Phaendar’s Market Festival draws a crowd from all over Nirmathas, many solely to hear Aubrin the Green—the retired Chernasardo Ranger-turned-Caydenite cleric—recount bawdy tales of adventure from her youth. Having left the watchful eye of the Keepers to start your own journey you figured this would be a good place to make some contacts that don't know your parents and mentors, and figure out where to begin.
Reaching Phaendar a little after mid-day the festival already seems to be in full swing. You were able to see the commotion for some ways out, arriving through the Nesmian Plains and watching as the borders of the small town seemed to expand before your eyes, booths, trader wagons, and more being set up in preparation. Now the madness is before you, colors, banners, flags, pennants, and all manner of attention grabbers spread all around. The town seems to be out in full force, each individual selling handmade wares, crafted with expertise, or exploring the varied goods of the traders from out of town.
Reaching the center of town, the Market Green, you are able to examine all of the different areas. The famous bridge to the Northeast, built long ago to ford the Marideth River, the Phaendar Trading Company building almost directly south of you, where lively trade seems to be taking place, and even the Riverwood Shrine to the west, shining in the afternoon light despite its wooden exterior. It was suggested that you go find rooms for yourselves at the Taproot Inn, "The good ol' Root," as called by Brezik before doing much else, but ultimately it is your choice now that you are adventuring on your own.
Walking down the main road while having a stone floating around her head, Govrina's vestigal bat-like wings flutter excitedly.
"I'm so excited! I could SCREAM! Where should we go first? I want to get some candied pecans! I LOVE fresh and warm candied pecans! There's gotta be someone around here who does that right? Just like your mama used to make Vraxis! Grandma Dragon made the BEST candied pecans..."
It's obvious her enthusiasm for new sights and tastes will know no bounds as she flounces down the road, almost dancing.
"No, no, no. You come to Mal you get a fair deal. Nice map like this will be exactly what someone's after right now, and I'll find them. Can't let you walk away with just a new shirt and tinder box for your troubles..."
Mal sucks air through his teeth, making an obvious show of thinking.
"I can tell by the lines on your hands and the colour of your skin you're the outdoorsy type. A man like you doesn't need a map like this, a man like you needs a good bag and sturdy rope. I've got just what you need. So you get the rope, the bag, and the shirt - I'll take the map for someone that needs it, and and a favour from your good self at a time of my choosing. Fair?"
Draining the beer he hadn't bought, Mal lays out a used by sturdy rucksack and some very fine silken rope and holds out a hand to the man across the table.
Dominic walks a few strides back from Govrina, "Geez, wear a sign painted tourist," he mumbles to himself and those immediately nearby. He turns up his jacket collar to try to fade from view on the active street, instinctually passing his hand over the off covered section where he had ripped out the stitches of a militia patch, making sure it is still gone.
He had almost made it out of Kassen alone. He was just about to set out, for real this time, even though he had been saying it for weeks.. Get into some badass adventure, with card games and duels and who knows what. Oh well, the kids he grew up with weren't too bad. I mean, they did tattoo old Waitely's cow and throw that rager in the abandoned stable, and that night is legend now. It should be alright.
"Hey, who wants to get an ale?" he asks with a stupid grin. Being the youngest at 15, a few months to his 16th name day, it's a gamble to whether he'll be served.
"Eh? Who's nuts?" Vraxis hadn't really been paying that much attention. The sight of the town coming into view made him anxious, and everything else faded away. He swayed gently perched upon Fang as the wolf strode forward.
They were all here for their own reasons, but mostly to get away from Kassen. They were all grateful for everything that they had, but being the sons and daughters of local legends didn't always work out the way you thought it would. Their parents, while actual heroes, were still people. Flawed people, who were better heroes than parents, but parents still loved their children and children still loved their parents.
So here they were, half a world away, out on their own, with only each other and whatever they carried on their backs to see them through. What could go wrong?
"Brezik liked nuts. I'm sure this, ole root, has some. And likely some ale too." After all, Brezik didn't like anywhere that didn't have good food. Although there wasn't much that Brezik wouldn't eat.
"Oh well. Ale will have to do!"
A smile on her lips, Govrina drops the stone she was levitating, and focuses on the buildings getting closer.
"Which is the Root? Think they will just have a tree root hanging outside the door?"
She snickers, seeming to find this idea quite funny.
"Sounds good to me, that's where Mal ran up ahead to right?"
As they enter the building Dom stops right in the doorway like an amateur. As his eyes adjusted and others bumped into him, he stepped further into the establishment and walked up to Mal. "Did they end up having rooms?"
Snickering again as she runs into Dominic's backside, she slaps him lightly him on the rear and teases him with whispers just loud enough for the three of them to hear as they walk up to Mal.
"Now, I don't mind running into your backside here 'cousin,' but please...not in public!"
The two-story inn’s walls are made of hewn timbers stained a dark green, all capped with a pine shake roof. A wooden statue of a rearing grizzly bear guards the front door, maw open and claws ready to rend. Looking around you realize that this is the only building in town with two stories, and it certainly seems to be the most travelled in town.
The proprietor, currently behind the bar serving drinks and food, appears to be of mixed Shoanti and Varisian descent with twin black braids, black eyes, and an iconic teal scarf worn around her waist. "Welcome all," she says to the next rush of people in through the door. "Find yourselves a seat and I'll be gettin' to ya in a moment!" She bustles around with the help of a couple of other waitresses and reaches your seats sooner rather than later.
"Few questions before you start. 1) You need a room? You came to the right place, get 'em before they're all gone. 2) Anything you want to see in the festival, I've got all the hottest tips. 3) You need a recommendation of the locations to see, I've got that too. Now then, what can I get you luvs?" She seems playful and energetic, surprising considering the number of people moving in and out of the Root.
Govrina smiles broadly and jumps a little clapping her hands.
"NUTS!"
She then clamps her hand on her mouth then looks sheepish.
"I'm SO sorry. I was wondering if there was a vendor at the festival offering roasted nuts. Especially candied pecans. I LOVE those things...and some ale of course. Ale would work too..."
Turning her scales red didn't seem possible, but she manages it in her sculpted cheeks somehow. Her jaw clenches trying to keep her mouth shut.
"Well aren't you a bundle of fire! Don't worry luv, Jet's got ya." She leans in conspiratorially, "What're your names?" After receiving names she leans in a bit closer, "Well, trick of the trade, go down to the Phaendar Trading Company, talk to Kining Blondebeard, dwarf woman who owns the place, cantankerous too, and ask where Mahmud is today. When she lets you know, 'cause she always knows where that squirrely little guy is, moves his shop from place to place, head there immediately. I don't know where he gets it, but he brings the best nuts from around the Lake in to town. You won't be sorry when you try them."
She rights herself again, saying, "I'll go get those ales for you now." As she leaves she smacks an older man on the back of the head, currently trying to trade some rags to Mal for his boots. "Stop messing with the newbies Old Joe. Or I'll tell 'em where you hide your stash."
"And here they are. I thought you'd stood me up!"
"My boots are my livelihood sir, a man cannot trade his last. You can gladly trade a pair of torches for your offerings though. There is always a deal to be made."
"Cousins, its good to see you. I have made arrangements with Jet for our lodgings, arrangements but not remunerations of course."
The grin that flashes across his face is not new to any of those present.
"I've not explored the town though, thought we could tear it up together."
Nudging Govrina as she begins to blush he whispers conspiratorially
"Careful darling, your devil's showing through."
By the time Jet returns with your drinks Mal has acquired a shawl, a bow tie, a fake corsage, two slaps on the wrist, and a kiss on the cheek.
Standing on his chair and leaning forward with his arms on the table so he could see, Vraxis commented on the tankard of ale. "Oh that's lovely that is. Hmm. Ma would be so mad at me right now. I can almost hear her yellin' already. Sit down. Arms off the table. Wipe your feet. Humph."
He raised the big glass to his lips with both hands and started a long pull. When he finally came up for air, he had a big grin on his face. "Ma never made nothing like this before."
The lone wolf laid on the floor near the halfling's chair. His studded leather was marked all over with a simple word to let people know that he was tame...mostly. In quite a few places, one word was written repeatedly. "Vraxis's"
Before he even set his tankard down, he noticed the fancy doodads that Mal had acquired. "Oi, what's that little black one?" he asked.
Frowning at Mal, Govrina shoots him a rude gesture.
"Demon-blooded you jerk. You know better! Keep saying such things, and everyone will think I'm some sort of Chelaxian or Asmodian spy."
Jet stops by hearing Govrina's exclamation. "A sweet thing like you? I'd sooner think Old Joe is spy, and he ain't all there all the time."
Looking at Jet out of the corner of her eye as she leaves to hustle back to work, Govrina points her finger at her and raises her eyebrows and smiles.
"I like her."
Jet beams at Vraxis' compliment. "Thank you darlin'. Best stuff in town, right here at the Root. There are more reasons than being the only game in town that everyone comes in nearly every day after work to drink."
"little black... Oh you mean this one. It's yours."
Mal bends down and wraps the clip on bow tie around Vraxis' neck.
"Suits you. Not your colour though."
With a wave of his hand the tie ripples like oil on water before settling the colour of Vraxis' eyes.
"And this for you darling."
His hands make short work of attaching the coursage to Govrina's collar.
Smiling at first, Govrina quickly frowns.
"You know I can't pay you for it Mal. Besides, we're not going out again after what happened the last time..."
She then rolls her eyes and makes a vague gesture with her hand as she finishes her ale.
"Now let's go check out the festival! I'm not ready to sleep yet and things are just getting started! Besides I want to find this Mamoud fella. He might have exactly what I'm looking for!"
She then looks quickly back to Mal and points at him.
"Don't say it! My grandmother may have been a demonic succubus, but that does not mean I like such insinuations!"
If he hadn't been holding a tankard half full of ale, he might have done a better job defending himself from Mal's incursion. As it was, he could only bob and weave to try to escape the formal ware assault. Once Mal's hands pulled away, Vraxis's head swiveled back and forth as his neck crane to try and see what the man had done. Frustrated, he set the giant mug down and began trying to remove the neck-ware.
"Wha? Not for me fool. For the bloody wolf. I swears..." The empty threat trailed off as Vraxis simply shook his head and raised his drink.
"Somes got no sense, I swears."
Head cocked to the side, Fang simply looked up quizzically.
"Whelp. You ready to go see the sites pup? Alright, alright, let's go."
The festival atmosphere has only grown larger since you've entered the Root. People are moving from place to place jovially, a band has set up in the Market Green and started playing tunes, children are running back and forth playing 'Rangers and Invaders'.
The heart of Phaendar is the trading post, where farmers, hunters, and artisans come to trade, and where travelers stop in to resupply. The store primarily sells seed, timber, farm supplies, and contracts for raw materials, but all sorts of odds and ends wind up in the small shop. Remembering tales told to you, the stone wall of the smithy is one of the oldest structures in Phaendar, being part of a small fortress built to guard the road when the Chelish army first erected the bridge. The fort collapsed long ago and its stones and supports were looted to construct other buildings, but the town smithy still uses the original fortress forge.
The Trading Company is a mad house when you arrive. Merchants, traders, farmers, people from all walks of life are arguing, haggling, working their trade throughout the main building, and a bit outside in the livestock pen. Watching it all is a slightly smirking dwarf woman. Countless burn scars mar her pale skin, and she keeps her iron-gray hair cut in a short wedge.
"Hey Kining!" one sour faced man yells from across the room. The dwarf woman looks at him, one eyebrow raised. "You forgot the handles on these hoes!"
She gives him a dour face, "I did not. You requisitioned a dozen hoe heads to be forged and you got them. Getting the lumber for the handles is on you." The man curses but realizes she did live up to the letter of their agreement and heads out, hoe heads in tow.
Govrina snickers at the man's realization and lack of thinking for such an important purchase. Shen then literally flounces in excitement up to the scarred dwarf woman, her small wings and decently endowed bosom bouncing as she smiled broadly.
"Lady Blondebeard? Greetings! We were told you could tell us how to find a man named Mamoud? I have some potential new business for him!"
Kining sticks out her hand saying only, "Finders fee."
She sighs before leaning down on her elbows. "Mamoud and I have a deal because he has trouble promoting himself. He lets me know where he's setting up for the day, some strange druid thing, and I point people in the right direction. For a finder's fee. That way we all win."
She slaps her hand down on the counter with some force, "Now stop yer bouncin', you're distracting the traders trying to do business here!" She turns another direction. "Yeah, I saw you Raoul! Get your greasy butt back to selling that corn!"
Govrina quickly pays the fee. After getting the information, she then winks at Kining, blows her a kiss, and proceeds to flounce away even more purposefully.
"Sorry...bouncing comes naturally to me!"
Dominic enjoys the light buzz from the weak ale. A smile creeps onto his face and he is a bit less crabby to follow along and enjoy the festival. Arriving at the Trading Company, he is blown away by the amount of gear. Traps, tools, and supplies for anything and everything. Having no direction for his future, the endless possibilities all draw him in. Mining, hunting, smithing, wood working, tanning, fishing, brewing.. his mind reels over and over while he walks through the racks.
"How much for this, Blondie's Survival Rig?"
bedroll 1 sp 5 lbs
1-pint flask 3 cp 1.5 lbs
7 days’ trail rations 3.5 gp 7 lbs
hunting knife 2 gp 1 lb
whestone 2 cp 1 lb
shovel 2 gp 8 lb
hammer 5 sp 2 lbs
2 square yards canvas 2 sp 2 lbs
fishing line and hook 1 sp
flint and steel 1 gp
iron pot 5 sp 10 lbs
tent 10 gp 20 lbs
waterskin 1 gp 4 lbs
Total Cost: 22.95 gp
Weight: 63.5 lbs
Having swiped some items from the Military academy and set out unannounced, Dominic was pretty poorly provisioned. Everything he had brought with him was either for safety or consumed on the way. But now that he's across the country, in a place where he's a no one, there's no reason people wouldn't sell to him or keep him for going on his way. No one is going to grab him by the ear and march him back to the Quartermaster here, You're too young to set out yet, you're just a fool boy trying to run away. He can still hear the disciplinarian's tirades.
Kining scowls at Govrina, but shrugs it off when Dominic asks about the rig. "You can read can't ya? A little less than 23 gold." She continues her watch and directing in the general chaos of the Trading Company.
It takes a bit of searching, but near the mouth of the alley you find the banner that Kining described. Sitting in front of it, on a tiny little lectern is...a squirrel.
It looks up at you with its tiny black eyes, brushes its head with its paws, then speaks. "Oy, you lot want some nuts? I gots the best nuts in town!"
Clapping her hand over her mouth, she nearly squeals in delight.
"Jimminy! A speaking squirrel! OHHHHH...you're the druid! Right? That's ssso cool...and CUTE!"
She then begins haggling for the the candied pecans she's craving with an obviously false bravado of iron will.
Mal is a step behind Govrina, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"And you must be Mamoud. A pleasure sir."
Mal bows deeply and profers a finger for the squirrel to shake.
"your nutting skills are not at question here, infact they are sought. My poor blighted cousin here would like some candied pecans if you have any? (Why anyone would wish to candy a delicious but is beyond me)"
There is honesty and no hint of mockery or condescension in his voice.
Face full of fury, Govrina looks dark clouds at Mal and hisses at him under her breath.
"Blighted? I ought to remove that iron rod from up your bum...through your stomach.""
The squirrel looks nonplussed by Govrina's exclamation, though he reaches out and shakes Mal's finger. "Hah Druid! Lady you gots the wrong idea. See, I was cursed to be like this by some hag in a wood. I was a man of...means and was less than kind to her. Long story short my butt got furry and now I sell nuts."
Mamoud drops behind his miniature stand and pulls out a small sheet of paper. You are just able to make out some scribbling on it as he examines it intensely. "Let's see here...Candied pecans...Aha! You're in luck little lady, I've got just the thing for them." He sticks his paws into his squirrely mouth and seems to dig around in there. Suddenly his cheeks expand before he pulls out a small bag made of wax paper. He places it on his lectern and reaches up both hands to Govrina. "That'll be 3 silver."
Nonplussed at first, Govrina reacts to the price dramatically.
"3 silver! That's outrageous! Wait...did you just pull those out of your MOUTH?"
A look of horrified revulsion slowly turns to normal as the concept hits her fully.
"Yeah...OK. 3 silver...here."
Picking up the bag, Govrina turns and walks away seemingly deflated. her hands carefully wrapped around the wax package.
"Ya find yerself wantin' more nuts ya know who to come to!" Mamoud the squirrel turns to the rest of you. "Sweet kid. Anyone want anything else? I got..." he pauses turning to his list. "Walnuts, roasted chestnuts, plain peanuts, salty nuts, mixed variety nuts..." His list goes on for some time.
"Easy there, boy. Easy now" Vraxis said as he patted Fang's neck from his perch atop the wolf's back.
"Yeah, I'll take some salty nuts. Can you recommend any other sites to see around town?"
"Thank you Mamoud. Tell me, how long have you been in your current... Predicament? And to put it plainly, would you want out?"
Mamoud reaches inside his mouth once more and pulls out another wax paper package before passing it to Vraxis. "Six copper please." Looking up at Mal he starts explaining his story. It is an interesting tale of a successful merchant's son and his relative cruelties towards others. During his travels he found a hedge witch whom he would not help along the road. Well this hedge witch was a real witch and placed a curse on Mamoud.
Luckily he was able to keep his mind and he started trying to adjust to life as a squirrel. He managed to communicate with others through writing until he was able to find a druid and talk with them. Paying vast sums of money he was able to get the ability to speak Taldane. He explains that the curse will eventually wear off, according to the witch, when he learns proper manners. Until then he has had to fend for himself.
He used more money from his inheritance to buy a small bag that was much larger inside than out, and another large sum to have a doctor sew it into his cheek. He laughs about the looks he gets from people who aren't used to it, like Govrina.
"As for other sites in town, if you haven't been to see the Riverwood Shrine I would highly suggest it. Very pretty, especially for being made of so much wood."
As Govrina exits the alleyway the door to the shop on her right also opens. "Great doing business with you Vane!" Out walks a woman covered head to toe in adventuring gear. In fact she is busy storing vials, bottles, and a small kit on her person as she leaves. She uses a walking stick to help with her peg leg and has a sword and longbow slung over her back. Her eyes are faintly cloudy, but she still manages to see Govrina coming out of the alleyway. Govrina recognizes her as Aubrin "Abby" The Green.
"Hey!" she says. "I recognize you from somewhere. Aren't you Gad's kid?"
Startled again so quickly, Govrina stops, trying to regain her composure.
"Ummmm...yeah. Sure! You're Abby? Right?"
"Don't know, let me check." She pulls out a flask emblazoned with the holy symbol of Cayden Caylen and takes a nip. "Cayden's Cup says you're right," she laughs. She starts looking around, "Say, the Keepers aren't out here, are they? Might have to avoid the drink if its something serious."
At hearing Gad's name called out, Vraxis spun Fang in place until he faced the source. He did not recognize the woman, but Govrina seemed to and that was enough.
"Or you might have to drink more" he offered, before popping a few salted nuts into his mouth.
Sighing, Govrina tries to answer tactfully.
"No ma'am. The Keepers have gone their separate ways mostly. My father went back to Jalmeray a few years ago and I have not heard back from him since. It's not really his way, so I expect he's OK, just busy. Nothing keeps Gad'larr down for long."
Govrina chews and swallows heavily on a candied pecan, trying to hide her worry.
"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that, the Keepers were one of the greatest adventuring groups Nirmathas had ever seen. Hell, even I grew up on tales of the trials." Abby hums, rubbing her chin in thought. "How about you all come with me to the Riverwood Shrine? I was going to do a quick service, then spread Cayden's love throughout the town!"
Knowing what that means, Govrina nearly squeals in agreement.
"That means booze! Yes of course...I mean, we would be glad to accompany you on your journey to the shrine, Lady Aubrin."
She then looks at the others smiling and wiggles her thin eyebrows with excitement.
"Count me in" Vraxis said, already missing the cool taste of the ale he had started in the Old Root.
"Are there other gods represented at this shrine?"
"Erastil and Desna are the major gods worshipped in this town, so they have actual statues dedicated to them. But almost all of the other gods have some form of trinket or homemade offering given to them somewhere in the shrine. Come on, I'll show you."
Abby performs a small ceremony dedicated to Cayden Caylen. As promised she then takes you through the town to spread his word. This makes the day go by quickly and you all find yourselves back at the Root, only slightly worse for wear.
Outside, the celebration continues, as raucous shouts carry on the night air. Warmed by the firelight after a long day, any levity comes as a welcome reward to the rough, earthy souls of this riverside trade town.
“So there I am," continues Abby, "thinking, when will I ever be able to talk to a bear again? So before the grizzly can stand back up, I turn to it and say, ‘All I need is the honey. You can keep the bees!’” The room erupts into laughter as Aubrin finishes her winding story and takes another draught from her tankard. “But it’s fine now. All’s good. She named a cub after me. Someday I’m going to have to check in on little Ow Oh Gods That’s Too Many Bees.”
Crowd members share their own boasts and jokes, but eventually someone tops off Aubrin’s tankard and pushes her back into the center of the room.
“All right, all right! Don’t shove,” she slurs a bit. “Okay, Cayden strike me down if this isn’t true—“
The front door explodes into flinders. A cry of agony pierces the chaos. Aubrin lies on the floor, gasping and clutching at the blood gushing from a wound in her chest. A ballista bolt still quivers in the wall behind her.
Two hobgoblins in military dress stand beyond the shattered door, blades drawn. Behind them, lit by the glow of burning homes, dozens—perhaps hundreds—of hobgoblin soldiers march the street. Phaendar burns, shouts of celebration now replaced by the panicked screams of the frightened and dying. Behind them, above the flames and humble rooftops, rises a tower of black stone.
"What in the hells is..." Vraxis didn't finish the sentence. His head, and Fang's, both turned to see what was left of the exploded door.
"What the...Fang, sick'em" Vraxis said as he moved passed people to get to the wounded woman bleeding on the floor. "Now don't you fret none, Ms. Abby was it? I'll have you fixed up in no time."
Fang's nails clacked on the floor as the wolf darted in between the legs of people and chairs. He emerged from underneath one of the tables and scampered up to the nearest hobgoblin, his jaws looking to grab on to the goblinoid's leg.
Seeing the blood and fear on Aubrey's face, Govrina immediately reacts. Memories of a similar scene swims in her vision: Gad'larr Fireblood, monk extraordinaire, jumping and flailing expertly against hordes of hobgoblins burning a distant town...
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"
Her hand slashes out, her Aether answering her call to grab a large spinter of wood and fling it at the nearest Hobgoblin!
Possible Crit?
Vraxis does his best to start pulling Aubrin together, but the damage was too much too fast and blood continues spilling from her wounds.
Govrina's reflexes grab the splinter and toss it with nearly preternatural accuracy, allowing it to slip between the hobgoblins shield and arm, slipping into the joint of its studded leather. The attack shocks the hob, but it responds in kind, swinging its longsword down at Fang while its friend behind it moves to intercept more missiles with its shield.
Mal stands from where he had been crouched behind a fallen table and points to the hindmost hobgoblin, calling them out.
"You've picked the wrong day and the wrong tavern s**t-weasel! You obviously don't know who you're f**king with! Turn around and get out!"