It is early morning in the quaint, seaside community of Sandpoint, a small village on the western edge of Varisia. The sun has just risen; its warm glow marking the first day of autumn. A gentle breeze carries with it the smell of the ocean, a whirl of leaves just beginning to tinge vibrant fall colors, and despite the early hour, the sounds of rejoicing.
It is finally the morning of the Swallowtail Festival. As you all know, this year's celebration is commemorating the loss of the cathedral to the goddess Desna in a fire that also tragically claimed the lives of Father Ezakien Tobyn and his adopted daughter, Nualia, five years ago, and its subsequent grand reconstruction.
You find yourselves in the town square in front of the magnificent basilica where a stage and podium have been erected amidst countless vendors’ tents and tables piled high with delicious pastries and tarts. Sitting and conversing quietly amongst themselves near the rear of the stage is a troupe of local notables.
An attractive woman with short auburn hair takes the podium. A hush falls on the crowd as she begins to speak.
"Greetings, friends! As most of you already know, my name is Kendra Deverin and I proudly serve as mayor of this great town. It is simply wonderful to see so many faces, both fresh and familiar, accompanying us on this fine day. To any first-time visitors in the audience this morning I wish to extend my personal welcome and hopes that you enjoy your stay here in Sandpoint. And to any of you that I see more regularly, thank you for taking time out of your busy lives to enjoy all of the attractions today's festival will have to offer. I think I even see Larz Rovanky has managed to tear himself away from his work at the tannery to join us. And to think that I often joked that I wondered what old Larz would be doing if he hadn't been spending all his time getting his hide tanned." Laughter erupts among the crowd and many eyes turn toward a serious looking man with a sour expression. Kendra pauses to wave at him with a warm smile before continuing. "Every citizen of this town has done their civic duty of keeping this community strong even in times of tragedy and for that you all have my thanks. I wish not to keep you any longer from the festivities. So without further ado, let me introduce someone who readily will. Belor, get up here. Sheriff Hemlock, everybody!"
After a round of applause a rather dour looking Shoanti man wearing an armored coat takes center stage and clears his throat after shaking hands with the mayor.
"Thank you, Mayor. Citizens! Even in the heat of celebration we would do well to remember the sad events that brought this day of merriment to us. And also let us not forget the poor souls that were lost but five years ago. I would like to invite you all to join me in a moment of silence to honor those lost on that fateful night. The sheriff lowers his head and most of the crowd joins him as he whispers prayers to Desna. There is an awkwardly long silence before he begins to speak once more. "In remembering, we don't allow mistakes to repeat themselves. I am of the understanding that there is a bonfire planned for this evening and I urge all of you, especially those with young children, to observe caution during this event. Please enjoy yourselves responsibly and know that my watch will never be more than a moment away." He pauses to briefly scan the crowd. "Cyrdak Drokkus, the proprietor of our local theatre would like a moment of your time before the celebrations get underway."
He gives a curt nod as the following applause is somewhat more muted than what Kendra had received and, unfazed, returns to his seat at the back of the stage, passing an older, brightly dressed man with a well groomed goatee who seems to be thoroughly enjoying the morning. As he reaches the podium he loosens his collar and winks to the crowd.
"Well, Sheriff, I think I speak for us all when I say thank you for that uplifting oratory. Now I know this town has been through some hard times, but just look at what we've accomplished." He flourishes toward the new cathedral. "And I'm telling you, as overseer of fundraising for the project, no expense was spared with this place. Solid stone and completely fireproof. Father Zantus' chamber pot? Solid gold! I kid you not. That is your taxes at work, ladies and gentlemen. Of course it was also financed by some very generous noble families. I think even the church actually chipped in a silver or two! Now that I have your attention I'd like to take the opportunity to invite everyone to come and see the Sandpoint Theatre Group's latest production: The Harpy's Curse, debuting in just two evenings. Our female lead, Avisera the harpy queen, will be played by none other than that famous Magnimarian diva just to my right, Allishanda. Isn't she a thing of beauty, gentlemen?" He raises an eyebrow at some whistles from the audience as he motions to a haughty looking Chelexian dressed in noble's garb who readily poses to be gawked at. "And now, for the moment I know you've all been waiting for, let me hear some applause for the highest of holiness himself, Father Zantus!"
The crowd cheers as Cyrdak motions to a surprisingly young man wearing the ceremonial robes of a priest of Desna. He smiles as he steps forward, noticeably abashed at the reception set up for him. He smiles and motions for the people to calm down, eventually beginning to speak.
"Thank you, Mr. Drokkus. Thank you, Sheriff. Mayor." He nods to each in turn. "Thank you, everyone, for taking me into your hearts and homes and letting me have the pleasure of becoming your new spiritual guide. I'll not bore you with another long speech, since you all appear to be eager to get to the celebrations. So, I officially declare the Swallowtail Festival underway! Please come see us here at noon for the climax of today's activities, the release of the swallowtail butterflies." He is drowned out by cheers before he even finishes the thought.
Within minutes the crowd descends in all directions. Criers call out advertising activities of all sorts. All around you are carnival games waiting to be played, veritable mountains of free food and sweets begging to be eaten, shady folks gathering at Harrow tables piled high with coins, painted up pretty boys and girls of the Pixie's Kitten Brothel wandering about, drinking contests starting despite the early hour, and more.
This being Vikh's first time in Sandpoint, he was looking forward to the festivities. He already smelled a dozen foods he wanted to try, and saw half a dozen swords he wanted to buy. If only he had a little more money...
The shoanti skald barely heard the speeches that were just uttered to the crowd, as he was keeping himself busy trying to find the prettiest Pixie Kitten whore in audience. One thing he did notice was the shoanti sheriff, Belor Hemlock. Vikh studied him closely for tattoos or any other indication of what Quah he was from.
Stuffing the last of his third lemon tart in his mouth when Zantus' speech comes to an end, Vikh deftly moves around the crowd to the sultry strawberry-blonde beauty who was leaning against a lamppost.
"Vikh's the name, and though you're a business woman I want to make your experience as pleasurable as you've ever had. Shall we take a walk and find some...privacy?" the shoanti says with a wink.
Vikh wanted to start this day out right. Best to clear one's mind before moving on to more important matters.
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Rhia finishes transcribing the speeches into her journal. Of course, she had to take some liberties and use a little short hand and if the word was shorter in another language that she knew, she uses that one instead.
At the conclusion of the final speech she blows lightly on the page to help it dry, marks her spot with a pink ribbon and slams the thick, leather bound journal shut. A grin appears on her face and her cheeks redden with tension. "The Society is going to give me a commendation...Hell, do they give commendations?" Rhia pushes the glasses up onto her face as she talks to herself.
She tucks her journal under her arm and puts her pen away to head off in the direction of the food. She'd like to make some sketches of the more exotic dishes.
The odd thin darkhair Chelaxian man wanders aimlessly through the crowd with the occasional smile at a child and a standoffish huff any time someone jostles him.
"Peasant," Zwain mutters as he dusts off his ratty cloak with a gloved hand. He apparently ignores the speeches, until Cyrdak introduces the famous diva.
"Mother of ...," he exclaims as he stands gaping open-mouthed. "She stole my role!"
Immediately, Zwain breaks into an impromptu operatic piece, right there in the crowd, sung in Dwarven and grossly off-key. For those who speak Dwarven, it's a fairly ribald and risque excerpt from a very raunchy comedy.
"Hahaha!"
Near Zwain in the crowd, a large man bellows with laughter. By his dark hair and pale skin most would guess him to be of Chelaxian stock as well. While he may not understand the content of Zwain's performance he is clearly amused by its irreverence.
While many in the surrounding crowd know enough of social niceties to understand that carrying on like so during public speeches is quite rude, Baldric Moore seems quite unaware. One older gentlemen turns to inform him but thinks better of it after catching sight of him. Baldric stands over 6 feet tall and, though his shoulders are not particularly broad, it is clear by his shape that he is a very strong man. Even worse, he is attending the festival in a chainshirt with a polearm in hand and a number of other weapons strapped to his person. The truly observant in the crowd can tell from the mud and dust accumulated on his boots and pants that he has only just arrived in Sandpoint.
When the speeches conclude he heads quickly to the free food stands before the lines form, and grabs himself an assortment sausages and various meats on sticks. As he joyfully works through his hearty breakfast, he makes his way to one of the shady harrow-card tables where a number of people in the brightly colored garb of the native Varisians have gathered.
"Scuză-mă , nu oricare dintre voi știu de nici comercianții care ar putea fi angajarea de securitate pentru casa lor călătorie ?"
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At the musical tone of Varisian Rhia lifts her head from her charcoal sketching and peers at Baldric. She lifts her glasses up so that they're closer to her eyes, it's more a force of habit than anything since she doesn't actually need the glasses.
She pushes up onto her toes to try and look Baldric in the face. "If you're willing to make the trip back to Magnimar--I might be. I'm not much for company, but it's best not to travel alone." Rhia lets out a short laugh, thinks the better of it and pretends to clear her throat.
"I'm not a merchant, but I'm with the Pathfinder Society. Rhiannon Unwin, Lodge Record keeper," she holds her sketchbook to her chest with one arm as she offers her hand for a shake.
Vikh emerges from the seedy inn with a sheen of sweat on his brow. With that over with...on to business...
The skald wanted to make a new name for himself. He was used to a dusty throat and dustier boots, but it was time to enjoy the comforts of town for a while. He enjoyed the anonymity of entering a new place. No one knows your name, the false label of murderer could be left behind...
With the enormous crowds around, he was going to take advantage of the numbers to make his talent known. Even if he stumbled, he simply had be better than the oaf that was just heard singing that obnoxious dwarven tune. He did have to admire the laughs that were garnered however.
It looked to Vikh that the greatest number of people were congregating at the food booths, and thus it looked like a great place to get some attention! He deftly hops onto a table, elevating himself to be seen by many. He pulls out his drum and erupts into a exciting fast-paced rhythm, trying to be showy and entertaining, turning his gaze to many and more while his hands blur in motion.
Though the performance wasn't up to his standard, he also knew the laymen wouldn't notice the subtleties of his mistakes. With the newly-gained rapt attention of the crowd, the skald opens up into a oration of excitement and adventure! Of blood and glory! Of hags and wayward children, of armored knights and fiery dragons! In conclusion he proclaims "I'm here all week! Look for me in your favorite inn!
"Ne pare genul de tipi care conduc securitate ?" A shirtless young man in a red vest and orange pants asks Baldric, stroking his scraggly brown beard.
"Nu," Baldric replies with a chuckle, "arăți ca un fel de oameni care stiu care comercianții sunt scurte pe securtiy ..."
At this two of the other men start laughing while the first begins trying to wave Baldric away. As he turns to leave he nearly crashes into dainty half-elven woman. Through the noise of the crowd he hears Rhiannon's offer. "Work is work," he answers loudly with a broad grin, taking her delicate hand in his large meaty paw, "and coin is coin... if you've got the latter I'm glad to give the former!"
Leading her to a slightly quieter area as rhythmic drumming begins to beat out through the air, he adds, "I'm Baldric. I just came down from Magnimar and would be glad escort you back up. I assume you mean after the festival ends, right? I'd be glad to keep an eye on you during the festival in exchange for room and board if you like, or we can meet in the square when the festival ends... whichever suits you better?" As he speaks his gaze occasionally drifts down to her sketchbook and as he finishes his introduction curiosity gets the better of him; he concludes by asking, "what exactly does a lodge record keeper do?"
Travok had been seated in front of the cathedral for hours already when the beautiful mayor began her speech. He had been up with the sun, eager to take in the sights of the city on this historical day. The opening of a brand new cathedral always sent the good kind of shivers down Travok's back. This was his third, but the first of his own choosing. The dwarf looked more like a haggard warrior than a priest. With a red mohawk and a beard braided into a single intricate braid, dressed in an armored coat of obvious dwarven make. By the looks of it the coat was a few decades old by now and had a few scratches. Likewise was his warhammer and crossbow aged and battered things. He carries a holy symbol to Torag wrapped around the wrist of his massive right hand.
He sat in silence throughout the speeches, but chuckled heartily at the dwarven song that Zwain butchered wonderfully. As the town erupted into a circus of games and merriment Travok spent his time inspecting the cathedral. Taking walks around it, inspecting the masonry up close, touching it, smelling it just like any good dwarf would do. He committed every detail to memory since he couldn't write it down. He cursed himself for forgetting his journal back home in Janderhoff.
Applauding when appropriate, and thoroughly enjoying all that has transpired so far in the day, Satinder walks around the festival, taking in the sights. It had been quite some time since he had been in Sandpoint, over five years in the least, but he was glad to be back. "Wow, it seems like this place has changed so much since I was last here! It's still impressive, not quite like home for sure. I suppose this may be a good time to meet some people, but I need to at least get started on what I came here for..."
Making his way, while asking directions, towards a stand for The Rusty Dragon, Satinder eventually arrives to the scent of food that makes his mouth instantly water. Grabbing himself some food, he downs his meal while still trying to taste it as well before moving on. As he scans the immediate area, he finds his target best described by his brother before he left. Approaching the woman, he does his best to sound confident. "Excuse me, Miss Ameiko? I don't know if you remember him, but my older brother is Kyras Coric. He said that you would be best to speak to about finding out how to assist against the goblin raids in the surrounding areas. Is he correct?"
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Leading her to a slightly quieter area as rhythmic drumming begins to beat out through the air, he adds, "I'm Baldric. I just came down from Magnimar and would be glad escort you back up. I assume you mean after the festival ends, right? I'd be glad to keep an eye on you during the festival in exchange for room and board if you like, or we can meet in the square when the festival ends... whichever suits you better?" As he speaks his gaze occasionally drifts down to her sketchbook and as he finishes his introduction curiosity gets the better of him; he concludes by asking, "what exactly does a lodge record keeper do?"
"I can pick up your food and room for the festival. I think most of the eating here is free for the festival, at least. I don't have to rush back after the festival, but I'd rather get my notes back to the Society," she says.
Rhia glances around as if searching for someone. Then says. "The Pathfinders go out to the lesser known regions of the world and explore and they send things back to their Venture Captains, who in turn send anything of noteworthy importance on to the higher ups and they omit the things that aren't relevant or that are repeated and if they're good enough they make it into the Pathfinder's Chronicles. I kind of get hold of the writing early on before the Venture Captain and others have taken anything out and file the unedited volumes. I read what I can of them. It's kind of the perfect position for me because books."
"Sorry, sometimes I ramble when I'm nervous," she adds.
"Well, little lady, you've nothing to be nervous about now- you've got me looking out for you," Baldric says with a smile.
I can't believe that worked... a free room just for walking around with her, what are they chances that I'll have to protect her from anything here? Well done, Baldric, well done... I think maybe we should find some free ale to celebrate.
"I believe we have a little bit of time still before they release the swallowtails... would you like to head back into the crowd for more food and drumming, or make our way to the cathedral for a tour? Either way, I need to grab a drink on the way."
Ameiko looks up from the table of food in front of her and pushes the hair back from her eyes. "Ah, Kyras. I do remember him. You're his brother, eh?" she says, before being interrupted by a request for a plate. "Well welcome to Sandpoint. You picked the best time to come - unfortunately, I'm a little busy at the moment. If you're interested in helping with the goblins, I suggest you go talk to old Daverin Hosk over there. He can square you away." She points with a sausage-skewered fork towards a stall in the middle of the square, manned by an older, bald human.
As you walk through Sandpoint, there are numerous games and activities vying for your attention and coin. Here are just a few.
The Goblin Toss
Three Goblins have found their way into your house and are tearing the place up! Grab them and toss them into the fireplace before they can destroy everything. This game is a simple bean bag toss setup in the middle of the Sandpoint Market square. A board is setup with lines of three holes. The board is 10 feet from a throw line. The closest hole is the largest and the farthest hole is the smallest. There are buckets of beanbags sewn to look like Goblins by each of the three stations. Each bean bag has a Goblin name printed on it. 1 cp piece to play.
The Devil Hunt
Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil and keep him from menacing the surrounding area? Take a shot and see. This is an archery range setup on the beach down by the Lighthouse. 1 cp piece per play.
The Lighthouse Smash
Who needs a Lighthouse without a light? The old Lighthouse has become an eyesore; let's knock it down so we can use the stone to build something new. This game is set up at the end of Junker's Way next to the Lighthouse. It has a table with nine square stones stacked on it in a pyramid shape. Three on the bottom, two in the middle, and one on top. There is a firing line 20' from the tables. Using the mini-catapult, try to knock down the stack of stones within three shots. 2 cp per play.
Put Away the Pies!
Alma Avertin of Sandpoint Savories is sponsoring a pie-eating contest. See who can eat the most - AND keep them down. 1s to enter.
Zwain finishes his piece and wanders over to the large man who laughed at his performance and the young woman writing in her journal.
"That's Zwain, just like it sounds, except no 'Q'," he states walking up to her, peering at her journal.
"You sir, a fine connoiseur of the arts, I see. Perchance you'll vote for me in the upcoming competition," the scholar peers around the area, "I don't see the voting booths up yet, but I'm certain they'll get started soon now that I've thrown down the gauntlet to that harlot up there," he looks back with a decidedly venomous stare and shakes his fist at the stage where the diva once stood.
"In the mean time, I believe I'll join you on your stroll. No, no ... worry not, it's no bother for me. One of my standing must be seen to mingle with the smallpeople on occasion."
Baldric inspects the odd man for any sign that he might be a threat... spotting what looks to be a spellbook and component pouch he decides this is not a man who can be taken at face value.
He locks eyes with Zwain and, extending his hand to shake, he asks, "Prietene, cum este Varisian ta ?"
With almost no coin to his name, Travok decided to not take part in any of the games himself. He was eager to watch however, and wandered over to the pie eating contest. On the way over he walked slowly, hands behind his back and observed the spectacle of life. Humans were so wonderfully alive. The dwarf stood quietly observing, with the occasional mumble escaping him, "Mhmm, wonderful. Marvellous!Ohoho, impressive!"
He seemed quite content just watching the events, studying them almost.
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"Well, little lady, you've nothing to be nervous about now- you've got me looking out for you," Baldric says with a smile.
I can't believe that worked... a free room just for walking around with her, what are they chances that I'll have to protect her from anything here? Well done, Baldric, well done... I think maybe we should find some free ale to celebrate.
"I believe we have a little bit of time still before they release the swallowtails... would you like to head back into the crowd for more food and drumming, or make our way to the cathedral for a tour? Either way, I need to grab a drink on the way."
"Do you mean like a drink-drink?" Rhia asks. You'd probably have to count me out of that, I don't think I can have a drink. I'm on duty. Plus, I've never actually had a drink. Didn't see the point. But I will walk with you since I'm paying you and all--I've got to be there."
Rhiannon walks with him through the booths, plucking up an ornately topped muffin with a garnish around the small plate that it sits on. She slides her journal back into her satchel and lifts the muffin into the air. "Mmm," she takes a bite not even caring to move the paper and instead trying to eat around it. A bit of the cream ends up at the tip of her nose, but she leaves it and continues to follow Baldric.
Zwain finishes his piece and wanders over to the large man who laughed at his performance and the young woman writing in her journal.
"That's Zwain, just like it sounds, except no 'Q'," he states walking up to her, peering at her journal.
"You sir, a fine connoiseur of the arts, I see. Perchance you'll vote for me in the upcoming competition," the scholar peers around the area, "I don't see the voting booths up yet, but I'm certain they'll get started soon now that I've thrown down the gauntlet to that harlot up there," he looks back with a decidedly venomous stare and shakes his fist at the stage where the diva once stood.
"In the mean time, I believe I'll join you on your stroll. No, no ... worry not, it's no bother for me. One of my standing must be seen to mingle with the smallpeople on occasion."
"O-okay," Rhia's shoulders slump and she takes another invasive bite into the muffin. She was just trying to get used to this socializing thing and now they've gone and added a second person to keep up with.
"I'm Rhia Unwin, Zwain. It's nice to--well to meet you," she starts to shake his hand, but thinks the better of it while she's trying to do away with the muffin.
Vikh climbed down from the table, satisfied that he at least had made a few dozen people smile today. His desire to command the attention of the room must be sated from time to time, much like his warrior's bloodlust. He was glad he came to Sandpoint. It was a good day.
He spent the next hour walking around, seeing the sights, taking in this township. These were a stout folk, but pleasant. Their demeanors bore little resemblance to his people, the Shoanti, who were more concerned with hunting, survival and war than they were about gossip, fancy clothing and overly-large places of worship.
Vikh happened upon the Lighthouse Smash game during his trek. His first inclination was to save his coin but wanting to try his aim, he decided to give it a go!
After his lighthouse smashing, Vikh overheard a raucous crowd growing. To his merriment he saw it was an eating contest. What fun! Then an idea struck him. Here is yet another congregation of excited people. I wonder if I could participate...in my own fashion. With prudent timing he hopped up onto a street side planter to make himself seen, and to amplify the sound of his drum. Vikh waited for a round of pie eating to begin, and burst into performance, trying hard to enhance the atmosphere of expediency and competition.
"Well Zwain, if you wish to demonstrate your magnanimity," Baldric says loudly, leading both of his new associates toward a particularly raucous booth, "why don't you buy us a round?"
As they draw near, a short burly man with nearly half his teeth barks out, "Drinks, g'chur drinks, any kin' o' drinks! Free grog! Only 1 silver fer a special Festival Ale!"
Baldric easily pushes through the crowd and calls out, "barkeep, 2 Festival Ales and a third in a halfling mug if you can!" As the order comes out he grabs the drinks, gestures over his shoulder at Rhia and Zwain and then heads out of the crowd, leaving them to sort out who's treating.
Once they've resolved that and caught up with him he offers Zwain the full mug and Rhia the halfing sized mug. The frothy drink has a delightfully fruity taste and very little of the bitter hoppy flavor that seems so popular in Magnimar these days. "Hmm, a little weak," he remarks offhandedly, "probably for the best, I suppose. Where to now Rrr... " Baldric laughs a little at Rhia's apprehension. "Don't worry, there isn't enough alchohol in that drink to impair a house mouse. Drink up, you'll always remember your first ale at the otherwise forgettable Swallowtail Festival. Now, as I was saying, where would you like to go next, Rhia?"
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Rhiannon takes the small cup and sniffs it, her face crinkles around the nose as the the sour, hoppy smell wafts up her nostrils. She looks at Baldric and then at the others man and then takes a quick sip. "Ugh! Oh that's. That's interesting." She takes another bite of her muffin and chews it part of the way and takes a bigger swig out of the small mug.
"Now, as I was saying, where would you like to go next, Rhia?"
"Go next. Oh there's no need to cater to m. I'm here strictly in an observatory capacity."
When she's finished the first ale she'll go back for another. When she comes back she's drinking from the new mug. "From the awful odor I would have thought it tasted worse. Never really went near pubs because they were rowdy and smelled bad..." she takes a bigger drink now.
"I'm going to have to try more of these."
"Thank you ma'am. I appreciate the help!" Satinder says to the woman before heading off in a different direction. Walking through the lively crowd as everyone around him seems in a care free mood, he keeps a smile on his face. Finally making his way through the crowd, he approaches Hosk as soon as he sees the best chance. "Excuse me, Mr. Hosk? Do you have a moment to spare? I was hoping to offer my assistance towards dealing with the goblin raids in the area and was told that you're the person to speak to about that."
"Well," Baldric starts, absentmindedly wiping cream and foam from Rhia's nose, "if you're here to observe we should probably have a look at that huge new cathedral they've built..."
"I think we should have just enough time to check it out and be back in time for the butterflies," he adds, turning and beginning to walk in that direction.
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"Oh! I hear there's a dedication plaque! I'm going to take a rubbing!" Rhiannon's eyes go wide in a flash and she clenches her fists in front of herself, shaking the mug with the ale until a splash of white foam sloshes over the top. "We have to see the cathedral before there's crowds and before they release the swallowtails!"
As if she suddenly remembers other people and what people are like when she starts to get overly excited she shrinks back. "Sorry."
Baldric raises his eyebrows and opens his eyes wide, "Don't apologze, run- there isn't a moment to waste if we're to beat the crowds!"
He nearly falls over laughing when the naive young scholar bolts off. As quickly as he can gather himself, he takes off after her. Through his laughter he struggles to call out to her, "Wait, I was teasing... you don't really need to run!" As he trots off toward the temple he looks back over his shoulder and shouts, "Thanks for the drink, Zwain, feel free to catch up at the church after you've paid if you like!"
Responding to Baldric , Zwain sniffs as he takes his hand,
He follows the two throughout the afternoon, taking note of mundane objects and even haggling over a couple things that he doesn't buy, leaving the vendor in a state of exasperation as he departs decrying them as cheats and frauds.
When Baldric mentions the cathedral, Zwain's face drops, "Ah, disappointing. I thought they were turning that beautiful building into an opera house. You think they may change their minds? Slip them a couple coppers on the side, eh?" He asks hopefully.
The wizard follows slowly, shouting back over his head at the bartender, "Worry not good friend, I'll apprehend those ruffians who drank and ran! Their lot is not welcome around here, I'll ensure they know that!" He emphasizes his point by waving the half-finished mug of ale in his hand.
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When they reach the cathedral top priority for Rhiannon is getting that rubbing from the dedication plaque. She lays a sheet of coarse paper across the glossy text, aligning it perfectly before using a stubby piece of charcoal to capture the words. Rhia tucks this paper into the front of her journal with a silky cloth over it to protect it.
Rhiannon stands back in the center of the entrance archway looking up at the vaulted space between the stone steps and the front door. "Completely made of stone," she notes out loud. "I suppose that this is to ensure that the past doesn't repeat itself?"
"Notice the rustication with the grooves in the walls and the rough stone," She says tracing a path with her eyes over the curves of the ceiling down to the walls and to where they meet the floor.
She runs a hand between the stones. "It's like they don't want the people to remember this is new--they don't want them thinking about the people that died inside or the tragedy that took place."
While Vikh was unsatisfied with the quality of his performances this day, Am I getting stage fright? What's wrong you ol' boy?! he still enjoyed the applause and praise received from the commonfolk.
He hung around the pie eating contest for quite some time. Watching these people stuff their face was remarkably entertaining. Watching some of them retch it up moment later was even more so.
As much fun as this is, I do want to see those birds being released near that cathedral. I better head back over there.
Keeping an eye out for beautiful wenches, pickpockets, town guards, and anything else peculiar to town living, Vikh made his way through the dusty streets back to the cathedral square. The steady hum and thrum of the growing crowd was eerie to the nomadic shoanti. Never in his life had he seen so many people together in one place.
Near the front of the cathedral he noticed something rather odd-- there was a small half-elf woman seemingly vandalizing the structure with a piece of charcoal. Vikh looked around to see the reactions of anyone nearby, but saw nothing but smiles and typical expressions not indicative of alarm.
Confusion was evident on his face. Moving closer, he calls out to her as he approaches,
"I am curious, what are you doing?" It was then he noticed the paper underneath the charcoal stick, and the near-perfect copy of the plaque. The realization answered his own question. "Remarkable! I'll have to remember that little trick."
She wasn't bad looking either. He was about to open into a flirt when he noticed a tall wiry man approaching the girl, who comes to stand at her side. To hell with the flirting... it was time to make an acquaintance or two.
Bowing with a flourish, deliberately showing his large sword, spear and shield, the skald says, "Well met and good greetings. I am called Vikh. Vikh the Bloodboiler! Is this your first time to Sandpoint as well?"
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"Oh, hi. I didn't know if I wasn't supposed to be doing this or not. I'm here on Society business. Rhiannon Unwin. I've actually been here before when I was a little girl. I visited the old cathedral with my Gran," Rhiannon says as she takes a drink from her canteen.
Rhia pushes her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. "We're just trying to beat the crowds to seeing the handiwork on the building."
She glances down at her feet and mutters. "Wouldn't want to miss the butterflies."
"Ha! Well said, Rhiannon," the tall man says leaning on his glaive, "we were hurrying to beat the crowds."
Upon closer inspection, he is trim but surprisingly well muscled, though something of the way he carries himself prevents him from seeming intimidating. Nonetheless, he seems like the kind of man you'd want on your side in a fight- with his armor and assortment of weapons all appearing well used and well maintained. "Baldric Moore" he says, extending a strong hand to the barbarian, "and, no... I'm from Magnimar and I've come down here for a festival or two before. What brings..."
Baldric trails off, suddenly distracted... "σκατά ."
"We may, in fact, have made too much haste. Rhia, grab 3 silver and follow me," he says more gruffly than he means to as he begins heading back where they came from, "I think our beneficent but confused acquaintance may very shortly find himself in hot water if we don't help him." As Rhia and Vikh look past Baldric toward his destination they can see the burly barkeep speaking with one of the townsfolk charged with providing extra security for the festival and pointing towards Zwain as he leisurely strolls... somewhere... possibly the cathedral.
Not waiting for his new found companions, Baldric hustles back to the beer stand. As he passes Zwain on the way he calls out, "Hey, they're waiting for your performance on the cathedral stairs. Don't leave them waiting too long."
When he reaches the stand, he can be seen pulling a few coins from a coin pouch and handing them to the barkeep. As he talks with the barkeep and the auxiliary watchmen he points at Zwain and then gestures at his head the way a child might when calling someone crazy. The two men nod and Baldric turns back toward the temple a few coins lighter but apparently having smoothed everything out.
Zwain, oblivious to the shenanigans behind him, waves absent-mindedly at Baldric on his way to the cathedral. He stops when he arrives, forgetting instantly why he was heading there as he sees the large Shoanti man talking with Rhia, catching the end of his intro.
"Bloodboiler, really? Do you do that? For what reason, I must know. Art, ceremony .... food? Seems fascinating, really. Normally a euphemism for anger here, but I get the sense you may have taken the literal side? Once, maybe twice?" the inquisitive wizard peppers the skald with questions.
"I myself am definitely on my first visit, only been here 12 years," he states matter of factly in answer to the skald's question.
"Just haven't seen everything I need to, here, yet. When I have, my visit will be over and I shall return home. Wherever that may be."
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Baldric chuckles as he heads back to the growing group of misfits talking on the cathedral steps.
Well, that was amusing but I'd better be a bit more professional. That could have turned out really poorly if the watch had confronted Zwain and he reacted the wrong way. Plus, technically, I suppose I am on a job...
By the time he steps back up next to Rhia he is composed and behaving more formally, though he still smirks at her new found enthusiasm for fruity ales. "Rhia, if you'd like, we could probably find a priest to provide some additional information for you?"
One of Vikh's favorite pastimes was good conversation and meeting new people. This was turning out to be an opportunity for both it seemed.
"A 12 year visit? This place must have even more to offer than I expected.
Boiling the blood...that's simply what I do. Not literally, though I confess a certain curiosity for such power! No, what I do is stir the spirit with the power of song, bringing a warrior's heart to the height of its potential! Music is a magic all its own. I harness this enigmatic energy and harness it. I've been told that the sensation feels like boiling blood." Vikh shrugs innocently.
"But I have seen enough battle in my time, at least for now. I was hoping for a respite in this lovely township. Apparently I arrived on a day of significance. The gods are smiling on me!"
He points to the half-elf. "So you're Rhiannon." He then looks to human men flanking her. "And might I have the pleasure of your names?" Vikh extends his calloused hand for a shake.
"As I was saying before I had to run off, I am Baldric Moore, Miss Unwin's security for the festival," the large man states taking the calloused hand into his own. Baldric's hand is softer, obviously not the hand of a laborer, but it is hard in the webbing of the thumb and on the ridge where his fingers meet his palm, as is common among those who have spent long hours training with swords and axes, and his grip is firm.
"I think, perhaps, we should talk as we walk... the sun is higher than I realized and we may miss the butterflies if we don't head that way now."
Zwain, having been distracted by the commemoration plaque, mubles out "Zwain ... frontwards and backwards. Have a last name too, but I don't know what it is," as he studies the newly placed piece with great scrutiny.
After watching other people eat pies for far too long, Travok felt it was time to move on. He also felt a little bit disgusted. You can only watch people gorge themselves on food for so long before you realize how debauched it all seems, he thought to himself. He wandered around for a while longer before spotting a group of curious-looking humans inspecting the cathedral. The butterfly-event should only be moments away so he decided to pass the time with some small-talk.
He approached the small group composed of two humans and a half-elf he realized as he got closer, inspecting the memorial plaque. "It's a thing of beauty ain't it? Stone hauled for miles and miles, placed with flawless care and attention to detail. I'd give a wager this thing will survive a dozen fires, maybe an earthquake or two. It's no match for the wonders of Janderhoff mind you, but after seeing this I'd say you humans are learning a thing or two about stonework after all. I'm looking forward to coming back in a few hundred years, have a look at it then and see just how well it's kept up with time." He approached the wall as he spoke, running a hand along its surface to underline his points.
Baldric shifts slightly to one side revealing to the dwarf a third human- a skinny, wizardy looking fellow standing between him and the bearded Shoanti man. "Greetings, dwarf," he replies, "were you a part of the construction team? My associate here is most curious about the details of its construction." He gestures at Rhia as he concludes and then steps aside so that she has an unobstructed view of the dwarf.
As the dwarf steps forward he sizes him up and, seeing the armored coat and 'seasoned' warhammer, he remains nearby his charge.
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"Earth quakes and a dozen fires?" She glances back up at the building. "Let's hope that it doesn't ever come to that. I think this town has been through enough."
Rhia takes a drink from her canteen. "There's been murmurs all over the place about the fire. People seem to talk about it like it happened recently. It's still present in their minds."
"I really don't need the details, my reports usually come back as overly detailed and descriptive. I've got five pages back and front about just the festival preparations!"
"Well, I stand corrected," Baldric says, shaking his head but smiling. Then he extends his hand to the dwarf and adds, "Baldric Moore, sword-for-hire, and you are?"
"Oh no I am no mason, but I do know quite a bit about it of course, masonry I mean. Any Dwarf worth his gravel does. Armorsmithing is my trade." Travok reaches his hand up and shakes Baldric's with a wide smile on his face. "I'm Travok. Travok of the Shortstrider clan. I'm here for the opening of the cathedral. I've quite the interest in the religious and this multi-deity thing they are doing here is very interesting. I suspect it'l catch on right quick out here in human lands." His speech is slow but not un-intelligent so, as if he weighs the taste of each word as it leaves his mouth.
"The Heidmarch Lodge? I've read as many of the works from there as I've been able to come across. You Pathfinders do fine, fine work miss Unwin. Are you here on their behalf?
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"Sort of. They sent me out to mark this historic event. I have to admit this is all very exciting, so I had no complaints about coming, but I haven't actually done anything that was official Pathfinder quality work. I'm mostly just a posh librarian. Don't really get out of the office as much as I'd like. I just read things."
Rhiannon tries for another swig of ale from her canteen, but finds it barren. She flips it upside down with the cap off and not even the smallest drop calls free. "S@+!," she mutters.
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