Dot here. Will post more sometime tomorrow.
Greetings, fellow servants of the gods
Thanks for selecting me GM. Looking forward to this!
May the (G)odds be ever in your favor.
Hello comrades, are we ready to forge our souls in the flames of battle.
"Hail comrades in arms. Let us wade into battle with the Lord of Iron."
As the sky begins to light up over Sandpoint, people begin to arrive at the fairgrounds. By the time the sun is above the horizon, a large crowd has appeared. Before things can get too dangerous (you know how bored crowds can be...), the mayor of Sandpoint - Kendra Deverin - steps up to give a speech. Her friendly attitude and excitment catch in the crowd as she jokes, even going so far as to point out Larz Rovanky - tanner-er - is in attendance despite his reputation as a workaholic.
Then the sherrif Belor Hemlock takes the stand with a darker view. He admonishes people to be safe around the fire, and asks for a moment of silence to honor those who died in the fire that claimed the old cathedral.
The next speaker is supposed to be Mr. Lonjiku Kaijitsu, but he has contracted a "sudden illness" preventing him from coming. The crowd chuckles at that announcement.
Cydrak Drokkus, however, fixes it up by taking the spotlight with his wits and a good repetoire of jokes, eventually ending with some advertisements for his local theater and their play "The Harpy's Curse" - and reveals that the leading role of harpy queen will be played by Allishanda. The crowd rolls their eyes at this point, as if to say "not again!"
Finally, Father Zantus gives a breif statement that goes along the lines of "Thank you for comming. Let the festival begin!"
The first event of the day is weight lifting. Deverin calls for all interested in competing to step forward.
Dohosa stands among the crowd, part of the town yet not entirely one with it, and listens to the speeches. This is his first experience of such a large festival and he is unsure what to expect.
When a weight-lifting competition is announced he stands back to let people past him. Small and weak compared to most Shoanti, Dohosa has long lived under the shadow of taller, stronger Shoanti and is used to not being involved in events like this. Nonetheless he stands nearby to watch.
The festival has barely commenced, and Felfiz is already face down in a pile of candyfloss. The beardless blackling gnome had planed to attend--he isn’t even doing anything he wouldn’t otherwise do--yet the tall hat with its colorful feather weighs heavy on his head like an iron crown of blades.
The morning had been spent sketching caricatures for coppers. All of those coppers have since been spent on candyfloss. Now Felfiz, small even by gnome standards, pulls himself upright, rubs his eyes with his charcoal-stained fingers, and drags himself to his easel like a man to the gallows. Picking up his mother’s brush, he details the sky in the commemorative portrait that he’s forgotten to secure a commission for. A bare silhouette in the center of the canvas waits for the winner of the strongman competition.
Standing disinterestedly to the right of the stage and along the edge of the crowd Turkas is drinking a mug of ale to while away the time until the speeches are done and the revelry starts.
Hearing the call for contestants for a weight lifting competition he thinks Ah, finally something of interest. and hurries to the front of the crowd to place himself first in line.
"I will test my strength with your weights." he says to Deverin.
Cole heard festival and thought of people drinking and having a good time. By the time the speeches have stopped Cole was rousing himself out of the comma he had been drawn into.
I should have brought a tankard of something stiff to this, at least that would have been entertaining.
Cole hears someone wanting to participate in a contest of strength. A smile crosses his face. Finally, something fun.
Cole moves over to where he heard the sound. Not having paid attention to who was actually organizing the event Cole make a blanket declaration.
Lets lift some weights, count me in!
Cyrus strolls about, trying to pay attention to the festival around him but mostly being consumed by frustration that he's stuck in a quaint little village somewhere in Varisia rather than on his way to explore the Land of Fallen Stars. He came to the festival in an attempt to learn something about Sandpoint, but it has only reinforced his impression that it is possibly the most generic town in the entire Inner Sea Region.
Hearing an announcement of a weight-lifting contest, he meanders over to watch the idiots waste their time raising heavy objects for no apparent reason. Cyrus tries amuse himself by mentally devising complex clockwork contraptions to most efficiently lift the weights.
As two heavily armoured figures step forward for the competition, Dohosa is surprised to see that one of them is some kind of humanoid reptile. The symbol of the Sword in the Mountain he bears marks him out as a Gorumite, which surprises him further.
Unusual enough to see Gorumites in these lands, let alone reptile ones. One to watch, he thinks to himself.
Dohosa finds himself standing next to a newcomer to Sandpoint, a man he has seen at the Rusty Dragon over the last few evenings. Initially he takes the man for some sort of smith, but seeing the bronze mask symbol of Brigh suggests that he might be a fellow holy man. "Seems inefficient, lifting those weights with muscle power alone," he remarks, hoping to draw the taller man into conversation.
Cyrus glances over at the small Pharasmin priest. He replies, "Yes, I would have to agree. I have never entirely understood why some people are so concerned with public displays of physical might. In my opinion, intelligence and magical proficiency are of much greater importance in most situations."
"In any case, it is at least mildly amusing to watch. Are you a native of this town, sir?"
The crowd parts for the first contender, and Felfiz has to catch his hat before it slides off his head. He uses his other hand to push his gaping mouth closed. That would be quite the perplexing challenge. In the unlikely event the thundering snake won, it would be upon the Darner pallet to capture him in the aspect of the fey, something unthinkably novel. Scandalous, even.
It's as he's gushing over whether he should stipple verdance over vanta black or mix indifference and starlight to match the motling of the scales that the two men interpose themselves on his view of the event.
Felfiz groans. "Excuse me, but some of us have divine callings to fulfill. I can't just spend all day on my rear end eating cotton'd candies like some kind of devlishly handsome layabout. Not anymore..." The gnome's voice takes on a wistful lilt. He's also sat in front of an obvious pile of candyfloss.
"I quite agree. There is nearly always a better magical option, especially for events like this. Not that most of my people would agree," Dohosa adds, somewhat morosely. "I'm not native here, no, though I have lived here for some months now." Any further thoughts are banished by a groan from behind.
"My apologies," he says, taken aback by the odd scene of the gnome with his large hat and pile of confectionary.
Turkas and Cole go to lift weights. That will be a strength check. Still working on npc interactions for this scene. Those of you familiar with the ap can pm me suggestions I will happily accept them.
The stranger in a strange land takes up a good stance no prepares to make his lift. Having done his daily devotion to Gorum to start the day he knows that Gorum will aid his strength this day.
Cyrus turns, raising one eyebrow at the oddly dressed gnome. "I apologize most profusely sir, though I am curious how your divine calling requires you to observe a pack of excessively burly imbeciles hoist heavy objects."
He glances back as the first contestant tries his hands at the weights. Huh. A surprisingly mediocre performance from one so seemingly mighty.
"I am Cardinal Felfiz Growmetheus Pellantheel Darner II. In the service of Shelyn, bringing beauty and wonder to all the people of the world is my-" Felfiz swallows distastefully. "duty."
The gnome works quickly with a stick of charcoal to capture the nigaji's form in his sketchbook. He's amazed at the display. Although, he has no frame of reference for the weights involved. Everything the contestants are doing is impossible in the eyes of the gnome.
Finds his way to the weights and observes his competition's lift.
I hope to the gods that lift was stunted by ale, that was pathetic
Cole approaches the weight for his own attempt.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"Pleased to meet you..." Dohosa says before trailing off, unsure how to address someone with so many names. "I am Dohosa, called Fate-Seer by my people."
A cry of disappointment from the crowd draws his attention back to competition as he sees the lizard-man struggle with the weights. The second compeititor does significantly better, and the crowd roars in approval as Dohosa shakes his head in confusion. Is that worthy of such great applause? he thinks bemusedly.
The chalk and charcoal fly as contenders try their hands at the weights. A figure is constructed on the gnome's tiny slate, disconcerting in its generic proportions, of a paragon of strength- a gender-less, race-less embodiment of lifting weights. "Oh, so you could tell me which one of them wins. That would save me some trouble."
"Though I can't truthfully say I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, I am . . . interested to meet someone with such a large name to height ratio. I am known as Cyrus Kaleem, an artisan-priest of the Whisperer in Bronze," Cyrus replies.
He walks around to see what Felfiz is sketching. Impressive creative ability, though unfortunate that it should be channeled into spreading colored materials onto canvas rather than something more useful, Cyrus thinks to himself.
Turkas grumbles as he walks away from the weight lifting competition. He stops at a nearby tent and gets a refill on his ale. "I might as well have something to drink to forget this poor performance."
After securing his refill he begins wondering through the festivities. He spots the gnome drawing the weight lifting competition and steps in his direction. "Make certain to keep my performance out of your drawing. Thank you."
A man steps up to the weights after Cole and smiles. That was impressive. I may not win this year. Then he grabs the weights and lifts.
That's exactly what I got on another table...
But the weights barely leave the ground. He sets them down, smiles, and walks away, while Mayor Deverin announces Cole as the winner.
Felfiz looks up at the towering reptilian and flashes a nervous smile. "I can certainly understand a need for privacy." He flips through his notes and pulls the reference sketches of Turkas, offering them to the sensitive brute. The sketches highlight the aesthetic of the nigaji's attempt in smooth lines and strong forms. Cultural difference aside, it's a flattering depiction.
Returning to his work, the gnome begins transferring his notes on Cole onto his chalk-lined model.
Cole raises his arms in victory. Then turns back to is competition, Turkas and the Sandpoint man and says.
How about we all go get a drink?
Cole motions for the others to follow and heads to where ale is served.
"Where does he think he's headed? I haven't mixed his pallet yet!" Felfiz picks up his eisel and stuffs it into Cyrus's arms, gathers up his paints and stuffs them in Dohosa's arms, then scoops up his candy and scampers off after Cole.
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The victor appears pleased with himself, and Dohosa's bemused look does nothing to dampen the man's enthusiasm.
He is taken aback as a box of painting supplies is thrust at him by the gnome, who scampers off after the strongmen towards the Rusty Dragon. Dohosa looks round at Cyrus with confusion. "I'm not sure I'm the packhorse that Cardinal Felfiz thinks I am. Though I'm willing to try if there's an ale in it," he says with a small smile, before following the gnome through the crowd.
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"I suppose I'll come along as well," Cyrus responds. "I'm not much of a drinker, but watching the cardinal's antics is probably the most interesting thing to do at this festival." He trots off after the other clerics.
Turkas turns a grin to Cole. "Now that sounds like a lovely idea." Turkas joins Cole in the search for ale.
Speaking to Cole as they move about in the hunt of fine libations. "I am Turkas." he says as he introduces himself to Cole and extends his gauntleted hand. "That was a mighty fine lift there sir. Congratulations on winning the weight lifting contest."
Cole notices the outreached hand and takes it in his own.
Only wanted a drink but why not check him for weapons.
Seeing as his friend is properly armed and ready to take up arms and fight properly. Returns with respect his name.
I'm Cole, Thank you for the congratulations. Honestly, I only did it to wake myself up from the haze those speeches pulled me into.
Cole pauses for a moment, then smiles as though inspired.
Now Turkas is it? Are you willing to continue the fun with a drinking contest?
Dohosa arrives behind the two strongmen and the gnome, just in time to hear the words 'drinking contest'. He groans internally at the suggestion, and looks for a spare table to set down Felfiz's paints. "Do you need these, or can I leave them here?" he asks Felfiz, hoping that he's not going to be roped into being the small man's painting assistant.
Felfiz climbs up onto the table and dumps his candy beside the paints. He turns toward Cole and Turkas and frames the area with the thumb and forefinger of both hands. "This is a great spot, thank you." The gnome settles down to mix paints.
To the strongmen, Felfiz announces with practiced formality: "Good day, I am Cardinal Felfiz Growmetheus Pellantheel Darner II, here to capture your likeness for posterity. This is Dozer the Sooth-sayer, and Caleb, the cultural appropriator. Please, allow me to buy the first round. What are we drinking? Cordial? Mead? Zinfandel?"
Seeing the man take the gesture as it was met Cole is rewarded with a smirk. "A drinking contest sounds like a fine idea. What are the stakes?"
Hearing the clatter of the gnome's livelihood hit the table nearby Turkas swivels his head round to take a look. His eyes narrow momentarily until he realizes that the gnome is not preparing to cause any issues with his odd finger gestures. "That is far to long a name for a mouth so small to speak. May I just call you Fel instead? I will have a mead. Thank you." Turkas takes a moment to try to figure out who is who between the other two names given by the small man as he did not indicate which is which during his diatribe. Finally he decides that if it matters it will make itself apparent later. "Will any of you be joining us in this drinking contest?" Turkas gestures to the others and then to himself and Cole as he speaks.
Before Cole can state the terms he'd been thinking for the contest he's distracted by the gnome with name so long Cole had forgotten the beginning of it by the end, a his two companions with far more reasonable names. Then musing to himself, "The artist, the fortune teller, and the junk collector walk in to a bar...hmm" Cole pauses for a moment. "Hahaha I think I've heard that one before."
Cole turns to address the drink offer,
Cardinal I think I'll take mead too, honey always makes the day better.
And almost forgetting the reason for coming into the tavern, Cole returns to the matter at hand with Turkas.
The terms are, we drink until one of us passes out and that unlucky soul is left with the bar bill for the contest. What do you say?
The bar is mostly empty, most people being at the festival on the other side of town. A few people sit at the other tables, talking in hushed whispers. Lots of noise is coming from the kitchen. A slips out the door to the kitchen, revealing a flurry of activity. She makes her way to your table and asks what you guys would like to drink.
"It's Dohosa, but I suppose Dozer is close," Dohosa says, stretching out a hand to Cole. After shaking the man's hand, he turns back to Felfiz.
"A dark ale please," he says, not recognising the names of some of the more outlandish beverages the gnome suggests.
"A mead for myself and him." I say as I gesture at Cole. "And what is that racket coming from your establishments kitchen?"
So everyone, are we all participating? The stakes go up with each contestant.
At the barest possibility that the suggestion might interfere with his work, Felfiz volunteers. "Yes, of course. Why not? Mead here as well."
"Nothing for me," Cyrus says. "I have no desire to impair my mental faculties by drinking a neurotoxin."
"In addition, I feel I should clarify that I am typically known as Cyrus, despite whatever Felfiz may claim."
"I don't drink competitively, only recreationally. I don't have the constitution for it," Dohosa says. "Just the one pint for me. For now at least."
The barmaid nods at the orders. She turns to Turkas when he asks his question. We are preparing the lunch service for the festival.
Cyrus glances around at the others. "So, what brings you fine people to Sandpoint for this quaint little festival?"
"I've lived here for a few months. I left my people to learn more of the Lady of Graves, to expand my horizons, and to better myself before I return to my spiritual home," Dohosa explains. The blue and black Shoanti tattoos covering his bald head serve to make it obvious which people he speaks of.
"I'm here at the festival to experience more of what this town has to offer. Looking at ruins, reading, and meditating is all very well, but it's not much fun."
Cole listening to Dohosa's explanation asks when he's finished, "If it's not much fun then why do it? I came here on a job escorting a caravan through Varisia. The caravan leaders seem jumpy about an organized bandit group in the area and then I stayed for the festival. I assumed the festival was going to be fun but that didn't get exciting until recently."
Cole looks around the room at the little group they have. Then adds, "Now it looks like fun might start happening."
I'll drink them under the table... Oh if only a nice brawl would break out.. if only.
"I'm in Sandpoint because a very nice little half-blood girl wanted her portait done so it could be sent to to a lord in Nybor. She'll like it better there. I'm at the festival because who doesn't go to a festival." His tone is so incredulous that it turns the question into a statement.
"Because I am trying to better myself, so that I can better my people," Dohosa replies, trying to explain himself. "I do have fun sometimes, it's just that my work and my learning have to be my priorities."