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"Look alive, Caerwyn," says a voice, and you feel a heavy, leathery hand clap down on your shoulder. You turn around. The tanned, shaven face of the Sheriff looks down at you. Anyone else would take the man's expression for a scowl, but you know better. "Sun's nearly up, and we've got to be down at the square before it gets too crowded to move."
"I'll make this quick," he says, chuckling slightly at your appearance. "You know Cyrdak Drokkus, the Theater owner? Well, last night he asked me for a favor. He's making a big speech this morning in front of the new Cathedral, and he wanted me to shill for him. Y'know, clap and cheer real loud on the big lines." The heavyset innkeeper rolls his eyes at the cynicism. "Probably learned that trick from Grobaras himself. Anyway, I know you've wanted a shot at the big time, and if you did this for him he'd probably appreciate it."
"This is Jargie," says the captain, clapping the other man on the shoulder. "I must've stayed at his place, the Hagfish, a dozen times, when I could." Jargie holds out his hand to shake.
"Best lobster bisque in Varisia," says the Jargie, a boastful smile on his face. "Come down to the new cathedral around noon, I'll be selling some cheap."
A handsome, brown-haired man in a white tailcoat walks into your room. "Cousin Teo!" he says warmly, spreading his arms wide. "It's me, Belven. Forgive the noise," he says, inclining his head towards the door. "Brunton wanted to call you down, but Father told me you hadn't seen anyone but servants since arriving last night, so I came myself. After breakfast we're going to take a walk into town for the dedication, do you want to join us?"
You remember people in the common room last night talking about their plans for the festival today. Apparently the townsfolk were dedicating a new temple and everyone was taking the day off to celebrate, including the Mayor and the Sheriff. If anyone would know where to start looking for dangerous beasts or other trials you could impose upon yourself, they would be there.
Hmm, I forgot about the dedication ceremony for the new church. Best make myself look as presentable as possible. Jin readies herself to speak to the Sheriff, or Mayor, putting her clothes over her armor, and carrying only her dagger and scimitar to let either person realize she's serious, but hoping to appear non-threatening. She brings her money pouch, and leaves the rest of her gear at the inn, trusting the door locks to keep them secure.
As Jin finishes getting ready, she decides to approach Madam Ameiko for information about the Mayor or the Sheriff. If Madam Ameiko hasn't already left, Jin intends to say, "Madam Ameiko, I was hoping you could help me with a problem. I'm seeking the knowledge of either the Mayor or the Sheriff of threats to the locals in the area, yet I am unaware of what they look like. Could you give me a description either person and where I might find them?"
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If Ameiko has already left the inn, Jin decides it would be best to simply leave and follow the crowd to the ceremony, and begin asking around for help in locating the Mayor or Sheriff. On the way to the ceremony, Jin will keep an eye out for any open stalls that might sell new or interesting games for her to play in her travels.
If Jin is unsuccessful in finding either the Mayor or the Sheriff, she will wait for the ceremony to proceed and hope either person she is looking for will be introduced as part of the ceremony.
“Gladly, cousin. It’s good to finally meet you in the flesh.” Teobold reaches out to grip Belven’s arm in greeting. “I’ve appreciated your letters these last months, assuring me that my visit would be welcome. And I must thank your father for his hospitality. This,”--he sweeps his arm around to indicate the sunny room, the fresh linen, the porcelain washbasin—“is more than I’ve become accustomed to. I’ve been in houses larger and finer in Magnimar, but none so great in courtesy. “
Teobold smiles warmly as he studies Belven’s face. And is it only family feeling, coz, that makes me a guest of honor? he thinks. Would a Valdemar fisherman cousin from old Cheliax get the same reception? Or is there something you imagine a Priest of Abadar can arrange for you, some favor you hope to win from my father? His own suspicion saddens him.
The Valdemars, merchants by blood and training, aren't easy to read, but Teobold feels he understands his cousin well enough.
Mon Dieu, what do they pass as cognac in this hole forsaken by gods. My head is pounding...ah, it's not just the head
"S'il vous plaît monsieur, stop pounding on that door..." - opening the door dressed in his nightshirt only, Timor was a sore sight. He looked tired, very tired, and it was probably very easy to guess that he had either quite a lot to drink, or he had a very "interesting" night. Actually, probably both combined.
It takes him several long moments to realize what the innkeeper actually wants from him. Finally he answers: "Ah uoi, Je...I mean I will be there promptly."
Barely suppressing the need to go back to bed again, Timor spends next half an hour dressing himself properly. It is always good to look the best you can, especially in front of the audience
Finally, bard heads downstairs where he orders a shot of "whatever I was having last night, and I do not mean the girl", and with a crooked smile he moves towards the cathedral.
I'm not really a morning person, but if Cyrdak wants cheering, than for sure he will get it - yawning heavily, Timor walks slowly towards cathedral, hoping to secure the spot in the front row/line.
Alys holds out her tiny hand to be engulfed by the captain's. "Perfectly understandable!" she says. "And I'll make it a point to try Master Jargie's food come noontime. Thank you for the safe voyage!"
Ever a light traveler, Alys steps onto the board that's been run across to the dock and picks her way daintily across it, not burdened by anything but the pouch at her belt and the dozing white weasel wrapped around her neck like a stole.
So here I am, she thinks. Now to see what the locals know about this Old Light!
"Aye, sir. I'll be ready' Caerwyn says with a smile as he stretches to loosen stiff muscles. After a quick breakfast he dons his armor and grabs his father's sword and heads out of the barracks with the other guardsmen.
Arriving early to the square, Caerwyn takes his time patrolling the area, stopping often to sample some of the vendors wares or to smile and talk to some of the local girls.
As the square begins to fill up Caerwyn finds himself a spot where he can keep an eye on the entrances and exits to the village common but also on the stage and the new temple itself.
"She's beautiful, I'll give you that and something this town's needed since the fire."
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Jargie has to leave to get his meal ready for lunch, but some of the people you ask point out Brodert Quink soon enough. He's an old man with white hair that you can tell has been falling out, a well-trimmed beard, and wrinkles. At the moment he's arguing with the owner of a stall that seems to be selling books. Around the stall are scattered other vendors and entertainers. From where you are you can spy an old woman offering to divine the future and a man with wispy gray hair manipulating what looks like a giant soap bubble with the tips of his fingers.
You manage to find a spot to the left of the stage from where you can see all the entrances to the square. Even including only the roads, and not the gaps between buildings, there are far too many for your liking. You explain this to Sheriff Hemlock when he next comes around on his rounds, and he sympathizes. As he's talking, however, you notice a graceful-looking woman staring in your direction. She's carrying a scimitar and her clothes fall like she's wearing them over armor.
"I don't know where it lives, if anywhere, and neither will Kendra or Belor," she says, a little more seriously. "That's the mayor and sheriff," she explains. "But Belor's a grouchy, nosy stick in the mud, so if there was any real danger afoot, he'd know. You'll probably find him in the church square, hollering at kids to keep off the grass. If he's not doing that you can find him by the reflection off his shiny bald head."
The entertainments you find scattered around the border of the square include an archery contest, a beanbag throw, a tug of war, and a lizard race. There's also an old woman offering to divine the future and a man with wispy gray hair manipulating what looks like a giant soap bubble with the tips of his fingers. Near the church itself a makeshift wooden stage has been erected. No one is on it at the moment, but off to the side you spot a well-muscled man in armor with dark skin and a shaved head talking earnestly to another man. The other is also armored, but is much thinner, with straight gray hair.
The walk from the manor house of the Valdemar family is a pleasant one, shaded by trees on either side of the road and accompanied by the burbling of the Turandurok River. From the road you can see the white sails of ships coming and going from the dock. "Normally we go south when we want to walk," explains Belven, gesturing down the Lost Coast Road. "When you go this way most days all you can hear is the sawmill. But Titus – Lord Scarnetti to you – let his workers off for the day, and the mill's still." He gives an embarrassed smile at the somewhat lame rhyme.
The road begins to fill up with people as you cross the river into town, and it's not long before you find yourself in the church square. An empty wooden stage sits in front of the grand stone doors of the new cathedral, and vendors and entertainers jockey for your attention – and business – around the edges of the square. From where you are you can see an archery contest, a beanbag throw, a tug of war, and a lizard race. There's also an old woman offering to divine the future and a man with wispy gray hair manipulating what looks like a giant soap bubble with the tips of his fingers.
Teobold finds it easy to enter into his good-natured cousin’s light spirits. Today’s a festival—it’s only proper to save talk of business for another day. And the dedication will give me plenty of chances to appraise the leadership of the town. He sets aside as premature a judgment of whether Belven takes duty too lightly, and chats warmly with him as they stroll through the square.
“Are all these folk of the village, cousin? Or are many of them visiting for the dedication? Certainly many of them seem to recognize you.” The village square looks small and quaint after the bustling streets of Magnimar; this entire crowd could vanish into one corner of the Bazaar of Sails. Still, the inns seemed full enough, and the vendors pleased with the coin coming in. Odd gathering for a dedication...it looks as motley as a Varisian ship's crew--why, there's even a gnome. Teobold covers some slight startlement with a friendly if distant nod, and moves on towards the booksellers. I suppose it's a cathedral to Desna as well as to Abadar.
Teobold waves off offers of cakes, ale, and other festival dainties from all sides. “If you wanted to stuff me here, cousin, you shouldn’t have laid out such a fine breakfast. I’ll have some of that fish stew after the ceremony, though—nothing like fish straight from the docks. Now play the dutiful host and point out the people I should know. Would that fellow in the rich tunic be one of the Scarnettis? Your father thinks them a shrewd bunch,” Teobold says casually. If Uncle Ethram is wary, best to follow his lead. A small jungle can have a large tiger.
As Caerwyn catches sight of the strangely clad woman, he will make his way over towards her "Armor AND a weapon, strange choice of clothing for a festival" he thinks to himself as he approaches.
"Welcome to Sandpoint, are you in town for the festival?" he asks with a disarming smile. "Will you be here long?" he asks, his smile fading. "Are you expecting some sort of trouble to be going armed and armored on a day like today? There's not going to be any trouble, is there?" he asks, his smile completely gone, replaced by a cautious concern.
"Thank you for your help in this matter, Madam Ameiko" Jin says to the innkeeper, "If you do not mind, I will be leaving the rest of my gear in my room, and settle my tab when I return. Enjoy your day at the festival!" With that, Jin tips her hat to Madam Ameiko and makes her way to the festival.
As Jin wanders the crowd, she spots the bald head of who she assumes to be sheriff Belor, Madam Ameiko was not lieing about the sheriffs reflective head,. Before she loses him in the crowd, she quickly makes her way to sheriff Belor, hoping to catch him before the ceremony starts. When she does make her way to the sheriff, Jin will greet him and explain her reasoning for seeking him out."Sheriff Belor, my greetings to you. How fares the celebration for you on this day?" Jin says, honestly curious, "My name is Jin Ward and if you could spare a moment of your time after the ceremony has concluded, I would seek your advice about the surrounding landscape and creatures that dwell there.
Looking at all the various entertainers, drowsiness quickly disappears from Timor's head, only to be replaced by "professional appraisal". After all, these guys and girls were here for the same reason as him - audience. Majority of potential competitors were not anything special, in his opinion.
Although the old diviner lady seems to charge quite a lot - either not enough diviners around, or she's really good enough to ask for so much. And that guy with gray hair manipulating that giant bubble - hmmm, that is new. And it even seemed not to be magical...
Remembering finally that he should get one of the front spots, he hurries across the square, and notices with satisfaction that there are a few good spots still free. Placing himself just a few feet from the lip of a wooden stage, he starts to muse on the best possible lines.
Hmmm, let us see - the folks here look simple enough, maybe just a good, hearty laugh followed by "You're the man!" and "Top dog!" will be enough. I'd say that something like "Brevity is the soul of the wit" would be a bit lost on these folks...
Alys casts her eyes hungrily over the bookseller's wares, hoping to spot volumes of history she hasn't already read. A good browse of the stall would take quite some time, she realizes, and that might mean missing the chance to introduce herself to this local expert on the ruin she's come to explore.
"Master Quink," Alys says, her voice high and pure as a reed pipe compared to those of the humans bargaining around her. "Master Quink, if I may be so bold. I am Alys Kindletrick, late of Whistledown. I'm told you are the man to bring any questions about Old Light."