Rhanloi - 22
A'letta - 20
Xogar - 16
Loruk - 15
Khalbar - 13
Arturus - 11
Kyra - 10
Pick - 7
Xogar is the first to act, and he yells to the mounted goblin, "You there! You dare to intrude on Sandpoint? You will fall unmourned!" The goblin widens his eyes at the charging, armored half-orc's words and almost seems to shift backwards in his saddle in an attempt to get farther away. The other goblins turn their heads and their sadistic smiles to Loruk's words, and they creep towards him as Arturus' arrow lands among them, striking none.
Rhanloi's quarterstaff clatters to the ground and he whips out his crossbow with great speed. Firing it, he takes the frontline goblin right in the back. The goblin cries out in pain. A glowing light covers Khalbar, emanating from A'letta's hand and the spirits she invokes to protect him. Khalbar positions himself for a charge and begins his war song, while Kyra leaps straight into the fray, delivering devastating blows to open air.
Pick leaps forward and covetously covers the cat from gaze before scooping it up in his arms. He's very ready to run away with his prize to some hidey-hole.
Seeing the goblins advance, a sorrowful frown paints itself on Loruk's face. He prepares both himself and his blade as he rushes forward, bringin his blade down upon the first goblin that crosses his path.
Move action - Reload light crossbow.
Standard action - Target the same goblin he just hit...
Standard action - Cast Daze on attacker.
Move action- Reload light crossbow.
The duergar is so occupied with his cat, belly rumbling in an anticipatory fashion, that he does not notice any threat in the square....
The Bloodsong escapes his lips as Khal starts to rage. Gathering speed he charges at the nearest goblin warrior threatening the local barkeep. He avoids the one in combat with Kyra and if possible the one Rhanloi has shot, focusing one not engaged yet.
The axe swishes impressively through the air slicing the goblin in a completely traumatic way.
A'letta joins the fray and attempts to skewer a goblin. A feigned shield bash into a spear thrust into the soft underbelly rocks the world of one of the green menaces.
Hearing Khalbar's song and seeing him slice clear through a goblin inspires Kyra, who follows suit and delivers some fatal blows to the one she missed.
Arturus curses quietly under his breath, takes a few steps forward towards the edge of the roof, and takes a second to focus his aim.
Rhanloi - 22
A'letta - 20
Xogar - 16
Loruk - 15
Khalbar - 13
Arturus - 11
Kyra - 10
Pick - 7
Ameiko - 1
The goblin rider, fearful though he is of Xogar, still rides forward to attack him. His horsechopper comes up, and comes down on open air while his mount rears up and clamps down teeth on the same open air. Another goblin comes to back up the goblin dog, but his dogslicer only gets caught in Xogar's armor. Loruk isn't so lucky as the two goblins that come to engage him strike him on the arms and chest . Xogar roars, raises his sword, and catches the rider in the chest with it. The rider remains on his mount, though. Loruk swings his own sword and cleanly downs one of the goblins attacking him. Arturus' arrow misses yet again, landing in the dirt among the goblins.
Snarling, three of the goblins move to engage the group of adventurers come to the rescue of the innkeeper, while the other two continue to accost the now-upright woman. Kyra is engaged by two, while Khalbar is attacked by one. The dagger of the one attacking Khalbar goes straight through his armor into his flesh , while all other attacks are deflected, miss, or are buried in armor. Rhanloi nails the one he already hit, one attacking Ameiko, with another bolt, killing it. A'letta moves up to support Kyra and stabs her spear through one of them. Khalbar roars in rage at being injured and swings his spear upward, bringing it down on the goblin. He bifurcates it perfectly, starting at the top of the head and ending in the groin. Kyra doesn't disappoint either, striking first the one that A'letta stabbed and then the one on the other side, pummeling them both to the ground. Ameiko draws a dagger from within her sleeve and strikes the other goblin attacking her, stabbing right into its ear, but impossibly it stays standing.
The goblin that Pick didn't notice retrieves its dogslicer from the ground and creeps towards him...raising its dogslicer above his head, ready to strike...then it falls right down onto its chest, causing a racket and a thump that Pick easily notices.
Loruk roars in pain, the goblins' dogslicer tears through his armor and wets it with a crimson tide spewing forth from his wound.
He takes advantage of the momentum from his previous strike, and as the blade is about to reach the dirt, spewing the slain goblins' blood onto the ground, he twists his body in the motion and brings the blade back upwards in an arc; aimed directly for the goblin that tore up his chest.
His blade fumbles as another dogslicer tears into his arm, and the blade halts in mid-swing.
With a swing Xogar attempts to finish the riding goblin he hit before.
"The fury of Iomedae is upon you, foul wretch!"
Move action - Reload light crossbow.
Standard action - Target the last goblin.
(shooting into melee)
Rhanloi quickly reloads his crossbow and tries to pick off the last remaining goblin attacking the innkeeper, but in the swirl of their attacks he dares not shoot any closer for fear of hitting the wrong target, and thus fires wide.
With just 1 target left in sight, Khalbar's rage continues unabated. He whirls and brings his over-sized axe in on a sideswipe against the goblin.
The duergar wheels from his looting when the scuff of the goblin's foot alerts him. Behind the polished circles of smoked glass, his red-tinged eyes narrow, and his scarred lips draw back again from his teeth.
"Kh'than nakht tal ghoun, kassik," he says in a soft, hoarse whisper. It is no matter to him that the goblin probably does not speak the tongue of the deeps; that the goblin will not understand his words about how it should have remained dead.
He draws the pick that hangs in a leather strap at his waist. A tool of miners, originally; but the deep clans have made it into a weapon. The sharp head of the pick will pierce flesh as easily as it will rock.
When the last goblin goes down A'letta immediately looks at her companions. She sees the wounds on Kyra and Khalbar and asks,"Are you fit enough to go on? Or must I tend to your wounds."
Kyra looks down at the red splatter across her torso, as if noticing it for the first time. With the adrenaline beginning to wear off, it occurs to her how badly it hurts. She sucks in a breath and tries not to wince in pain.
She opened her mouth to accept the woman's offer and then paused, thought for a second, and finally smiled, shaking her head. "There may be others far more wounded than us. Save your magic for them."
His raging blood subsiding, Khalbar says to the Shoanti woman: "It is a scratch, I will be fine for now." He nods appreciation for her magicks and looks to Rhanloi making sure is unharmed from the chaos around.
Rhanloi will check the bodies of the goblins - lookiong for identifying trinkets, charms, or any clue why they are here or who lead them and how they got here. Oh...and for anything valuable or worth trading or keeping. While he is doing this, he addresses the inkeeper, "Mistress Ameiko, are you well? You fought well - better than keeping order in your establishment should warrant. Perhaps you will tell us some of the tales about how and where you learned to fight after this mess is cleaned up?"
Rhanloi - 22
A'letta - 20
Xogar - 16
Loruk - 15
Khalbar - 13
Arturus - 11
Kyra - 10
Pick - 7
Ameiko - 1
Each of the goblins - including the mount - seems to have some trouble approaching the pair of half-orcs close enough to strike. The rider's horsechopper only hits air, the mount snaps his mouth shut too soon and only hits Xogar with snout, and the other two goblins simply swing their dogslicers through empty air without approaching first. Xogar, on the other hand, has no trouble moving close and slicing through the rider's chest, felling him as he falls from the saddle. Loruk is too distracted by pain to strike effectively, but Arturus makes up for it with an accurate bow strike to the one fighting Loruk's shoulder.
Rhanloi's bolt goes wide, but that's hardly relevant as Khalbar's spinning attack decapitates the last goblin. Looking around, it seems as though the battle is winding down around the whole town.
Picking up her blade, an exquisite mithril rapier, she sighs and respond to Rhanloi. "Perhaps I will."
Standing up straight, the beautiful Tian woman smiles. "You know, you're rather impressive. Perhaps you would accept an offer of free rooms at the Rusty Dragon? I have to repay you somehow for your help."
Although the town is quieting down, sounds of battle can still be heard from the north, and Ameiko's keen ears perk up at the sound of clashing swords. "Hold off on that, there's still more to be done!" before she rushes off to the north.
Running through the square, she spots the duergar with his pick still embedded in the goblin's head and, while running past him, shouts "You there, dwarf! There's still more work to be done, come with me!"
Quickly defending his kill, Pick spins on a dime, pulling out his namesake weapon, and impales the goblin's head with it. It's not just playing dead this time, and lies still. The square is silent once again.
Loruk attempts to regain his footing, and as he does - he swings his blade with frightful force, the blade sweeping towards the goblin that cut his chest open.
"Po pmuut p' pmuut n'buot."
The duergar freezes at the top-sider's words as she runs past him, his heart suddenly hammering in his ribcage in a way that the danger of the goblin attack had not been capable of causing.
Seen me, seen me, they've seen me, his mind shrieks. He forces himself to take a slow, deep breath.
Dwarf, the female had called him. Unknowingly she insults him, mistaking him for one of distant, ignorant cousins that dwell so much closer to the burning eye.
Yet, the mistake saves him, he knows: if she thinks he is a dwarf, he lives. It is that simple.
Now what? Half his instincts urge him to run, now: seek out the shadows. He had been a fool to go into the exposed square to grab his cat. He should flee.
The other half of his instincts respond to the order in the woman's voice.
There's still more work to be done, come with me.
He stands frozen a half-second, shuddering slightly beneath his heavy robes. An order. A guide. Months now he's been without such-- after years of always knowing his purpose, of being told what he was to do. Since he left the clan he has been blind, in a sense: fumbling forward in the dark for nothing better than survival, like an animal. The nameless female's order strikes right to his core and orients his world, briefly, as powerful as a lodestone's draw to north.
His brain says Fool, they will have no use for you on seeing your nature. Run. Run now.
But his feet have already jerked him from his moment of torn dilemma. Be useful again. Have purpose again. Go. Kill the screaming goblins.
He runs after the woman, blind beneath the sun.
Khalbar shrugs at Rhanloi as if to say: "Women, what are you gonna do?" and then rushes off after the lithe innkeeper to see what more trouble he can solve in one day.
The oracle follows the innkeeper, wondering just how many horrors they must face this day.
After checking the goblin bodies, Rhanloi quickly retrieves any usable bolts, reloads his crossbow, picks his quarterstaff up off of the ground, and runs to catch up with his group.
On the way through the main area, he stops to check on the two prisoners to see if they by chance have woken yet from his spell, and to ensure the bindings remain tight. "An exciting afternoon, to be sure!"
Xogar switches to attacking the goblin that has been hitting Loruk and attempts to maneuver past the dogslicer to take a swing.
" Save one! We'll need to question them, if possible! "
Arturus nocks an arrow, but holds it loosely.
Rhanloi - 22
A'letta - 20
Xogar - 16
Loruk - 15
Khalbar - 13
Arturus - 11
Kyra - 10
Pick - 7
Ameiko - 1
Pick, A'letta, Rhnaloi, Khalbar and Kyra lope after the running innkeeper to the aid of more of the city's defenders, only just now evenly numbered against the goblins they'd been fighting.
The goblin and the dog in front of Xogar each try to strike at him, and the goblin gets past his defenses to draw blood . Xogar and Loruk each switch targets, pivoting at the same time to strike and kill the goblin that threatens the other one.
The goblin dog yelps, having been robbed of all of his owners, and runs.
All around the town, the battle is coming to an end. A few goblins leap off of Junker's Edge to prevent being caught, a few make it out of the town, but many, many more lie dead (along with a few unfortunate festival-goers). The two goblins that Rhanloi ensorcelled still lie snoring and tied up (although they won't be asleep for long).
Ameiko slows down, catches her breath, and claps a few times. "Thank you, all, for helping to defend my home city. Please, allow me to treat you all at my tavern to free rooms and free food."
Sweat drips from Loruk's brow as he sheathes his sword and leans backward, stretching his back. He takes a deep breath before he walks over to the goblins, searching through their belongings - and once he finds a potion, he tosses it over to Xogar and smiles. "I think you've earned one of these."
He takes a look around, clearly displeased with the turmoil and horror surrounding him. "I'm not really in the mood for celebrating, but I thank you for the offer Ameiko. I need to set my mind straight, I'll see the rest of you over at the Dragon in a little while."
Wandering off towards Fatman's Feedbag, he turns to give the other combatants a short glare before he strides onward - headed for the only place he finds comfort in Sandpoint, the roof atop the Feedbag.
The duergar considers a dogslicer valuable. He grabs one, his hand retreating swiftly into his robes as soon as allowed.
He lurks on the very edge of those gathered, head down, hood drawn over it, desperately attempting not to attract attention or inspection from the others. Free food, the woman says, and his belly rumbles.
He can make do with the cat, surely. Even though the thought of freshly-cooked, properly prepared food makes him lick his lips beneath the hood.
He says nothing aloud, lest his words draw attention to himself. A grunt and a duck of his hooded head in acknowledgment of the woman's words. Behind the tinted glass, his eyes dart warily to the others and around the plaza, seeking escape routes as necessary.
"Someone want to help me get these two sleeping goblins secured in the city lock-up before the effects of my spell wear off and they become...harder to handle?" Rhanloi points down at the two sleeping and tied goblins at his feet. "Once we get these creatures secured, I for one will be happy to take you up on your offer," he says to the Innkeeper. "After some cleaning and a hot meal we'll all feel much better!"
The point-ears' words offer an escape of sorts: he can busy himself in the task, and be less seen. The short, cloaked figure hurries over to the unconscious goblins and darts stubby fingers into his battered rucksack for the rope he keeps there.
It's a fine rope, one of the relics he has of the craftsmanship of his own people. He had better get it back, he thinks darkly.
He knots the rope thoroughly around the goblins' skinny wrists and ankles, working soundlessly, keeping an eye on the top-siders as he goes.
Xogar flashes a grin. "Thanks. You did well yourself."
He address Ameiko after she speaks.
"That is a most generous offer. Iomedae appreciates your kindness to us all. I accept. Although I will need to freshen up before I sit down to eat. For now, the town needs to be assessed and the citizens comforted and cared for. When I have reasonably satisfied that task I will come to the tavern to relax for a bit."
The tall woman didn't know how to feel. Yes, they had fought off the goblin invasion, but she knew more destruction was coming. Sometimes, she realized, you should consider yourself lucky when you haven't yet found the source of the omens. Or when free drinks and food is being promised to you!
A'letta smiled at Ameiko and nodded. "I accept your offer. Let us drink and wash away today's events with wine and ale. I hope all that were present here..", and she eyes all her companions,".. will be present tonight. It might sound silly, but I think the Spirit called Desna would like that."
Ameiko nods her head, pleased at your responses, and takes off, joining her employees in cleaning up her festival stall. The festival is clearly over, the citizens of Sandpoint retreat to their homes to recover. There are, unfortunately, a few dead bodies of festival-goers, and they're sadly being picked up by Abstalar Zantus' initiates and brought into the new cathedral. Zantus himself is casting the consecrate by himself - obviously it still must be done, but afterwards he wanders over to the group of Sandpoint's new defenders. "I saw you fighting the goblins...good job, I must say. I do have, within me, a bit of healing power left. Do you need healing?"
Rhanloi and Pick wrestle with the fortunately tied-up goblins after they wake up, and hand them over to a gratefully nearby Sheriff Hemlock and a wagon of captured goblins.
The rescued nobleman stands up from behind his barrel to tearfully look at his dead hunting dog. Tearing his gaze away, he turns to his rescuers to thank them. "I would be dead if not for you, these goblins would likely have slit my throat and set me on fire. Thank you. Thank you so much. You're a hero." He's very pointedly staring at Kyra, even though she didn't kill any of the goblins directly threatening him, he walks to her, takes her hand, and kisses it. "Perhaps a beautiful woman such as you should not be putting yourself in harm's way. I'll see you all again another time." with that, he strides away.
The cloaked, short figure darts furtive glances at the elf as they work. Point-ears are perceptive, they say. Drow-cousins. Sharp eyes, magic-words. He must be very careful.
They look so strange, though, compared to the drow. Skin sickly-pale rather than the ebon so common in the Underdark.
Soon enough the goblins are shoved into the wagon.
Now. Now he should flee.
The voice of the spear-woman cuts across his one-track thoughts. Dez'nah? Who is this Dez'nah, who wishes his presence? One of the hyrkhni, the weak-gods, so revered by the top-siders in their ignorance of the true God of the world.
Why does Dez'nah wish him to be there? What does Dez'nah care about one of his tribe? Perhaps the spear-woman lies.
Torn between keeping a paranoid eye on the spear-woman and the drow-cousin, he flicks his gaze between them both.
Foolishness. The gods do not want anyone, even the weak-gods. All you can do before the Powers are get out of their way and pray they do not notice you. He knows this to be true.
What man feigns such weakness in an attempt at winning the attention of a woman?! A'letta's expression is hidden behind her mask, but the cold stare that she throws at the nobleman as he walks away is quite apparent.
When they hand the goblins over, Rhanloi informs the sheriff that he speaks goblin and would be willing to help in the interrogation. He thinks to himself he also knows a few magic spells that could be useful in extracting information...but that knowledge is better kept close to the vest.
Turning to the small cloaked figure who helped him carry the prisoners, Rhanloi smiles and extends his hand in greetings, saying, "Thank you, little friend. I have not had the pleasure of formally meeting you. My name is Rhanloi Ehlyss, a wizard and purveyor of magical books and items. Those are rather interesting eye-covers you wear. I would love to hear all about them at the Rusty Dragon later! I have met so few dwarves - or are you perhaps a Halfling? It is difficult to tell under that heavy cloak! Ah, but excuse my wagging tongue - don't mean to be rude. Come - let us get cleaned up, enjoy a hearty meal and some spirits, and you can tell me your tale!"
Khal accepts the offer of free food and lodging from the female innkeeper.
When the priest appears Khalbar says:"I have minor wounds, but will survive. Use your spirit magic on these hurt people."
He goes to A'letta and asks in Shoanti:[spoiler=Shoanti]"What brings an honored sister of the People to this place? It is no safe place even with walls and soldiers."
Behind those 'interesting' eye-covers the duergar's red-tinged eyes are kind of... crossing, at the babbling stream of words coming from the drow-cousin's mouth.
That is so much noise. From one creature. Aimed his direction.
He stands frozen, blinking a few times behind his goggles and resisting the urge to physically cover his ears.
The cat? He cannot have the cat. The cat is his. The goblin knife? Also his; fair spoils of war.
Seconds tick by and then he remembers something he has seen the townspeople do: they touch empty hands, as a greeting. Some signifier behind it, probably. If he is to continue this deception, he should probably attempt the custom.
The duergar lifts his gloved hand and touches his palm very briefly to the elf's, his hand retreating as quickly as possible. It is the first time he has touched another species in anything other than violent contact. He wonders if he should burn the glove. Top-siders have diseases.
Top-siders also expect words, don't they. Hell's boils. They touch hands, and they say names (another stupid, indulgent, surface-dwelling fantasy, like their weak-gods). The point-ears will want a name.
In the Deep, there are no names. He was you, or male-of-the-people. In the Deep, hands are used as much as words: gestures, signals, anything that removes unnecessary noise.
His hand, which drew back from the drow-cousin's, has settled on the head of his still-bloody pick, semi-consciously seeking the security that the weapon provides to him. His tagkhan-- what is the surface word? 'Pick'.
It makes as much sense to him as any of the other names they use for themselves. (Ran-loy Ehlllsss... so pointlessly long.)
"Pick," he says, since the point-ears is still waiting. His voice is a hoarse whisper. "Name is... Pick."
A'letta is sipping wine from a glass. She's amazed by the craftsmanship and the otherwise simple glass looks like a real treasure to the Shoanti woman. When Khalbar joins her she gets pulled out of her thoughts and she smiles at him, wondering if he really wants to know. "The song of the spirits brought me here. Their whispers were hard to hear back home, but the closer I got to Sandpoint, the better I could comprehend what they were saying. And now, the signs are starting to become so apparent that even an untrained seer can read them."
She sighs and apologizes with a hand gesture. "But tonight we should celebrate. Signs are just that, indicators of where we could go. But it is up to us to decide where we end up going. And today's events instilled a sense of faith in me that we can overcome the brewing storm."
Kyra struggles not to laugh at the nobleman's flattery, knowing it would be rude, but finding his statement ridiculous. 'We're all in harms way, every single day. I just embrace it.' But she doesn't say that. Most noblemen work their entire lives to stay away from that. He wouldn't understand wanting to surround yourself with it. It's why her family was superior.
It's why they'd one day rule over all of this.
She turned towards A'letta as the nobleman walks away, asking her "Tell me: Are men the same everywhere?"
When they get to the inn, she seats herself with Khalbar and A'letta, looking somewhat annoyed when they begin speaking in a language that she doesn't understand. She glares into her glass of water.
Khalbar smiles when Kyra joins them and tries to apologize for excluding her from their conversation.
"Sorry, my speaking not good in your tongue. Better to speak Shoanti to be clear. I am asking why Sister is in this place. Have same question for you, Girl-Who-Kills-With-Fists."
After cleaning the dust from his hands and face and stowing his gear in the room, Rhanloi comes down to the common room. Looking around, he spots his travelling companion already seated with the two women who fought the goblins threatening the innkeeper. Catching the barkeep's eye, he orders a round for that table and walks over, asking, "May I join this brawny collection of fighting prowess? Khalbar I know from weeks on the road together. I believe your names are Kyra and...Eletta...did I pronounce that correctly?"
Rhanloi did not hear the previous conversations, so he will listen for a while before commenting further...remembering his father's quip about a '10 minute rule'.
Dez'nah wants him to go to this meeting-place. Ran-loy wants him to go. The woman who had given him the orders wants him to go. His belly, it must be admitted, wants him to go. (Food? Food.)
His brain doesn't, but his brain's in the minority.
In the end, it's the sense of needing a purpose again that drags his feet. For a brief period, he had felt like himself again: working in concert with others, seeking a common goal, having a focus to his existence.
Without this, he is one cog spinning pointlessly in the void.
The purpose these top-siders follow is shrill and incoherent and pointless, to Pick's thinking. Killing little goblins? It is almost meaningless compared to the Purpose that he used to serve, the Purpose he has abandoned.
But it's better than nothing.
So he goes. Creeps along, once dusk has fallen, to the meeting-place, and tries to slip in the door unnoticed. His plan is to sidle into a corner and eavesdrop... but, well, plans. The gods make jests of them.
Rhanloi is probably the only one who got close enough to him before to notice an addition to his person: 'Pick' has found a fringe of grey fur, somewhere (possibly cut from the goblin warchanter's dirty cloak?) and, uh, attempted to stick it to the lower half of his face by means of some wax.
(Look. He knows surface-dwarves have hair on their faces, okay. He is Trying to Fit In. It's not his fault he's the world's crappiest disguise artist ever.)
Loruk sits atop the Feedbag, trying to wrap his head around what had happened. Why would the goblins attack this town, where did they find either the bravery or the stupidity to launch such an assault on an established town like this.
He sighs heavily, lowering his head as his feet dangle off the rooftop.
At least many brave men and women answered the call to battle. Where did they come from though, I haven't seen most of them around before - well except Arturus but that's a whole other story..
Loruk sits for a while, before he climbs down and begins the trek over to the Dragon.
Upon entry, he nods in respect towards the other combatants he fought alongside this day, then moves over to the bar. He sits down and orders a single flagon of ale - spending his time listening to the murmur of the other patrons.
Kyra lights up when Khalbar moves to include her, and laughs at the name he gives her. "You speak just fine." she replies, trying to speak more clearly to him for fear of him not understanding. "I'm just trying to make my way." She replies elusively. "Why are you out here among the sand?"
When Rhanloi orders the rounds she eyes it suspiciously and leaves it untouched. She almost glares at the Elf for being presumptuous, before reminding herself that this was what people did out here in the world. Her expression softened and she forced herself to explain. "Appreciate the gesture, but I'm afraid that I don't drink. Pollutes the body." Her eyes widen at the mention of him traveling with Khalbar and she looks between the two of them. "You two seem a rather unlikely pair" she teases, "How did you end up together?"
Khalbar looks at Rhanloi and answers in accented Common:"Rhanloi strong here," he says tapping his forehead, "where Khalbar weak. Khalbar strong here", he says flexing his massive bicep. "We make good team." Khal shrugs as if it should be obvious and slaps Rhanloi on the back good naturedly.
"He also help me with dream talk. I come for words with shaman of Desna the Dreamer. Now they busy with goblin fight. Too busy to have words." He looks down, clearly disappointed by the turn of events which have delayed his purpose.
Rhanloi nearly chokes on his drink when Khalbar slaps him on the back - then smiles and rolls his eyes. This has the feel of repetition between the two..."Not to worry, Khal - we'll see the cleric soon enough. Remember, all things can be used towards your purpose, even though you may not realize it until afterwards."
Turning to Kyra, he apologizes for the misunderstanding with the drink. "Pardon my assumptions, miss. What would you prefer - water, juice, tea?" he signals to a server to come over and swap Kyra's drink.
"Yes, Khalbar and I met by chance on the road - I though I was doing him a favor by sharing my fire and food one night. He thought he was doing me a favor by protecting me. We were traveling in the same direction, and we learned that we were both seeking something. We also realized our talents and skills complemented the other's. So we have travelled together for a couple of months now, coming to this lovely town in search of our goals. I am a wizard and purveyor of rare books and magical items. And what about you two? What do you seek?"
The Rusty Dragon Inn is aptly named, with an actual rusty metal dragon sculpture on the roof. Almost every town guard, including the Sheriff, Belor Hemlock, is in attendance, celebrating the defeat of the goblins.
The heroes' initial entrance into the tavern is fairly unremarkable, but when all of them have gathered and everyone is eating and drinking, Ameiko leaps atop the bar. "Folks! I have important news! Sandpoint has a new crop of goblinslayers!" at this, the guard raise their drinks and collectively roar. "They've helped us defend our homes from the menacing green creatures! Give them some gratitude!", and there's another roar. The rest of the night is largely a blur of drinks, slaps of the back, drinking games, congratulations, competitions of strength and of mind...just partying.
Well, for everyone but Kyra and Pick. They stand apart, sober.
The morning comes quickly for everyone, and with no small amount of soreness. The previous night's celebrations were rowdy, if anything. Ameiko, impossibly, is already up and cheerfully wiping the countertops. "Have a good night, everyone?"
The tavern swiftly clears of guards as they go back to work around the town, still mostly cautious of goblin incursions after yesterday.
After the guards have gone back to work, the tavern only has a few patrons besides the group of "Sandpoint's newest goblinslayers". A beautiful, bodacious ginger woman, the nobleman from before, and Ameiko.