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Matoska smiles and claps when the speeches are over, having found the whole ceremony quite beautiful.
After Shara leaves he decides to head into the festival proper and find something fun to do.
Turning to the rest of the group, he grins.
"I'm going to go find something to test my strength, perhaps a weight-lifting or arm-wrestling conpetition. Any of you care to join me?"
Waiting a moment to see if anyone is going to come with him, he heads into the crowds.
Spotting a weight-lifting competition, he walks over to it and stands in line.
I cannot think of a more purile waste of time. Efanydd says quickly. You get the feeling it was a knee-jerk reaction in the same way as if you were to throw a ball to someone they would lift their hands instinctively to catch. But I hope you enjoy yourself. And win of course. Or else what is the point at all.
Instead, Efan walks among the games, drawing every now and then on his pipe as he passes by wrestling, a tug of war, arm-wrestling, archery and half a dozen other games.
He turns his thoughts to The Harpy's Curse and wonders if the meagre amount of funds he had remaining would stretch to a ticket. His mother had been responsible for some of the greatest magical displays to accompany stage performance in all Varisia at the Serpent's Run in Magnimar. He had always enjoyed performance and opera since he was a young man and the fact that Allishanda was playing was a coup indeed.
When his thoughts return to the present he finds he has wandered nearer to the taverns that line this particular area of the town. Outside the Rusty Dragon he finds a crammed throng of people gathered at the outside seating, swilling pints of ale and wine by the bottle while serving staff bring out steaming bowls of appetising looking food.
But his attention is drawn to a solitary old human, of Tien descent sat alone at a two-seater table, an ornate bottle and two glasses in front of him. Also on the table is a beautiful old game board of ivory and jade. In two cups beside it are countless little stones, meticulously rubbed smooth and lacquered in white or black. Efan's interest is piqued immediately.
Excuse me sir, are you waiting for someone? he asks.
The old man looks up and Efan immediately sees he is blind.
We are all waiting for someone, are we not? But the water of the river flows on regardless of the thirsty man. he replies.
Efanydd groans inwardly.
More faux wisdom, just like the man I met earlier. What does that statement even mean? There is nothing profound in that, it is abstract nonsense.
However, he simply replies: Indeed. Are you awaiting an opponent then?
You know this game? the old man asks, sounding surprised.
I do not, though I find I am able to grasp the basic concepts of games of chance with little difficulty.
This is no game of chance, young man. the elder replies. Nor is it truly a game at all. This is life and death itself. Good and evil. The powers of the universe are represented on this board. One must surround the other, conquering it, only to be conquered in return like the eternally spinning wheel of life.
Efan ignores the postering and cuts to the heart of the matter. A game of strategy and territory then. I understand. Would you care to play?
Young man. he chuckles. It would be a pleasure.
You keep referring to me as 'young man,' but you should know that I am an elf and likely a greatly deal older than you, sir.
The old man gestures with both hands, palms up to the sky.
I am old for my kind. Do you accept that?
Efan nods and then confirms that he is.
And you are young for yours?
Relatively.
Then I am right to call you young man? More or less. For that is what you are.
Efan considers the logic of this and finds it a great deal more agreeable than his philosophical nonsense and replies;
Fair enough, good sir. Pour your drink and we shall play.
The old man chuckles again as he expertly pours the two glasses despite his blindness and slides one toward the elf.
We shall explore the universe together, my friend.
Bowing curtly at Matoska, Gao shakes his head. "I have been taught that the accurate blow is more powerful that with much strength behind it. Water chips away at the stone better than any chisel.", he suggests, before grinning. "Although, I wish you luck and strength as well.", he says. "I wonder if the cathedral would be open, so that I might see the wonders inside.", he mentions to nobody in particular. "Rarely do we have such grand monuments to the gods. A shrine in the house to all that would protect it is how we do it, yet the work of many at a single goal should not be ignored." He starts taking a couple of steps towards the cathedral, then shakes his head and turns back. "Or perhaps later, when there are fewer people. It would be wrong of me to deprive someone of their place in their own town's celebration."
Seeing a couple of acrobats dancing around the courtyards, juggling, Gao grins, as he takes a step in front of them, ushering a hand forward for a baton, then takes three more. Starting to toss them in the air one by one, he starts juggling himself, occasionally tossing one further away, then running to catch it. A minute later, as he finishes his routine, he drops one to the muddy ground, as a string of colourful glyphs shines on his arm.
He grins as he reaches towards the ground to grab the last baton, which floats upwards and remains hovering. "That is very impolite of it.", Gao says to the audience, distraught look on his face. Leaping in the air to catch it, it floats even higher, shaking as if to laugh at the man. He tosses the other two in the air to hit the first one, which darts to the side to avoid them, as Gao rushes to catch them, much to the public's enjoyment. "When actions fail, words must be a man's weapon.", he says, passing the remaining batons back to the brightly coloured acrobat at his side. "Honourable baton,", he says, bowing deeply at the flying stick, "Would you please return to your owners? They were so kind to give you to me, and I mistreated you on accident. I apologise." Floating downwards, the baton stops for a moment in front of Gao, gently bonking him on the head, then hovers back into the expecting acrobat's hand.
As the crowds laugh and rush forward with coins, Gao respectfully refuses, pointing at the several expecting hats in front of the entertainers, who pat the Dtang man on the shoulder and the back, laughing alongside the rest of the crowds.
Uriel, being a more reserved sort of man, just wanders the festival. He watches some of the others enjoy the festival but he himself keeps out of many of the festivities. He watches some archery competitions and other tests of skill, but refrains from enjoying them himself for the most part. He still seems stern and reserved, even during the celebration. When he finally comes across the arm wrestling, he watches for quite a while. 'Oh... what's the harm. Whatever has called me here clearly isn't present right now.' He steps up and sits down, his heavy, gauntlet-clad fist slapping down on the table. "Any prizes for the victor?"
As the speeches come to a close and the festival at large opens up, the new companions begin to make their separate ways, looking for entertainment or other pastimes. Shara finds Ameiko now out front of the Rusty Dragon, where seating has been arranged so people can sample the fare outside as part of the festivities. The main dish today is curry-spiced salmon, served in bowls with spiced rices and some fresh vegetables, and some of the year's first winterdrop mead from up north to drink. The food seems to only expand on the popularity of the sausages elsewhere, and there's already quite a crowd of people gathered outside. Ameiko herself is handing out the dishes, and she waves to Shara with a smile as she approaches. "Enjoying things so far?"
- - - - -
Matoska begins looking for a test of strength, and makes his way through the streets of Sandpoint in search of such a challenge. While there's no simple weight-lifting competition, a number of the men in town--especially those with muscles from hard work--have gathered near the Hagfish to participate in an arm-wrestling tournament of sorts. The man organizing it all is dressed in plain clothes, but is quite tall and strong-looking; he introduces himself as Ven Vinder, owner of Sandpoint's general store. "You're the lad's been working with Das, right? Care to sign up for the competition? He and I are usually the last couple in the running, but there's no shame in trying."
- - - - -
Rajuna takes his time to simply wander through the crowd, taking in the sights and sounds, and wondering if there's anything of interest. Eventually, he comes upon a small archery range set up at one edge of the town's main market square. A grizzled human man is perched on a stool, with a bow and a couple quivers leaning against a small table; atop it appears to be a large object, currently covered with a dark cloth. Surprisingly, there aren't many people approaching the stand, although a small group of children are some thirty feet off, excitedly whispering and occasionally pointing toward the table's mystery item. As Rajuna looks on, he notes with a trained and jaded eye that there's a hunter's look about the man; enough time among hunters of monsters lets you recognize that sort of driven nature in others.
- - - - -
Efanydd wanders for some time, before finding himself drawn into a game of strategy--and a conversation of esoteric wisdom, somewhat to his chagrin. The rules of the game are like those of any good challenge: simple enough to grasp the basics, but devilishly difficult to master. The blind old man is clearly a skilled player with decades of experience, but he also makes just enough risky maneuvers or accidental plays for Efanydd to pick up on strategies, adapt, and improve. It doesn't feel like the old man is toying with the elf, though, but rather teaching him without openly instructing. Whether the philosophical chatter is idle talk or part of some greater strategy, though, remains to be seen. A small gathering begins to grow around the pair, though, as particularly the older and more intellectual folk of Sandpoint take interest in the struggle of wits.
- - - - -
Gao finds an acrobatic display, mainly performed by some of the wandering Varisians who've come into town with a caravan. They gladly offer him some batons to join when he asks, and soon the crowd is laughing and cheering as he goes through an acrobatic and marvelous routine. When he finishes, most folk rush up with coins or pats on the back, but as he steps away, a woman dressed in clothing somewhat similar to his own, although more Varisian in style, approaches him. "I've rarely seen someone move that way," she says, looking the monk up and down. "Agile, controlled. You have training in the martial arts. Are you actually from Tian Xia?"
Shara waves back as she goes to join her friend. "Well enough so far," she says with a smile. She leans over and sniffs the air, letting the spicy scent of Ameiko's cooking fill her nose and make her mouth water. "A seafood dish? Jargie is going to be p*ssed if you manage to outdo him with his own specialty." She snatches a taste of the fish and licks her lips as the salmon practically melts in her mouth. "Looks like business is going well though. The whole tavern keeper things seems to be working out well for you."
Eventually, he comes upon a small archery range set up at one edge of the town's main market square. A grizzled human man is perched on a stool, with a bow and a couple quivers leaning against a small table; atop it appears to be a large object, currently covered with a dark cloth. Surprisingly, there aren't many people approaching the stand, although a small group of children are some thirty feet off, excitedly whispering and occasionally pointing toward the table's mystery item. As Rajuna looks on, he notes with a trained and jaded eye that there's a hunter's look about the man; enough time among hunters of monsters lets you recognize that sort of driven nature in others.
Intriguing. Raj sidles over and leans casually against the other end of the table. He nods a polite greeting to the hunter then offers, "Seems you've got them curious." He glances at the gaggle of youngsters to make his meaning clear. "And I'm a shade curious as well. What's it take to get a peek beneath that cloth, eh?"
Matoska smiles widely at Ven.
''Yes, I am the one helping Das. Though I hesitate to say im a lad, im likely far older than you.'' He smiles for a moment then turns to regard the rest of the competition.
Looks like this might be a challenge.
Turning back to Ven, Matoska nods again. ''I would be thrilled to join the competition.''
Pinning his eyes on Das, Matoska taunts him. ''Best of luck Das, try and have a little fun. I saw you smiling this morning so i know you're able to.''
Nodding to the rest of the competitors, he calls out loudly.
''Best of luck to all and may the best man win! Luck to you Uriel.
Spotting Uriel joining the competition, he wishes him luck as well, albeit a little quieter this time.
Sitting down at his seat he faces his first opponent and locks hands with him. Tugging with all his might be trys to slam his hand down right away.
The game is fascinating, even if the company borders on tiresome. Efanydd is respectful of the old man, but inwardly he shudders to think he will have spent his whole life cultivating foolishness in the form of spurious wisdom.
And the old man is incessant with it. Every move is accompanied by a description of the planets wheeling among the stars or the fates pushing the piece, not his hand or how he sees not with his eyes but with his heart.
The elf on the other hand leans forward with his elbows on the table hands steepled before him like a man in prayer and in some ways he was for there was no thing he worshipped more than deduction and logical calculation. This game may be ancient, but it was a useful étude.
For the best part of the afternoon the game continues, back and forth with territories won and territories lost. In his mind Efan imagined a great war with casualties on both sides but his dispassionate generals knowing that each pawn sacrificed was only to gain some later minuscule advantage and so it proves that at the end of the third hour he finally places his last black counter. The smoothness of the piece feels pleasant in his fingers as he places it, surrounding the last bastion of white and drawing the game to a close.
His strategy was excellent. His execution faultless. He even allowed himself a brief smile at his accomplishment.
Bravo, young man! Well done! I have played grand masters who have dedicated their life to this and they have not played with the skill you have shown. the old man claps delightedly.
Thank you - 'old man.' he grins. It was a pleasure to play you. he reaches across and takes the old man's hand in a firm grip, shaking it briefly. But really it was an exercise in deduction. What I could discern from you and how that would translate into you mental models toward the game. Would you attack, retreat, concede or fortify and which would you do at a given time and why?
A ha! the old man cries as if in triumph. But were you not reasoning to do the same? Were you not applying to the board what you thought you knew of me? You have not been playing a game as much as trying to understand the nature of humanity itself!
Efan can't help but scoff. But nevertheless he does smile at that and reveals a row of neat, white teeth.
We will have to agree to disagree, my friend. Psychology played it's part, but I was searching for the optimum strategy, not looking to find some deeper meaning.
And yet you found it anyway.... the old man replies. I am blind but I see more than you think and yet still not all seeing is believing. Good day to you young man, I hope you enjoy the Festival and everything that follows. he adds cryptically.
Efan nods and stands then, noticing the crowd for the first time but he more or less ignores them and pushes his way inside to find a drink instead. He felt alive once again.
"To you as well." Uriel stretches out his arm before gearing up for whoever sits down across from him, ready to let loose and enjoy himself a bit before he sets out again to find what he's come for.
Gao finds an acrobatic display, mainly performed by some of the wandering Varisians who've come into town with a caravan. They gladly offer him some batons to join when he asks, and soon the crowd is laughing and cheering as he goes through an acrobatic and marvelous routine. When he finishes, most folk rush up with coins or pats on the back, but as he steps away, a woman dressed in clothing somewhat similar to his own, although more Varisian in style, approaches him. "I've rarely seen someone move that way," she says, looking the monk up and down. "Agile, controlled. You have training in the martial arts. Are you actually from Tian Xia?"
Gao smiles at the newcomer, nodding his head in a small bow. "I am indeed. I am Perspicacious Gao Zhi, of Tian Dtang." He approaches the woman. "You honour me with your compliments, but I have merely threaded the shallows of the ocean of ability, both in the heavenly gifts and those of physical ability.", he humbly adds. "And who am I honoured to be addressing? One with knowledge of such distant places surely would be an interesting companion make? Are you from Tian Xia, yourself?"
Ameiko grins at Shara and hands her a full bowl. "If you want some food, at least take a full portion. I'm sure your uncle will understand." She laughs and hands a bowl to the next customer. "Besides, we have different tastes for seafood. Everyone knows Jargie has the best crab in town, and when we get lobster in it goes straight to him. I prefer the spiced fishes."
But Ameiko gives a soft sigh at the comment on her job. "It's going well, yes, and I love it, but... You remember how my father is?" She raises an eyebrow. "He hasn't exactly mellowed with age. I couldn't give two copper if he wants me to quit, but sometimes I wish my family weren't so..." She trails off and waves her fingers in a scrambled motion to make her point.
- - - - -
The man looks up at Rajuna and takes him in for a moment, then nods with a slight smile. "They say curiosity kills, but not half as well as a keen arrow." He glances at the children, and then back at Rajuna. "Normally, come festival day, it's two copper to look in the jar, one for the little ones. Or if you hit the target near center, you look for free. But for a man like you?" His eyes narrow almost mischievously. "Man with scars like that has stories. Tales of hunting and killing, and I don't mean rabbits in the woods. You tell me a tale, and you can take a look, if you like."
- - - - -
As Uriel and Matoska enter the competition, it's not long before things get fully under way. There are sixteen competitors, all told, mostly men from the town, but a couple of travelers join in, as does Savah Bevaniky, the woman who runs the town's armory. Straws are drawn to determine who faces who to start things off, and the competition is on--a double elimination tournament.
In the first round, Matoska is up against Jargie Quinn, the one-legged proprietor of the Hagfish tavern. Jargie isn't too big or strong, but he's scrappy and determined, and more from tenacity than anything he draws out the struggle for nearly two minutes before finally losing with a tired grin. Uriel finds himself up against Jesk "Cracktooth" Berinni, who owns the bar near the theater; the man looks like thuggish, but his demeanor quickly belies a keen wit and an easygoing personality. Still, he has some strength to him, and he's able to leverage a win after a bit of a struggle.
The second round sees Matoska facing Kit Sterglus, the second son of the fishmarket's manager. He's tall and leanly muscled from years of work hauling catches and equipment, and although Matoska is quite strong, Kit pushes back with more might than could be expected of him, and the surprising strength is able to eke out a win over the big Shoanti. Uriel faces one of the travelers to town, who'd lost quickly to Das Korvut the round before--he loses equally quickly to the aasimar, and strides off with a scowl.
In the third round, with only six competitors left, Matoska faces Larz Rovanky, the workaholic tanner. Larz isn't big all around, but his arms are thick and corded, and after a back and forth struggle he's able to defeat Matoska. Uriel goes up against a local tough who goes by Shard, a mercenary who helps guard the jeweler's store; although Uriel is doubtless stronger, he set his elbow in a bad position to start and isn't able to come back from the error.
In the end, the contest goes as expected, with Ven Vinder and Das Korvut locked hand in hand, eye to eye, in a mighty struggle for supremacy. Soon, though, things slow down, as the two men seem quite evenly matched. Their muscles bulge, and their faces redden, and neither seems willing to budge. A hush falls over the gathered spectators, and everyone looks on, wondering who will come out ahead. Finally, after nearly five minutes of mostly even fighting, Das growls, pushes, and falters. Ven lets out a slow grunt that becomes a cheer as he pushes his opponent's wrist to the table, and the onlookers erupt into applause. Both men rub their arms, clasp hands, and soon enough ale is being passed around to all the participants.
- - - - -
"You honor yourself with your humility," the woman says, bowing slightly. "My name is Sabyl Sorn. I own the monastery in town, the House of Blue Stones. It would be a great pleasure if you would come by. I don't have many students, or anyone to practice with, so it would be... well, an honor." She smiles, and shakes her head at the question. "No, I was born here, in Avistan. My father was an Erutaki, from the Crown of the World? In his youth he spent much time in Tian Xia, though, and learned from the masters there. He spoke fondly of that land."
Shara chuckles and takes the bowl. "Maybe you should work together instead of competing then. I bet you could make the best seafood feast the town has ever seen if you put your heads together."
Shara sighs. "Yes, yes, I remember what your father is like. If I recall correctly, didn't he try to forbid me from seeing you at one point because he thought I was a hooligan and a bad influence?" She just shakes her head. "No offense, but I really don't envy your family." She puts a hand on Ameiko's shoulder. "But who cares what your dad thinks? He's a grouchy old man with way too much time on his hands. You keep doing what you love and you'll be fine."
The man looks up at Rajuna and takes him in for a moment, then nods with a slight smile. "They say curiosity kills, but not half as well as a keen arrow." He glances at the children, and then back at Rajuna. "Normally, come festival day, it's two copper to look in the jar, one for the little ones. Or if you hit the target near center, you look for free. But for a man like you?" His eyes narrow almost mischievously. "Man with scars like that has stories. Tales of hunting and killing, and I don't mean rabbits in the woods. You tell me a tale, and you can take a look, if you like."
Rajuna measures up the man, much as he'd just been measured. He self-consciously rubs at the divot of missing flesh from his nose connecting the scar across his face. "This? Just what happens when you shave durin' an earthquake." He jokes and slides closer to the old hunter before continuing in a more quiet tone. "Got a better tale for you than that. Up-country in Ustalav - the Hungry Mountains - you been?" He wasn't revealing a secret - his Ustalavian accent was easy to hear for any Varisian. "Rugged country with razor rock outcroppings where it isn't thick with trees. Wet, upland, forests of fir and pine, drippin' with all manner of lichen and moss. Spongy ground that pulls at your boots and slows you to a trudge on a hunt." He lets the old hunter imagine what it must be like.
"And most nights - not every night mind you - but most nights... a thick fog, like soup, creeps into the vales and forests. The fog is so regular there, the mountain folk got a name for it - call it Mr. Grey or the Old Man, like it's a familiar face." Warming to the story, he continues. "Anyhow, rumors start coming down mountain about folks every-so-often gettin' taken by something in the mist - something that moves fast and stealthy, and giggles. No bodies are found, just a little blood. So I went to see what was what. Locals took to calling them 'Myrmydecs' for no reason I could ever track. All said and done, I figured it was goblins or their ilk... I was wrong."
He pulls up his leather pant leg to show a calf with a clean slash scar near the knee tendons. Then he pulls up his shirt up to show another, longer scar - just as clean and neat - crossing his kidneys. Raj drops his shirt and returns to his lean. "I got three or four more like that. I was setting traps and got caught out when Mr. Grey came for a visit... The first thing was this chittering, like a child laughing. Then the Myrmydecs moved on me. They come sliding up, like smoke in fog - slash - and sprint away. I barely saw the first one. It was tiny, maybe 2' tall, and all gray like it was made of fog. But the blade was real. I dropped my bow as it was useless. How you gonna shoot at smoke in fog when you can't see 5' in front of your face? I pulled a sword, for all the good it did me. They came from any side, one at a time, always from the direction I wasn't looking. Chitter, slice, and move off as I was trying to swing on them. They were going for my joints, ya see. Trying to hobble and wear me down. Kill me with blood loss maybe. I was a steer at the butcher shop." He concludes with a gallows chuckle.
Gao nods, offering a smile to the woman. "I would be more than happy to share what knowledge I have. And even more so to learn of the teachings here.", he continues. "I am but a...", he pauses, scratching his head. "simple hill in the mountain range of knowledge... That definitely sounds better in Dtang.", he chuckles at himself.
"I would visit when the festival is over, but for now, I would very much like to see what makes the people of this land happy. I would be honoured if you join me, and explain what's what?", he asks, hand waving over the festival.
Ameiko sighs as well. "No, you're right. Call it like it is, Shara--he's a coldhearted old bastard, and he isn't likely to change any time soon. It's just hard, since he's the only one around, these days. Ever since mom died, and Tsuto... I haven't even heard from him in ages."
After a moment longer, the young woman seems to snap from her reverie, and she smiles and returns to handing out food. "As far as working with Jargie, I'm not sure that'd go over so well. 'Too many cooks' and all that. Besides, the more variety the better, and they say competition is good for everyone involved."
- - - - -
The hunter chuckles at Rajuna's joke, and he listens in respectfully--and with interest--as he tells his tale. He looks at the scars with grim appreciation, and nods along with the telling. "Sounds like the fey, almost. Heard tell of plenty of strange things out there. Takes a certain kind of fellow to go out in a place like that, looking to do something about the danger." He holds his stare for a moment longer, then extends a hand. "Daviren Hosk, by the by. I run the stables in town these days. Anyway, I figure that story earns you a look."
The man turns and looks around for a moment, then lifts the cloth from the object beneath--a large glass jar, over three feet tall and almost two across. At first, it looks like it's just filled with a sickly green liquid, but then Rajuna's eyes pick out the gruesome contents. A goblin corpse floats in the brine, the skull nearly split in two by an overhand chop, as well as some other wounds across its body.
Hosk's eyes are lit up as he looks on the corpse, a mixture of pride and hatred. He turns back to Rajuna with a wink. "You tell me how you made it out of your trouble, and I'll tell you how the chief here got into his."
- - - - -
- - - - -
Sabyl Sorn laughs with Gao at the translation, and nods. "I'd be happy to join you for some time. I'm performing a demonstration this afternoon, once the swallowtails are released; maybe you'd like to watch, or even demonstrate yourself? I'm hoping to take on another student or two, and today's a good opportunity to draw some interest."
- - - - -
"I've been trying not to curse out people just for being assh*les as much these days. My teachers at the academy always got mad when I blew up doors when I got into an argument with someone." She frowns slightly. She didn't actually know Tsuto all that well. "He and your dad still hate each other?" She bites her own tongue, immediately regretting her words. "Eh, forget him. You found something you like doing. No reason to let your dad being a jackass ruin it."
"Sounds like the fey, almost. Heard tell of plenty of strange things out there. Takes a certain kind of fellow to go out in a place like that, looking to do something about the danger." He holds his stare for a moment longer, then extends a hand. "Daviren Hosk, by the by. I run the stables in town these days. Anyway, I figure that story earns you a look."
Raj shakes the man's hand firmly. "A pleasure, Mr. Hosk. I'm Rajuna. Just call me Raj."
The man turns and looks around for a moment, then lifts the cloth from the object beneath--a large glass jar, over three feet tall and almost two across. At first, it looks like it's just filled with a sickly green liquid, but then Rajuna's eyes pick out the gruesome contents. A goblin corpse floats in the brine, the skull nearly split in two by an overhand chop, as well as some other wounds across its body.
Hosk's eyes are lit up as he looks on the corpse, a mixture of pride and hatred. He turns back to Rajuna with a wink. "You tell me how you made it out of your trouble, and I'll tell you how the chief here got into his."
Raj clinically eyes the wounds on the corpse, then quips appreciatively. "With that part in his hair I'm pretty sure you didn't sweet-talk him in here for a bath."
Raj continues his story with a rub of his chin. "Well, like I said - they had me beat. I was blind in the fog and they weren't. With them all around, I had nowhere to run. So, like a trapped cub, I scrambled up a tree. Unless the bastids could fly, I thought, I'd make it harder for them to get at me and they couldn't slide away so easy in a tree. I climbed as best I could, bleeding like a stuck pig. The fog was thinner, the higher up I went. Gave me some hope of seeing them coming. A score of feet up and I was nearly free of the mist." Raj's smile is twisted by the facial scar. "I don't think they liked that. Their chittering sounded unhappy. Anyhow, one of the little buggers comes sneaking along a branch from this other tree, maybe looking to catch me unawares. He hesitated, seemed a little unsure of hisself. He jumped onto my tree just a few feet below me but didn't see me. That's odd I thought. I snuck down a bit and got a look at him before he worked his way down into the fog. He didn't have no eyes at all, just sort of indents where eyes should be." He nods as if considering the facts all over again, "I figured maybe they were like spiders and fog is like their webbing. Anything stumbles into the fog, they sense it and can hunt it. But the thinner the fog, the less good they see. So I dragged my ass as far up that tree as I could and waited for daylight to come and the fog to lift. I don't know if that idea is right, but I'm here and they never came out of the mist after me."
"Now, how did you convince that little bugger to swim in that jar?" Raj lifts a bow from the counter and knocks an arrow with the skill of long practice - getting a feel for the pull.
Ameiko grimaces at Shara's words, but she doesn't seem offended. "It's a hard relationship," she says, handing another bowl to a customer. "Father never saw Tsuto as more than a black spot on the family, a mistake and a dishonor. I don't blame him for leaving. I just wish things were better."
- - - - -
"Huh." Hosk frowns and considers Raj's story, then shrugs. "Can't say I've ever heard of a thing like that, but then, there's lots of danger in the world. 'Specially out toward Ustalav, from what I hear. Strange happenings, strange beasts. Makes me glad we don't have so much of that 'round these parts."
He turns to regard the goblin corpse, and the hunter's grin comes back to his face. "Goblins are pretty much the worst of it, far as I'm concerned. And the chief here, well, you're right. I didn't talk him in. This here is Chief Whartus of the Bonegrinders. They used to be trouble up and down the Lost Coast, attacking caravans, robbing travelers, burning farmsteads. That was about a dozen years back, the worst of it. I'd just come from Nirmathas, looking to open my own stable..."
The tale Daviren Hosk tells is a truthful one, although astounding in its details. He tells of a years-long war he waged--mostly on his own--against the Bonegrinder tribe, spurred mainly by the death of his prided stallion on his way to Sandpoint. It's quickly apparent that Hosk is a dangerous and competent hunter, having trained as a Nirmathi Irregular in his younger days, and that training served him well in his guerilla war against the goblins. The story weaves from heroic stands to gruesome raids, and the climax is his ambush of Chief Whartus in his own hovel, waking the goblin up just so it would see Hosk's face before the ranger plunged his sword through the chief's skull.
"...After that, I figured I'd made a good dent, decided to settle down. The mayor then offered me a reward for what I'd done, and I finally opened up my stable. The Goblin Squash." He nods down a street, presumably toward the building. "Stop by if you need a horse, lad. Men like us, we need the help we can get. I'd be glad to get you saddled up."
- - - - -
Come the height of the day, everyone in Sandpoint once more moves for the Cathedral grounds, where the second of the day's main events is set to take place. Father Zantus once more takes the stage to cheers, and he raises his hands. "When the world was young, and the gods had not yet mastered their ways, Desna fell to the earth." The beginning of the parable is familiar to every Varisian, as well as any who know of the gods; it's an old tale, common among Desnans and often retold to children across Avistan.
The story itself is simple and sweet: Desna is so wounded by her fall that she is forced to take mortal form as a butterfly, her wings crippled and broken. She's found by a small child, who gently picks her up and brings her to her home. At first Desna suspects the child is planning to keep her as a beautiful bauble, but it's soon revealed the girl is blind, and wants only to nurse the goddess back to health. During her recuperation, Desna speaks with the child and learns that she wants nothing more than to travel the world and experience all its wonders. So when Desna is returned to full health, she grants the girl her wish as thanks: the blind child becomes a magnificent butterfly, immortal and beautiful.
"So Desna brought the child out of doors, and held her up into the air. 'For your kindness, for your beauty, for your wonder, I grant you this. For all the days of the world, you shall fly free and joyous. You shall see all there is, know every wonder, experience every marvel of this world. This is your wish, and my gift to you.' And so, as Desna returned to the heavens and her fellow gods, she cast out her hand, and the butterfly... flew!"
With the final word, Father Zantus spreads his arms wide. On cue, a wagon in the center of the square is opened, and thousands of swallowtail butterflies swarm out into the air, a spiraling riot of color. The crowd lets out an enormous cheer, laughing and clapping as the beautiful creatures begin to spread across the square and beyond. Even as the gathered people disperse, many children begin to chase and wonder after the butterflies--never quite quick enough to catch them.
- - - - -
"You're father buys into the whole honor thing too much. I mean, there's remembering your culture and then there's looking for an excuse to treat a kid like sh*t. I can't say that I wouldn't have done the same. I certainly wouldn't have wanted to stay in a house where I wasn't wanted." Shara sighs, realizing that she's not really helping. "Maybe you and Tsuto can patch things up just between you two. Your dad may never like him, but he's still your brother and you still love him, right? Like I said, who cares what your assh*le dad thinks?" She shakes herself. "Well, this has turned into a rather depressing talk for a festival, hasn't it? How about we head over to the church together? I'm sure that the speech will be suitably inspiring and uplifting."
Sure enough, Father Zantus has a simple, but sufficiently inspirational speech ready for the Swallowtail release. The array of color is beautiful. Shara even grudgingly admits to herself that nature can create some wonderful things all on its own. She bids Ameiko farewell with a smile, and hopefully a bit better mood than their conversation had ended on, and goes to look for her mentor. If there are visitors interested in seeing him, she should at least warn him that they're about.
Nodding with a smile, Gao turns to Sabyl. "It would be my pleasure to join you in this." Holding out his hand, he grins. "And while Indomitable Liu Cho has said, Sometimes all you learn in defeat is that you were defeated, I don't believe this would be the case here.", he jests. "And may with every bruise come wisdom.", he bows.
-------------------------------
Gao listens to the story with almost child-like glee, and joins in the clapping as enthusiastically as any of the children, a wide grin on his face. As the butterflies take off, he extends a hand, hoping for a butterfly to land on it. A few moments later, he's on the lookout for Sybil, ready for a performance. "What would you be showing to the people, Sabyl Sorn?", he asks as he pats down his shirt.
Efanydd smiles ruefully.
So Desna took the blind girl whom she feared would keep her as a bauble and transformed her into a visage of her symbol. Interesting, one would think she would just restore her sight in gratitude. he shrugs with undisguised cynicism. My understanding is that even Priests with middling experience can perform such a feat.
Several men, probably Desnan worshippers turn slowly to look at him but he is unapologetic.
Still, the story is much better this way is it not?
The explosion of colour is impressive as the butterflies are released but he pays only scant attention as he notices the lady he met earlier making her way out of the crowd.
The investigator raises his cane to his temple in a motion of farewell and says; Good evening gentlemen before hurrying off himself.
Ms Alazna! he calls, trying to catch up with her. I beg your pardon. How did you enjoy the festival? I wondered if you had seen your mentor today?
"...After that, I figured I'd made a good dent, decided to settle down. The mayor then offered me a reward for what I'd done, and I finally opened up my stable. The Goblin Squash." He nods down a street, presumably toward the building. "Stop by if you need a horse, lad. Men like us, we need the help we can get. I'd be glad to get you saddled up."
Hosk's story starts fleshing out Raj's understanding of the leadership in Sandpoint. "Nice to meet a man who finishes what he starts." Raj says with respect for the hunter's deeds. "I may take you up on the offer of a horse... depending on some other matters. To that point," He places a pair of silver (not copper) coins on the counter. "Since you've got the targets all set, how about we shoot for fun and jaw a bit? The fact of the matter is I could use a little help. I figure a hunter - such as yourself - would have some wisdom about the local critters, wisdom I'd be willing to pay for. I'm here to get a peek of this 'Sandpoint Devil'; is that something you can help me with?" He waits for the other hunter's OK before addressing the target.
Matoska smiles when the story is over and claps when the butterflies are released.
when the crowds start to disperse Matoska begins wandering about looking for an amusing distraction.
One brief introduction and explanation later, and Quink is only too happy to begin discussing his research and hypotheses regarding old Thassilon and the scant ruins found here and there. As a rare expert on Thassilonian language--only in written form, of course--Quink is one of the foremost authorities on the context of the ruins, but even he has only some idea of their original purposes. "Take the Light, for instance," he says, sweeping a hand at it. "It was clearly once a tower of some size, and I'd wager we only see a fraction of the true ruin. But was it merely a tower, or did it have some greater purpose?"
Quink's latest theory, as he quickly begins to detail at length, is based on a half-destroyed relief some of his field assistants (i.e., hired hands with nothing better to do) copied and brought back to him. A few similar carvings show some sort of light or flame at the top of the tower, but this one appears to have lines indicating the source flowing away from the structure. "I can only speculate as to its intended meaning, but I believe, coupled with what we know of the warlike nature of Thassilon, that it may have been a weapon of some kind, launching flames or magical energy from the top of the tower." The old man pauses, then waves his hands somewhat manically. "But very few of my peers are willing to entertain such theories, let alone take them to heart. We may never learn of the ruin's original purpose."
- - - - -
Afternoon quickly gives way to evening, and perhaps a half-hour before sunset, people again begin to return to the cathedral square, although not everyone. Most of Sandpoints locals are present, as well as a number of travelers, but some have chosen not to watch the consecration of the new temple. It's a more solemn affair than the celebration that most of the festival has evoked, although exciting in its own way. Just as the sun begins to set, Father Zantus takes the stage once more. Most everyone knows the plan for this event: the priest will recite the rare and beautiful Prayer of First Dreaming, only used at the most sacred and beloved ceremonies of the Desnan faith. For any worshiper of the goddess, this is one of the most profound moments of a lifetime, and even adherents of other religions may find interest in such a momentous affair.
As the sky turns a brilliant pinkish red and the sun burns orange, Father Zantus raises his hand and casts it down before him, apparently employing a thunderstone to announce the beginning of the event. A sharp retort like a crack of thunder slices through the excited crowd; the noise startles a stray dog that had crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep. The buzz of conversations quickly hushes, and all eyes turn to the podium where Father Zantus stands beaming. He clears his throat, takes a breath--
And a woman's scream breaks the silence. The crowd looks around, and a moment later another scream rises, and then another, coming from farther south in town, deeper in the heart of Sandpoint. Then more shrieks break out, but these are different--higher-pitched, tittering, and inhuman. As the crowd begins to break and part, several low shapes race by. There's a disturbing giggling sound, and then a painful yelp from the wagon. Anyone who looks over sees the dog collapsed to the ground, its eyes wide, blood spilling from an ear-to-ear slash across its throat. As the red wetness pools around its head, the raucous sound of singing begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
Goblins chew and goblins bite,
Goblins cut and goblins fight!
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!
Goblins race and goblins jump,
Goblins slash and goblins bump!
Burn the skin and smash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!
Chase the baby, catch the pup,
Bonk the head to shut it up.
Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed,
We be goblins! You be food!
Shara's ears perk up as she hears familiar, high pitched voices. "Oh no. Not these clowns." She reaches back and pulls the ornate polearm from her back. "Goblins coming for all sides." She quickly points toward the little menaces for anyone else who draws arms.
Raj shoots as he listens to the old hunter. His first shot is good. As he considers the information, his shooting declines. "Any word on whether this beast is feathered or leathery? Anyone claiming to have a feather from this 'bringer of misfortune'?" He says with obvious skepticism. He frowns at his wide shot-grouping and says with a snort, "Looks like I need to practice on something a mite larger - like the broad side of a barn."
When Matoska first hears the Goblins' song he shudders momentarily as a quick flash of fire and burnt skin flashes through his mind. Gritting his teeth against the bad memories he takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.
Having found his focus he scans the crowds looking for the little green vermin while casting through his memories trying to remember pertinent information about goblins.
Spotting several of the little monsters crouching and running about he takes after Shara's example he points them out to others.
Cracking his knuckles, he moves to stand with his back to Shara's so as to avoid getting surrounded in case there are more goblins about.
Raj spies the little creatures and notes their positions. Then he melts into the excited crowd and stalks the nearest one. The wickedly curved blade slides effortlessly into his hand.
1st Spells (2):
Touch Good (6):
Arrows (20): --
Effects:
Gao nods at the audience, smiling deeply, before bowing at both them and Sabyl. "Like water carving a stone, one's persistence means more than their strength.", he says, taking a step back, he crouches, striking at the wind with few lighting quick movements with open palms, knees and elbows. He continues for several repetitions, and then changes stance to a higher one, as if trying to get as tall as possible. "And, just as one's fate must follow the divine protocols, so must their movement complement each other." The movements change to more fluid, and the more attentive can notice the subtle hand gestures woven into the katas. As he's finished, he bows deeply, his face widening into a smile once more. "And with the words of Unblushing Mei, to those who strive for perfection, it always comes tomorrow.", he notes, nodding with glee as a couple in the audience get the koan.
------------------------------------------------
Seeing the smaller forms scurrying around the wagon, his face appears sorrowful for the first time in a while as he glances over the dead dog. His eyes stare at the goblin holding the knife with equal parts amazement and disappointment. "बचाउनु" Taking a step back, he shouts loudly in an unnatural voice, as a wave of golden-white symbols unfurl around his body, as he breaks into a run towards the nearest big-headed goblin. "Yield, small green creature!", he shouts as he arrives next to the beast, arms raised in a defensive stance.
Efan listens intently to what Brodert had to say. He had no other evidence to go on that the man was incorrect in his assumptions as other scholars seem to suggest, and his theory did not seem outlandish in the least either. It was logical at least.
In any case, it was less the tower itself and more the learnings of the Thassilonians that he was interested in and it seemed this man would be a useful lead in that regard.
He is about to open his mouth to say something to that effect when he begins to hear the chant rising up behind him.
The eyes and ears are the prime tools for an investigator and Efan's were honed in the same way as a warrior might sharpen his blade. He immediately spots half a dozen green gremlin-like creatures darting around the town square.
Goblins. he hisses. Vermin, little more than pests. he says to Shara. And worse, utter idiots. But in numbers they can be deadly, keeping them at bay with that polearm of yours seems eminently sensible.
He closes his eyes and begins to summon the weird magic within his that had begun to manifest over the past several years. He didn't know the extent of it's power, only that it was very useful, and more than relevant given the current situation. Hairs on his arms and the back of his neck begin to rise as though he were charged with electricity and then a barely perceptible aura of force envelops him.
Then, with a flourish, he takes his cane in one hand and with the other pulls at the handle revealing a slender three-foot long blade that looks like an over-sized needle.
Mr Quint, please don't take offence but it would please me greatly if you were to go inside and lock your door. I daresay the town guard can handle this disturbance but if anything were to happen to you after how long it has taken me to meet with you, I should be very put out.
HP=10/10
AC=21
Psychic Spells: L1 - 2/3 remaining
Magus Spells: 0: Brand, Detect Magic, Prestidgitation 1: Grease, Colour Spray
Ongoing effects: - Shield
"Nasty little creatures," Uriel says as he draws his blade from its sheath. "Get to shelter! Go!" Uriel yells at the assembled crowd, taking up a fighting stance. "These vermin are no match for me, keep yourselves safe." Uriel's body blossoms with heavenly light, and he levels his blade at the goblins and shouts at them in their own language. "Лицето ми, кретини. Почувствувајте ја моќта на Ангелот на одмаздата!"
As more and more of the crowd realize what's happening, panic breaks out; Sandpoint may be a frontier town, but most of its folk are common people, ill-suited for danger like this. And more goblins are cropping up as the crowd disperses--a few more on rooftops about the square, and several springing out from alleys or down streets.
Shara points out the goblins she spots as she draws her ranseur, and Matoska cracks his knuckles in preparation for a fight. Rajuna draws his knife in the flicker of an eye, and just as easily begins to stalk through the crowd, moving slow and steady toward the goblin under the wagon. Perspicacious Gao dashes forward, mystic symbols wrapping about his body; he comes to stand by the stage, where the goblin looks up at him blankly. Efanydd and Uriel also use magic to bolster themselves, Efan to improve his defenses, and Uriel to better strike down his enemies.
Goblins are a curious breed, equally dangerous and stupid, monstrous and, in their own way, quite amusing. The goblin beneath the wagon seems entirely caught up in licking the blood from its blade, and it doesn't register the man stepping forward with a knife in his hand. The goblin beneath the stage stares at Gao, confused, and then chitters and slashes at him; the swing is wild, though, and the monk easily dodges back. The goblin on the roof lets out a mighty shout and proceeds to leap full-force out from the high ground--it rolls with the landing and ends up in a sitting position, apparently unharmed but dazed. One from the alley dashes forward and scrambles onto a fruit stand; as Matoska charges forward to attack it, it launches itself at him, cackling even as its blade misses his flesh. The final goblin near the heroes also moves for the fruit stand, but it topples over a basket, sprawling the contents across the ground to create a rudimentary obstacle.
Elsewhere in the square there is fighting. Father Zantus has drawn a starknife, and is holding one goblin at bay on the cathedral steps; near the northern streets, Sheriff Hemlock is engaged with two of the creatures, his mace and shield keeping them wary. This may be only the beginning of an attack, however.
"Your technique is... interesting.", muses Gao, as the goblin applies the good old 'flail wildly and hope for the best' technique. Gao takes a step backwards, as his arms start spinning around with utmost celerity. As he stops, the goblin looks up, surprised to still be standing, before a sandal lands square in his nose. The goblin's head, the rest of the little creature's body trailing behind it, hits the stage support columns with a resounding thud.
"Even the Emperor's chef must remember how to boil water.", muses Gao as he takes a step away from the small creature, beginning to run to aid Father Zantus.
AC=21
Psychic Spells: L1 - 2/3 remaining
Magus Spells: 0: Brand, Detect Magic, Prestidgitation 1: Grease, Colour Spray
Arcane Pool: 4/5
Inspiration: 4/4
Ongoing effects: - Shield 9/10 rounds, Arcane Pool +1 10/10
Efan runs one hand along the slender flat of his rapier and tiny crackles of arcane energy flicker along it's edge. He for one was not going to underestimate the goblins, no matter how idiotic they may seem at first glance.
He then runs up the cathedral steps, his movements lithe and economical, his long legs pumping, until he is in a position where he and Father Zanthus can flank the little creature.
Father, this is a rather dour end to proceedings, don't you think? Perhaps you should have ended with the flurry of butterflies! he jokes with cruel humour.
Rajuna silently cat-foots the last few paces to the wagon, hooks a hand on the footboard, and swings himself beneath the wagon causing the gravel to rattle under his sliding boots. Coming face to face with the blade-licking goblin, he drives the blade toward the creature's eye with a short, sharp punch.
1st Spells (2):
Touch Good (6):
Arrows (20): --
Effects:
Bearing down on the goblin standing on the fruit cart, Matoska waits until he gets close then leaps into the air. He twists in mid air so that he is on his side and aiming for the Goblin's chest, strikes at the goblin with the soles of his feet in a vicious and lethal drop kick. He lands on his side, and kicks upwards with his legs while pushing off the ground with his elbow to launch himself into the air and back to his feet.
Seeing a second goblin, approaching him and the fruit stand, Matoska debates with himself how best to deal with his foes. Deciding to ensure the first goblin is dead before engaging the next.
Exploding into motion, he spins in place in a full 360 degree turn before kicking out with his leg to catch the goblin on the fruit stand once more and finish it off. His foe down and quite dead, he moves forward a short distance and launches a vicious hook towards the face of the second Goblin.
Seeing Sheriff Hemlock outnumbered, even if only by goblins, Shara moves closer, carefully judging her range to make sure that the sheriff isn't in her way before she sweeps her hand through the air and unleashes a brilliant stream of multicolored light over the creatures.
Uriel finds the largest group of goblins that hasn't already been attacked by one of the others, and charges in with his blade drawn. The air around him crackles with divine energy as he swings the sword as if it were a twig, attempting to rend the goblin nearest to him in twain.
Even within the few seconds of the chaos, the crowd has begun to break apart, and as six souls within those gathered for the festival join in defending the town, the square grows more and more empty. Perspicacious Gao steps forward and plants a square kick to the goblin under the stage; its head snaps back and crashes against one of the timber supports, and the little beast collapses in a heap on the ground as the monk turns elsewhere. Efanydd moves to aid Father Zantus, who seems a tad hard-pressed. The priest takes a clumsy swing at the goblin, who laughs as it ducks back--clearly Zantus is more a man of the cloth than of combat.
Elsewhere, Rajuna slips under the wagon and comes face to face with the goblin. It has barely enough time to give him a blank stare before his knife gouges into one of its eyes. The goblin shrieks and falls back, scrabbling on the ground; it's grievously wounded, but still alive. Nearby, Matoska recovers from the full-air drop kick that sent his attacker to the ground in a pile. Quickly taking stock of the situation, he finishes the downed goblin with another kick, then steps forward with a blow from his other foot. The standing goblin seems confused for a moment, as the Shoanti is still a few feet away--and then the apple Matoska kicked catches it in one ear, and it staggers backwards with an angry yelp.
Shara moves to assist Sheriff Hemlock, spreading her hands before her. A spray of dazzling color blasts out, and while one goblin avoids the magic, the other is caught full on: its eyes widen in wonder just before all the strength leaves its body, and it starts to flop to the ground like a ragdoll. The Sheriff takes the opportunity to step out of reach of the still-standing goblin and spin, using the momentum to power a chop that hews the slumping goblin's head clean from the rest of its body. Uriel, seeing the roof-jumper unoccupied, moves in and slashes with similar strength; his blade splits the goblin's skull nearly from crown to chin, and he wrenches the sword free with a wet crunch.
Although the crowd is fleeing, for the most part, they haven't escaped entirely, and it seems there are more goblins about on the edges of the main square. Screams echo from streets and alleys, and not all of the townsfolk get away free and clear. The goblins in the square don't give up their fight, either, despite the sudden end that's met several of their number: whether emboldened by song, numbers, or simply foolish overconfidence, they fight on.
The goblin beneath the wagon, half-blinded and screaming in pain and rage, swipes at Rajuna with its rusty blade. The attack is wild, but it catches the huntsman off-guard in its ferocity, and he feels sudden agony as the ragged edge draws a fresh slash across one hastily raised arm. The goblin now facing Matoska has less fortune, as it shakes its head clear and tries to replicate his trick; its own kick has much less force, and the big man easily dodges the fruit sent his way. On the cathedral steps, the goblin facing Father Zantus cackles and turns to face the newcomer; its slice at Efanydd is quick, but his magic keeps him safe, turning the blade just before it catches him.
Casting their gazes about, those still fighting in the square can see a smattering of goblins here and there--movement on rooftops, a man in an alley beating one off with a broom, a pair of goblins trying to catch some butterflies. Although only a handful of the monsters are apparent in the immediate area, it's clear the attack is far from finished.
Shara frowns as one of the goblins manages to avoid the flare of light from her spell, but at least one of them is left vulnerable to Hemlock's blade. "Doing alright Sheriff?" she asks glibly as she instantly closes the distance on the surviving goblin. She twirls her ornate ransuer once and then violently drives the bladed end through the remaining goblin's chest.
"Father Zantus! Flee, get yourself to safety and help the wounded!" Uriel sees Efanyyd helping the holy man and decides to instead aid the closest member of the townsfolk that is under attack. He prioritizes whichever person he believes to be in the worst shape, charging in at the little beasts. Uriel whips his blade around to give the citizen time to flee before assaulting the goblins.
Blood flows from the deep wound in his arm as the scarred Varisian implacably pursues the goblin. A matching blade slides into his other fist. Both weapons flick and twirl restlessly on Raj's thumbs, presenting shifting angles of threat and attack. As the green munchkin falters in tracking the weapons, Raj strikes - delivering horizontal slashes from opposite sides, trying to snag and gut the goblin from both sides.
1st Spells (2):
Touch Good (6):
Arrows (20): --
Effects:
Throwing back his head Matoska laughs at the Goblin's attempt to hurt him by flinging fruit at him. Switching to the Goblin's own tongue he chastises the little beast.
Rushing forward, Matoska quickly clears the distance between he and the goblin, carefully darting between the spilled fruit to avoid face planting. Coming to stop in front of the Goblin, Matoska clasps his hands together over his head and brings them down to slam into the top of the Goblin's skull.
Efanydd parries the clumsy slash of the goblin and thrusts forward with his own attack but the small target is more difficult to hit than he anticipated.
HP=10/10
AC=21
Psychic Spells: L1 - 2/3 remaining
Magus Spells: 0: Brand, Detect Magic, Prestidgitation 1: Grease, Colour Spray
Arcane Pool: 4/5
Inspiration: 4/4
Ongoing effects: - Shield 8/10 rounds, Arcane Pool +1 9/10
Gao smiles guiltily at the sound of goblin head impacting wood, beforee running towards Father Zantus and Efanydd. Running towards the cathedral's steps, Gao notices a goblin half-trotting, half-frolicking towards the two, dogslicer in hand, and diverts his run towards it. Not breaking his stride, he passes by the green menace, spinning on his heel to deliver a sweeping kick towards its stubby little legs. As the goblin stumbles from the blow, Gao coordinates his momentum to land his elbow in the creature's chest.