sky as if that will help her remember. "I've got a huge shiny bead. And two locks of hair... and a stick." she suddenly turns back to Ash. "We didn't water the stick today!"
Ash shakes his head, "It can go a week without water."
"But what if we forgeeeet~?"
Ash shakes his head slowly, "Fine, we'll go get you some water to put it in. And then we'll find some fertile soil, too."
"Ooh! And I have cents, too. Eight of them!" Ivy adds just as enthusiastically. The half-elf just mutters something under his breath, it sounds like a curse.
Shara raises an eyebrow at the list of items. Perhaps they had sentimental value or something. It would make sense for someone as... odd as this, Ivy was it, to consider sentimental items treasures. "Okay then..." She rubs her head, trying to stave off the beginnings of a headache.
Wyrd actually looks slightly surprised when Shara reacts in a somewhat friendly fashion. He pauses for a moment, trying to judge if she's sincere, but can't seem to notice anything off, leaving him kind of at a loss. Finally he takes her hand and shakes it, not really sure what else to do, "Wyrd," he says, "but most call me Grim. We should go someplace quieter. Food or Drink perhaps? I'll buy if you'll share what you know of the town."
Looking over his shoulder at the half-elf who was addressing the dryad, he asks "Ivy your friend? You should come with us."
When Wyrd looks Ashward, Ash nods, "Ivy is-" but Ivy cuts across, leaving Ash to just exhale the wasted breath. "That's my brother, Ash! He's really great, you'll like him a lot. What's weird?"
"I vote we find someplace quiet." Ash says, after a moment, echoing Wyrd and Shara's apparent opinions.
Shara actually smiles. "I think that I can tell a few stories. But quiet might be a hard thing to find today, with the festival and all. All of the taverns will be packed I'd wager, but we can go to my Uncle's place at the Hagfish if you'd like. I guarantee a good price for decent food, especially when you're with me. I think lunch is free if you're willing to wait a bit."
Ash shrugs. "Quiet-er" he says with an emphasis on the latter. He seemed to be enjoying the crowds much less than Shara, even though he would at first glance appear calm, there was obvious anxiety. Ivy was at home being the center of attention, or at least didn't seem to notice it. Ash clearly would rather fade into the background; his body language was obvious in that regard.
"That sounds great!" Ivy says, giddily. "What's a Hagfish?"
Baalrak raises an eyebrow. "Free lunch?", he booms, walking right into the center of the group. "What kind of plenty allows for free lunch?" He scoffs a bit but grins widely. "Not that I'm complaining, or refusing a meal with all of you absolutely gorgeous women. Come! Where is this "Hagfish"? Is it a tavern inside of the corpse of an immense fish?"
Baalrak spreads his arms wide, encompassing all of the group and begins to walk, pulling them along as he talks. He's probably going the wrong direction, though. "Ivy, Ash, and Shara. Well met, each of you! I am Baalrak. My brother and I are visiting town for a short while, and any rumours or stories you can share would be wonderful."
Shara chuckles. "Well, a hagfish is a kind of eel that lives in the water around here. The Hagfish is a tavern in town where the owner keeps one as a pet. I'm afraid they don't grow big enough to build a tavern inside of one. At least, not without magic help."
The loud half-orc is... something else. And his rather blunt flirting is almost painfully obvious. "The Hagfish is the other direction," she deadpans as she pulls herself free from his arms. "Also, don't push me." She levels a glare at Baalrak and her voice gets lower as she stares him in the eye. "Period. Now, follow me and I'll take you there." She turns on her heel and leads them in the proper direction to head to the Hagfish.
"See! Wyrd's brother agrees, too! Ooh Ooh! I've never been inside of a fish before!" she said, clearly quite pleased with the prospect, against all odds. "Well. I know that the Rusty Dragon has the best rooms in town. Miss Shalelu said so! So if you need a place to stay, you should totally stay there!" Ivy said, head bobbing.
She didn't seem to mind being led at all... though she was also considerably more likely to bolt off in a random direction when something shiny caught her fancy. Ash, meanwhile, slipped in behind, having never been actually part of the group per se.
"Ah, the woman doesn't like to be pushed!" Baalrak takes a step back, feigning hurt feelings before he grins and follows after Shara. "I couldn't ask for a better trait!"
"Too bad about the fish though - I might have thought something about this town was actually impressive."
"Sandpoint's best trait has never been being exciting. Well, it didn't used to be. Times have been strange recently from my understanding."
"Everything is impressive, though!" Ivy announces. "Have you seen the ocean!? It goes on forever! And it's -right there-! I bet if you swam and swam, you'd eventually be able to touch the sky! And all those people worked together to build the church! For everyone! That's really great, too! And all of these people, and all of this food! If it weren't impressive, why would so many people have come here?"
Shara takes the lead, leaving the bustling church square through Tower Street before turning onto Main Street. Dozens of small tents line either side of the street, all set up by local businesses, craftsmen, and tinkers. Hundreds of people fill the streets, standing between you and the Hagfish. Unfortunately, this was the most direct route.
Traversing the street does not prove to be terribly difficult. As you pass by, one of the Avertin daughters waves to Shara from their stall, which hosts an assortment of breads. Her identical twin sister seems less than enthused with her job, clearly bored out of her mind.
Toward the end of the street, where the crowd is much thinner, Baalrak spots one of his numerous admirers. The shapely redhead tends to the stall with her mother, selling various homemade pies. While her mother is preoccupied with a customer, she takes the time to look the half-orc dead in the eye and wink. When another customer approaches however, she instantly becomes the dutiful daughter once more.
Minutes later you finally reach the Hagfish which, just as Shara had anticipated, is packed. Though Jargie himself is busy preparing lunch, other cooks ensure that the menagerie of sailors and gamblers are well fed. The air in the tavern smells of saltwater and seafood, and is filled with the din of boisterous conversation. A few of the regulars politely greet Shara when she enters, with manners one might not expect from a sailor.
Impossible to miss is a large glass aquarium that sits behind the bar, which from the looks of it, is filled with foggy green water. The serpentine shape within slowly swims about its enclosure, the very namesake of the tavern.
Wyrd's face softens a bit at Shara's smile, though it's impossible to tell if he's smiling as well. "Sounds good, lead the way," he says as he turns to walk alongside her. "It's my name," he responds to Ivy's question, "Grim if you prefer." He nods in agreement at Ash.
Whatever improvement in mood he might have had though is wiped away when Baalrak bursts into the center of the group and takes over. His one good eye rolls briefly at the scene, but he doesn't otherwise comment on his brother hitting on Ivy and Shara. He did, however, take a small bit of pleasure from Shara's irritated response.
"Lived for a while in a small town as a child. It wasn't exciting either until it was raided one day. Hopefully things stay quiet," he says, his voice quieter and darker in tone.
"The ocean is impressive, isn't it?" he responds to Ivy.
He looks about the Hagfish as they stride through, occasionally sneaking glances at his companions, though notably less so at his brother and Ash.
As they enter the tavern, to say Ivy's eyes lot up would be a lie. The truth was, her eyes had stayed lot, perhaps since as long as she could remember.
Upon seeing the aquarium, she shoots straight for it, too-large eyes wide with wonder. "Oh, wow! An above ground pond! How do you keep the-"Tink Tink! "Oh, wow! Glass! This must be worth a fortune!" She spins around to look at the others, "Can I pet it? Please, please, please!?" She says as she looks to each of the non-Ash companions. Ash would totally say no. So she was banking on Shara, their hostess... sort of... overruling him.
"Yes, Ivy. That is probably very expensive... don't touch it." Ash said from the back of the group, causing Ivy to shift back fully three inches, while still admiring the giant eel.
Wyrd watches as Ivy sprints for the Aquarium and starts poking at it excitedly. When she looks at him for permission he just shrugs and shakes his head, definitely not wanting to be the one responsible for a floor full of water and writhing hagfish. She was rather attractive to be sure, but she seemed less like a woman than an overgrown child, in more ways than one.
"She's rather energetic," he observes, turning to Ash. "You're her 'brother'? I find that less likely than Baalrak here being my own. What's your story?" he asks the half-elf.
Ash shot Wyrd a look out of the corner of his eye that could peel paint, but relented. "It's... probably a lot more complicated than a half-orc brother, that's for sure... but I'm not particularly interested in going into it. Let's just say, Ivy is a half-elf just like me, that we're related, and leave it at that." Ash replied, slightly irritated, but seemingly too drained to make a real fuss, Wyrd having touched a nerve. "We've come this way from Mierani. Ivy and I spend a lot of time in those woods. They're to the north, across all that uninhabited beach. I take it that you and your brother aren't as excited regarding the festival? Why come, if that's the case?"
Wyrd catches Ash's glare, but doesn't particularly feel a need to apologize for broaching the subject. "Came for the funeral of our mother. Didn't know I had a brother before a couple days ago. I'm from that region too, in the Calphiak mountains. There's a monastery of Iroran monks south and east of Mierani, near a small village named Moriah's Pass. My father was from Mierani as well, he talks about it as much as he speaks of my mother. Which is to say he doesn't."
He looks around the room again for a bit, looking at Baalrak and Shara before turning back to Ash. "I've been thinking about staying because I like the quiet though, and the House of Blue Stones provides me shelter and a place to meditate and hone my skills. I've had my fill of the mountains for now. Came for the festival then?" he asks after explaining his situation.
Shara nods to Wyrd in understanding on the walk to the tavern. "We have goblin problems around here every once in a while. Not big raids, but they cause all sorts of problems in the area around here."
She smiles and greets a few of the patrons as they enter the Hagfish, as well as the other servers that she recognizes. She tilts her head curiously at Ash's evasiveness, but doesn't say anything for the moment. She simply files the question away to ask later. "I imagine it's complicated, seeing as your sister seems to think she's a dryad."
She glances back at Wyrd and tries to give him a sympathetic look. "And I'm sorry about your mother. It's a shame to have the first happy days Sandpoint has seen in a while be marred by losing someone."
Wyrd meets Shara's look and shrugs. "Don't be. She left before I was even a year old, and the messenger informing my father of her passing was the first either of us had ever heard from her. I'm still not sure why she went to the trouble of making arrangements for us to be informed upon her death," he says flatly. "Not that I'm ungrateful for your sympathy." he adds uncomfortably after a moment, glancing off to the side.
Baalrak admires the Hagfish as well, asking of Shara, "Is it deadly?"
When the subject of his mother is brought up, he moves closer to his brother and squeezes the man's shoulder as he talks. "I too never knew my mother. She came to and escaped from the Hold of Belzken like a thunder behemoth, conquering where she chose and allowing nobody to hold her down. though I'd wager a guess that she wanted her children to meet one another on her death."
Shara chuckles. "Your mother sounds like quite the adventurer. From elven communes to orcish holds and back alive. And with children left wherever she passed. Sounds like she had an interesting life."
"Back already, Shara? I was sure you'd be out all day," a woman's voice says from nearby. One of the servers approaches your group with a friendly smile that the sorceress is all too familiar with. She has her long hair pulled back into a bun, with a few idle strands rebelliously hanging over the sides of her face. Its color is a familiar fiery red, though it is not nearly as intense as her daughter's. "And you I see you brought some new friends with you!"
She appraises the tavern's newest guests, stopping only to raise a brow at Ash and Ivy, who stand out from the usual crowd. Baalrak and Grim looked just rough enough to fit in... for the most part. Ultimately, Sandra does not seem at all concerned about Shara's strange company - she could take care of herself, she was sure.
"Here, let me grab you all a table," she finally says, beckoning you all to follow. She leads you over to a table by the side of the bar that she had been scrubbing down. "Just a reminder that only the festival lunch is free. I've had to explain that to more than one customer already."
Baalrak appraises Shara's apparent mother. "I can see where you inherited your looks, Shara!" he laughs, pointing at his own chest. "My father was never particularly handsome so I must assume my looks came from my mother as well."
Baalrak has a sudden realization, turning to Shara and her mother. He squints in concentration, his eyebrows furrowed. "Did either of you know my mother?"