Akrem turns his back on the drunk, lines up another shot, and lets it fly.
Your arrow once more pierces the heart of the target, piercing the wood not a half an inch away from your first bullseye.
Gorvi stands, stunned. The half-orc blinks at you, mouth agape, then bats a pudgy hand at you, waving you off, and shoves his way back through the crowd, who make a mad rush to shake your hand.
Jovar presses something into your hand. Your three gold coins and a small wooden butterfly. "Give that to Almah, there, and she'll bake you anything you want, free of charge."
"Good job, kid."
His hand closes around your forearm, but you break free of his grip and take another swing, missing your mark by several inches.
Valeria, as you walk the streets you spot an elderly gnome, crouched in front of a small crowd of children and juggling small balls of light in the air. The excited clamour of children yell "Again Mister Veznut! Again!" and the gnome obliges, staring at you wearily.
Rohan takes his time and enjoys the salmon and mead. It takes him about 45 minutes to finish his meal and he packs up his things. He pays his tab and heads for the town square. "This should be interesting. What did she mean when she said I wouldn't want to miss it? I bet its something Copper would drag me to. I wonder where he is now?" He rushes over as he does not want to risk being late for whatever it is.
"Taken against the other merchants gathered her, your table is relatively empty, and I was simply curious about the nature of the business."
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Zavac throws down his remaining weapon whilst leaping back. Bowing to the imposing man before him, he yells to the crowd, "Your Sheriff is a fine fighter. Be proud to have him guarding you all. I shall withhold further shame, and present your winner."
Zavac nods again to the man, then swiftly retrieves his weapons, turns to exit, and begins his search for a place for food. And a drink. I hope they have something fruity here.
She turns over the card. "The Tangled Briar." she says, mournfully. "Nothing but ill tidings."
"Come, dear. Would you like to see what your future holds?" she says, grabbing your wrist with frail, shaking hands.
Zavac, you feel the man's hand grip your shoulder. "You honour me, elf, but I believe the day belongs to you." he says, clasping a purse of 15gp in your hand. He raises his hand in a salute. "Do you plan on staying in town, stranger? I could use someone to teach my boys a thing or two." he says.
While he speaks, you notice your forehead is slick with blood. Reading your face, the Sherrif smiles. "Hannah will deal tend to that for you."
The concerned looking woman washes away the blood and daps at it with a poultice, and the bruise lessens instantly. She hands you a vial. "Drink this."
Lohrgan grinds his teeth nervously as he stares at the card. "That mine should remain buried, along with the dead that have been left there."
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Gladly accepting the potions, Zavac nods. "Thank'ye, Sheriff, Hannah. Unfortunately, I'm here to meet someone. Mayhaps after my prior engagement is complete, I may take you up on that offer."
Flicking a gold coin to Hannah, and a wink to the Sheriff, he takes his leave. An enticing offer, certainly. There's not many elves here, he said. Another boon.
"Sit, child." she says, placing three cards on the table. "Choose one."
After glances to either side, Lohrgan shrugs and sits at the table, tapping the card on his left.
"The Forge. Strength forged in hardship." she says, looking at you appraisingly. She flips the other two cards. The Cyclone and The Lamia.
"You spoke of the past before. Am I to presume that one of these represents the present, and another the future? What of the fourth?"
"Perceptive." she says. "The Briar represents the past, or rather, history. History best left forgotten. The Lamia? Deception. An evil hidden amongst unsuspecting people as we speak."
"And the Cyclone?"
"A plot that will spell the doom of many." she says. "Should it come to pass."
Her face splits into a mad grin. "But then, what do I know? They say I've cracked anyway." she says, cackling.
Valeria smiled at the children's antics. "While I'm sure I can't match up to the skill and talent of master Veznut, perhaps we could let him take a break?" She suggested, her voice warm. The half-elf made a brief series of gestures and some muttered words under her breath.
From nowhere, she plucked a red rose from behind a girl's ear, and the rose slowly shifted colour. First red, then yellow, then orange, then purple, until finally, each petal was a different colour.
As she warmed up, she moved into some better tricks - conjuring minor objects with puffs of smoke, changing the shape and colours of objects and so on, all the while bantering with the children. She might not being a true entertainer, but Valeria likely had enough to amuse the kids for a while. And she'd always liked kids, so it wasn't a hardship for her.
Akrem is embarrassed by all the attention from his shooting display, yet grateful that his aim was true enough to get the drunken halforc to leave without a physical confrontation. He graciously accepts the gold and wooden butterfly, and shakes hands and chats with any townsfolk who want to shower him with praise.
When the crowd begins to thin, Akrem makes his way back into the town proper, milling about the stalls before heading back towards the barracks to see how the sparring matches are going.
Akrem arrives just after his uncle declares an elf to be the winner of the day, hoisting the champions wrist in the air. Akrem waits on the sidelines for his uncle's business to finish and for the older man to notice him.
Lohrgan's eyes narrow at the woman's toothy smile as memories of demon-possessed prophets enter his mind. For the first time since his arrival, the sheepish demeanor is thrown off as he speaks in a dire though not-quite threatening tone.
"And by what fell patron are granted such clairvoyance?" he whispers, his voice almost a growl. "You speak of hardships and you speak of doom, and then laugh in the face of such predictions. I am no stranger to these horrors, crone, in fact I have crossed half of Avistan to escape them. If you truly do know something, then cease these half-truths or identify yourself as an alley of those who propagate this cataclysm you predict." He bolts upright, standing from his chair and pushing it back into the table. "Or stop wasting my time," he finishes. "Such topics are not the purview of festival games." He turns his back with a deep huff and makes his way towards the dueling ring, hoping one familiarity will chase away another.
The crowd rush to the square as Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large, covered wagon into the square. He begins telling a parable. "One day, in ages past, as the goddess spun the stars in the sky, she was set apon by the Mother of Monsters and fell to earth. There she was found by a blind child, who nursed the goddess back to health. As the goddess awoke, she transformed the girl into an immortal butterfly in her gratitude, free to wander the stars and places beyond with her." he recounts, smiling. The people watch along, patiently. They've heard this tale year after year, and heard others tell it better. "So know, children, that when you do a kindness apon a stranger, a bit of the goddesses' luck will come your way." he adds, smiling.
He taps on the wagon behind him, and the acolytes remove the curtain, revealing a cage full of colour, swirling with more Swallowtail butterflies than most of you have ever seen. The cage is opened, and a spiral of colour erupts into the sky in a chorus of cheers. The children begin chasing them excitedly, the locals watching along and laughing.
Boiko, a half dozen nest on each of your outstretched arms, before taking off spiraling into the sky.
The rest of the day passes quickly in haze of music, colour and good cheer. The butterflies spread rapidly throughout the town, nesting here and there as they try to escape the persistant children. As the sun begins to set, you each make your way to the square one last time for the consecration.
Rohan takes in the sights of the butterflies, marveling in the bright colors. "If only Copper were here. He'd enjoy this." He surmises. For the rest of the day, he will get himself a room at the Dragon and then explore the festival until sunset.
Akrem spends the afternoon wandering among the stalls in the festival, making sure to grab a bite to eat from some of the visiting vendors, though he makes sure to not get close at all to the White Deer. He keeps an eye out for his uncle, waiting to get a chance to talk to him about his shooting down at the beach and the sparring match. He is particularly curious about the elf that supposedly defeated the town sheriff.
As the sun begins to get low in the sky and people gather near the town center for the consecration, Akrem finds Ilsoari Gandethus watching over some of the younger children from the Turandurok Academy. He makes sure to tell Gandethus the story of his encounter with Gorvi in exaggerated detail, and spends a little time playing with a few of the children as well, until the show starts.
Lohrgan spends the remainder of the day observing the duels, finding the spectacle intriguing. He considers trying his hand in the ring, but ultimately decides against it and resigns himself to simply watching.
As things begin to die down, he follows the throngs of citizens to the cathedral as he listens to the priest's speech, smiling inwardly at the parable. As the butterflies are released, he spreads his arms, closes his eyes, and raises his head skyward, this time not caring if the unusual gesture is noticed.
Afterwards, he takes a seat in the square and quietly watches the children chase butterflies around town, taking solace in their innocent displays.
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After the duel, Zavac goes for a bite to eat. He then spends the rest of the afternoon in solitude, by the river. Once the sounds start to slow down and the sky begins to darken, he joins the crowds by square. The butterflies fluttering past him darkens his mood, bitterness seeping back in, his scowl back on like a mask.
Interesting use of the butterflies. Too bad Desna has apparently all but forsaken me...she really does have the most beautiful representation. Damn the Loremasters...all those years, and for what? Desna's approval? Hardly...more like their own ends.
The sun sets over the Varisian Gulf, casting a twinkling orange light over the garish blue decoration in the town square. A large crowd of curious townsfolk fill the square, as the consecration of the cathedral is set to start. Most of the townsfolk have yet to see inside, and eagerly gather to see the towns newest and most expensive piece of architecture.
The tooth-rattling chime of the churchbell silences the excited crowd as the sun’s setting rays paint the western sky. A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake, and the buzz of two dozen conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus has taken the stage. He clears his throat, takes a breath to speak, and suddenly a woman’s scream slices through the air. A few moments later, another scream rises, then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises—high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human. The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pools around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
Boiko
Lorghan
Qualin
Rohan
Valeria
Zavac
Sorry - this post happens before the events have been set in motion.
Boiko recites the parable to himself along Father Zantus. As the cloud of butterflies engulfs the square, he closes his eyes and stretches the arms, forgetting that he's on a main square in a throng of people, and waits until he feels the gentle wings flapping near his face. He then opened his eyes and counted how many sacred creatures have adorned him.
A dozen this time. An even number - ill omen. But more than last year - good omen. Who knows what will you bring me, little friends? Go, and fullfill your destiny, while I will go and try to find mine.
As the people start to flock away from the square, Boiko tries to find Father Zantus to have a friendly banter and, if he gets enough courage, ask if Father would consider granting him a position in the temple. But reverend Zantus is nowhere to be found - it is likely he locked himself in the cathedral, preparing for the evening's consecration.
Boiko spends the rest of the day familiarising himself with Sandpoint, its cozy buildings, mischievous children, and diverse inhabitants. He generally likes what he sees, and by evening his spirits are lifted slightly. Eventually he returns back to the square and waits for the consecration to start. There he is again lost in thoughts about Desna.
This collective organized effort of dozens of people required to build such a cathedral seems to be far from the usual Desna's teachings, yet it is still their way to show their dedication to her. Boiko himself has wandered a different path for quite a while. Has it finally come to an end? Or should he stay true to his ways a while longer? His mind wanders off and he's unable to reach a meaningful conclusion. He decides to absorb the impressions of the consecration first, and put off these thoughts until tomorrow.
Rohan looks around and sees the little monster hiding under the wagon and charges at it. He roars as his skin takes on a golden hue. Claws extend themselves from his hands and he takes a swipe at it.
damage.
Boiko
Lorghan
Qualin
Rohan
Valeria
Zavac
Goblin
Father Zantus
Sheriff Hemlock
PERCEPTION:
The Current Initiative Order (for the surprise round):
Zavac
Goblin
Sherrif
Qualin
?
Lorghan
Rohan
Akrem is so caught up in playing with some of the younger children from the Academy, that he completely misses the early warning signs of impending danger.
Bolting upright at the sight of the goblin, Lohrgan slips a heavy-headed throwing axe from his belt and prepares to let it fly.
Splitting his attention between searching for his old friend, appreciating the colorful sites (particularly those of the fairer sex), and brooding over his distant troubles, Qualin meanders his way about the festivities. He spends a few moments watching the impressive swordsmanship between elf and shoanti bladesmen, but nothing else catches his eye for long.
Finding his way near the church as Father Zantus is taking the stage, Qualin finds a relatively clear spot amongst the locals and prepares for what is likely to be a dull sermon. Rather than waste his time with the speach, he uses the opportunity to scan the gathered crowd for signs of Aldern...and instead spies a flash of green.
Hearing the screams and the beginnings of the song Qualin curses aloud. "This was supposed to be a reprieve..." He says while drawing his dagger.
Surprise Round Zacac bolts through a gab in the crowd, weapons drawn. Not one, but three Goblins race into the square, shrieking and leaping and cackling, taking an inhuman delight in the panic they've created, ocassionally stopping to sing along.
One of the goblins will rush headlong at Zavac, but the elf easily parries. A second will try to rush past him at the townsfolk, provoking an attack of opportunity.
The second goblin is caught across the belly by Zacac's blade and collapses, falling to the ground with its grin still frozen on its face. The third leaps over his fallen comrade and takes a swipe at one of the townsfolk, shrieking with glee.
Meanwhile the Sherrif spots the danger and rushes to the south, drawing his weapon and waving his arms in the air, and Qualin draws a finely made knife, his eyes darting here and there for the danger.
Suddenly, three more Goblins rush into the square, one rushing towards the food stalls, tearing menacingly into a piece of salmon, another charging into the crowd taking a slash at a blonde haired woman, and another moving to flank Zavac. Rohan and Lorghan rush to meet them.
Round 1 Initiative Order:
Zavac
Boiko
Goblins I, II, III
Qualin
Sheriff
Zantus
Goblins IV, V, VI
Akrem
Lorghan
Rohan
Valeria
Crowd
As the chittering wretches begin to swarm the square, Lohrgan is plunged into a bestial calm. Taking a quick survey of the area, he trains his gaze on those goblins that threaten civilians, and with a quick hop forward, he brings his axe to bear against the goblin standing near the large man with the spear.
Darting through the crowd Qualin spies a goblin with it's attention on mayham and terror...
Boiko's train of thought is interrupted by the sudden screams and mayhem in the square. Boiko notices that several armed people rush to restore the order, and prays to Desna for help.
The Goblin wheels out of the way of the elf's blades, staggering under the weight of it's bulbous head. It raises it's blade high and yells a challenge. "FILTHY LONGSHANKS CAN NIBBLE ON HAIR!"He leaps into the air and slashes into the elfs shoulder.
Goblin III turns on Rohan as he rushes through the crowd, swinging his blade franticaly left and right with a manic look in his eyes (and failing to land a single blow.) As he wheels around at the sound of a loud voice, Rohan sends him spinning to the ground with a powerful strike.
The Sherrif's voice comes booming over the crowd. "Everybody remain calm and move south to the Garrison!"
Father Zantus, unarmed, quickly ushers his acolytes into the temple.
The goblin in the stall (IV), having wolfed down his meal in a mere three seconds, hungrily leaps into the crowd, and sets apon Akrem, merrily singing along to the goblin war-chant, and the young man turns to see the overfed Goblin totter right past him.
The fifth goblin continues menacing the townsfolk, taking another slash at an injured woman, cackling as she trips over in fright, only to be hit by Lorghan's axe square between the eyes and killed.
The sixth goblin's eyes dance from Zavac to Qualin, and, obviously surrounded, he cowers behind his blade, raising it defiantly.
Currently we're waiting on Akrem, Rohan and Valeria. Zavac and Boiko, you can each take your actions also.
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Round 2, HP 8/12, AC: 18
With his attempt to gut the Goblin nullified, and then returned with pinpoint accuracy, Zavac lets out a howl in Goblin, "Nasty creature, you die NOW!"
Yelling as free action, Regular Attack vs. Goblin I, Starts using Buckler
LS -
Damage -
Confirmation roll -
Crit Damage -
Zavac laughs manically, swinging his longsword savagely at the creature.