"I am his arm, his eye. Everything I do, I do in Abadar's name," Doran states to the young girl, an apathetic look on his face. Even if he noticed her implications, he doesn't seem to care.
Pirknok furrows his brow thoughtfully at Doran's words. "Um... yer tribe's leader only has wun eye?" he asks.
Eli is at first reluctant to join the other 'heroes'. He stands protectively by Marysin. "Let's go home, Marysin..." he whispers, but she shakes her head, and with eyes bright insists they sit at the table. "I did not get my salmon yet, dear." she says.
Sitting, he stays solicitous of Marysin, and protective of her against any thing coming at her, and she is required to bat his hand away as the meal is delivered. She pinches him under the table finally - her sign that she's had enough of his antics. Eli sulks for a few minutes, but slowly he is drawn in by the conversation of the others. "Uh... Eli. Eli Blakewater. I am an Alchemist by trade. This is my wife Marysin. Marysin and I just moved here. You may see some of my work on display at the fireworks tonight." he says. He eyes them appraisingly when they begin introducing themselves, and adds shrewdly at one point, "You all seem like adventuring types. If you even need potions or alchemical goods, please consider me."
"How'd I guess you'd be tangled up in this, little one?" Ventus said with a wry grin, letting himself be led back to the table. However, to his dismay, the talk turned religious almost immediately. Ventus made a point of not talking religion with strangers.
"It's a metaphor Pirknok. The 'Master of the First Vault' is Abadar, god of order and law," Ventus supplied, Abadar had been one of the more popular deities back in Korvosa. His one-time associates in the Korvosan Guard served the Abadar's clergy as well as the city.
Pirknok considers Ventus' words. "So... yer sayin' his god only has wun eye an' wun arm? Don't seem like much uv a god ta me."
The tanned Chelaxian nods to acknowledge Eli and his wife as they approach. Then, Doran nods at Ventus' words, and turns his apathetic look to the dwarf. "I am merely one o' 'is eyes, 'ere t' do 'is will. Just like yer "tribe" 'as many men doin' th' will o' tribe, Abadar 'as many soldiers, missionaries, folks li' 'at."
"Yes, a metaphor." Ysmerelda adds. At Piknok's blank gaze she blushes & continues, "When your ?tribe's? tale-tellers speak of the deeds of your heroes they often describe things in ways that make you feel more intensely, yes?"
"When Doran said he was 'the Eye' of his God, didn't you get a sense than that perhaps his God was watching , personally, right now? Even if only for a little bit?"
"That was what 'Ventus & I meant by metaphor." Looking down a trifle self-consciously, "I'm...
not the best with words, master Albus said I needed to focus on disciplining my temper first..." Turning back to 'Ventus, " was what I meant when I mentioned 'lapses of character' before..."
Seeking a different subject, Ysmerelda looks to Eli. "Oh yes, Marysin's husband! She & I spoke earlier. I don't know about these gentlemen, but I'm...
more a pilgrim, than an Adventurer. You could say this is my first time free from the apron-strings, so-to-speak. Master Albus wanted me to come & witness the re-consecration of the Cathedral & then pay a visit to Windsong on my own before he was willing to consider me 'fully an adult in my own right'..." The change in cadence & speech pattern makes it obvious she is reciting an often repeated directive from memory.
"It's different here than I'm used to, but really lovely. I'm sure the two of you will be quite happy here."
"Actually, the church hierarchy has left me free to find my own path for the most part, serving the role of cleric as needed to a land frequently in need of that profession. While I am certainly willing to aid in and record the events at the cathedral, what drew me here was actually researching an ancient empire. That Old Light is rather intriguing." You get the impression that Ensu is also used to a repeating the first part of his statement quite a lot, as if it is not only well practiced, but also spoken a bit quicker as if to get past it and on to other topics.
Pirknok looks thoughtful. "Hrngh." he grunts.
"Yes, we like the people here, and the sea breezes are so much fresher than... where we used to live." Marysin says, catching herself and not saying where they came from.
Eli feigns not to have heard, instead looking at Pirknok, his expression sharp. "So, how does a Dwarf become a Shoanti tribesman?" he asks.
The dwarf answers quietly. "There's a treaty... un old, old treaty. An' there 'ull allus be dwarves, an' Shoanti."
The time passes quickly (too quickly for some) and soon the dinner hour is upon the festival. Ameiko shoos everyone out of the Dragon and towards the center of town so that you might enjoy the Swallowtail Festival's final celebratory meal.
You all find yourselves in the cathedral square where a number of tables have been set up, heaping with assorted foods and treats. Even though many are still sated from the days' other activities, the mouthwatering aromas help everyone find room for one more plate. It appears these feasting tables are spaced all across Sandpoint in the various open areas.
People are seated, seemingly at random, and strangely enough the six of you end up at a table together.
As the feast gets underway you become aware of a very important festival tradition. It is customary to introduce yourself, formally, to those at your dinner table. All across the square (and at the tables in the streets extending to the next square) people are leaning across their tables to shake the hand of those they’re dining with - both neighbors and total strangers. There are half-joking rumors about some sort of public shaming reserved for those that refuse to participate in the introductions.
Doran decides to start things off, though the look on his face seems to say that he's not particularly interested in the tradition. "Evenin' folks. As som' of ya know, I'm Doran Quickstep, Abadaran bounty hunta'." The tanned man offers a hand to each of the people at the table in turn.
"Adventus Artemidorus, currently unemployed but I'm a fair hand at droving. Came here as hired help for Varisian caravan and ended up stranded. Seems no one wants to leave town until after the festival is well over and they've all sobered up."
"Um... muh name's Pirknok, 'cept et's rilly Grondyn... Grondyn Stonemight."
Pirknok looks around, as if unsure that he's done it correctly.
Ensu repeats his brief introduction for those he has not already met. "I am Ensu, linguist, historian, and field clergyman for Nethys."
Eli looks crestfallen separated from Marysin, and he is distracted when introductions are made, and the others find themselves waiting for him. The momentary silence shocks him back to himself and he says rather hastily, "Ah! Eli Blakewater. That's my name. I am an Alchemist. Moved to Sandpoint recently to set up shop. Some of tonight's fireworks are mine."
"Oh!
I guess that means it's my turn." The teen-aged girl expostulates realizing she is the last at the table. Rubbing her arm shyly, "I'm Ysmerelda,
I'm a paladin for Shelyn..." She murmurs to her clavicle as she avoids your gazes. "I'm...
here to bear witness to the re-consecration & then I'm to attend at Windsong for a time." Ysmerelda finishes her self-introduction in a rush, as though hoping to re-direct attentions elsewhere.
"I like fireworks..." She trails off, looking at Eli.
Almost on cue, a number of fireworks explode in the air above the new cathedral scattering streaks of brilliant color across the nightsky. Those dining at the various tables cheer and applaud at the display, some going so far as to stand so they can focus solely on the entertainment.
Suddenly a shriek, shriller than those created by the fireworks, rises above the sound of the cheering crowd. A moment later a few more cries join them and the assembled tables in the cathedral square grow quiet. From the avenue west, the cries grow louder as a handful of men and women come fleeing with a pack of small monstrous figures on their trail.
The creatures bear crude but sharp weapons (some of which are already dripping with blood).
A cry goes out, "Goblins are flooding the streets! Sandpoint is under attack! Run for your lives!"
Before anyone is fully aware of what is going on, several of the little green cretins surround your table!
Initiative
Eli
Ysmerelda
Ensu
Goblins
Ventus
Doran
Pirknok
Ensu mutters to himself as he takes in the newcomers, "Leave it to the vermin to ruin a perfectly good day," as he quickly utters a few words, after which everyone near him feels more competent, and grabs his longspear from beside him, the only weapon he had with him. Fortunately, he had chosen to wear his armor today, though it had been more to ensure that people fully understood the field nature of his work than because he expected battle.
Lady, I'm sorry, but they attacking a festival.
Seeing their table surrounded Ysmerelda flips backwards off the bench, rolling out of her tumble to stand up swiping at the nearest Goblin.
Eli gasps as the Goblins surround the table, his eyes going to where Marysin was sitting. Not seeing her in the crowd immediately, he panics. He nearly leaps from his seat and runs through the Goblins, but his instincts stop him, faced with armed and hostile foes. He looks at the others at the table - armed and experienced fighters, and calls to them. "I have to get to Marysin!" he shouts at none of them in particular. "Where are the guards? He then looks out at the crowd again, trying to catch sight of his wife, yelling,
"I have to get to Marysin!" he shouts at none of them in particular. "Where are the guards? He then looks out at the crowd again, trying to catch sight of his wife, yelling,
The goblins's faces are dominated by giant toothy grins. Their demonic yet child-like laughter fills the area.
The one Ysmerelda swiped shrieks as his blood spills all over the ground. He responds in kind by hacking at the pale beauty with his tiny cleaver.
Several of the goblins fall on the others.
Three of the little monsters ignore the party and seem more interested in the contents of the feast table. They begin stuffing dirty handfuls of the food into their piranha-like maws.
So many of the little beasts & not just here!
"We must dispatch these quickly!"
"Eli, you'll do Marysin no good dead! They are obviously strongest when they have the advantage of numbers, we need to stay together!"
Pirknok's face distorts in sudden anger at the goblins' interruption. "NO!" he yells into the wide green faces.
Pulling his dagger, he jabs at a set of beady red eyes in front of him.
1d20+3
Through the quickly panicking crowd you spot Marysin, swept up with several others, fleeing away from cathedral square. The way they're headed appears to be free of goblins.
Doran raises his crossbow, a look of iritation on his face as he levels the weapon at one of the goblins. He aims carefully before firing at one of the bulbous-headed humanoids.
Ventus heard the screams but, before he could react, found them surrounded by goblins. He was suddenly thankful that recent events had caused him to not trust the inn he was staying at with his sword and shield and had been carrying them with him all day. Grabbing his shield and pulling his sword from its sheath he spun around in his seat and stood. Mid-movement he felt a blade skitter across the scales on his chest, the ugly weapon still sharp enough to part the leather lapel of his duster.
Ventus stood and responded in kind, bringing his sword down with a sort of brutal efficiency.
Ventus's well-trained attack nails the goblin, nearly severing his small form in half.
One of the goblins spots this and points at the ranger.
"Hey, he owed me money!"
Ensu steps back and attacks one of the goblins on Doran.
"I'm sure you will have the chance to collect soon!" Ysmerelda calls back to the Goblin as her claws rip through the throat of her assailant.
The goblin attacking Ensu gasps wetly when the gnome's spear goes through his gut and Ysme is true to her word and nearly tears her victims throat out.
Both drop to the ground dying.
Eli, seeing the blood start to fly, feels a sense of helplessness start to settle on him, but then he remembers something... the vial of Alchemist's Fire he took off the drunk, it's still in his pocket. Stepping back from the Goblin next to him, his back safe now that Ensu has removed the threat there, Eli draws the vial and hurls it at the Goblins on the table, his intimate knowledge of the volatile substance allowing him to aim it for maximum effect.
The expertly hurled vial smashes into the targeted goblin who immediately crumbles to the ground in a flaming heap.
The adjacent goblin points and laughs at his companion's fiery demise only to realize a moment later that he was splashed with the same flaming substance.
Initiative
Eli
Ysmerelda
Ensu
Goblins
Ventus
Doran
Pirknok
The surviving goblins raise their crude blades and with a shrill cry throw themselves at the party.
One slashes Eli causing a shallow but painful wound.
Ventus steps up onto the bench and then to the table, bringing his sword in at the single goblin untouched by the flames.
Doran steps away from the table, pulling a bolt from his quiver and reloading his weapon. He takes aim again and lets loose with another carefully aimed shot. His face looks almost impassive despite the danger, but if one looks closely, they can tell his jaw is firmly set. I swear, I shoulda seen som'in' like 'is comin'...
Pirknok follows the goblin moving away from him, stabbing again with his dagger.
Eli steps back from the attacking Goblin and draws his dagger, fear plainly painted across his features. He glances behind him to see if Marysin is gone and her path clear of trouble.
He then turns back to the Goblin and tries to fend it off.
Doran and Ventus's attacks miss their nimble targets but Pirknok strikes true, driving the blade of his dagger hilt-deep into the chest of one of the little fiends.
If he is so kind as to bring himself before me I would be ungrateful indeed not to make best possible 'use' of the offer...
As the malicious midget misses, Ysmerelda makes as if to slap him, twice, with open hands, only curling her fingers slightly mid-swing to bring the cruel nails in-line with the Goblin's throat.
Ensu decides to toy with his foe and try out the effectiveness of one of his lesser used abilities. Taking a 5' step back from the goblin, he seems to take up a defensive stance, while in reality what he is doing is creating an invisible cold blast rune in the space between him and the goblin, all while baiting the goblin into stepping into that square.
Ysme's claws slice a vicious wound through her opponent's torso leaving him staggering on his feet.
Refusing to die, the little fiend swipes at the paladin.
...only to promptly fall over.
The goblin opposing Ensu, unaware of what's before him advances...
He howls in pain as the magical rune burns his feet and swipes at the gnome responsible.
The goblin menacing Eli continues to attack swinging his tiny blade in flashing arcs.
The dagger-wielding dwarf yells wordlessly in anger and charges toward the nearest living goblin, stabbing at it as soon as he's in range.
Doran pulls out another bolt to reload his weapon, before taking aim again and letting fly.
Ysme's claws slice a vicious wound through her opponent's torso leaving him staggering on his feet.
Refusing to die, the little fiend swipes at the paladin.
...only to promptly fall over.