The Swallowtail Festival begins promptly, as scheduled, on the first day of autumn. The square before the church quickly becomes crowded as locals and travelers arrive, and several merchant tents featuring food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs are there to meet them.
The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers each deliver short but well-received welcomes to the festival. Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to town and jokes about how even Larz Rovanky, the local tanner (and notorious workaholic) managed to tear himself away from the tannery to attend, much to everyone’s but Larz’s amusement. Sheriff Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church five years ago. Fortunately, Cyrdak Drokkus is more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes as he delivers a not-completely-irreverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral. He throws in a bit of self-promotion at the end, as is his wont, inviting everyone to stop by the Sandpoint Theater the following evening to check out his new production of “The Harpy’s Curse,” revealing that the lead role of Avisera the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda! Finally, Father Zantus steps up give a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
As the cheering in response to Father Zantus's declaration dies down, the general volume of talking goes up as the assorted vendors begin hawking their wares and the crowd clumps into smaller groups of conversations. You find your attentions being drawn in different directions as you listen to the various conversations going on around you while the vendors are calling out loudly as you notice that a few of the available young women are clearly looking around for men to honor with their attention, all the while avoiding the small children that are running around underneath everyone feet.
It is into this chaos of a festival that you find yourself. Wander where you will.
Settling himself to a seat shaded by an old oak near the pastry table, Manx pushes his cloak back off his head. He winks at the lass behind the counter as he pulls his wide-brimmed hat off his head and settles it on the ground before him.
Waving his arms in the air with exaggerated motion, Manx uses his prestidigitation to shoot multi-colored bubbles from his sleeves, as the children reach up to pop the bubbles, they transform into simple flowers.
Enjoying the attention of the children, their mothers, and any that stop by, Manx continues to entertain the crowds, accepting any donations dropped into his hat. Occasionally he will comment on how thirsty he is, while creating an illusory mug that crumbles into flower petals when he tries to drink from it.
With a raven perched upon his shoulder Pik weaves his way through the crowd as he eats a pastry bought at a stall. He stops for a moment to admire the entertainer's performance, and then moves on to the other sights of the festival.
Radoslav will spend his time looking through baubles and traveling equipment. He seems rather dour compared to much of the celebration, though does engage anyone selling livestock in a line of questioning about their animals. He has clearly paid for a haircut and shave quite recently and walks with straight posture and his head held high, morningstar swinging at his hip.
Elransil watches as his parents and his sister, Elizabeth, work to sell various items from Magnimar and other regions to visitors at the festival. Delicate glassworks, handsome clothes, rare spices, preserved foods, wines, barrels of beer and other items are attracting a fair sided crowd.
Then he leaves for his job - scoping out the competition. He starts to slowly walk through the festival, making note of what the other merchants are selling, how they are doing and their prices. He also buys some food for the rest of his family, carrying it in a wicker basket.
This place is really booming, Elransil thinks. There's lots of money to be made; we just need to make sure everyone comes by our spot.
Then the half-elf sees a young Varisian conjuring magical shapes from thin air to the delight of little children. He also sees those children's parents watching and an idea forms in his head.
Once there is a quiet moment, he'll speak to the spellcaster.
"Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing your mug there," Elransil says to Manx Serimus. "I'll give you a gold and buy you some ale if you set up shop near my parents' tent. We can all attract more business by being near each other, and we won't be in competition."
I might not have my sister's gift for business, but I recognize an opportunity when I see one.
"Excuse me, but I couldn't help noticing your mug there," Elransil says to Manx Serimus. "I'll give you a gold and buy you some ale if you set up shop near my parents' tent. We can all attract more business by being near each other, and we won't be in competition."
Hearing the offer and seeing but a few coins from the children in his hat, Manx looks down at his empty mug, theatrically tries to drink the last few non-existent drops, shakes the mug in irritation, and throws it up into the are, where it bursts into sparkling swallowtail shaped confetti, falling onto the heads of the children watching. "I hope you have enjoyed my show, but this wizard finds himself sadly out of choice beverage, and must replenish his reserves before continuing. A happy festival to all!" Manx' hat rises slowly from the ground and makes a slow sweep in the air as he turns to the young merchant.
"A splendid idea! The name is Manx, Manx Serimus, of Korvosa. Though anyone that buys me a drink may call me Manx." He motions for the half-elf to lead the way, "Lead on good sir, though I seem to have lost my mug..."
As Manx walks away small swallowtails occasionally fly out of his garments only to burst into sparkling lights, confetti, or snow.
Radoslav continues to wander the area and nods to Elransil when he sees him.
Good day elf. Didn't expect to see you here and not out on the hunt.
He doesn't seem to notice the wizard, looking at Elransil and clasping his hands behind his back.
"Well, hello then, Manx. I'm Elransil Farseer, a wanderer of the wilds and member of a fine merchant family. I've heard many interesting stories about Korvosa. Is it true that rangers are held in high esteem there? It seems odd such a large city would put so much stock in woodsmen."
The half-elf sounds a bit wistful as he asks about far-away places but it lasts only for a moment and then he's back in the here and now.
"As for myself, I was born on the road between here and Magnimar and have mostly traveled the region with my family, selling wares mostly."
By now, he sees Radoslav and returns the friendly nod with a smile.
"My father is an elf. I'm a half-elf ... unless a pretty girl comes asking. And I am on the hunt, just for a different prey."
He leans in like a conspirator and says in a stage-whisper both men can hear: "I'm hunting money. I hope this spellcaster can make himself a profit and increase my parents' share at the same time."
His little joke done, he introduces the two men.
"This is Manx Serimus of Korvosa. Manx, this is Radoslav Ochenko."
Radoslav nods, though doesn't shift his position.
This spellcaster does something useful then no?
He asks, waving his hand in the air.
I am capable of making much myself. It is always nice to speak with others of productivity. What manner of spellcaster are you?
He turns to back to Elransil for a moment.
And half elf is still elf. Though I consider it no insult.
Distracted from the gruff manner of Radoslav, Manx turns from entertaining the children trailing him.
"Not sure that I've heard of a spellcaster that was not of use. At the very least that use may be just staying out of public."
Manx gives Radoslav a studied look, noting the compartment-ed component pouch."It would appear we have something in common. I attended Theumanexus College in Korvosa, but I think that you came a bit further."
Manx shoo's a couple of children away, with a bouncing light that darts off into the crowd."Elransil here has promised me some refreshment, join us, and we may speak of what makes a spellcaster useless."
At noon, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheel a large covered wagon into the square, and after recounting the short parable of how Desna first fell to earth and was nursed back to health by a blind child who she transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid, they pull aside the wagon’s cover, releasing the thousand children of Desna—a furious storm of a thousand swallowtail butterflies that swarm into the air in a spiraling riot of color to a great cheer from the crowd. Throughout the rest of the day, children futilely chase butterflies, never quite quick enough to catch them.
Lunch is provided free, at the expense of Sandpoint’s taverns. Each brings its best dishes—this event is a marketing push by the taverns as much to win new customers as it is to feed a hungry crowd. It soon becomes apparent that the darling of the lunch is, once again, Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead easily overshadow the other offerings, such as the Hagfish’s lobster chowder or the White Deer’s peppercorn venison.
Elransil shares the food he bought with his family and the caravan guards, letting them enjoy a light brunch before the dedication ceremony. Once the feast is under way, he makes sure to snag seats for Radoslav and Manx near a large man with very imposing armor.
"Hi, my name's Elransil Farseeker. Some friends and I are about to taste all these wonderful foods. Would you like to join us?"
I come from Ustalav. Though, while you play with children, I research the bodies of men and beasts. Knowledge makes you stronger, makes you able to survive. He smiles and flexes his right arm as if to demonstrate.
When the food is served, Radoslav paces in a loose circle around the eating area. He nods to Erodel, but doesn't bother to introduce himself or sit down, simply seeming to watch what the people choose to eat.
Manx licks the sugar from his fingers, reaches as if to wipe them on his pants, and instead flicks confetti from his fingers as he cleans them before extending his hand, "Manx Serimus, wizard extraordinaire, entertainer, scribe, and general lay-about. A pleasure to make your acquaintance Erodel!"
"Ustalav, my good man from who knows where, to understand children of a society is to understand the society. Sit, have something to eat or drink, your pacing is bad for my digestion." Manx waves a barmaid over to replenish drinks.
Nodding to Elransil "Does your family come here every year, or is this something new?"
Pik dines on whatever is put before him and enjoys it all. When finished he notices a strange man pacing and not eating. His head tilts in the same manner as his raven's as he watches the stranger, and then he stands and approaches.
You're very odd., he says, and then stands examining the man as if awaiting a response.
Elransil takes Erodel's hand and gives it a firm shake.
"The other two are Radoslav and Manx. Please feel free to join in with us," the half-elf says as he points to the men, respectively.
He eagerly reaches for some of Ameiko Kaijitsu's fish. Venison is common enough in the woods, but fresh seafood is a real treat.
Elransil eats a good third of his curry-spiced salmon before he realizes that Manx was addressing him.
"My family comes through here fairly often. We travel between here and Magnimar and then smaller towns, buying and selling wares. My mom used to work here in Sandpoint. That's how she and my father met. Now we always make a point of visiting the Rusty Dragon Inn when we come here."
Radoslav looks over at Pik and narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze up and down the man.
I am observant. Is that a problem?
Gervar wandered about the festival taking it all in. Being unused to such events, he was sure that he resembled somewhat a newborn deer looking about for it's place in the world. Strangely, that's a bit of how he felt. He had been away from his clan too long it felt, but at the moment he knew that being away was a necessary event if he were to ever regain what the shaman had taken from him. He'd arrived in Sandpoint only a day ago, and heard all the talk about the festival. It intrigued him so he decided to attend.
Although he'd left his shield in his room at the Rusty Dragon, he still wore his leather armor with the metal studs that he'd acquired not long ago. He himself, with all of his working with skins and leathers had never fashioned such a thing, but the dwarves living near his people had claimed the studs helped deflect blades, so they were a welcome addition to the armor. Even the axe he carried he'd pick up from the dwarves as well because he'd seen several of them using it and had been impressed. He'd learned their style of fighting with it and so far, he'd not found any other axe or blade to compare to how it felt.
After dodging several children all day who apparently found him different enough to be interesting, Gervar managed to acquire a seat at the feast near a half elf who was engaged in conversation with a couple of humans. He wasn't sure about them as they appeared to be some kind of magicians, but he'd learned that appearances could be deceiving. He raised an eyebrow as another with a raven engaged one of the spellcasters with a pointed remark. He smiled at the pale man's response and continued to observe.
Radoslav looks over at Pik and narrows his eyes, shifting his gaze up and down the man.
I am observant. Is that a problem?
Pik chuckles and a sly smile plays across his features, Did I say it was?
Pik chuckles and a sly smile plays across his features, Did I say it was?
Usually those that call attention to the strangeness of others take some issue with it. If that is not the case then I am glad. You have a strange pet, it is raven is it not? I assume its appetite for carrion helps dispose of any decayed meat during long travels.
Usually those that call attention to the strangeness of others take some issue with it. If that is not the case then I am glad. You have a strange pet, it is raven is it not? I assume its appetite for carrion helps dispose of any decayed meat during long travels.
That's an interesting assumption, giving no indication as to which comment he's referring to. He tilts his head slightly, and so does the raven. Does Roak appear to be my pet?
As further indicated by the fact that you have named it, that would seem to be the case. Unless you have a habit of naming and associating with beasts you come across for mere moments.
Pik chuckles, Roak does have a name, it is true.
As further indicated by the fact that you have named it, that would seem to be the case. Unless you have a habit of naming and associating with beasts you come across for mere moments.
Finishing off another plate of salmon, Manx has watched this by-play between Pik and Radoslav. Grinning at the dichotomy Manx looks at Elransil, "doesn't matter where or how, but get any two practitioners of the arcane arts together and it will be only moments before a lively discussion on the superiority and merits of each is presented."
Manx picks up a turkey drumstick nearly as long as his forearm, waves it between the two, "even though both should know that only wizards are the truest of arcanists."
Having bitten off a chunk of turkey leg, chased by a long, slow drink of warmed winterdrop mead "Rad, I can call you Rad? Sit, enjoy some of this fine refreshment. A name is but a label by which one may identify a thing, is it not? This winterdrop mead is quite exquisite when warmed, a very pleasurable and minty heat."
Giving Pik the same once over he has given the others, "I have a feeling you would have some input on the methodology of this age old discourse of brains over brawn. Have a glass of this mead, it is truly a heavenly delight."
It has been a long time since Manx has been able to really relax and enjoy himself, after being engrossed in his studies on the practical application of summoned creatures in community improvement. Today's festivities are just what he needed.
Giving Pik the same once over he has given the others, "I have a feeling you would have some input on the methodology of this age old discourse of brains over brawn. Have a glass of this mead, it is truly a heavenly delight."
Pik looks at Manx quizzically, Would I? Whatever would give you that impression?
Radoslav blinks a few times.
You can call me Radoslav. I do not believe either of us used the term arcanist. I do not even know this man's name, let alone if he cares anything for the arcane. I myself am more of a researcher and craftsmen than an arcanist.
He listens as Pik answers and nods in agreement.
You both make strange comments. I do not know if you are trying to start a fight wizard or if the alcohol has made you lose focus. It is...odd.
Sighing, Manx let's go of his mug, allowing it to float gently a couple of inches above the table. Settles back against the table and slides his hat back on his head.
Gesturing first at Pik, "the only people I know that keep a raven around dabble in the arcane arts to some extent."
Manx then points at the multi-pocketed pouches worn by Pik, Radoslav, himself, "while they differ somewhat in style, the function is rather obvious. Just making an observation..." Manx pointedly does not look at Radoslav with this last comment.
Taking another bite of his turkey leg, Manx remains at ease "today is a day for rejoicing and merry making, not arguments. I like to think that no matter how misplaced someone else's belief is, I may learn something from it." Manx grins at both, expecting them to see the jest of his comment, and waves again to the food and drink spread across the table. Sit, be welcome at this table and let us share our experiences.
Pik chuckles and shakes his head slightly, If I've given the impression that I'm attempting to hide what I am, I apologize. All of your observations are interesting, but they don't answer the question asked.
Radoslav nods.
I do keep components, yes. Though I am not capable of...casting any spells. These items are quite useful in...making things though, no? And do not worry, I do not look down upon those without physical strength. I imagine that our lives have simply been different. I would have studied had I been able, but research called me to danger and danger taught me to fight.
He chuckles.
And perhaps, my wizard friend, you misunderstand. If today is to be for making merry, I am quite pleased that it should contain arguments.
|
With another nod towards the half-elf, Erodel seats himself and begins his conquest of the luncheon. Taking some salmon as his first victim, he proceeds to lift his visor to allow the consumption of his entree before starting on the mead.
As the conversation starts to intensify around him, Erodel visibly stiffens at the words 'wizard' and 'fight' being used in the same sentence. Gathering his things, he stands, lowers his visor and makes his way around the table towards where the chefs are receiving their compliments/awards. On his way around will lean in towards Elransil "If your caravan is needing guards, let me know. I'll be in town for a while."
Seeing the large bald man has not taken in any of the offerings, will point out the salmon to Gervar: "Try the fish, it's good."
Wading once more into the throng of humanity Erodel hopes to reach Ameiko to personally thank her for the meal. "Your food was delicious, would you happen to have open rooms for festival?"
Edit:
Radoslav motions towards Erodel after the man has stepped away, crossing his arms over his chest as he speaks.
That is interesting. Perhaps that one does not have stomach for debates. Or perhaps he simply took offense to the topic of discussion.
Elransil enjoys some of the ales being offered, looking back and forth between the arcanists as they discuss their crafts.
These are some odd fellows, especially the one who acts like a bird.
"And some most entertaining arguments they are. Perhaps we should set up more tables for others to listen in and shout out encouragements."
Pik looks at those around him curiously, Were we arguing?
When the large armored man speaks to him, Elransil nods and tells him he'll pass along the job request to his parents.
Once the man walks off and Radoslav speaks, he'll say:
"Not everyone deals with conflict the same way. I mean, there's a man who has covered himself from head to toe in armor for a festival. The worst that can happen is that someone falls too far into their cups. He obviously doesn't want to be close to people. He probably never was."
Shaking his head, he takes another sip of beer.
Radoslav shrugs his shoulders, keeping his arms crossed.
I think there was no fighting, so probably not a strong argument. If this is conflict, you all have apparently lead lives much different from my own. Sandpoint must be a quiet town.
He chuckles.
And walking wall is strange for one that runs from little conflict. I wonder if there is little tiny gnome inside, walking around in armor to hide his tiny stature.
As the sun dips lower in the horizon, temple apprentices scurry through the crowds encouraging people to attend Father Zantus's over at the central podium for the recitation of the Prayer of the First Dreaming.
Your group joins the general tide of people shifting back towards the area in front of the Cathedral and as you watch, Father Zantus slowly walks up to the podium clutching a scroll containing the prayer he intends to recite in one hand and a thunderstone in the other. As he settle himself behind the podium and prepares to speak, he strikes the thunderstone to signal for everyone's attention and quiet.
Though instead of the quiet you expected, you begin hearing screams coming from the edges of the crowd and you see smoke begining to curl up from various points in the town. As you scan the crowds all around you, trying figure out where the commotion is coming from and just what is going on, you hear several people cry out, Goblins!.
The entire town seems to have turned into a scene of chaos as you soon see the goblins for yourselves. Some have torches and are setting fire to the vendor tents, others are racing through the crowds on their hideous looking mounts, still more are running about on foot as they wave their dogslicers about, cutting anyone and anything in front of them.
Townsfolk scramble about, searching for anything to use as weapons since most did not come armed to such a peaceful gathering. The same children that were once running about gleefully now are running in fear for their lives and as you watch a young girl runs right into your group as she is being rundown by a goblin mounted upon his dog.
will
init
Round 1
Pik looks at the raven on his shoulder and nods to the sky. Roak caws fly, fly and takes to the sky.
The shoanti narrows his eyes at the oncoming goblin and then quickly turns to look for anyone fallen nearby and moves towards them, if they aren't being swarmed by goblins.
Elransil will move into a position where he has a clear shot at the goblin mount, firing an arrow into its flank to make sure the creature doesn't take the goblin out of Erodel's reach. He won't fire if there's a chance he'll hit any of the townspeople.
The ranger quickly scans the surrounding area, looking for more threats, people in trouble or something that could help in the combat.
Seeing the large bald man has not taken in any of the offerings, will point out the salmon to Gervar: "Try the fish, it's good."
Gervar nodded and smiled. "Thanks, I've had some. I can't eat it much though. Something about it."
As he waited for a response, movement in the distance caught his eye at the same time the cry of an attack by goblins filled the air. He'd heard about the creatures from the dwarves, but hadn't actually encountered any. Supposedly nasty creatures, it looked to make for more of a serious day than a merry one.
As the girl came rushing and the armored man he was speaking with rose and protected the girl, Gervar rose as well, pulling up his axe in both hands and eyeing the goblin and it's dog as he did so.
Position self between girl and goblin; Ready to swing at the Dog as it approaches closely.
Round 1:
Radoslav will draw his morningstar and take a five foot step towards the mounted goblin. He'll ready an attack on the dog if the creature comes in range.
As the little girl runs up to them, Manx dazes the goblin and its mount chasing her. Erodel steps up and scoops the girl out of harms way. Radoslav steps up and swings at the mount, bringing his morning star down upon its head right before Elransil fires an arrow into the mount, finishing it off.
The dazed goblin now finds himself sprawled on the ground, half pinned under his mount as it collapes atop his leg.
As you scan across the plaza, you realize that it is swarming with goblins running around amongst the crowd, some on foot and some atop their mounts. Elransil notices the two goblins with torches by his families tent as it starts to smolder and hears his sister screaming from inside it.
"Liz, get out of there!" Elransil yells as he starts to run toward the tent, notching an arrow and taking aim at the closest goblin.
As he moves toward the tent, Elransil looks around for his parents and the caravan guards.