For five years, the faithful of Sandpoint have attended church in temporary structures erected after fire destroyed the previous temple, and while their new religious leader was helpful, kind, and wise, church wasn’t the same. Now, the new cathedral is finally done. All that remains is for the Swallowtail Festival, on the Autumnal Equinox, to renew the site’s blessings from the gods and it will be as if the Sandpoint Fire had never occurred.
The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers each deliver short but well-received welcomes to the festival.
Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to town and jokes about how even Larz Rovanky, the local tanner (and notorious workaholic) managed to tear himself away from the tannery to attend, much to everyone’s amusement (except Larz’s).
Sheriff Belor Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request
for a moment of silence to remember those who lost theirlives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church several years ago.
The next speaker is scheduled to be local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitsu, but Mayor Deverin apologizes on his behalf as a sudden illness has prevented him from attending the ceremony (this isn’t something that surprises the locals, given Lonjiku’s well-known dislike of frivolity and festivals).
Sandpoint’s own show man Cyrdak Drokkus is more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes. He delivers a not-completely-irreverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral. He throws in a bit of self promotion at the end, as is his wont, inviting everyone to stop by the Sandpoint Theater the following evening to check out his new production of “The Harpy’s Curse,” revealing that the lead role of Avisera the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda!
Finally, Father Zantus steps up to give a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
Various games and contests are being held, from tug of wars and sack races to two musicians with fiddles trying to out do each other. There are even some people test their skills at the edge of down doing a little archery but it seems to be mostly an impromptu affair. Riddle contests and various other challenges abound.
A young man of very average height and build stands among the crowd, his brown hair and moustache well-groomed. His pale brown eyes are very slightly watery and he avoids making eye contact. However, he is watching everything that goes on around him and is making mental notes of potential troublemakers. He carries a few weapons slung about him. A longspear on his back, a crossbow at his side. None in hand.
His dress is worn but well-mended road merchant clothing, reddish-brown in colour. His wooden holy symbol of Abadar is clearly visible around his neck. This is a day to rejoice, for a great cathedral has risen. Shrines to Abadar and five other deities have been rebuilt, better than before. A greater testament to the power of civilised cooperation is difficult to imagine.
He will enjoy the festivities. Yes. To find a game of acrobatics or a shell game.
To ensure no cheating of course.
He makes a thin smile at his own joke. He brightens up some more, he may run into friends or family. He has not had time to make proper plans yet.
Miron Valadimirescu is back in town, after many years in training.
Milgen had been back in town for a week or two, and was staying with his family's factors here in Sandpoint. He was, as usual, at odd ends. His youthful face was too young still, per his family, to be seen as legitimate as a Factor. Yet he was also too old, by appearance, to play around with kids too. The festival was a relief, as he could behave a bit like a kid and nobody noticed, as all the adults were acting like children. Unfortunately, his family hadn't seen fit to give him any money for the festival, leaving it to him to earn his own keep. So with only a single gold in his pocket, he was not going to be joining any of the games, at least, not until late in the festival when the prices dropped.
He did stop in at every stall that had something for sale, trying to memorize the merchant and their goods, and see how badly they were over or under selling the value of the object. If he sees opportunities to make a few coins, he'll take it.
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Sparks flew, as the hammer pounded metal on the forge. Sounds of celebration filled the air. Drazh ignored it, as he angrily swung. Next to him stood the owner of Savah’s Armory, the aforementioned Savage, watched the dwarf with a bemused expression.
”Are you done?” She asked mockingly. Drazh looked up. ”You rush my art?” His voice was like stones being rubbed together. She shook her head. ”Lock up when you are done. I’m going to go enjoy the festival. You should to.”
Drazh looked down at the axe. This was an axe which would slay giants! This was an axe which would...likely sit on a shelf for the next year or so. He worked the forge to get by, but he was really here to spread the word about the giant threat. Nobody had paid him any mind. He was just “that crazy dwarf with the burnt hand.” He looked at his hand. He had burnt the rune of Dranngvit into his skin, so that he would never forget the vengeance he had sworn.
More and more though, it looked like the people of this town wouldn’t pay attention until they were attacked. He resolved, at that point, if he could not find like minded individuals who would take the giant scourge seriously, then he would leave.
”I need a drink.” He said to no one in particular. Placing the axe down he walked out of the back room. It was good to go by human standards. To his trained eye though, it would take another day to make sure that the weight was just right. Axe making was an art form. An art humans did not appreciate.
Savah was gone. She had left the shop attended, of course. Drazh walked out, towards the Hagfish. He had heard about some kind of drinking game there...
Miron is able to find a game of find the ball going on. A young varissian man is conducting it while a group of older children give him coppers to bet.
Miron looks intently but cannot follow the man's hands quickly enough.
More practice needed. That wasn't good enough.
His good mood evaporates. But this too will pass.
"Hmmm?" Anneka replies absently as she turns to Kera, as the girl rattles on. Before them, a tantalizing spread of artisan, gourmet pastries lines the vendor's table. Cannoli, strudel, eclairs, fruit tarts, fig dumplings, apple pies, and other confections accompany loaves of milled wheat sprinkled with sesame seeds, white breads pulled and twisted into baguettes, and round loaves of pumpkin bread crowned with pecan. The glaze of most of them reflects the sunlight, the coarse sugars reflecting the light like delicate, prized jewels. They had taken great care with this batch, as always, knowing that today they would literally be in competition with the other bakers and vendors. Of course, they were not favored to win--not with Ameiko in the running again.
Still, the festival brought them business, and was great fun besides. At least it should have been. But for weeks now, Anneka had developed a creeping, unsettled feeling. It had started with her dreams--unsettling dreams that would wake her up at night, but the substance of which she could never quite recall. They only left her feeling anxious, fertive, and struggling to reclaim her sleep. This was bittersweet, for often she liked dreaming. She could hear in her dreams, or at least some of them. She could hold conversations, and hear the sound of her own voice. Not Arika's voice, even if they were identical, but her own. That her dreams should become a source of unrest was disconcerting in itself.
"I said," Kera continues, "Cyrdak just announced that Avysera is going to play in The Harpy's Curse! Isn't she the best?!"
Arika steps lightly around them, shooing away flies with a large, white apron. She is identical to Anneka in almost every respect, save the color of her hair. Arika's is still dark brunette, while Anneka's has turned prematurely gray. "Oh... sure," Anneka agrees, speaking and signing her reply. She turns to the podium, where Father Zantus stands. She squints her eyes and cups a hand over her brow, but he's too far for her to make out. "What else did he say?" she asks as she turns back to Kera.
"There's games, Anneka! Let's go play!"
"No," she replies to Kera. "I should stay here and mind the stall. You go ahead. Take Arika instead?" She points to her twin.
Kera rolls her eyes and runs to Arika. They speak between each other a moment before Arika turns, signals to Anneka, and disappears in the crowd. Anneka sighs and takes a seat at her table, watching the sky for signs of a storm.
Is that the roll of thunder?
Just then, a waifish man with pale hair approaches the stall, and several others soon follow, causing her to become absorbed in her work.
Milgen, noticing the white haired girl signing, touches his brow in a jaunty salute, and then begins to sign.
:Greetings. The entire table smells delicious. Which do you suggest, and how much are each?:
The young man has hair as white as Anneka's, but his eyes are an amber so orangish that they appear almost golden, and even seem to glitter when the light hits them the right way.
Anneka smiles at her latest patron, whom she does not recognize and marking him as a visitor. Her expression is mild, pleasant, like late summer rain in the sunshine. Her tempered expression transforms in delight when he begins to sign for her. She responds in kind, though also speaking. "Greetings, sir! Welcome to Sandpoint Savories, and to Sandpoint, at that!" She touches her chin in thought, then continues. "I recommend the candied pumpkin and apple handpies. We only prepare them during the harvest, and so you wouldn't always find them in our shop. Your first selection is on the house! Prices range from one to five copper pinch.
Also, please regard our legal disclaimer..." She points behind her, where a handpainted sign reads: Sandpoint Savories products contain nuts, gluten, and a great deal of love.
"How is it you know to sign your words?"
Milgen bows. "I am Milgen Loztres, of House Loztres." Loztres is known as a far ranging trade house, a family run affair, which has outposts in many places, even Sandpoint, although the local trade house is on the small side, mostly buying preserved fish and coral for export to other parts of the world, they send a small cargo ship in every quarter to pick up things and drop things off for redistribution. He too signs as he talks, interspersing his personal sign and family name signs, so she knows them. "My House believes it important to be able to communicate to deal with all people, so most of my house learn at least one if not more versions of sign, as well as multiple languages."
Milgen looks over the pies, and selects a small apple handpie as his free sample. "Unfortunately, I've never been one for pumpkin." His signing is a bit choppy with the apple pie in one hand, but passable. Taking a small bite, he obviously mushes it in his mouth, tasting it throroughly, like a merchant, not a sweets addict.
He smiles, then pops the rest in his mouth, enjoying it rather than evaluating it. He continues to sign, but doesn't talk as he chews.
:Excellent taste, and signing means I can talk and chew politely. Winter apples, fresh not dried, cinnamon, sugar, honey, ground walnut, and butter filling. Fine sifted flour, eggs, milk, honey, and butter for the crust?:
Ferocia stalked through town with a scowl. Sandpoint was too much. Too big. Too crowded. Too noisy. Ugh, even the smell got to her. The stink of sweat and fish, and human waste. Every fresh breeze from the ocean was a blessing. Or it would be, if she could stop the pounding in her head.
It was always worse on festival days. Every farmer, fisherman, merchant and their thirteen cousins hauled their a**es into town to celebrate. To party, really. And make some coin. She couldn't blame them. But it was days like this that made her wish Shalelu had never found her. Sandpoint was overwhelming.
It was the Autumnal Equinox today. She'd head out later to properly celebrate. In the woods. Maybe she'd even run into one of her old friends...
She scoffed aloud.
She was being sentimental. The fey never appeared to her. Not anymore. She didn't belong with them, just like she didn't belong here.
They say it's a holy day. Another holiday to that butterfly chick. The one who' s always half-naked in paintings. Most people only cared that Harvest was here. But all this spectacle? The celebration? It wasn't for th Equinox, or the gods. They'd rebuilt the church.
Ohh! Ahh! She scoffed. So they'd built a church! Who cares? Maybe don't burn it down this time... Bloody fools. They didn't care about what today was really about.
And yet she was here. Why?
There was supposed to be free food. Too bad there wasn't free liquor. These speeches were tedious.
As Mayor Deverin jokes about Lars Rovanky, Ferocia scoffed and shook her head. That guy's an a**. He needs a fine from the labour board. Around her, the people laugh and she rolls her eyes. Idiots.
Then there's the Sheriff. He didn't toss her in the drunk tank nearly as often as he could, and he didn't even fine her for the last two brawls she got in. He was a stick in the mud, but alright. They could do worse for Sheriff.
By the time Cyrdak got on stage the crowd was overwhelming. People jostled around her. A man behind her coughed. The laughter hurt her ears. And the heat! Why was it so hot? She needed air.
Ferocia turned and pushed her way through the crowd, back out to the fringes. She groaned and held a hand to her head.
Ugh, she hated this place.
She left the crowds behind and walked down to the docks. It still stunk down there, but she preferred the stink of fish and the sea to the stench of the crowd. The reprieve didn't last long. Soon the crowds spread out over the town as vendors sold their wares, and competitions and games were held. There was a sack race nearby, and some fool shouting riddles. Ugh, she needed a drink.
She headed to the Hagfish. It was a filthy place, full of fishermen and thugs. Although busy, it wasn't the kind of place that tourists took to. It'd likely be less packed than the Rusty Dragon or Cracktooth's. ...She hoped.
On the way she passes by Anneka's stall. She nods at the girl and gets in line. Pulling out a few coins from her belt pouch, Ferocia doesn't need to order. Anneka knows what she likes. The bearclaws. Damned things were delicious. Plus, she'd always been a fan of puns. ...Not that anyone understood the joke but herself...
As she gets to the front of the line she hands Anneka the coins owed, and an extra copper pinch for a tip, before taking her pastry and nodding farewell.
"See ya'."
As she stepped into the Hagfish she looked around...
Absorbed with signing at Anneka, Milgen completely misses Ferocia's features, and doesn't recognize her.
He does wonder at the oddness of 3 people with white hair in one place at one time. Good or ill omen? He wonders.
Milgen's gloves make his signing enthusiastic, like he's ending every thought with an exclamation point. Oh, a nobleman, Anneka recognizes the name, but figures this one seems less stuffy than most. More like a Kendra Deverin than a Lonjiku Kaijitsu. How grateful she is that the latter hasn't yet shown his face today. That man would boss around the sun and moon if he could.
"A pleasure to meet you, sir," she signs to Milgen, trying very hard to remember her manners. Country and low-born she might be, but she could still be a lady.
:Excellent taste, and signing means I can talk and chew politely. Winter apples, fresh not dried, cinnamon, sugar, honey, ground walnut, and butter filling. Fine sifted flour, eggs, milk, honey, and butter for the crust?:
:Not bad,: she signs wordlessly with a grin. :My mother likes to say that cooking contains the wisdom of an age, because it takes so many errors to get a thing right. I guess that makes you something of an wise man.:
"Hi, Feroc--" Anneka barely gets the name spelled before the dwarf is come and gone, like an early frost, and stalking down the street with a sticky bearclaw in her hand.
He does wonder at the oddness of 3 people with white hair in one place at one time. Good or ill omen?
Milgen laughs.
:Merely trained, if you can't tell what is in the food by taste, how can you be sure you're getting what you pay for?:
He places a gold piece down on the table.
:I'll take the large apple pie for 5 copper, and please keep an extra copper for your troubles, if you please. In a bag, if you can? I'll eat the pie later, don't want to ruin my appetite.:
Azalia comes late, escorting her blind friend Risa and finding a place to sit in the back just as the second speaker begins.
As the festival gets underway, she glances around, describing the scene to her friend and chatting with her, but not participating in anything else, except when someone comes by to show her what looks like an ancient relic. She smiles and says Looks valuable. Come by my shop tomorrow.
Miron finds a game with a big tub of water. There' a curving rim around the edge about four inches across. On the inside it is filled with water, on the outside a few bags of leaves act as cushions. There is a bell to the side, the idea is you hit the bell every time you make a lap. No one has gotten past ringing the bell three times.
As she goes around town Sheriff Hemlock gives Ferocia a meaningful look to let her know he's keeping an eye on her. Inside in the Hagfish a strong smell of lobster chowder comes from the kitchen and without a word a steaming bowl is pushed in front of her with a smile.
Lunch is provided free during the festival, at the expense of Sandpoint’s taverns. Each brings its best dishes—this event is as much a marketing push by the taverns to win new customers as it is to feed a hungry crowd. It soon becomes apparent that the darling of the lunch is, once again, Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead easily overshadow the other offerings, such as the Hagfish’s lobster chowder or the White Deer’s peppercorn venison.
I shall try this!
Miron tries for the water game.
In the aftermath:
I really should have taken off that armoured coat first.
A great cheer erupts from the crowd as Miron tumbles into the water just after he rings he bell for the first time. As he climbs out it might provide him with some small comfort that he isn't the only one standing near here that is sopping wet!
Miron shakes himself off, getting a smile out at the laughter.
It's not just me. And I tried!
He shakes himself off theatrically, and then strides off jovially.
I am hungry. I should go and eat.
Yes.
And the decision made, he walks towards a meeting. And smells delicious pastries.
Ferocia gives a smirk to Sheriff Hemlock, and a cheeky salute, before passing by and onto the Hagfish.
She struggles to find a spot to sit, eventually finding a chair open at the bar, squashed between an old, toothless sailor and a dwarf with a brand on his arm. She squirms her way through the crowd and sits down. Nodding at the server she digs right into her lobster chowder and orders a frothing mug of ale.
"Mmm!" she exclaims. "Delicious, as always! But where's my beer?" With a smile she jokes, "I'll die of thirst over here! Pour me a pint."
"We cook most of our own food. I trust the cook." Anneka winks, then turns her eyes away as she busies herself wrapping Milgen's pie, making change from the lockbox beneath her seat (luckily mama had counted enough silvers and coppers), and carefully loading it into an unadorned flour sack from the shop.
She hands it to him with one hand, the fingers of her other hand touching her lips and extending out in a simple thanks. "Enjoy the festival, sir."
Looking out over the crowd, she scans the many familiar faces, and the many unfamiliar ones. As she always does at large events, she wonders about the sounds she's missing. Is there music? Birdsong? Can the ocean be heard above it all? It's absurd that she would forget something like that, but she honestly can't recall. She closes her eyes, instead focusing on her other senses. She can taste the salt in the air, feel the wind on her face, and of course smell the food. Simple pleasures. She reopens her eyes and watches the people mill about, silently pantomiming their excitement, their boredom, their fun, feeling more than a little isolated and alone. The nobleman is a pleasant surprise. It's not often she meets a stranger who speaks her language.
Oh, there's Miron! She waves, hoping to catch his attention (she doesn't yell much these days, unsure of her voice). "Hi, Miron!" she says, signing and making eye contact. "Are you having fun? Why are you all wet?"
Milgen laughs at Anneka's joke, and then takes the pie. He gives another small salute before hooking the pie sack to his belt. Signing as he speaks, he takes his leave. "Good day to you too, and good luck with the advertising." He then heads off into the crowd, giving a laugh at the soaking wet man who hauls himself out of the pool.
The smell of venison draws him to the White Deer, and he steps in to enjoy a free meal of peppercorn venison.
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Drazh looked over at the Dwarven lass who sat next to him. Even cloaked as he was, he still stood out as being the only person in the tavern to be wearing armor. In his case, a beautifully crafted Breastplate, engraved with runes. Hanging from his back was a two handed hammer, similarily engraved with alchemical Silver runes declaring the need for vengeance. Then again, a dwarf with a hammer and a Breastplate was something easily chalked up to ‘cultural garb.’ Nothing too out of the ordinary.
Looking at her, he tried to place a face to the name. She looked...familiar. The Dwarven community of Sandpoint talked in hushed whispers out a lass who did not fit in. Was this her? He shrugged inwardly as he turned away. Not his problem. His problem, at the moment, was the lack of strong drink.
”Barkeep! What’s the strongest thing ye’ve got?”
Miron sees Anneka and his eyes go a little wide.
It has been some time indeed! And I hope I remember this correctly.
Perhaps to the surprise of Anneka, Miron signs back while speaking. And smiling, the biggest smile yet today.
"Hello Anneka, it has been a long time! You look well. I am having fun, even if slipping in the water game hurt my pride a little."
His cheer diminishes very slightly but remains.
"I heard about your injury, and that this was something you had learned. So I asked my mentors if they could recommend a tutor in Magnimar to teach me it. I hope I'm not too rusty or called you a frog or something. How have you been keeping?"
And the cheer resumes. He is genuinely happy to see someone he knows.
Ferocia laughs. Turning to look at the dwarf beside her she gestures at the fishtank. "That's the strongest thing he's got. If you can drink a hole cup of that swill in Norah's tank you win the bag of coins and get to mark the lintel with your name. Folks'll buy you drinks all night."
With a challenging smirk she asks, "Sure you can handle it?"
Ferocia laughs loudly and pats the man on the back.
"To Norah's Tank!" she shouts loudly at the bar's patrons, getting the crowd worked up.
After a moment she realizes the dwarf has included her in the contest.
Well, cr*p.
After Risa's kids are done, and they take their mother home, Azalia decides to try the amusing water game that someone had fallen into earlier, to see if she can do better.
Azalia manages to get around and ring the bell four times. As she begins to lose her balance she even manages to hop down onto the soft dry cushions. Later in the day Azalia is informed she won the competition and is given the prize, an elegant silver letter opener.
The crow around Drazh and Ferocia cheer them on.
At noon, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon into the square, and after recounting the short parable of how Desna first fell to earth and was nursed back to health by a blind child whom she transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid, they pull aside the wagon’s cover, releasing the thousand children of Desna—a furious storm of swallowtail butterflies that swarm into the air in a spiraling riot of color to a great cheer from the crowd. Throughout the rest of the day, children futilely chase butterflies, never quite quick enough to catch them.
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Drazh raised it up. ”Looks nasty.” He said matter of factly.
He raised as toast to his Dwarven compatriot, then to the crowd, and proceeded to chug.
Until there was nothing left in front of him. He...resisted the urge to throw up.
With a grimace he yelled ”Ach! That’s worse than the piss water ye call beer! Bah! Never thought I’d say this, but get me some bloody water!”
”An’ give me my winnings. The next round is on me!”
Milgen laughs at the butterflies, and even tries to gently lure one to his finger with a drop of honey, when they fly out.
Ferocia eyes the drink, recalling the disgusting taste....
"Oh, I hate you right now..."
And drinks...
Only to choke and gag half-way through her cup, spitting the vile, slimy water all over the floor.
"Ugh! SO not worth it!"
She pours the rest of her cup back into Norah's Tank and groans.
When the other dwarf downs the whole cup, she shakes her head and claps him on the back. "You're a sadist!"
She puts her own lost coin into the betting bag, and then passes the bag of coins to the dwarf. Then she points at the lintel, where the victors names are carved. "Congratulations! You can join those crazy fools in Hagfish history."
She then heads back to her seat at the bar to chug down the frothy mug of beer waiting for her.
When the dwarf eventually returns, Ferocia smirks and says, "You're welcome." Then she holds up her empty mug and tells him, "Top me up."
Ferocia rolls her eyes at the correction. After his introduction she replies in dwarven.
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She didn’t share her clan name. In the past he would have found it shocking, due to the possibilities that would have entailed. Now...it didn’t seem to matter so much. His face darkened as he showed his hand to Ferocia.
”Dranngvit. I’m hers now. My clan and I dug a mine outside of Sandpoint. Giants.” His fist clenched and murderous rage filled his eyes. ”They murdered my kin. My wife. The bastards laughed as they did it. I came here to warn the humans, but they’re too thick headed to take the warnings seriously. I’ll probably be leaving soon. Let the humans learn the hard way.”
One of the butterflies lands to eat the honey on Milgen's finger.
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Milgen entertains children by showing them the butterfly, carefully, not allowing them to do anything with it.
After it flies off, he makes a bow, and casts Prestidigitation, creating several colorful balls of fluff and light that he begins to juggle in the air.
Once the children are watching closely, he takes one hand away, and rubs an itch on the side of his nose. The small balls of fluff and light continue to juggle as if he was using both hands. Then the balls of fluff and light go zooming over the children's heads, and explode into confetti that rains down over them in pretty colors before vanishing.
"I heard about your injury, and that this was something you had learned. So I asked my mentors if they could recommend a tutor in Magnimar to teach me it. I hope I'm not too rusty or called you a frog or something. How have you been keeping?"
"You're doing very well!" she says and signs, clearly impressed that yet another has learned to signal their words.
It does strike her that Miron had known of her injury, but then it had become fodder for the gossip that had surrounded the late unpleasantness. In addition to all the other tragedies that had sprung so suddenly upon the town five years ago--the murders, Casp's death, that of Atsui Kaijitsu, the cathedral fire, father Tobyn--Anneka Avertin had lost her hearing. It seems trivial now, in comparison to what all the others had lost. But to Anneka, it had meant a great deal.
And so the fact that someone from her childhood would go out of their way to learn to sign, well, that is a heart-warming thought.
"I've missed you, Miron! It's good to have you back in town. Are you back to stay, or will you go back to Magnimar after the festival, or somewhere else? Here, please have a handpie..." Mama would be cross if she knew Anneka to be giving away so many free samples, but she doesn't care. It's a celebration, after all, and the opening of the new cathedral. Now, at last, the town can forget all that late unpleasantness, and can lay its troubles to rest.
The butterflies, they're always Anneka's favorite part of the festival. When she was a girl she would chase after them, always hoping that any butterfly she found was an incarnation of Desna herself. It was a profound notion, to hold a god so near.
She watches with Miron, catching a glimpse of the nobleman Loztres creating magical colors for the children. She smiles. Everything is going so well.
Miron thinks of the tragedies that had befallen the town, Anneka in particular, and looks sombre for a moment.
But then he sees that his signing went well, which cheers him.
"I fully intend to stay, Anneka. My training in Magnimar has earned me ordination into the rank of Inquisitor in the church of Abadar. I asked for a posting in Sandpoint and barring unforeseen circumstances, that should be granted." he says with clear pride and no little happiness.
"If I'm lucky, most of my work will be investigation. Keeping eyes and ears open for tax dodgers and cheating merchants, that sort of thing. Maybe a bit of travel in the outlying areas, but based in Sandpoint for most of the time. I have been trained in the use of arms as well as words, though I hope that I will not need the former! But regardless, I am back and hopefully for good."
Miron gratefully accepts the pie and bites into it.
"Oh, how I had missed these! If anything, they're even better than before! And with any good fortune, I will be able to buy them daily!"
He stands with Anneka, quietly eating his pie and watching the goings-on. He is in no hurry and life for now is good.
Azalia enjoys the release of the butterflies, and says a quick prayer to the Goddess of Fortune in honor of her festival.
She notices a young sylph playing with the children, and she laughs with delight. Maybe I should get out more and enjoy the town. she thinks. I'm too used to being on my own. She gets up and moves closer to the show, using prestidigitation to add some additional confetti to the show, looking over to make sure the other spellcaster isn't offended.
Milgen grins as the new caster joins in with the balls, and uses the spell to draw forth a bouquet of glowing supernatural flowers. His white gloves contrasting sharply with the glowing flowers. As he bows to hand them to the dark caster, they explode out as eastern dragons that flit around her from head to toe blowing little trailers of fire. Of course, the spell is a minor spell, so both the flowers and the dragons are bits of fluff and dust that phase and shift, but it's still pretty.
"Well, colour me surprised." Ferocia remarks in common. "And here I'd assumed you were here for trade, ore or smithing. But vengeance..." She considers this. "Understandable. More worthy, at least." With a shrug she adds, "It's not just the humans. The whole town's got it's head up it's ass. Dwarves included."
After taking a deep drink of her beer, she frowns. "Giants, hey? I've never seen one around here. Plenty of goblins, though. Some fey, on occasion. Do you think they're headed this way? Or are you looking for a posse to help you get revenge?"
"Well, if you're looking for help, you won't get it from me. The Sheriff's more likely to toss me in the drunk tank than give me the light of day." She smirks and shakes her head. "If you can convince them it could hurt commerce, the Mercantile League may be able to help win over the Town Council. I can give you a name: Navarro. Tell them Ferocia sent you. But be warned, they're a bunch of jerks."
"There's the mayor, too. And the nobles, but I've got no way to get you a meeting with them. Short of being put on trial, of course." She laughs, apparently thinking this is funny.
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"Well, colour me surprised." Ferocia remarks in common. "And here I'd assumed you were here for trade, ore or smithing. But vengeance..." She considers this. "Understandable. More worthy, at least." With a shrug she adds, "It's not just the humans. The whole town's got it's head up it's ass. Dwarves included."
After taking a deep drink of her beer, she frowns. "Giants, hey? I've never seen one around here. Plenty of goblins, though. Some fey, on occasion. Do you think they're headed this way? Or are you looking for a posse to help you get revenge?"
"Can't rightly say where they are headed. Bloody raiders, they were. Haven't come by in the two weeks that I've been here. I was hoping to get the humans to raise their forces and hunt them down. Yellow bastards haven't got it in them to fight goblins, let alone giants. But a posse...no. Nobody's got it in them. Figure I'd be better off raising enough money to hire some mercenaries who are either good or dumb enough to join me."
"Well, if you're looking for help, you won't get it from me. The Sheriff's more likely to toss me in the drunk tank than give me the light of day." She smirks and shakes her head. "If you can convince them it could hurt commerce, the Mercantile League may be able to help win over the Town Council. I can give you a name: Navarro. Tell them Ferocia sent you. But be warned, they're a bunch of jerks."
"There's the mayor, too. And the nobles, but I've got no way to get you a meeting with them. Short of being put on trial, of course." She laughs, apparently thinking this is funny.
Drazh listened to this, nodding as he did so. "The Mercantile League...Navarro." He ran his fingers through his beard. "These fookers wouldn't lift their fingers to save their own children. But gold? Lass, I'd say ye've earned yourself another drink." Drazh said this with a smile which spoke of eagerly sought bloodshed. "BARKEEP! Ten gold from my winnings. Bring the lass her beer until she's had enough or is in the drunk tank. Whatever's less to her tab."
Milgen appears human, just with odd hair, which tends to look wind swept
Azalia smiles at the flowers and adds some embellishments of her own, not quite as flowing, but little hopping balls reminiscent of rabbits start bouncing around the children.
Name's Azalia. I run a pawn shop here in town. Mostly antiques, relics, some odd interesting things. I don't think I've seen you around here before, have I?
A new halfling run restaraunt is taking the festival as an opportunity to announce they'll be opening in Sandpoint near the docks with the unfortunately unapoetising sounding name of "The Drowned Rat" catering to halfling sailors and other folks.
They're giving out free samples of 'cabbage pie'.
Magister Moto an elderly human wizard who has taken up residence in Sandpoint orders some pastries from Anneka but doesn't sign and his lips are too well concealed by his bushy beard to easily see. He hands her a piece of parchment with his order scrawled on it. A once elegant hand for penmanship is now leaving shaky lines with blotches of ink on the parchment but it is still legible.
Milgen shrugs. "I've been here for a week or so. I'm Milgen, of House Lostrez. You likely know my Aunt Cassandreopeia, or Uncle Salizar, or my cousin, Halegrin?" He names two of the more well established merchants in the city, and their son, a slight young man with a shy disposition. "Aunt Cassandreopeia and Uncle Salizar are senior members of the League, so I'm sure you've met them." He leans in conspiritorialy. "Don't worry, I'm nowhere near as dangerous as they are." He assures her with a grin.
The dragons suddenly turn and begin to chase the children playfully with little gusts of fake flames.
"Wow, an inquisitor of Abadar! That sounds really prestigious, Miron! So you're an officer of the church now. Like Father Zantus! I'll visit Abadar's shrine really soon, and you can tell me more about your duties."
Anneka flushes with embarrassment when she's unable to read Moto's lips, gesturing to her ear and shaking her head. Even after five years, she remains self-conscious about it with strangers. Living in a small town, it was easy to forgot that most of the world doesn't know a thing about her. That's an odd feeling, given how well she knows herself.
All the blueberry pastries? Well, someone has a preference. She counts out the remaining dozen tarts, ten or so turnovers, and even a small loaf of pound cake dotted with the blue fruits. She notes that the pumpkin pies haven't been touched. It seems Milgen isn't the only one disfavoring gourd.
She carefully packages Moto's request, wondering how the old man is going to carry all of it, but just then he gestures, his mustache wiggling to evidence his words, and allows the bag to fall upon some sort of magical, floating disc near his knees. . With a wave of his hand and further mustache-wiggling Anneka takes for a "thanks," he hobbles away, his blueberry treats following behind him on his magical dish.
Anneka just stares, then gives a bewildered look to Miron. She would never get used to wizards.
Oh, of course. Cassandreopeia. Since you know her, maybe you can tell me... does she actually go by that name, or do people shorten it in conversation? Six syllables seems like quite a mouthful.
The bunnies take a final hop straight up and turn into birds, flying above the children's heads in colorful, intricate patterns.