Priscilla and Claudia
The halfling hostess overhears your conversation about the singing as she checks in on you. "That bard...is my lady Ameiko. She is the owner of this place. Her family comes from over the Crown of the World, and that is the language she sings in, from far Tien it is. Now, I hope all is to your satisfaction. Will you be spending the night with us? Our rooms are filling up fast. How about a nice hot bath after dinner?"
She clears away your dinner, which was full of unique eastern flavors and makes sure there is nothing else you need.
As much as he hated to admit it the druid was tired of sleeping rough and agreed,"A bed would be nice."
With his hunger satisfied the big man stands and stretched, raising his arms high over his head. Unable to control himself he made his way over the table with the halfling and the woman in the funny hat. He stood there and announced, "You did that child no favors by intervening."
Priscilla's ears twitch at the mention of a warm room and bath, and she nods enthusiastically. "You can always stick me in a closet if there's not enough room," she says with a grin. She is quick to clarify, however: "Although I would prefer a room."
Pris leans back an imperceptible amount as the towering man steps towards the pair of them, still intimidated by his stature. "Well, uh, you..." She starts shakily, slowly trying to regain her footing. "Maybe you didn't do them any favors by shouting at them! It looked like you were about to tear their head off, in our defense."
"Now, now friends! I can see there is a story behind your words. Why don't you all take a seat and tell me about it, while we share a drink." The words are spoken by the exotic entertainer, Ameiko, who has finished her set and stepped down off the stage. Her delicate features are more lovely up close, and her eyes are bright, but hard like steel as she offers to mediate whatever is happening here. She has the stringed lute-like instrument slung over her shoulder and broad smile on her face.
"Bethany, bring us a bottle of the fine wine, not the common stuff, but my special collection"
Once everyone sits, Ameiko prompts the conversation. "I am a collector of stories, friends. Please tell me what prompts a disagreement between you strangely paired folks."
Her eyes, the entertainer's eyes are what convinced Rotomo to sit. He had intended to say his words and return to his table but he stayed to watch Ameiko's lively yet hard eyes. The big man took a seat lost for a moment before he realized the minstrel was waiting for an explanation, "These two thought it was appropriate to interfere with the disciple of a thief." He shakes his head as he crossed his arms over his chest, "And now they are responsible for every purse she cuts or item she steals."
"I would like to get a room as well ma'am."
"My large friend, I did what I did to save you, not them. A great many people consider your people to be barbarians, and that crowd could have quickly turned on you had you actually assaulted a child."
"No need to thank me though."
"Um...Miss Ameiko, your music was beautiful, and you have a really nice place here."
The wine comes and Ameiko sees that it is poured all around. "Thank you child," she says to Claudia. "Was something stolen then or was this child-thief foiled in her larceny? There are times when taking something that doesn't belong to you is for the greater good, eh? Even the wise Shoanti must understand that. If no one was harmed, I say we all forget it, and talk about something else. Let me tell you a story about the time I stole something..." she goes on to regale you for the next several minutes in an attention-keeping yarn about one of her many adventures, complete with close calls and a happy ending. By the time she's finished, you can see how a master storyteller does it. It' possible there was even some truth to her story.
"Well then, I must see to the rest of my guests. Enjoy the rest of the wine with my compliment, and if you agree to end the squabble and act charitably to each other, I will make sure Bethany doesn't charge you for dinner...Enjoy your stay at the Dragon, my friends."
With that the bard is up and moving with a rustle of her silk kimono, disappearing behind the bar.
Claudia listens raptly to Ameiko's story, then watches her leave in a whirlwind of activity. Turning to Pris, she says "Well, this has been a most fortuitous day. I made a new friend," she pauses, looking at Rotomo, and then continues "or maybe two, I got a free dinner, and a nice bottle of wine. Life is good."
Pris sits back, enjoying the almost surprisingly adept storytelling of Ameiko, as well as her inn's exotic food and drink, before thanking her deeply as she leaves. The halfling chuckles in response to the idea that they made a new friend. "A fine day, indeed! Although, I don't know if we can consider our large dining companion here a friend unless we get his name...?" she turns the end of her sentence into a question, looking at Rotomo curiously. "Mine's Priscilla. Friends call me Pris. Jury's still out on what you can call me," she grins playfully.
After bidding his goodbyes he walks the short distance to the eatery he was suggested. Even from the moment he set foot inside he could see the milling all along the inside which suggested it was either a rather popular place, or every place was filled to capacity during rush for the festival. But given the smells coming from the kitchen he was willing to take the risk on the food, if only to cleanse his pallet of attempted dwarven salt poisoning.
"Haf a seat, sir. Ve vill be vith you as soon as ve can, ja?"
He wasn't as fluent in the language of his mother's people as he would like, but he'd picked up a phrase or two. Mostly from hearing his uncles great people in the yearly market square when the Ulfen traders would pile into the spring village and hock their wares. But he knew the look of a northman when he saw one. He double-tapped his breast plate with the top of his fisted hand and nodded in a greeting he'd seen so many times, and done more enthusiastically, he swore his uncles would have stopped their very hearts.
Seeing a table mostly cleared he starts towards it only to see some merchants, most likely Osirian by the look of them, slip around the small table and chat. He frowns before turning to see an empty seat at a table shadowed by the large Shoanti man from the line earlier. At the table are the halfling and the bashful woman he'd seen as well. He steps closer just at the exotic woman in the silk blouse walks behind the bar, catching only a small bit of their talk.
Stopping a respectable arm's length from the table he gestures at the chair with a mild noise in his throat to draw attention politely, "Seems there's a lack of seating at the moment. Would you mind if I shared the table?" He glanced up at the (what seemed to be) permanently scowling face of the Shoanti man and gave a nod, "Mr. Notprey, if I remember correctly."
Relaxing a little Rotomo gets caught up in Amekio's tale and lost in her eyes. In the end he holds his tongue out of the desire for a free meal and respect for his hostess. He tried not to grimace as he gave his name to the two woman who share the table with him, "I am called Rotomo."
He was beginning to relax again in the company of his new acquaintances when someone asks to sit with them. He stiffened at the man's reference to the earlier events and wonders if Amekio's admonition to get along applied to this man. Deciding not to risk upstetting the woman he coldly grunted, "Sit. I am called Rotomo."
"Hello sir knight. You are welcome to join us, but aren't you afraid that we common folk will rub off on you?" says Claudia as she eyes Alden's equipment and martial stance.
Priscilla inconspicuously straightens her posture to add a small amount of height to her short frame as the armored man approaches, almost nervous at his presence. The amount of muscled longshanks here was getting almost uncomfortable, though Rotomo still felt like far more of a wildcard than someone with a dove carved into their pauldron. The halfling nods to the knight and adjusts the makeshift cushion of her own bag. "Not at all," she says with a light half-smile. "My name's Priscilla. And you are...?"
With a nod of his head to the large man he accepted that at least he had some sense of humor. Or maybe it flew over his head. Either way he slipped his pack from his shoulder as the human woman spoke and he inclined his head, "Don't let the appearance fool you, Miss. I'm common folk myself, regardless of what I wear." The fact he grew up knowing a lord and playing with his children not withstanding, he was never more than a commoner and had learned to appreciate a person more than a title long ago.
Turning to the halfling he smiled and stooped just a bit before sitting to not tower over her, offering his hand to take her own gently, "Alden, Miss Priscilla. A pleasure to meet you." With that he slipped into the seat and felt a wave of relief from fatigue he hadn't known he was carrying until he was off his feat. As he settled in with a sigh he made a gesture to the group, "I came in as a representative for the dedication tomorrow. What brings the rest of you to this quaint little town?"
"I came here to speak to Ameiko....who was just here." she says as it apparently just dawned on her that she missed her chance.
Pris gives Claudia an apologetic look, "She'll be back around, she owns the place. You'll get your chance." Turning to Alden, the halfling smiles. "I'm on a vacation! Well, kind of." She shrugs. "Work's kind of dried up in Magnimar, so I figured I'd check out the festival out here. And if there's some odd jobs I can pick up..."
The druid doubts these outlanders would understand his reasons for being here and shares little, "This is just one stop along my journey."
Bethany returns with room keys for the guests. "There is but one room left, sir." she says addressing Alden. "It is small but tidy. Will you be taking it?"
The hostess is a bit put out about waiving the bill for dinner for the others, but after she stamps her foot a bit, she orders Morris to begin clearing the dishes. "We have hot baths available in the basement, if you wish, dear ones. If you'd like to be clean for the festival tomorrow, better make note early. Morris can only carry so much water in a day..."
The rate for the room is 1 gold crown per night. Meals are 3 silver stags each. The hot bath is an extra silver coin. Tips not included.
Claudia will give her a gold piece for the room, and another one for bath, tip, and breakfast tomorrow. She will then give Morris a 3rd gold piece, saying "Hopefully my request for a bath will not put you out too much, and this will help you have a relaxing evening of your own in the near future."
Pris follows Claudia's lead, putting two gold crowns of her own into the hostess' hand for the room, bath, and tip, though she winces internally - Hope there'll be some work I can pick up in the next couple days... running out of coin wouldn't make for a very entertaining festival. She only tips Morris three silver, however, wanting to make a small attempt at conserving her money.
Curious, however, she needles Alden and Rotomo both for a bit more information, if she can get it out of them before the carousing ends for the night (though she doubts Rotomo will unstitch his tight lips).
To Alden, she asks "A representative of whom? I don't recognize that dove..."
To Rotomo, she queries - "You say you're on a journey? Care to share where your ultimate destination may be?"
Any answers to these would likely either dissuade or be enough to satisfy her curiosity for the night, and given the drink is already working its way through her small physique, she is likely to exit the small party fairly soon.
As he rises from the table to retire for the evening the Shoanti replied to the halfling, his face plastered with the first real smile of the night, "How can the wind know its final destination." Not waiting for reply he leaves the small gathering, pays his bill, and retires for the night.
With a wave of his hand he shook his head at the woman handing out keys, "No thank you, Miss. I have lodgings at the temple for the night, I was just hoping for something warm to eat before I went there." A moment later Prscilla turned to ask him a question and he listened before answering, "I'm part of the clergy of Sarenrae. I came into town to be part of the dedication. Though I assure you I'm more ceremonial than anything. Just to stand guard on behalf of the clergy as more of a glorified guard than anything."
Alden makes his way to the TEmple at night, while revelry still reigns in Sandpoint. Many festival goers who could not get a room have camped in the streets up and around the cathedral, and the music, dancing, food and drink is certainly flowing. Sheriff Hemlock stands outside watching the proceedings with disdain -- his men ready to intervene if things get out of hand, but the partying seems peaceful for the most part.
When he arrives at the Cathedral, Alden meets the old caretaker, a humpbacked man with a shuffling step named Naffer Vosk, who shows him to the altar designated for Sarenrae, which faces the east, so as to catch the sun's first rays. "'joy yer vigil, guvner." says the old man limping off. "If ye need somethin' in t'night, just call out. I'll hear ye."
With that, Alden stands his vigil in peaceful meditation.
The rest spend the night in the relative luxury of the Rusty Dragon. The beds are not the most comfortable ever, but they are clean and mostly vermin-free, and the hot baths are luxuriously extravagant.
The house is quiet and soon all are asleep, looking forward to the next day - Festival Day -- with anticipation.
21 Rova 4717, Sunday, The Swallowtail Festival, Sandpoint, Varisia
The new day dawns clear and bright, without a cloud in the sky. Alden silently rejoices as the rays of the rising sun enter the temple, and lay bright and vibrant on the altar, illuminating it with near divine radiance.
The others rouse slowly to the smell of frying bacon and baking breads. Soon, after a hearty breakfast, the inn guests are ready to go exploring the sights and sounds of the Swallowtail Festival.
As Claudia comes down the stairs, it's clear to anyone who had seen her the night before that she had gone out of her way to hide her beauty. Shoulder-length, straight black hair framed her face perfectly.
Though she was about the same height, she now stood like someone who would normally walk would stand, and that's when one would realize she must have been adjusting her posture as she walked; other than magic, it's the only thing that made sense.
She wore a dark blue summer dress, and carried her travelling hat in her hands, which she sat on the table when she took a seat for breakfast.
Bethany is impressed by the change in Claudia's appearance. "My word, miss, but a bath and a good night's sleep did wonders for you. You'd best watch yourself today at the Festival or you are liable to steal some poor boy's heart!"
The breakfast is as delicious as it smells and you can see Lars and Morris busily loading a wagon out front with something that smells divine.
"It is the Dragon's gift to the town," says Bethany answering your question. "The noon meal is provided by the town's eating establishments free of charge on Festival Day. It is also a de facto contest to see which can provide the best food. The Dragon has won the last three years, much to the chagrin of The White Deer. Our entry this year is a spiced salmon, which seems to have come off very nicely. My mistress should be there at the Festival helping to serve. Run along now, you don't want to miss anything!"
Either individually or in groups, you make your way to the church-square where the festivities are set to begin on this day, the Autumnal Equinox -- the date of the Desnan holiday The Swallowtail Festival -- and the date of the dedication of the new cathedral at Sandpoint. The square before the church is quickly crowded as locals and travelers arrive; several merchants featuring food, clothing, local crafts, and souvenirs are there to meet them.
The turnout for the opening speeches of the Festival is quite respectable despite the number of fair-goers who kept late hours last night. Sandpoint's mayor, Kendra Deverin's friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to town and jokes that even Larz Rovanky, the town tanner and a notorious workaholic, managed to tear himself away to attend, much to everyone's amusement (except Lars').
Sheriff Belor Hemlock speaks next and bring the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the nighttime bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town's previous church several years ago.
The next scheduled speaker was local nobleman Lonjiku Kaijitus, but a it seems a sudden illness has kept him from attending the ceremony, which does not surprise the locals given Lonjiku's well-known dislike for frivolity and festivals.
Sandpoint's own master showman, 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 can't help bu throw 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!
Numerous games and contests take place during the day, including sack races, hide-and-seek, weight-lifting, balance-beam contests, tug-of-war events, boxing, archery, and the like.
Rotomo awoke before dawn and left the inn. Once the Druid was outside the confining structure he took a seat on the ground looking eastward, waiting for the sun to crest the horizon. He emptied his mind and focused on the beauty and strength of nature as he prepared for his day.
With his morning ritual completed the Shoanti eventually made his way to the dedication ceremony and quickly tired of the speeches and found the entire experience uninspiring. Once the onerous ceremony was completed he tried to find a game where he could test his strength against these soft outlanders.
Spells Prepared (CL 1st; concentration +3)
0 (3 /day, DC 12) — Create Water, Detect magic, Light
1st (2 /day, DC 13) — Cure Light Wounds, Shillelagh Domain spell Obscuring Mists
Priscilla dresses herself simply in the same gear that she wore the day before - a long cloak taken in around her heels, leather armor pulled tightly around her torso. Her bow was slung unstrung over her back, as she hoped that she could get in a little bit of advertising in between the festivities.
Of course, she felt a little underdressed when she stepped downstairs and ran into Claudia, looking several measures more beautiful than the night before. "You certainly look nice today," Pris grins, joining Claudia for breakfast if there's not any protest.
Out amongst the throngs of people, Pris feels even more claustrophobic than usual. Jostled on all sides by these tall folks, she quickly searches for the first diversion she can make out - of course, she had confidence in herself as an archer! While the idea of a hide-and-seek competition looked intriguing, she preferred to sell herself as a combatant, rather than someone who could just slip away if a fight got too rough.
"Thank you both." says Claudia to both Pris and Bethany. "I apologize about the disguise, but my caregiver told me that a 'pretty young woman travelling alone would be like a piece of land to a drowning man', whatever that means. She did make me promise to disguise myself until I got here, and here we are. Besides, I have made new friends," she smiles warmly at Pris as she speaks "So I'm not alone anymore!"
Following Pris out, Claudia will travel with her to the archery contest and make small talk.
As Rotomo growls about the crowd, he wanders off to see the entertainments of the day, looking for something where he can test his strength.
Priscilla, wearing her adventuring gear, makes her way to the archery plots while casting an eye on the hide-and-seek game as well. Claudia tags along for support and conversation.
Pris eagerly coughs up the silver, confident in her own marksmanship abilities and stringing her own composite bow to use against the target.
While her first pair of shots felt strong, Priscilla wasn't sure about the rest of them.
As Priscilla draws to the line at the archery pitch, she hears laughing from the gallery, mainly making fun of her size and the size of her tiny bow. "My boy's boy is bigger than that toy!" cries one man.
As she toes the line she sees, to her surprise, that Davy Hosk is one of her competitors. He nods to her with a wink and a smile. "Good mornin' lass, looks like yer a fair hand wit' that wee bow. I'll nae poke fun as those others, as I've seen many a wee folk bae a keen shot. Best o' luck, lass!" DAvy has a full-sized composite longbow
The other competitor is a young dark-haird Varisian man with his long hair swept back in a ponytail. He has mustache which is waxed and curled at the ends, and a small goatee on his chin. The man has bright flashing eyes and move nimbly holding a well-used shortbow. He carries a pair of shortswords in leather scabbards over with shoulder. "I am Jubrayl Vhiski. Well met. May the best man, or lady, win." he says charmingly enough. Though Hosk throws him a dark look whenever he acknowledges him.
he is no one to be trifled with.
The men toe the line, and ready to fire. Priscilla's first shot hushes the naysayers as she centers the bulls-eye for 5 points, her second shot is in the next inner ring for 3 points, 2 more shots score 1 point each and another misses the target entirely for a score of 10.
Vhiski shoots next and he centers the bullseye on 3 shots, hitting the next ring the other two times, for a score of 21. "Beat that old man," he says proudly to Davy Hosk who toes the line next.
Hosk only squints and frowns saying nothing. He then goes about a shooting display like few have ever seen, hitting the bullseye with all 5 shots, including dead center 3 times. With a perfect score of 25, Hosk is declared the winner. He takes the token prize and hands it to Priscilla. "Already have a few o' these from years past, an' mae sweet Hannah don't like me wearin' Old Deadeye's mark, eh? Yae take it an may his blessing follow yae."
Jubrayl Vhiski also approaches Priscilla after the contest. "Your shooting can use some practice, but you have a good start at it. If you need work sometime, come see me at the Feedbag. Bring your pretty friend." he nods his head at Claudia as well.
The Shoanti made his way to the arm wrestling table and takes a seat. When his opponent is ready he grasps hands and begins on the signal from the referee.
The first opponent for Rotomo at arm-wrestling is a burly shopkeeper named Vin Vinder. The man is quite broad across the shoulders, and his arms are thick and well-muscled. He has a red beard and a shaved head, and is dour in manners as he sits across from Rotomo.
When the signal is given, Rotomo takes the early advantage and never surrenders it, slowly wearing the man down until he gives and the arms crash to the table.
As sitting leader, Rotomo is obliged to take on all comers until he either beats everyone, or is defeated. The next man to take the oppposite chair is the smith, Das Korvut. He is bald with a gold ring in his ear. He curses with nearly every other word, cursing the chair, cursing the festival, cursing Rotomo. But eventually he is ready to wrestle, his arm corded with muscle from the heavy work he does each day.
After a night's vigil and some much-needed sleep that didn't involve the buzzing of a caravan driver's snores, Alden spends the early hours in prayer and washes himself in preparation for the duty before him. Despite it being more a position of show than anything, he'd come to appreciate even the smallest things while being in the Dawnflower's service.
When the beginning of the festival is announced he can only smile as he stands among the other representatives. All from different faiths, but all honor guards for the dedication. His only real regret was that he wouldn't be here for an extended period. Still, when the festivities began he took his leave to roam the grounds. As part of his clergy it was always an aspiration for them to work alongside others and not separate themselves. So while he was proud to be be a guard, he wasn't much a fan of the cloak-like scarf he wore as part of the ceremony. It served little purpose other than looks and despite his training he was still a northman and they didn't think much of frivolities.
Only the jeering of someone in the distance drew his attention and he turned towards the commotion. Before long he saw the halfling Priscilla competing in an archery competition and smiled. He waited some distance off, arms crossed and politely waiting for her attention. He had no skill with a bow, despite his training with one, but as a boy he use to fancy dreams of being a dashing archer. Times did change, "Good day, Miss Priscilla. Putting the people in their place are you?"
As Jubrayl Vhiski leaves, Claudia will chuckle and say "He's pretty full of himself, isn't he?"
Turning at Alden's approach, Claudia will say "Ahh, good morning sir knight. It is a shame we didn't see you at breakfast. How was your praying at the temple?"
Rotmom's stone like visage broke into a small grin as he dispatched his opponent. His sizes up his next opponent and kept silent at the man's constant cursing and theatrics.
Turning to the woman who spoke he took a moment to try and remember her. He hadn't seen the woman before he was mostly sure, mostly given the fact most men would certainly remember such a beauty. However after a brief pause he recognized the tone and eyes more than most else and gave her a smile born of his own addled expense as much as greeting. With a slight bow he inclined his head to her, "Far more scenic than I expected, to be honest. But it was a bit more removed from others than I like."
Waving a hand at her general appearance he raised an eyebrow, "I almost hadn't recognized you, I'm sad to say." With a faux-frown he reached up and tugged gently at the ceremonial bit of fabric draped over his shoulder, "Though if you could give a few dressing tips on how to not look pompous in this thing, I'd certainly listen."
Although Pris is pleased with her showing at first, her expression wilts a bit on her subsequent subpar shots, and especially when she is shown up by Vhiski. Still, Hosk's showing was quite impressive, and the Halfling tries to take note of his positioning and bow-work. He was certainly far above her, and she was humble enough to accept that she could always use some work.
She takes the wooden bow with a smile, nodding in acceptance. "Thank you," she does a small curtsy, "I'll keep it close, maybe he'll encourage me to improve my aim!" She tucks the wooden symbol into her tunic pocket.
"Well met..." she says hesitantly to Vhiski's offer of tutelage. She doesn't know why, but she doesn't quite trust him - Hosk's dark looks, or his pride, or his flirting at Claudia - something didn't sit right with her. Or maybe it was just her father's words ringing in her ears - 'Never trust a man with a goatee, little Pris. Men who spend their time grooming that sort of facial hair are spending time grooming their ego as well!' "I might have to take you up on that. Sometime. It was certainly a good display of skill, even if Hosk did end up besting you. My... 'pretty friend' would have to decide for herself whether to come or not."
As he leaves, Pris shakes her head in response to Claudia. "I certainly wouldn't want to be alone in a room with him. I doubt there would even be enough room for me in there with his ego!" She nods to Alden as he approaches.
"Well, trying anyway. Even if I didn't win, I doubt most of these folk could even hit the broad side of a barn!" She giggles at the knight's awkward pulling at his scarf. "You're a temple guard! If you don't look pompous, how will people know to come to you for protection and lectures on forgiveness?"
"I think he looks very handsome. I'm sure that you will save us all, should the need arise."
With an eye towards some of the locals now dispersing somewhat now that the archery spectacle is over he raises an eyebrow at Priscilla "I'm sad to say some of these people might be the broad side of a barn." After one particularly rotund man walks by he puffs his cheeks out a bit for show and gives her a smile.
As the women continue he lifts his hands in defeat and shakes his head, "Please, I'm nobody special. Ornate fabrics be damned. Though I am armed to protect you, I dare say Miss Priscilla could handle herself adequately if the need arose." He leaned just a little closer to Claudia and stage whispered conspiratorially for the halfling's benefit, "I certainly wouldn't want to get on her bad side."
Rotomo easily bests the cursing smith, who may be strong, but isn't used to this sort of work. The man leaps up cursing, in inventive and unique ways, and his string of profanity follows him as he stomps out of the arm-wresting area.
The final challenger for the contest is the grouchy half-orc street-sweeper that Alden had a literal run -in with the day before, Gorvi. The half-orc is already intoxicated when he sits in the challenger chair, taking a deep drink out of an earthen flask, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and belching something foul.
Settling in his chair, the green-hued janitor grips Rotomo's hand with a grimace, his tusks causing that to look more fearsome than usual. The contest is close one, and both contestants strain and sweat, but in the end, Gorvi gets just enough leverage to defeat the Shoanti druid, winning the brass goblet that was the prize for this contest.
"Gorvi always win against pinks!" he says groggily, taking the cup and staggering off to another part of the fair.
Rotomo took solace in the knowledge that it was a half orc that beat him and not one of the soft outlanders. Done competing and hungry the Druid wandered the fair looking for something to eat.
"My new friend Pris is quick of both mind and tongue. She's a pretty good shot, too."