Time to dot in!
Dot~
Dot
The sun climbs, slow and soft, from its resting place. Lengthy shadows begin to shrink in its warm, happy light.
Today is a good day.
Sandpoint is a welcoming town, but not all of its days have been happy. Not many years ago was the Late Unpleasantness. No one remembers that today, however. Today is the Swallowtail Festival, and the town celebrates its new-built cathedral. Perhaps more than that, the people celebrate the good days to come that it represents.
The quiet streets fill quickly as the townspeople exit their homes and make their way to the square before the Sandpoint Cathedral. Mayor Kendra Deverin is there, near the platform placed in front of the cathedral steps. She appears to be greeting Sheriff Belor Hemlock. His typically unenthusiastic response elicits a slap on the shoulder and a laugh from the mayor before she steps up to the podium.
"Good morning, people of Sandpoint!" Deverin says with presence, drawing the attention of the crowd. "This first day of autumn is a beautiful one, isn't it? I'd like to welcome any visitors to our Swallowtail Festival..." she continues for a short while, and one can feel the mood continue to brighten as the good mayor speaks. Deverin relinquishes her place to Sheriff Hemlock, who delivers a speech in monotone about staying safe around the bonfire that will be held in the evening, and requests a moment of silence for the townsfolk who lost their lives in the fire that consumed the old chapel five years before.
Cyrdak Drokkus, local showman, takes the stage next and easily lightens the mood again. He tells the story of the financing and construction of the new cathedral, with more than a few comical embellishments that poke at the four old founding families of Sandpoint. Cyrdak steps down, bowing to laughter and applause, to make room for Father Zantus, who thanks all the attendees, says a short blessing, and proclaims the commencement of the festival.
Sandpoint! Finally, Rick's destination is at hand. While he enters the town, he feels the festivity in the air throughout the whole place. Street food in preparation, spectacles, artists already announcing their shows and, of course, people everywhere.
He wanders around town for a bit, while his mind tries to decide about how to proceed. Will he just arrive and introduce himself? Try to catch some gossip? Maybe get a job at the tavern...
When he arrives at the whereabouts of the glassworks and finds them closed, he realises it is not a good day to talk of such important and serious matters. Better enjoy the day and leave it for tomorrow. After all, he doesn't know how are they going to take this.
Rick waits eagerly for lunch time. In his travels, he's tried food from many different places, but he expects some more exotic things to be avaliable here today. He memorises where the different taverns are, and plans a route to try them all.
Estria stretched a bit as she walked around the edge of the festival area, near the southwest side. She'd spent the last few weeks in town with Brodert Quink, studying some of the local Thassilonian ruins in the area. He was easily the most knowledgeable person in the area on the subject, and quite honestly, she'd enjoyed getting to hole up and pore over some old books. Still, it wasn't good to be cooped up inside all day, and she'd decided to come out and enjoy the local festival. As was her usual routine, she'd spent some time in the morning putting together a few alchemical concoctions just in case - they'd come in handy more than once on the way north. Two bottles hanging from her belt contained bottled lightning (which had baffled a local arcanist in that they weren't magical), while another pouch contained a basic panacea and a salve in case anyone got hurt. On her back - ready to be used if necessary - were her alchemy tools for creating more of the things she used. The effect was slightly comical, given how bulky they seemed for her thin form, but she knew exactly how to pack things in a way that let her carry them more effectively.
As for why she carried everything with her? Well, you never knew when you'd need things, and her one magical trick could only do so much. Besides, it was a light burden for her. For the moment, she was simply looking around the festival to see what was available... and what she might be able to learn.
"Steeeeeeeeeep right up, miss! And you, sir, yes-SAH! Step right up and try your hand at a game of Squash the Goblin! Those goblins are quick, but you'll have to be quicker if you want to win a fabulous prize!"
This charismatic showman stands beside some kind of game which clearly must function through simple magics of some kind. There are a number of pegs, painted to look something like goblins, which pop up out of holes and back in. The object of the game is to whack the pegs when they are up.
Kpu'unde listened to the speeches, and made no comment. While he knew that something of historic note was going to happen, what that thing might be was currently eluding him.
In many ways, the massive man stood out of place, at least a foot taller than most people around him, with a build that suggested more lean muscle than brawn.
While he did not seem to be paying attention, even he caught himself smirking at one thing the major said or another.
"Oh? And how quick does one need to be, I wonder?" Estria inquired, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement at the kind of entertainments some people came up with. Still... goblins were goblins, no? With that, she picked up a mallet and began to whack things, focusing on speed over all else. As an alchemist, she knew a thing or two about being hasty when necessary...
Brommyl wanders into town near the end of Cydrak's speech. Evidently they'd known he was coming and were throwing a festival in his honor. ... Wait, no. That would be ridiculous. The ceremonial ribbon across the cathedral's doors came into view a moment later. A commencement ceremony, then. That sounded fun. Trying not to draw too much attention to himself the tattooed dwarf set about exploring what this place had to offer. There was a host of delicious smells coming from direction of the building with the dragon weather-vane. Perhaps he'd sit down and get something to eat.
Legonor has been in Sandpoint for the last week. Originally he had just stopped into town to trade in some furs he had gathered while hunting in the area. Leganor was a hunter who traveled along the Varisian Gulf, sometimes acting as a guide to people seeking to go somewhere along his path. Over the last decade though Legonor had spent most of his time down in southern Varisia. He had found he cared little for the larger cities like Riddleport or Magnimar, so he prefered close knit communities like the one in Sandpoint. What had really kept him in the area though were rumors of a creature referred to as the Sandpoint Devil. As a hunter Legonor decided to seek out the truth about the creature. Was it merely a myth, or was it perhaps as serious a threat as the stories claimed? His presence in the area was due to the fact that he intended to find out.
Lately he’d discovered little about the Sandpoint Devil but upon returning to Sandpoint a week ago to sell his furs he overheard people talking about preparing for the Swallowtail Festival. While comfortable traveling alone and keeping to himself at times Legonor found he did occasionally miss the companionship of others. So he decided that he would stay around and enjoy the what the Festival had to offer. Over the course of the week he would offer to help in whatever little ways he could with the set up. He was able to secure a free room at an inn by offering to help out as they prepared for the festival.
Once the Festival got started Legonor allowed himself to relax and enjoy it along with everyone else. It would be good to rest a little and simply enjoy himself. He loved nature and being out and a part of it. But traveling the wilds and hunting for him was a part of survival as much as anything else, it was his purpose and one he was proud of. It was rare he got a chance to enjoy himself without the weight of perceived responsibility and necessity.
As he wandered the Festival he likely receive a few looks from people in town. Many had seen him over the past week and some of the people knew him from previous visits over the last decade but it was still always a little strange to see a full elf in the are. Much less one carrying an armory’s worth of weapons. He walked carrying an elegant spear of elven design, a thin rapier on his waist and a well used longbow on his back. So when he came upon a man proclaiming an archery contest he grinned and drew his bow off his back, “I would love to take part in the archery contest if you still have spots open.”
Estria at the Squash the Goblins game
"Bwah ha ha ha HA!" the man laughs as Estria whacks one "goblin" after another in quick sucession, not missing one. "You left no survivors! Well done!" The man picks up a bag of jerky and hands it to you. "From Chod Bevuk over at Sandpoint Meat Market, this is good stuff!" He notices a couple children watching from nearby, and raises his voice a little to be sure they hear. "And right true goblin meat that is, yessir!" The children gasp and scurry off. The man grins and says to you quietly with a wink, "Nah, it's just venison jerky, not to worry. Daverin Hosk, by the way, of Goblin Squash Stables. You're fairly new in town, aren't ya? Saw you with ol' Quink, I think I did, but haven't had the pleasure of meetin' ya."
Legonor at the Devil Hunt
This event takes place at an archery range set up on the beach by the lighthouse. Two large targets with silhouettes of a monstrous winged horse are set up fifty yards away from a firing line. The bull’s-eye on each target is where the horse’s heart would be, and there are four concentric circles surrounding the bull’s-eye.
"Welcome, welcome! calls out an older, balding Varisian man with black hair, a thick black mustache, and a sizeable paunch. "You're new in town, aren't ya? The name's Jodar Provolost. Do you have what it takes to bring down the Sandpoint Devil? Take your 2 shots, and let's see!"
"Estria, of Taldor." she said, smiling and holding out her hand. While she wasn't a true noble, her parents had taught her to at least act like she was more than a commoner, and years of that had definitely rubbed off. That said, it had never gone as far as being snobby to people who worked for a living - she was closer to them than any of her family or neighbors wanted to admit. Be kind to others and they would be kind to you - that was how she tried to live. "I came to study some of the ruins in the area, and I must say, they're quite something. Does Mr. Bevuk produce much surplus of jerky?" she asked, taking a small nibble to see how it tasted.
Entering the Rusty Dragon, Brommyl was pleasantly surprised by its cleanliness and decor. Often, small-town businesses tended to be a little run-down, but it was really nice in here. And the food smelled delicious. He waited for the Tien woman who seemed to be in charge to look his way. "Excuse me, miss. Do you have a special today?"
The cutouts had been a large part of what attracted Legonor towards the beach and the archery competition in the first place. The winged horse-like creature was very closely in line with the mysterious monster called the Sandpoint Devil. Given Legonor’s whole reason for being in the area was ostensibly to hunt down that beast, he was hardly going to pass up an opportunity for some target practice at the expense of some mock ups of it. Legonor smiled and nodded at the man before greeting him briefly in Elvish then again in Common, “Tervehdys ystävä. Greetings friend. I am Legonor, I have guided people to Sandpoint in the past but mainly stick to the wilds around town. The festival drew me in, everyone has put a great deal of effort into the event.”
As he said this he stuck his spear in the ground beside him and quickly strung his bow. He hadn’t practiced with it today, yet another reason this seemed a fine opportunity for him. He sighted down at the targets and let loose one arrow after another. Unfortunately it seemed that his lack of warm up this morning was showing, perhaps he needed to test the tension of the bowstring he was using because those shots seemed underwhelming.
Kpu'Unde spent time just walking around the town, taking in the sights and walking a perimeter of the area to see if he can pinpoint the exact danger. So far, however, he was not having much luck.
"Oh, yeah, Chod usually has plenty of jerky in stock over at his store." Daverin takes Estria's hand and shakes it vigorously. "Well, pleased to meet ya! And I'm sure the town will be glad to have you around if we ever see a goblin raid," he says with a wink. "The moldy runts would have to be crazy to attack here, but crazy they've got plenty of."
"Oh, that's a shame," Jodar says as one arrow and then the other whistles past over the Sandpoint Devil's shoulder. "Well, you can try again for another two copper, if you like," he says. "It's certainly worth another try for one of Alma's pies!"
"But you've done some work in the area, have you? Well, it's a pleasure to have a ranger in town from the hinterlands for a visit, to be sure. I'm glad to meet you, Legonor."
With the Glassworks closed and not wanting to adress the matter on a day like this, Rick asks anyone in the streets about the Kaijitsu manor, just to know the location. Once done, he walks into any tavern and asks for something to eat.
Rick enters the Rusty Dragon and finds a crowd eager to have some of the barrels of beer and tasty food the tavern has to offer. He tries to approach the bar and ask for something when he suddenly discovers a face with familiar features. A Minkaian! Can it be a Kaijitsu? But... she's working at the tavern!
She seems to be speaking with a dwarf. Rick turns his head to the first customer he can find and asks "Excuse me, sir/madam. Do you know that woman over there? Does she work here?"
You enter the tavern to find a very healthy bustle inside. All the tables are nearly full, and the two people serving (an elderly halfling woman and a young Tien woman) are rushing about with steaming plates of food which give off a delightfully spicy aroma.
"Excuse me, miss. Do you have a special today?"
"That we do, good dwarf! In fact, it's the only thing on the menu today, seeing as it's free for the festival. Beggars can't be choosers, and all that," she finishes with a wink. "I'll have it out for you in just a moment!"
"Excuse me, madam. Do you know that woman over there? Does she work here?"
"Work here? 'Spose you could say that," replies a middle aged woman with graying hair. "That's Ameiko Kaijitsu, and she owns the place!"
"Oh, I see... thank you, Madam."
So, the events have taken their own course. He wasn't expecting this, but now that he's here, he can't just fake his origin. For now, though, he'll keep his real motivation hidden - Ameiko seems busy with the customers and such a shock wouldn't do her any good. That's is, certainly, not the first impression he wants to offer.
He approaches and salutes Northern style, bowing. "Konnichiwa. It's nice to see a familiar face so far away from home. May I have something to eat, please?" He uses the local language out of respect for the rest of the people.
"Well, if they bother people, I have a few surprises." Estria said with a grin. She was used to protecting herself when it was necessary - between confusion poisons (which, admittedly, might not affect goblins too much) and her lightning-in-a-bottle, she could ward off most common foes. The bottles were reusable, too, which helped a lot. She waved goodbye, continuing to munch on the jerky as she walked through the festival and looked for signs of intellectual stimulation. Educational stalls were rare, but if she was lucky...
Brommyl gave an appreciative smile. "Such a pleasant surprise! Thank you very much." To be honest, he'd half-expected prices to be higher during the festival. Sometimes he could be a bit too cynical.
Dusk seemed to have missed the speeches, but she had been to the Swallowtail Festival once before, and being exposed to lengthy verbiages by the good burghers of the town extolling the virtues of this esteemed personage or the wonders of that new religious edifice could...pale. So, she wafted about, much as she did most of the time. Little had changed since she was here as a young girl, visiting her now dead uncle and aunt - they were itinerants, and only passing through themselves, but still, she felt a certain...fondness for the place.
And what interesting folk seemed to wander also about. An elf, some sort of trader perhaps? A tattooed dwarf with a long handled warhammer. A Tian, with a shy smile and clearly in need of few objects. A veritable giant, dark of hue and mighty of thew. And the young woman with the fine deportment who seemed to be interested in everything. Dusk could see clearly at times, when the mists of change did not pass across her countenance.
She enters the Inn, and smelled the spices as the food was brought out. It seemed some of those she had seen earlier are here already.
Unable to determine what has drawn him here, Kpu'Unde makes his way to the center of town and begins looking for a bar where adventurers gather. If the legends were correct, that was the best way to discover the threads of fate.
How does a dragon rust? Kpu'Unde thought to himself as he entered the tavern, the top of his head just shy of the door frame.
...and looked for signs of intellectual stimulation. Educational stalls were rare, but if she was lucky...
Legonor smiled and shook his head towards the old man, “Thank you but my pride can only take so many blows I’m afraid. I suppose I’m not much of a performance shooter. Thank you for the opportunity though and it is a pleasure to meet you Jodar. I think I will explore some more of the celebration.”
With that he put his bow on his back and retrieved his spear before setting off to look around the town a little more. Sandpoint was an interesting town. For being so small and relatively remote it had more diversity than one might expect. Legonor had heard that there was an inn run by a Tien woman in the city. He’d never been there himself, generally camping out along the edges of the town most nights. But he was curious to go and see it now. He’d spent most of his days traveling over Varisia and had never really gotten to know anyone of Tien descent. He asked around and was eventually directed to a tavern by the name of the Rusty Dragon. The smells inside were quite appealing and he felt his stomach rumble in expectation. Legonor waits patiently until someone can be flagged down and orders, “I'll have some of whatever it is that smells so interesting and since it's a celebration I suppose I’ll have something to drink. An elven red wine if you have it, if not mead would be fine.”
“An elven red wine if you have it, if not mead would be fine.”
"My special mead comes free with the meal for the festival today--if you're not keen on it I can go down below and open up some wine, although I'll have to ask you for the customary charge on that."
It isn't long before all of you at the Rusty Dragon are tucking into hurried-looking but delicious-tasting curry-spiced salmon and washing it down with early winterdrop mead--a refreshing take which adds flavors of mint and ginger to the honey of a normal mead.
Kpu'Unde enjoys the food, eating it with great relish. The tall Mwangi man has several plates of it.
After his failed attempt to communicate with Ameiko, understandable on the other hand due to the sheer bulk of work, Rick ends up tasting a delicious salmon. While enjoying it, he locates a dwarf that stands out of the crowd, his body covered in glowing tattoos.
Thinking that a little more practice of Varisian wouldn't do any harm, and fascinated by the awesome work of art, he approaches the singular individual.
"Hello. My name is Rick, and I'm a tattooer." He bows and shows a bit of his own tattooed arms. "I saw your work of art and couldn't resist asking you about its origin, I hope you don't mind."
"Huh." Estria said, peering into her drink. She hadn't been too sure what would be available during this celebration, but the drinks were alright. As a lady - or at least someone whose family wanted her to act like one, whatever the genealogies thought about it - she'd been taught how to handle at least a moderate amount of liquor. One simply did not go wild and make a fuss at nice parties after only one or two drinks. If it was a long evening and the drinks flowed freely, such was tolerated... but you needed to at least reach the line.
Amazed at the offer of free fare, Dusk sets to with gusto. She touches no wine, mead or other spirits however and keeps to herself, eyeing the other folk with veiled interest.
The salmon is delicious. A bit under-spiced, perhaps, but that's to be expected. Dwarves have a high tolerance for such things, after all. Brommyl's meal is unexpectedly interrupted by a Tien man with some tattoos of his own. "Brommyl Ironbeard of Clan Ironbeard at your service. My tattoos are Thassallonian in origin. I'm a bit of a historian, so ancient lore is of interest to me." Hopefully that would satisfy the man, as a more detailed explanation would likely make him sound insane. "That's a rather fearsome beast on your arm. Is it a linnorm?"
Eventually, everyone seems to have eaten his fill, and the conversational buzz points to the Rusty Dragon Inn and its proprietor, Ameiko Kajitsu, as the clear winner of this year's informal culinary contest. The festival goers are quickly back to their milling about the vendors, games, and performances, which continue until the sun begins to fall low in the sky.
The crowds seem to know it's time to return to the square in front of the cathedral, as they all move in that direction. Swept along with everyone else, you hear bits of chatter here and there about how people are excited to see the thousand luna moths which Father Zantus is expected to release as darkness falls before the great bonfire is lit. "A favored little creature of Desna, the luna moth is," a mother says to her son, who can't be more than 4 or 5 years old. "And favored are you, if one rests upon you!" The woman flutters her index finger around in the air. The little boy's eyes follow the "moth" closely, and he goes cross-eyed for a moment as it lands on his nose. He blinks, his eyes righting themselves, then giggles, and his mother joins in the happy laughter.
With a pleasantly full belly, Brommyl exits the Rusty Dragon Inn and begins to meander toward the cathedral. He'd never seen a luna moth before, so this promised to be quite the treat.
"Well, where I come from, Dragons are a revered and mystic creature, believed to represent the final achievement of self-perfection." Rick accompanies Brommyl outside to better witness the moths, which he has also never seen before.
Estria watched some of the events for the children with a smile on her face. The gods were many, the lesser powers more - and you never knew who might be involved. That, of course, had caused no end of headaches in the pedigrees and histories, especially when someone claimed to have been chosen. Most were nonsense, but it genuinely happened often enough that you had to take the claims seriously.
Dusk enjoys the festivities, or at least the events and the stalls if not the throngs. Large groups of...well, anything make her feel a little overwhelmed. She maintains her centre, and heads to the cathedral. A large group of luna moths heaving heavenward might just be something to see...
Perhaps this gathering? Kpu'Unde thought to himself.
The crowds arrive at the square before the Sandpoint Cathedral, and you see the great edifice's beauty anew in the light of the setting sun, which washes the western face in orange and red hues. Father Zantus is on the same podium that was used for the speeches at the start of the festival, and he looks ready to begin speaking, although the crowds are still chattering loudly...
The buzz of the crowds grows louder and louder in Kpu'Unde's ears. Just as he is starting to wonder at the increase in volume, his eyes close in a long blink, and when they open, he sees a scene rather different from the one he was in.
The first thing Kpu'Unde notices is that the sun is high in the sky--it is not quite noon. His location has not changed: to his left (north) is the same row of buildings along Church Street, although he notices carvings of birds on several of them which he does not remember seeing before. But straight ahead of him to the east, where the brand new Sandpoint Cathedral should be, he sees instead a much smaller building. This must be the old chapel which stood here before, he surmises.
Kpu'Unde has only just finished the thought when his attention is commanded by a loud, clear voice. He looks, and sees not far from the chapel a man standing alone. He is addressing the throngs of people who are passing through the square on their way to whatever errands they pursue. The man's skin is fair, his black hair worn long but very well kept, and his attire is resplendent--his metal breastplate and greaves shine like silver, and a longsword is sheathed on his hip. His cloak is of two colors: black and crimson. Emblazoned on the center of the man's breastplate is what Kpu'Unde recognizes as the Archstar, which is the symbol of Asmodeus.
"Forget these lesser deities!" the man proclaims as he gestures toward the chapel. "Asmodeus was the first, and he alone is deserving--" here the man's preaching falters. Kpu'Unde sees that the preacher's eyes seem transfixed. He follows the man's gaze and sees a woman walking on the opposite side of the square. She wears brown pants and a green tunic, and the long curly hair which falls down her back is a blazing orange-red. She walks with a light step, continuing on her way, but she has noticed the man, as well. Her gaze is locked with his, and there is a playful look in her eyes. "--deserving of your adoration," the man finally finishes his sentence, although his voice has lost its commanding tone. The red-haired woman gives a light laugh, and turns away as she leaves the square.
There is a sound like a crack of thunder, and Kpu'Unde finds himself back in the present. All the people of Sandpoint fall quiet, and Father Zantus begins to speak. "As you all know, it is our tradition to release a group of swallowtail butterflies every year during the Swallowtail Festival. Well, this year we have a rare treat to be able to release, not swallowtail butterflies, but luna moths. These moths glow like the stars in Desna's domain!" he says, sweeping his arm upward toward the starry expanse. "At last, the sun is nearly set, so we may truly enjoy this gift of Desna." And it is beginning to get rather dark--it should make for a beautiful display. You notice that Sheriff Hemlock and a few other of the town guards are lighting torches around the perimeter of the square--it wouldn't do to be in total darkness, it really wouldn't be very safe for a public event like this.