| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
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. Food for the festival is provided free of charge, courtesy of Sandpoint’s taverns. Each brings its best dishes. It soon becomes apparent that the darling of the lunch is Ameiko Kaijitsu of the Rusty Dragon, 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. Merchants from Magnimar, Riddleport, and further have arrived to try to profit from the crowds, hawking clothes, crafts, and souvenirs from all over.
The turnout for the morning's opening speeches is quite respectable. Mayor Kendra Deverin, a short woman with fiery hair and friendly disposition, steps up to the top step of the new cathedral and calls out, "Greetings everyone, and for those of you visiting, welcome to Sandpoint on this wonderful occasion! For the locals, I'm glad you could make the time to help make this festival a success in every measure. It's good to see everybody out and about enjoying themselves, especially you, Larz! I was worried you weren't getting enough daylight from all your working!"
The crowd chuckles, and from the gathered masses, a curt reply of "Blame tha missus, I told 'er I was too busy fer...!" is all that can be heard before he gets drowned out by a laugh from the assembled and the mayor.
She resumes, "At this time, I would like to ask Sheriff Hemlock to say a few words!" She begins a round of applause as a tall, dark skinned man with a shaved head takes the stage, he raises his right hand to silence the crowd, his left resting on the pommel of his sword at his hip.
He solemnly says, "I just want to remind everyone to take care throughout the festival, particularly at tonight's bonfire. Speaking of which, let us all take a moment of silence in memory of those who lost their lives five years ago."
After a brief moment of quiet, he simply nods and steps off the stair. Replacing him, obviously surprised and insulted by a lack of introduction, is a man wearing the garb of an entertainer. A practiced smile reveals itself within his well manicured goatee, and his golden hair has been prepared to perfection.
"Well met, one and all! I am Cyrdak Drokkus, as I'm sure many of you know. I would like to take a brief moment to thank the founding families, churches, and local businesses for their most generous donations to help make this wondrous building a possibility for our little corner of the world. I know my own establishment made a sizable donation, not to say the least. Anyway, in honor of this event, I wanted to make sure everyone was aware of the special feature being performed at the Theater tonight, 'The Harpy's Curse,' with the role of Avisera, the Harpy Queen, being performed by none other than my dear friend, Allishanda!" Several excited murmurs can be heard amongst those gathered, as well as a few groans from those not interested in theatrical enterprises. He then concludes, "Without further ado, may I present the true host of these festivities, Father Zantus!" Cyrdak extends his arm in a flourish of a bow, then makes his way out of the limelight.
A middle aged man in blue robes and hair the color of the night sky makes his way up the stairs. He turns and bows to those gathered, and calmly states, "Thank you all for attending this glorious day." A small group of acolytes push a covered wagon to the bottom of the stair as the man speaks, "When Desna first fell to Golarion, many of you know, she was nursed to health by a young, blind child. As a show of thanks, she granted him a new form, that of an immortal butterfly. Now, this community has gathered to rebuild this church when it was destroyed. In return, we have been granted with this wonder of engineering. To show our thanks to the Goddess of Stars and Travelers," he gestures to the large crowd containing many new faces to the area, then says excitedly, "Let the Swallowtail Festival begin!"
He raises his arms, and the acolytes pull the cover back from the wagon, releasing thousands of swallowtail butterflies into the sky, which the crowd applauds and cheers before the crowd disperses to shop, mingle, eat, or, in the case of children, chase butterflies through the streets.
__________
Ravboom trudges through the streets and festival, not looking very festive. The goblin is quite the unusual sight for a goblin. Unlike most, he wears a very well made leather lamellar suit of armor, has earrings hanging from his rather large ears, has a well maintained great sword on his back, a well maintained backpack along with it, and he's actually fairly clean. He's also not spitting and hissing at people who hurl insults at him.
Finally, Ravboom trudges into a small tavern, the Rusty Bucket, and climbs his way up onto an empty stool. Dropping a couple of coppers on the bar, the gobby balls up his fists and drops his chin on them. "Morgrin gone now, Mikatender." The goblin tells Mika, the bartender/tavern owner. "Ravboom wave bye till big boat no be seen anymore. Then come here. Ravboom not sure why, figure Mikatender not throw dishwater at Ravboom." The gobby gives a ghost of a smile, the first time Morgrin had brought him into the tavern Mika had done just that, coating both with dirty dishwater.
The bartender pushes the coppers back. "Not today Ravey, it's festival day. Keep the coppers. Here, help me with this." The bartender/owner tells him, dragging the depressed gobby out the back of the shop. In the back is a wagon with a large keg of ale on it the size of a horse. "Here, help me drag this out to the square by the Cathedral, I'm running late as it is." Mika tells him, pushing him toward the front of the wagon.
Ravboom grumbles in goblin about stabing the wagon and burning it, using 23 different words for fire, but he reaches the cart and grabs the two wooden handles. The wagon groans and begins moving as the overly strong goblin jerks it into motion with grunts of effort.
The wagon splits the crowd in front of it (although the growling goblin has some effect as well), and it is soon in the square by the cathedral, and Mika is handing out mugs of ale. One finds it's way to Ravboom as he leans against the wagon. He mostly ignores the crowd, who do the same mostly to him. Occasionally he'll give a shark-toothed smile and wave to someone he knows.
The morning grows chaotic with festival goers enjoying the experience around the Cathedral square. Os'dyn watches the crowds, his almost almond shaped eyes scanning the tumult for trouble.
Guard duty. On festival day. Necessary? Yeah. Worth the pay? No.
The chill, autumn air bites into the back of Os'dyn's throat with each breath. It is because of this that his mind wanders towards memories of the past and his mother. He remembers the cooler nights in the winter and his mother dancing around the campfire wearing the scarf he had made her as a child.
Unfortunately, with these fond memories always come the bad ones: the children mocking him, his mother's haunted eyes every time he asked about his father, and the night he came home to find her already dead from a fever and buried.
Os'dyn's fist slams back against the merchant stand painfully.
"Gods damn it, Os'dyn! I didn't make the thing out of dwarf iron. Watch your-"
His boss, Martinn Gelsby, proprietor of a small curio shop known as the Fox's Nest, is interrupted by a small figure snatching something from the stand and running off into the crowd.
"Stop him! Os'dyn! You just going to stand there and smolder at me, boy, or are you going to do your damned job? If you don't find him, and soon, you might as well not come back!" The older man growls.
The lean half-elf looks around at the relatively massive crowd and the quickly disappearing figure of the child. A defeated smile crosses the half-elf's lips.
"It was nice working with you, Master Gelsby. Here. This should cover the cost of that one copper trinket the kid stole," Os'dyn sneers.
He flips a silver piece to Gelsby who looks at the coin in shock.
"I just want you to know, you know, before I leave, that I could have found that kid. Hells, I know who he is. I choose not to because it's about the only power I've got left. So, take your job. Take your coin. And shove both of them down your gob."
Os'dyn turns, without another word, and walks into the milling crowd.
Well, I did want the day off.
As Os'dyn walks around the fair, a woman with foreign features pushes a tankard into his hand. "Good Swallowtail Festival!" She says in a harried voice, pouring more ale from the giant keg behind her. It's not the greatest of ale, but it was paid for by the city, and thus free.
Leaning against the wagon is a goblin, which is unusual. It's also drinking a mug of ale, even more unusual. It wears very good armor, and has a massive chunk of steel in the shape of a sword on it's back. And it's arms bulge more than most smiths. The goblin looks up at Os'dyn, gives a non-commital nod, and a grunt that might be taken as a good festival greeting. Or gas. One of the two.
Helgarr strode slowly across the Cathedral square, taking in the sights and sounds all around her - it had been a very long trip thus far, all the way from her ancestral lands in the Storval Plateau, but she was finally reaching her first destination - Magnimar.
The younger of four siblings, having just completed her rite of passage during the last year, the young woman sports nonetheless all the distinct markings of her tribe, the Shundar-Quah, and of her people, the Shoanti - a massive frame, perfectly sculpted from years of running and hunting in the wild; her mother's dark brown eyes coupled with her father's fierce look make her stand out in the crowd.
Her short hair, and exposed neck, partially reveal one of her tatoos, not uncommon in Shoanti clans, but clearly important to be in such a prominent display. In spite of the rigid armour made of small lacquered leather plates, the clearly evident polearm and greatsword at her back, and the fully packed backpack, she seems to move effortlessly, easily carrying along the many travelling and combat implements.
Scanning the area, Helgarr feels satisfied that she heeded the advice from Gramium - her clan's shaman - regarding the path to take from the Plateau, to reach Magnimar. He had urged her to visit Sandpoint by the time of the Swallowtail Festival, sharing in the festivities, and enjoying most of the local specialities, but she knew there was more even before he had informed her...
The bustling activity was always somewhat unsettling to the young barbarian - her clan, and particularly her village home were never as filled with noise and celebration, unless a very special occasion called for it - beset on one side by the seemingly unending orcs spewing from The Hold of Belkzen, in a land where the threat of trolls, ogres and, worse of all, giants was a constant reality, the ones from the Shundar-Quah held onto survival as a way of life, and her kinsmen and women even more so, after their village had been destroyed by a giant incursion at the eastern foot of the Kodar Mountains - with many dead, they had to move away, and start everything from scratch. Everything was better now, but living with those threats had been the harsh reality of her life ever since she could remember.
But looking around at this hyperactive plaza brought a smile to her lips, and a completely distinct carefree notion that she could not help but admire, and actually feel somewhat contaminated by. Shaking all those considerations from her mind, she decided to start paying more attention to the stalls, its curiosities and best deals - That venison seems like a perfect place to start - she pondered - White Deer... - she began reading, but immediately got distracted, realizing her hand was already gripping the polearm at her back, as she noticed a small figure leaning against a wagon a few yards away - a goblin!
Most people do not seem to be paying that much attention to the creature, apart some sidelong glances, so after a few tense moments Helgarr simply shakes her head with a smile - "Relax Helgarr. You are now officially in civilized lands..." - she whispers to herself, heading to the venison stall for a taste.
Ravboom notices a young human, a female he thinks, staring at him with hostility and reaching for her weapon. The goblin's eyes narrow over his mug and he moves a tiny bit so he's no longer leaning on the wagon, his body tensed to move.
Then the human shakes her head and moves on, relaxing, and Ravboom relaxes as well, although not as much as he had been earlier.
Standing near the White Deer's venison stand is a rather strange creature. He sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the mostly human crowd, towering a foot over some of their heads. The man-thing is covered in chocolate-red colored fur from head to toe, and has only four digits on each hand. He has long pointed ears (though one is torn off raggedly), and monochromatic yellow eyes that lack irises or pupils. He's dressed only in some light chain armor and a loin cloth, and carries a backpack, quiver and longbow as well as a two handed blade. He also has a wooden holy symbol of Erastil displayed prominently around his neck.
Despite his appearance, the follower of Old Deadeye seems to be perfectly at ease amongst the crowd and not threatening anyone around him. He's currently in the process of devouring a handful of the peppercorn venison skewers, while leaning against the outside edge of the stall. When he sees the tall Shoanti girl approaching and whispering to herself while looking a bit nervous he stands up straight. Once she's close he smiles and says, "Well, hello there. My name's Eugeni. You should try some of this venison, I helped hunt some of it myself. It's delicious." He offers her a skewer while continuing to smile.
Still distracted about the goblin, Helgarr surprisingly didn't actually notice the very unusual stranger until he spoke - completely caught by surprise, there was a long, uncomfortable moment of silence while brown eyes sized up the huge creature in front of her - mind racing while trying to place his origins or ethnicity.
Civilized - the word still echoed in her head, while in those seconds her reactions unconsciously ranged from shunning the one greeting her,simply ignoring him, or even draw steel. But Shundar-Quah are not like that - there was a reason why her parents had insisted on her accompanying almost every possible diplomatic and trading mission for their tribe - it was supposed to make a difference in how she saw the world at large, in all its vastness beyond the Plateau - and it had.
Not smiling, but with a courteous tone, she returned the greeting - "Well met - I am Helgarr" - she nods shortly - "You have read my thoughts it seems - The venison is the reason why I was heading towards this stall" - she accepts the offered skewer - "You are... A hunter for this town?" - she questions, while digging into the meat.
"I guess you could say that. I'm a hunter, and I sell my meat and furs here, but I live out in the forest usually. I came in today for the Swallowtail Festival and the opening of the cathedral. I'm a priest of Erastil," he says, lifting his holy symbol for a second with his off hand before allowing it to fall back to his chest. "So the cathedral is kind of a big deal for me."
Eugeni takes in her darkly tanned skin and taught muscles, as well as her rugged gear. "You've still got the look of the Storval all over you. Are you also here for the festival?"
Feeling himself getting a little light headed from the ale with nothing else on his stomach, when Mina gives him a second pitcher, Ravboom thanks her then moves over toward the food stalls. He doens't get out of people's way, but he doesn't intentionally get in their way either. He's used to the hostile looks by now. What he's not used to is free food and drink, so when he get's to the venison stall, he reaches up to the counter and drops coppers on the counter. "Ravboom take 3 venison sticks." The goblin says, his common clear but accented. He tries not to tense as the human female who'd almost pulled her weapon earlier is also at the stall, but his hands twitch a bit as he pulls them back down, nerves ready to fire if he's attacked.
Eugeni smiles at Ravboom. "Hello...Ravboom. Coming right up. You must have quite the stomach on you. I eat three and I'm full!" he exclaims as he turns to fetch the skewers for Ravboom. "Here ya go," he says, handing over three of the juicy looking treats.
"I don't think I've seen you around here before either Ravboom. You needn't pay for the food today, it's a special day. I'm Eugeni, welcome to Sandpoint." The aasimar is very careful to show no negative reaction towards Ravboom due to his goblin-ness. He knows exactly what it's like to be judged by your appearance and so he doesn't want to inflict that on anyone else. Ravboom appears to be relatively civilized. More so that Eugeni himself in fact. Let others call him out for his race.
Ravboom grumbles in goblin, something about strange big two leg rituals for those that speak goblin. "Ravboom not eat today. Ravboom thank." He glints up at Eugenie. "Fuzzy." He comments, then bites the first skewer in half, chewing it up wooden skewer and all.
Maybe not as civilized as I thought... Eugeni thinks, watching the goblin devour the skewer. I have no idea what he just said means either. Oh well, just smile and nod... Eugeni smiles, and nods to Ravboom, before turning his attention back to Helgarr in anticipation of her reply.
Ravboom chews the other half of the skewer thoughtfully. Still glinting up at Eugeni. "What be?" He asks, after swallowing. [b]"Ravboom be Goblin. What Eugeni be? Never see Fuzzy human or elf before. Eugeni be gnoll? Never see gnoll before."
Eugeni shrugs. "I don't really know Ravboom. My parents were humans though. I'm definitely not a gnoll. Some people think I'm a tiefling, others have called me kin to a hound archon. I don't really know what that is, some kind of angel or something. I've never seen a goblin with such nice armor and weapons before. What do you do?"
Ravboom thumps his chest hard. "Ravboom kill monsters. Kill giant snakes. Kill giant scorpions. Kill giant spiders. Kill undead. Ravboom bring back proof, get bounty."
"Well, that's a great way to contribute to the community. I'm glad to hear you've made something of yourself. Are you in Sandpoint to cash in on a bounty?" Eugeni asks the proud little goblin. As he does so, he scratches behind one ear in a rather dog-like fashion. Then he reaches one long gangly limb over and grabs another venison skewer. He begins nibbling on it, savoring each bite as he listens to Ravboom's response.
Ravboom watches the not-gnoll scratch like a dog, and narrows his eyes. "Sure not gnoll?" He asks, looking a little suspicious, perhaps there are bounties on gnolls. But then he droops a little and looks depressed. "Teacher had go boat, back family, had take dock. Watch boat go. Not come back."
|
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
"The last few months have been a trying time, cutting across Razmiran was a BAD idea." Kala thinks as she walks into the small town known as Sandpoint.
"Well, I'm finally here," she says to herself. As she walks through the town the signs of some sort of festival are apparent. A short search of the town leads Kala to the doorstep of the Goblin Squash Stables, but it seems to be closed.
"Must be at the festival" she says to herself, sighing. She continues, "Well, I guess there's nothing for it but to go there myself." A few minutes later Kala strides into the square and searches for something to eat and drink.
Os'dyn's hand clenches the tankard harder than he expects accidentally snapping the handle off spilling the free beer to the dirt floor of the square.
A goblin? Here?
Suddenly a switch flips in his head. And, by suddenly, this author means over a few minutes since the others have approached and started talking to the goblin.
"You're the-"
Then, he notices the Shoanti woman and the furry guy. Once again, his mind attempts to adjust to the situation and manages to succeed. Os'Dyn shrugs to himself in defeat.
"A goblin, a Shoanti, a half-elf mutt, and a different kind of mutt walk into each other at a fair. Sounds like the start of a joke."
Os'dyn attempts a smile at the gathered group but due to his distraction from recent events, mainly looks like he's swallowed a bug.
Ravboom looks up as someone mutilates goblin. The language, not the species. "ВИЕ НЕ говори добро. НЕОБХОДИМОСТТА ОТ устата се измива С ПОЖАР ПЛАМЪК ТОПЛИНА лава и ПЛАЗМА." He replies to Os'Dyn in goblin.
"Ravboom no think joke end well, if was goblin joke, would end with 'And then human joke teller get spitted roasted and eaten! HAHA It funny because it got eaten!'" The goblin says, flashing a very wide smile full of little triangular sharp teeth.
Ravboom watches the not-gnoll scratch like a dog, and narrows his eyes. "Sure not gnoll?" He asks, looking a little suspicious, perhaps there are bounties on gnolls. But then he droops a little and looks depressed. "Teacher had go boat, back family, had take dock. Watch boat go. Not come back."
"Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sorry that your teacher had to leave you. Are you going to be okay now?" Eugeni asks.
His question goes unanswered as the half-elf guard walks up the the White Deer stand. Eugeni laughs at the distracted looking man's attempt at a joke, then shakes his head at Ravboom's reply. "Hey, I've seen you in town a couple of times before with Vhiski's boys haven't I? What's your name? I'm Eugeni Silva," he says to Os'dyn. Man, Helgarr must feel shy around all these town folk.
"I guess you could say that. I'm a hunter, and I sell my meat and furs here, but I live out in the forest usually. I came in today for the Swallowtail Festival and the opening of the cathedral. I'm a priest of Erastil," he says, lifting his holy symbol for a second with his off hand before allowing it to fall back to his chest. "So the cathedral is kind of a big deal for me."
Eugeni takes in her darkly tanned skin and taught muscles, as well as her rugged gear. "You've still got the look of the Storval all over you. Are you also here for the festival?"
"You could say that - I am on route to Magnimar, and was advised by my tribe shaman - Gramium - to stop by the town of Sandpoint during the Swallowtail festival, that I would enjoy it" - she takes another bite of the venison - "So here I am, and he was right so far"
Looking around the plaza, she adds - "You are right, the Plateau is my home, and it has shaped me into what I am. But this here is different - the sights, the smells, there are a million different people, and a million different things to do and learn, it would seem"
"I guess you could say that. I'm a hunter, and I sell my meat and furs here, but I live out in the forest usually. I came in today for the Swallowtail Festival and the opening of the cathedral. I'm a priest of Erastil," he says, lifting his holy symbol for a second with his off hand before allowing it to fall back to his chest. "So the cathedral is kind of a big deal for me."
Eugeni takes in her darkly tanned skin and taught muscles, as well as her rugged gear. "You've still got the look of the Storval all over you. Are you also here for the festival?"
"You could say that - I am on route to Magnimar, and was advised by my tribe shaman - Gramium - to stop by the town of Sandpoint during the Swallowtail festival, that I would enjoy it" - she takes another bite of the venison - "So here I am, and he was right so far"
Looking around the plaza, she adds - "You are right, the Plateau is my home, and it has shaped me into what I am. But this here is different - the sights, the smells, there are a million different people, and a million different things to do and learn, it would seem"
"Yeah, I don't like it as much as the forest, but Sandpoint is pretty cool. Don't be intimidated though, it's mostly all good stuff," Eugeni replies, grinning between bites of his venison. "I'm glad to hear you're having fun, I am too. It's not very often that I meet so many new people at once. Hunting out in the woods is great, but there's not a lot of opportunity for socialization out there. So, why are you headed for Magnimar?"
Helgarr seems somewhat taken aback by the bluntness of the question, and mulls it over momentarily, while at the same time munching on the venison - "It is a part of my rite of passage" - she answers - "I have already been through the combat trials that strengthened the bond between me and my beast spirit totem" - she stops chewing, and smiles briefly, as if drawn back to some not so distant memory, then continues both eating and talking - "I have proven myself a worthy member of my Quah, but that was just the beginning - The Journey is what lies ahead of me now"
Putting down the venison, she looks at Eugeni more intently - "The Spirit Walk is something my clan holds very dear to its heart, and so do I - we, the Shoanti, have long struggled to recover our ancestral land. It is beset by all sides, orcs to the East, goblins to the Southeast, and giants coming down from the Kodar mountains. Our quah-jothka’s counsel believes that we need to stop looking solely inwards, and start facing the world around us without seeing only enemies - we need to understand it much better than we have done so far" - she ponders for a few seconds - "And that is why my Journey has taken a different outlook, with the jothka's and my family's blessing, I am walking the region you call Varisia, instead of simply travelling Shoanti lands as tradition dictates"
She looks at those gathered in the plaza, and finishes - "Much like others have done in the past, by spending years among the members of other quah, learning of the differing ways of our own people - problems and strengths alike, I have decided to take my Spirit Walk outside the borders of our lands - I believe it will make a difference" - her voice resolute and strong - "I decided to head southeast to Magnimar for that reason - I intend to visit the main cities in the entire region. But something else drew me in also - there have been increasing reports from our scouts, of giant kin mobilizing through the countryside beyond the Sorval Stairs, no more than two hundred and something miles northeast from here..." - she leaves the thought hanging.
Eugeni listens intently to Helgarr's explanation. Then he responds, "Well I hope they stay there. I've heard giants are terrible. Luckily I've never come across one personally. It sounds like you're on quite the journey. What have you learned so far?"
Ravboom just stands there and listens, not understanding a lot of what is being said, given his utter lack of knowledge about Shoanti. He shrugs, at least they're not talking about goblin ear bounties. That keeps him out of trouble for killing. He munches the next skewer as he listens to the conversation, eyes sliding to the awkward human from time to time to see what he's doing besides standing there with a glazed look.
Eugeni listens intently to Helgarr's explanation. Then he responds, "Well I hope they stay there. I've heard giants are terrible. Luckily I've never come across one personally. It sounds like you're on quite the journey. What have you learned so far?"
"If you mean as far as the giant activity in the area, I actually met with no success at all" - Helgarr shakes her head - "I moved in a general south by west direction to get to Sandpoint - travelled along an almost overgrown path near the Lampblack river until reaching Ravenmoor - strange place that one - I managed to enter the gates easily during the day, but it was almost impossible to find a place to stay as soon as the dusk settled in" - she shrugs.
"I avoided Wolf's Ear, as it is considered a damned place by my people, and proceeded southbound to Galduria - I had intended to access the library at the Twilight Academy, but I was not allowed access - they claimed some sort of writ of acceptance from the local authorities was necessary, simply to make the request at the Academy itself, and even then, it could take months until its approval, or rejection. I decided to leave it at that, and travelled in a straight line to Sandpoint" - she looks around.
"During the trip, I found absolutely no indication that would lead me to believe in giant presence in the area, which actually feels strange - our scouts are good and strong men, with piercing sight, able to spot a hawk along the horizon line - I don't think they were mistaken in their alert - the fact that I saw no signs of such activity leads me to believe they were moving somewhere else, or that they are acting covertly - an unusual habit for giants"
Os'dyn blanches at Ravboom's response in Goblin. He is unable to respond before Eugeni mentions Vhiski.
The hair on the back of Os'dyn's neck stands up as he eyes the furry man.
"No idea what you're talking about. Vhiski is Sczarni. Anyone seen with him would possibly be considered dangerous and an outlaw.
Jubrayl Vhiski will haunt me to the end of my days. I'm square with the man, but all it takes is someone who's seen me in his general vicinity and I'm right square back to being the street tough my mother always warned me I was becoming.
Outwardly, Os'dyn eyes Eugeni trying to figure out if the man means him harm or not. It is obvious that the half-elf is defensive about the subject.
"I have heard about these Sczarni before - they are criminals no?" - Helgarr questions matter of fact, as she finishes her meal, looking for something additional to drink with the venison.
Eugeni is about to answer Helgarr when a skilled fiddler wanders by playing a fluttering, ethereal tune. He grins and sways to the music until the man wanders away and then says, "Wow. He was pretty good!"
As Helgarr's question finally registers with him he says, "Oh yeah...the Sczarni. Yes, they are criminals. Some are worse than others though. My father for example was one of the more cruel specimens..." That last thought seems to bring back some unpleasantness for Eugeni, and his smile slips. He reaches up subconsciously and rubs at the stump of scar tissue that is the remains of his left ear.
|
|
Kala, having eaten her fill, wanders through the crowd. Shortly after passing by a fairly good musician she comes upon a rather strange sight, at least for a civilized city. Some gnoll like being and a goblin stand before her speaking to a pair of more common folks, a Shoanti and a half-elf by looks.
What kind of town IS this? she thought. A mention of the Sczarni crime families catches Kala's ear, and she tries to listen in without being too obvious.
Xamarath's arrival at Sandpoint was not particularly glamorous. After having spent the majority of the trip making passes at the wife of the very drover the wizard paid to deliver him safely to Sandpoint, a middle aged woman of fading beauty and considerable cleavage, he probably should have counted himself lucky he arrived at all. Truth be told, he had no intentions of imposing on her own nuptial commitments. Charm, however, was not terribly unlike a blade. Without regular honing and sharpening, its practicality would wane. After arriving, his belongings were heaved onto the street unceremoniously by Fiskon Tando, the drover, landing with a great puff of dirt and dust before the man scowled his "good riddance" at Xamarath's backside.
He had arrived a full week ahead of the festival, and after securing accommodations at The Rusty Dragon, spent the remainder of the week making futile passes at Ameiko Kaijitsu, the proprietor of the establishment; Ironclad, that woman's resilience. And yet, she was an exotic beauty that rivaled even the most beautiful specimens Xamarath had ever seen from Kara-Tur. His charm soon spilled over to the various serving wenches instead, with whom he found far more reception to his attempts at wooing and impressing. Unfortunately, such luxurious mannerisms soon found his Pathfinder's stipend vanishing much more quickly than he had anticipated. Given such a development, he turned his attention to cataloging his exploits, however mundane they might be, as requested by his sponsors in the Grand Lodge. As usual, he made sure to record in the margins various derisive terms and epithets about Master Aram Zey's incompetence at wizardry, as he knew the man would no doubt be one of the few privileged with actually reading his words.
Xamarath has his hopes set on a brilliant display of fireworks. He is surprised, but somewhat disappointed as the streams of butterflies emerge from beneath the canvas to sprawl out, over, and around Sandpoint. Noting the lack of pyrotechnics at a supposed festival, he instead turns his attention to the throngs of locals and foreigners, hoping to receive some measure of entertainment among their number instead. The empty plate and mug on the stoop before him, once containing curry salmon and early winterdrop mead, are abandoned wholesale. It is time to enjoy himself.
Though disparate and many are the faces among the crowd, there are none so striking as the spectacle of goblin, hound-man, and Shoanti arrayed before the venison stand. He abandons what had seemed a promising prospect in a young, auburn haired seamstress with an intoxicating smile—in mid-sentence, at that—to surge his way through the crowds and towards the odd trio beyond. That same trio see the fairly tall wizard in red approaching with a subdued smile, his chosen destination plain for all to witness.
Xamarath is tall, lean, and hale, with a well toned body; the kind that makes all the ladies swoon. His features are more masculine than his occupation typically affords—a very handsome face framed by a chiseled jawline and strong chin. He has perfect eyebrows that crown eyes that gleam like emeralds, beneath which sits a straight nose and dimpled smile revealing pearly, white teeth. The beginnings of a goatee are evident upon his upper lip and chin, though his age has yet to afford him enough traction to grow anything worthy of grooming.
His clothing looks as to be kept in a state of immaculate repair. Though he sports robes, the majority of his garments lack the typically voluminous quality that most practitioners of the arcane tend towards. Richly appointed, his clothing hugs his upper body and arms enough so as to accentuate his admirable physique, with the sleeves flaring out nearer to the wrists. All that he wears is predominantly bright crimson in color and hue, with an elaborate network of golden stitching, hems, borders, and filigreed detail abounding. The skirt of his robes split in the front and rapidly recede to the back of his thighs, where it spills onto the ground behind him to reveal a suit of black trousers that end in a couple of well-worn, brown boots. Various baubles and trinkets relating to arcane pursuits are fastened and festooned about his person, arranged neatly and practically so as not to interfere with either his well kept image or the elaborate range of motion spellcasting requires.
At the red wizard's approach, a faint scent of incense precedes him, soon replaced by a more overpowering tinge of cinnamon. With a practiced flourish of a bow, he stiffens up and speaks in a soothing voice "So, this is the Swallowtail Festival, then?"
Grinning more broadly, he formally introduces himself to all present. "The name's Xamarath! Fresh off the boat from Absalom to take in this... erm... rustic and filling festival. Have any of you tried the curry salmon over at Ameiko's stand? It's pretty damn good." His accent defies identification, though he is clearly a foreigner of some walk. Though his speech is correct and proper form, there is a forced tinge in the dialect that is no doubt the result of much time spent in the more civilized reaches of Absalom, yet distinctly different.
Ravboom just listens as he downs his third skewer of meat, his head clearing with the extra protein in his bloodstream. As the fiddler wanders by, his ears begin to wiggle in time to the music of the fiddle.
The good music distracts him, and he doesn't notice the armored person sneaking around the edges of the group.
Varius always liked festivals he remembered attending some before he met the old man. The difference is back then he was looking for easy marks and vendor careless with their wares. When he was adoptive the town he moved into didn't have many festivals and those that he did attend he never felt very welcome. Varius felt his stomach rumble. Guess it time I get something to eat. he approaches the venison cart but keeps his ears and eyes open to his surroundings like his mentor taught him.
Varius smiles at the group as he approaches."I'd take a few Venison strips please." The sight of the furry man and goblin were unusual but Varius hid any sign that he sought so from his face.
Ravboom points behind and beyond Varius. "Free ale by wagon." The gobby says in a clearly accented, but perfectly understandable, common.
Varius turns toward the Goblin.
"Говори ДОБРО. НЯМА НУЖДА ОТ устата се измива С ПОЖАР ПЛАМЪК ТОПЛИНА лава и ПЛАЗМА" Ravboom grunts.
Varius smiles.
Knowing how crazy the Swallowtail festival gets, with folks coming in from all over, Zoli and her father Tanitus arrived early. They managed to beat the worst of the line at the Rusty Dragon, and then scrambled up onto a low rooftop to ensure a good view while they enjoyed their curried salmon and winterdrop mead.
When Cyrdak Drokkus talks about The Harpy’s Curse, her dad's shoulders sag and he says with a sigh, ”That’s right...and I’ll be reprising my illustrious role as friggin’ Human Boy #2. You know I can act twice as well as Uric, who got the role of Staligol this year, don’t you?”
Rolling her eyes, Zoli replies, ”Yes, and I know perfectly well that it doesn’t matter how well a halfling acts in Drokkus’ theater: we're cast as human children. And yet you keep asking me why I’m not interested in following you into the theater?”
”Oh, you complain about your prospects in the theater and then go scampering about in ruins outside of town!? With bandits and goblins and giants and--”
Zoli waves to silence her father. ”Hush Poppa! Father Zantus is going to say a prayer to Desna!”
They listen attently to the priest, and raise their mugs in unison when the swallowtails are released. ”To Desna, the Tender Of Dreams! May her starlight always shine on our paths!” they cheer in unison. After only the briefest of pauses, Zoli adds, ”And to her dear, unflappable companion, Chaldira Zuzaristan! May the Calamitous Turn’s splendid luck overflow forever!” elbowing her father playfully, she adds in a breathless rush: ”And may fuddy-duddies never stand in the way of Desna’s and Chaldira’s marvelous adventures or make them doubt that good fortune will see them through and may they be pleased by those of us who their call and explore the world instead of just reading plays about it!”
At his daughter’s rant, Tanitus starts to choke and sputter on his mead. While he’s clearing his throat for a rebuttal, Zoli exclaims, ”Holy Chaldira, look at that! Over by the White Deer’s booth: The Talking Dog, sharing venison with a goblin? This I gotta check out, Poppa! Don’t wait up for me!” And at that she winks and tumbles gracefully down from the rooftop, sending a cloud of Desna’s beloved butterflies scattering around her.
Zoli’s seen the furry hunter in town a couple times from a distance. She and her friends always refer to him as The Talking Dog or just Spot. A goblin at the Sparrowtail festival on the other hand? That was a first, and it took some nerve! Seeing a small crowd begin to form around the two of them...well it was bound to be a better time than rehashing old arguments with Poppa.
Arriving just in time to hear the red mage introduce himself, Zoli’s surprised to find herself at least as curious about him. Xamarath? What’s that accent? Poppa practices quite a few for the theater but that one's utterly unplaceable.
Zoli looks the handsome wizard up and down and matches his bow with a dextrous flourish of her own. Her smile exudes joy, an easy self assurance, and a healthy helping of mischief. Though clearly young, she’s on the taller and better muscled side for a halfling. Her skin is the color of cinnamon, and her brown hair is worn in many small braids, pulled back into a single pony tail. She’s dressed practically in browns trousers and an olive blouse under a red lamellar cuirass, and she wears a rapier by her side. Pinned in her hair is an unusual red lacquered button that would be large even for a human.
”Ahh yes, the Red Dragon always serves the finest food -- no offense to the venison here, I’m sure it’s fine too.” Smiling at the Talking Dog she adds, ”...and freshly caught, no?”
”Xamarath, you say? Pleased to meet you. I’m Zoli Tileani, Budding Explorer of Great Ruins. You say you’re just off the boat from Absolom but I’d wager that’s not where you hail from originally, is it? My apologies. I’m usually quite good with accents and name origins...but yours eludes me entirely.”
In response to the several newcomers to the White Deer's venison stand Eugeni motions to the food. "Yes, it's freshly killed, and freely available. Take as much as you want. I took three deer over the last couple days, and I'm not the only hunter. There should be plenty to go around."
He tries to listen to all the people arriving, but it's getting a little overwhelming. The most personable seems to be this Xamarath fellow. Since he actually introduced himself, Eugeni offers him one furry hand. "Hello, pleasure to meet you Xamarath. I'm Eugeni," he says. He sniffs the air around the red garbed man a few times. "You smell delicious...What is that, cinnamon?"
Just then the newly arrived halfling girl introduces herself and questions the man about his origins. A cinnamon scented man from an unknown land? How exciting!
The goblin seems to be a bit uncomfortable with all the people gathering so close. He moves down the side of the cart, and steps back into the space between the venison cart and the one next to it. He opens his mouth to answer about liking fire, when suddenly his eyes go saucer shaped and turns, staring up and up.
The next cart over is a fireworks stand, and the owner has just opened the side to reveal the fireworks inside. One big meaty hand holds out a sparkler that dances bright sparks of fire as they drop to the ground. "Fireworks! Can't celebrate the Swallowtail Festival with out Fireworks! Not Free! Sorry folks, they're expensive, but selling them at cost!"
Ravboom's eyes glisten as he watches the sparkler dance with fire.
Joking and cheering with mead in their hands a group of craftsmen of various ages wander towards the venison stall
"Right boys!" this comes incongruously from the slightest and youngest member of the company, a youth dressed in a blacksmith's clothes, silver and gold tattoos shaped like runes covering most of his body and a nightingale on his shoulder."You've all got your bonus! Have fun! Tomorrow's a holiday and I don't care if you bring home a guest tonight!" this last greeted with raucous cheers "You've all done a great job on that temple so let's hope the gods give us a pass on tonight!"
The group cheers one more time and scatters through the crowd. The boy appears to be listening to something as he wanders towards the venison stall
"okay, okay, I'll eat something before I..." seemingly distracted while talking to himself he is about to run into the heavily armored goblin.
There seems to be in fact a momentary pause in the conversation, as the man in the green vest and with the colorful ribboned hat passes by playing a soft but absorbing tune. Having already finished eating, Helgarr simply leans against the stall, arms crossed over her chest, taking the music in, momentarily dettached from the overall ruckus of the plaza.
Taking notice of the woman clad in scale armour that seems to hover closeby, the barbarian girl double checks to make sure her weapon is in easy reach, leaning against a wall, but takes no further action, monitoring her from the corner of the eye.
She is still mulling over the fact that Eugeni has apparently flat out stated that his father is or was a criminal, when the tip from the goblin, that had been mostly silent up until now, regarding free ale, catches her attention - Weren't you just looking for something to drink? - she ponders, turning with a nod to the goblin, in some sort of awkward attempt at thanking for the information.
All of a sudden, multiple things seem to happen at the same time, with several strangers approaching the stall, and introducing themselves. Helgarr finds herself turning left and right - "No, I have never tasted the curry..." - "Мойте рот с огнем?" - "Well met Zoli - I am Helgarr, you are a... Budding Explorer of Great Ruins?" - "Cinnamon?" - "Fireworks?" - clearly not able to keep up with all the conversations, and instead shutting herself up by drinking some ale.
"Wash mouth with fire?"
"Stop!" the bird on the distracted man's shoulder shrieks loudly.
The man instantly freezes where he stands, and looks around, but not down.
"What? Trap? Spell?"
In looking around his eyes spot Eugeni and his venison
"Ooh! Food!"
Tracking a little further he spots Helgarr, staring at her chest
"Ooh! Nice breastplate! Shoanti Lamellar?"
On the man's shoulder the little nightingale appears to peck at his backpack straps. Closer investigation reveals he is softly smacking his head against it.
"Down" he says, more quietly but still audible "Look. Down."