Sandpoint is a small town on the Varisian Coast. Most of the buildings are single-story, constructed of wooden walls, wooden roofs, and stone foundations. The dirt, hardpack streets make for decent transportation by foot or horseback. Not even the light wagons, drawn by mule or ox, of the hinterland farmers kick up much dust. While there is some activity, the town remains quiet and conversations prone to eavesdropping.
Sandpoint divides into Uptown and Downtown. Uptown—not so cleverly named due to the literal exaltation of the buildings on a level bluff on the north side—is less crowded. Downtown resides on an easy slope running down into the harbor and river. Most Hinterland residents enter into Downtown through the southern and eastern entrances, both wooden bridges over the Turandarok River. Also containing the Harbor, Downtown seems much more active than Uptown. Besides, most residents believe that Uptown lacks anywhere to get a proper drink, an opinion that Garridan of the White Deer Inn would dispute.
A fifteen-foot stone wall and a gatehouse ostensibly protect the northern entrance. Gregor, an elderly one-legged guard, greets visitors amicably during the day. While Sheriff Hemlock assures of Gregor’s constant vigilance, most residents will be satisfied if Gregor will just hop over to the alarm bell and clang it a few times before a goblin raid.
The cordial and industrious people of Sandpoint greet one another in the streets by first name. Strangers and visitors are welcomed unless sporting goblinoid or aberrant features. Public magic users elicit uncomfortable glances from commoners, but are not arrested outright.
The residents are mostly Varisian with a few clear lines of Chelaxian descent among the wealthier humans, while other common races regularly do business in town. Many of the commoners only speak Varisian but the shopkeepers and anyone involved in politics or trade speaks fluent Taldan (common).
Today’s Date: 7 Pharast, 4711
Weekday: Toliday
Sandpoint Town Map and Legend
- Buy One Drink, Get a Friend’s Free at the White Deer Inn!
- Galen Valdemar is openly campaigning for mayor in the Sandpoint Market.
- 10 Pharast, Mayoral Debate at the Town Hall
- 13 Pharast, “The Fall of Aroden!” Auditions at the Sandpoint Theatre
- 22 Pharast, Election Day
- A giant monster of some sort washed up on the beach last night.
- Sheriff Hemlock is recruiting for a hinterlands patrol.
- There is a small group of full-blooded orcs staying at the Red Dragon Inn.
A huge shipment from Qadira drove the price of linen way down.
Price in copper pieces.
One pound of wheat 5
One pound of flour 9
One pound of tobacco 54
One pound of cinnamon 107
One pound of pepper 198
One pound of ginger 200
One square yard of linen 288
One pound of salt 520
One square yard of silk 900
Artthar strolls into town from the South. A pleasant breeze wafts the ribbons adorning his glaive. The half-elf pauses at the bridge which marks the Southern entrance to town, he notes the activity of the sawmill to the right, and the equally busy shipwright, downstream, on his left. An industrious place. Artthar thinks.
The Sandpoint Cathedral dominates the skyline. Artthar will have to check in with it's lead cleric, Father Zantus, at some point, but first to get to know the town.
Taking note of the rusty iron dragon perched on the roof of one of the nearer buildings, Artthar smiles slighly. Inns always tried to outdo each other, for over the top names, decor, and reputation.
His heavy boots thunking on the sturdy planks of the bridge, Artthar crosses into town, ahead he hears a politician braying. Tuning the man's voice out, Artthar moves into town until he finds the town square. Unfortunately, it is also where Mr. Valdemar is standing on his soapbox. Politics are not an interest of Artthar's, but the bulletin board is. Taking the glaive off his shoulder and holding it more like a walking stick Artthar strolls over to read the postings.
Madeleine matched quite well along with the crowd of farmers wagons on first look; however once a little closer it was quite easy to see that she wasn't hauling the same loads of cabbage and potatoes that the farmers were, the back of her ox drawn cart was filled with stone iron and coal. Finally here and a good thing too, I don't have much left to me after buying all this, but I should be set up alright to get things started now. This must be a place in need of another metal worker. She thought to herself.
As she took her turn to pass the mirror by the entrance to town she scowled a little, What's this.. "Take a moment to see yourself as we see you. she read rather slowly, having not had a lot of practice with the written word, and of course caught sight of herself, a rather imposing woman road dirty and scowling and immediately looked away embarrassed and let the scowl melt away, trying to put on a better face for the place her new life might be waiting.
Once she had managed to get into town through the crowd she steered her cart to the side where she had seen what seemed to be a member of the city watch, Excuse me sir, I'm lookin' fer a place I might be able to set up to ply my trade. Can you tell me where I could set up my cart and if there's anything I need to do before I start workin' "
Alicarus Vorasik walks through the gate like any other traveler. He looks like a common elf, albeit one with reddish hair, uncommon but not particularly remarkable. The accoutrements that mark him as more than he seems are hidden in the pockets of his long jacket; the markings that would condemn him in the eyes of the law of two cities are covered by shirtsleeve and more. The sword at his belt is a short one with a slight curve; many travelers carry blades for self-defense, so this too is nothing overtly strange.
You will need to blend in with the populace until you have set up shop, Alic. It is of the utmost importance that no one think you of importance, at any time, but especially now. It is the Mantis' name which will spread across the land, his reputation that will become legend and inspire countless thieves and scoundrels. Alicarus Vorasik must be simply another traveler who's wound up in this backwater town.
Alicarus makes his way to the town square quickly enough, where he moves into the crowd and mingles, listening to the man's speech about running for mayor. Note: Investigate mayoral candidates; determine scruples and honesty of each; investigate possibilities of working for one or more.
While in the crowd and listening to Valdemar's speech, Alic turns to any nearby townsfolk who seem friendly and puts on a smile. "Excuse me, but I'm a newcomer in town. Anything in particular I should know about Sandpoint, any events of importance or interest?"
Artthar notices the wagon heavy with minerals that creaks into town. He overhears the woman asking about setting up her trade. Artthar wonders what it could be. He is intrigued by the thought of a sea monster, but decides that such fancies might be better off for later.
Inn keepers are usually the best sources of information. Artthar decides to step into the Rusty Dragon to have a drink and see what the barkeep can tell him, but he hears Alic asking a passerby about Sandpoint. He decides to wait on the answer, before going in.
An odd man, his mouth slightly ajar and an overall stupefied look, stares awkwardly at Heie for a few moments before taking a seat next to Heie. The man smells of ale though isn’t armed with a drink. His head sways as if he’s on a ship while he tries to get a closer look at Heie’s armor.
“Say…what kinda’ material is that? Did Korvut make that for ya’?” he asks.
“It’s called kikko. Kikko armor.”Answers Ameiko Kaijitsu from behind the bar. Ameiko, appearing to be either the owner or an employee, is a pretty woman with seemingly rare Tian heritage as evidenced through her dark hair and exotic eyes. While still as beautiful as ever, puffy bags under her eyes imply another long night. ”It’s like…uh…chainmail.”
”Keekoo? Keyaku?” the man attempts.
”Close enough,” replies Amieko.
”So you some kind of warrior, then?” another patron asks, this one much more collected. Without waiting for an answer, he continues, ”You should talk to the Sheriff. We’re down to about…” The patron looks up into the air reciting names to himself and counting from his fingers."Four full-time guards. Town of our size should have way more. Heard the Sherrif’s doing some recruiting. Maybe you can collect some goblin ears with your…” The patron examines Heie’s exotic katana, ”…sword?”
”Close enough,” repeats Amieko. ”He’s right though. We could use some more but the town's budget is a bit tight. Sheriff Hemlock is usually up by the Garrison. That’s in Uptown on Mainstreet.”
Ameiko seems to scrub the bar while the odd man begins to nod asleep into a pool of his own saliva.
In response to Madeleine's inquiry, the city watchman’s nose twitches and his eyes dart back and form between Madeleine and Galen Valdemar. Obviously, the watchman is attempting to listen in but he quickly gives Madeleine his undivided attention.
”Suppose you could set up in the market for now. Plenty of room there. I can ignore ya’ for a few days but eventually someone will complain and you’ll have to report to the Mercantile League. Jasper’ll do you good there. Maybe fix you up with a loan if your competition don’t find out first. The League's over by the docks.”
The watchman stands on his toes to get a better look in the cart. "Looks like you're some kinda' blacksmith. That or you're training to be a miner. Or the opposite of a maid." He focuses his attention back on Galen Valdemar and then glances back at Madeleine. "If you're gonna' be making some kinda' shoddy forge then maybe set up where the kids aren't playing. Ya?"
Galen Valdemar seems to focus on points economic in nature and disparages the current work of Mayor Deverin in tactful ways. Galen has the pale skin and sharp eyebrows typical of someone from a Chelaxian familiy.
Valdemar suddently get's louder and raises a hand with a finger pointing to the sky as if scolding the gods.
"But let me assure you, this complacency with security will be the end of Sandpoint as we know it. Desna weeps! We even harbor orcs at our inns. At this rate, we'll be supping with goblins and ogres. And by that I mean, we will be their dinner." To this, some of the crowd applauds, some chuckle, but mostly the mob is beginning to dissipate and people going about their daily lives. A few line up to talk to Valdemar in smaller conversations. He seems approachable and available for more private questioning.
To Alic, the townsfolk returns a smile. "Busy time here in Sandpoint. It all just depends on what you fancy. I'll tell you this much, don't go into the Fatman's Feedbag. Worst tavern in town. You might lose some valuables in that place." The man raises a hand with two missing fingers. "Scarni," he says, as if describing a disease. "If you're the adventuring sort then maybe head out to a tavern and stir up some trouble. Like Galen said, we even got orcs in our inns now."
Nods in thanks to the advice, rankled a bit by the suggestion that her forge was going to be shoddy, but then masonry wasn't her particular trade after all. After a few more moments of conversation to get a few directions and orient herself she led her ox cart out into the market square and found a nice out of the way corner where she wouldn't interfere with business or the children at play and started to get set up.
First she unhooked the ox and tied it to a post, buying some provisions from the grocer and making sure the beast was fed and watered. Once that was done she got to work with the cart, assembling a small mobile forge on the back out of un-mortared stone and starting up the fire with almost mystical ease.
Once the forge had got to heating up she spent a bit of time contemplating what to make, staring over her selection of raw iron, and finally selecting a piece after what must have been ten minutes and getting to work on it, shaking water over the coals and building a pocket for the iron with her poker, working the bellows and getting into the swing of things. As she began to work she listened to the speaking of the man on the soap box... He's quite the blowhard, but I suppose if he's intent on increasing the business coming through it might not be bad for me. Hard to say without hearing 'is opponent though... Hmm that reminds me, I really must get over to that Mercantile league to get set up official like but for now I aint got nothin' to sell anyhow, just need to get people to know what I do. She thought to herself, drawing the hot metal from the forge and starting to set the hammer to it, thinking to make a good piece of everyday work to show her skills and drum up some business. A good simple iron skillet aught to work.
Alic widens his eyes at the man's hand. Dirty work, and unclean. Silas would have had the same fingers of whoever did that. Senseless violence, what did they hope to accomplish of cutting off the fingers of some backwoods townie? It appears my work is cut out for me.
"How awful!" Alic replies in a hoarse whisper. "The Fatman's Feedbag? I'll steer clear." Though the Mantis won't. "Orcs in the inns? Sandpoint is more exciting than I was lead to believe." Alic smiles and moves away from the man, resisting the urge to cut his purse. Not yet, Alicarus. Soon enough.
The elf waits until most of the crowd is dispersed and the other townsfolk have spoken with Vandemar, though he does stand close enough to listen in with his keen hearing.
Once he can approach Vandemar himself, he steps up with a smile. "A rousing speech, sir! I agree wholeheartedly--orcs in the inns, supping with goblins and ogres--these are dangerous times." More than you know... "You know, I heard that one of the local taverns is having a special deal on drinks. I wonder: Might you accompany me for some refreshments, this evening if not now? I would be delighted to pay, of course."
Adara makes her way up to Sandpoint from the Lost Coast Road, weary from walking all morning. She stops to read the sign and mirror hanging from a bent nail. Welcome to Sandpoint! Please stop to see yourselves as we see you! She smiles and adjust her the orange scarf on her head, nods to the guard, and heads towards the first inn she sees.
She soon finds a building with a metal dragon coated in rust adorning. A sign reads "The Rusty Dragon Inn." Perfect. She opens the door, looks around, and finds herself a seat somewhere.
Madeleine successfully creates an iron skillet of good quality, using up 3sp of raw materials in the process.
Artthar frowns. The Fatman's feedbag. Good place to avoid for now. I don't really have the coin to make me worth a robbers time, but I suppose they would knife me for my glaive. Anyway, lets see what's happening in here.
Artthar enters the Rusty Dragon, and walks over to the bar. Taking a seat, he produces a silver piece from his belt pouch, and sets it on the bar.
"An ale please. I'm new in town. Fresh up from Magnimar. I'm a priest of Shelyn, here to help out at the Cathedral." Artthar smiles.
"I'm the kind of priest who takes a very 'hands on' approach to my duties. Does Santpoint have any problems that need a 'special' touch? Dead that don't stay dead? Bandits? Fierce beasts? Local thugs?"
Perhaps the Tian lady has some more to say about Fatman's. Perhaps not. Artthar is not going to mention the place. If a crime syndicate runs the place they will have ears about. He does not want them to take an interest in him, because he asks too many questions.
Madeleine finishes making the skillet and looks it over for a moment, shaking her head a little, Hardly my best work, but it's a start She thinks to herself, hanging the skillet on a nail for a bit of advertising and goes back to make a couple more.
It takes her some time but she manages to work out another iron skillet, but once again it's hardly speedy or her best work and so she decides to try for something else, she mutters a little prayer to the metal that's always seemed to help and moves on to trying to make an iron pot.
Now she's getting more into the rythem of things, pounding the iron pot into shape rather quickly and winding up with quite a suitable piece of work to be displayed. Satisfied with her days work she extinquises the forge and packs things up for the day, washing up a little in the quenching barrel and heading back towards the entrance of town heads into the tavern beneath the rusting dragon. The immensely broad little woman hobbles her way slowly up to the bar with a rather pronounced limp on her right side, "Hello Ma'am, I'm looking for somewhere to stay a couple nights until I can get myself properly settled. Could do for a spot of dinner as well of course, what do you have around tonight?"
Galen Valdemar puts one hand to his face and another to his side in a gesture of thought. He scans Alic from head to toe, his eyes pausing for a moment at the hilt of a sword on Alic’s belt. Finally he speaks:
”I find it difficult to refuse a paying patron. Especially one who seems to have some sense about him. Besides, it’s best to get to know each elf in town. Follow me, I know which inn you’re referring to. We’ll chat on the way. The name’s Galen Valdemar in case you hadn’t heard.”
Valdemar is dressed in artisan’s clothing and not quite like a nobleman. The sharp angle of his eyebrows exhibit a constant glare, so it looks like the only way to read his face is from the nose down. Galen Valdemar leads Alic towards Uptown.
”I won’t bore you with anything too lengthy. I’m assuming you don’t know much about Sandpoint, you being an elf and I can’t say I recognize you. But we Valdemars are one of the four founding families of Sandpoint. Not a big deal, but my older brother runs the Sandpoint shipyard.” He drivels on about his seemingly unimportant family history.
Alic and Valdemar reach the front of the White Deer Inn. There are two beautiful wooden sculptures of stags on each side of the entrance. The Inn stands three stories tall with a stone first floor and wooden upper floors.
Upon entering, the inn seems desolate. Alic and Valdemar take a seat at the currently unattended bar.
Valdemar looks around the empty room. Then says to Alic in a hushed tone, ”Say, are you looking for some kind of work? I don’t mean to judge a book by its cover, but your cover's title says How to Get Things Done: The Condensed Version written by, eh, what's your name again? Sorry, I feel like I haven't let you get a word in."
Alic smiles. And so we begin... He walks with Valdemar, taking it all in. So, we have here a man who is descended from Sandpoint's founders--obviously a claim to greatness and at the same time a driving force that demands it of him. His older brother is already in a position of authority and power in town, which adds to his pressure to succeed in all things, or at least in this. A prime target... now it comes to planting the seed.
"Ah, so you are descended from greatness! It's well that I met you; it will be grand to learn of my new home from one who knows it well, and who may soon be in a position of great authority." Alic smiles and nods.
"Alicarus Vorasik, sir. I am indeed at your service and looking for employment. As for, as you say, 'getting things done,' I admit I'm a man of talents--and, more importantly, a man of connections." He looks to the mayoral candidate and raises an eyebrow. "Surely a man in your line of work knows the importance of connections."