Felfiz smacks his lips after his sixth drink. "What are we drinking to a-again? We can hardly expect the unconscious to-" The gnome hiccups. "-to pay bar tabs." Seeing the other two go for a seventh mug, Felfiz checks his purse. He has no concept of how much he's holding, but he wants to make sure it's there. The poor in these parts have an awful habit of walking off without telling you that you've paid alms, and it has made keeping track of one's pocket change irritating.
"Easy there Felfiz, I think the alcohol might be affecting you.." as Cole waves his hand in the gnome's general direction a little too wildly for even is own comfort.
And me too apparently
Feliz has only failed 2 saves and thus is only in stage II.
But then he fails a third and enters stage III. That means a -2 to all stats for hours and lose the +2 to physical attributes from stage 1. Also, make another fortitude save DC 17 or go unconcious for hours.
"Felfiz, Felfiz" Cole attempts to get the attention of the gnome. After another moment of of examination, "Sorry friend but it looks like you lose, drinks are on you."
-Posted with Wayfinder
Turkas gives the gnome a shake. "Felfiz...I do believe the little one is unconscious." Turkas flags down the waitress. "The little one will be covering the bill for the drinks. Just let him know how much the tab is when he wakes. I promise he will be good for it"
Yes indeed at a -2 (-1 from Stage II, and an additional -1 from Stage III.)
You are unconscious.
The gentle thump of Felfiz's head hitting the table alerts Dohosa to the end of the drinking contest. "Are we done now?" he asks, a tone of exasperation creeping into his voice.
Hearing Dohosa, Cole responds, "I'm satisfied. That was rather fun put my constitution on the line. I'm sure Felfiz will recover though I don't envy the headache he'll have."
Cole gets up gathers his things and finds the barmaid. "Drinks are on our gnome friend there," pointing the the unconscious companion. "Also how much would it cost for me to buy a room for him to sleep off his condition?"
"Well, that was a fairly predictable outcome," Cyrus says as he returns Logic of Design to his backpack. "Perhaps we should return to the festival and see if there's anything more interesting than weightlifting going on before Cole or Turkas gets into a fight."
"Oh... Come on Cyrus. A fight could be just the thing needed to speed up the alcohol processing through my body. Besides it could be fun." Turkas gets a big grin on his face as he finishes speaking.
The barmaid agrees to 2gp for the Gnome to stay for the day.
Where would you like to go next? Keep in mind, there are still festivities going on in the festival.
"Maybe there's a debate or a discussion we can participate in outside," Dohosa says, clearly aiming it more at Cyrus than the slightly wobbly Gorumites. "Something a little more intellectual than self-poisoning, at any rate."
Cole hands the barmaid 2gp for the stay. "Our friend will settle the drinking bill when he awakes, just remind him." Then Cole moves Felfiz and his gear to place he's directed to by the barmaid.
When Cole returns he says,"I'm going back to the festivities. I want to see if there's a tug of war or other such field game underway."
Cole signals for the rest of the group to follow if they want and leaves the tavern to find out what the town is up to.
"Yes, let's head back to the festival," Cyrus agrees as he follows Cole. "Turkas, I think you're out-voted. No bar fights for the moment."
Turkas lets out a sigh of regret and follows along to see what else the festival might have.
Dohosa stands, waving his thanks to the barmaid, and follows the others out.
Having exited the tavern, Cyrus strolls about the festival, looking for anything which might be of interest.
Turkas staggers along. He seems attracted to just about every strong smell he takes note of along the way and tries wandering towards them unless someone keeps him from wandering off.
Cyrus does his best to gently corral Turkas and prevent him from getting into trouble without angering the drunken warrior.
How did I get roped into dealing with these people again? he mentally wonders.
Cole notices Turkas's movements. And after assessing his own stomach. Food would be good. There has to be a meat pie, grilled corn or some other such thing around here. But if I find a tug of war, hammer throw, arm wrestling, or magic show. I'm there.
Cole begin searching the festival for treats or entertainment.
Felfiz rolls off his cot and thumps onto the floor where he begins a fresh pool of drool.
Sorry folks, Paizo was giving me trouble and I was not able to warn you that I would be out of town all this week.
Lunchtime begins. Local bars bring their meals to the festival goers, in an effort to advertise their goods. The most popular dish is Amieko's curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead overshadow Hagfish's lobster chowder or White Deer's peppercorn venison.
After viewing the edible options, Cyrus decides to try the venison despite its lesser popularity.
Smelling the strong scent of curry in the air Turkas mouth begins to water and he quickly makes his way to the poplar stand. "Come on! Move it folks. Other people would like to be to get some to."
After what seems to be an agonizingly long wait in line Turkas is finally able to get his plate of curry spiced salmon. "You all have to try this. It is fantastic!" he tells everyone between bites.
The smell of roasting venison evokes memories of home and the feasts held to honour the ancestors of his people, and Dohosa is irresistibly drawn to the stall. "One portion of venison please," he asks, beginning to salivate at the sight of the hunks of meat and the delicious peppery sauce.
"I've never really liked spicy dishes myself," Cyrus replies to Turkas as he waits in line.
Finally, he receives the perfectly done venison and digs in. "Excellent!" Cyrus exclaims. "At least this backwater has good food."
Cole is distracted by the smell of chowder and finds his way over to the vendor. When he gets his bowl, he digs in without saying a word to the others.
After finishing the bowl Cole is lost in thought, what was I doing before eating?
Cole finds his way back to Turkas, Dohsa, and Cyrus. "I'm done eating and I've forgotten what I wanted to do before I was distracted, do you happen to remember?"
Turkas sits contentedly on a nearby bench licking his plate clean of any morsels he may have missed while initially consuming his meal. "You all really should try the salmon. It is not overly spicy." Turkas wipes a bit of sauce off of his nose after he finishes speaking. "Now all we need is a nice drink to wash this all down with."
"Cole!' Turkas takes a moment to ponder Cole's question. "Hmmm...I don't think there was anything of significance you wanted to do. Perhaps if we wander about the festivities it will jog your memory."
Dohosa licks the venison juices off his fingers as the group reconvenes. "I agree," he says to Turkas. "Let's have a look around and see what else the festival has to offer."
Cole shrugs, "Ok lets look around but no more speeches, if we can avoid them."
Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon into the festivites, and begin their story. The story talks about how Desna fell to the earth, and was nursed back to health by a blind child who she turned into an immortal butterfly, they release thousands of butterflies into the air.
"Not more speeches.." Cole remarks as he joins the crowd listening to Father Zantus
Felfiz rolls under the bed, dragging the blanket with him and rolling himself into a gnomeish burrito.
"Personally I would rather be blind than a butterfly, but I suppose it's a nice gesture all the same," Cyrus comments as he wipes venison juice from his chin.
A slow thumping sound can be heard from a nearby table. If you look you will see Turkas slowly and methodically banging his head off of the table during the speech. "Why, why, why?! I thought we were done with speeches." Turkas sighs and rests his head on the table until the Desnan priest finishes speaking.
If one of the released butterflies happens to come near Turkas will try to snag it out of the air.
The butterfly gets away from Turkas, although he is not the only one. Kids all over are chasing butterflies, but to no avail.
Cyrus gets up and searches the festival for anything else of note, observing the beauty of the butterflies' flight as they disperse.
I think I've waste enough time here. Unless I find something fascinating, I really should head back to my room and plan my route, Cyrus decides as he walks.
Turkas lurches up and away from the table. "Well this festival is a bust. No good competitions, no acts worth viewing, and multiple dull speeches. What a waste." Turkas stumbles away mumbling to himself about the lack of excitement in this fly speck of a village.
Dohosa listens intently to Father Zantus' story, enjoying the opportunity to learn more about a religion he knows little about. The release of the butterflies seems overly theatrical but adds to the festival atmosphere.
"They've not all been dull speeches," Dohosa says in response to Turkas' complaint. "But I agree - I've been to more exciting festivals."
Cole follows after Turkas wondering Maybe Turkas would like to drink and arm wrestle?
Then says, "Hey Turkas I have an idea of a competition that can be done with a beer in had and it doesn't involve getting drunk, you in?"
"More competitions? Don't you Gorumites ever just sit back and relax?" Dohosa asks, baffled.
"Of course we do. It happens naturally at the end of battles. Today just happens to be rather boring so we are actively trying to improvise our own entertainment."
"Turkas is right, I grow restless if I don't burn off some energy," Cole confirms.
-Posted with Wayfinder
"What is your competition idea then? I confess to being rather curious, despite the high probability of your contest being of a sadly juvenile nature," Cyrus inquires.
Cole smirks and says, "Well Cyrus since you are so interested, how do you feel about arm wrestling? I am taking challengers."
"Assuming you're not going to allow me to design and build a mechanical apparatus to augment my strength, the outcome is essentially a foregone conclusion, but I suppose I'll try anyway. It's not like there's anything better to do here," Cyrus replies.
Felfiz hacks up a sweater knit from candyfloss.
Arm wrestling will require strength checks.
Once he finds an open table or other suitable flat surface, Cyrus sits down and braces himself for the struggle.
This isn't really your portfolio, but any help would be appreciated, Cyrus mentally informs Brigh.