The town of Sandpoint is alive with excitement on the evening before the annual Swallowtail Festival. Preparations are underway for the massive celebration for the following day, both for the festival and the dedication of the recently completed Sandpoint Cathedral. Spirits are high, and everyone in the coastal Varisian town is eager to begin the festivities.
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In the three plus years Aria had lived in Sandpoint, she'd never seen it so busy. It was as if half the world had descended upon the small town to witness the dedication on the Cathedral and of course the Swallowtail Festival. So basking in the warmth of The Rusty Dragon's fireplace, Aria concluded it was a good thing that she had become friends with Ameiko. It was so busy the Inn had to hire bouncers to turn would be revelers away and by now it was impossible to get in for love nor money.
She glanced around the tap room, a good number of regulars where here of course, including Savah her employer who nodded to her. There where also at least half a dozen bards present tonight, including one who had come from as far as distant Absalom. Rumor had it that there would be a story telling competition tonight, this was going to be awesome!
As she was thinking that, her stomach rumbled and she walked over to the bar to order a roast platter and another ale. Yup tonight was going to be something special, and tomorrow? That was going to be amazing too. Aria made a mental note not to have too many ales, it had been said the events of tomorrow where a once in a lifetime thing and she wouldn't miss it for world.
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As evening falls, Theron finds himself sitting on one of the piers on Sandpoint's docks, his feet dangling over the edge, looking out west over the harbor and ocean beyond. He sits quietly and lets the sounds around him wash over him: the gentle murmuring of the water beneath him; the creaking of the docks; the sound of people milling about, finalizing preparations or otherwise enjoying themselves the night before the Swallowtail festival. The autumn air would likely be pleasantly crisp, or so Theron thinks as he takes another drink of cheap rum from his flask. The liquor brought a warm numbness that made it hard to really tell.
The young Varisian man was sitting out of the way, so no one on the docks seemed to be paying him much attention. Pretty typical, really. Theron had been in Sandpoint for only a couple months, and so far he felt like people in town weren't quite sure what to think of him. His particular rural accent was unusual for this part of Varisia, his well-worn clothing could often be charitably described as "very functional", and his stated purpose for coming to the area -- preparing for a giant attack -- made some look at him a bit funny. People were still nice enough, even if he still felt as much an outsider as the day he arrived.
Theron shakes himself from his reverie. Enough feeling sorry for yourself. It's a celebration, so go celebrate.
He takes another swig from his flask before standing up. He takes a few steps back up the pier, stumbling slightly as he goes. "Guess I drank more than I thought," he mutters. Doing his best to walk steady, he makes his way up Salmon Street, looking for somewhere to entertain himself for the evening. The closest place would be Fatman's Feedbag, but he decides to pass. A little too seedy. He makes his way toward The Rusty Dragon, though he imagines he won't be able to even get inside, let alone drink or sleep there. If that didn't work out, there were still plenty of places to choose from.
Lucino peers out on the still-active streets from behind the knit curtain. Behind him the room is dark, and he knows from the quality of glass in the windows that without a light in the room with him, he's effectively invisible to the passersby below. Perfect.
The halfling had requested this room mainly because its sole window would grant him a rather expansive view of this little corner of... what was it called? Sandpoint? From here he could observe several main roads that either passed by, or converged upon, the entrance to the Rusty Dragon. He had been pleased to discover that it also allowed him to spy on one of the main entrances to the town. He'd already been watching now for several hours, and while the impending festival had certainly been drawing masses of out-of-towners, no one had seemed quite like who he was expecting.
He turns to a table set off to the side, where a cloth napkin is laid out and covered in several exotic powders, leaves, and the crushed remnants of some black seed. He retrieves a steel vial from a case at his feet, unstoppers it, and places it upright on the table. Then, taking the corners of the napkin in hand, he creates a makeshift funnel and gingerly empties the reagents into the vial. His delicate movements are nearly undone when he is startled by a muffled roar of laughter and applause erupting from the common room below. He scowls at the floor momentarily. Satisfied with his work, he gently replaces the stopper on the vial, tucks it into his belt, and begins packing up the case once more.
After several more long hours of observation, Lucino finally allows himself a short and fitful sleep.
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“You look lovely tonight, my dear. Absolutely ravishing.” Verus smiled as he pulled out a chair for Lady Shenya Lund. As she sat down, he leaned over and gently kissed her hand. “Of course, you always do.” Circling to his own seat, he was careful to keep the charming smile on his face as his mind worked. “I’ve taken the liberty of instructing the cook on tonight’s meal, it’s roasted lamb in rosemary sauce. I know that’s your favorite.”
Tonight’s meal was crucial. She was coming around, enough so that she had given him the guest house to live in, but she wasn’t quite a true believer yet. He’d gotten as far as he had more on his natural charm than through true conversion. She believed now in Groetus and the coming end, but she didn’t see just how imminent it must be, and didn’t see it as the good thing it clearly was. The world was a terrible place, full of death and terror. People were robbed and killed by bandits, taken by slave traders, killed and eaten by unnamable monsters in the wild. Why should this terrible place go on? Why not end it and start anew? And since it is ending, and we can’t bring our material possessions with us, why not enjoy ourselves while it lasts?
Shenya nibbled thoughtfully on a cherry tomato as Verus began to expertly go through his arguments one by one. His practiced voice slipped into an almost mesmerizing cadence, seeming to speak directly to his listener’s soul. Any time she seemed to be losing interest or losing the thread of his logic, he immediately noticed and changed tack to bring her back. For over an hour he spoke, with short interruptions as the kitchen help brought first a salad, then the lamb with spiced potatoes, and finished with a deliciously sweet crème brûlée.
As the table was cleared he elegantly dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a napkin and stood. ”Enough of serious talk. Shall we go out tonight? I’m sure we can happen upon a party or two, as people celebrate the beginning of the festival. Come, let us enjoy the night.”
Sitting at a table in the common room of the Rusty Dragon is a man approaching his middle year. Hisearly graying hair appears a bit unkempt. A cup of wine and a half eaten plate of food are pushed to the side.
Several pieces of parchment are spread out on the table in front of the man. He has various tools, pens, and ink vials out and appears to be making notes in a journal while checking a crudely drawn map that has a number of notations made along its edges. There is also a checklist of supplies needed sitting along side the map.
Writing in his journal he documents his day. The mood in town is celebratory with the completion and upcoming dedication of a new cathedral here in Sandpoint. It appears that they have been having a festival as part of the festivities leading up to the dedication. Unfortunately for me this has resulted in a delay with being able to get my needed supplies for another venture in the Varisian wilds to visit a nearby Thassilonian ruin that I have been documenting over the past month. Hopefully after the dedication things will return to normal here and I can get what I need to continue my studies.
On a lighter note I have been witness in a rather unique confluence of varying religions coming together here. It would appear that this small hamlet has chosen to make the new cathedral multi-denominational. I wonder how well that will work out and if that means the place will have multiple head priests. More on this later if answers can be found.
The evening continues to night, full of preparations for some, revelry for others, and rest for those who want to make the most of their festival day.
The morning dawns the following day with the sun shining, birds chirping, and the same tangible excitement still in the air. Many of those serving food, hosting games, or selling their wares at the festival are up early setting up. Others who plan to just enjoy the festivities grab breakfast at the Rusty Dragon or the White Deer before heading out into town to start the day.
Around 9am, everyone starts to gather around a stage that's been set up in front of the newly completed cathedral. A woman with short auburn hair stands in the center. Behind her sit four wooden chairs, three of them occupied. As the crowd notices her, a hush descends and all eyes turn to the stage. She smiles and begins to speak:
"Welcome! As many of your know, my name is Kendra Deverin and I am proud to serve as mayor of this fine town. It's wonderful to see so many of you here to join us on this proud day. I'd like to extend my welcome to the many new faces I see in the crowd. I hope you all are enjoying your stay here in Sandpoint and especially if it is your first visit here I sincerely hope that you're having a wonderful time. And to all of the old faces I see today, thank you for coming and thank you for everything that each of you has done to keep this town strong in recent years. I see that even Larz Rovanky has torn himself away from work to join us today! It is truly a miracle from Desna herself!”
There is quite a bit of laughter and many eyes are turned to a serious looking man dressed in all leather and wearing a sour expression on his face. Kendra waves to him and continues.
“Without further ado, let me introduce your Sheriff, Belor Hemlock!"
A dour looking man wearing a worn breastplate and a longsword belted at his waist stands and walks to the center of the stage. His eyes are constantly moving about the crowd. He shakes the Mayor's hand and begins to speak.
"Thank you Mayor. Even in the heat of celebration, let us not forget the sad events that brought us to this day. And also let us not forget the souls that were lost five years ago. I would like you to all join me in a moment of silence to remember the lives that were lost in the fire that claimed our previous chapel on that fateful night.”
The Sheriff lowers his head and the crowd joins him, many of them quite awkwardly as the silence persists. After the moment is over, the Sheriff raises his head and begins to speak again.
“In remembering let us also not allow these events to repeat themselves. I am of the understanding that a bonfire is planned for tonight. I urge you all to observe caution during this event," he says, clearing his throat and smiling awkwardly. "And ummm... Enjoy yourselves. Let me introduce the next speaker; give your attention to Cyrdak Drokkus, proprietor of the local theater."
He nods to the crowd and walks back to his chair, passing the next speaker who is already on his way up to the center-stage. This man is quite a contrast to the Sheriff; he is brightly dressed and seems to be thoroughly enjoying the day. As he reaches the center stage he loosens his collar a bit, winks into the crowd and starts to talk:
"Well, thank you Sheriff for that uplifting oratory. Now I know this town has been through some hard times, but look at what we've accomplished,” he says, motioning towards the church. ”And I'm telling you, they spared no expense with this place. Father Zantus' chamber pot? Solid gold. I kid you not, our generous nobles put a pretty copper into the construction of this joint. I think the Churches even chipped in a silver or two! I even heard a rumor that all of the Gods got together and scrounged up four gold pieces to help get this thing built! But don't take it from me, the Padre over here is the one with the direct line, he's the one you want to hear from! But before I let him get things going I'd like to take this opportunity to extend my personal invitation to each and every one of you to the new production of "The Harpy's Curse" starring the world-famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda as Avisera the harpy queen! It's all premiering tomorrow evening at the Sandpoint Theatre and it is going to be fab-u-lous! And now join me in a bit of applause for his holiness himself, Father Zantus!"
The crowd cheers as Cyrdak motions Zantus to the center stage. The priest looks noticeably abashed at the reception set up for him. He wears the traditional ceremonial robes of a priest of Desna and a shiny silver holy symbol about his neck. He smiles and tries to calm the crowd down, eventually speaking when the applause has subsided:
"Ahem, thank you. Thank you Cyrdak. And thank all of you for coming to join us on this most holy day. Today is a day of new beginnings so without boring you with long speeches, I declare the Swallowtail Festival officially underway!"
The day's festivities start with games that you notice have been set up all around the main square. You see:
The Devil Hunt - Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil and keep him from menacing the surrounding area? Take a shot and see!
The Lighthouse Smash - Who needs a lighthouse without a light? The Old Lighthouse has become an eyesore; let's knock it down so we can use the stone to build something new!
Dragon Races - There's been talk of starting dragon farming in Sandpoint, so we need to find out which are the fastest so that we have the best dragons! Pick yourself a dragon and pit it in a Dragon Race against your friends!
Ogre Stomp - Step on up and show your strength! There's no place for noodle-armed weaklings here!
Wendell wanders around the booths set up for the festival and spotting the games he decides to give on a chance just for something to do this morning.
"My good sir, I would like to take a chance at the race. Is the green silver dragon still available for choice in the race?"
Theron wakes in his room to bright sunlight, chirping birds, and a beautiful morning -- as well as a moderate yet persistent headache. The previous night had become somewhat hazy after he made his way to the Hagfish and started matching drinks with one of the men there. Still, he'd somehow made his way to the Rusty Dragon rather than ending up somewhere much less comfortable. He decides to count himself lucky in that respect as he gets ready.
Bleary-eyed, he eats a light breakfast to help his headache subside. When he finishes, makes his way out of the inn and onto the streets of Sandpoint. Theron quickly joins the throng of people gathering near the Cathedral to observe the opening ceremony. He silently takes note of Cyrdak's advertisement for his play and his mention of Allishanda. Theron wasn't usually one for theater, but a world-famous diva might be worth seeing, particularly if she turned out to be as beautiful as she was famous. Maybe he could even meet her. Of course he'd probably have to clean up his appearance if he did. Maybe do something with his hair?
Theron's odd flight of fancy is interrupted by the final speaker's declaration of the start of the Swallowtail Festival. Thankful that no one can hear his thoughts, he applauds with the rest of the crowd before moving off to wander the booths and attractions. He notices the Devil Hunt game and goes to find the person running it.
"I'm somethin' of a decent shot, I like to think," Theron says, indicating his own longbow. "What're the rules for this game?"
Next morning somewhat worse for wear, Aria stepped out of The Rusty Dragon and marveled at the great throng of people. She hadn't intended to drink quite so much, but the tellers completion had been amazing and one flagon kind of lead to another. Thankfully she'd been too stuffed with Ameiko's fabulous steak pies to have truly gotten drunk. She was sure the low grade headache would soon evaporate like the morning dew.
She wandered the streets for a while before listening to Sheriff Hemlock and the others opening the festival. There was a general hubbub of excitement in the air and various games of skill and strength to try. She felt like playing something, but didn't account herself as a terribly good shot with the bow. Perhaps races or the even the Ogre Stomp, she tittered at the thought. That was silly, she was strong but others where way stronger - still she was curious, to see how badly she'd do. So she wandered over to the Ogre Stomp stall and asked the attendant, "Hey how does this work?"
Lucino finishes the last of his buttered toast, wiping his mouth neatly and stacking his dishes just so. The common room had been entirely empty all morning, and he belatedly realizes, with no small amount of amusement, that the raucous celebrations he'd cursed the night before were now responsible for keeping the other tenants in their beds, sleeping off Cailean's curse.
He pays Ameiko the cost of his meal, steps out the front door, and begins meandering about the town. While walking around, he tries to build a mental picture of the town, noting a few establishments and alleyways here and there, and it isn't much longer before he starts seeing merchant townsfolk - and a few out-of-towners - opening up storefronts and setting up stalls around the main square. Soon it seems that everyone, visitor and local alike, have awoken and made their way to the town square. Lucino finds a small group of halflings and blends in with them to listen.
When the festival is truly underway, he attempts to find Father Zantus, but the priest always seems to be in the middle of something associated with the festival. He eventually gives up and begins to peruse the games; the dragon races catch his eye for a moment, but he ultimately settles on the Lighthouse Smash.
Verus wanders the festival grounds idly, too hung over to participate in any of the events or even to be particularly sociable, a rarity for him. Eventually he finds a spot near the dragon races and settles in to watch.
Set up in the Sandpoint Market Square, this game has two double lane tracks set next to each other with a three-foot wide gap between the two 30-foot-long tracks. Near the starting line is a large cage with 12 lizards, each with a set of twig-and-cloth wings attached to their backs and painted different colors to look like miniature dragons.
The man running the game, who introduces himself as Gressel Tenniwar, asks for a single copper piece to play and then allows you to choose a “dragon.”
As you approach, you see an archery range has been set up on the beach down by the lighthouse. Two large targets, with silhouettes of a scary looking winged horse splashed across the center, are set up about 150 feet away from where you stand. The bullseye is about where the creature’s heart would be.
An older, balding Varisian man with black hair, a big thick mustache, and a noticeably big belly beckons you forward.
”Think you’ve got what it takes to bring down this menace? I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the Sandpoint Devil, and I can assure you it’s no easy task! One copper piece gets you two shots!”
Set up in near the smithy and is run by the local smith, Das Korvut (who seems as though he’s already had an ale or three), this game is a pure test of strength. A weight has been placed on one end of a board set over a pivot. To play, you use a wooden mallet to strike the other end of the board, sending the weight up a split log toward a bell 10 feet in the air.
”Come, test your strength if you dare!” Das says as you approach, slurring his words slightly. The game costs 1 copper piece per swing.
At the end of Junker’s Way next to the lighthouse, a table with nine square stones sits about 20 feet away from a mini catapult that’s been set up for the game. The nine stones have been stacked in a pyramid shape, and the goal is to try to knock down the stack of stones in three shots of the catapult.
A man named Aesrick Battlehorn asks for one copper piece to try your luck, and brags that he’s spent all year working on the mini-catapult for the game.
"All right then Das, I'll try anything twice...", Aria grinned at the Smith who seemed to be well on his way to getting half cut despite the hour. She handed over a couple of coins, and accepted the mallet. She gave it an experimental swing before suddenly lifting it high over her shoulders and bringing it down hard in a wild swing upon the end of the board. Aria's aim was a little off and the mallet smashed into the corner of the board wasting much of it's momentum, the weight didn't go as high as he'd have liked.
'Perhaps there's more skill to this and it looks' she thought, 'like chopping firewood which is about letting gravity do most of the work.' This time she visualized where she wanted the mallet to hit, and lifted it with a fluid motion and let it fall, guiding it onto position. It hit solidly in the center with a satisfying THWACK!
Theron eyeballs the distance to the targets, then hands a copper piece to the balding man. He picks up the longbow, weighing it in his hand, getting a feel for it. He nods. "Isn't mine, but it'll do."
He lines up his first two shots and fires.
Theron sighs exasperatedly, unsatisfied with his shooting. He indicates that he's clearly not done and flips another copper piece to the balding man.
Two misses in a row is followed by a string of muttered cursing in Varisian as Theron fishes another copper piece out of his coinpurse. "No way I'm letting that stand. Can't imagine how angry father'd be seeing that kind of shooting from me."
The young ranger closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Focus, Theron. You know this. His eyes open, and he nocks an arrow and takes aim at the first target.
With practiced ease, Theron takes a second arrow, nocks it, and looses it at the second target all in one fluid motion.
Wendell steps up to the cage holding the lizards and stoops down to take a close look at them all. He watches them move and interact. He checks for injury such as a limp, wound, or hampered movement. "The dragons are looking good over all. Have any of them tried taking flight yet with their new wings?" Wendell says with a cheeky grin.
Wendell pulls a copper piece out of his coin pouch and passes it over to the gamemaster. "Mister Tenniwar, my good man. I do believe I will take my chances on Silver. He is looking rather quick today."
Verus leans on the cage holding the "dragons" and smiles widely at the many people lining up to enter the race. "This looks like a fun race! Come pick your dragon!" He steps over to Gressel Tenniwar and flips him a coin. "I'll take the mighty red dragon, and beware all who vex him!"
He takes barely a glance at the lizards running about the cage. He's more interested in the throngs of people milling about, laughing and chattering in groups of friends.
Nothing like a festival to brighten your day. Even with a hangover I can't stay down with this many happy people about. As I always say, "enjoy every day as if it's your last!"
On your first attempt, you miss with your first arrow but hit the target with your second, though you hit near the outside edge. A bit shaken, your next two arrows sail well above the target. The man running the game chuckles and moves to take the bow from you.
"Better luck next time, son..." but your words cut him off.
"No way I'm letting that stand. Can't imagine how angry father'd be seeing that kind of shooting from me."
He backs away, taking the copper from you, and watches in amazement as your next two arrows fly straight into the center of the target, right through the creature's heart.
"Ho ho! Incredible shots! What's your name, son?" he asks, reaching down and grabbing a small fruit pie and handing it to you.
Das hands you the mallet and you take your first swing, flinging the weight up to the blue line on the split log - an average result. A few people half-heartedly clap, and Das moves to hand you a ribbon.
"Not too bad, here you g-" he starts to say, but you cut him off.
Flipping him a copper piece, you take another swing and this time the weight flies toward the top and slams into the bell, ringing it loudly.
The crowd cheers loudly, and Das hands you a cute stuffed bear as a prize.
"I'm sure anyone would love to receive that from you as a gift after that display of strength!" he says, patting you on the back a little harder than he probably planned to.
Four "dragons," including the red and silver dragons, are removed from the cage and placed in the track. Gressel instructs that those with a dragon in the race can say anything they want to the dragons, but they can't be touched. As he says go, people from all around start shouting toward the lizards.
"Come on Red, you can do this!" Verus begins cheering, smiling widely. He looks across at the other "dragon" racers. "Quite a day, isn't it? Days like this are made to be enjoyed with friends, old and new. My name is Verus, by the way. I'm fairly new in town, and it looks like I came at the perfect time to have some fun!"
As the lizards start off, he begins to jump and yell encouragement to his red-painted racer, looking for all the world like a young boy having the time of his life.
Aria grinned at Das and accepted the bear replying, "Why thank you!" She wandered off and stared at it for a moment not quite believing that she had just won a trail of strength! 'Perhaps this is my lucky day after all!' she thought while she looked around the other games.
Noticing a crowd round in the Sandpoint Market Square where Gressel had set up the 'Dragon Races', Aria wandered over to see what what the fuss was about. A group of people where shouting at some lizards. Aria idly considered placing a glamour on to make them look like real dragons, but then she realized she hadn't memorized that spell today. She then paid attention to the players, most of them where locals but one of them stood out. He was tall, handsome and seemingly rather excitable. Thinking this might be interesting, she stayed to watch.
Watching his chosen lizard leap off to an unfortunate start Wendell decides that a little coaxing on his end wouldn't be undue. "High-ho Silver away!" Wendell yells a bit of encouragement while at the same time using his staff to cast mage hand and give the little fellow a boost to the front.
"You are quite right my good sir. You did in come on a day of fun and festivity." Wendell turns and gives the man a hearty thump on his shoulder along with a smile. "My name is Wendell. Wendall Romanski. Perhaps you've heard of me?"
Lucino listens as the barker Aesrick explains the device he's just set out on the grounds, and finds himself rather fascinated by the construction, although it's still not exactly his area of expertise. Perhaps something to learn more about in the future, he thinks as he watches Aesrick go through the motions of how to shoot.
The halfling retrieves a copper piece from his pouch and hands it over before turning to the device. Taking great care to line up his shot, he then presses the firing mechanism.
Seeing his first shot go quite wide, and doing his best to ignore the chuckles rising up from several onlookers, he shifts the catapult to compensate, firing again.
He is pleased to see a hit! Reduced to one remaining shot, Lucino closes his eyes for a brief moment and asks for the luck of Desna to further aid him.
A nervous tic in his hand jostles the catapult just enough to throw off the third shot. Ah well.
Theron smiles, satisfied with himself. He sets aside the bow and turns to face the man running the game, but is surprised to find a small pie thrust into his hands as a prize. "Well thanks!" he replies cheerfully. "I'm Theron Istral, at your service."
After the appropriate pleasantries, Theron wanders back toward the main market square to see what else the festival has to offer. He hold his new pie close to his body as he weaves through the crowded streets, trying to protect it from being knocked out of his hands or otherwise ruined by some oblivious passerby. He arrives to find, among other things, a small crowd of people gathered around a pair of tracks where lizards with wings crudely attached to them were apparently racing. Various contestants were shouting at and cheering on their chosen "dragons" with varying degrees of success. I wonder if any of these people have ever actually worked with animals, Theron wonders to himself, idly picking at his prize pie as he watches the proceedings.
Wendell's silver lizard miraculously flies to the end of the track and crosses the finish line well before anyone else's. The man leading the event looks shocked, and you notice that he shoots a sideways look at another black-haired Varisian man - whose face is set in a scowl - standing nearby.
"Well, I guess we have a winner. Here's your prize," he says, handing Wendell a cheap medal that says "First Place - Swallowtail Festival Dragon Races" and continuing to glance back at the Varisian man, who is now playing out gold coins to those who bet on Wendell's lizard.
After two of Luciano's three shots flew far wide, a few of the stones remained standing.
"Tough luck, lad," Aesrick says, patting you on the shoulder. "Looked like you had the hang of it there for a moment!"
He then begins looking around to see if anyone else was waiting to try the game, his attention leaving Luciano.
"Theron Istral, eh? Attention! Theron here has done Sandpoint a great service. He has slain the Sandpoint Devil!"
A few of the onlookers begin to cheer and clap before chuckling at the silliness of it all and going back to what they were doing.
As it gets closer to noon, the local taverns begin to bring out an incredible assortment of food, all free of charge to the festival goers. While the food from all the taverns is quite good, it quickly becomes clear that the darling of the lunch is, as usual, Ameiko Kaijitsu. Her 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.
Aria watched with amusement when the Dragon Races had an unlikely winner, a somewhat unkempt older man with graying hair. She was fairy sure she'd seen him in the tap room at inn last night. Apparently he was called Wendall Romanski, not that she'd heard of him.
She was pretty sure he'd just cheated, having cast what appeared to be a mage hand to propel the lizard along. Judging from Gressel's reaction this hadn't gone unnoticed although nobody moved to decry Wendall. Aria guessed it simply wasn't worth the hassle. She then looked at the younger handsome contestant to see if he'd noticed, this might get exciting!
Lucino takes one more curious glance at the catapult to try and remember its design, then steps away from the game allowing the next person room to play. He meanders from game to game, not participating but contented to just observe in passing. He pauses a few moments to observe the fresh commotion of a Dragon Race just having finished, apparently in some sort of unexpected upset. He notices more than a few folks looking on - some in envy, some in curiosity, and some in anger - at the older man who had apparently won. One of these in particular catches his notice: a woman with deep red hair sporting a rather remarkable tattoo of a dragon on one shoulder.
After lingering a bit longer, he finds himself wandering the tents set up in the market square, mostly browsing for unusual oddities here and there. He discreetly keeps an eye on the crowds, hoping to notice anyone that appeared to be searching for someone. This vigilance is only partially broken when he smells half a dozen tasty lunch offerings being set up. He helps himself to a shank of peppercorn venison and a draught of local beer, then finds an empty seat on a wooden bench near the now-vacant main stage where he can enjoy his lunch.
Verus turns to the eventual winner with a laugh. "Wendell Romanski. I've certainly heard the name. Congratulations on your victory! Looks like you picked a smart lizard. It saved quite a push for the end there."
Immediately putting the race behind him, he turns to the rest of the crowd. On this special day, we should thank the gods for the bounty before and around us. I thank Groetus for the days we have, and say let's enjoy this beautiful day while we have it!"
He winks at the tall redhead in the crowd, shakes Wendell's hand once more, and begins to make his way through the throng of people toward the food being laid out on tables. "Ah, which delectable delicacies do I desire first?"
'Groetus?' Aria arched one eyebrow in surprise, that was a turn up for the books. 'Damnit did he just wink at me? He did! I'm not sure how I feel about that. He is handsome. But Groetus...'
Distracted, she watched the interplay while she inwardly debated what to do next. There where other games, but there was also food. In the end her stomach gurgled and she headed back to towards the Rusty Dragon. Ameiko always did something special for the festival and this year she'd really outdone herself, curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead, yum!
Theron finds himself a bit perplexed at the entire situation that unfolds around the race. Little about the silver lizard's appearance or behavior suggested it would finish as fast as it did. Then one of the others, a handsome, friendly-looking sort, talks about a god called 'Groetus', whoever that was. Some kind of festival god, maybe. Then he winks at someone and wanders off.
Theron shrugs. Festivals always seemed to bring out the oddballs.
He moves away from the racing crowd and toward the Rusty Dragon. He is determined to sample as much food and drink from as many places as he can, and Ameiko's offering is as good a place as any to start. He starts by grabbing a mug of the winterdrop mead and draining in one go. Delicious! Theron gets his mug refilled and grabs a plate of the salmon.
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 whom 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 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.
The Swallowtail Festival passes as expected through the rest of the afternoon, and a jovial mood is palpable throughout the town. As the sun begins to set, everyone is a bit more full, many are quite a bit more drunk, and most feel as though the festival was an out and out success.
A sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, slices through the excited crowd as the sun’s setting rays paint the western sky. A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake, and the buzz of two dozen conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus has taken the stage. He clears his throat, takes a breath to speak, and suddenly a woman’s scream slices through the air.
A few moments later, another scream rises, then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises— high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human. The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pools around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
"Goblins chew and goblins bit,
Goblins cut and goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!
"Goblins race and goblins jump,
Goblins slash and goblins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!
"Chase the baby, catch the pup,
bonk the head to shut it up.
Bones be cracked; flesh be stewed,
We be goblins! You be food!"
It takes little time to see that the cause of the chaos is a swarm of goblins that have set upon the Sandpoint town square. They shriek and leap and race and cackle through the festival, taking great joy in the panic and fear they spread among the humans. Some wave torches and light tents on fire, while others chase children and pets with ill intent. The entire time, the eerie song continues to ring in your ears.
Amid the chaos, the five of you stand without fleeing, seemingly ready to protect the town. Four goblins emerge from behind a cart, smiling from ear to ear and cackling in a mad glee.
Wendell seems utterly oblivious to the fact that he may have done anything wrong during the dragon race nor to the fact that anyone may have noticed what he did. Wendell wanders away from the race proudly wearing his ribbon and chatting for a few of the onlookers about how a proud he is to have picked a good dragon for the race.
He makes his way over to the food and drink set about. I do hope that the fruit salad is good. I am so looking forward to it. Wendell makes up a plates of meats, cheese, veggies, and a scoop diced mixed fruits. He also manages to find a glass of wine and takes a seat on a nearby bench to enjoy his meal.
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"I see the wilds around town have brought us a few out of control guests. If everyone would be so kind as to help curtail our new guests disruptive behavior it would be greatly appreciated."
Wendell pulls a piece of curled leather from his pouch and taps himself three times upon his chest while saying "Arma magus."
Stomach full of food and drink, Theron had been enjoying the buzz that was keeping him warm as the day drew to a close. As such, he takes a moment to realize that the screams he is hearing aren't part of some festival ceremony. It soon becomes apparent what is happening, and he prepares for a fight.
Yeah, curtail disruptive behavior. Sure. Theron quickly draws an arrow and fires at the closest goblin of the group.
When the goblins arrived, Aria's jaw dropped and she did a double take, "Huh? What!?" She could scarcely believe it, goblins in the heart of Sandpoint! What was the world coming to?
Without realizing it, her prize teddy fell to the floor as she scrabbled for her rapier. She nearly got the darned thing stuck as she yanked it out of it's sheath. Realizing there where at least four of the nasty things behind a near by stall, she had the presence of mind to whisper the words to a warding spell. Suddenly an insubstantial disc of force appeared in front of her!
Spells memorized:
Cantrip: Daze, Detect magic, Light
1st: Used, Shield, Shield
Resources:
Arcane Reservoir: 3/3
Well, this just got a lot more interesting. Verus rushes in the direction of the goblin singing, fighting his way through the crowd running the other way. When he gets closer, he sees the other festival goers who have decided to stand up to the goblins and flashes them a smile. "Alright, folks, we can handle a few goblins without too much trouble. Let's do this!"
When he gets close enough to his new allies, he puts his hand to the skull-faced moon pendant hanging around his neck and begins praying out loud. "Harbinger of the last days, mighty Groetus, give us your strength. We are not yet ready to end our time on this world. Please bless us in our fight against these false agents of destruction."
With the spell cast, he draws his flail and prepares to face the goblins.
The commotion seemingly explodes out of nowhere. Lucino had looked to the stage to see Father Zantus, much like everyone else, and now he finds himself trying to look everywhere all at once as he tries to spot what exactly is going on. He instinctively checks his sleeves and comes away satisfied. Preparation is paramount.
He first notices a pair of men, evidently Varisian, who he'd spotted at the Dragon Races earlier; unlike the majority of festival-goers, they appeared to be standing their ground. They were looking at a workman's cart covered in various fruits, and he couldn't quite figure out why - until he saw them. Bulbous red eyes, gleaming from bloated heads, balanced precariously atop spindly bodies. He knew goblins from stories, but he knew the stories could never have prepared him to see the little fanged firebugs in person.
He was about to bolt, until he saw the dog that had been butchered, and his nerve returned. He angled his wrists and two daggers leapt out from his sleeves into waiting hands, as the man nearest him pulled his bow and fired an arrow in the direction of the cart. He moved to stand next to him, cocked his arm, and hurled a dagger at one of them as well.
The goblins cackle in glee when they see a group of Longshanks preparing to fight, and laugh even louder as Theron's arrow misses well above their heads.
One of the goblins runs around the edge onto the stage where Father Zanthus stood just moments ago.
Another seems to follow him, but cuts his run short and heads right for Aria, a short, curved sword in hand. The goblin hears a yell of triumph as his companion reaches the stage, which momentarily distracts him, causing the thrust of his sword to miss Aria entirely.
The other two leap up onto the cart they had been hiding behind, returning arrows toward Theron with their shortbows. Only one hits its mark, wounding Theron in the leg.