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The day is Sunday the 22nd of Lamashan, year 4707 A.R. (Aroden Rising).
On this day begins the annual Swallowtail Festival, an annual day of observance in the faith of Desna. It is a grand affair, a day of fun and games that many people across Varisia and neighboring countries celebrate and observe.
You have arrived at Sandpoint, a small coastal town of just over a thousand. Mostly humans, but the other major races are present. It is a prosperous hamlet on the Lost Coast of Varisa, and is generally welcoming to all races.
As you approach on the well-traveled road, there is a sign next to a mirror. The glass itself is a bit dusty, but you are able to see your reflection in it. A parchment nailed above the ornament itself reads:
Welcome to Sandpoint! Please stop and see yourself as we see you!
The townsfolk are busy preparing themselves for the Festival, bustling about with carts of merchandise or setting up games. Children run laughing in the streets, young men and women set up games of strength and skill and elderly reminisce about Festivals come and go.
I arrived yesterday afternoon, on a Sczarni caravan. I would have arrived earlier, but some goblins waylaid the caravan as we were exiting the Churlwood. We had to stop in Galduria and Nybor to restock the lost supplies. The goblins seemed intent on taking them, though for what purpose, I've no idea.
But all that is behind me. The Swallowtail Festival awaits, and with it, well-deserved relaxation.
Jovalson arrived by boat this morning and wandered in from the docks of Sandpoint. His arrival was pure chance, a mistake really, as he was headed to the capital and accidently was dropped off here. Never one to question such strange twists of fate, Jovalson accepts it as part of his destiny and embraces the the festival. Surely this is a sign. A festival on the day of observance in the faith of Desna. I certainly can't complain.
Jovalson claps when the children run by. "May Desna fill your dreams with candy and music." Jovalson is sometimes stopped because he bears a wooden holy symbol of Desna tied to a cord around his neck. "Remember to follow your dreams," he says so often it is almost a routine.
A young group of kids stop by you, consisting of three boys and two girls. They whisper frenziedly among themselves before shoving a young boy, no more than eight, in front of you. He shyly looks to the ground before plucking up the courage and asking “Hey, mister? We were wondering…erm…you’re a Shoanti. How come you don't have any tattoos?"
He bows slightly. ”Good morning, brother. I don’t recognize you, but allow me to introduce myself. My name is Abstalar Zantus, and I am the high-priest of Sandpoint’s Cathedral.”
He smiles and extends his hand.
Jovalson extends his hand and a smile. "An honor to meet you. My name is Jovalson. I have just arrived this morning on a ship bound for Oppara, but as you can see, Desna decided to bring me here instead. Indeed, to arrive on the day of her honor is a sure sign indeed. Don't you agree? I can't wait to see Sandpoint's Cathedral and pay my respects."
Jovalson walks for a moment with Abastalar. "While I don't question Desna's hand in bringing me here to Sandpoint, I can't help but wonder why. Is there something going on in Sandpoint, some kind of trouble brewing? I've been blessed with a strong arm, strong enough to lift even this heavy thing." Jovalson holds up his heavy mace and smiles. "For when Desna gives me bad dreams, hahaha." Jovalson laughs at his own joke.
As you walk off, you hear the collective sound of "Aw...", followed by "Great, now you made him angry! Nice going, Aeren!".
He playfully roars as he shakes his fist. "Those brewers at Magnimar can't tell a good beer from the drippings of a storm drain..."
Grunting lowly, Nante heads in the direction of the festivities. "Pah! Nosy boy," he mutters under his breath.
Sarvin had arrived in this quaint little village called "Sandpoint" just a few hours ago...Let's see if this place is worth bothering with and has my favorite thing in plenty...
Dust flew around the reflection of the old mirror, as Karl tried to get a more fair look at himself by blowing it awaySee yourself as we see you? A mirthless sneer appear on the curly haired mercenary's face All you'll see is an armed stranger who needs a shave, all I'll see is a former thug still trying to stick to being a law abiding sell-sword The sneer turned into a quiet chuckle And sometimes people can't even tell the difference After giving himself one last look in the mirror Karl continued on his way.
Jovalson laughs at the Zanthius' joke and moves on to the Sanpoint Cathedral to pay respects and 'register' with the local clergy. Once done, he decides to go out and enjoy the festival.
The square in front of the church quickly fills up with people as the local authority figures prepare the traditional speech before the start of the festival. In the crowd, there are merchants present from all over Varisia- Magnimar, Riddleport and even as far as Korvosa- have come to enjoy the festival and peddle their wares.
The dull roar of the crowd becomes silent in an instant, as Mayor Kendra Devrin mounts the stage, a short red-haired woman with a friendly disposition about her. She flashes a warm smile to the crowd before beginning her speech:
"Greetings and good morning to all of you who have come to enjoy the Festival! I am happy to be here and celebrate with all of you. For the locals, I cannot thank you enough for all the time and effort you have put in to making everything look beautiful in every way. It's good to see everyone out and about, even you, Larz Rovanky!"
The crowd chuckles and a voice rises out, "Ah, you can blame the missus for that. I told 'er that there were still some orders teh be-" but whatever he had to say was cut out by the laughter. Red-faced, the man tries to make himself appear smaller, grumbling about deadlines and imperfect stitches in his leather.
Kendra Devrin resumes, "I'd like to ask Sheriff Hemlock to say a few words!" She steps back from the podium to allow a man to take her place. He is tan and bald, dressed not in the livery of the crowd but in the armor of the Sandpoint Watch. His face is stoic as he begins his speech.
"Thank you, Mayor," he intones in a solemn baritone. "Now, I'm compelled to remind you all to take care of yourselves today, especially at tonight's bonfire. Also, today marks the five year anniversary of the devastating fire. I would like to request a moment of silence as we pray for their souls to rest in peace."
Following a moment of introspective silence, he nods respectfully and steps away from the podium. The man replacing him is of stark contrast, dressed in the livery of an entertainer and showman. His hair has been trimmed to perfection and a dazzling smile dispels the somber attitude of the Sheriff's precautions.
"Unfortunately, Lonjiku Kaijitsu is unable to give his speech as he as come down with the seasonal illness brought about by allergies. But, we will be sure to celebrate with him in spirit!
"Well met, one and all! I am Cyrdak Drokkus, as I'm sure many of you know. I would like to take a brief moment to thank the founding families, religious clergy, and local businesses for their most generous and welcome donations to help make this wondrous new cathedral a possibility to exist in our little slice of the world. I know my own establishment made a sizable donation, not to say the least. Anyway, in honor of this event, I wanted to make sure everyone was aware of the special feature being performed at the Theater tonight, 'The Harpy's Curse,' with the role of Avisera, the Harpy Queen, being performed by none other than my dear friend, Allishanda, the diva of Magnimar!"
Excited murmurs can be heard amongst those gathered, as well as a few groans and moans from those not interested in theatrics. He then concludes, "Without further ado, allow me to present the true host of these festivities, Father Zantus!" Cyrdak extends his arm in a flourish of a bow, then makes his way out of the limelight.
A middle-aged man in blue robes and hair the color of the twilight sky makes his way up the stairs. He turns and bows to those gathered, and pleasantly states, "I know you're quite eager to being the festivities, so I'll keep it brief; thank you all for attending this glorious day. None of this would be possible without you. We must give our thanks to the Goddess of Dreams, Stars and Travelers, so without any more delay," he gestures to the crowd containing familiar and new faces before trowing his arms into the sky excitedly, "Let the Swallowtail Festival begin!"
***
A variety of games are available to play, ranging from martial feats of strength and dexterity to tests of courage and valor. Notable activities include:
* Hide-and-Seek
* Weight-lifting
* Balance Beam contests
* Sack races
* Tug-of-war
* Various eating contests
* Ranged Weapon games (archery, throwing knifes, etc.)
To the winner are the bragging rights of victory for the entire day (and the possibility of a reward depending on the game)!
Watching the speeches roll one after the other as he stood against the wall of one of the closed shops, Karl lost interest somewhere after the Hemlock was done giving his warning Guards and sheriffs have mostly shown me why the world still has bounty hunters and mercenaries, I am not really expecting anything different from you hemlock... With that thought in mind Karl strolled through the cheering crowds, and the laughing overly energetic children, one of them was not taking care and had fell when he ran into his left leg.
"Beat it, kid" Said Karl, to the boy who ran into his leg, before stopping in his tracks and looking from right to left for the sheriff of Sandpoint.
Nante decides to enter the archery competition, idly wondering if he's meant to bring his own arrows.
The barker at the archery booth, arms outstretched, cries, "Come one, come all, to a test of skill the likes of which even the proud Shoanti--" He comes to an abrupt stop as his eyes alight on Nante, then continues: "--Would, uh, find interesting!"
"Must I waste my own arrows?" asks Nante, stepping out of the crowd, which gives him a wide berth.
The barker gulps. "N-n-oh, er, no, we have..." He holds up a bow and arrow, making a whimpering noise. Nante takes them from the man, who simpers at his touch.
After days of travel upon the road Varian walked through the town gates the morning of the festival. He had just made his way to the large crowded area as the speeches were rattled off.
Some fun is good for everyone, and perhaps a bit of a psuedo training for today as well
Varian will join the ranged weapons and tug-a-war games.
Hemlock notices you looking at him and narrows his eyes. He steps off of the podium and motions for his guards to stay back, walking through the crowd until he finally stops at you.
"I'm afraid we haven't met before, stranger. From the looks of things," he pauses as he looks you up and down, "It appears that you're from out of town. I would think that you know my name, but I don't think I ever got yours..."
The rest of the crowd steps back as you situate yourself in front of the targeting range. Hushed whispers break out among the crowd, ranging from your bizarre absence of tattoos to hurried bets being placed on the results of your aim. The difficulty of the targets ranges in five foot increments from 10 ft., 15 ft., 20 ft., 25 ft. and so on. Which target do you choose to fire from?
The barker gave you five arrows for each target. From a wooden board, a parchment with the list of prizes flutters gently in the wind, based on how many shots out of five hit the target(s).
The team that you are on has placed you as their anchor, as you have the gait of a powerful young half-elf. A woman holds up a colored flag and says, "Begin the games in three...two...one...go!" She drops the flag and the game begins!
You feel the rope go taut as both sides begin to dig their feet into the ground and pull with all their might. Muttered curses and whispered prayers from the teams ring out in the air to commingle with the cheering of the crowd.
Varian sets himself in a stance somewhat like a defensive stance he learned from his father. As the flag is waved He keeps the defensive stance as the others wear themselves, when he sees his chance he heaves for all he is worth.
"I am a bounty hunter and sell-sword and I am willing to offer my services to you and your town...for the right price" Announced Karl to Hemlock, his rough voice sculpted by his professional tone.
"Fifteen!"
"Twenty!"
But enough about me. What brings you into town on this fine day?"
"Erm...even though you missed three of the targets, your two attempts have garnered you a prize!" he proclaims, slowly regaining his bravado. "For hitting the bull's eye on your third shot, as well as getting another target, you win this delicious apple pie for attempting the games and this pouch of 10 Gold Pieces for your bull's eye!"
He smiles, albeit nervously, as he hands you a steaming apple pie and a pouch of gold coins.
You receive claps on the back from the crowd, offers for a drink later from your team and strong handshakes from your opponents. The woman with the flag approaches you to give your team their prize: meal tickets that can be redeemed at any of the taverns at inns after the Festival, as all food for the day is free of charge.
Krissina wanders the festival looking nervously around, she buys herself a small bag of sweets, keeping her mouth full stops people trying to talk to her.
Krissina wanders the festival looking nervously around, she buys herself a small bag of sweets, keeping her mouth full stops people trying to talk to her.
Trying to enjoy herself, but she's a strange little bundle of nerves and is actually just wandering aimlessly.
She may pause to watch games, but won't participate, she still doesn't trust her oracle powers and half expects something to burst into flames if she lets her guard down.
Nante's ire is momentarily raised at the barker's somewhat condescending speech, but the fellow is already terrified of him, so he graciously accepts the rewards and walks away, digging his hand into the pie as he does so.
Someone in the crowd makes a disgusted noise, and Nante stops. "Who was that?"
Silence. No one claims responsibility.
"That is the correct answer," says Nante, giving those around him a hard stare.
He strides away, looking for a place to eat the pie in peace, enjoying for this brief moment his status as a frightening and unpredictable savage.
"You're gonna wear a hole in the soles of your boots if you keep on meandering like a lost caravan, Krissy," she teases you as she steers you around to playfully drag you across town. "Come on and play a couple of games. Dad's too sick to be here in his stick-in-the-mud self, so I think it's only fair that we have some quality girl-time while he's out for the count."
Krissina tenses up a moment, but relaxes when she sees Ameiko, "And what am I going to play Ameiko?" She's about to continue but she gives a moment's pause with a smile to see if she does actually suggest something...
Sarvin calmly walks over to the archery range and looks to see whether or not they allow crossbows... Or his kind...
She grins and says,"Wherever he got that, we're gonna play it! I've got enough time to mess around before lunch! Besides, my curry-spiced salmon has to slow cook for another couple of hours."
She walks towards the Shoanti man and gives him a friendly greeting."Hello! Do you mind telling us where you got that pie? It smells wonderful, and I've been living here my entire life!"
He looks like he's about to pass out but he catches himself and mutters a prayer while making a symbol with his thumbs on his chest in the shape of a butterfly. Taking a deep breath, he advances from his position at the prize table towards you.
"Eh...welcome to the archery contest, good sir," the barker manages to stammer out. His eyes dart around the crowd, but all of a sudden, everyone seems interested in their shoelaces or other booths. He gulps before continuing,"Have you come to try your skills at the bow?" Ah- long and short bows only, I'm afraid," he trails off nervously as he notices the crossbow at your hip.
After storing his meal ticket into his pouch and giving many handshakes Varian makes his way towards the archery contest.
Damn, the one form of ranged combat that I know...
Tis sad but a wizard doesn't have the time to take up the long or short bow, unless ye happen to be an elf who has been trained to do so practically from birth... Pray tell me though are their any wizards or historians out and about? My interests lie with Thassilion of old and I have come to this town among other things to see if any ruins of the ancients survive as they do in Magnimar... As he speaks Sarvin holds up his hand wrought of pure gold and flexes the fingers to lend credence to his wizardly status...
knowledge (local) (since I don't have it as skill ten is the upper barrier of what I can know...)
His appearance is that of an elderly, balding man with spectacles and scholarly robes. While his gait is that of a stern teacher, he is actually a kind and easily-excited scholar who wants nothing more than to know the answers to "who", "what", "where", "why" and "how", especially to questions regarding Thassilon.
Varian will steer clear of the crowd for now, but makes a note of the tiefling.
I am not a man to judge one on heratige, but rare it is where those kind go that trouble does not follow. I will need to meet him at some point.
He wandered to a less populated shooting area and picks up an arrow. His victory at the tug a war has left him confident. He takes aim and calls out the 20ft target.
Without a word Sarvin leaves for a clearly more interesting man, one worth speaking with...
As she finishes, she extends her hand out accompanied by a friendly smile.
Your shot pierces through the center of a target made to look like the Sandpoint Devil, a winged, horse-like monster of local folklore and myth said to snatch cows and children in the dead of night.
The crowd roars in approval and the barker claps your efforts, discreetly wiping sweat off of the front of his forehead from earlier. "Excellent shot, sir! You immediately qualify for a pie and 10 Gold Pieces, but you have four more shots left to take! Do you wish to continue?"
Your eyes scan through the crowd as you wander through town, searching for anyone in the Festival resembling the description of Bodert Quink.
Jovalson will make his way to the theater to get a showing of 'The Harpy's Curse.' Jovalson will ask anyone sitting near him who Allishanda is and why they are a big deal in the theater business.