.
Swan closes her eyes and patiently listens to the rain.
Brunhilda carefully oils the blade of her axe. She hums a soft tune.
Trapdodger finds himself caught up in watching the antics of the local wildlife, so familiar yet so wonderfully different at the same time...
Onrik watches as the sun rises yet another day. He disappears down an old tracker's trail...
The sun rises slowly over the sleepy frontier town of Sandpoint. Though the summer has all but ended, the morning is warm, and children excitedly hop out of bed, dash to get dressed, and hurry through the steps of their morning routine to get outside and enjoy the day.
Looking out the window, one can easily see life going on as it does every morning. A ship is scheduled to arrive by midday, and there are men on the dock preparing. The mayor, Kendra Deverin, takes her normal morning stroll, stopping every now and again to exchange simple peasantries or chat with the few townspeople who are up. There is always work to be done, and it isn't long before more people begin to stir.
Trapdodger lounges in the sun from a windowsill of an upper story...in the form of an overgrown cat, after a few more minutes of sunlight he rolls into his room and becoming a halfling again heads out into the streets of the town....
Seeing the docks he thinks about the boats and about returning home to the Sapphire Islands.....
The smell of freshly caught fish still in his nose...strange how the smell of food sustained him, he didn't remember the last time he ate, at least as a halfling....
Brunhilda uses a damp cloth to wipe the sweat from her brow, and takes a deep gulp from a waterskin on her room's table. Cracking her neck from side to side, she drops to the floor again and does push-ups.
When she finishes, she takes deep breaths from her open window and the warm summer morning. Sitting at her table, she pulls up her shield with a grunt, and sets about polishing the shield's metal.
Onrik at the weather beaten sign that reads 'Sandpoint'. Even at this early hour people could be seen stirring. It was how these small settlement's survived he had come to learn in his travels. Up before light to maximize the day's tasks. It was something that he could appreciate unlike the lazy sods that populated the cities.
Adjusting his gear he strides past the wooden gate. 'Unguarded?' he shook his head and adjusted his gear. He walked towards the middle of town confident that it would lead him to the town square.
Swan is just returning from a week spent in echoing solitude at Ravenroost, her childhood home. Empty of her people for near a decade now, it is a place of memory for her, and - like most things - memories demand their due.
Now, her respects paid, the small house clean(-ish) and sturdily locked, she is looking forward to sitting down at Risa's Place and sharing a luncheon platter of spiced potatoes with Brunhilda, and watching little Trap watch the two of them eat. The walk from the hills of the 'Roost is an easy one - west along the Lost Coast Road, with the morning sun gentle at her back - but it's just long enough to work up a healthy appetite.
Too early for potatoes yet, though...
A smile on her face, Swan moves easily through Sandpoint's friendly bustle, heading for the docks, aiming to sit a spell with her toes in the tide and the gulls screaming overhead.
As Swan leaves behind Ravenroost and begins to walk through the city towards the Docks, she spots Trap moving in the same direction. More people begin to floor the streets, and she almost loses sight of him a few times in the crowd.
With her physical regiment finished, and shield polished, Brunhilda is ready to face the day. As she's looking over her work with a feeling of pride, there comes a knock at the door.
It is a surprise to Onrik that Sandpoint should be so unguarded. Even as a peninsula that should be easily defendable, the wooden bridges on the East side do not raise, and the wooden wall to the North could be easily battered through.
It speaks of the town itself that these are not concerns, and indeed as Onrik begins to walk through, most of the townspeople seem happy and busy. He has been in enough towns to suspect something lurking under the surface, however.
Arriving in the town center, he finds a few workmen setting up a small stage and podium, being directed by an old man in blue robes. There are a few people looking on with excitement, while others around are putting the finishing touches on setting up their small shops. A group of children race through the scene, taking in the warm day.
Trying to catch up to her friend, Swan picks up her pace, leaving smiles and apologies in her widening wake.
TRAP! she finally blurts, wishing - not for the first time - she had even a touch of the halfling's nimble grace.
He turns about on the dock and hops up on a small crate to make himself more visible, and waves....
"I am just here then...Swan, over here!"
Seeing town center he moves along to where the crowd is gathering about the newly erected stage.
Dawn blessings to ye. What might be taking place 'ere? My feet have yet to set place in y'ere town till this morn, but it seems a sort of event is to take place?
Opening up the question to anyone in the crowd he continues to look toward the old man in the blue robes.
Brunhilda makes sure she is presentable, smoothing down her tunic, and opens the inn room's door.
"Yes?" She says, through her thick accent.
Swan beams happily at the sight of her friend.
"I am glad to see you today, Trap. You're looking well!"
Her smile gets even wider, and maybe a bit conspiratorial.
"Change of plans! C'mon with me, let's go fetch Brun and see a bit of the Festival before it gets too crowded... forgot it was today, or I'd have been back yesterday."
Her eyes, deep-set and storm-cloud blue, dance as she offers one last, tempting tidbit.
"I passed a stall back near the chapel square, busy setting up... Gnomish Rock-Candy! It's been years since I had any!
Rock candy thinks Trap as he remembers the way it looked as if the iguanas were eating the rocks along the craggy coast....
"Rock candy??"
"I still fail to understand this planning that consumes the time of the peoples, the land provides for all the needs of the ones who understand it."
"The land provides, yes... But no one understands and provides rock candy quite like a Gnome!"
She winks at the halfling, beckoning as she turns back toward the center of town.
"At least walk with me? After we visit the sweet shop, maybe we can sneak a peek at the butterflies!"
A few people turn with a mixture of surprise and concern when Swan yells out "trap", but it's quickly forgotten as they see her join up with a Halfling. The two exchange their greetings and head off excitedly in the direction of the town center. It takes very little time to reach it, and they can see that while some things are still being set up, plenty of shops are open. You also see Father Zantus, speaking excitedly to a Dwarf.
The man in the robes looks at Onrik, seeming a bit enchanted with either his accent, or the words coming out in it. He comes over quickly, with a hand outstretched and shakes Onrik's. "Welcome, then! My name is Abstalar Zantus, I'm the local priest. You've arrived just in time! We are having a celebration this evening for the goddess Desna. Of course," he quickly adds, "All denominations are welcome here. What brings you to our fine town?"
Brunhilda opens the door to find an older gnome woman waiting there. "Begging yer pardon," She begins, "I was just wondering if you'd be coming out for the festival this evenin'."
Brunhilda opens the door to find an older gnome woman waiting there. "Begging yer pardon," She begins, "I was just wondering if you'd be coming out for the festival this evenin'."
Brunhilda had rented the room for the past week or so, well aware of the festival being held in Sandpoint. Swan had told her all about it on their travels, and how it was well worth the coin to stay in town to experience. Brun had grown fond of her Dwarven kin, even if she was a little washy and refused to listen to Brun's lectures on the merits of a solid shield and armour when the need came for them. She knew she was a little too motherly towards Swan but it she'd sworn to herself that she'd see her safe from harm.
Sandpoint had been a relaxing stay, there was no doubt about it, Swan was on the mark there. The town moved at it's own, slow pace this time in the year. Free from any observable threats, it seemed to exist in it's own bubble of existence. Brun found it to be oddly liberating, not having to train quite as extensively every day. That, and to have comfortable lodging for an extended period of time. The Gnomish landlady who was tending to her needs, Ingrid, had been kind to Brun. She even made her salted lampreys one evening, with lemon butter. Brun's father was excellent at cooking this meal, and it made Brun feel very homesick. But it was something she was happy about. Brun was sure Swan had put the landlady up to it.
"Ya, I will be out. Is this a problem?" Brun was sure her accent was still too thick for the Freelanders this far south, so she spoke slowly and carefully, enunciating every word as clearly as she was able. Sometimes she worried that people viewed her dim. "I'm thinking of leaving now, actually. My friend, Swan, is set to be back in town today."
"Swan look father Zantus, should we say how do or wait until after procuring the candy rock?"
"We've plenty of time for Gnomish sweets later today, I suppose," Swan admits, a mite grudgingly. "But once the Festival is underway, the good Father will be busier than a dwarfling with a feast's full of dirty dishes."
Her dark staff tap tap tapping with her approach, she offers Father Zantus a respectful nod and an easy smile.
"Best of the morning to you, Father." She nods at the rugged dwarf next to the Priest as well, including him in her greeting.
The man in the robes looks at Onrik, seeming a bit enchanted with either his accent, or the words coming out in it. He comes over quickly, with a hand outstretched and shakes Onrik's. "Welcome, then! My name is Abstalar Zantus, I'm the local priest. You've arrived just in time! We are having a celebration this evening for the goddess Desna. Of course," he quickly adds, "All denominations are welcome here. What brings you to our fine town?"
Onrik takes Father Zantus' hand and returns the handshake.
A festival for Desna? What be de reason of de festival? Been a good crop dis yer or does Desna bring ye an increase to yore wee ones born dis yer?
Onrik continues to maintain an easy smile with Father Zantus but studies him searching for any tells that he might reference at a later time.
No doubt dis festival will be a sight to watch Father Zantus. Call me Onrik.
"The butterflies are the best part!" Swan offers, unprovoked.
With a sly smile for Father Zantus, she adds "I have it on good authority" - she pats her heart, setting her merry collection of beaded necklaces a-rattle - "that the rains are enjoying themselves elsewhere today."
Onrik does his best not to look alarmed at the dwarf before him. He had met many in his travels but this dwarf seemed extremely different than any others. Her actions were unusual. Not a heretic. No just eccentric.
He nods back at her and let's her conversation continue with Father Zantus. Behind her he watches as another peculiar halfling moves beside her. Her mate probably. An odd pairing but still the dwarf was odd to begin with so pairing with a halfling in her mind could not be so far out there.
De call me Onrik. What name do ye go by? And yer mate dere? he points his chin in the halfling's direction.
Swan blinks.
Swan blinks again.
A tiny furrow forms between her eyebrows as she cocks her head at this militant dwarf.
She bursts into a sudden shower of laughter and, despite her reassuring words of a moment past and the lack of any clouds, it suddenly smells like rain.
After a good chuckle, she extends her free hand, her broad smile brightening her otherwise plain face. "Swan."
She indicates her smaller friend with a thrust of her chin that mirrors Onrik's motion. "I'll let my friend answer for himself, eh?"
"Onrik?, well met then....I am Trapdodger Barefoot, a budding world traveler, so it would seem..."
Looking at Trap, A world traveler? Might be ye could tell me where yer journeys have taken ye? Sandpoint seems a little out de way for one of yer kin I thinks?
He turns an addresses Swan. My mistake. I placed de halfling to be yer mate. Ye both live in town I be guessing? Tell me more of dis festival dat de priest has mentioned?
The old woman smiles, showing several missing teeth. "Not at all, dearie. In fact, I came to encourage it. Have you seen it before?" Without waiting for a response, she continues. "Aye, it's lovely, all the butterflies glistening in the sunlight. Desna is the mother of luck, she is."
Father Zantus is in the process of opening his mouth to respond to Onrik's questions, when Swan interrupts and the two begin speaking to each other. Slipping away with a wide smile, Zantus nods to the sky. "Aye, you always did bring people together." With a whistle on his cracked and old lips, Father Zantus returns to supervising the festival preparations.
Brunhilda smiles amicably at the niceties the landlady was showing her, appreciative of the care being given. "I have not seen this festival before, no. This god is not familiar to my people. If luck is to be had, I would like to see it. With that in mind, I think I will head out now."
Brunhilda closes and locks the door behind her, smiling at the Gnomish woman as she set out into the street and Sandpoint proper.
"My home is the temperate lands of the Sapphire Islands, I was tossed out of the sea as a boy, truth is I don't remember much about life before that. Eventually I met other halflings who sent me to represent them on the mainland.... There was so much to see after the meeting, I went to see it."
"No need to apologize, Onrik. The laughter put paid to any awkwardness, for certain."
"I love Sandpoint, never a doubt, but I'd be doing the hills of Ravensroost" - She gestures with her staff, vaguely eastwards - "a disservice if I called it my home." Chewing her lower lip, she turns the tables. "Can't place your accent - you've come from afar, then? For something other than the Swallowtail Festival, I'd wager."
Spinning in a slow circle, beads clicking, she raises her hands high, encompassing the bustling chaos of the day. "And speaking of the Festival... it's better shown than told. Come! I've promised Trap that he'll have his first taste of Butterbread Brothers' Finest Rock Candy this morning!"
From afar yes. Might be y'eard bout it, but I doubt it. I come from de Iceshield Mountains to de North of ere. We be hardy clan fighting many a battle gainst de titans and dere giant spawn.
He pauses as a distant thought clearly crosses his mind.
Mind ye, dat be a tale for anuda time. Take me to dis festival so I might share de joy of yer town.
Trap decides he is going to obtain some of these rocks that will fit into a sling should the legendary rock biter ever be upon him...
"A fine plan."
"We're off, then!" Swan exclaims, a merry grin on her face. "Time enough to see a few things before we meet Brun for luncheon. Tell me, Onrik... do you like spiced potatoes?"
Swan heads off towards where she saw the candy stall, keeping up a running commentary as she goes.
Hmm potaoes...good choice especially when served with some buttered carrots. We be off to find a friend of yurs? Be dere a chance ye cud tell me bout dis town?
"As I understand this town is full of kind folk with little to keep fighting men entertained if it has dangerous animals or monsters I have not seen them....though I know little of towns. I do know about tubers and roots which are good to eat."
The halfling shrugs.....
"Hemlock and his guardsmen do a right enough job keeping the streets safe, that's truth. Had a rough patch a few years back, before Hemlock was sheriff; Some folk were murdered and the old Church burned down, all in the space of a season. Quiet since then, though."
Swan indicates the imposing new chapel structure with a nod of her head. "The new chapel's being... consecrated?... today, as part of the festivities, as a matter of fact. I'd imagine Desna's pretty pleased with the work that's been done here."
She continues her wending way through the increasingly active streets, offering asides over her shoulder.
"Town's young by Dwarven standards; maybe a hundred years or so? I think we're technically under the rule of Magnimar - south down the coast - but don't see much from them, governance-wise or else, for that matter. Besides the new church, she's got a playhouse, a busy lumber mill, old Kaijutsu's Glassworks, the old Elfin Light" - she points to a crumbling beacon tower, looking out to sea from atop the headland - "and a good thousand fine folks doing their best to make it a bright place."
She spins again, arms outstretched and a proud smile on her face "The Jewel of the Lost Coast, they call her, and rightly so, if you're asking me."
Onrik takes it all in with a smile.
The consecration of a temple. Nothing amiss there. Playhouse, lumber mill, glassworks and a lighthouse. All reasonable.
Yer right de age of de town be too young to even grow a proper chin of beard. Wit all dat goes around dis place seems that dis Hemlock would have difficult work keeping peace in da town so far from Magnimar. Any problems ever emerge?
"Other than the unpleasantness of a few years back, nothing that any other town of similar size might have. Sailors have a few too many, lovers quarrel, deals go bad, tempers flare here, just like as anywhere else, but Hemlock and his guardsmen seem well-enough suited to handle it."
She tilts her head eastward.
"Goblins in the woods east, more in the swamp south; enough to make one travel careful and sensible. Road's reasonably safe to Magnimar, less so as ye walk it north."
"Goblins are fine sport, though it is best to watch them from the sky or treetops."
Goblins are curs of de land. A blight to every being that walks on dese lands. Playing with one of dem would likely get ye closer to finding yourself roasting on a spit IF de blasted creatures even knew how to light a fire.
At least it be fine that Hemlock and his men keep those curs away from town...
Onrik face goes blank and you watch as he shuts down. The only expression you find on him are his eyes burning with a hatred that sends a shiver down your body.
Seemingly satisfied, the gnomish woman nods and moves to knock onto the next door as Brunhilda prepares for her departure. Stepping outside she finds a lovely day.
As you move through the town you can see more and more things setting up for the festivities. It takes very little time to find a stall that will sell candy - it stands out with all the younglings crowding around it.
Brunhilda quickly spots Swan in the town centre, knowing that the two people she's surrounded herself with have no doubt become fast friends. It was hard for people to not get on with Swan. Brun waves to catch the Dwarfess' attention, smiling awkwardly. She struts over to introduce herself.
Trap laughs having never faced goblins other than observing them while in the unassuming form of an animal... Though to most people they could be more than a nuisance.... Especially if you live in a town..
Trap spots Bruin....
"Look Swan, Bruin is coming.....hey over here!"
Onrik turns to see the halfling pointing to someone. He looks for a moment and slowly begins to recognize the dwarven warriormaiden as she draws closer.
His whole demeanor changes and he feels an instance of sadness draw upon him.
Hello daughter of de Oakenarm clan. Been some time since I saw ye or any of yer clan. I had figured after I spoke to yer father ye'd be paired with another by now?
Brunhilda noticed the male Dwarf and she felt the knowledge of him lingering somewhere in her memory. The memories began to piece together in her mine's eye. Older than she, he was a travelling warrior of sorts, eager to learn about the communities that existed throughout the Freelands. He had been welcomed into her homeland and her home after he assisted in repelling an Orc attack on a lumber outpost in the Burning Pines forest.
"Ironoath." Brunhilda nodded solemnly after he spoke. His words cut like a barb, as she remembered the world she'd left behind all those seasons ago."I have chosen to adventure for a while. Travel. Like my ancestors before me. I do not know when I will settle but it will not be before this winter, nor the next" she said.
Her words are on the border of being rude, as her mouth is filled with a bitter taste of homesickness. Brun tries to snap herself out of it mentally, and smiles at Swan and the oddball halfling Trap, whom she'd recently met. "I see you have met some of my friends, Ironoath. I trust they're giving you a tour of the town? Might I ask what has brought you to Standpoint this time of year?"
Swan watches in silence, eyes flicking from face to face, and back again, following the threads of conversation as they tangle around her.
As Brun falls silent and awaits Onrik's reply, Swan hands her stout staff to Trap, steps to Brun and wraps her in a hearty embrace - careful to avoid any pointy bits. "We're glad to see you well, Brun. Ingrid's treating you like kin, no doubt?"
Interesting company ye keep Brunhilda. Yer friends were showing me about de town in search of food me believes. De wee one's seems a hungry one and this maid an apt guide for dis quiet town.
Makes me wonder what an Oakenarm be doing dis far out. Seems losing one warrior – may yer soul and axe guard Moradin's forge Gerda – is enough for de clan. Losing another ax can't bring much happiness to yer da?
How long ye be away from yer halls, Brunhilda?
Trap nods to himself thinking that perhaps all dwarves know each other. Or at least know of one who knows of the other.
"Master Onrik, do not misjudge halflings based upon myself, as I was self raised from childhood on a deserted island, only recently have I been returned to the notion of civilization. "
" So you two, three know each other, or of each other?"