Amaryllis paused briefly to give the mirror a passing glance as their neared the town. She had a fairly garish fashion sense, garbed in brilliant reds offset by stark white, and a mixture of jewelry carefully polished to catch the light of the sun overhead - though her appearance was very intentionally eye catching, as her occupation was one the required keeping people's attention.
Her hair could be best described as organized chaos, wavy locks tousled and only loosely pulled up into a ponytail... But still tidy and well-maintained even considering the long trip; though she fully intended to do a bit of maintenance on it before the festivities began. Her face was plastered with a friendly, welcoming expression, though her eyes were sharp and showed a hint of cunning, constantly scanning her surroundings as she walked... And of course her sun kissed skin rather loudly proclaimed her Varisian heritage.
"It's a pity the mirror can't tell us the whole truth. Especially for us." He says as he steps besides Tot. "You can never be sure how the people will react to what they see. Unfortunately, superstitions run deep in the minds of some of the people here. Probably not unlike other places you've been to. I just hope it doesn't prevent you from enjoying the festival." he gives the woman a small smile. "I don't know for how long you'll be staying, but if you ever want someone to talk to who you can be sure won't be bothered by who you are, feel free to come see me."
Tot nearly jumps out of her skin when Zorlen speaks to her. She looks up at him and for a moment, there's fear in her eyes. It's gone as quickly as it appears as she recognizes the wizard.
"S-sorry. Just startled," she says. "D-do you know of some place cheap I could get a bath and wash my clothes," she asks.
"It's okay, don't worry. I should probably be the one apologising - I didn't mean to startle you. As for your question, I would say the best place would be the inn - I was planning on going there first, actually, see if they still have rooms available, so we can go together, if you wish. I don't know the prices, though - never had to worry about lodging before."
"That might be troublesome," Tot says. Her coin purse is thin, and she's not sure how she's going to earn more coin, not without a bath and a new outfit.
"Well, I might be able to help with the clothes - I can try to get them clean with a bit of magic, if you want. Don't think I have any decent options for the bath, though..." Zorlen looks around, a bit lost and embarrassed as he ponders how best to help his travelling companion.
"It's a pity the mirror can't tell us the whole truth. Especially for us." He says as he steps besides Tot. "You can never be sure how the people will react to what they see. Unfortunately, superstitions run deep in the minds of some of the people here. Probably not unlike other places you've been to. I just hope it doesn't prevent you from enjoying the festival." he gives the woman a small smile. "I don't know for how long you'll be staying, but if you ever want someone to talk to who you can be sure won't be bothered by who you are, feel free to come see me."Tot nearly jumps out of her skin when Zorlen speaks to her. She looks up at him and for a moment, there's fear in her eyes. It's gone as quickly as it appears as she recognizes the wizard.
"S-sorry. Just startled," she says. "D-do you know of some place cheap I could get a bath and wash my clothes," she asks.
"I hazard the guess the town's inn should have a bath. If not, i can improvise, provided they have something that can contain a lot of water and a person."
She lets a spark cantrip run between her fingers, and refills her waterskin with a create water cantrip.
Firavel made his way past the mirror and saw a grim looking pale platinum-haired elf in dark clothes. Is this what they would see of me in the midst of this celebration? That's enough to drain the revelry from anyone... He sighs and thinks back to the child from before, excited about the prospects of fireworks and allowed his face to soften, becoming far less severe. Perhaps the rumors were wrong... and perhaps I should just partake in the festivities. His mouth finally twists up in a self-depreciating smirk before moving on. No longer appearing to be someone that would sap the fun out of a party, just an unassuming elf, amused at his surroundings.
Kemras touches his own pouch at the mention of lodgings. I'll need to look into that myself. At least I've still got some of the last bits of funding. I'll need to look into work sooner rather than later, if I don't find some means of earning it back.
The half-elf chews his lower lip. "Well, I'm sure we can find something to keep us cleaned up and warm." He says finally. "Failing all else, there's always the rivers." His lips quirk upwards - he's clearly not entirely serious.
Tot's lips quirk at Kemras' joking suggestions that they could bathe in the river. She'd done that many times, and while she could certainly make do, she'd much rather have a hot bath and at least a clean outfit if not an entirely new one. She turns to Zorlen and Audra and bows her head to them.
"Thank you for your kind offers," she says. "I will pay you back if I take you up on them." she raises her head and looks at Zorlen more directly. "Do you mind leading the way," she asks since he seems to be the most knowledgeable about Sandpoint's accommodations.
He hadn't realised he had been dawdling but somehow Cirandiu finds himself near enough at the back as the caravan rolls into town. He grins to himself at the sign but doesn't bother looking in the mirror. His appearance isn't likely to be particularly affected by the weather, given his hair and beard could hardly be called meticulously groomed. Nor is gazing at his reflection going to make his scar disappear or radically alter his handsome visage. He hears an echo of Nem's voice in his head: 'Some people have all the luck' and his grin widens. Yes, he agrees, they certainly do.
Sandpoint, then: not home - that's the road, or perhaps the Greyfeather Academy - but at least a home from home. Cir had always had a good welcome in the coastal community and it was always a favourite waystop of his. Old friends to catch up with for sure, beyond the one he'd already bumped into on the journey, and potentially new ones to make. Certainly the travellers heading to the festival were an eclectic bunch, though to his mind that simply means more interesting stories to tell. With that thought in mind, he hustles to catch up with them.
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Amaryllis hums as she listens to the others talk about others' perceptions of them - something she could relate to, though chose to remain quiet on for now - and discussed seeking out accommodations, "Honestly, I'm simply looking forward to having someplace I can set my things down without..." She pauses for a moment, thinking over her words, [b]"... As much worry of them getting nicked in the night." She muses with a playful laugh, "And with the festival going on I should be able to draw a decent enough crowd to afford to indulge in at least a little bit of luxury." She adjusted her heavy bag as she said this, clearly looking forward to getting settled for a bit.
As she glanced back to call Cir to hurry up, she caught a glimpse of the grin on his face; seemingly contagious as one spread over her own lips as she hung back for a moment to let him catch up, "Adding a bit of Arshea worship to your routine now, are we?" She gave a teasing jab at the perceived vanity.
Cir smooths down his tangled silvery hair, lifts his chin and tilts his head from side to side in a mock preening manner. ”What, pray tell, are you insinuating, Ama?” he asks smilingly. ”Both Pulura and Nem are secure in my heart even if I was, though I don’t think either of us have any real need to be liberated from repression.” He raises an eyebrow. ”Unless your dancing has become a lot more stiff and strait-laced of late? Please tell me you haven’t donned the white of a Kalistocrat?” Cir can barely get the question out with a straight face, such is the absurdity of the proud Varisian woman joining that particular cult.
Cir smooths down his tangled silvery hair, lifts his chin and tilts his head from side to side in a mock preening manner. ”What, pray tell, are you insinuating, Ama?” he asks smilingly. ”Both Pulura and Nem are secure in my heart even if I was, though I don’t think either of us have any real need to be liberated from repression.” He raises an eyebrow. ”Unless your dancing has become a lot more stiff and strait-laced of late? Please tell me you haven’t donned the white of a Kalistocrat?” Cir can barely get the question out with a straight face, such is the absurdity of the proud Varisian woman joining that particular cult.
But with a completely straight face from not knowing, Audra asks Cir then...
"And what would that be? An aristocrat follower of Calistria?"
Kemras looks curiously at the two Varisians. "Arshea?" He asks, always eager to expand his knowledge. "I assume that's an empyreal lord, but I've never heard the name."
Although he is slightly surprised that others would join in on the pair’s good-natured banter, Cir adapts to the situation and adopts a less playful tone. ”Good questions.” The more the merrier is his general feeling towards conversation outside of obviously private affairs and he’s always happy to share learning where he can. This topic is very much in his wheelhouse so he addresses the questions in turn.
”A reasonable guess,” he replies to Audra, ”but not quite. A kalistocrat is a follower of the prophecies of Kalistrade. Big in Druma, mostly. Pursuit of wealth is at the heart of it, as you might expect given that. They have very particular rules about, well, pretty much everything as I understand it.” He scratches his beard. ”You might call it an acquired taste but I can’t deny that those I’ve met have not seemed short of coin so perhaps there’s something in it.”
To Kemras he says, ”You assume correctly. And funnily enough there’s actually some overlap with Calistria here. Less of the vengeance aspect but pleasures of the flesh plus physical beauty and personal liberation and expression are their concerns. Do you have much knowledge of the Empyreal Lords?” Cir asks, always interested in what others may know of them.
Tot listens with one ear while she waits for Zorlen's answer. Hearing about Arshea causes her to shrink into her cloak, however, partly to hide a slight blush and mostly to hide the pained expression that crosses her face as she wonders how many of the gods she'd never been told about valued physical beauty. That was something she is certain no one would ever accuse her of possessing, unlike Audra and Amaryllis.
"Hmmhmm, well you certainly seemed rather pleased with what you saw in the mirror." She hummed before rolling her eyes at the accusation of Kalistocracy, "I assure you, if I had I'd be the worst that ever lived." She joked, making an exaggerated to gesture to her strikingly red attire and somewhat gaudy jewelry.
She then nods to Kemras as Cir answers his query, "Cir's got the long and short of it, though my knowledge of her and her followers is largely second hand rumors and the like. I've heard they have a tendency to spend a good deal of time preening in the mirror - among other things- however... And that's coming from me." She snickers a bit, preemptively intercepting any jabs at her meticulous grooming routine whenever she had to get ready for a show, "Personally, my faith in the Dawnflower has served me well enough so far, even if I'm not her strictest adherent, so I'd be a fool to turn away now."
When Amaryllis says she's a Sarenrite, Tot's mind goes completely blank for a moment. She's not seeing Sandpoint, but a camp years and miles way where followers of the Dawnflower were talking about their faith and their hopes before being mercilessly slaughtered. When she comes back to reality from her memories, Tot sees the ground rushing up to meet her after tripping over her own feet.
"Ooooow," she groans after the hard landing on her face.
”Believe it or not, I wasn’t actually looking in the mirror - I’m pleased enough not to have to bother with that,” jests Cir. ”And you scrub up more than fine too,” he says more seriously, laying a hand on his friend’s arm. ”Faith is not a competition,” he says more seriously. ”When it comes down to it all that matters is what exists between you and your patron, not what anyone else does.”
He’s about to continue the sermon but is interrupted by the sight of Tot seeming to lose her balance and falling on her face. Cir rushes over and offers her a hand to help her up.
When Amaryllis says she's a Sarenrite, Tot's mind goes completely blank for a moment. She's not seeing Sandpoint, but a camp years and miles way where followers of the Dawnflower were talking about their faith and their hopes before being mercilessly slaughtered. When she comes back to reality from her memories, Tot sees the ground rushing up to meet her after tripping over her own feet.
"Ooooow," she groans after the hard landing on her face.
Audra sees Titania tripping, but is too late to grab her shoulder and prevent her from falling. As Cir rushes over, Audra already walking near Titania, has a hand stretched out to help the other one back up.
So now there's two hands to help her up.
Tot starts to pick herself up off the ground when she sees that both Audra and Cirandiu have offered her a hand. She starts to reach out for them, but pulls her hand back and stands on her own.
"Sorry," she mutters to no one in particular. "Just tripped."
"Thank you for your kind offers," she says. "I will pay you back if I take you up on them." she raises her head and looks at Zorlen more directly. "Do you mind leading the way," she asks since he seems to be the most knowledgeable about Sandpoint's accommodations.
"Not at all, I'll take us all there" Zorlen adds with a smile as he takes point and starts leading the group down the road towarhe Rusty Dragon inn, only half following the religious conversation behind him, with his focus more on the towm itself and pinpointing what had changed in the last five years, and what stayed the same.
The sudden interruption in the conversation has him looking back, however, and he rushes near Tot as well when he sees what happened.
"Are you alright?" he asks worriedly as the small woman is getting up.
Miraculously, Tot seems to have avoided skinning up her face and hands, having landed in some grass instead of hardpacked earth and rock.
"'M fine," she mumbles, belatedly turning red-faced in embarrassment as what just happened starts to sink in.
I just hope Amaryllis doesn't talk to me for a bit, she thinks to herself as she pulls her cloak's hood as low as she can to try hiding her blush.
Kemras starts as Tot falls to the ground, hand half-outstretched before the hapless tiefling hits the ground. Ouch. He examines her for a moment, stepping forwards to investigate her injuries more closely, then nods. She's fine... but embarrassed. Poor girl.
Stepping back, he offers her a wry smile. "My father used to tell me 'fall down six times, stand up seven.' It doesn't make much sense, but it's got the right spirit."
Kemras looks back to the priest now. "Interesting. And no, not a lot. My time in Magnimar was not spent in study of the celestial hosts... though I did encounter cultists of Ng once." He chuckles. "Not that they're an Empyreal Lord, just... a strange being of worship."
Firavel follows along in silence as the group heads towards the town's inn, shaking his head at the comparison of Calistria to some odd cult and a minor divine being. I suppose there are many interpretations of the Savored Sting... I've noticed humans tend to focus on her more... hedonistic aspects. My singular focus is on her vengeance aspect... He brings himself back to the present, refusing to plumb the depths of his memories that brought him to this point.
"What did you study in Magnimar?" he asked of Kemras. "I've been known to frequent the city's libraries on occasion, myself."
Careful now. He reminded himself. Let's not go too far here.
"Nothing formal." Kemras says swiftly, wincing inwardly. I hope Uncle Zandu's recovered... "I studied some ancient history, mostly. Picked up a few tricks here and there, learned to fight a bit, and took some classes about relics and historical magic."
Tot nods after Kemras gives out his father's advice, though she wonders why he'd say something that didn't make sense to him unless he was trying to figure out its meaning.
The conversation about gods, empyreal lords, and more has the poor girl's head reelin, and she starts to wonder if this is really better than what she'd been dealing with before. The only faith she even knew a little about that the others follow or were discussing was Sarenrae's, and her first brush with the Dawnflower's followers had not ended well.
What do I do now? There's so much I don't know, even after a year. Where do I start?
The caravan master waits patiently for everyone to use the mirror, but when the last turns away, he begins to shout and entreat, directing wagons to enter the town and head to various locations.
Four wagons however remain on the road, and Kerrig strides to the young man waiting by the lead wagon. Leaning in he shares a few words , then embraces his son then turns leaving the new caravan master to continue the journey Northward.
As he walks back, none can miss the pride that shines in his eyes.
The caravan disperses into the town, and as the group follows Zorlen down Market Street, you can see that all of the shops, including your destination the Rusty Dragon have put out shingles with a similar message: Closed for the Festival.
Released from their duties, if they had any, the children of the caravan come screaming and running down the street, grabbing hold of your hands and fingers and tunic and pulling you all along Market Street to the Market itself...all of the vendors also closed.
There are the occasional shouted greetings as both Criandiu and Saiya are recognized, Zorlen received a few curious glances as some seem to sort of reccognize him. Tot recieved a few sideways glances as does Audra, but most seem more interested in getting to the Festival than examining the newcomers in any detail.
With a swirl of screaming and yelling bodies, the children guide you onto Festival street, joining other latecomers in a growing stream of people headed to the Festival. Turning onto High Street, one can see a gathering of people spilling out from the Festival grounds.
Soon the children navigate themselves and yourselves into the Festival proper...the sizable turnout indicative of the importance of this moment for the citizens of this quaint town.
On your journey here, the caravaners , and a few of your fellow travellers, had related a series of events from five years ago, referred to as “the Late Unpleasantness”, when a seemingly harmless eccentric named Jarvis Stoot snapped, embarking on a killing spree that would have been shocking and unsettling in Magnimar, and was catastrophic in sleepy Sandpoint.
Nearly two dozen people were stalked and killed before ‘Chopper’ died resisting arrest. His body had barely cooled before the townspeople had to deal with another tragedy: an accidental fire that destroyed the northernmost quarter of town - starting with the cathedral, where beloved priest Ezakien Tobyn, his daughter Nualia, and several acolytes perished.
For five years, the faithful of Sandpoint have attended church in smaller wooden structures hastily rebuilt after the fire, and while their new pastor, Father Zantus, was helpful, kind, and wise, it just wasn’t the same. Now, the new stone cathedral is finally done. All that remains is for the Swallowtail Festival to renew the site’s blessings from the gods.
It is now the first day of fall, and the entire population is gathered in front of the main doors on the western side of the building. Flanking those doors, tall stained glass windows honor Shelyn and Gozreh, whose worshippers share the western chapel. Several merchant tents feature food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs. Some of the detritus of construction still lies scattered about, but most of the old scaffolding and waste wood have been repurposed in the construction of the high dais in the southeastern corner of the open square in front of the church. Welcome speeches should begin soon, and in four chairs on the dais can be seen a slender middle-aged woman with short auburn hair, a burly, bald Shoanti man in the uniform of the town Guard, a flamboyant man whose bright clothing is at the height of Magnimar fashion, and, of course, a pleasant-looking cleric whose fine linen robes are elaborately and tastefully embroidered in a repeating pattern of blue butterflies. The first of these individuals stands at half-past eleven, and the crowd quiets.
"It is so delightful to see so many faces here today, both new and familiar," she begins. "To those of you from out of town, I am Kendra Deverin, mayor of Sandpoint, and you are most welcome!"
She pauses as the crowd shouts its agreement.
"To those who already know me, I'm glad you could all spare a day to celebrate. I'm sure only Rovansky, our tanner, is too busy to - oh look! Friends, here in the first row, Larz is here!"
Loud laughter ripples through the crowd, especially among those who sit close enough to the tanner to see his unamused expression.
"Anyway, I can smell the lunch our tavern keepers are cooking already. A round of applause to Ameiko, Garridan, Cracktooth, and Jargie! I'm sure Father Zantus can spare an extra prayer that they don't burn anything before we get to eat it."
More cheering erupts: the aromas drifting over the crowd are glorious.
"Now, since you have three more of us to stand there through, I'm going to sit down. No business today! This is my favorite time of year!"
She allows the crowd to cheer again before saying "Without further ado, let me welcome our dutiful Sheriff, Belor Hemlock to the stage!
She turns to go sit, and the burly Shoanti man takes her place.
After a few uncomfortable moments, he clears his throat and speaks loudly, "Thank you, Mayor. First off, let us have a moment of silence.
Let us remember the memories of those friends and family members who lost their lives in the tragic blaze that made our new cathedral necessary.
Cherish those memories and may the blessings of our Gods see them happy and well in the Afterlife. "
He bows his head, and most of those gathered do likewise.
After a minute of so, as there are some noises of the crowd getting restless, he raises his head, "Over the next three days all instances of wrong-doing will be dealt with swiftly and to the fullest extent of the law. No exceptions. As the sheriff of Sandpoint, I, Belor Hemlock, would also like to welcome everyone to enjoy
themselves today, and you may or may not be aware of the planned bonfire at the beach tonight... it looks to be a promising festival. Do trust that I will be monitoring the level of safe conduct late into the evening. I am trusting our fun will lean to the side of caution. If you are a militia member, remember where your duties lay, and help Sandpoint keep the peace. Thank you."
He pauses, as if just remembering somethign, "Oh, and here is Cyrdak Drokkus!" he says unenthusiacitally.
A muted round of applause follows the Sherrif as he departs the stage.
The fashionable man then takes the stage, twirling dramatically, then delivering a theatrical bow before adopting an even more theatrical pose, "Well, thank you Sheriff for that uplifting oratory. Don't worry, I doubt there will be any fun for you to stress over today. If things get out of hand you can ask Ameiko to take the stage and put us all to sleep with one of her stories.
He gets an appreciative laugh at his jest, before smiling widely and continuing, "We can all agree, this is our time to celebrate! I know this town has been through some hard times, but we don't lay down easily. Look at what we've accomplished!"
he pauses as more cheers rise from the crowd, "And I'm telling you, they spared no expense with this place. Father Zantus' chamber pot? It's solid gold and comes with a singing choir standing nearby. It's no doubt our neighbors and nobles put a pretty copper into the construction of this joint. And to think they wanted nothing in return, but to enlighten us and our taxes for many lifetimes to come.
But worry not about your coinpurse, I've heard from father himself that the gods are getting their gold together to help pay for this place. But don't take it from me, let me hand the stage off to the man who knows in charge here. 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 and continuing throughout the next two weeks at the Theater. Come see it, it will be fabulous! And now join me in a bit of applause for his holiness himself, Father Zantus! "
His soliloqy received a few more titters and chuckles, but by the end he's more or less lost the crowd. But the crowd does erupt in cheers and applause for the holy man as he ascended the stage.
His voice even and solemn, the priest speaks, "Today ushers in a new season, many would call this season Autumn. The season which makes summer give way to winter, bring cool air and brightly colored trees to the canvas of the world. But others would refer to this season as Fall...and there is good reason for that. For today also marks the day that Desna fell from the heavens after doing battle with Lamashtu.
Lamashtu gloated as she began to ransack Desna’s palace, laughing all the way as her body fell into the sea below. Though all the world wept for the loss of the goddess, and of dreams, it is said that she survived, wounded, washed up on the rocks of the sea. She was discovered there, on the rocks, by a blind orphan, forgotten and cast aside by all the world. Though the orphan
knew not of who she had discovered and could do little for the wounded goddess, she still stayed there by her side, holding a vigil on the beach, praying and tending to her as best she could. And though she tired and knew that the goddess had little chance to recover, she remained all throughout the night and into the week, praying and keeping faith.
And eventually, Desna did recover, though all the world thought her lost; and to thank the child who had prayed for her health, she transformed her into an immortal butterfly to forever remain with her in her palace in the heavens
This story reminds us that tragedy is just a setback, not an end. Though our place of worship was destroyed, and our previous priest, Father Tobyn, perished in the flame, we have persevered as Desna would desire, and built anew. Today is our day of new beginnings. Our day of ascension. Friends of Sandpoint, I declare the Swallowtail Festival officially underway!"
With that, several of the priest’s acolytes throw off the canvas of a nearby wagon, revealing a thousand swallowtail butterflies...the Children of Desna.
The butterflies flutter in every direction, eager children chasing them in a futile attempt to catch one.
A group of musicians strike up a jaunty tune at one end of the festival square, the people nearby begin to dance. People mill about, chatting, eating or just watching the children scurry here and there, still chasing the released butterflies...but never quite manageing to catch them.
One common topic of conversation that is overheard is speculation of why the Kaijistui patriarch Lonjiku didn't make an apparance. The explanation was a sudden illness, but his usual dislike of frivolity and festivals makes this explanation unlikely.
Rusty Dragon , Ameiko Kaijistsu : curry spice salmon and winterdrop mead
Hagfish , Jargie Quinn : lobster chowder with a thick dark stout
Cracktooth Tavern , JESK "CRACKTDDTH" BERINNI : steaming chicken pot pie with a potent locally made root beer
The White Deer, Garridan Viskalai : peppercord vension and a fine local pale ale
Roll the indicated attribute or skill , if you beat a 16...you win! Nothing but bragging rights, unfortunately! :)
Heavy junk throw (STR, Athletics)
Axe tossing (STR, DEX)
Tug of War (STR, Athletics)
Rope walk (DEX, Acrobatics)
Wall climb ( STR, DEX )
The dignitaries mentioned are all still by the stage talking with the citizens, so approaching them and talking with them is possible.
They are :
Kendra Deverin, the mayor
Belor Hemlock, the sheriff
Cyrdak Drokkus, theatre owner
Father Zantus, cleric of Desna
It doesn't take someone skilled at reading people to notice that Tot's not at all comfortable with being dragged along, but she can't find the courage to speak up for herself either. She's swept up in the cavalcade of caravaneers, guards, and children without really ever knowing what was going on, save that the townsfolk appear to be eyeing her with the same suspicion, real or imagined, that she'd grown used to over the years.
The speeches don't get much of a reaction from her, being an outsider to the town. At least they don't until she hears Father Zantus speak and the release of the butterflies. She is in awe as they take wing. Something about the story or the scene of thousands of colorful wings spiraling up in a beautiful, chaotic display touches her soul and she doesn't even realize she's crying until someone asks if she's alright. She scrubs away the tears and assures them that she is before noticing everyone lining up for lunch.
She dithers a bit, not just because the food does smell delicious, but because she wanted to ask them if they'd be willing to hire her. After a few minutes when most of the townspeople are in line, she picks the one for Jargie's lobster chowder. She tries not to think about how she looks, the fresh smudges of dirt and grass she hadn't been able to scrub off her face, the clothes that were just one step above rags, nor that she looks like a vagrant mercenary.
She isn't successful, and by the time she's at the front of the line, she pulls out her coin purse to pay for the meal and resigns herself to sleeping wherever she can find a nook that's out of the weather to curl up in.
"H-H-How m-much," she asks as she keeps her gaze on her fingers as they fumble with the ties.
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As Tot steps up, the man at the table, ably balancing on one whole leg and another ending in a wooden peg, sets down a wooden bowl filled to the brim with steaming lobster chowder.
"Th'r ya go!" he exclaims with a smile, looking up and seeing Tot's state. His smile fades a bit as he takes in her tear streaked face and tattered clothes. With a look of compassion, he holds his hand up, "No charge, darl'n. All o' the food's fer free, fer ev'ry one."
"Here fill yer belly , an' make sure you give the odders a try!" he says, his original smile returning, as he pushes a flagon of his stout towards Tot as well.
Tot's face turns red as Jargie turns down the money before telling her that all of the food's free.
"Th-thank you, sir. I-I will," she mutters before taking the bowl and the flagon with her as she scurries off. She does try and give the kind man a smile before she goes.
She hasn't realized how hungry she is until she sits down and starts eating. She savors the soup, wishing she had some fresh bread to go with it, but it's the stout that really fills her up. With a full belly and the afternoon sun shining down through the boughs of the tree she'd settled under, she feels her eyelids growing heavy. A nap sounds nice and her tail uncoils from around her leg as she starts to give into the temptation.
But what is she going to do about tomorrow?
The question brings back the tension she'd shed as she ate and enjoyed the her spot under the tree. She curls up and hugs her knees with both arms and tail as she thinks about what her next step needs to be. She doesn't want to be a caravan guard the rest of her life, but her only other skill besides fighting is cooking. Logically, that means that the four serving lunch are the best people to ask for work.
The man serving the lobster chowder is kind, but she isn't sure she can face him again. She thinks about asking the one serving peppercorn venison, but one look at him has her thinking that he probably won't let her finish before turning her down. The one she's heard people calling Cracktooth looks intimidating, but everyone he talks to seems to like him. The last person, a young woman with exotic features, Tien if her lessons on foreign peoples haven't led her astray, seems the most approachable, but she's also pretty. Pretty and charismatic people, in her experience, tended to be some of the hardest people to deal with.
In some ways, being a soldier is easier than what she is dealing with now. She never had to worry about making decisions like this a year ago. House Thrune had wanted weapons, not people who could think for themselves outside of combat. If she is going to have a roof over her head and food in her belly tomorrow, she needs to figure out what to do today.
Tot takes in a deep breath and stands up. She gathers her gear and turns to face the tents where the food had been served with their much reduced lines. Before she can take a step, however, she freezes. Standing in the shade of the tree she sat under, she silently panics. How is she going to ask any of them? Why would anyone want to hire on a scruffy, dirty, tiefling girl?
Before she can decide that this was a terrible idea and slink off somewhere, a butterfly with brilliant red and black wings flutters in front of her. It circles her, drawing her attention with it as she falls for its mesmerizing dance. After she's turned a circle trying to keep the butterfly in sight, she sees the butterfly fly off a little ways before coming back. Her focus entirely on the butterfly, Tot follows it as it flies away from her again. She marvels at how it dances on the wind as it leads her through the crowd and towards the tents. She doesn't notice, however, until the butterfly zips to one side suddenly, and Tot's eyes meet the young Tien woman's that had been serving the curried salmon.
Her eyes widen as her mouth moves without any sound coming out. She tries to find the butterfly that she'd been following, but it is gone. Her hands wring the straps of her pack as her mind scrambles for something, anything to say and not make this more awkward.
"I-I-I-I c-c-can cook!" she screams in her head as she blurts out the first coherent sentence she can think of. "I-I-I m-mean I'm l-looking for a job. I-I-I can c-cook or clean or... or..." Her words trail off as she looks away. She's certain that after a first impression like that, looking like she does, the woman-- Amay-something-- is going to turn down her offer.
What do I do now?! Tot's tail coils and writhes around like a serpent on a bed of coals as the blush returns with a vengeance.
Bemused, Firavel allowed himself to be taken along the streets of the town by the children, wistful at their innocence, something he had lost long ago. As they dragged him and the others into the Festival proper, he looked around at the set up, decor and gathering crowd. It was clear that there were no defensive structures or positions set up, not even something hidden to prevent detracting from the festival. Firavel's informant was either wildly incorrect or having a laugh at his expense. That, and perhaps also trying to get me to relax. She's always trying to get me to take a vacation from my singular focus... perhaps she forced the issue... The elf sighed and joined the crowd to listen to the speeches, not following the nuances very well, with only the tale of some unpleasantness from a few years back as background. Nonetheless, he followed the crowd cues to determine his own, albeit still muted, responses.
After the speeches and the crowd began to disperse to participate in the festivities, Firavel stood for a moment, pondering his next move. If there had been any sign of a defensive posturing, he likely would have gone to talk to the sheriff. Given he was likely misled, with good intentions, he decided that he may as well have a proper meal after the long, indirect trip from Magnimar. Most of the options on offer seemed like they would be rather heavy for his tastes, so he turned and ambled slowly towards the location where the curried salmon was being served watching the children chase the butterflies and the festival-goers chat amiably with each other.
Firavel stops abruptly as the small tiefling that had been with the caravan cuts across his path, chasing a butterfly and ending up in front of the woman serving the salmon. Firavel shrugs and smiles to himself as he wait's his turn in silence, only raising a surprised eyebrow when he hears the girl asking for a job.
Zorlen can't help but smile as the children lead him and the others through town towards the festival.
Not a care for my own appearance, or Tot's, or Audrea's. The people could learn quite a bit from these children. I wonder if they even realise. Either way, perhaps this is a sign that things really will change with time.
He listens attentively to the speeches, even though nothing really surprises him with what he knows of the speechers. The exception is, of course, Father Zantus's, but more from the way it affects him, as his speech grips Zorlen in a way he wasn't expecting - he didn't realise how much he missed his sermons, after putting his religious life behind him after that tragedy all those years ago. And the Swallowtail release itself was always a beautiful moment to behold.
As people start making their way to the stalls, Zorlen looks to the stage, unsure of what to do. Reluctantly, he approaches Father Zantus, somewhat afraid of what the man may think of him after he left town so suddenly.
"Greetings Father." He pauses, waiting to see of the man recognizes him after all this time. "I... I had almost forgotten how meaningful your speeches could be..." He looks nervously to the side and then to his feet, finding it hard to hold the man's gaze. "I'm... I'm sorry I took off all those years ago instead of helping you rebuild... I just... I don't think I would've been able to stay after what happened."
"I-I-I-I c-c-can cook!" she screams in her head as she blurts out the first coherent sentence she can think of. "I-I-I m-mean I'm l-looking for a job. I-I-I can c-cook or clean or... or..." Her words trail off as she looks away. She's certain that after a first impression like that, looking like she does, the woman-- Amay-something-- is going to turn down her offer.
One of Ameiko's eyebrows pops up in interest at Tot's timid request. The Tian woman's eyes quickly move over Tot, noting the general dishevelement and ill-fitting nature of her clothes. Her eyes finish by looking Tot directly in her own eyes, assessing...a thoughtful look that says Yeah, I've seen some things in my day...but what , my dear, have you seen? .
Pushing the plate of salmon and a glass of mead towards Tot, Ameiko smiles gently and says in her accented Common, "Eat, try to enjoy yourself. Come by the Rusty Dragon tomorrow morning and we'll talk."
The still smiling, she gently shoos Tot along, there's quite a long line of festival goers waiting to get at her salmon!
Zorlen can't help but smile as the children lead him and the others through town towards the festival.
Not a care for my own appearance, or Tot's, or Audrea's. The people could learn quite a bit from these children. I wonder if they even realise. Either way, perhaps this is a sign that things really will change with time.
He listens attentively to the speeches, even though nothing really surprises him with what he knows of the speechers. The exception is, of course, Father Zantus's, but more from the way it affects him, as his speech grips Zorlen in a way he wasn't expecting - he didn't realise how much he missed his sermons, after putting his religious life behind him after that tragedy all those years ago. And the Swallowtail release itself was always a beautiful moment to behold.
As people start making their way to the stalls, Zorlen looks to the stage, unsure of what to do. Reluctantly, he approaches Father Zantus, somewhat afraid of what the man may think of him after he left town so suddenly.
"Greetings Father." He pauses, waiting to see of the man recognizes him after all this time. "I... I had almost forgotten how meaningful your speeches could be..." He looks nervously to the side and then to his feet, finding it hard to hold the man's gaze. "I'm... I'm sorry I took off all those years ago instead of helping you rebuild... I just... I don't think I would've been able to stay after what happened."
Father Zantus frowns for a second as he scans Zorlen's face and figure, before he smiles and pulls Zorlen into a tight hug, "Ah, Zorlen, my boy! It brightens my already bright day to see you again! " he exclaims, holding Zorlen out at arm's length.
He tuts at Zorlen's apology, "We all find our way with Desna's guidance. Your path seems to have suited you well enough...enough to have brought you back to your home on such an auspicious day!"
With a hand on your elbow, Father Zantus guide you to a nearby bench, "Please, tell me of your life these last 5 years..."
Though you're pleased to see Father Zantus, when he guides you to the bench you can't help but feel annoyed, a part of you thinking Who does the old man thing he is to be guiding me about like an invalid !?
Audra hadn't much planned for anything in particular. Drawing slightly less children's attention than the appearances of Titania and Zorlen do, she is nonetheless forced to deflect questions about why her hair is blueish.
She hadn't much interest to speak to one of the prominent figures yet, instead looked for the lunch most appealing to her.
Reminiscing times she spent with her adoptive siblings, who current day look way older than she does, she decides on the vension.
She sits down, having a good one after all that walking.
But the still she pauses briefly, as the situation takes a last swing at her. She hadn't seen any of her family perish at the hands of the mercenaries, but they might have after the moment they were forced to split up.
Dismissing the gloomy thought from her mind, she finishes the meal, and decides to take a stroll around town.
Kemras wanders the festival, surveying the town with a careful eye. I've heard there's a scholar here... Something with a 'Q', maybe? I wonder if he's out and about? There's plenty I'd like to ask him, and getting in a good first impression's invaluable.
Though he searches long and hard, he doesn't find any sign of who he's looking for. Giving up, he instead looks for food, and finds the Rusty Dragon's offering - where he also sees Tot and the Tien woman she's speaking to. Hm. He rubs his chin. Well, I'll see how it tastes, at least.
The spice makes his eyes widen, and he chokes back a cough. Well, that's... stronger than I expected.
Amaryllis smiled as the swarm of children gathered around the group, giving a dramatic twirl as she weave through them towards their destination... Though the familiar talk of the killing spree and fire that followed dampened her spirits a bit, a flicker of a frown crossing her face before catching herself, instead turning her attention to shepherding the children along and distracting them from such depressing topics.
Arriving at the cathedral eased her mood somewhat, however. She remembered construction had barely begun on it when she was through town last, and now seeing it towering over them as it was was a reassuring sign that the town was healing. She bowed her head through the moment of silence, offering a quiet prayer, having lost a couple passing acquaintances of her own in both tragedies.
The whole opening sequence to the festival was a bit of an emotional roller coaster, bouncing from the Sherrif's stern speech, to a moment of excitement for the days events back to a more somber note with the tale of what the festival was celebrating, only for the tone to rise once more as the butterflies were released. Even having attended this event many times in the past, there was an almost exhausting element to the whole affair; still she couldn't help but take her time as she followed the wonderful scent of cooked food, as much dancing in time with the music that began to fill the air as she was walking.
"Perhaps some food and a familiar face will do me good." She mused to herself, making her way to Ameiko's stall... Just in time to catch Tot's stammered request for work; a sight that brought back memories of her early days alone before being taken in by the missionaries... Still she kept her expression steady, fighting back a wistful smile lest she provoke another awkward moment like she had during the talk at camp. Instead she simply gave the tiefling a bit of space, standing to one side as she was shooed off before approaching the stall proper.
"Eventful day as usual huh? Been on any new adventures, or has the new tavern been keeping you busy?" She finally spoke up once she found her opening, giving the Tian woman a friendly smile, and a perhaps overly familiar greeting.
Tot nods as she takes the food, too embarrassed to speak. She needs a place to stay for the night, but all she can squeak out is a thank you before she scurries off to the same tree she'd enjoyed Jargie's chowder under. The salmon proves just as delicious. The complex blend of spices has the young tiefling woman busy trying to sort out all of the flavors as she eats.
At first she's not sure what to make of the mead, though it goes well with the salmon. After the first few sips, though, she's found that she loves the sweetness of it far more than she has ever liked the bitterness of the beers she'd been allowed to drink back when she was in training.
She finishes the salmon and the mead and lays down in the shade. For the first time since she ran away, she feels full, and even though she still doesn't have a job secured she feels strange, buoyant, light, happy? Does she feel happy or even hopeful? The woman, Ameiko she'd heard as she on her way back to the tree, hadn't rejected her and even seems willing to help her.
Then again, she might be a little drunk after both the stout and the mead. maybe that is what is making her feel so light. She pushes the thought aside as unimportant and smiles as a familiar red and black butterfly settles on her knee.
"Thank you, my little friend. I don't think I would have had the courage to do that if not for you," she tells it softly. The butterfly spreads its wings once as if nodding, then takes to the air.
Tot lays down and closes her eyes as the dappled sunlight keeps her warm in the shade. Maybe she could learn more about the gods these people worship. Maybe then she'll learn why they are so much kinder to her than her own family. The thought of two kind people giving her food and encouragement, even if they didn't realize it, brings a smile to her face again as she drifts off into a nap.
Firavel watches in silence as the small tiefling makes her request of the Tian woman who handled the poor girl with kindness and hope and sends her on her way with a plate of food and a drink.
"That was kind of you," he said, indicating the departing girl as he accepted a plate of curried salmon. "She came in on the same caravan as I. I hope she finds what she's looking for with you," he finishes with a smile and a nod as he turned and moved away to allow the next festival goers in line to partake of the food. Apparently another traveler in the caravan, this one apparently old friend of the Tian woman, began to chat with her as Firavel started to wander off with his food.
He walked a few steps with the dish in his hand, and tasted the food as he walked. He paused, his eyes opened wide, as he tasted the wonderful flavors. Something he had not expected in a small town like this. He turned back to the Tian woman, raising the plate. "My compliments to the chef! This is delicious!"
Kemras nods his agreement with Firavel. "She seems very shy... not surprising, really. I suspect she's from Cheliax proper, and that's not a nice place for anyone to live, let alone a tiefling." However intriguingly attractive I might find them. He pauses. Huh. I guess I am attracted to her, after a fashion. Interesting. He's not sure what he'll do with that information, but there it is. A thought for later, I suppose.
Shaking his head, he glances at the other two with whom he'd travelled here. "You're right in that. Spicier than I was expecting, though."
Doing his best to mask his sudden feelings of annoyance, Zorlen stops walking along towards the bench and gestures instead towards the food stalls. "I would be happy to tell you about my path these last years. But maybe we could talk over lunch?" His reply is cordial, with just the slight bit of a seemingly unconscious emphasis that the path was of his own choosing, and no one else. He frowns for a swift moment as he realises what he said, and tries to shrug it off with a smile as he leads the priest towards the stalls.
"Any option you favor? Ameiko's salmon seems great, but so do the others, too."
"As for my story" Zorlen starts as they're waiting in line "I've been travelling a fair bit around the continent. Learning about magic, mostly, from whatever source I can. Practice, books, scrolls, scholars, travelling magicians, ancient ruins. Learned a good bit about ancient Thassilonian as well, and their unique approach to magic." he lets out a small chuckle. "Mr Quink would love to hear about it, I'm sure."
The stream of people seems only to be going in one direction and Cir is happy enough to be swept up and pulled towards the festival. He waves and shouts greetings in return to a few friendly faces before settling in for the speeches. They're something of a mixed bag in terms of tone but the musical finale with the butterflies is more than worth the wait and he whistles loudly and claps along with everyone else.
As the crowd disperses, or at least shifts in various directions, various tantalising aromas fill the air. Cir waves at Father Zantus in conversation with Zorlen but decides that there will be plenty of time for chat once he has a full belly. Although most of his companions have opted for the Rusty Dragon's offering, after perusing the various offerings he he instead chooses something different. He gives a friendly nod towards Ameiko as he passes - he knows the woman in as much as many travellers do given the magnetic pull the Rusty Dragon exerts over most visitors to Sandpoint - but Cir tends to stay at the White Deer. It might not be the bustling hub of its more famed competitor but that's the one his parents always stayed out when passing through town so he's known the Viskalais since he was knee high. The lure of finely-cooked meat and a refreshing local draught only seals the deal.
"Hello Garridan, old friend," he smiles. "Could you help a weary traveller out with some sustenance? I can feel my mouth watering just looking at this so it would be remiss of me not to have a tankard of ale as well." As he waits to be served, he looks at the lengthy queue. "Business is good, I trust? And everything else too?"
During the swallowtail release, Sara can be seen urging a group of children after the butterflies, laughing with them as they run through the streets. She leads them back to the cathedral a while later, before turning her attention to the food stalls.
She bites her lower lip as she takes a long look at the stalls, unsure of which one to try today. After pondering for a bit, her face lights up with an idea, and she takes out a coin, flipping it twice, before making her way towards Garridan's stall with a smile on her face.
"Hello, Garridan! Seems Desna wants me to have a taste of your venison today! Not that I'm complaining, mind! It seems delicious, as always! I can't stay and talk much, though. Duty calls, and all that. Plus, I don't want to keep your customers waiting!"
With her plate in hand, she looks around for a place to sit. Spotting a new face sitting by themselves, she heads on over.
"Hi! Can I sit down and eat with you for a bit?" She asks the stranger as she starts to sit down. "You came here for the festival right? Don't think I remember seeing your face before. Mind if I ask you where you're from? I love hearing all about other places outside Sandpoint, hoping to visit them one day."
Kemras waves the heat from his cheeks as another person - A local? - approaches him. He offers her a small smile and a nod of greeting as he tries to get the burning in his taste buds under control. Taking a deep breath, he replies. "I did, yes. I thought it would be a good chance to honor my patroness and to learn a bit. I'm Kemras, late of Magnimar, but originally of the open road." He touches his kapenia.
He looks at his food again, debating whether to take another bite, then decides against it. "You're a local, I see. I'd certainly be happy to swap some tales, but I've a question first. Do you happen to know if there's a scholar or sage here who specializes in history? I swear I heard one lives here, but I don't know that I ever caught their name."
"Oh, I don't think I'd have many tales to share, though, at least not enough for it to be a fair trade, if you've been travelling around with a caravan. You must have seen quite a few different places! I've only been to Magnimar a few times, and they were all short business trips with my dad. Didn't really get to see much of the city. Oh, but I'm getting ahead of myself, sorry!" Sara answers with a small chuckle.
"To answer your question, my best guess is that you're looking for old man Quink. He's spent quite a bit of his life studying engineering and history, or at least, that's what he says. Nowadays, he's pretty much focused on old ruins and the like - he lives right next to the Old Light, in fact." Sara points towards the northwestern part of town, towards an ancient, ruined tower.
"I'm sure he'd be happy to see you if you dropped by for a scholarly talk. Or I can point him out to you if I see him around the festival?" Sara looks around them to see if she spots Brodert Quink nearby, and then leans in and says in a hushed tone. "You might want to take what he says with a grain of salt, though. Lately, he's been going on and on about this wild theory that the Old Light wasn't a lighthouse, but some manner of weapon for war. Some kind of magic fire spewing tower. Crazy, right?"
Kemras chuckles, waving a hand dismissively. "Nonsense. Everyone has stories to share, even if they are ones passed on from others. Why, with the right questions, someone can learn more about themselves as they give their answers." He smiles.
"Quink, that was the name!" Kemras snaps his fingers, pleased with the information. "I have heard the name, but apparently my memory failed me." He sighs, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "I'm getting older, you see, and my mind's not what it used to be."
Refocusing, he scratches his chin. Engineering too, hm? I could afford to take a few lessons from him in that. More knowledge is always good. The archeologist glances in the direction of the lighthouse. That'll be the Old Light, then.
He makes a mental note to visit when possible, then returns his attention to the young woman before him. "I'll be sure to drop by, but if you do see him, I'd certainly appreciate you pointing him out to me." The revelation of Quink's strange theories causes one of Kemras' eyebrows to shoot upwards, and he looks again at the lighthouse. Taking his cue from her own murmur, he responds in kind. "I suppose it could be used against naval invaders, if that's the case... the ancients did command tremendous magics. Still," he shakes his head, "I'd have to ask for his evidence, because it seems unlikely on the surface."
He returns to a normal speaking tone before continuing. "Now, before we get into my stories, can I ask you what your name is?"
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"I never gave you my name before I just started talking, did I? I'm sorry. Guess I'm also forgetting things as I'm getting on in years! My manners, in this case!" She replies with a hearty laugh. "Name's Sara. Now, about those stories... I'm all ears." Sara smiles and looks to Kemras expectantly.