Here is the opening of the gameplay thread. I will be posting each person's hook that they've reviewed and also a next generic opening sequence. After that the action is yours.
Already imbued with the walking fever common among her folk, and wanting to learn more, Aziza left the rest of her kin, who were headed north to Riddleport, and turned south to a backwater on the Lost Coast known as Sandpoint. Known for its Glassworks, theater, and good harbor (but not much else) Sandpoint also held a ruined Thassilonian structure known as the “Old Light,” which had long been passed over by the few scholars who still cared about the ancient empire.
Wanting to make her mark as an archaeologist, and perhaps develop her latent arcane skills, Aziza determined to find out all she could about the Old Light. And so her path led her down the Lost Coast Road to the very town itself.
Curious about the heavy traffic on the road into Sandpoint, Aziza stopped to ask a group of colorfully clad Varisian acrobats pulling a small cart, only to find that a dedication ceremony for the new cathedral to Desna was set to begin in Sandpoint the next day.
With a quickening of her heart, she finds herself rounding the last bend and sees the town wall before her. Watching the group of entertainers, craftsmen, farmers and the like enter the gate, she draws herself up to her full 3 feet (with ears) height and starts toward the gate.
The Lost Coast Road had inns strategically placed every 25 miles or so for the weary traveler to rest and recuperate, but Seldon eschewed such places for a night under the stars and the commune with his deity this afforded.
”How many nights had it been looking up into the constellations and reminiscing by the firelight? Too many to count”. He had lost track twenty years ago or more and stopped counting. When you had no particular place to go, time didn’t matter as much, and the getting there seemed less important than the journey itself.
But today he did have somewhere to go: Sandpoint. That new village on the Lost Coast, just a day’s walk from here. The new cathedral was to be dedicated tomorrow and Seldon wanted to be there.
He had walked this road when it was nothing more than a cow path through the tall grass of the moors, and he had seen Sandpoint when it was nothing more than another Varisian campsite. But the stones had been there even then, and he wanted to see them again. The seven Stones of Desna and the stone altar that were the cornerstone of the new Cathedral.
Forty years or so ago, the Chelaxians came to what is now Sandpoint and settled there where the Turandurok River meets the sea. He had watched from a distance as the merchants and traders from the south had scratched out an existence on the sea cliff, never entering the town, always passing by (as he passed by everyplace).
By and by (he forgot just when), his attention shifted to different parts of the vast Varisian wilderness, but a few weeks ago, the word of the new temple had reached him, and now he wanted to see it himself.
Rounding the last bend in the road, he saw the gate in the town wall before him. To his left, he saw the rising spire of the Cathedral and watched as dozens of Varisians, Chelaxians, and even a few barbarian Shoanti entered the town for what promised to be one heck of a festival.
Shouldering his pack, he joined the river of humanity and headed toward the gate.
Not that she minded. Her physical attractiveness was undeniable. A long, lean athletic body, long raven hair and a smile that could light up a room, she used it all to her full advantage. Like moths to a flame, she attracted boys and men and used them for a meal, or a new gown, or the coin lifted from their purse when they were distracted by her company. Such was the life of a Varisian on the road and such it had been since her exile from Korvosa.
That thought raised the bile in her throat and her face flushed. If only she had a chance to get back there again, things would be different this time. Those fancy royal boys, her cousins really, would get their comeuppance. Vengeance, always sweet, was often on her mind these days.
She turned and gave a mischievous wink to the lummox who had taken an interest, setting the hook for tomorrow’s performance. She elbowed her traveling companion, and he went back to chat up the fool and lead him into the net. The gold ring she’d noticed and the fine- crafted bone dagger at his belt would be nice additions to her collection.
Her attention was suddenly taken by a small voice to one side. Standing there was a female gnome dressed all in blue. Miri had seen the fey folk, but had never spoken to one. “Can you tell me what all the traffic on the road is for? I am liable to be crushed with this queue.” Miri stopped a moment to explain of the dedication to Desna and the diminutive beauty nodded, smiling her thanks.
Odd thought Miri, but in Varisia one never knew what might come round the next bend. Speaking of bends, the city lay just ahead, a far off tower right at the water’s edge, a city wall (and guard) standing nearer. Miri brushed her hair out of face, and prepared her most flirtatious smile as she passed the guardsman, who turned his head appreciatively as she passed entering the wall gate. “Got another one” she thought to herself.
He thought about how he came to this place, while he took a swig from the water skin on the workbench. Not long ago, he was helping his father run the family business in Riddleport. Now he was hauling freight in Sandpoint. His life had taken a wrong turn faster than he could blink. Raised in the tough streets of Riddleport, he’d seen his share of deals gone wrong, protection rackets, and even out right piracy, but he weathered it all and helped protect the family business from that shady stuff. Recently though, the Watch was on the prowl for him after a roughneck who took a deserved beating hadn’t gotten up again…ever.
His father had connections in Sandpoint, and when he’d come to town a few days ago and offered to be “muscle” for Titus Scarnetti (a notorious scoundrel, even in Riddleport), this isn’t exactly what he meant. He had no idea he’d be hauling the lumber magnates wares up this Gods-Accursed hill to help build frames for displays at this Festival to some Butterfly Goddess. Not even a proper patron at that.
It’s not that he was afraid of hard work, Gods knew, but when he meant dirty work, he had something else in mind entirely. He’d knocked around Sandpoint for a day or two before hiring on with Scarnetti. He spent his first few nights on the Lowtown docks earning a few coins in ‘prize fights’ with some of the locals. But his mean hands and tolerance for punishment had made most wary of crossing him, and now he had to earn his keep in a more honest fashion. He could only get fights with out-of-towners or fixed bouts the Scarnzi had set up. That orc a few nights back was a good example. Beefy sailor type with more grog than sense. A real beast that one.
Not that the work up here by the church was all bad he thought, admiring the view as a some of the talent from The Pixie’s Kitten sauntered by, teasing the workmen with their scantily clad attire and lewd behavior. They began passing out handbills and blowing kisses to the folk entering the main gate. He also got to see some other, more interesting folks entering the town. Doughty dwarves, tiny Halflings, even a full-blooded elf crossed his field of vision as the crowd started to swarm the city for the festival next day.
“Get back to work, maggot.” The overseer shouted and Barek bent over the pilings and started hauling them up the hill again, as the white worm of pain twisted in his ribs. “Someday soon, I’ll be past all this and make a name for myself in this town,” he thought. “Someday real soon.”
Not even the skin full of ale he’d bought at the last inn put that fire out. He did like his drink, and he could carouse with the best of them. But when it was time to fight, there was no better man on the line. Hearing the rumors that goblins had returned to his native area, Tunder left his apprenticeship and, forsaking the traditional route of the Janderhoffs, he set out to find the measly bastards where they lived and roust them from the Sandpoint environs.
A simple plan for a simple fellow, but now this cursed Festival was getting all in the way of his plans. First what used to be virgin forests, perfect for killing goblins or their bugbears cousins, had been chopped down and turned to farmland. This Lost Coast, well, it was almost civilized. That would never do.
Next, never had he seen some many longshanks lollygagging along a road. With all the noise and tramping about, the bright colors and boisterous songs of the Varisans, any goblin worth his salt would be miles away, probably breaking into all these ninny-hammers’ homes while they were out here prancing around, talking about magical butterflies or some such foolishness.
Just wanting this parade of morons to end, Tunder stood in line to enter the city. He could remember a great inn, the White Deer was it? Just inside the city walls, and now his thirst took hold. Just a few more steps and he’d be inside the gate. Maybe those goblins would wait just one more day.
31 Arodus, Last Day of Summer, 4707 Absalom Reckoning
As one approaches the town of Sandpoint, the footprint of civilization upon the Lost Coast grows more clear. Farmlands in the outlying moors and river valleys grow more numerous and more fishnig vessels are seen in the waters of the Varisian Gulf to the West. The road widens just as it chokes with a motley assortment of Varisians, Shoanti, and Chelaxians headed to the Festival of Desna, and passages over river crossings become accomplished by wooden bridge rather than ford. The Lost Coast Road is nearing Sandpoint!
Sight of Sandpoint is kept hidden by lightly forested hilltops and rocky outcroppings that rise just east of town, but as the final bend is rounded, smoking chimneys and bustling streets greet travlers with open arms. The queue of folks lined up to enter town stretches back well away from the gate.
A low stone wall gives the town a bit of protection, as the road passes through the stone gatehouse, there are two bored looking guards at post, neither of which looks like they'd be much help in a real fight. The guards lean against their blunt spears, yawning, barely noticing, as the procession of festival-goers enters the town in slow single file.
As you approach the gate-house you see, hanging from a bent nail, a signa and a mirror --painted on the sign is the message: "Welcome to Sandpoint! Please stop to see yourself as we see you!"
The elf takes in a deep breath, the first breath of the autumn chill blowing over the Varisian bay, and smiles softly. He peers into the mirror, chuckling at the quaint display, and a pair of deep gray eyes peer back at him, a pair of eyes that give the impression that they're peering right through him and across the horizon beyond. He wears a sand coloured woolen cloak beaten with the dust of the road, and carries an ornate carved quarterstaff and several scrolls under one arm. Slung over his shoulder is a handsome backpack, well-packed with travelling supplies, attatched to which are a four-pointed blade and a small bedroll, and a silver-wrought holy symbol hangs about his neck.
He whistles as he weaves his way through the streets, stopping in front of the cathedral. "Ai elana! Such a sight was well worth the journey." he says, approaching one of the clergymen and embraces him in greeting. "She is magnificent, brother! Congratulations." he says, with a warm smile. Then, deciding introductions are in order, gives a short bow. "I am Seldon, of Crying Leaf. I am most pleased to meet you. May I see inside?"
<Not as... imposing as I'd hoped it would be,> was Aziza's first thought as she approached the slightly dilapidated gatehouse and got her first close view of the town of Sandpoint. <Still, I'm not here for the scenery, and whatever that is cooking smells good.> She sniffed the aroma wafting down from the chimneys; someone somewhere was baking pie... she liked pie... but some of the less pleasant scents from the other travelers passing through the nearby gates caused her to wrinkle her nose and hitch her satchel back into position on her narrow shoulders.
One of the guards lounging by the gate caught sight of her electric-blue hair as she paused, rousing enough from his boredom to elbow his partner, pointing out the new curiosity. Aziza smiled and waved her fingers at the pair, turning her attention back to the flow of people and carts entering the town, <I know this is nothing compared to festival time in Korvosa or Magnimar, but there sure seems to be enough of them for all that... it looks like it's going to be a good party!> Her eyes longingly followed the brewer's dray wending it's own way through the throng... she could use a refreshing drink about now to clear the road dust from her throat. Time to stop lolly-gagging and find a bed for the night before they were all taken.
Turning about-face she almost ran into the sign she'd paused next to without realizing it was there. The message was painted in slightly faded paint, and the silvering on the back of the mirror hanging beneath was beginning to peel back around the edge of the glass, but Aziza still paused to glance at her own reflected image; despite the dust begriming her face, her bright, wide violet eyes stared back at her, framed by loose strands of bright, sky-blue hair which had escaped their ties. The moue of her lips sitting above her sharp chin, and the wrinkle as her nose twitched, were no strangers to her.
Hearing a whispered comment behind her, Aziza spotted the trio of human children crouching in the grass out of the edge of the mirror, using the vantage point of their roadside gallery to goggle at her as she stared at her own reflection. Smiling briefly, Aziza whirled around suddenly towards them, poking her tongue out and waggling her fingers from her ears while blowing a loud raspberry sound. The startled children jerked back slightly in surprise, until she used her gnomish talent for illusion to blow out her cheeks while crossing her eyes and turning her skin bright purple with a cantrip, causing the girl and the two boys to giggle.
Grinning at her latest audience, Aziza waved to them and turned towards the gates, stepping back into the crowd moving past the guards into Sandpoint. She wanted pie and a cool, refreshing drink... and the prospects of finding both very soon seemed excellent!
Barek strains to lift the lumber up to his shoulder. He could carry more weight this way, but either method was going to leave even his arms sore in the morning. And of course, it meant some of that weight was bearing onto his cracked rib. He could only stand the pain for so long until he had to rest, which earned him more shouts from the overseer. I swear, if he spits at me again, I might have to break his face. Of course, he was only lying to himself. Something like that would only earn him a worse punishment from Scarnetti. Not that he understood why the man wanted him hauling lumber. He had thought it would be less respectable work when he was told to show up here.
Barek looks up at the cathedral as he nears the gates again. Maybe this is some sort of penance Iomedae has in store for me for that man in Riddleport. He hadn’t meant to kill him, but the bastard wouldn’t let up. He was known for terrorizing the orphans on the dock and when he had caught the man breaking the fingers of that girl, Barek had to teach him a lesson. He just hadn’t planned on it being the man’s last. Unfortunately, the Watch didn’t care about a little girl, they just cared about the dead body in the street. So here he was.
He passes the little sign once again and he gives it more attention this time. The image reflected back was not pretty. A burly man, dirty and covered in sweat. But more importantly was the look on his face. He looked defeated. It shocked Barek to see that look on his face, but there it was. He ground his teeth and looked away. Something needed to change in his life. He couldn’t keep going on like this.
But for now all he could do was keep carrying this wood up the hill. Passing the guardsmen, he rolls his eyes at how easily distracted they seemed. Getting some ‘special cargo’ past them would be child’s play and he bet several of these people streaming in were doing just that. He took stock of the throngs of people. To his left a little gnome was playing with some children. She seemed to be changing the color of her skin. He chuckled quietly at the unnaturalness of it. Further up, there was an real full elf talking near the cathedral. He hadn’t seen one in years, since that band of elven riders came through Riddleport. A festival brings all kinds, I guess.
He drops his load near the festival stalls and stretches for a second before the pain in side flares up. He doubles over in agony. He might need to get this looked at.
As she passes through the gates into the town, Aziza is tempted by the sight of the inn just beyond to the left of the road, but decides against seeking refreshment there. The many longshanks crowding the entrance would make getting inside problematic for the diminutive little gnome, and she was already a little scared of being trampled by throng. Just ahead, a large human male bearing a balk of lumber forged his way ahead, effortlessly and unknowingly causing others on the road to clear a path for him to avoid being crowned by the thick timber on his shoulder. Stepping in behind him to take advantage of the space, Aziza followed the longshanks, tailing him like a duckling trailing in the protective wake of it's mother's bow wave.
Gawking a little at the newly completed cathedral just beyond, Aziza is too busy looking over the pair of priests talking on its steps, one human and one elf, to pay attention ahead of her, causing the little gnome to bump into the fellow she'd been tailing behind. He'd dropped his load of timber near one of the festival stands being erected, and seemed to be grimacing in pain as he clutched his side. Stepping back she raises her small hand and places it on his arm... "Hey, what's wrong friend? Can I help?" Aziza glances back at the priests on the steps of the cathedral and calls out to them in a soubrette voice, "Oi, there's an injured man over here! We need a healer..."
Barek feels someone run into him and he turns slightly, still hunched over a bit. "Who-? Oh it's you, the gnome. I'll be ok, little one. Just give me a moment." After a couple seconds, he takes a few shallow breaths and slowly straightens up. "Just an old injury. Nothing to be concerned about," he lies.
"Are you here for the festival? We're building some of the stalls for food and wares. There will probably be lots of trinkets on sale and some good drinks too." He smiles at the little gnome.
Seldon turns, trailing off mid sentance. "Perhaps it will have to wait until the festival is through. Well met, my friend." he smiles apologetically to the priest. "Until next we meet."
Seldon walks brusquely toward Barek, bowing his head in greeting before he interjects. "That is no old wound." he says, lifting the Varisians chin, brow furrowed with concern. "Fetch some water, please." he says to Aziza, turning back to the wounded Varisian, hands deftly foiling any attempt to brush him off. "A cracked rib. Inflamed. " he determines, reaching into a small pouch in his belt and pressing a small strip of bark into his hands. "Chew on this. It will ease the pain. As for the fracture, there is something I can do..."
___
Before Barek can object, the elf presses the cold silver of his holy symbol against his bruised rib, muttering a short prayer in elvish as he channels positive energy.
Looking up at the huge human with a reassuring smile, Aziza pipes up, "Well, I'm sort of here for the festival, I guess, but I was already headed this way before I heard about it. And I'm not little, I'm actually quite tall for my height, I'll have you know!" As the elf priest walks over and takes charge of the situation, Aziza gives the injured longshanks another pat on the arm before diving through the legs of the crowd to fetch the water, as requested... "I'll be right back," she calls over her shoulder to the elf and the human in a high, piping voice. Her own waterskin was nearly dry after a day on the dusty roads, but surely one of the nearby traders or performers setting up stalls would have some fresh water to spare.
Tunder waits patiently for the line to move. The young dwarf, tall and well muscled had brown hair streaked with gold. He wore it in a pair of braids. One on either side. His hair was braided into his prodigious sideburns down into his beard which he also wore as two braids that made it to the middle of his hefty chest. Though the dust of the road hides it, Tunder's armor is well maintained, as one would expect a dwarf's armor to be. Likewise his weapon, an axe designed to be particularly effective when used by those with a dwarven frame.
Just inside the town's gate, he comes upon a human, elf, and gnome having a conversation. Tunder, not being nosy moves to go around them, but stops when the human mentions drinks. [b]"Ay there. You look like you could use some aid. If you could direct me to a good place to find some ale, I can carry some of that lumber for you.
Hearing the voice of a dwarf behind her, Aziza skids to a halt before she bounces off the legs of crowd blocking her path. Turning around to face the prodigiously bearded and braided dwarf, she spots the waterskin hanging from it's strap around his shoulders. Waving at the big human, she says, "Um, yes the biggun there was talking about drinks, but he's hurt, and the priest..." Aziza points to the elf wearing the robes of a priest of Desna, "said to fetch some water. My waterskin's nearly empty, but yours looks like it's still half-full. Could you spare him some, please?" She's secretly glad of the interruption, since knowing how clumsy the humans often are, she'd likely get trampled before she got any closer to any of the stalls to ask for water, and the ferocious looking dwarf did just stop and say something about offering aid. Aziza offers the gruff individual her most winsome smile and looks hopeful.
As you enter the town the amazing new structure of the cathederal looms before you. Built from white limestone and glass, instead of the usual wood structure, it towers above the town. It radiates a feeling of awe and beauty to all who survey it, quite a contrast to the wildnerness surroundings outside the wall.
Everywhere is the bustle of activity. Booths being built, stall being stocked with inventory. Scantily clad girls passing out bills for someplace called The Pixie's Kitten. A half orc in a red tabard pushing a cart along behind picking up the discarded waste. It is truly a madhouse.
To your right along the road is what appears to be a well kept tavern, to rearing deer (their forehooves touching, rearing at least 10 ft from the ground) carved from white birch frame the entryway to this place.
A large Shoanti man, his face covered with marks, and wearing the traditional buckskin garb is nailing a sign to the entry. He curses aloud as he slams the hammer against his finger.
@Seldon:On the church steps, you accost a young (everyone's young to you)acolyte who was stringing up butterfly-shaped paper lanterns from the cathedral into the churchyard. He is a bit starteled by your embrace and enthusiastic greeting. He stammers in reply,"I-I-i am B-B-Brother Phineas. B-B-Blessings of the road up-up-upon you." He breathes a little composing himself. "I think you w-w-want to see-e-e Father Zant...". Your sudden interruption and departure to investigate the gnomes cry, leaves him speechless. He shakes his head in wonder, and returns to his work.
@Aziza:The children makes faces back at you, and crack themselves up at your antics. They continue the game until a harried housewife, large with another child, comes along and shuffles them along down the road. It's cler this crowd could be danger to one of your (perfectly normal) stature and getting in the lee shadow of the hulking man carrying timber is a great idea, until he stops short causing you to run square into him. After callig over the elf healer and while discussing some liquid refreshment with the grim dwarf you stop short, in mid-sentence even as you see the hulking structure of the ruined lighthouse directly ahead of you, up the slight incline toward the sea. The Old Light! The tower is certainly dilpidated, but that only makes it more interesting. The setting sun casts a warm light on it's side as you snap back to the discussion at hand.
@Barek:You are surprised when the gnome lass squeals out for a healer, and even more surprised when an elven man comes running up and pushing your hands out of the way, presses a metal object against your wound. YOu start to protest, but the warm soothing feeling of his magic and the nasty taste of the root he stuck in your mouth prevent words from coming. The supervisor of the work detail comes by just at the wrong time. "You, new guy, get your tail back to work. These stalls ain't gonna build themselves. We got a job to do and your lollygaggin' is gonna put us behin' schedool. I ain't takin' your freight with the Boss, you can a'count on that." Once more the spittle from his wide pale lips flies striking you in the face. He pushes past the diminutive gnome and arm bars the elf out of the way before stalking off down the hill to Low Town.
@Tunder:That inn looks like the place you remember hearing about: The White Deer. It looks bustling to the brim with travelers off all stripes crowding the door. You take a few steps that way when you overhear the conversation of the group around you.
Standing in queue waiting to get into the city was proving to be a trial of patience, one the Miri would inevitably fail. She had arrived at the city with a large host of entertainers, and folks looking to sell their wares.
Shooting flirtatious looks at the guards, Miri figured it wouldn't be long before the guard moved her along. Failing that, she began to gauge how easily she could scale the wall if need be.
As she contemplated the wall, she felt something wack her in the back of her legs. Probably some small child, bored and trying to pass the time by playing games. Turning about face and prepared to give a mild scolding, Miri was surprised to see the blue haired gnomish girl again. She was immediately chatting with a sturdy dwarven man who had been standing near to her in-line the whole time.
With a smile and a wink, Mirela interjects "Funny we should run into one another again. Nevertheless, you'll need to be careful my little friend... you never know who you might bump into in a place like this."
Pulling her waterskin from her side, Miri gauges that there is enough to share and continues "In any event, I have some water to spare. I'll join you, since I'm pretty sure that guard over there is gonna let me skip the queue anyway." Looking back again at the guard, she shoots him one last telling wink before following the gnomish girl.
"Oh, well... thanks miss!" Aziza hesitates a bit, confused slightly by the intervention of not only the elf priest, but also the dour looking dwarf and the Varisian vixen now standing there. "That bloke there has some broken bones, and the priest said..." Aziza stops in mind sentence, forgetting what she was about to say, as the random circulation of the bustling crowds suddenly causes the forest of legs in front of her to part, and she sees the jagged-toothed presence of the Old Light towering over the rooftops beyond the square.
<Ahh... it's in better condition than the stories led me to believe... but those foundations! It must have been lots taller when it was built.> Her thoughts are again interrupted by a dirty, overweight and surly longshanks pushing past her and yelling at the injured man behind her. Spinning around she sees the spittle fly and hit the tall man she'd been following. <What a total bastard!.>
"Sorry miss, excuse me a moment." she says to the Varisian. Aziza spins around and swiftly gestures towards the fat man's back, muttering an incantation under her breath, and reaches out with her magic. Before the nasty longshanks has gone another step, the belt struggling to hold up his trousers seems to decide it's no longer worth the fight, coming undone and causing the man's greasy breeches to fall down around his ankles, almost tripping him.
The stumbling and sudden look of dumb incomprehension on the fat longshank's face as he hurriedly reaches down to pull his pants back up is priceless, but he has already lost any dignity he may have had. Aziza starts giggling in a tinkling, girlish laugh. She looks back at the longshanks girl who'd offered the waterskin and smiles. "He's not so tough with his trousers down, is he?"
The stumbling and sudden look of dumb incomprehension on the fat longshank's face as he hurriedly reaches down to pull his pants back up is priceless, but he has already lost any dignity he may have had. Aziza starts giggling in a tinkling, girlish laugh. She looks back at the longshanks girl who'd offered the waterskin and smiles. "He's not so tough with his trousers down, is he?"
Mage hand - I hope it's okay to use it to cause a fat guy's trouser to fall down :)
The foreman nearly trips trying to run and trying to pull his pants back up at the same time and failing miserably at both. The crowd around roars with laughter, as the man disappears down the slope towards the harbor, curses and laughter following all the way.
Behind her Aziza hears a soft voice whisper in her ear in her native tongue:
The rest have seen significantly more of the work foreman than they ever intended and find themselves beset on all sides by the carnival-like atmosphere prevailing in the town.
Coming up the street is a tall Shoanti man flanked step for step by a short energetic Chelian woman with eyeglasses and dark hair. They are looking about here and there pointing and discussing. The man is tall and broad wearing a longsword at this belt and a coat of chain. As they near you, it's apparent he has a badge of some sort on his jerkin.
Barek is surprised by the elf checking his side, but when he finds the injury, pain shoots through his body and the man is helpful to protest when a piece of bark is jammed into his mouth. It's quickly followed by a warmth of healing. Barek lets the bark drop out of his mouth, breathing heavily, but without the pain in his side anymore. "My thanks. You're an elf right? Haven't seen of you in a while.
He straightens up and he can still feel tenderness in his side, but not the outright pain. He looks over to the dwarf having approaches. He points off to the nearby inn. "The White Deer will have ale for you, but nothing of Dwarvish quality. I'll take care of the lumber, don't worry. But if you're still there in the afternoon, I'll join you for a drink. You too, elf, I'll buy you yours in repayment. Double if you had a hand in the foreman's embarrassment too!"
"It seems we've gathered quite a crowd." he says, smiling pleasantly to Mirela and Tunder. "Mae govannen, my friends. I wish you well this Swallowtail." He accepts Mirela's waterskin and presses it insistently toward Barek's lips. Satisfied, he relents somewhat.
"My thanks. You're an elf right? Haven't seen of you in a while.
Seldon lets the Varisian's question hang in the air, giving him a quizzical look and breaking into soft laughter. "I will hold you to that drink." he chuckles. "A pilgrim that refuses the hospitality of strangers is a thirsty one."
"As for your foreman... well..." He smiles knowingly. "That was no elf trick."
"No? Ok, then. Maybe I will see you at the inn later." Tunder moves off to the White Tail to see if he can get a room. Though with all these folks in town he doesn't think it likely, he has to start somewhere.
Aziza looks around quickly to see whomever it was who whispered in her ear; they could only have used a cantrip like Message to do so. <That was in gnomish! Who the heck could that have been?>
"Um, did you see any other gnomes in the crowd?" she asks the Varisian girl still standing next to her. Taking a closer look at her this time, Aziza recognizes her from the group of traveling acrobats she spoke with on the road yesterday. She says something in Varisian:
There's still a forest of legs blocking her view around the cathedral square.
Glancing past the dwarf, who is now walking off, Aziza turns back to the elf and the huge human. Addressing the human, "That was me, I'm afraid. With that bloke's pants. I didn't think that bugger should spit in anyone's face like that. Sorry if I caused a problem for you."
Looking at the elf, Aziza blinks and recognizes his holy symbol, "And you're not just an ordinary priest, are you, friend? Mae govannen to you too." Continuing in Elven:
See looks back down the street and sees the Shoanti man with the badge and longsword, speaking with the Chelish woman, watching as they both point out various stalls and other things in the square. <Maybe they're the trouble the voice was trying to warn me about? The big one looks like a peacekeeper or lawman.>
Aziza takes a moment to inspect the two humans.
To all:
To Aziza and Mirela (if she helps look for gnomes):
Anyone passing under the deer-carved archway of the Inn:
Aziza's cursory examination of the armored man and his female companion is cut short. Just as she starts looking a crew starts moving large planks in between signifcantly restricting her view of them. You could move around to get a better view.
As Tunder approaches the Inn gate, the Shoanti nailing up the sign finshes up and steps back to survey his work. The sign is crudely done. Handpainted in red are the words "NO ROOMS, no exceptions". The man turns and sees the dwarf trundling up alongside. Sighing he says, "There's no vacancy. We are full up of Varisian vagabonds and Chelish theives. Certainly no room for one who just crawled above the surface.". He wipes his hands on his apron and flipping the hammer, he turns back to the Inn.
As Aziza continues to address the others, she will also skip to the side so that she can look around the work crew in front of her, if possible.
Knowledge: Local
Perception
Tunder takes in the details of the inn as he walks up. He sees a human hammering something on a post and is just as he is about to ask about rooms, the man turns and speaks. "Can you tell me of another place I might try, head-bumper? Its been a bit of time since I was last here and so much has changed."
The tatooed man turns around and shouts over the din of a Varisian quartet that has started up. "Might try the Rusty Dragon down in Low Town. It's the only place might still have a room and take your kind. Now excuse me, I have guests to attend to and a right lot of them too." His words are not unkind, but not spoken with any particular delicacy either. He takes a step forward, shoves a small gypsy out of the way and elbows is way through the crowd.
A small group of partygoers has started dancing in the innyard circling rings around where Tunder -- thirsty lonely, and tired-- stands.
Looking surprised at the little gnomish girl, Miri smiles with a wink and responds in her native dialect.
Scanning the area, Miri quickly gives up trying to find whatever it was Aziza was searching for. With a half hearted shrug, the Varisian girl smirks "I'm affraid it's too hectic around here."
Walking past the Shoanti with the sign, Miri rolls her eyes "Vagabonds..."
"Saesa omentien lle, Aziza." he says, smiling. "I am Seldon, of Crying Leaf. I am here for the festival." he says, smiling exuberantly. "My favorite time of the year!"
___
He smiles his farewell to Barek before making his way to the inn. "You have the look of a traveler about you, master dwarf. What brings you to the Lost Coast?" He stops to marvel at the wood-carved statue for a moment before following the dwarf inside...
He sighs as they're turned away, but can't help but laugh at their collective misfortune, and the defeated expression on Tunder's face. "Smile, master dwarf! This is to be a festival, after all!" he says, as he drops his pack and is swept up by the dancers and joins in the festivities, eyes twinkling with delight. He'll grab Aziza by the hand and yank her into the circle, pulling her into a dizzying turn.
When she spots the elderly gnome leading the animal across the churchyard, Aziza will wave and abortively start to head over that way, only to realize that she's not going to be able to get through the crowd without being trampled. Shrugging to herself, she will just have to try and find the elder later, and ask him more about what he meant. The advice from a fellow gnome and elder about integrating into Sandpoint while she was here would be appreciated, and if he was a resident, then maybe he would be able to tell her about the Old Light.
To Miri, she will just say "Don't worry, I spotted the elder... um, I mean the gnome I was looking for."
When the large Shoanti with the badge and sword and the Chelish woman with him don't start coming her way to arrest her for her prank on the foreman, Aziza relaxes slightly, and turns to the big human whom the elf priest Seldon had healed. "My name's Aziza, and I'm sorry that I bumped into you from behind beforehand, but you're so big and everyone else was getting out of your way when you were carrying that lumber, so I followed close behind you from the gate so that I wouldn't get stepped on."
"Tell you what, mister... how about I buy you an ale to apologize for being a nuisance?", Aziza cocks her head towards Miri and Seldon too, "And you folks too." Looking back at the biggun, she concludes, "In return you can show us where the best tavern is, and give us the skinny on which inn we should stay at while we're in town, yes? Since you were working, I'm guessing that you're a local." Once again the little gnome gives the trio a sunny smile; it never hurt to make new friends, after all...
Then Seldon grabs her by the hand suddenly, and she finds herself drawn into the group of swirling dancers. <Help! They're gonna tread on me!> She tries to pull herself free without making a fuss.
Tunder turns from the dancing couples and begins to make his way to the Rusty Dragon.
@Aziza: The gnome gentleman sees your distress on crossing through the traffic. You hear the Message in your ear again:
The official looking pair you see coming stop and are discussing something in the middle of the churchyard, obviously not coming to arrest you. (It's not ALL about you, is it?). The workmen clear the area and you can see them well through the passing crowd. (see pictures in Campaign Tab). Occasionally, guardsmen run up to the pair, and after the man speaks with them, they run off again.
@Aziza and Seldon: As your capering dance ends, the Varisians clap and pat you on the back, welcoming you to the festival. Seeing the elf's dress and symbol they offer him repast at their camp just outside the Innyard where a wagon is parked and a fire being set up for evening meal. "An' bring your wee, friend too. Not sure she was dancin' or fleeing", the mustached musician cries, heading back to the camp full of colorful figures.
@Tunder: As you start to descend the hill past the churchyard, you see approaching from the other direction, the large burly figure of an half-orc. The beast is dressed in a red tabard and cap, and is pushing a rubbish cart in front, spearing discarded trash as he goes. He sees you walking down the slope below the church and grumbles: "Not sure trash like you fits in my bin, dwarf, maybe you'll just carry yourself out of town like now." He lips curl in a laughing sneer.
@Mirela: As you discussed the crowd with the gnome lass, the rest of your group pushes on into the town looking for a place to settle. With their own bedrolls and wagons, the troupe is planning on sleeping under Desna's stars tonight, but since you have no formal affliation, you may seek or make your own accomodations.
Your comment to the Shoanti at the White Deer was lost to his ears with the music and crowd, but his dislike of Varisians was quite obvious.
@Barek:
Tunder prepares his waraxe. "Why don't you try an make me little piggy. It'll be you in that trash barrow right quick."
Barek shouts back to the elf as he sees the man nailing up a sign. "If there's no room there, the Rusty Dragon might suit you. Honestly the beer and the food is probably better, though the White Deer is more popular. I'm staying at the Rusty Dragon right now, so you can find me there later."
When the officials make their way into the area, Barek grabs the lumber and moves aside. He didn't need to come to much attention to the law.
A little terrified by the whirling dance with all the longshanks, Aziza catches her breath, then calls back to the biggun yelling to them about the Rusty Dragon. "Then I guess I'll take your advice, and see you in the taproom there for that ale? And you still haven't given me your name, biggun!"
As the look of surprise on Aziza's face turns to genuine distress, Seldon chuckles apologetically. "Ah! Amin hiraetha." he says. "I'm sure you are quite weary from the road. I apologise. If you'll permit me one more dance I'll accompany you to the inn."
Seldon beams at the Varisian man's offer. "You honour me. That would please me greatly." he says, bowing. "May your ways be green and golden, my friend! Until tonight."
As the next song starts up he approaches Mirela, extending a hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Would you like to join me?"
"Barek, little gnome." He chuckles. "It's nice to meet you, Aziza. Don't worry about bumping into me, I've had far worse bumps!"
@Tunder The half-orc growls in reply , mutters a few words comparing dwarves and bowel movements, and steps out from behind his cart... crossing the street in your general direction. He keeps the garbage picking spear in his hand and his movements are quite threatening.
@Aziza:Unfortunately, they are past the churchyard heading down High Street, and you are at or near the White Deer. Can't see or hear the commotion from your vantage point.
@Barek: You take the load of lumber to the given destination near the partially constructed stage west of the cathedral. Having no other immediate direction, and not seeing your foreman nearby, you can decide right now it's quitting time. The other builders, teamsters etc are all too busy to notice if you go AWOL, but that's up to you. You recognize the official in chain armor as the town Sherrif even if you haven't run up against him in person yet. He's a strapping fellow and likely more than a match in a fight.
@Seldon: The Varisians bow in reply to your blessing and start the music again. If you can't get Mirela to dance with you, there are plenty of other girls milling about the camp (though none so lovely).
Perception
Tunder settles in to accept the charge of the inebriated orc. "Come get some you inbred little monster. You may be half an orc, but you are all ugly."
As the next song starts up he approaches Mirela, extending a hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced. Would you like to join me?"
Pleasantly surprised by Seldon, Miri gives a quick curtsy and extends her hand. "Why of course, I'd be happy to dance with you." After they begin dancing, a sly grin appears on the young Varisian girls face "I'm Mirela by the way, Mirela Malvo."
More interested in talking then dancing, Mirela continues not really watching her steps as carefully as she normally would. "It's not often I get the opportunity to dance with an elf. In fact, this might be my first time."
After the dance, Mirela inquires "Are you staying at the Red Dragon? I've been thinking I'd head there myself; I hear the food and entertainment is quite good there."
"Ah, and a poor partner I must make. It must have been an age since I last danced." the elf says, mistily. "What brings you to Sandpoint, Mirela?" "Yes, I do believe I'll stay at the inn. Perhaps I'll meet you there." he says with a polite bow as the music draws to a close.. "Farewell. Lissenen ar' maska'lalaith tenna' lye omentuva."
Seldon will excuse himself and make his way to the Cathedral again, hoping to introduce himself to Father Zantus and take a look inside.
Aziza will remain for a while watching the dancers and chatting with the Varisians; she's probably more comfortable with Varisians than any other type of longshanks, as she's known their kin all of her life. She'll call out the elven equivalent of 'auf wiedersehen' to Seldon as he leaves for the cathedral. To the Varisian girl he was dancing with, she'll say with a sly grin "So dancing with the elodergim rugosh too, eh? Well, he seems nice, I suppose, and he's definitely more your height!"
"If you're heading to the Rusty Dragon to look for a room too, would you mind if I came with you? It would be handy to have someone with me who can see where she's going over the crowd, and you could tell me about yourself while we're walking, if you care to. Did I hear you tell the elodergim that your name was Mirela?"
Finally, before leaving the dancing and singing group of Varisians, Aziza will call out to them in Varisian and thank them for their hospitality. Using the last few minutes of her Prestidigitation ability for the day, she gestures and sends a small cascade of glittering, colored sparks cascading down over the dancers, musicians and singers. At the same time, using Ghost sound, she accompanies the crude light show with a medley of fey voices calling out farewells in Sylvan and giggling. Bowing to the group, Aziza takes her leave.
@Tunder: The portly orc stumbles his way toward you menancing you with his pokey stick. He lets out a ferocious belch and circling slightly and listing to port, he takes a mighty backhanded swing at your head.
His swing all disjointed and uncoordinated. He stumbles around behind after making the attack, leaving himself upon to a riposte, if you choose it.
He mumbles all the while about pale skins and trash and filthy dwarf beards.
Two passersby notice the commotion and stop to watch. another calls out for the Watch. Others begin to turn and investigate.
@Mirela:After such a fine showing with the Elf, Miri finds she has no shortage of dance partners among the Varisian men. Even a Chelish figure or two line up to take a turn with her. After she is exhausted, Miri takes her leave and departs down the hill with Aziza.
@Aziza: You also are asked to join in the dances, perhaps more as a novelty than you might like. After your tired feet can't take anymore, you send the shower of sparks and sounds over the group and it's answered with a chorus of cheers and approval from the gypsy band.
@Miri and Aziza The sun has set now, and the moon is rising pearl-white over the town. Things are still in high gear in the camps near the church, but as you wander the streets down the hill into low-town, the quiet starts to descend.
Approaching the Rusty Dragon, you see how it got it's name. Atop the third (and highest) story, perched over the edge so as to glare down at those entering, is an enormous iron dragon, now covered with years of rust and corrosion. Inside the Dragon's head, is a torch which, in the dark, makes its eyes glow and shimmer with a fire that is haunting.
As the door opens, the sound of laughter and music erupts from within.
@Seldon Leaving the attractive pair to dance the night away, you wander over to the church and begin to look around. A stage has been erected in front of the main (west) door. As you go up the steps, you find the West door open.
Quietly entering, you see the interior is even more wonderous than the exterior. All open space and light (even as it's fading) from the glass ceilings, the architecture uses a new form of building that doesn't require pillars or columns to support. As such the sanctuary area is quite spacious and grand. It must be an awe-inspiring place in the full sun.
Near the western entrance are two small shrine and altars. Ahead you see the transept splits into 2 other similar naves. In the center, are the stones.
Within an open air courtyard in the center of the transept, lie the seven stones of Desna and a large ornate stone altar. They look just as you remember them from years ago, before the town stood here. How ancient must these items be you wonder? The magical aura seems to almost crackle as you approach and a buzzing sensation tickles your fingertips as you brush the stones.
Looking around further you see each wing of the cathedral holds two shrines, one to each of 6 deities revered here. You recognize Desna's shrine along with Sarenrae's to the East.
As you leave the magic of the stones in the growing moonlight and head to kneel before her shrine, you hear a voice call out in a noise barely above a whisper, but still startling in the silence and dark:" 'oo in the bloody name o' Ab'dar the Jus' do yoo think yoo are, traipin' 'roun' my temple at all hours o' the night? I 'ave a right min' to brain yoo a good 'un."
@Barek:As you take a deep drink of ale offered by the Varisians, you hear a voice cry out to the Sherriff you saw before:"Come quick, your honor, Gorvi's in a fight with a no account dwarf on the High Street. I think they're gonna kill each other.".
You see the Sherriff make a haste departure, loping off at a run before he disappears from view down the hill.
Tunder can't help but grin as he steps inside the orc's swing and jabs with his spiked gauntlet.
Spiked Gauntlet: hatred
To hit to hurt
Barek hauls a few more piles of lumber and helps to setup some of the framing for the stalls when he hears the commotion about Gorvi and a dwarf. Ah, crud. He looks over at the half finished stall. Well, I did my part here. Nobody said I needed to hang around forever.
He looks around for the foreman, making sure the man was at least dealing with something else. Then he quickly follows the Sheriff to see what the commotion is about.
Aziza attempts to engage Mirela in conversation as they walk from the cathedral square down into low-town and towards the Rusty Dragon. She doesn't ask the Varisian acrobat anything untoward, just general questions about where she's from, why she's in Sandpoint, that sort of thing. If the Varisian proves amenable to chatting, then Aziza happily tells Mirela anything she wants to know about herself, with the exception of anything specific about gnomes or their community in the Sanos Forest.
As they approach the Rusty Dragon, Aziza will glance around the street and the other buildings to either side, just to ensure that she has her bearings should she need to find her way back here later. Hitching her satchel back up onto her shoulders, and licking her lips in anticipation of a cup of wine and something to eat, the little gnome pushes open the door and emerges into the taproom. Stopping just inside, Aziza smiles and says, "Blussonjs lu si aull shisu enkur shos riif! Now, what does a girl have to do to get a drink, a meal and a room for the night around here?"
To all entering the Rusty Dragon (eventually): The first thing you notice is the smell. Curry, pepper, and the scent of other exotic spices tickle your nose and make your stomach growl in anticipation of a meal well seasoned and delicious.
Next, the sound. Unlike the White Deer, which is filled with boisterous revelers, this place is calm. The patrons who aren’t alone are engaged in hushed conversation, their discussion obviously private. A female Tien plays a lute and sings a soft foreign melody at the corner stage, which provides the only light in the place.
Looking around, the common room is awash with unmatched tables and chairs. A pall of smoke hangs heavy in the air. A well-polished mahogany bar with a shiny brass rail stands on the left of the door. A heavyset Ulfen man with a patch over an eye, and a large thick scar across his face stands behind the bar, wiping crockery with a towel. Two older Halfling servants, one man and one woman, scurry through the common room slinging plates and re-filling mugs. Stairs leading both up and down stand in the back of the common room.
As you enter, a few of patrons turn curiously, but most remain engaged in their secret dealings or their drinking. The scarred man behind the bar smiles, his lip twisted into a sneer and says in a voice thick with Northman accent:“Velcome to the Rusty Dragon. Vhat ees your pleasure?”