It is early morning on the first day of Autumn, and already Sandpoint is buzzing with activity. After long years of building works and praying in makeshift wooden chapels, today is the day that the newly built Cathedral will be opened during the annual “Swallowtail festival.” The festival is always a highlight in the Sandpoint year, but with the opening of the Cathedral this year is extra special and the festival has been the hottest topic of conversation for months.
The streets are packed as what seems like it must be the whole population of Sandpoint make their way to the central square where a speaking platform has been erected in front of the new chapel, ready for the opening ceremony to begin.
A young man stood among the crowd, looking around but his eyes never lingered on anything for more than a moment.
While not ugly by any means, the young man's attire is bizzare: his shirt's buttons are misaligned and untucked, the leg on one of his pants was tucked into his engineer boots while the other was untucked, and he wore a massive belt that didn't match either shirt or pants. goggles rested on his forehead, and he carried a short walking staff.
While Kejal herself is a worshipper of Sarenrae, the Dawnflower, she's pleased to happen to be in Sandpoint during the festival honouring Desna. As a traveler herself, she thinks often of those who would follow Desna and explore the world, seeing all of the beauty and mystery within it.
Sandpoint felt to her to be quaint and charming. It was difficult to believe that it was the same town she'd heard about - one marred by violence and a burned church. They'd done well to put the past behind them, she thought, looking around at the festival. Still, this unfortunately meant that Kejal saw little reason to stay longer than the day. If things truly were prosperous and calm in Sandpoint, she'd have to move on.
Kejal wears a simple tunic, primarily white but with trim of blue and gold. Despite her obviously not being from here, her clothes do not look either worn or dirtied. On her feet are simple sandals, and while she carries no weapons, her hands have simple strips of cloth wrapped around the fist and palm. Her golden-orange hair is kept in a simple braid, her bright blue eyes looking out from her bangs.
Beneath a banner reading 'Velder's Leatherworks', a human, dark hair streaked with grey, stands hawking his wares. The front shelf of the stall is lined with brightly colored balls and butterfly wings on harnesses; the back wall has more practical clothing.
Marcan spots a local kid looking to palm one of the balls from the shelf; he covers the target with his hand at the last moment, and after making eye contact, says with a smile "Next time, just ask."
Marcan The child flashes a cheeky (and completely unrepentant) smile, before running to join his friends who are heading along with the tide of crowds into the main square. The only people not joining the crowds are your fellow traders, who are busy making the last adjustments to their stalls. Today should be good business.
Kejal and Jonathan You make your way across the ever more crowded square and find space to watch the festivals opening ceremony.
The square quickly becomes crowded as people file in, gathering in small groups of family and friends that steadily get pushed closer and closer together until the area in front of the stage is decidedly cosy, and the only way to maintain a decent amount of personal space is by hanging back by the edges of the square.
Sherrif Hemlock and his men are keeping a vigilant watch on the crowds. The atmosphere is jubilant and this seems like the start of a new page after the recent troubles but you can never be sure with the way tempers have been flaring lately and the crowd holds almost as many visitors as locals, all drawn to the town by the promise of festive opportunities.
The crowd is just starting to become restive when Mayor Devlin climbs the stage rousing a cheer from the crowd which she quells with a gesture and a proclamation of thanks. “Well this must be the most anticipated event of the year, and it is my honour to welcome you all to the annual Swallowtail festival, especially this year when we have so much to celebrate. And what a turnout. Larz Rovanky, I do believe this is the first time I have seen you outside that Tannery of yours.” This gets a chuckle and a few cheers from the locals in the crowd, “and plenty from further afield I see. Has anyone made it from Magnimar?...” She goes on like this calling out different places and people, working the crowd and welcoming each in turn to enjoy the festival.
Sheriff Hemlock steps up next and addresses the crowd with a much more sombre tone. “While today is a festival, and enjoyment is of course not to be discouraged, I would remind you all of the importance of safety and civil behaviour in ensuring that this is a fun day for everyone. Most importantly, as always we will be holding a bonfire this evening and I don’t think the people of this town need reminding about how dangerous fire can be. So instead of telling you all things you should already know about being careful near the fire this evening, I am just going to ask that you all respect a minuits silence in memory of the people who lost their lives in the fire that claimed our church just five years ago. The church has now been replaced, but our neighbours have not.”
His mood seems to infect the crowd as a mostly respectful silence spreads across the square. It is ended by a simple thank you from the Sheriff as he steps aside to make room for the next speaker.
Luckily the Jubilant spirit is restored by the local thespian Cyrak Drakus, who launches into a whole speil of the amusing anecdotes, near disasters, and comical triumphs that have accompanied the rebuilding of the cathedral over the last five years. He finishes with an exhortation for people to visit the theatre later in the evening. “We are playing the most critically acclaimed ‘Harpies Curse’ led by the beautiful queen of the Harpies, all the way from Magnimar, non other than Allishanda herself!!”
Mutters and gasps ripple across the square at this announcement that one of the most popular players in Vassilon is in surprise residence at the local theatre.
Lastly Father Zantus steps up to the stage. “Thank you all for coming to what I hope will be a truly memorable day, and the start of a new chapter in the life of our town. Today we celebrate not only Legend of Desna, nursed back to health by a child whom she transformed into a butterfly, and in memory of which we will be celebrating at noon, followed by a buffet of free meals provided by our generous tavern’s, but also the consecration of our new and lovingly built church this evening. You have all worked hard to bring us to this moment, so now is the time to enjoy the fruits of your labour. I officially declare the festivities open.”
Cheers go up, and the crowd begins to disperse amongst the stalls and events that have been set up around the square and nearby town streets.
Jonathon
As Jonathon browses the stalls, two catch his eye;
A Balding Scholar is presiding over a stall crammed whith various books and nicknacks claiming to be relics of anceant thassilonia. As the thassilonians were legendary experts at Rune magic, it is possible that his stall hides something of interest.
Another stall is laid out with bones and tarot cards. A woman swaddled in mystic robes sits in the shadows, beneath a sign declaring 'Madame Mvashti's fortunes and charms.'
Kejal has a wide grin through most of the speeches, feeling enthused by the crowd's excitement, that only falters slightly when Sheriff Hemlock mentions their neighbors. For a moment, she wonders if there might be a problem to solve here after all, but then looks around at the festivities again and puts the idea out of her mind.
Moving through the crowd and eyeing the stalls as she goes, Kejal enjoys the spectacle of it all. While most of it is things that she would not participate in, such . as gambling or wrestling, the presence of them was still a comfort.
Curiously, she moved towards the fortune teller stand, greeting the woman, before asking "Which of the gods or goddesses do you draw your knowledge from?"
Jonathan moved towards the balding scholar's stall, picking up and intently staring at a dozen items before returning them to the table.
"Is your entire offering Thassilonian in nature?" Jonathan asked, staring intently into the man's eyes.
As the crowds drain away towards the main square, Marcan leaves the stall to his wife for a few minutes during the lull and heads over to the Kaijutsu's stall, chatting briefly before leaving with two platefuls of food.
When the crowds start to return, he starts juggling a few balls and calling out his wares, keeping one eye out for those with coin to spend, and one for anyone looking to make trouble.