Rise of the Rune Lords: Burnt Offerings (Inactive)

Game Master Quirel

It is the first day in Autumn, and the sun shines down upon the Swallowtail festival in Sandpoint. The square beside the new cathedral is packed with tents and booths, and hardly any room is left for the townsfolk. But they squeeze into the room that's left, laughing and scarfing and quaffing and having a good time.

At the hastily-erected platform wedged against the Cathedral's eastern wall, Mayor Deverin takes the podium.

"I'd like to thank everyone for coming, but if even Larz Rovanky could tear himself away from the tannery, the rest of the town was sure to find the time." She pauses to let the laughter and applause subside and beams an apologetic smile at the surly tanner. "No, true thanks should go out for the determination this town has shown in the face of adversity. We did not let hardship defeat us, but pooled our time and toil to rebuild. We did not let mistrust fracture us when we discovered darkness in our midst, but grew stronger through faith and friendship. If this community can survive such turmoil and still thrive, I believe Sandpoint will be here for generations to come."

Paul Reinjer's Start

Paul has always detested crowds, but even he couldn't resist the lure of the Swallowtail festival. He asked for, and received, booth space at the edge of the ruckus, in the southern corner of the square. Early in the morning, he erected a birch frame from which dangle the hides and horns of a dozen woodland species. Now it's beginning to dawn on him that gazing at fairgoers with disinterest isn't attracting customers. The glassmaker to his left and the herbalist to his right are making fools of themselves shouting their prices and hawking their wares, but they're also making money.

Paul, roll perception please.

Abbicka's Start

Being a guide involves many things. When the Deverin family hired a cartographer from across the Inner Sea, it meant Abbicka was hired to lead him all over the Sandpoint Cove and as far as Thistletop. Not a mean task when he brought all his kit and surveying tools, but the Gnome and the Elf found common ground in nature. The Cartographer turned out to be a naturalist and minerologist, so guiding him meant assisting in a census of every coniferous species on the Lost Coast.

Now, near the end of his contract, guiding the Cartographer means fetching a late breakfast to the loft of a house on Chapel Square, where he is sketching the Swallowtail Festival for Father Zantus. As she takes in the charcoal lines, Abbicka can't help but feel disappointment. Jensen Keuypher is drawing the festival as it looks, not how it is. All lines and perspective, no heart and soul.

"You're back," Jensen says, turning away from the window as he smells the food. "What did you get?"

Viorec Liberty's Start

Making his way back from the Valdemar's tent, a table catches Viorec's eye. Old man Basso Scarnetti has set up shop. A former cabinetmaker by trade, he has long since expanded to other schools of woodworking. Smoking pipes crafted from horn and knotwood rest on cherry boxes with oak inlay, flanked by driftwood carvings of every kind of forest animal save birds. There's lacquered bottles and phials on display, but the rest is covered by a tablecloth.

Instead, Basso is standing behind his grand-nephew Curphetes. His side of the table is occupied by glass sculptures and tools. A lot of jars and cast figurines, to be sure, but the young man's talent for shaping glass is evident. The centerpiece of the table seems to be a set of glass tuning forks; a remarkable technical achievement, if rather mundane.

"Good morning," Curphetes stutters, to his great-granduncle's chagrin. "Can I help you?"

Janaga's Start

It just goes to show. Spend a whole season planning the festival, and somebody is inevitably going to forget to hang thirty yards of bunting the morning of. Janaga's fetched a ladder, fetched Naffer Vosk to hold the ladder, hung the bunting across several stalls, and the rest of the day is hers until the dedication ceremony tonight.

"Want to get breakfast? I dunno about you, but I'm starving." Naffer says. Naturally, he gravitates toward the tent set up by the Valdemar family, from which emanates the smell of fried fish and oiled potatoes. The line is short, and Ceti Valdimar is renowned for the things she can do with cod and a little bit of seasoning.

Oh, I'm just looking Viorec states dismissively. These are very fascinating pieces...
I could see quite a few of these making passable focus items Viorec thinks, his eyes lingering on a particular flask. But I've already spent as much as I can at this festival.

He had purchased a hearty festival breakfast, and while it was a welcome break from his usual trail rations or commoners' gruel, it had left his wallet uncomfortably light.

Still, never hurts to keep my eyes open..
And with that he mutters a few words of a dead language as his right hand completes a motion. Starting palm down, with the thumb and forefinger toughing, it flips so the palm is upright, the fingers all spread.
Viorec casts Detect Magic (DM, let me know what I detect, if anything)
Afterwards, a carved and lacquered messenger kit catches his eye and he moves to examine it.

Oh, you know, the essentials! Abbicka chirps happily, holding out a basket. Within are several potatoes, still steaming from the oven, a large loaf of bread, and several local fruits. Trying to mask her mild disappointment, Abbicka looks past Jensen, How is your painting coming? This festival is such a wonderful time, infused with the very heart of these people. Setting the basket down on a small table alongside the rags and extra charcoal, Abbicka picks up the warm loaf of bread and, with some effort, breaks it in half, offering one half to Jensen.

Perception: 1d20 + 1 ⇒ (16) + 1 = 17

"I'm absolutely starved, but you're buying!" cheerfully hopping off the ladder. Walking with Naffer keeping a skip her step, she heads off towards the nearby tent. "It smells so delightful."

Viorec Liberty

As Viorec Liberty directs his thaumaturgical senses to the table, he feels two magical presences. The first is a faint aura of Transmutation somewhere on Basso Scarnetti's person. The other is a globe which emits a faint aura of Evocation. Upon closer inspection, the globe is a fist-sized glass sphere, frosted and pitted like the bottles found half-buried on the shore.

Of course, you could have just asked Curphetes what it does. =p

As interesting as the light is, the 45gp price tag makes Viorec think twice about a purchase, and he moves on to the other table. The 8gp messenger box is the far less expensive model on display, likely because of the utilitarian varnish and the lack of pine inlay. The sorcerer could imagine organizing spell components in such a box, if only it were a bit cheaper.

Abbicka

"The drawing is..." Jensen Keuypher trails off. "On the whole, I'd rather be sketching geography. Mountains don't move much, whereas that fishmonger down there has adjusted his tent three times since you left."

He takes the opportunity to stand and stretch his legs, walking around the loft he's called home for the past two months. Star charts are tacked to the wall, above neatly stacked bark samples and jars of teeth purchased from a local trapper. When he sits down at the table, Jensen has to move aside a ream of notes and measurements to make room for breakfast. It's a lot of stuff, enough to convince most people that the elf is a little strange in the head.

Paul

Stealth: 1d20 - 10 + 4 ⇒ (8) - 10 + 4 = 2

Paul had asked to set up on this very spot because of the alley between the two houses on this side of the square. He had thought that it would let him leave the festival when his wares sold out without the hassle of hauling birch sticks through the crowd. But the inhabitants of the houses had crammed the alley with all sorts of useless junk, making it nigh impassible for a full-grown man.

But he sees something smaller than a man moving in the alley. He turns to look, but the small figure darts behind a pile of tarps before he can identify it.

Meanwhile, completely oblivious, a sailor has wandered over to examine the furs. She seems particularly interested in the deerskins.

Janaga

"I always buy," Naffer says with a smile. In contrast to Janaga's skip, his gait is a slow walk courtesy of a deformed spine. More people have queued up by the time the two clerics reach the tent, people too hungry to defer to the clergy. But Naffer Vosk's good humor remains up until he sees a cart wheeled by, stacked high with seasoned wood for tonight's celebration.

Viorec feels a momentary pang of vulnerability, that such things as a glorified lantern or a fancy component box were beyond his finances. But what use would I have for those? He thinks to cheer himself up I can call forth light light and lead it where ever I desire, not just bound to a fragile, if fancy, cage. And I scoff at the unimaginative people still using materials to aid their spells.

But the magpie-like desire for fascinating baubles remained. Viorec had always been drawn to what interested him. Manipulation of the aether had fascinated him, and he found he had a natural talent for sorceries. Politics and social dynamics had interested him, and he found he could almost effortlessly read and lead people. Similarly, the politics and history of the Thesilonians, the precursor civilization in the area, lay like a scattered puzzle among the ruins and artefacts to be found in the area. In pursuing these pieces he'd become relatively knowledgeable about the history of the area, but not about how to make money.

Which is why the list sat at the back of his mind Goals for the Festival. 1, Enjoy it, 2, See what interesting, magical, or Thessilonian artefacts turn up, and 3, discover some interesting jobs to do.

There's a certain flow to people, Abbicka tried to explain, preferring to stand while she chewed thoughtfully on her bread. Like... What was it like? she wondered to herself. Like when you were drawing the ocean! she finally decided. The ocean moved about constantly, so it was impossible to capture a single moment of it. This festival is no different. There's an energy here. It will be a daunting task to capture a single moment of it, but if you can capture that energy instead... her voice drifted off. She had not intended to be so direct about it, but she'd gotten caught up in the moment of describing the festival. Taking a hasty bite of bread to fill her mouth before she could say anything else, Abbicka turned her mind wistfully to these last few months she had spent with Jensen mapping the coast and cataloging the various flora and fauna therein. It certainly was a lot of fun, she thought to herself as she swallowed the bread and plucked one of the baked potatoes from the basket.

Anyway, I'll leave you to your work. I'm going to go check on Lashtail. Giving Jensen a nod, she turned and rushed from the room before he could offer any retort. I wish the guard would at least let me keep Lashtail in one of the stables in the city, Abbicka pouted. They had insisted he be kept outside, so she'd been forced to leave him with the guards at Northgate. She paused at a stand to buy some jerked meat on her way. She didn't care for the stuff herself, but she knew that she'd never convince Lashtail to eat the potato she had with her.

Paul shelves the thought on what it is he saw at the prospect of making some gold this season.

He turns and looks at the potential customer "Interested in some skins?"

Another ornament catches Viorec's eye
Hmm, well that looks like it's supposed to look Thessilonian. or Old. Could be inspired inspired by an ancient pattern. But what is it supposed to do?
Viorec walks over to the ornament and carefully picks it up. With his attention focused on it, he asks Curphetes Can you explain a little about this piece?

Paul Reinjer

"Captain says we're headed far to the north after we leave port, and I don't care much for cold weather," the sailor says as she picks a deerskin off the birch frame. "I've got five gold pieces to spend, and you've got fifty seconds to convince me to buy a hide instead of a quilt."

Abbicka

"Hurry back," the elf calls out as Abbicka leaves.

A strange sight greets the druid at Northgate. Lashtail is waiting impatiently for her, and standing between him and the road is a guard in a big puffy greatcoat. The guard looks like he has several bedrolls wrapped around his body and arms, and he doesn't quite like the look that the deinonychus is giving him.

"Thank gods you're back, he says as Abbicka approaches. He self-consciously glances down at his suit, and mutters an explanation. "Turns out we had this in storage. It's for, ah, training guard dogs."

Viorec Liberty

"That?" Curphetes asks. "Oh! I saw it in a book we keep up at the glassworks. It's some kind of old broach that the Thassalonian nobility wore."

He motions for Viorec to turn it over and runs his finger over the rim. It looks as if the glass was cut, folded, and braided before it could cool.

"Genas Vesht would know more about it. To me, it just looked like something fun to make."

Abbicka lets loose a high chortle at the guard's expense. "He's actually very nice," she comments, approaching Lashtail nonchalantly while still looking at the guard with a coy smirk. Turning to Lashtail, she pulls the jerked meat from her pack and offers a little piece to the deinonychus. "Were you good while I was gone?" she whispers to it in something of a baby voice.

Lashtail hastily snaps up the offered meat. *obligatory raptor noises* It extends its head, hoping to be petted.

Abbicka happily obliges, petting the soft feathered head a few times. "I have to go back to the festival now. You stay here, and don't give the poor guard any trouble." Turning back to the guard, she offers a shrug. "I'm sorry to leave you in such a position, but the city officials were very insistent that I not bring Lashtail into Sandpoint proper." Taking a long breath of the fresh air just outside the city, Abbicka does a little twirl and skips back towards the gate. "I wish the festival could be held out here. The city air is so stifling. I'll be back to check on Lashtail again when the sun passes its zenith. I hope you'll be alright until then." She throws the guard a mischievous wink and then heads back into the city.

I wonder if Jensen has finished his drawing, she quietly wonders to herself. I think I'll enjoy the festival for a little longer before returning. And with that, Abbicka heads down the street, looking hither and yon at the various stands set up, hoping to sample some interesting food.

"It's your charming personality I find so captivating, but the food doesn't hurt either," Janaga giggles turning to face Naffer. Her robes bouncing as lightly as she slid into the line. She smiled back at Naffer as he caught up to her springing steps.

The lightness in her voice fades, her brow weighing in thought. Janaga leans back, placing her hands together behind her head, "Closure. We celebrate the fallen trees in hopes their saplings will be as wonderful as they were one day. Our way of saying goodbye to the old, and hello to the new." Janaga relaxes back into her uneven smile, "Plus, who doesn't love a warm fire and laughter?"

She began to hum a familiar tune, carrying on the banter between the two.

"Hides warmer. Works for animals, works for you" Paul says, a bit miffed at the woman's attitude and tone.

Abbicka

"I'd like to have the festival out here too. But then your raptor would have to be somewhere else and I'd still have to make sure it doesn't come looking for you in the festival. Honestly, the faster the elf can finish his contract, the faster we can get back to normal."

The guard (His name might be Rodney) waves as Abbicka passes through the wide open gates. It's unusual for them to be unbarred and watched by only two, but the lack of watchmen willing to show up is a testament to the lure of the festival.

So many stalls tempt the druid with the smell of fresh pastries and seasoned meat, but the Valdemar family win out. They are already cooking the main course for brunch, a massive fish (by Gnome standards) with a long saber-like nose and a rigid dorsal crest.

Janaga

"I suppose I'm letting the Late Unpleasantness get to me," Naffer says. There's no doubt that he pronounced those words with capital letters. "Loosing Father Tobyn and his daughter in the fire was bad enough, but the Croot murders... I'd thought I'd left that darkness behind."

Janaga knows that Naffer Vosk bears smuggler tattoos under his sleeves, the mark of a life he'd gladly left behind. Judging from how he is attacking his cod with a fork, some of the memories aren't staying buried. But at Janaga's reassurances of death and growth, he laughs the worries away.

"Who doesn't love a warm fire? Well, I'm sure the trees and saplings could think of a more dignified end."

I'll get more information up on the Late Unpleasantness tomorrow, in between working on combat maps.

Paul Reinjer

"Fine," the sailor says. Copper wristbands jangle as she replaces the deerskin on the rack. "I'll take all three of your beaver skins, five gold pieces for the lot."

Note: Beaver pelts usually sell for 2 gp apiece.

Viorec Liberty

Note: Untrained knowledge checks are rolled as normal, but the highest result you can get is a 10. Anything higher is rounded down.

[b]Huh. Does Genas Vesht have a booth at the festival? I like this brooch, but I couldn't buy and wear something without knowing if there was some hidden meaning to it...[b] (That's a Bluff check, I have no intention of buying it, I just want the location of someone who may be a competitor to Curphetes)

As Viorec puts down the brooch, he thinks to himself I doubt there's anything to this matter, but when one is bored... and who knows what else I may learn along the way? Curious about that transmutation though

"Excuse me for a second" Paul asks the sailor as he swings around grabbing his Greatsword and raising it as threatening as possible while preparing to strike, hoping to catch his would be assailants off-guard.

When I post a spoilered skill check, use the dice function to see if you pass. To do this, type in the dice function with the appropriate bonuses and penalties, and then hit preview.
Please leave the skill check in your final post.

Viorec Liberty

"No, he was going to put a day in at the glassworks," Curphetes says, placing the brooch back on a length of cloth. "But if you keep an eye on the Deverin family's tent, and you'll probably catch him on a beer run."

"It probably doesn't mean anything, really. The Varisians haven't had real nobility for centuries, right?"

Paul Reinjer

There are those who have called Paul paranoid for walking through the streets of Sandpoint armed with a greatsword. There are many who have questioned the utility in the wilderness of a two-handed sword nearly as long as you are tall. "How does one hunt with a sword" they ask. "How useful would it really be in a kobold ambush?"

Paul Reinjer puts all of the doubting Thomases to shame as he unsheathes the weapon in one smooth motion. The blade hums and catches the light majestically as he brings it to bear.

Crouching right before the ranger are three kids, none of whom look a day older than six years.

I thought social checks were blind-rolled by the DM. Is that just knowledge checks?
Oh, if there is any meaning to it, the people I know will know it. Can't be too safe Viorec says, as he wanders away from the stall in the direction of what he thinks is the Deverin tent. After a few paces though, he changes direction mid step, and turns towards the nearest well or public potable water source.

Abbicka approaches the fire over which the fish is being cooked as her curiosity gets the better of her. Finally, she asks, "I've never seen an animal quite like that. What is it known as?"

With as much menace as Paul can muster in his voice he asks one short and concise question

"What. Do. You. Want."

The square falls silent, mostly. The vendors and citizens on the fringes soon figure out that Sheriff Hemlock has taken the podium and asked for a moment of silence to honor those who lost their lives in the fire that took the old church.

After a minute of bowed heads, the sheriff simply asks that people be careful around the bonfire tonight and takes a seat.

Abbicka

"'s called a marlin, darlin," Violetta Valdemar says as she feeds pepper seeds into a burr grinder. "Boys don't catch 'em verreh often, so's they get unbearably excited when they do. I told my husband, cod or halibut would be much faster to cook, but he'd hear none of it."

Her husband gives her a fond hug, evidently enjoying the henpecking. "Actually, the first steaks will be ready in a few minutes. Get the plates ready."

He recognizes Abbicka, though there's a scarcity of other wildling gnomes to confuse her with. "Mind you, that little gnome you're talking to gets a free plate."

Viorec Liberty

See discussion

It is an unseasonably hot day, however, and Father Zantus planned ahead. A wagon bearing several barrels of water is parked against a nearby house, providing refreshment to the fairgoers and shade to a stray dog.

Paul Reinjer

"We were... um... we're trying to scare you," the kid in front mumbles. Paul recognizes him as the brat who keeps running away from his family to become a ranger in the woods. After the first two attempts, Sheriff Hemlock had asked Paul not to join the search party under the assumption that Paul's presence was only encouraging the kid.

The two children in back cut and run back up the alley, abandoning the miscreant.

Viorec walks over to the wagon. Luckily, with the exception of the dog, none of the fairgoers deign to loiter about a wagon when there's a fair to be had, so the so the crowd keeps circulating. He fills up his wineskin with water and steps unobtrusively behind the wagon. There, palm down, he flutters his fingers over the skin before ending the motion in a wave. As he does this, he speaks different words in the same language as before.
I've just cast prestidigitation, and the language is Thessilonian
The water in the wineskin now tastes like a very watered down wine. A repeat of the act gives the water a mild reddish tint. That done, Viorec again begins to walk towards the Deverin tent.

"My thanks to you both." Abbicka gives a curt nod and continues to mingle around the Valdemar area.

"The only thing we can do now is to bask in the moment. We owe them all that much." Janaga allowed the banana smile take over her face once more. "Darkness must exist for the light to shine, both out here, and in here." Janaga laid a hand over her chest, with her gaze shifting to the passing clouds. The banana favored smile waned, as the twinkle in her eyes began to haze. "Yes...darkness must exist for light to shine." she exhaled in a mutter.

Janaga returned to facing the world, her friend at the mention of a dignified end. She slid her knife slowly cutting the flesh before her. The blade opened the meat further as the tender connections were severed. She dug deeper into the meal, clashing against her fork. "There is no such thing as a dignified death. It will come to us all, and embrace us equally. Honor and dignity in death, there is no such thing." Her grip tightened around the fork. Each knuckle crying out in a white hot compression. She inhaled the deeply closing her eyes and tipping her chair back on it's hind legs. She let go of the table infront of her, allowing a small thump as the chair returned to the earth.

Her charm and wit returned to her just a quickly as she had begun to sink into the sorrow. The fruity grin returned to its usual cheek to cheek position. Within a few jokes and laughter, all was right with the world again.

While still holding his sword and looking at the remaining child Paul tilts his head in the direction of the sailor and says "8 gold for the three"

Abbicka

"Say nothing of it," Thurl Valdemar says. "I heard Albert Yates whining about having to drive sheep into town past your pet raptor. Seeing that cheapskate riled up is worth money."

The shipbuilder turns back to his grill, ending what could be the first positive thing anyone in town has ever said about Lashtail.

Viorec Liberty

Genas Vesht is a fairly broad man sporting a truly impressive collection of double chins, and is usually seen wearing a yellow and blue striped cloak with a matching hat. Nobody matching that description is seated at the Deverin tent, but perhaps it's only a matter of time.

Janaga

Naffer Vosk's eyes flick down to Janaga's knuckles as she very nearly cuts the plate in half.

"I feel that you're wrong. There is such a thing as honor in death, and that is one where you accept your fate and Pharasma's judgment. Likewise, dignity in death is one where the body is properly cared for. Nature does this, whether the body is lost in a distant forest or buried beneath a headstone."

He stirs his hashbrowns into a thick, nut-brown sauce and smiles. "But what do I know? I just bury them."

Paul Reinjer

"For eight pieces, I could buy a quilt, poncho, and a warm meal at the next port," the sailor says. She hooks a hand on the scarlet sash about her waist, as if in deep contemplation of her options.

"I don't suppose you can meet me at six gold pieces for the set?"

"Fine" Paul says as he puts away the Greatsword."Tell your friends."he says in a voice as if not accustomed to the simple saying while handing over the pelts.

"And for you" with a look to the child. It is not smart to sneak up on a ranger, dangerous even.

A sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, slices through the excited crowd as the sun approaches its zenith. Silence follows in its wake, and the buzz of two dozen conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn to to the sky. But there is not a cloud to be seen, and the chatter slowly retakes the plaza. People go back to their food and games, the kid goes back to staring at Paul's sword, and the stray dog at the water wagon goes back to sleep. At the podium, a beaming Father Zantus has trailed off in the middle of his introduction. 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.

Goblins chew and goblins bite.
Goblins cut and goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!

Congratulations. Every one of you get to act in the surprise round.

Everyone in the square can see the that the shape that raced by and killed the dog now hides at the edge of the wagon—a single goblin, licking the blood from its dogslicer as it looks excitedly at the crowd. It is no bigger than a gnome or halfling, but its hideous appearance marks it as a distant relation to trolls and orcs. Two beady eyes set in wrinkled grey skin atop a wide mouth eagerly seek out new targets.

Before anyone can let out more than a quick shout, more goblins appear. One clambers up on a table in the Valdemar table, filches a marlin steak, and runs down the table waving a dogslicer in people's faces. Another runs past Abbicka, swinging a blade hammered from old tin at her.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (7) + 3 = 10
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (4) + 1 = 5

And misses, badly. The wildling Gnome can hear the blade rattling in its handle as it whooshes by.

The third Goblin slowly advances on Curphetes and Basso, giggling menacingly.

The combat map is here. Sorry if moving characters around is a little funky, that's something I think is being worked on. Don't worry about the NPCs, just move your own characters. Also, Abbicka gets an attack of opportunity against the goblin beside her, since it moved through one of her threatened squares (S2 to S3).

I already rolled Initiative for you guys. The Goblins went first and their actions are in the post above. One actually attacked, and the others are just menacing people. Stupid little freaks.

Its your turn. Get your smite on. Sorry for not saying this earlier.

Where is the turn order?

The turn order is as follows: goblins, you guys, goblins, you guys, goblins, you guys, goblins, you guys. It is currently the PCs turn.

[ooc]As for the turn order among the PCs, it's first come, first served.

"Run" Paul says to the child as he brandishes his Greatsword and closes the distance between himself and the goblin(O-10) and puts all his strength into a power attack.

Janaga stood her ground, raising from the meal and began a prayer.

[occ]Summon on Q3, need a token for dog.[/occ]

Thank you so much for including the critter's stats. I'm going to assume that you ordered it to attack the goblin at Q2.

With a snap-hiss, a shaggy black mutt appears in the Deverin tent. It is an Outsider, a foreigner to the Material Plane, and the Swallowtail Festival is a kaleidoscope of novel sounds and smells. But the mutt is a dog first and foremost, and the smell of Goblin triggers deep racial instincts. A second sniff confirms the presence of the hated Goblin, and suggests that the nearest one is less than five feet away, is elevated three feet above the ground, wears an old leather jerkin, and is munching on over-seasoned seafood.

Attack: 1d20 + 2 ⇒ (18) + 2 = 20
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 4

Dishes are scattered and fish is sent flying as the dog lunges onto the table. Meaty jaws slam shut around the Goblin's arm and grind.

Not far away, another Goblin watches as the ranger approaches. The little critter hops from one foot to the other excitedly, and has little trouble ducking under the swing.

Perhaps the detractors were right?

Viorec looks around, surveying the situation. At the same time he stretches out another of his senses, concentrating on the bond with his familiar like someone would an arm. He is filled with the sensation of a firm niche and an interrupted nap. In return, he sends the impression of danger and the instinct to come together for safety.
While he thinks on that, he draws a firm bit of fabric from his belt pouch and a metal ball from a bag.
I use my move action to ready my sling and bullets
He moves to try and get a better angle I take a 5' step as a swift action, moving from M-5 to N-5
and flings his bullet at the nearest goblin, taking care not to hit the strangers already fighting it
I attack the goblin at Q-2 with my sling

Attack: 1d20 - 4 ⇒ (2) - 4 = -2
damade: 1d4 ⇒ 3

This is far from the first Goblin raid the town has survived, and the good citizens of Sandpoint spring into action. The people nearest to the Goblin raiders retreat toward the center of the Chapel Square while constables move to the perimeter and try to keep panic from spreading. A few of the quicker-thinking merchants pull down their horribly flammable tents before the Goblins get around to setting things on fire.

Paul's warning to the child goes unheeded. The kid actually steps around the building to follow the ranger into combat, but the sailor grabs him by the wrist and sprints for the safety of the crowd.

Nearby, Curphetes is scooping up his figurines and dumping them with hurried gentleness into a fabric-lined chest. His great-uncle's wares are far less fragile, so the old man goes on the offensive. He produces a bottle of oil from his coat pocket and wipes down his cane. As the oil soaks into the wood, the grain grows coarser and darkens. Thus prepared, Basso stands with the cane ready, daring the Goblin to come any closer.

Meanwhile, in the Valdemar tent, pandemonium breaks out. Fortunately, it is quickly exported as Naffer Vosk and Violetta Valdemar convey her vexed mother-in-law out of the venue and away from the vicious Goblins. Viorec Liberty's volley flies in vain, skidding into the sand and under the sandals of Alvin Valdemar as he advances upon the virulently vicious and voracious vermin invader. Valor turns to vaudeville as the veteran sailor slips and slams into the unsteady surface upon which the Goblin stands.

Rot is the last one. And that last paragraph is what happens when I have Red Bull at 3:00 in the morning.

Abbicka takes a step back from the goblin and gives a shrill whistle, then begins chanting in a strange language.

I'll edit in the rest of the action after I find out if the check succeeds or fails.

Abbicka's whistle is surprisingly loud and shrill coming from a being of her size, but it gets lost in the din.

As the raiders push into the square, the song continues.

Goblins race and goblins jump.
Goblins slash and goblins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!

The Goblin being munched on by Janaga's dog screeches in pain and flails wildly with its dogslicer.

Attack: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 2

Critical Confirm: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (16) + 3 = 19
Damage: 1d4 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

The crude weapon more than lives up to its name, biting deep into the celestial dog's throat. With a gurgling yelp, the dog rolls off the table and disappears in a puff of silvery smoke.

The nearby Goblin had forgotten about Abbicka and charged the dog, only to arrive too late. It warily looks around as if expecting the dog to ambush it, and accidentally backs into Janaga's legs.

Paul Reinjer gets an attack of opportunity against the Goblin, in addition to his normal attack.

A hail of rocks heralds the arrival of more Goblins. Specifically, it heralds the arrival of a Goblin that had slipped off the roof over Curphetes' and Basso's booth and fell squarely onto Curphetes' glasswork.

His comrades back away from the edge and continue their volley, targeting the ranger with the giant sword.

Attack: 1d20 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (14) + 1 - 4 = 11
Damage: 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (1) - 1 = 0

Attack: 1d20 + 1 - 4 ⇒ (11) + 1 - 4 = 8
Damage: 1d2 - 1 ⇒ (2) - 1 = 1

And hit not a damn thing.

You guys are up!

Paul sees the opportunity and takes it

Attack Roll: 1d20 + 4 + 1 ⇒ (14) + 4 + 1 = 19

Damage: 2d6 + 6 ⇒ (3, 2) + 6 = 11

At the sight of her fallen comrade, Janaga unleashes her blade against the closest goblin.

Crit Confirm: 1d20 + 0 ⇒ (13) + 0 = 131d4 + 0 ⇒ (3) + 0 = 3

Finished her chanting, Abbicka turns on her heels and dashes off to the north, whistling as she goes.

Viorec looks to the other group of goblins and sees they are still behind people with swords and furniture, before looking to get a better angle on the first goblins
Viorec moves from N-5 to N-1
before pursing his lips and trying again with his sling
I attack the goblin at Q2
Sling attack: 1d20 ⇒ 81d4 ⇒ 4

Concurrently an owl flutters near him, taking care to stay out of his way.