Erastus 22nd, 4710
"You may kiss the bride."
The entire chapel erupts in a fury of cheers for Syra and Gregan Orlovsky, now happily wedded. The doors open to one of the brightest, warmest summer days of the year. You could not ask for better weather. While you make your way out of the chapel, ushers are directing everyone to the stage erected next to the chapel.
Peitros, standing proud on stage in his expensive garb, gathers everyone's attention.
"Greetings, friends! I am so proud of my daughter on her day and may the Gods bless everyone for such beautiful weather! It is a pleasure to see so many faces, both fresh and familiar, joining us on this fine day. I particularly want to wish good luck to all the expeditions into the River Kingdoms that will help Brevoy! I'd like to thank the Iron Wraiths and wish them the best of luck as they venture into the Glenborn Uplands to pacify the region and make diplomatic contact with Pitax, the upcoming swordlord Maegar Varn and his Steel Banshees as they make peace with the Nomen Centaurs, the Copper Claws of the Fanged Legion for their upcoming escort mission into the Slough to ensure the saftey of trade routes in that area and lastly to Ser Bregan and to all his comrades of Mithral Falcons as they pacify Glenborne and rid us of bandits! I look forward to praising you all this afternoon. To any first-time visitors in the audience this morning, I wish to offer my personal welcome and I truly hope that you enjoy your stay here at my estate and expense! 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 that 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.
"I will not keep you all from the planned reception and feast so without further ado, let me introduce someone who readily will. Belor, get up here. Captain Hemlock, everybody!"
After a round of applause, a rather dour looking Chelish man wearing an armored coat takes center stage and clears his throat after shaking hands with the mayor.
"Thank you, Peitros. Citizens! Even in the heat of celebration we would do well to remember that which brought this day of merriment to us. Syra and Gregan, we wish you all the best in this world today and forever." After a round of applause, he continues."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. "Now I would like to welcome the Father to the stage. Thank you."
He gives a 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, stern looking gentlemen with a well-groomed goatee. As he reaches the podium he loosens his collar and winks to the crowd.
"Thank you, Captian Hemlock. Thank you, Peitros." He nods to each in turn. [b]"For those who do not know me, I am Father Zanthus and priest of Desna. Thank you, everyone, for taking me into your hearts and homes and letting me have the pleasure of presiding over the wedding ceremony. I'll not bore you anymore with another long speech, since you all appear to be eager to get to the celebrations. So, I officially declare the festivities underway! Enjoy!" He is drowned out by cheers before he even finishes the thought.
Within several minutes the crowd disperses 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, and drinking contests starting despite the early hour, and more.
archery game,
Ol' rusty in the Rusty Dragon (Strength competition),
Ring the Bell (Strength competition),
ring toss,
egg toss competition, (2 person event)
sack race, (3 person event)
and long jump.
You do not have to play all of them. Also, if you have a good idea for a game that it is not on the list but you'd like to play. let me know.
Ser Bregan stood, fully armored and armed, adding himself to the Orlovsky house guard during the wedding.
The guards don't seem as upset by my knighting as other knights - perhaps it gives them a sense that they too could become knights if they wanted to?
Bregan wondered if any of them would ever want to.
As the ceremony ended and the reception began, he let himself feel a little more relaxed now that the official ceremony was over. It was hot business in armor on a warm day.
Bregan didn't feel much in the mood for games, his thoughts were on the uninvited duty that followed. He didn't plan on dying in Glenborne - less of concern in failing his duty, but more of concern for his own hide.
He looked about for those he would be able to question about the bandit-riddled lands, or those that were promised to accompany him.
Perhaps that bird-man is about from last night? He claimed to write scrolls, perhaps he also knew cartography...
"Mom! Look! Please, can I hear my fortune?"
"It's just a sideshow. Besides, Varisians are all thieves."
"Oh, mom, look, she's blind, and she doesn't look Varisian."
"Well, okay, just this once."
Mother and daughter entered the open-air tent, a welcoming space, open, not enclosed and private. Seated at a small table was a young woman, brunette and pale-skinned, dressed in a pure white linen frock, with a bright blue sash across her waist and a similar sash drawn over her eyes. A large raven perched on her shoulder, and the pointed tips of her ears peeked through her hair just above her blindfold.
"Welcome," she said. "Please, sit, and shuffle."
"The Harrow!" The mother exclaimed. "You aren't Varisian?" The young girl paid her mother no mind as she gladly took the deck into her small hands and shuffled the cards, fascinated by all the pictures.
"No, elfin," the fortune-teller replied. She lightly let her hand out toward the girl, unseeingly. "And return the deck to me."
The girl did so, and added, "Can I pet your bird?"
The raven hopped off the seeress's shoulder onto the table, and the girl caressed his head. "Be careful!" The mother called. Yet the raven behaved, and returned to his place at his master's shoulder, burying his head into her hair.
The reading began. Both mother and daughter were amazed as the elfwoman correctly named each card as it was turned over. The story told was exciting! The daughter, she would grow up strong, marry a protective soldier, and see the inside of a castle! The mother asked how she was able to see the cards, and the cartomancer explained that she was able to read the magic in the air, because of her elfin heritage. The girl, giddy with excitement for the future, hopped up and ran out, the mother dropping a silver on the table for the reading. The raven picked up the coin as mother and daughter headed onward.
Once they had moved out of earshot, Tzerny dropped the coin into a pouch, adding, "Told you they'd love the blind seeress routine."
Valeska sighed. "Thanks for whispering the cards into my ear. But I still feel at a loss, here, blind and all." She felt down at a small gathered bunch of dried wildflowers at her waist. They were still intact, she noted. Her Ward Hex on Gregan Orlovsky was still intact.
"Quiet," Tzerny commanded, "Your next sucker's here."
It was hard to fight the urge to sit on Rufus's neck; being small had its disadvantages, and Brevan marriages were something different. Tiomir had found a spot close to the edge of the aisle, though, and seen enough to raise his voice and hands in cheer.
Getting out to the chapel was easy enough; Tiomir crawled on top of Rufus's back, and the Eidolon barged through the thicket of men and women. The summer heat was enjoyable, though the sweat started beading too quickly. Maybe I shouldn't have worn my scholarly robes...
"Reckon we could find some food?" Rufus growls softly, treading around the tables. Tiomir is hugging the royal dog around the neck.
"Yes, I concur. Pardon me, good ser," he calls to the armoured man, whose name he had only caught to be Stone, as he rises up to a sitting position. "Do you happen to know where we could find some food? Or Lady Syra?"
Bregan looked down distractedly at the gnome and red-gold furred dog.
While looking for the others, he hadn't really paid attention to where Syra or even Gregor had disappeared to. This was Bregan's first wedding, but he assumed after the ceremony, they would be off in private doing something with their direct family.
Or perhaps they await their parents as they sign some declaration of fealty against the Surtovas?
"Haven't seen the bride," he comments briefly.
Sniffing the air and the dizzying array of scents of cooked meats and baked breads, he simply gestures about as if that should be sufficient to answer the gnome's question about food.
That's the same dog from The Rusty Dragon... a strange one now that I see it in the sunlight. It's limbs are a bit disproportionate to a wolf or a typical dog.
The knight appears to be staring at Rufus, his eyes narrowed in study.
Rufus peers at the man with great, golden eyes, his great brows lowered in half a frown. "You got a hawk's eyes," he grunts, leaning forward to sniff the man. "And the scent of a man borne of toil."
Before the man (or Tiomir) can deign a reply, Rufus wanders in direction of the smell of meat and bread. "Rufus?"
"Am hungry. If the man cares, he'll catch up."
Tiomir sighs and ruffles the Eidolon between the ears, looking for the source of the smell.
Ravens spent much of the ceremony crying. Not because how beautiful the bride looked, or how handsome the groom was, or at the stunning and rapt attention from the assorted nobility: it was because his beloved (although unknown to her and mostly likely unrequited) was marrying another.
Luckily, Ravens was able to keep from making a fool of himself...he was that clever at least to hide among the upper pillars while watching the ceremony. Not one up here but the few pigeons who had snuck under the rafters. Well pigeons and one crying silly goof.
**sniff**
Ravens wipes his nose and dries his eyes as the assembled nobility and regular folk quickly pile out of the chapel. He waits until everyone has left and he is presentable before making his way to the festival.
Syra! You should have been with me.
Ravens has his best cream colored tunic on today, a purple cloak on his back. His black hair cut short (Syra once remarked that she liked short hair when talking about another boy.) and he wore the breeches that matched the color of Syra's hair.
* * *
Entering the festival grounds, Ravens keeps away from large crowds (they might be hiding the bride therein) and from people wearing too much white (they reminded him of the bride) and pokes his way along the different games offered.
It might be that I'll try my luck at some games.
Needing a pick me up, Ravens looks for something he could succeed at: greased pig catch? sheep herding? or the like.
*sniff*
Bregan watches as the gnome and "dog" head off towards the food.
That was the dog talking to me, right? Why did it seem like it was making decisions for the gnome, too?
The knight stood in contemplation, trying to wrap his mind around what he just saw. He watched as the dog-like creature seemed to debate which food it might be interested in.
Is it a magical creature? Or just well-trained?
Bregan knew he needed to spend more time with his horse, but since he "saved" the groom, he hadn't been given a free moment of his own time.
His stomach rumbled. He had skipped breakfast, again.
I suppose I have some time for food.
He followed his nose after Tiomir and Rufus to the nearest stall. Spotting Garrick Snow, he waved the man over to discuss what he might know of Glenborne.
Win-Condition: You catch the greased pig.
Game style: 4 person free-for-all
Rules: This is a very simple game. All I need from you is initiative and a CMB roll if you are trying to grapple it down. You and your 3 competitors enter a 40x40ft muddy pen. At the blow of a whistle, the greased piglet is released. Initiative order determines who gets to attempt to grab the pig first. Each failed grapple reduces the amount of grease on the pig. When the grease is worn off completely a new coat is applied. The first person to catch it is the winner. Spellcasting is prohibited in this event because catching a greased pig is an honorable past-time of Brevoy and gentlemen's sport. Women catch bouquets while the men catch greased pigs!
A curious little fellow with fine clothes, a tophat and a monacle approaches Valeska. "So harrower, I hear your type put on quite the card show..." he says in a rather snobby rich accent. He checks his pocketwatch. "My name is Vernutt Parooh and it appears I have some time.. why don't you deal me my fate, hmm?" The gnome watches you closely and seems as snobby as he is skeptical of your abilities.
You can easily find something to hold you over until lunchtime. Although there are some stalls selling pretzles and snacks, the grills are running full-steam as various spots around the keep are preparring their best dish for the tasting competition.
Not sure where this will lead, but not quite willing to make a scene, Valeska hands the deck out for the gnome--or whoever. "Here you are, then. Shuffle."
Tzerny looks the character over with a jaundiced eye.
The man doesn't reach for your deck, Valeska. Without losing eye contact, he moves his hands and the deck moves on its own, shuffling several times in the air before returning to your possession.
"Yes." He smiles. "That should do, just fine. Pretty good wedding, don't you think?"
"Everyone seems to like it, yes."
Tzerny tries to follow the cards, to make sure that none are missing. Valeska follows by feeling the size of her deck. She then lays the cards down before her.
Tzerny's Perception:
Valeska's Perception:
Profession:
Don't know if you've got some trick up your sleeve here, so let me know how you'd like to run the reading.
The reading looks bad, though!
A special guest singer had been invited to perform at the wedding on behalf of the Orlovsky's. She was a tall very attractive bronze skinned elven woman with long beaded strands of silky black hair. She wore a lot of jewelry and the finest, flattering nobility robes she could afford. The Orlovsky's introduced her as the famous Areanna Dalante, a renown singer all across the land. The Orlovsky's treated Areanna as a member of the family. She considered the Orlovsky's to be her second parents since they took her in after she had left home. Just for them and their kin, She put on her best performance yet, singing her heart out with the greatest passion.
Once things finally started to wind down and people were mingling, Areanna made her way down to the gathering. She made her way to find Gregan. Once she minds him, she will approach. "I am so glad you found such a fine woman for your bride Gregan. I'm sure you will both live romantic lives together, for better or for worse, until death do you part. I hope your lives are long and fruitful. I truly wish you the best of luck. You've been like a bother to me and I owe you for that." With that, Areanna will hug Gregan and wish him well once more.
Ravens makes a mental note to return to the greased pig contest, but the rumbling in his stomach gives rise to his overt need for food.
Nothing like food and drink to take my mind off things.
Ravens will make his way for a mug of ale and then move to find hard food.
* * *
Ravens barely notices (or recognizes) the man waving at him (it was a late night and drinks were drunk).
"Do I know you?" Ravens says to the man before really looking at him and recognizing his knightship from the ceremony.
"Oh, excuse me, M'lord. I thought you were waving at me. Forgive my confusion and interruption." Ravens bows politely and slowly moves away.
Damn nobility, hiding in plain sight. I hope I didn't just screw myself right up there.
"Food!"
Tiomir spoke a little louder than he expected, but once the food was in view the stomach had done the talking. He urged Rufus on, the eidolon complying without question. Within a minute he had grabbed a hold of a pair of legs of roasted boar, one which he gave to Rufus.
"Ah, Ser Stone, you were hungry as well?"
Tiomir waves at the knight who followed, taking a fierce bite off of the leg. Rufus is cleaning the bone that remains, having devoured the flesh without hesitation. "This roasted boar is astonishing, you ought to try some!"
Rufus only peers at the knight - though not with contempt...
The groom dressed in fine gold and black hugs Areanna strongly. "You are almost a sister to me. I cannot thank you enough. Now go get out there away from your mom and have fun! Who knows!?! You may meet your own love of your life!" He looks to his beautiful bride and they kiss. Both smiling at each other.
Huzzah! I have many a trick! For future reference, much like natural 20s, when you roll either very well or very poorly feel free to narrate how you think events transpired. Of course, you may leave me to my own diabolical descriptions if you so prefer. >:3
Valeska accidentally drops several cards to the ground while shuffling. Besides her mucked up shuffling for the man, she reads the right cards, but the man seems more interested in you and your raven. "You didn't too that bad for a blind fortune-teller, I suppose. Now your bird... what is its' name?"
Bregan eyed the roasted boar, noting the large number of insects buzzing around the vendor.
I've eaten far worse in my time... is my knighthood making me suddenly wary of the cleanliness peasant food? Have I already began to succumb to a shift in my tastes?
Bregan frowned, not at the gnome, but at himself. Realizing the gnome might mistake his expression, he quickly donned a smile.
"Yes, I realized I haven't eaten since yesterday."
The knight held up a finger and pointed at the boar. It did smell good.
He glanced backward to see if Ravens noticed his beckoning.
Areanna bids Gregan farewell and immediately makes her way to the Archery Range. "It is time to show these good people why I am able to boast as the best Archer in the land." Areanna enters the Archery Game. As she readies her bow she begins to sing of her great skill as she aims.
Shot
Ravens barely notices (or recognizes) the man waving at him (it was a late night and drinks were drunk).
"Do I know you?" Ravens says to the man before really looking at him fully and then recognizing his knightship from the ceremony.
"Oh, excuse me, M'lord. I thought you were waving at me. Forgive my confusion and interruption." Ravens bows politely and slowly moves away.
Damn nobility, hiding in plain sight. I hope I didn't just screw myself right up there.
The Archery Competition is very simple. You shoot a target 60ft away.
Win: Hit against an AC of 20 (Bullseye)
Game Style: Individual, 3 Shots.
Rules: You shoot 3 shots at a wyvern.
AC-12-Outermost Shot(Leg, tail)
AC-15-Middle Shot (Body)
AC-18-Outer Bullseye (Neck)
AC-20-Bullseye (Boom! Headshot!)
After your 3 shots, you add up how many points you got (points = the AC you beat.) For example, a shot of 19 means you hit the Outer bullseye and get 18 points. Prizes are determined by the number of points you get.
Areanna makes her way to the Archery Range. A young man is working this game. He seems cheery as his dalmatian pet rests on his foot with his tail slightly wagging as you approach. He's got a lock box in front of him as well as a beer. Above the range is a sign that says THE WYVERN HUNT. About 60ft down range is a cutout of a Wyvern suspended in the air over more cutouts of pine trees. The worker asks you, Areanna, "Do ya have what it takes to take down tha wyvern, m'lady?"
You sing and your shot flies right into the opened mouth of the wyvern! "Not only can you sing, you can shoot! Great shot! Keep it up and you'll get the grand prize!" While you dock your next arrow you sense a blonde haired man in chainmail approach the game in line. You know him to be one of the Falcons who will be honored later today as they get ready to explore the Greenbelt! You think his name is Lionel.
For those who are particularly hungry- three Brevish dishes are being showcased for the best dish competition. Ameiko's Curry Spiced Salmon, The Hagfish's Momma's Traditional Rabbit Stew, and The Whitedeer's Peppercorn Venison. You still have to wait until lunchtime to have these though!
Areanna notices the man but does not stop her song for a minute. She focuses and continues to sing to improve her aim. She Fires again.
She fires once more.
Areanna nods. "Hmm my aim was a little off today." She looks at the results appraising. "It'll do for now."
Areanna accepts whatever reward is offered and moves to allow Lionel to move up. "Greatings. I understand your a member of the Falcons right. I think your name was Lionel. I am the beautiful, dignified, and arrogant Areanna Dalante. But you already know that I am sure. So I understand you will be honored today."
As Ravens turns to walk away, Bregan juggles his boar shank to his left hand and reaches out for the bird-keeper's shoulder with his free right hand.
He grasps the man's shoulder with a solid mailed fist and wheels him abruptly around, regarding him sternly.
"Ravens, then. I wanted to talk with you. You claimed to be adept at making scrolls."
His look of disapproval speaks for itself.
Vishoon looks strange in this crowd. He thinks he may be the only 1/2 orc here, and is defiantly taller than most. He wear purple silk shirt, and black pants, tied with red chord belt. The seamstress had assured him this was proper attire for wedding, tho he feels out of place without his falchion over his shoulder. But he seems to only get a few stares, and he hopes that is mostly from large scar on his face.
He watches the wedding hoping nothing but the best for the happy couple, and hopes they are not friends of Tevok because that might spoil their honeymoon. He spends 2 hrs just eavesdropping on peoples conversations, just hoping he hears the name Tevok coming from someones lips.
Tired of listen to boring conversation after boring conversation. He looks for something to do. Hearing of the Greased Pig contest, he remembers chasing pigs when he was younger, and decided to give it a try.
Initiative:
CMB:
Ravens spins quickly to bow again to Ser Bregan.
"M'lord? You know me? Yes, I can do the magical writing...though it takes time and not all will be able to unlock or understand the words and magic therein."
Ravens is confuzzled. (Last night was a blur.)
Bregan sighs at the convenient bout of amnesia striking Garrick Snow.
"Aye, last night in the Dragon you were quite the braggart of your skills."
He frowns at the murk covering the fellow bastard's memories.
"In case you missed it, I'm supposed to head to the Glenborne. You're well read on geography, right? What do you know of this area?"
Bregan grabs an additional boar-shank and plants it in the bird-master's hand, while gesturing to a nearby bench. It seems to be implied that Ravens has little choice but to sit and respond to the knight's inquiries.
The haze slowly recedes as Ravens scrunches his face up and tries to remember the last night. He walks to the bench quickly, as if he wishes this to end sooner rather than later.
"Forgive me, M'lord. It's been a bad few days...I overdid it with the drink last night. Forgive me if I offended you."
What did I do last night?
"The Glenborne, M'lord. Of course..." Ravens reaches into his mind to remember what he knows.
Geography
Nature for the area
"...I have not been to that area. I know little of the area. I have studied some geography, if you wished I would learn more for you."
What? Why did I just say that? Talk more to a knight? The drink from last night must still be upon me.
It seems I might have better luck asking my horse about The Glenborne.
Bregan frowns at the man.
His face is red - has he been drinking again, or crying?
"Yes, study what you can this evening. I will have questions tomorrow. Who is your lord that I may assure you are focused on this task?"
Gods, Bregan. You are already sounding like one of them. Is that all it takes -- a title and you become a self-absorbed ass? No, no. You are heading somewhere dangerous and unknown, it is appropriate to take this task seriously.
"I work for the Aldoris, M'lord. I am the bird master and assistant to the Head Stable Master in charge of all the Aldori animals, M'lord."
Ravens seems relieved that he may escape this with only one task.
"I will see what I can learn of the Glenborne and get back to you. I'm sure my Master will be able to help." If I can find him.
In a moment of insanity, Ravens takes a good look at Ser Bregan.
Sense Motive on what he wants from me
"Anything else, M'lord. If M'lord don't mind me asking, what is M'lord's name?"
Almost had the chance to escape my misery with a day at the festival...no, apparently, I'm fetching maps for a young 'noble'.
With a slight annoyance in his voice, Bregan felt the need to correct Ravens, "I am not a lord, you do not need to address me as such."
Bregan loathed referring to others as lords, why would he inflict such punishment on another? Although, there was almost something satisfying in inflicting the pain on others that had been inflicted upon himself.
No, I will try not to stoop to that level.
"Bregan Stone."
He made a gesture with his hand as if to dismiss Ravens.
Glancing at the pig-meat in hand, he suddenly felt incapable of finishing it, and stood to make his way to the stables.
You lucky horse...
Hey! Only Ravens should be looking at this!
You sense that Bregan is nervous about uncomfortable - whether about heading to the Glenborne, or in his new role as a knight.
He doesn't know much about the area, and is desperate for more information.
"Bregan Stone."
"Of course, M'--," Ravens voice trails off.
The name hits Ravens like a thrown stone.
Ravens hands clench and his eyes widen when he hears the name.
You 'saved' that jerk who is going to de-flower the one I love. It was *you*.
"Of course, *Ser* Stone." Ravens almost sneers out the word "Ser", quickly wishing he had not done that.
Ravens takes a deep breath and retreats, happy to have his dismissal.
Ser Bregan Stone. The fathead. Why didn't he let Gregan die?
* * *
Steaming, Ravens will search the festival, looking for the Head Stable Master.
Perception
If he passes any Aldori staff or peasants that he knows, he will ask them if they have seen the Master.
Wrestling pigs has worked up Vishoon's appetite. Grabbing some Roast boar he looks around some.
Wanders over "Hey aren't you the gnome with the talking dog from the rusty dragon last night? Enjoying the wedding?"
Storming off from his meeting with Ser Bregan, Ravens is not looking where he is going when he bumps into a wall, a giant, 6'3" wall of half-orc as it approaches a gnome with a dog.
"Forgive me, Sir. I beg your pardon."
Startled, Vishoon looks at this human. He looks familiar...
"Aren't you the one toasting lost love at the tavern last night?"
Ravens stammers.
What the heck did I *do* last night?
"It was me! I hope I was eloquent...or at least coherent. You were there? Well met. I am Ravens. I don't suppose you know anything about the Glenborne?"
Areanna notices the man but does not stop her song for a minute. She focuses and continues to sing to improve her aim. She Fires again.
1d20 + 5She fires once more.
1d20 + 5Areanna nods. "Hmm my aim was a little off today." She looks at the results appraising. "It'll do for now."
Areanna accepts whatever reward is offered and moves to allow Lionel to move up. "Greatings. I understand your a member of the Falcons right. I think your name was Lionel. I am the beautiful, dignified, and arrogant Areanna Dalante. But you already know that I am sure. So I understand you will be honored today."
2 of 3 of Areanna's arrows fly into the mouth of the Wyvern. The third dropped too soon and landed square into the chest of the cutout.
The man and the dog get up and congratulate you. "You won our grand prize! Free wine vouchers for this evening! It's the least we can do since you so adeptly killed that wyvern! Now for you sir, it will be just a moment as I retrieve the arrows..."
The man coifs his hair and says "That won't be necessary."
He eyes you for a little bit. Liking what he sees, he smiles and says "Yes. That is I, Ser Lionel. It is a pleasure to meet you my lady. I see you have some talent with a bow. Why don't you stick around and see if you can pick up any tips from my form." He draws one of the arrows from the quiver and docks it. "Ha! You call this an honor? A speech at some a&+%#&~'s wedding an honor? Ha. My family s&%~s better festivals than this." He takes aim briefly and lets fly an arrow.
The arrow whiffs way high over the wyvern! Not even close!
"That arrow was defective. I make my own you know..." He lets fly another.
The arrow flys horizontally into the wyvern with a thud!
Your well placed arrows, still lodged into the cutout serve as a reminder of his shortcomings in this competition.
"Impossible. These arrows are s+*$! Look at this fletching! It isn't even straight! First bastards in my party and now this joke of an archery range...." His anger at the man is seen rising. He is clearly embarassed at his performance near you. He looks for a bit for the best arrow he can find.
"Yes. This one will do. I guess."
The arrow flies true at a slant and pierces with a dull thud into very tip of the tail.
"You should probably just see me on the field of battle. I respond best when under pressure and not using unweighted pisspoor arrows. Areanna, you should see me in the joust this evening! Yes! I promise it would be a better show than this was."
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Vishoon, your ears do catch wind of the name Tevok being dropped. He seems to be a member of one of the Expeditions. Right now it is unclear which one but you think he is a member of the Iron Wraiths. He's known for his sharp tongue and sharper glaive. He also likes to get drunk.
The pig contest is always a pleasure for the crowds. Even the intimidating half-orc newcomer feels a little welcome among the other meaner looking men in the group. You notice a red-haired man with mutton chops in one corner named Das. It is easily deduced he is a smith. Also in this game are two rather burly mercenary guards.
1,
2,
D,
Before the whistle even finished blowing the piglet darted away from Das and straight at Vishoon who easily snatched the little piggy in one try!
"HE CHEATS! NO ONE'S THAT GOOD!" one of the husky men says.. but Das shuts him up. He approaches you in a friendly manner and says, "Not bad fer havin' a pig for a dad! After lunch I'm runnin' tha Ogre Smasher and I personally wanna challenge you to a test of strength! Beat me there and I might make ye somethin' special at me shop."
Vishoon snarls at the husky man...then Smiles at Das
"My father have had a few pigs,when i was a lad one of my chores was taking carer of them. Tell me about this 'Ogre Smasher' contest."
Vishoon ponders Raven's question...
"Sorry I don't know much about Glenbourne. and yes it was a fine toast about lost love, tho I think many there thought it was in bad taste"
"Tha Ogre Smasher is the name for the bell-ringer! You strike with the hammer and see how high the bell goes! If I go higher, I win. If you go higher, ya cheated! Now if ya excuse me I gotta go get more drunk before me shift."
After his bumping into of Vishoon, Ravens will begin searching for his Master, the Head of Stables for the Aldoris.
I hope to whatever God Bregan prays to that my Master knows a bit about the Greenbelt.
Wandering the festival, Ravens keeps his eye out for the Master and asks known Aldori staff where the Master might be.
Perception
Ravens prays silently to the Green Mother that this task be done quickly so he might enjoy this festival outside of running errands for fatheadded nobility.
EDIT: Changed Glenborne to the Greenbelt.
I will be there...and you will not be 1st sore loser to say I cheat."
You stumble across the Head of Stables grooming a particular large Clydesdale named Elminster. "Hello lad, what can I do fer ya? Here to take over so I can finally enjoy this blasted wedding?" He chuckles.
Hearing that Tevok is associated with the Iron Wraiths, he decides to see if he can find where these men are drinking (as he assumes they most likely will be together. Once finding them he will hang close by until he can identify which one of them is Tevok.
Ravens lets out a deep breath as he finds his instructor and mentor.
"Master! I'm glad I found you. "Ser" Bregan cornered me and started asking me all about the Greenbelt. I grew flustered under his berating and forgot what I knew about the Greenbelt. The man is not a good man."
Ravens moves to help the Master with his grooming.
"Ah Master, this has not been a good few days. This marriage is not right...Gregan is not worthy of Syra. And now Ser Bregan wants to ask me a bunch of questions and I don't like him!"
Ravens picks up a picker and begins to attend to the hooves of the Clydesdale.
"I would take over for you, Master, but I must find this fool knight and tell him about the Greenbelt."
"There, there. That's a good boy," Bregan speaks in soothing tones, quite in sharp contrast to the abrupt talk he had with Ravens earlier.
He holds the remnants of his brunch out for the horse to nibble on.
"Well lad, With tha tangled woodlands of the Narlmarches to the west and the rugged hills of the Kamelands to the east, the Greenbelt is a haven for bandits. Yessir. In my 50 somethin' years this year has been one of the werst for banditry. Between you 'n me, somethin's going on and I fear for those explorers. . Like they are walking into a bear-trap... Anywho, to tha south, tribes of trolls and more dangerous creatures provide a quite effective buffer between Brevoy and Mivon! Them explorers will have their hands full!"
His speech is interrupted as he sees Ser Bregan walking his horse back into the stables. "Ah hello, lad!"
Vishoon, the Iron Wraiths are current in their exclusive tent with 2 sentries posted out front. A direct approach into the tent would mean one of the guards tells you "They are gettin' ready fer the ceremony an' if ye wanna see'em you'll have ta wait 'till after."
You do see an armed figure walking to the tent from behind. He seems to be wielding two good looking girls, one in each hand. His posture and attitude is easy to decipher- young, drunk, and to have a wanton vibe. If left alone, the guards bid, "goodday, Ser Twintale."
Having finished another couple of roasted boar legs, Tiomir is reclining against a table while Rufus sniffs around curiously. Ser Stone left with his horse, so company is scarce. The chatter of the day easily wears them both out, so it is with some gusto that the gnome scrambles onto his feet. "I wish to find Syra."
"But we just ate."
"What better time to stretch your legs, then?" Grumbling, Rufus gets up on his feet as Tiomir begins to waddle in direction of the cheers. The archery competition does tempt to some extent, Yet my arse is numb after all that sitting...
"Pardon, does anyone know where I could find Syra?" he calls out with the strongest voice he can muster...