"Well, there's just so much! I haven't been able to see it myself, but some of my friends have told me about all of the best attractions."
"The Aspis Pier juts out 3,000 feet into the harbor. It's a double-decker boardwalk, and spiral staircases go from the lower deck to the upper deck. There's food, games, and lots of tents that kids aren't allowed to go in to. My friend Pietro snuck into one and said that it was pretty boring though--just a bunch of people sitting around on pillows and staring at the ceiling." Armand shrugs. "Grandfather says that he doesn't trust it, because they built it so fast."
"My favorite thing is Beldrin's Tower. Did you know it used to be a magic academy? It had three towers, but two of them fell into the ocean during an earthquake, and all the students died! Grandfather said that the whole place is lousy with ghosts, but the festival people refurbished the remaining tower, so I'm sure it's totally safe. It's a museum now, and it has exhibits with moving illusions that show the history of the city. I think it's better to read about history, but Ii want to see if they have the historically accurate details."
"They also built a real beach in the city, like we're on some sort of tropical paradise. They call it the Coral Beach, and there's tons of sand and places to play in the water. There's even a magic castle under the waves that they pump full of air so people can walk through it. I wonder how they do that?"
Armand rushes through the rest of his explanation, less interested in the rest of the festival. "There's a ton of restaurants, there's some magic lakes, fountains, and ponds, a whole yard full of weird animals, a garden where the plants move around at night, and some kind of war memorial."
"Oh, and the Hall of Nations! Pietro says that there's something there from every country in the world, but...he doesn't know very many countries. I want to see the Graveraker. It's a humongous tunneling machine!"
By the time Armand has exhausted himself, you pull up to what looks like a mid-level tavern in the festival grounds. The exterior looks respectable--probably a place frequented by foreign dignitaries and mid-level officials. Right now, however, the place is loud. You hear voices raised in shouting and song spilling out onto the street, and the tinkling of a falling tray of glassware is distrinctly heard.
Armand looks fascinated: "Grandfather said this was a nice place!"
Dr. Veritan looks for a back door or other indication of where to deliver the kegs.
"Good idea, Citizen. I will guard the wagon while you investigate."
There's no obvious back door. It seems possible that this building was constructed without a good sense of the logistical requirements of a tavern.
The interior of the Tipsy Tengu is a raucous mess of tipped-over chairs and spilled drinks. A motley group of drunken adventurers is the clear cause of the chaos, including a dwarven bruiser wearing a horned helmet, a sloppy elf in robes, an armored human worshipper of Cayden Cailean, and
a leather-clad halfling.
Near the door, a halfling pokes her head out from behind a make-shift barricade formed by a toppled table, "Psst! Over here!" She waves at you to join her and quickly ducks back, just as a mug smashes into the table.
The good doctor will look at his companions, shrug, and follow the halfling behind the barricade. He certainly doesn't want to get beer on his clothes.
Bbehind the table, you find yourselves crouched with a business-like female halfling, a dapper male half-elf, and a concerned-looking female half-orc.
The halfling speaks first. "I'd never let Pathfinders in here--this is a nice place! I did invite some 'adventurer's' in to tell stories though. I thought the clientele would find it exciting."
The half-elf says, primly, "Poor Belberry! You thought they’d add flavor, and they certainly have.” He sticks out his hand to shake. “Hendrid Pratchett. This is my associate, Ralso.” He nods to a hard-looking half-orc woman. “We thought we’d come down and enjoy a quiet night of dinner and drinks before the festivities tomorrow. So much for rest and relaxation, though, eh?”
A thrown mug smashes against the wall and splatter the lot of you with ale.
"These adventurer's aren't bad people, but they have no idea how to conduct themselves in polite company! The looted one of the siege castles outside of town, and now they've spent much of the gold they found on drinks. I should have been suspicious when they couldn't decide if they wanted me to call them the Splendid Spelunkers or the Burning Banshees," moans Belberry. "I'm sure that the Edgewatch will be along soon..." She don't look terribly confident that this is true.
"Pratchett, Ralso, Belberry. A pleasure. We have a precious cargo of beer outside, but clearly we cannot complete delivery until this situation is resolved. Hmmm. So they do not seem belligerent, just drunk and a bit wild? Perhaps they would consent to a battle of wits, brawn and cards? Best two out of three and the losers have to leave?"
"DB, my good sir, I thought it might allow you to show off your martial expertise in a controlled way. What better advertisement?"
"Hendrid and Ralso, what line of work are you in? I wonder if you might aid us if this takes an unpleasant turn."
Pratchett answers you, "I'm a hotelier and Ralso is a clerk. I could help you turn down a sheet, but I don't think that weill be helpful in this situation."
There's a momentary pause in festivities, and a human duel-wielding tankards responds, "What's wrong with a little bit of fun. The Lucky Drunk has smiled on us today, and we are merely spreading the Good News!"
To his friends: "Psst - that halfling looks like he took a coinpurse - maybe one of his fellows? And that robed one has an odd look in her eye."
Loudly to be heard across the room: "Halfing! Perhaps you'd like to wager some of the gold in that coin purse you are fumbling with on a game of cards?"
The cleric looks as thoughtful as an observant Caydenite can manage, and answers, "I suppose you're right. I don't want to interfere with others' worship. There's no one way to enjoy the bounty of the vine. I'll take this outside." He staggers through the doorway and begins lustily singing a ribald Nirmathi drinking song.
The halfling is less impressed. "Hey human, perhaps you'd like to mind your business!"
Dr. Veritan, peaking over the edge of the barricade, tries to make sense of the odd behavior of the robed figure.
"Oh! Oh, my!" The halfling cutpurse squeaks. He thinks better of verbally sparring with DB and hightails it for the door.
Dr. Veritan, the robed figure appears to be drowning her sorrows.
The barbarian still seems bellicose. He slams down a tankard and says, "I came here to drink ale and fight, and it looks like the ale just ran out. I'll take all comers!"
Dr. Veritan will crawl as far as he can get behind the barricade, in then in as dignified a manner as he can muster, stand and approach the sad elf (?) at the bar. "Madam, Dr. Veritan at your service. I'm wondering if I might be of some assistance, even just as a drinking companion."
The elf looks at Dr, Veritan. "Yes, join me, and raise a glass to the memory of Captain Elpeth Talliger von Twinkletrousers, the best damn assistant that a wizard could have asked for!" The sorrowful spellcaster proceeds to ply you with tales of the Captain's exploits, which--though few--seem very heroic. After a few minutes, it becomes clear that the departed was her familiar, an ill-tempered goose whom she..."never kicked! Not even once!"
Meanwhile, K'Marz's spellcasting escapes the notice of the bloodthirsty barbarian.
The dwarf gets a strange look as his eyes become unfocused, and he slumps to the floor, dropping his axe on the way down.
"To the Captain!" The good doctor will use what he knows of psychology to commiserate with the elf about the ups and downs of life, the bond of a familiar, and the quality of the whiskey.
Behind the bar?
With the disruption in the tavern taken care of, the half-orc, Ralso, that was crouching with out rights the table. She, Pratchett, and Belberry walk over to congratulate you.
"Oh, excellent work. Truly, you know how to get a situation in hand." Pratchett compliments you.
Belberry nods, "Yes! I was afraid we'd have quite a lot of property damage. I'll think twice before recruiting adventurers to be the evening's entertainment. Now, who might you be?"
|
Allow me to make your acquaintance. We are the Alleycat Investigators, we solve mysteries and set wrongs to right. We are K'Marz, wizard extraordinaire, the good Doctor Veritan, and I myself am Rory DB Finch, but my friends call me DB. Notwithstanding our job expertise we are actually here to deliver a few kegs of beer. Where shall we put it?
"Ah, my delayed shipment of Jespar's dark? You have really turned the night around. Here, something for your time."
You expect, perhaps, a small honorarium, but she presses a heavy purse into DB's hand. (Inside is 17 gp.)
"Please carry the barrels in here. The idiots I bought this place from didn't build a proper loading dock. After you're finished, enjoy a drink on the house. You are more than welcome to return here any time you wish--though I know better than to offer private investigators free drinks for live. I'll always let you know if I hear any good leads!"
The half-elf, Pratchett, nods at you as well. "You'll always be welcome at our establishment, if you need a place to stay. Just ask for Ralso at the the front desk!"
Armand waits for you on the wagon. "Well, what happened?! I saw some adventurers run out off there. Did you show them the glory of the revolution?"
"Let's go to Beldrin's Tower!" Armand's eyes sparkle at the suggestion.
"We've come all this way, would be a shame to not experience a bit of the festival while we are here."
"Oh, my folks won't be angry. They let me stay out late all the time."
"Armand, I feel a wave of exhaustion coming over me. I fear I do not have a start enough heart to continue after all. But, I think it is fair to say we would all enjoy your company on a visit to the fair very soon. Next time we head this way we will swing by the tavern and get you. I pledge this to you, Citizen!"
Armand looks disappointed, but he puts a good face on it. "Well, you better!"
The boy continues chattering as you guide the empty wagon back toward Jespar's. He's 3/4 of the way through recounting Galt's exit from the Chelish empire when he drops off to sleep in the back of the wagon.
When you get back to the tavern, Jespar thanks you for making the delivery, and taking good care of his grandson. He rewards you with 15 gp and a case of what he refers to as his "more mundane brews."
They turn out to be a lesser antidote, lesser antiplague, and 3 minor elixirs of life.