There are pockets of civilization along the Lost Coast, and on such city is Sandpoint. Today is the day of the annual Swallow Tail Festival. Every year it’s hosted on the day of the Autumnal Equinox and just like every year the square before the church will be full of travellers, visitors, and townsfolk. There will be merchant tents featuring good, clothes, local crafts, spirits and souvenirs. This year however in the afternoon Father Zanthus will dedicate and consecrate the newly rebuilt Temple of Desna.
Five years ago the temple burnt down during a very dark time in the town’s history. This new temple represents the dawning of a new era in the town’s history. Today should be a joyous day.
Sometimes however things do not always go as planned. Its citizens have been unaware of the darkness that has been brewing deep under the town of Sandpoint. The city would find itself woefully underprepared for what was to come.
Fate however would intervene.
It managed to put six would be champions hoping they would stand in the path of this darkness.
Heroes you find yourselves on the morning of the Autumnal equinox, people from all over are coming into the city for the Swallow Tail Festival. The town is waking up. You have taken interest in the festival and you had planned to see dedication of the new temple - If only to say you were there.
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So this is where Father Gil thinks I need to be. A party of all things. At least no one here has called me a halfie like they did back home.
Rast traveled to Sandpoint from Trunau arriving only a day ago and introduced himself to Father Zantus as he had been instructed. Zantus knew of Father Gil and when Rastillian spoke of his passing seemed truly saddened.
Rast offered to help but was simply told to enjoy himself. The morning of the festival he makes his way to the new temple to find a spot to pray.
Lady, thank you for guiding my travel here and for guiding Father Gil to the afterlife. I hope I am ready for the challenge he he thought were to come... he prayed for over an hour under a tree.
A mix of excitement and trepidation fills Rast as the day begins in earnest as he truly hopes this is a place he can fit in. If not he is at least told there will be great food at the festival.
It was early morning, when the village wagons finally crossed the bridge into Sandpoint. A damp mist stubbornly fought against the dawn. There was a salty feel to the air so close to the coast. The discordant squawk of the gulls greeted Wyndel and reminded him of days long ago. Soon the sounds of a city waking distracted from the squawks. There was a buzz, as there always was on a festival day, an excitement in the very air. Wyndel's thoughts drifted to his Sari, his wife, and his children.
I hope Josep remembered to mend the fence around the goat pin. I will have that boy's hide if I have to track down the goats when I return! I know Sari thinks I am hard on the lad but he is the eldest and must set the example for the others. He is a good lad but needs focus. Erastil knows he is of better worth than I was at his age but that is no excuse.
Wyndel chided himself for not focusing on the task at hand and turned to speak with Master Dain who was in charge of negotiating the selling of the village goods. He gave the man a stern warning to use good judgment at the taverns. The man was a good sort, a great merchant, but had a weakness for wine and song. Wyndel would not tolerate such frivolity at the expense of the village. If it were soley Wendyl's decision their group would depart for the village this very day but alas the lure of the Swallowtail Festival was too great for the others.
I can endure one night in the city. I suppose Sari and the children would want to hear a first hand account of the Festival.
As the day begins to glow in the East, the young Varisian lies awake in bed watching the black candle sputter as it burns low. He forces himself to move, going to the pitcher of water to wash the night from his face. Even with his eyes closed, the candle, and what it represents, is all he can see.
Silent tears slide down his cheeks as he dresses to entertain and misdirect. Taking only his sap for defense, which he hides in one of his many pockets, he gathers a second head-scarf and the tools of his trade, setting them down near the door as he returns to the lone table, and the black candle.
He reaches into the small bag on the table and pulls out the final black candle, apparently identical to the others but unique in being the 40th. As he lights it from the stub of the 39th, and swaps it into the candle holder in place of the remaining black wax, he speaks softly in Varisian. "The anger, hatreds, and frustrations of your life can be left here, in these black candles to burn forever, but never again in your heart. Let Cayden lift you up in celebration of the things that went well in your life, in celebration of the growth and expansion of your children. Picture the grandchildren Simza must have given you by now. The things Loiza must have seen during his time on the journey. The laughter and cheer we know Donka must spread. The hope of life that Kizzy has always represented. We represent the joys and thrills of exploration in your life. Cling to these memories of the future in order to lighten your spirit, so that Desna can guide you to the final caravan, where we will all join you one day."
He presses the black stub into the small blob of black wax on the table, near the candle holder, before washing his face again. This time, as he wipes the water off his skin, a smile spreads behind the towel, an almost casual, gentle, welcoming smile. The grieving son has been replaced with the entertainer.
It is the entertainer who picks up his tools and leaves the small hut. It is the entertainer who waves at the revelers and greets them, looking to start a day's work, while the boy within cringes, wanting to simply hide away from the celebration which ignores how much of his world he has lost, again.
Two years ago when Kesni first started visiting the town of Sandpoint she remembered being overwhelmed by the noise. After making several more trips she had grown more accustomed to it, or so she thought. This trip into town she found the place buzzing, and all due to today’s festival. She had been in Sandpoint for three days and was grateful the festival was today because as much as she wanted to see it, she wasn’t sure she could handle another day in the busy town. She found herself yearning to be back in her quiet cabin far from the hustle and bustle of this place. Those damned gobs have been acting strange lately. I swear if they’ve touched my cabin I will wipe those stupid grins off their faces.
She was up and about early, as she usually was. Though Sandpoint could prove too much for her senses when the place was truly alive, she found the place much more manageable this early.
The festival had brought in people from far and wide and she had seen some truly bizarre sights. This morning she started the day seeing something, perhaps not bizarre, but rare indeed. A half orc, such as herself, praying under a tree. She knew there to be some dozen half orcs in Sandpoint and this was one she had not yet seen. She had also never seen a half orc so pious. She had no where better to be and this truly intrigued her. So she sat and watched the town wake up and the half orc pray.
Outside of town, in the dead of night, there is a lone dwarf. A lonely dwarf. It is dark, he is quiet, but he is awake. Kneeling in the dirt off the road, head down as if in prayer, he is still. But he is not praying to any God. No. The Gods have their time. But this is his time... and hers. The dwarf doesn't shed any tears. Just as the Gods have their time, so do tears. And his tears for her were plentiful, but long passed. And so the dwarf sits his silent vigil in the black of night and he thinks of her.
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Early the next day, the somber dwarf trudges steadily into town, an almost absurd number of supplies and equipment stuffed into a pack upon his back. He looks very much like a dwarf who, unsure about what to bring in his travels, chose instead to bring everything. He seems somewhat like a lost child, meandering around with no destination, lines of mild worry on his face amidst the crowd.
Me love... Is this... where I'm meant ta go?
The silent dwarf finds his way, seemingly by pure chance, to the foot of the new temple. He looks more than a little uncomfortable in the middle of the crowd out front. Uncertain of where he is even meant to stand, the dwarf shuffles left and right, avoiding the people as they move past him with a nod of apology.
Azorius had arrived into Sandpoint as a caravan guard. Once the festival was over a host of caravan's would need hired hands, loaded down with coin and local goods like the exotic produce of the glass works. For now he would take advantage of the opportunity to enjoy the festival and talk to a few of the visitors from around Varissia. It was a golden opportunity, and one he would not miss out on.
Desna was widely worshiped among the Varissian's but also amongst the Shoanti so the festival had drawn all sorts here. He's spent the previous night in conversation with a merchant from Riddleport. He'd definitely have to find his way there in the future.
But the festival could distract even his curiousity about the ancient histories of this mysterious land and he found himself wandering about Sandpoint to see the sights.
As the early morning comes to a close, the centre square of the city, at the west end of the temple begins to fill with merchants and vendors. They’re setting up to capitalize on the days events.
City guard begins showing up. Few of them seem comfortable and relaxed. The majority are wearing ill-fitting padded armour. Their helms don’t seem to fit quite properly and the spear and shield combination seems to weigh the majority of them down.
A shoanti man seems to be taking charge, pointing, directing and indicating where everyone should be and should go. He’s speaking with a woman and between the two of them they’re coordinating a stage that’s being built at the foot of the temple.
The city would know these two as the Sheriff Belor Hemlock, and town mayor Kendra Deverin.
The soon to be consecrated temple of Desna is an awe-inspiring sight. As you enter it, immediately your eyes are drawn to the beautiful stained glass windows that span from the floor to the ceiling of the back wall. As the back wall is facing east the light of the early morning shines in giving the interior of the temple a very serene glow. It depicts a scene from the battle in the age of creation against Rovagug. She stands high above the hideous beats wielding her Starknife preparing to smite down her attacker.
Although there are only a few of Desna’s worshipers in the temple at this hour, they take notice of you walking in. Although hooded, your heritage is noticeable. Being treated as an outcast is not a novel thing, and as a result you remain unbothered by the couple that left the temple upon seeing you.
You sigh inwardly thinking, unfortunate…, deciding it may be more peaceful to be outside you exit the temple and walk along the east bank graveyard ending your walk by the wall bordering the forest on the edge of the city.
Finding yourself a spot to dedicate yourself to Desna, you take knee under a tree and begin your day anew. After a few moments in prayer you hear a shuffling sound behind you, and someone distinctly kneeling down beside you.
Father Zanthus “Brother Cobble…I presume?”
The salty air, the early light, and the fresh air of a new day has an invigorating feeling. It wasn’t always this way however. Memory has a funny way of wandering. Some of your more vivid memories of this town in the morning come back all to suddenly. One night out, one drink too many, and one very sick young man.
Just like that group of men walking across the street. They’re exactly those type of ‘young men’ well older men than you were at the time. You recognize that walk all too well: the stagger in their step, the unkempt clothes and the worn look on their faces. It reminds you of days past.
As the group passes you hear “Wynnie? Is that you?” turning around you see Davian Simeonescu. The last time you saw him, you and four other boys were out on a tear.
Left on the small night table was one of the festival flyers. A small passage of it reads “…and come one and all to Varisia’s finest! BE amazed! BE delighted! BE entertained!”
Your thoughts wander to entertainment and to what act you are to put on today.
Cities are always so busy. A moment like this in the calm quiet morning is a small respite in the heartbeat of a city. You have always viewed Sandpoint as a supply point, more than a city, occasionally stopping in from time to time. Typically you enter the city through ‘backward’ means. The graveyards. It tends to be less populated. As you have kept your presence to a minimum, a half-breed in a Human city always draws attention.
Which in this instance is why it is uncommon to see another half-breed under a tree, accompanied by a human.
Staying somewhat out of immediate sight your mind begins to wander thinking to your trade and resupply. One of those things to trade is information. Shalelu vouched for you years ago and introduced you to the man in charge of the city defence. Belor Hemlock. He would be the man who wants that information.
When the hour would be a little more reasonable, you know Hemlock is always interested to hear about Goblin activity in the area, as the city has been prone to sighting.
This time however you have little information to provide. There have been far fewer, and far less goblins out in the forests as of late. At least in the area you’ve deemed your hunting grounds.
The temple is a sight to behold. Standing stoically on the east end of the city, she stands out among every near building. It is entirely out of place as the only large stone building.
You think to yourself Amateurs. The stonework although excellent by human standards, looks like a 40-year dwarf apprentice stonesmith made it. It brings a small chuckle a reprieve from the darkness that has been your world as of late.
Lost in the darkening thoughts at the foot of this temple you hear “Ye’ve arrived brother” standing beside you a marginally taller dwarf adorned in a greyed robe and very beautiful tabard embroidered with a purple butterfly addresses you. “Yer travels are over.” He places a hand on your shoulder looking up at the temple of Desna.
The morning came all to quickly, and your light sleep being complete you find yourself hungry and looking for breakfast and the Rusty Dragon had by reputation a great breakfast.
This place has been known as the ‘adventurer inn’. Rumoured to be owned by a fellow adventurer. You find yourself sitting at the bar. Looking around the room there are about dozen people clad in a variety of clothing, armour, and equipment.
None of them speaking, most of them inhaling whatever was in front of them at the time, it smelled delicious. It looked like some stew in a bowl of bread. The thick pasty sauce, filled with chunks of meat and vegetables made it look rather unappetizing however.
“What can I getcha?” Looking around you don’t see anyone owning that voice. Instantly your mind flickers thinking Was it a message spell?. “Down here elfie.” You lean forward in your seat a bit and look over the bar. Waiving back at you is a Halfling woman. “Breakfast elfie?”
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Staying on his knees and he looks up. The man is as Father Gil described and his face breaks into a grin as he stands up, wiping his hands on his pants before extending one. He speaks earnestly if uncomfortably.
“Father Zantus? My…. Umm….. Father Gil told me I should come for the festival. The new cathedral is a wonder of Lady Desna. I..um… anything you need done today? I don’t have much of a plan really, Gil had a vision that I would find my path here.”
Pausing for a moment. “It’s..um.. nice to meet you.”
The young Varisian moves confidently to the square outside the new cathedral, finding himself a corner between two streets so there will be plenty of room in front of him for an audience, and opportunities for more to be able to see him. He nods at the merchants and waves pleasantly at the other performers he's beaten to the corner as he sets his things out, including the second headscarf, placed both as a receptacle and to indicate the expected outer corner of his performance area. Once he has those things how he wants them, he slowly strolls out into the square, calling out as his own barker.
"Men and Women of Sandpoint! Wanderers of Desna! In celebration of today's events, I bring you feats of dexterity and balance, nimble fingers and quick wit! Follow me for a show sure to entertain!" With that said, he turns towards his corner and starts a well-rehearsed tumbling run back to his make-shift stage. The goal is to attract attention without working too hard before actually starting the show, after all.
As he gets into his stage area, he makes a point of holding up a pair of silver coins and dropping them in the headscarf. "If you enjoy what you see here today, please, remember, even Cayden Cailean has to have money to pay for the drinks! What's a celebration without some wine or ale, after all?" He reaches to his side, into the bag of juggling tools, and grabs four clubs. Placing one near the headscarf, he holds one of the others in his hand. "This is the simplest juggling pattern I've seen. I call it 'holding the club.' What do you think? No? You want them to move about? Very well . . .." As he talks, he starts flipping the one club, catching it standing up on the palm of his hand once, then twice. He simply calls out "Ha!" as he does this, pointing at it with his other hand and trying to help the slowly growing audience verbalize their interest, so they will gather more of an audience as he goes. Acknowledging the desire for more, he reaches down with his empty hand, and grabs a pair of clubs, setting them in motion in the traditional waterfall pattern. "Is this more what you had in mind?" Pausing for a moment, to prompt the crowd into making more noise, he continues. "Well, even this is kinda boring after a minute or two, so let's see what we can do about that."
He looks around at the people before him, selecting a pre-teen child that should fit the script nicely. He pulls a club from the waterfall with one hand while putting the other two in a single-hand pattern, and points at the child with the single club, under his leg. "You, child." He returns to the water fall and then back into pointing under his leg with single club. "Yes, you. Pick up that club and come here, if you would. Give her some encouragement!" He turns back to the crowd with one of the few tricks which ALWAYS gets them to make noise. "Okay, that's GREAT! Stand right there. Now, on the count of three, I want you to toss the club right HERE. You saw where that was, yes. Right HERE. When I count to three, I want you to throw the club right HERE. Got it?" Each time he says "here" he holds his left hand up just above and outside his shoulder, temporarily performing the triple waterfall one-handed. "Okay. You ready? One. Two. Wait. What's your name?" She answers "Mea." He steps towards her and drops into the single-hand triple pattern again and offers to shake her hand. "Very glad to meet you, Mea. Are you ready, now? This is Mae, everyone!" he cries as he returns to the simple pattern and moves back into position. "Let's try this again. One. Two. Wait. Are you throwing on three, or on the beat after three?" Mae looks confused, as is normally the case at this point. "How about you go ahead and throw on three? Got it? Ready? Three!" Mae misses the beat, as the children normally do, but throws the club immediately afterwards, and 'Dada manages to pluck it out of the air, dropping into the standard four piece waterfall. "Thank you, Mae. Let's here it for Mae, everyone! She did a brilliant job, didn't she?"
Azorius smiles "That sounds lovely, halfie." He chuckles and leaning over the bar he continues "Are you getting out to see any of the festival today or are you here til it's dark?"
Perhaps he could turn up some work here, it'd likely people came to look for adventurers. "I've heard tell that the owner of the establishment has traveled far as an adventurer but know little else."
”Winnie? Is that you?”
Wyndel winced as he heard a voice from his past. He turned and forced a smile,”Davian my friend. It has been many years...how have you been?
Davian does not seem to have changed much....poor soul.
Surely, Hemlock is up and about by now. If I wanna leave town as soon as the festivities are over I had better meet up with him now.
She heads for the center of town and sure enough finds the man directing the preparations. ”Sheriff, you have your hands full but I would speak with you briefly if I may?”
Rogar is broken out of his reverie by the approach of the other dwarf and dips his head respectfully. "'Ave I?" Is this where ye would go, me love?
The old dwarf regards the temple with the Desnan priest for a long moment before continuing. "Aye, I may 'ave arrived, but I 'aven't been traveling long. Ye know, adventurers travel around a bit," he adds, conspiratorially. His voice is soft and humble. He looks sad and proud, but mostly uncertain.
"Me name's Rogar Ulthain. Adventurer." Neither dwarf seems entirely convinced of that.
As the afternoon draws in, the square fills more and more per hour. Merchants and vendors everywhere, some of them start hosting challenges, some play to the crowd while others are pushing their wares. Just after the stage at the foot of the temple is complete priest of many of the related faiths to Desna appear outside the temple. The majority of the priests however wear the purple embroidered butterfly of Desna.
The crowds start drawing in as the heart of the city is brimming with life and activity. Shortly after the midday point music in the square begins, and the festival takes on a life of its own.
Father Zanthus smiles and takes the hand offered. “Ah yes, when Father Gil wrote to me of his vision, I asked him to send you to us for the dedication.”
He released the firm grip of the large half-orc. “I’m so glad you were able to make it in time.”
He turns towards the temple and motions to Rast. “Walk with me my son. My dreams have been dark as of late. I fear there is something disturbed. Something not right.” He pauses as the two of you walk towards the cathedral.
As you pause on your walk back to the Cathedral with Father Zanthus, you get a sense of something, something off, walking past a Crypt marked Tobyn. You however dismiss it and attribute the feeling to what Father Zanthus is saying.
Your performance over the course of the early morning draws several crowds in adoration. During your performance with Mae, it drew the attention of the guards, merchants and everyone in the area. So much so that it drew the attention of Mayor Deverin.
At the intermission of one of your shows you bend down to collect, the donations in a small bag you left on the ground. . Standing up you see a woman of just below average height, short auburn red hair, piercing eyes and a friendly smile. She waves “My my my! That was a spectacular feat! Hardly have I seen the likes of that at the festival.”
She pauses almost as if recognizing your face “Have we met before?”
A loud laugh comes from the little woman “Halfie…got love you point eared people. Just call me Bethie.”
She yells to the back for another trencher, the pitch and boom of her voice makes her seem a whole foot taller than the 3’4 she stands at. She flips her bright red hair behind her ear and answers “I might make it out for a little bit, good Ol’Rusty needs me though. If you’ve never been you should D-E-fintely make it out.”
She reaches under the bar, pulls out a mug, pours and ale into it and places it in front of Azorius. “ T’go with yer Trehcha! As Gimrund would say.”
She laughs again, as a Dwarf in the corner raises his hand up to give a certain halfie a choice finger. “ Ah Gimmie. The boss you say Elfie? Yeah she used to muck about from place to place. Hell of a woman that one is. She settled a few years back and bought Ol’Rusty. Ever since then the Rusty Dragon has been the place for adventurers to lay their heads”
Davian sways a bit “ Go on…go on…" he waves the people he was traveling off, and staggers back towards Wyndel.
“I’m good, I’m good! Living the good life my friend! Wynnie my boy!!!” He opens his arms wide, hugs the man, breaks off and places his hands on either side of Wyndel’s upper arms.
“I thought you dead! I haven’t seen you in …how long has it been?”
As you approach the Sheriff, several of the guards seem uneasy around you. You notice their murmured conversations. Two guards seem to be slowly edging around you, not in a threatening manner mind you, but watching you, as you approach their leader.
Hemlock startles as you speak not having heard you approach “Kesni…it’s you.”
He looks to the mayor for a moment “Kendra, if you’ll excuse me.” The mayor nods. Her attention drifts to a street performer juggling, she begins to applaud along with the ground and walks off.
Hemlock turns back to Kesni “Heck of a day to show up Kesni.” he waves off some of the guards that were edging in, his stern face would have been enough to do it. “I’ve got a few moments to talk. What have you got for me?”
The dwarf looks back at Rogar “Well Rogar Ulthain. Desna always welcomes adventurers and t’day of all days!”
He raises his hand and points it around the courtyard. “ We’re celebratin the Swallow Tail Festival t’day and y’er in fer a sight! The temple will be dedicated by Father Zanthus ‘imself. ”
He hands Rogar a flyer, and points to some of the merchants. “Look o’er there.”
He points to a juggling act that seems to be drawing a crowd. A taller man wearing a distinctive Bandana seems to be riling up the crowd. You notice that he’s very apt at his craft. “That’s what y’er in fer today. I hope t’e see ye around here for the dedication.”
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"Our Lady has not blessed me with dreams or premonitions as of yet. I... I am not ready for that." he declares the last but with a nod. Passing the crypt he looks over his shoulder but would not interrupt the experienced priest.
"I hear musicians, will there be dancing today? I only watch in public but I like dancing. I hope nothing interfers with today, I do feel moved by this whole thing." he pauses thinking he has said to much.
"Well I am happy to do anything that needs doing. Will my being a half-orc bother anyone in town? "
Rogar nods politely at the unnamed dwarf's enthusiasm, not entirely sharing the sentiment, and grudgingly trudges over to 'enjoy' the juggling act.
Well, that's diff'rent. I'm used ta hearin, "yer no adventurer! Get back ta work!"
The dwarf shrugs casually, jostling and shifting the mass of gear on his back easily. His basic clothing makes him look rather tame, but clearly the many decades of smithing lends Rogar no small amount of strength. He stands sturdily by as the juggling act wraps up.
Weird place. Halda ne'er said much about human towns.
The dwarf is uncertain what to make of the show. Sure, the juggling looks difficult, but what's the point?
Azorius sips some of the ale while the halfling woman finishes speaking. "Well Bethie, I'll have no shortage of caravans looking for extra security but is there anyone in the area hiring on oeoole with odd abilities."
"Do you know of any ruins near Sandpoint. Varissia is littered with them but I'm not too familiar with the west coast."
"Met? I'm not sure. I'm Gudada Purrun. Spent several years running around these streets until about 5 years ago. I left while things were . . . getting exciting?" He's obviously uncomfortable with how to describe the situation when he left. "My father, Djordi, used to smith here in town. I got back in time to say goodbye to Nadya, my mother, Desna keep her traveling. Did you know them?" His eyes glisten for a second and he gets a little more animated. "If you did, do you know where the youngest, Kizzy, ended up? All Mama said was she got away. I don't even know when she left, let alone where she got to."
Kesni grimaces slightly. ”I’ve been in town for a few days. As much as it’s not my scene, a part of me wanted to see what the festival would be like. I’ll be glad to get back to the cabin when it’s over.” Though she says she wants to see the festival, she looks as though she would rather be anywhere else now that the place has started drawing a crowd. ”Gobs have been acting strange and I don’t trust them to not burn my place down. Far fewer of them than I’m used to seeing but those I do run into seem excited and on edge at the same time. Both of which are bad news when talking about goblins. You know anything about it?”
Blood shot eyes, slurred speech, and he reeks of wine...I remember those days. Davian will not likely remember much of this day...unless...
Wendyl calmed himself opening his heart to Erastil and smiled warmly as the warm feeling of community with his patron filled is heart. He willed the soothing warmth into his hands and returned Davian’s hug with a heart felt hug of his own and imagined warm feeling of calmness flowing into Davian hoping that it would clear the man’s mind and fatigue.
”Davian, my friend, I was dead...so to speak...but I found life. Join me and we can get something to eat and we can talk of the last few years. I want to hear about how you have been!
You have noticed around town there have been several flyers posted up about the festival. The most common one to appear is this one.
Father Zanthus stops and turns to face Rast “Worry not my son, Desna will make herself known when the time is right.”
“Of course!” he laughs with mirth in his eyes. What a young an innocent soul….”You’ll have an opportunity to partake in the festivities, but I do have a request to make of you.”
Father Zanthus’ brow furrows “I will not pretend that you being a Half-Orc will go unnoticed, there have been many problems in the past with the little green ones in the area, and the public will likely see you as the same. However take solace in Desna my son.”
He raises his hands to chest level and opens them as if holding a bowl “Desna has her plans, and she has sent you here. To show the public you are an agent of Desna I would like you to be out with me during the dedication of Desna’s temple.”
You see around you the delight and enjoyment of all those seeing this man perform what seems to be a routine. The crowd oo’s and ah’s as the act progresses. It finalized with a large round of applause.
You also take note that several of the crowd seem to be depositing coins into a small hemp bag close to where he’s performing.
“Odd abilities eh? To be fair I’m not too sure. Maybe the boss? Maybe the city? Most of my days are spent with ol’Rusty.” She lifts her hand flagging down a smaller man coming out of the kitchen carrying a tray.
After the tray is places in front of Azorius “Ruins? Well theres the light tower just here in the city. There’s a few run down keeps in the area, and some old buildings that have been abandoned for years within a few miles. The Sheriff keeps himself in the loop on these things more than I mind you. You some kind of treasure hunter?” She raises a brow and looks up at the man skeptically.
The recognition sets in as Kendra looks at you. “Djordi the smith. I remember him, and I remember you now. I’m sorry to hear about your mother and father Gudada.”
She shifts a little uncomfortably at the mention and reference of the excitement of days past before continuing. “Ah yes…I did know of them, we met in passing a few times. Lovely folk, and no I haven’t heard about what happened to your sister. I’m sorry. Perhaps the Sheriff may be of more help tracking someone down.”
The mayor waves at someone in passing. “Lovely performance you did there, just astounding.” She says looking back at you.
Hemlock nods in agreement with this information. “I see, actually no I’m completely in the dark regarding recent goblin activity. Shalelu hasn’t made her round this season, and she’s a little overdue. We haven’t had many around town as of late, and my town guard have little to report in the way of sightings.”
He looks a little worried about the lack of Goblin information. He picks up on Kesni’s lack of desire to be in town, and through the few encounters they’ve shared he knows Kesni would rather be on her way. “Kesni, if you could stick around town for the festival, I’d take it as a personal favour. I have conscripted some of the militia for today, but I’d rather have people I can rely on.”
As your hand touches Davian, he noticeably stands a little straighter and the stupor from his eyes clear. He takes a deep breath uncertain of what just happened. Feeling invigorated he agrees “Yes. Yes! Yes my friend. Let us have food! You’re in luck today Wyndel, it’s the Swallowtail today. Which means, lunch is on me! Ha ha.” Davian winks, as you well know the Swallowtail festival provides lunch to the attendees. He wraps his arm around you and starts leading you to the town square.
"A scholar and arcane practitioner, the ruins have always been of great interest to me." To demonstrate his ability Azorious casts light on a coin and rolls it across his knuckles before putting it on the counter beside Bethie.
"I'm not saying I'm an Arch Mage or anything but I know a few skills and if things turn nasty I have basic training with a few weapons. More interested than discoveries than gold necessarily but we all need to make a living. It sounds like I should try talking to the Sheriff Hemlock and the owner of the establishment. I'm afraid I don't know her name."
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He raises his hands to chest level and opens them as if holding a bowl “Desna has her plans, and she has sent you here. To show the public you are an agent of Desna I would like you to be out with me during the dedication of Desna’s temple.”
He reaches slowly for the bowl hesitates but then takes it.
"Of course, I am honored. You... Like Father Gil you make me better. I have read the flyer and some things sound interesting. I know I would do well in the arm-wrestling but that is how people would see me. I want to wait and stand with you. That is a very good way to meet the town officially. All glory to Desna."
His grin is ear to ear and only the ax on his back betrays his martial abilities. Happy that once again at least once person overlooks the unfortunate circumstance that made him. He mumbles to himself.
"Food, games and dancing this is a wonderful town."
The old dwarf, extremely heavy pack still jostling on his back, wanders over to the juggler and dips his head politely, waiting for the conversation with Kentra to abate before butting in. "Excuse me, lad. Do ye mind answerin' a question?" Rogar points toward the bag full of freshly-gained coins. "What are they buyin' from ye? Do they 'ave to come back fer it later?"
He doesn't seem like he's trying to be rude. Just curious. And naive.
Rogar glances around in search of some goods that the juggler might have hidden away.
The young human seems distracted as the dwarf approaches, but his smile returns as he focuses on you. As you get your question out, he gives a quick, but heartfelt, laugh. "No, they don't have to come back for it, but they can come back for more, if they want. They are paying for smiles, for warm hearts, and even for good memories. They are paying to forget the leaky roof or the poor harvest or Aunt Sarah's cough, even if only for a few moments."
Kesni chuckles lightly at Hemlock’s request. ”I’m a little out of my element already here, Sheriff. I don’t know what help I can give but I will keep my eyes open as I always do. I will let you get back to your duties and let you know if I come across anything.”
Understanding dawning on the dwarf's face, his eyes get a bit wet at the juggler's response, though no tears fall. With a forlorn look, he says, "I don't think I'm ready ta forget. Not now. Not soon." Rogar shakes his head and offers a sad smile. "But tha's none o' yer worry. I think maybe what ye do is a good thing."
The dwarf gestures at the happy crowd. "I'm payin' fer their smiles. And so ye keep doin' what ye do."
With that, he reaches deliberately into his pouch and pulls out two silver coins, placing them carefully into the sack at the juggler's feet.
Rogar doesn't look happy, but maybe he's a little less sad for this interaction.
As you all start making your way to the festival grounds, you can clearly see the activity. It’s almost as if the entire town is crammed into the square and the adjoining side streets.
Up on the stage there are four people standing up there, along with a younger boy holding a trumpet. They seem to be in discussion. However you get the sense welcoming speeches are about to start. The crowd slowly seems to be milling towards the stage in an effort to hear what is about to be said.
Bethana’s skeptical look vanishes as a broad smile lights up her face. Clearly entertained by the display of Arcana she claps her hands. “Fantastic. Just fantastic.”
She jumps up, sitting on the side of the bar as to be closer to eye level. “Welp, if you’re looking for Sheriff Hemlock, he’s likely to be down in the square for the Festival. He’s doing a speech you know.”
With her hands holding keeping her secure on the side of the bar, she starts swinging her legs back and forth as if on a swing. “As for the boss, she’s on her way back from Magnimar. Should be back later today for the dedication of the temple. Or so I would hope. Ask for Ameiko. She’s kind of a big deal around these parts.”
“Thank you Kesni, I appreciate it.” He looks to the stage behind Kesni “It looks as if I am needed.” Belor nods his head and makes way for the stage.
Wyndel laughed at Davian's joke as they walked towards the town square, "You always made us laugh didn't you Davian. I have missed your humor, my friend. It saddens me that I must depart after the Festival. Perhaps you might travel with me back to my village? We can always use an extra hand before winter. The widow Thane makes the best apple brandy. You still like a good brandy? Nothing better than a warm brandy on a cold night after a good day of work. Our meeting must be fate, eh?"
Erastil knows it would do Davian some good to return with me.
As they walked and talked, Wyndel noticed a garishly dressed man speaking with a dwarf carrying a very large pack. It was the dwarf that caught Wendyl’s attention. Although dwarves were not uncommon in Sandpoint they were not many of them and they usually did not travel alone. Seeing the dwarf reminded Wendyl of old Samryn Steelfoot. Steelfoot had been coming to the village trading metal goods since Wendyl’s grandfather was a child. The dwarf was always popular with the village children because he had the most wonderful metal toys and told fabulous stories. Of course, Steelfoot’s best stories were told in the dwarven language and the dwarf always gave the best toys to those children that asked in dwarven. It had been several years since Steelfoot’s last visit to the village but many still taught their children a bit of the dwarven language just in case.
Wendyl greeted the dwarf formally.
Wendyl noticed Davian’s surprise as he greeted the dwarf in dwarven,”I learned as a lad.”
The somber dwarf bows his head gently at the formal greeting and gives a brief, casual greeting in response. Formality was never Rogar's strong-suit.
"לא כל כך רחוק מן האח, אבל אבא מן השבט ממה שאתה עשוי לחשוב. רוגאר אולת'ין."
Wha'd Halda say again. Extend yer hand? Grip firmly? Human customs are so strange.
Rogar gives Wyndel a sad smile as he offers his hand to shake. His grip is altogether too firm, painfully so, though the dwarf doesn't seem to mean any offense by it.
"Thank you for the advice Bethie, try to get out to see some of the sights when they can spare you here." He gives her a wink and finishes his drink before heading outside to see more of the festival.
Azorius headed with the throngs towards the square. He peers towards the stage and the four figures, trying to discern which one is Sheriff Hemlock reasoning that he should be up there if he is giving a speech. It might be easier to talk to the man later if he could identify him by sight.
As Hemlock departs, Kesni moves through the crowd towards it’s edges. The people do not make it difficult for her to relocate, most move out of her way hastily on sight anyhow. She hefts her longspear up to rest on her shoulder. It seemed the Sheriff and herself were both on edge though for different reasons. The talk of goblins made him uneasy. I guess it’s his job to be paranoid but I really don’t know what he expects me to help with. She leaned against a wagon on the fringes of the crowd, though where she still had a clear view of the stage.
A small human girl walked by openly staring. Kesni smiles warmly but only brings attention to the small tusks protruding from her lower jaw, frightening the girl and causing her to hurry off.
After a loud trumpet serenade, a shorter than average woman with auburn red hair steps up to the middle of the stage. She raises her arms to quiet the crowd. Sandpoint knows her to be Mayor Kendra Deverin.
“My Dear Citizens!” a slight pause for the roar of the crowd “Townsfolk, travelers, merchants, all of you my dear friends! Welcome all to this year’s festival! We celebrate in this year the consecration and the dedication of our new temple! ” The mayor raises her arms signaling applause and cheers. “You are all welcome residents of Sandpoint today. Our town chefs have prepared a feast, and remember the first round is on me! ”
Cheering ensues after her speech. Although some start shuffling away from the stage towards, many stay to listen to the next speaker.
A stoic shoanti man steps up to the stage, his face shows little emotion and his voice carries even less. Although he’s a very well built and strong looking man, his voice does not portray that in front of this crowd. This is the town’s own Sheriff Belor Hemlock.
“Thank you Mayor. As this year has been a dryer year please be safe around the night blaze. Also my deputies and militia will be available should you require them. ” He bows his head slightly “Let us have a moment of silence for those that we lost in this past year”
The mostly silent crowd’s spirits drop a little during the Sheriff’s speech. Either by luck or design the next man to come to the stage is flamboyantly dressed. He strides to the center of the stage in a grandiose manner. Many know this man to be the director of the theater in Sandpoint Cydrak Drokkus.
“Welcome one and welcome all to the festival. As we celebrate the completion of our new temple today we raise our glasses, and much as our talented actors at Sandpoint’s Theater’s latest production The Farseers Beauty. If you have fifty minutes, and a few spare coins make your way down to the theater. ” His melodic way of speaking captivates the crowd. “Today is our day to celebrate! Raise your glasses and enjoy!”
The crowd cheers loudly, much louder than they did for the mayor. All of you feel inspired to partake in the festivals festivities, the day seems a little brighter, the mood a little lighter.
Lastly, a very pious looking man takes the stage. His robes are a marked grey with faded purple embroidering. All do know him, this is Father Abstalar Zanthus.
He raises his hands as if holding a bowl, outstretched to the community in front of him. “My children. Desna has blessed us with a beautiful day to celebrate our Swallowtail festival, and dedicate later today the temple in her name. I pray that each of you receives the blessing of Desna today and all year.” He lowers his hands before throwing them to the sky. “Let the festival commence!”
As the priest ends his speech, with his arms outstretched, hundreds of Swallowtail butterflies appear from the tops of the buildings surrounding the square. These little purple creatures littering the sky begin fluttering around over the square.
As if they were acting from one mind, they all start to fly in a clockwise circular pattern and continue to do so for roughly the next hour before they disperse and fly off.
Anyone over DC 15, notices that after Belor’s speech. He and Kendra move off of the stage and seem to be having what looks from a distance a concerned and heated conversation.
The clockwise circular pattern the butterflies draws Azorius's mind to reflect. Desna was not one of the newer deities like Iomedae or Irori. She was ancient, had stood the test of time. He could only wonder what scrolls the archaic peers of the Cathedral might hold. This one was recently rebuilt however. Beyond spiritual the discoveries held within were limited.
Azorious knew he was not of a mindset for such things, the temperament for such things was not his currently, perhaps in a few decades. He had heard of those who wielded both the power of the arcane and divine. Still he had to marvel at the display, crafted just so to inspire wonder in the onlookers.
He had stayed for all the speeches and now would relax about the festival for a time, at the least he'd fill his belly and maybe later go to this theater if none of the activities caught his eye.
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Rast sighs as the butterfly's start flying. "It's so.... beautiful. Thank you Lady Desna."
He raises his arms and spins in time with the butterflies one... two... three times before he catches himself. He looks around sure people will think him crazy when he notices the Kendra and the sheriff talking. He watches for a moment and shrugs no able to hold a bad thought in his mind.
Wendyl turned from his brief conversation with the Dwarf, Rogar, and looked in the direction of a loud trumpet serenade and watched the mayor take the stage. Although he listened to the speakers, his mind was on his wife and children. The release of the swallowtails brought Wendyl's attention back from his thoughts and re-focused his attention. He noticed the mayor and the sheriff having a heated conversation. It struck him as very unusual in light of the time and location.
"I wonder what is going on?", Wendyl gestured towards the Mayor and the Sheriff,"Davian? Master Rogar? Does this strike you as odd?"
Throughout the festival grounds, there are varying contests, competitions and events taking place.
List of Festival events
Camber Toss
Arm Wrestling
Atlas stones
Sack Races
Square Dancing
Whist Tournament
Barrel Drinking
Pie eating
As you dance around following the butterflies, you notice around you there a children who start dancing in circles around you laughing and giggling. To them a large green man acting like a child is a novelty. A couple of the children are pulled away by their parents after they see your heritage.
Davian answers after taking a very long drink from an overflowing cup of wine. “Why my Winnie, it’s the Mayor and the Sheriff. If they’re not talking I’d be more concerned.”
He takes a second look after another long drink finishing the cup. Placing it down he continues "Now that you mention it though my boy, the Sheriff does look concerned about something and so doe the mayor."
He laughs quite mirthfully, picking up two more cups gesturing and handing them to both the Dwarf, and his companion. “I'm sure they're just not enjoying the festival yet. Speaking of, perhaps we partake gentlemen?”
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Rast will smile as kindly as he can being sure they can see his holy symbol. Anyone near by can hear him say "Blessings of Desna on you all."
As the festivities begin in earnest he is sure to keep a big smile on his face and his holy symbol displayed as best he can. After a bit he heads to the arm-wrestling to watch. He shakes his head after each contest but doesn't, make so much as a move to join in seeing the strength of some of the others.
Content to enjoy the day he simply walks about, eating as he can and looking about. Anyone that makes eye contact gets a smile and a blessing muttered at them.
Azorius decides to try his hand at the Whist Tournament. He's finding it tough having only played a little before but it's a stimulating diversion.
He sips at some ale while he considers his next move.
"Well, when you are curious, you go find out. If you are rude or afraid of consequences, you do so carefully. I think this is not the day for that." And with that said to the small group which had gathered around the dwarf, Gudada starts walking towards the pair. He stops a respectful distance away from the conversation, but not really out of earshot. He does look down, though, pretending to be giving them more space than he is.
Kesni remains leaning against the wagon for some time, simply watching. Well I was interested in this festival but it’s proving quite boring. I should have just left before getting recruited by the Sheriff.
She notices a few events going on but dismisses taking any part in them. Most of her life has depended on her not drawing attention to herself, whether it be running from the law in her youth or hunting in the wilds of Varisia. Then she sees a familiar face among the events. She watches as a half orc steps up to the table hosting the arm wrestling contest. She recognizes him as the same half orc she saw praying under the tree early this morning. Maybe I’m only bored because I haven’t even attempted to have fun yet...
She walks over to the table and waits for the half orc to finish with his current opponent. As he finishes, she sits across from him and offers her hand. She says nothing as they lock hands and compete in a test of strength. As they wrestle, she flashes her best intimidating snarl at her opponent.
She feels like she might have frightened some of the onlookers but whatever the effect of her display, it proved worthless. In the middle of the match, she became very aware of all the eyes on her and felt a slight wave of panic. It was a fleeting feeling but it distracted her and her opponent easily bested her. She quickly regained her composure and stood, facing Rast. She nods to his holy symbol. ”Pious and strong. I’m impressed.”
Wendyl is surprised when the garishly dressed man speaks up. He did not even realize that the entertainer had heard him asking about the Mayor and the Sheriff.
Perhaps there is more to this entertainer than I thought.
Wendyl watches the man move closer to the conversation and thinks that perhaps that is a wise course of action.
A wise man listens for snoring at a cave entrance in winter.
A quick scan of the square and Wendyl notices that the Pie Eating contest is the closest. As he approaches the pie table, his intentions are mistaken and he suddenly finds himself entered in the contest. The crowd claps as his stomach growls. There is no backing out now.
The first pie is very good and is quickly gone.
The second pie is even better...butter pecan...Wyndel's favorite!
Another pie is soon gone.
To Wyndel's surprise, the last pie was some sort of savory cold salted fish pie that smelled worse than it looked. He almost finished it but could not take another bite after seeing a single fish eye peeking from under the crust. Besides, he was here to listen not compete.
Although, it was very hard to listen over his own belching and belly aching.
The somber dwarf watches the festivities with a dour expression, purely accidental. He never really was one for games and now just isn't a particularly good time for him.
He does follow along with the juggler, not really sure what actually needs to be done about two humans arguing.
"They'll work 't out, won't they?"
The man you sit in front of seems to be rather intent on the game. He flips through his cards over and over. After your move he lays it out three cards in front of you.
"Aha! Looks like I've found a move" You get the sense that as the cards are laid out in front of you, that there are little moves left.
“Holy jeez….” says the man you sit down in front of. With trepidation and hesitation he man places his arm on the table and takes yours.
It's a bit of struggle to keep up the wrestle and over time you decide to let the competition end and back down.
You strain to hear as the crowd tends to be somewhat noisy, you overhear bits and pieces of their conversation. You hear something about a Kaiju, Kaiju….what’s a kaiju. Then a shift about goblins and something called a Lelu.
The townsman that just bested you, looks to be in disbelief of the actual win. He nods politely at you, and as quickly as he’s able to he stands up and walks away.
It’s very hard to hear anything over the feeling of the impending nausea, you did eat three pies rather quickly.
You find yourself becoming distracted with the drinking competition that seems to be going on. You think to yourself That’s no drinkin competition….
Azorius prepares his ploy hoping he can keep ahead of his opponent though it's certainly proving more challenging than he expected. "But how many more can you find?"
Inching forward, 'Dada clears his throat. "Sherrif? The mayor here said I should talk to you? Said you might know something about where my sister, Kizzy Purrun went?"
“All of them….” He winks as he lays down his next few cards, clearing not needing to bluff as the cards speak for themselves.
At that moment the crowd starts moving towards the center stage in dedication of the temple of Desna.
Belor focuses in on the elaborately dressed man. “Now that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time. Purrun…” His mind wanders to the memories of the town’s past as he looks up and down this man. “ Are you Nadya’s youngest? ” He asks, astonished.
At that moment the crowd starts moving towards the center stage in dedication of the temple of Desna.
As the festival continues, the residents of Sandpoint enjoy the day. The flowing drink, the fresh foods, the activities and the celebration intoxicate the crowd. As the sun begins to set, the orange glow of the early evening fills the town square. The crowd slowly starts to mill towards the stage outside of the temple.
Father Zanthus standing addresses the crowd. “My fellow Sandpoint citizens!” He’s surrounded by several clergy men and women from the temple. The majority of them Desna, however some of varying faith.
“Tonight, we dedicate this temple to the service of Desna, and her compatriots, it has long been in the making. The last five years have been in preparation for this moment. ” As he speaks, the crowd slowly quiets down.
He motions for to the crowd and his accompanying clergy to kneel. “My fellow Clergy are here to bless this temple, we dedicate in Desna’s name. One of our visiting brethren will bless this temple” The majority of the gathered crowd kneels and bows their heads in preparation of the blessing.