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1 Rova, 4702 Absalom Reckoning. Deep within the farthest reaches of a distant mountain range lies an ancient massif, one whose name is lost to history. As the sun sets on the long-forgotten spire, its dying light paints its silhouette red, as if nature itself still bears witness to the blood spilled on its slopes in horrific rites since time immemorial. At the very peak of the cyclopean mountain lies a place where the border between worlds is almost thin enough to see through, a place where aeons ago, humanity's hubris and the unknowable motives of creatures beyond mortal understanding collided to form a pinpoint tear in the fabric of reality. In the valley below, the humans who once called this inhospitable home had long ago created a city of gold and jewels, its splendor nevertheless a pale imitation of the incomprehensible spires glimpsed through the tear in the world. Over the years, the strange forces at play in the skies above the city have gradually loosened the valley's hold on reality, and time and space have grown fickle as the valley is stretched, pulled between the world of Golarion and an unknowable place beyond.
Long have the towers of this lost city lain empty, inhabited only by the ghosts of ages past... but now, something stirs amid the ruins. In the city's depths, a probing mortal once again meets the cold inhumanity of the realms beyond, and in the darkness of the city between worlds, ancient magic flares to life once more, heralding the return of an evil that casts long shadows over the entire continent of Avistan. Across the realm, the darkness lashes against the world of light like waves breaking along a cliff. And far away, within the bustling frontier town of Sandpoint, the darkness finds a hold in three souls. That night, death stalks the streets of Sandpoint as a blazing light illuminates the unquiet night...
For the first time in several years, Sandpoint comes to life for the Swallowtail Festival - throughout the town, shops close and farmers stop their tasks as they prepare to celebrate the age-old festival. For hundreds of years, the nomadic Varisians of the area have celebrated the turning of the seasons from summer to fall, but with the arrival of Chelish settlers from the east, the annual celebration has become a harvest festival, signaling the local farmers to prepare for the harsh winters endemic to the Lost Coast.
Five years ago, tragedy struck the town on the day of the Swallowtail Festival, when the local temple burned to the ground, killing Father Tobyn, the town's priest of Desna. For the past few years, Sandpoint has fallen on hard times, with heat waves, blighted crops and unusually fierce winters bringing the town close to the brink of destruction at some of its lowest moments, and some of the more superstitious locals have muttered of curses and dark magic - this year, however, Sandpoint's fortunes seem to have turned around, and with the construction of the new Sandpoint Cathedral in place of the lost temple, the townspeople are once again looking forward to celebrating their newfound prosperity and the blessings of the gods. As the town prepares for the annual celebration, an unlikely group of heroes converges on the town of Sandpoint, brought together by fate for some greater purpose...
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On an ordinary day, only a handful of conscientious farmers are likely to rise with the sun in the sleepy town of Sandpoint - the first Swallowtail Festival in five years is no ordinary day, however, and almost every inhabitant of the village is out and about by the time the sun rises behind the newly constructed Sandpoint Cathedral, casting the shadows of its seven spires halfway to the jagged cliffs of Chopper's Isle, where eerily silent birds still wing overhead as if bearing silent witness to the horrific nights not too long ago when the people of Sandpoint lived in fear. Nearby, the squat ruins of the Old Light loom over the mouth of the Sandpoint Harbor like a dilapidated sentinel, watching as a Chelish brigantine slowly makes its way in to dock and offload its cargo before the Festival begins.
From the south, another group of merchants approaches with a similar purpose - a caravan from the Mica Peak Trading Company, a small mercantile house from Janderhoff, has traveled west from Magnimar to meet the Horizon Glory, a merchant ship out of Kintargo, away from the prying eyes and exorbitant 'dock taxes' of the often-corrupt harbormaster of Magnimar. As the caravan emerges from the shade of Tickwood Forest and approaches the Sandpoint Bridge, a weathered sign comes into view, bearing a greeting and a reminder to adhere the town's laws.
Below the lettering, a chipped mirror is attached to the sign, reflecting the members of the caravan as they pass by...
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Erridon accepts the task as he usually does. A caravan might mean new friends or something to learn. There might be an interesting book too. But.... First, business. He tucks the pouch deep in a pocket and heads out. He takes the right on Festival street, through the market to Market street to meet the caravan.
Once it is in sight he waves to anyone he recognizes. "Welcome back. I'm looking for Jaakko Hjerson. Do you know where he'd be?"
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Tot blinks the early morning sun out of her eyes as she emerges from under the shadowed boughs of the Tickwood. She'd joined the caravan only two days before as both a guard and a cook while it was passing through Magnimar. Most would have noticed she keeps to herself and speaks softly. She's rather protective of a journal she keeps and pulls out whenever she has a little free time, though a certain gnome has managed to sneak a peek at it without her knowing.
Seeing the sign, Tot looks around, making sure that no one is watching her before she tries to smile at the mirror. It looks strained, even desperate, to her, and she's certain that it's worse than it appears. She wipes a stubborn smudge on her face as she pulls her hood low with the other hand. She looks like an urchin, dressed as she is in ragged clothing and with a freckled face that makes her look even younger than her already youthful appearance does. Add in the fangs, the messy hair (she really had tried to put it into some semblance of order before cooking breakfast for the caravan, but to no avail,) the ashen skin, and red eyes, she's certain that no one will trust her.
That is going to be a problem. With winter coming, the traveling season is growing short, and Tot is too experienced with the dangers that lurk in the wilder places of the world to dare risk traveling alone. She is aware, especially now, that she was incredibly lucky to have traversed the Mindspin Mountains from Nidal to Korvosa without getting herself badly hurt or killed. From the rumors she heard back in Magnimar, it'd be dangerous to travel the hinterlands around Sandpoint alone. She's unlikely to find a caravan heading anywhere but back to Magnimar this late in the season, and she has no desire to return to the bustling City of Monuments, at least not so soon after the incident in the red light district she'd somehow wandered into after getting turned around that had necessitated joining up with the first caravan out of the city.
Her cheeks redden a little as she remembers the incident. She doubts that the lady of the night was likely to forgive her after she'd knocked two of the woman's teeth out after the prostitute had grabbed her arm. Tot admits that she overreacted, but still--
The young fighter shakes the memory away. She needs to focus on the problem at hand, namely how to make sure she has a place to stay through the winter. Maybe one of the inns or taverns has a spare corner she could sleep in, and she doesn't mind working the kitchens. One advantage of her infernal heritage is that she doesn't have to worry about the heat, although she did get chilly easily, despite being able to handle the cold about as well without ill effects. Hopefully one of them would be willing to have her work for them for at least a roof over her head and something to eat and drink everyday.
Though, she thinks as she looks down at her mismatched armor and ragged clothing, that isn't likely to happen dressed as she is now. The young fighter sighs and wonders if she isn't being overly optimistic. She has heard more than a few stories about tieflings being run out of towns, if not outright crippled or killed, just for being tieflings. Then there's the Chelish-flagged ship in the harbor reminding her that she's on the run, and even here might not be safe.
She shakes her head again, further mussing her hair.
"Don't borrow trouble," she whispers to herself. "Don't be a burden. Be useful. Don't draw attention to yourself." She softly repeats the mantra over and over again as she walks down the hill into Sandpoint.
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The trip has been fun for Isidiana! She's gotten to practice plenty on the journey, and overall she hopes folks have tolerated her doing so. If they don't have taste, well a pity. And she's learned things, things that make her want to compose a song or two. But for now, well, she snoozes well. However, As it is just close to dawn, she stretches and wakes slowly, then perks up more alertly as they approach the sign before them
WELCOME TO SANDPOINT! PLEASE STOP TO SEE YOURSELF AS WE SEE YOU!
Below the lettering, a chipped mirror is attached to the sign, reflecting the members of the caravan as they pass by...
"Gah, a gnome, run , run for your lives" Izzy D feigns shock, then smooths her plum and grape hued hair with a giggle, putting into her regular pony tail, "What a view to wake up to."
She gathers up her violin as they ride by the sign and onto the bridge, and begins to play the Swallowtail Jig, appropriate she thinks. And she needs to practice her instrumentals a bit more. She prances in place on the wagon, threatening to fall over but loving the sensation arrival of some place new, some place maybe wonderful? YES YES YES!
Her music is fast and lively and alive! A stirring tune for so early in the day! "Hello, Sandpoint!" SHe says to the town itself as she gets a look at it, "I'm Izzy D, and I and my music are here! You're welcome." A chuckle as she plays the tune through.
Erridon is distracted from his 'search' for Jaakko Hjerson by the violin playing, dancing gnome on one of the wagons. He laughs and responds, "Indeed and Thank you for the music Izzy D! And welcome to Sandpoint. That's quite a performance. I'm Ari by the way."
"Would you happen to know where I'd find Jaakko Hjerson? I need to complete a bit of business before the festival."
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Erridon is distracted from his 'search' for Jaakko Hjerson by the violin playing, dancing gnome on one of the wagons. He laughs and responds, "Indeed and Thank you for the music Izzy D! And welcome to Sandpoint. That's quite a performance. I'm Ari by the way."
"Thank you, Ari. Flattery is a feast at which I play a glutton, so most kind of you. Lovely town by the way, love what you've done with it." She strains about and drops off the caravan as soon as it is clear they are in it, and she can do so safely.
"Would you happen to know where I'd find Jaakko Hjerson? I need to complete a bit of business before the festival."
"Well, not everyone's a chatterbox like me, and but I think I heard the name Jaakko on the wagon behind, but I'm not sure," She looks positively apologetic "What's he look like? I'll help you find him!"
Erridon pauses a moment. "Jaakko? Dwarf merchant. From Janderhoff. I thought he'd be arriving here. He's supposed to have an item from Magnamar. My folks sent me to pick it up. Thanks!"
He continues along checking with other wagons.
Tot hadn't noticed the wagon's slowing down as the enter the town's gate nor that someone was going up the stream of wagons asking after Jaako Hjelson, a jolly, rotund dwarf whose stories she'd rather enjoyed. Her head is down as she continues muttering her mantra about making herself useful while not standing out, so she doesn't see Erridon until she'd run into him. Thankfully she isn't walking with any haste herself, but her momentum does cause the two of them to stumble a bit. She looks up at the slender young man, her expression mirroring that of a puppy not only expecting to be kicked but thinking it deserves to be kicked as her mouth soundlessly opens and closes while she tries to apologize before the expected outburst.
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Erridon is looking up and around and apparently not focused on right in front of his face. When the little.... tiefling? collides with him he is immediately apologetic. "I'm so sorry Ma'a.... Ah. I mean, well, I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention. Are you hurt? Are your parents nearby? My mother would be very upset if I accidentally harmed a child and didn't help out?"
He takes a second look at her, and blushes at his obvious mistake. "Oh my. I'm sorry for being stupid. You're not a child. And I'm an idiot. Can I start over? I'm Ari, a local from here. Welcome to Sand Point of course. Are you here for the festival? Ah, I would offer to show you around town except that I have to find Jaako. Jaako Hjelson. He's supposed to have something for my parents. I'm supposed to find him and pick it up. Maybe after? I like talking to strangers. Especially strangers that I almost ran over and they didn't draw a weapon or punch me! ??"
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Garen was in the back of the caravan today, walking for exercise the last couple of miles. He smiles as he steps into the sun and then even more so when he hears the gnome strike up her violin. It had been an uneventful, which meant good, trip. Hopefully his short stay in Sandpoint would be the same. He looked forward to paying his respects to the head priest and to Iomedae, a close ally of his patron.
Tot's surprise as Erridon apologies is clear on her face, as is the blush that reddens cheeks as he starts to treat her like a child. She is thoroughly confused when he apologizes again after he apparently gets a better look at her.
I'm causing a scene, drawing attention, not good! The thought strobes through her mind as she stands there and the silence begins to grow awkward.
"I-it's fine. I-I-I wasn't w-watching where I was going either," she admits. Her voice is soft, just above a whisper, and sweet, like a songbird's. "I should be a-apologizing to you," she says. "Y-you said you were looking for Master Hjelson? I-I-I c-can show you where he is, i-if you wish."
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Zorlen makes a stop by the mirror as well, taking of his hood for a moment and looking at his reflection.
He has grown quite a bit from when he left town that fateful day five years ago. But he doubts anyone would have trouble recognising him. He knew he stood out, especially with his hood down: horns, tail, deep red skin, bright yellow eyes. Most should notice the resemblance, especially the ones who used to point him out as the cause for any misfortune. Or they would, if they spared more than a glance at him.
Has it really been five years already? I feel I've changed quite a bit since then. What about everyone else? Will they welcome me back, resent me from running away or be scared that I might bring further misfortune now that I'm back?
As he looks back from the mirror towards the Sandpoint Bridge, his eyes drift to a newcomer speaking to the shy tiefling cook. Something about him seems familiar, however, until it clicks, and he walks over with a smile.
"Hey, Ari, is that you?"
Tot flinches at the sound of Zorlen's voice, not because it's unpleasant, but because it's drawing more attention towards her.
Oh no. This is what I didn't want to happen, she thinks as she sees the taller and more fearsome looking Zorlen approaching from over her shoulder. Why did he leave his hood down? That just makes it worse.
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Grod gives the caravan one last once-over as its travelers begin to disperse at the destination, before turning to head into town himself. He nods to Garen when he sees him, across the way. The caravan had been uneventful, but hadn't quite fallen to boring, in part because of the holy warrior's sparring matches. Grod understood conviction, but he still looked a bit askance at Iomedae. But Garen seemed a good sort. Iomedaeans usually were, as long as they weren't considering you lower than rats because your grandfather was an orc. He'd seen a fair bit of that as a youth traveling out of Belkzen and through Lastwall. Back when that grandfather was still alive. Before Molthune. He turned away before the memories overtook him again.
Coming up to the chipped mirror, he pauses for a minute. He saw what he always saw. Not quite six and half feet tall, about 275 pounds of pale green skin emerging from battered but still-solid lamellar, his muscular arms tattooed and scarred to show his devotion to Gorum. Red eyes beneath a dented but serviceable helm. Axe and bow strapped to his back. It usually wasn't hard to find work making a few coins to stand around and spook riff-raff. But he was hoping there'd be more than that here. he'd heard giants were on the move. That would be a real challenge.
He wanders toward a group that's a bit more animated than most, as he notices their diminutive cook. He steps up near her, close enough that his considerable shadow falls over her. "I hear we've you to thank for the meals along the route, little one. It's true what they say, that an army marches on its stomach. I've lived on trail rations for weeks before. It ain't fun. You made the trip better than it would've been. Thanks. Let me know if you need a recommendation to any taverns around town. Most of 'em could probably use a cook like you." he says. When she turns, he's extended his enormous hand to shake. Like the rest of his arm, it's tattooed and scarred, with a tattoo in the center; a sword lodged in a mountain, which seems to be the centerpiece of the whole arm's artwork.
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Erridon is a bit confused by the little tiefling's timid nature. Her voice is sweet but so soft, almost too low to hear properly. He hears a familiar voice and turns to see Zorlen approaching. "Zorlen! Yes. I was looking for Jaako Hjelson, needing to get something he was bringing for the folks. And.... I wasn't watching where I was going, you know me. And I accidentally ran into this young girl, er, I mean lady. She mentioned possibly helping me find him, then you showed up, and. ??"
He is startled by the large, armored, tattooed man that walks up and starts talking to the little tiefling girl. Lady he reminds himself. She looks young but she's not a little girl! He turns back to Tot. "You're a cook? and looking for work? With the festival I'm sure there's a lot of work here. And after you'll be known for whatever great dishes you do.... But you'll have to speak up a little bit. Your voice sounds nice you know. But I didn't hear your name?"
He turns to the big man and extends a hand. "And you sir, Welcome to Sand Point. I'm Errilon but my friends, like the scholarly Zorlen there, call me Ari."
Errilon smiles at Grod as he looks up to his face. His height, 6', is usually slightly above average. But that and his slender frame, by this huge man make him feel as little as the little tiefling must feel. That with his plain cloths and just the slender blade he wears....
At the border of Sandpoint proper, a motley crowd begins to form around the sign welcoming visitors into the small seaside town. As the six heroes gather on the knoll, renewing old acquaintances or taking in the quaint vista of the town going about its preparations for the festival, the caravan, weary from the two-day journey out of Magnimar and eager to offload their goods before the festivities, continues on its way, trundling along at the steady pace of the stolid draft-horses' gait.
As one of the cart-horses plods past, a figure hops down from his perch at the back of the wagon, dragging a bulky, heavy-looking carrying case with him as he makes his way over to the group. Insinuating himself between the members of the impromptu gathering with the grace of a Taldan courtier and the subtlety of a charging Rull warbeast, a fat, white-bearded dwarf in the comfortable-looking clothes of a merchant pushes his way into the group, stopping as he sees Errilon and dropping the case at his feet with a solid-sounding clang. Mopping the sweat from his bald head with a handkerchief, the rotund dwarf rushes up to the young sylph, seizing his hand and pumping it up and down vigorously. "Angradd's beard, for a moment there, I thought you were my old friend Donald! You're his son, right? What was the name... Erikson? He talked about you all the time - I'm Jaakko, I'm a friend of his." He peers intently at the taller sylph, craning his head this way and that to examine his old friend's son. "Let's see... you've got the jaw of your father... and the eyes of your mo... Well!" He laughs heartily, giving the slender young man a firm slap on the back. "Well, we've all got our own little quirks, no harm in that!"
Moving back to where he dropped the heavy case, he picks it back up again with a grunt of effort, following the retreating form of the caravan as the line of carts makes its way into the market square. "Well, much as I'd love to stay and talk with you, I've got a package for your parents." The rotund dwarf motions to the other members of the motley group on the hillside as he makes his way into town. "First time in Sandpoint, the rest of you? Once my job's done, I'd be happy to show you around. You'll be wanting to find lodgings before the Festival, too - the bonfires go late into the night, and you don't want to miss the fun because you're haggling with old Viskalai over the price of a room!"
Erridon laughs when Jaakko mentions his eyes. They didn't match either parent! When he mentions the package for his parents he pulls the pouch with the gold coins from his pocket. "Jaakko, My parents sent me to find you to get the package. I've got the payment for it. They're closing up their shop soon. If you're going to be guiding everyone here around I can run it to them. And I'll come back as quick as I can to help. ??"
This is all proving to be a bit much for poor Tot. The young woman's blush deepens at Grod complimenting her cooking, and she can feel the tips of her ears burning when Ari--yes, that was his name--when he corrects himself after calling her a girl and then even more so when he says she has a nice voice.
"C-call me Tot," she stammers as she finds herself surrounded by three men much taller than herself. "Th-thank you," she gets out, nodding to both Ari and Grod as she takes the half-orc warrior's hand, or rather when her hand disappears into his massive paw. Despite looking delicate, her grip, what she can get anyway, is firm, and her hands and fingers are hardened by calluses. Looking more closely, it appears that both the sword at her hip and her shield are well used and cared for.
"I-I was hoping to get work as a cook," she tells them as Jaakko Hjelson hops off one of the passing wagons and makes his way over with a heavy load. "C-could you--Could you tell me if anyone is looking to hire?"
Whatever the answer is, it will have to wait as the dwarf Ari is looking for arrives. She nods when he asks if it's her first time in Sandpoint. The warning about finding lodgings now is well taken, but she has no idea where would be a good place to go, especially given her obvious heritage. Seeing him struggle with the case, she steps up and silently offers a hand to help even as Ari offers to take it.
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Jaakko's eyes raise as Erridon gives him the pouch with the gold coins. "Well, isn't that convenient!" He hands over the heavy case to Erridon. "I'd say 'be careful with it,' but I don't know how much damage you can do to that one. It's a dorn-dergar, straight out of Kraggodan - don't know what your parents want with that, but I was able to find it with some digging. Give them my regards, you hear?"
Turning back to the rest of the group, he motions them to follow as he sets off down Market Street. "Now, as for lodgings, there's two places you can stay. White Deer's a bit nicer, but I think there might be trouble there - Viskalai, the innkeeper, he can be a bit... rough around the edges. Don't think he'll be keen on orc-bloods and hellspawn and such staying at his place." He glances apologetically at Grod, Zorlen, and Tot. "I don't much like the man myself, but that's the way it is, I'm afraid. You'll have better luck trying the Rusty Dragon - I think you'd like it more there anyhow. You seem like the capable lot - the owner Ameiko, she's got a standing offer of sorts. Everyone who can impress her in some way - with a story of bravery and heroism, cooking up a wonderful dish she's never had, anything like that, they get free drinks, free rooms, everything. Not much excitement in this little town, from the times I've been here, but most of what there is goes on in the Dragon's taproom."
After a moment, he stops, glancing around and furrowing his brow as though seeking something that isn't there. "Well, most times I've been here, Sheriff Avertin's wanted to meet all the new arrivals, make sure the won't cause trouble. Wonder what's keeping him?"
Erridon picks up the case, or tries to. He won't be running with it.
As he starts to leave he hears Jaakko mention the sheriff. "Ah, It's Sheriff Hemlock now. Sheriff Avertin is, um, retired. Events out at Chopper's Isle. I'll be right back." He heads back home with the case. Why hadn't his mother mentioned how heavy this thing was? He could have brought a small cart!
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"Heh, I agree with our companion here, Tot. I've greatly enjoyed our meals these couple of days, and I've been in my share of caravans travelling around the continent. You should have no trouble finding a place to work with your skills, but... Master Hjelson comment on Viskalai's views unfortunately extends to some of the town as well." He adds with a sigh and a sad expression on his face. "Many of the people here can be a bit... Superstitious, especially when it comes to people like us two. Unless that's changed in the past five years?" He looks to Ari, hoping for confirmation, and then pats him lightly on the back. "Don't get me wrong, it's not a view shared by the whole town. I mean, take Ari and his folks, here. As far as I know, they never had a problem with me, and Ari here was one of the few friends my age I had growing up."
He then looks back to the dwarf, at his question on the sheriff.
"I think Sheriff Avertin ended up being replaced, by Belor Hemlock... You know, following all that... Unpleasant business around that time." His expression hardens a bit as he looks towards the path leading into town for a moment. He then looks to Ari again. "No idea if Hemlock is still sheriff, though. Haven't really kept up with local happenings."
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Isidiana starts to call out "Jaakko? Someone looking for you are you.....” She begins, then stuff happens, Tot gets run over by an over eager Erridon, or is it Erridon gets run under by a nervous Tot?
Tot cringes, only for Ari to apologize like a gent… A classic meet cute situation perhaps?
Garen walks by, clearly in a good mood, Reminded of his own love waiting in this town, no doubt, oh how they have pined for each other from afar!
Then Zorlen greets Ari, Tot flinches.. this means something, AH HA! love triangle in the making?
Then Grod compliments Tot’s cooking and offers her a job, The well to do gent of influence! Bold casting choice! Bravo!
Finally, Jaakko approaches, speaks of old times and how Ari has grown, The old family friend… oh sweet gods, is he doomed to DIE? But he seems so nice. This will give impetus to the story. and just like that, the poor dwarf is doomed to die in the saga she’s writing in her head. The best most ruthless assassins are writers!
Talk of Inns almost yanks her out of her inner narrative construction
And one of our number is the secret bastard child and heir to the now mad Sheriff’s hidden FORTUNE!
”This is going to make a fantastic story!” She blurts happily and, seemingly out of nowhere!
Then she adds, "Not that the story of Mad Chopper Stoot who spread death to many, and insanity to poor Sheriff Avertin isn't a good one already, grim and grizzly that, but I like the one we've got in progress here." She grins a bit too widely at them all.
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Eridon feels torn between what he wants to do and what he should do. He knows that his parents will expect him back with their purchase. And it's definitely too heavy to just carry around. Now if he was as big and strong as that tattooed warrior.... He does want to get to know that little tiefling gir.... woman! And he wants to catch up with Zorlen. Ari really wishes he could travel like Zorlen does. To actually see some of the places that he'd read about!
He moves as fast as he can with the heavy case. Relatively quickly he gets to their shop/home. "Mom. Dad. I've got the package from Jaakko. It's HEAVY! Where do you want it? Zorlen's back and there's another tiefling with the caravan. A little woman tiefling. And she's got a nice voice. Talks really quiet though like maybe she doesn't want to be heard? I want to get back to chat with Zorlen and her. She said her name was Tot. Or maybe that was only part of her name because she was talking so quietly. Zorlen seemed to know her."
Cher came into the room and stopped Erridon's stream of narrative. "Now Ari. You need to curb your enthusiasm. Your constant stream of questions can be intimidating you know! Put the package over there. Your father and I can get it over to Ilsoari. Pay attention to Zorlen and be polite with your new friend, for I'm sure she'll be your friend if you let her. And remember that she may not want to answer questions about her parents."
Erridon was listening, even as he turned and sprinted out the door to get back to the caravan.
"Th-thank you," Tot mutters at Zorlen's compliment and the news about how some of the locals view tieflings like himself, and her for that matter. It isn't unexpected. The compliments, however, are something she finds unusual, and she isn't sure if she minds them or not. Those thoughts are soon pushed aside by what Master Hjelson has to say.
Free lodgings if we can impress her? Maybe that can work. I wonder what I can fix that will do that? Ameiko doesn't sound like a name from around here. I wonder where she's from.
Tot's thoughts distract her long enough that she misses her chance to help Ari out, and a chance at giving herself something to fall back on if working for Ameiko or Viskalai, however unlikely the latter was to hire her, fell through. She doesn't have long to mope before Isidiana declares that something will make a great story, though what, Tot couldn't say. She has never been able to make sense of the gnome's seeming non-sequiturs, and she's too afraid to ask anyone what they mean for fear of standing out more than she already does.
A man--no. A murderer named Chopper, a sheriff that's been replaced after something at some place called Chopper's isle, and all of that happened at least five years ago when Zorlen left. The thought leaves Tot feeling ill. I really hope I'm worrying over nothing. I probably am. Just calm down. Puking your guts up here is certain to attract attention and you've already gotten enough with a bloody Chelish flag in the harbor!
Tot takes a deep breath and follows Jaako Hjelson and the others into Sandpoint. All the while she tries to calm down while telling herself that she's jumping at shadows and everything will be alright.
At the news of Sheriff Avertin's replacement, Jaakko seems saddened. "Well, he'll be missed, that's for sure - I might go check in on the old man at some point, see how he's doing. Just the latest in a long line of misfortunes, from what I hear - Sandpoint hasn't had an easy time of it recently." As the group continues on down the southern road, however, he seems to cheer up, giving a friendly wave when Erridon reappears. "There you are! My thanks again for helping out with that case. Now your parents have all their work done, they won't miss the Festival!"
Making their way further into the heart of the quaint town, the group begins to see the spirit the locals have put into this celebration - every step, it seems, there are more banners, more decorative lanterns, more paper swallowtail butterflies hanging from eaves, and by the time the motley band reaches the Sandpoint Market near the docks, quite a crowd has begun to form. The Festival itself doesn't start until midday, but market stalls are already being converted to run the various games and competitions that will go throughout the day. Many of the stalls, such as the Three-Legged Race and the ever-popular Splat the Rat, are bedecked in colorful, bright colors, perfect for the younger children of the town, while at the other end of the market, two older men squabble over how to hang a sign marked "Tales of Terror" by an impromptu stage set up in the open workroom of the wainwright's shop. A scruffy-looking terrier with a stick clamped firmly between its canine jaws bounds between the legs of the party, followed by a pair of laughing children chasing their pet.
In the nearby harbor, the Chelish brigantine has moored, and many of the wagons from the Micah Peak caravan stand nearby - sailors load the cargo from the wagons onto the ship as an official-looking man with a plume in his peaked cap animatedly talks with Tolmar, the caravan master. Noticing you, the lean merchant motions you over with one hand, fishing in his pocket for his notebook as he pushes his spectacles up his hooked nose. "Now, let's s-see here - you're all settled with the c-company. My f-friends, your contract with Mica Peak has officially r-run its course." He makes some marks next to columns in his notebook, snapping it shut as he looks up at the party. "Now, of c-course, you're welcome to j-join us on the route back at the same p-pay, but for n-now, enjoy the F-festival. We won't be able to r-restock until tomorrow a-anyway." A grin flashes across his face, so quick that it might be mistaken for a trick of the light. "How I've m-missed those pastries the b-baker used to make - still, a s-sweet tooth is far from the w-worst vice." Shaking his head, he returns back to his dealings with the captain of the Horizon Glory, periodically referring back to his notebook for one of the rows and columns into which he meticulously records every aspect of the caravan under his command.
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Garen raises a hand to Grod then closes on the gathering around the cook. He’s not as imposing as imposing as the half-orc being nearly a foot shorter but he is nearly as broad shouldered. As a relatively poor knight he wears what he could afford, scale mail which is covered by a crimson tabard trimmed in gold emblazoned with a sword crossed with a wing (Ragathiel). And like any good man at arms, he bristles with weapons.
As he listens to the conversation he realizes he never caught the cook’s name. He watches the curious interactions and when there is a pause he starts to introduce himself when Jaacko stumps up. He offers to carry the heavy package for the local boy but the young man is in a hurry and doesn’t seem to want to wait for the caravan to make it to the docks before heading out. ”Catch ya later,” he says as Erridon hurries off.
After Tolmar speaks to them Garen extends his hand, shakes that of the caravan master and says, ”Thank you, sir. I’ll be staying for a bit.” Then, turning to the others he asks, ”Anyone know the direction to this new temple? I wanted to go meet the priest.”
As they make their way to the docks and Zorlen takes in the festive atmosphere, he can't help but smile, a stark contrast to the worried expression he'd typically show during the trip.
It quickly fades, though, as Garen asks about the cathedral, the memories and recent dreams of that fateful night flooding back into his head.
Shaking his head to drive the thoughts away, he forces his smile back and points towards the northeast.
"I think it was built over the remains of the old church. You should be able to see it towering over the roofs if you head along Festival Street. Then just turn left into High Street and go up the hill towards it."
"I'm not sure who was appointed as head priest after... The fire." Zorlen adds as he smile fades away. "Whomever it was, though, will probably be busy preparing for the festival right now. It's a Desnan holiday, after all."
Erridon gets back, slightly breathless for having sprinted. He doesn't think he bruised anybody that he might have caromed off....
"That's right. The cathedral is where High street merges with Church street. The Desnan priest is Abstalar Zantus. Father Zantus might be out here somewhere, but there's always at least an acolyte there if you have questions."
"Great to see you again Zorlen. Mom and Dad say Hi! Did you get any interesting books on this trip? And who are all of your new friends? Mom says I need to go easy on any questions to new people but you know me so...." He scans the area, looking for.... somebody?
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Making their way further into the heart of the quaint town, the group begins to see the spirit the locals have put into this celebration - every step, it seems, there are more banners, more decorative lanterns, more paper swallowtail butterflies hanging from eaves, and by the time the motley band reaches the Sandpoint Market near the docks, quite a crowd has begun to form. The Festival itself doesn't start until midday, but market stalls are already being converted to run the various games and competitions that will go throughout the day. Many of the stalls, such as the Three-Legged Race and the ever-popular Splat the Rat, are bedecked in colorful, bright colors, perfect for the younger children of the town, while at the other end of the market, two older men squabble over how to hang a sign marked "Tales of Terror" by an impromptu stage set up in the open workroom of the wainwright's shop. A scruffy-looking terrier with a stick clamped firmly between its canine jaws bounds between the legs of the party, followed by a pair of laughing children chasing their pet.
Izzy D seems utterly enraptured by the preparation, poking her nose in here or there if it offend none, heading deeper into the heart of Sandpoint.
"I'm off to this Rusty Dragon... got a song I don't think the lady has heard before, and I want that free room and bard.. err board!"
And just like that, she makes her way towards the Rusty dragon Inn, or at least whatever building looks like a Rusty Dragon Inn. She grins, "I'm Isidiana Gimblewabe, and I hear there's free room and drinks if we can surprise the lady of the place? Tell me if you've heard this one!"
Leaping up to a stool, she says "This was taught to me by a minstrel who hired my Cousin Lenark, who fancies himself a ranger and guide... to spoil it for you, he is NOT." The little gnome begins to sing in a sweet voice.
"Lungs are heaving, missed my dinner
We've climbed Mountains, fallen in the river
You're a terrible guide, so I'm begging you please
Get me some place safe and leave me, you can keep your fee
Find a road, you crazy gnome
For someplace safe, I now long
This trip has been one intense trauma
Find a road, you crazy gnome
I wanted to save coin, renting a ranger
Your price was shady, I shouldn't have oughta
Dark and deadly, I ain't gonna lie
I do not mean to whine, but I'm sure we're gonna die
If you don't, take me home
Or to some place safe, afore too long
I climbed cliffs with ya, but I'm no Llama
Take me home, you crazy gnome!
We've been lost for several hours, can you hear me?
I think I heard a cougar scream not so far away
For days now we have strode, I get a feelin' that we should have been home
Yesterday, YESTERDAY!
Find a road, damned Ranger gnome
You've driven me to song!
I may skin you! I want my mama!
Find us a road now, you crazy gnome!
I'll never again hire, a crazy gnome
No more guides, that are crazy gnomes!"
It's not her best attempt, she rushed her introduction, and may have failed to appraise the crowd, still, it maybe decent enough she gets another shot if it didn't qualify!
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As the rather strange group makes their way into town, Tot finds herself worrying less and less about the Chelish Brigantine as the sights and sounds of a festival day wash over her. Until coming to Varisia, she hadn't experienced any festivals, but in the two years since then, she has been to a couple and she enjoys watching the people as they celebrate. Besides, festivals always meant good food. She just wishes she was better at dealing with people so she could learn their culinary secrets.
Tot's smile vanishes as she sees Master Tolmar waving them over. The last thing she wants to do is get closer to the Chelish captain and his ship, unfortunately, she is also aware that she's far more likely to draw attention by not going than she is by staying away. She keeps her hood low and tries not to look too impatient or nervous. She waits behind Garen and shakes Master Tolmar's hand in turn.
"I also plan to stay," she tells the caravan master. She is rather pleased that she manages to get the line out without stuttering or turning into a blushing mess for once. "I wish you safe travels, Master Tolmar" she adds with a bow of her head and turns to leave before she hears Master Tolmar clearing his throat.
"Y-Your p-pay," the caravan master says as he holds out a small, rough-spun pouch of coins with two fingers.
Tot's face turns scarlet as she realizes that she forgot to receive her pay in her haste to get away from the Chelish ship and her captain. She takes the pouch as she tries, and fails, to meet the caravan master's eyes.
"Th-thank you, M-master Tolmar," she stammers before scurrying back to where Jaako Hjelson is waiting.
So much for not drawing attention, Titania! Now that captain either thinks you're an idiot or suspicious and I'm not sure which is worse. The mental berating Tot gives herself only lasts until she hears Izzy saying she's going to the Rusty Dragon. Tot frets for a couple of seconds before chasing after the gnomish bard. She only hopes that Izzy knows where she is going because Tot knows she does not.
The tiefling cook comes in just as Izzy is hopping up on the stool. She's slightly winded from trying to keep up with the gnome, and soon finds herself short of breath as she listens to the performance. She's definitely heard better and the delivery is far from perfect, but after close to twenty years learning to be a scout and being a scout, she's had far too much experience with getting lost to not find the story humorous to the point of hilarity.
Tears stream down her face as her eyes dance with delight as she leans heavily against a table to keep from falling to the floor and rolling around laughing. Her sides hurt with the effort to keep from busting out with gales of laughter even as she clamps her free hand to her mouth to keep it in. She can picture every single event, or at least the events that inspired the lines of the song, and that only makes it harder to keep her composure, or what little of it is left.
The final straw is when a gnome dressed in the garb of a woodsman and a familial resemblance to the songstress giving the performance slams down his drink with a growl and storms out of the Rusty Dragon. The look of disgust and contempt he gives Tot lacks the voltage it needs to be truly threatening, especially to someone a foot and a half taller, and the fighter loses her valiant struggle. The dam cracks, and Tot gives in, laughing so hard no sound besides the occasional squeak comes out. She drops to her knees next to the table and leans on a vacant stool as she nearly passes out from the light-headedness.
Grod takes his coin for the past few days, then wanders through town, taking in the sights. After a bit, he comes to a large building with a metal dragon on the roof. This must be the place. he thinks, the heads in. He's just in time to be assaulted by gnomish singing, and stands frozen in the doorway for the last verse or two, not quite sure what to make of this...display.
But he soon notices that the tiefling cook from the caravan is enjoying the show. And to be honest, he's enjoying the show she's putting on. He ambles over and takes the stool opposite the one she's leaning against. "You going to be alright? Tot, wasn't it? Don't die laughing, you only just got here."
He's doing his very best to keep a straight face, but her reaction has him close to cracking up. So much so that it takes a minute before something occurs to him. He glances around "I hope this seat isn't taken. Don't mean to intrude."
It takes a good minute for Tot to calm enough to pull herself up into the stool. She has never laughed so hard or so much in her life, and her sides hurt. Grod, Izzy, nor anyone really has ever seen her smiling so much. The giddy tiefling looks up at Grod as he glances around.
"I hope this seat isn't taken. Don't mean to intrude."
She buries her head in her arms as another fit of giggles takes over. She knows she will never be able to explain why she found it so funny. Part of it was wordplay, but more on her part than Grod's, and a likely larger part of it is just being in that state where just about anything is funny.
At least she calms down much more quickly this time. Her self-consciousness threatens to take over, but the need to talk to Ameiko, the owner of the Rusty Dragon, is enough for Tot club it down and stay as she looks around.
"I-I think we're in luck," she says with the smile from the laughter still on her face. Her cheeks are flushed and her hair is in more disarray than usual, but she doesn't even notice as she grins at Grod. "The table and stools are not yet to be married."
She looks over to Izzy to see what is going on with the gnomish bard.
"D-Did you come to h-hear Izzy sing, or w-were you looking for a place to sleep tonight," she asks the hulking warpriest.
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Grod stares at her for a moment married? Was I traveling in a caravan of crazy people? Or does she think I was suggesting…well, I could do worse, certainly. he thinks, finally starting to smile despite himself. At least until he realizes he hasn’t answered, and is probably grinning like an idiot. ”Food and a roof over my head were the main plan, yes. Those are always the first resources to secure when you bivouac at an unfamiliar location. I was…not expecting the show, exactly. I never know what to expect with gnomes, really. I am…glad you enjoyed it.”
Tot doesn't really notice any awkwardness on Grod's part, as she is still feeling a little too giddy to pay much attention.
"Oh, I--I guess I did enjoy it," she says before her smile disappears and she begins hunching her shoulders again. "I-I guess you saw me making a fool of m-myself, too."
Grod shrugs. ”I wouldn’t say that. An archer and a spearman do different things in battle. Neither is a fool for doing what is best for him. In the same way, where a large armored man…well, large armored half-orc, rolling on the floor in fits of laughter would be ridiculous, and might damage the furniture, a pretty young woman doing so is lively and endearing. My own humor often takes a darker turn, it is good to see someone with a lighter sense of humor.” he glances around. ”We should get food. Tavern-keepers don’t like people using their tables and not buying anything.” without waiting for agreement, he waves down a server and asks about the menu.
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The gnome winces, as … holy snot, was that Lenark ? Oh damned, that’ll make the next family reunion awkward. The crowd seems to have mixed feelings, some laugh but not as loud as she hoped, then she hears one figure laughing rather hard indeed.
Cayden and Shelyn bless Titania Izzy thinks with a wide grin. Sometimes just making one in the crowd enjoy themselves is enough and… well, looks like that Grod fellow is treating Tot Kindly. Good.
While he asks the server of the menu, Isidiana tries another song, one that’s impromptu and inspired by the words of another and... frankly, more than a bit off the cuff!
Voice high and clear, she gets to a closer spot to Tot, and starts a new song...
“Oh she’s taking that first step and flown far beyond the gate,
She’s been banished to the road or so she feels
but she needn’t take this flight all alone, on her own
Not everyone’s heart is so full of hate, and just wait…
we may sate, that dream she has of a special home!”
“Where what she is, really doesn’t matter…
where people welcome her and don’t scatter
It’s who she wants to be, what she does, they will see
that they’re lucky it’s to here that she roamed.”
“So lowing cows and creamy soup are well within her grasp,
why I understand the poor girl’s even allowed to laugh!
And nevermind the narrowminds, when open hearts in abundance wait
Oh she was very wise to pass the gate! To be loved may yet be her fate!
Oh to be loved and welcomed may yet be her fate!”
There is no mockery in the voice but rather a triumphant certainty and well wish! This time her voice is stronger, clearer, and free of worry about a crowd's judgement.
Scanning the crowd Erridon is a bit disappointed. The 'new friends' all seemed to have wandered off. Jaakko had been directing them but they all seemed to have departed.
"Zorlen? Looks like everyone has run off. Maybe looking for an inn before the festival fills every place? Do you have anywhere you need to go or could I spot you an ale at the Rusty Dragon? Ameiko's still the friendliest in the town."
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Taking this as a sign that she's come across the right place, Izzy bursts in dramatically. Contrary to what Jaakko said about the place's boisterous clientele, it seems that most of the patrons are out preparing for the Festival. The only ones still there are a pair of thickset farmers industriously eating breakfast, a gnome woodsman in the corner sharpening his axe (who Izzy recognizes as her cousin Lenark), and an elderly woman sitting in a comfortable-looking chair near the fire. Behind the bar, a rough-looking Tian woman is dozing on a stool brought from the front of the bar, clearly not expecting more visitors - as Izzy immediately launches into her song, she wakes with a start, losing her balance and toppling to the floor with a loud crash. After a moment, she gets back to her feet, brushing herself off - her muttered curses in Tien are barely audible over the sound of Izzy's singing. After a moment, however, she tilts her head to one side, curious about the actual words of the song the half-mad gnome plays for the tavern.
Much like Tot, Lenark's angry storming out of the tavern seems to be the tipping point for her, and she bursts out laughing. After Izzy finishes her impromptu concert, the Tian woman approaches the motley group, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Pleasure to meet you - I'm Ameiko, the owner here. Let me guess, you're new in town from the caravan? I tell you, that was the funniest thing I've seen in days!" Looking the group up and down, her eyes linger on their heavy packs, and she raises her eyebrows. "Jaakko sent you, didn't he? You'll be needing lodgings for the Festival, I suppose?"
She grins, moving back behind the bar and setting a handful of mugs on the table. "Five silver gets you a room and a hot meal come morning. Nothing for the gnome there - I can't say I haven't heard that first song before, Lenark's a regular here, but never with such..." The innkeeper pauses for a moment, searching for the best word. "...energy. So, anything I can get you before the Festival? I'm afraid we're rather busy getting ready for the Festival lunch, but I can get you some beer, ale, spirits from Janderhoff, that sort of thing. If you want to stop in later during the Festival, we'll have spiced mead then! It's an old family recipe - my grandfather brought it over the Crown of the World from Minkai."
Tot listens to the new song as Ameiko comes over and soon realizes, much to her horror, that Izzy must have gotten a look at her journal that first night out from Magnimar. The tips of her ears appear as triangles of brilliant scarlet against her white hair as she wishes she could turn invisible, crawl under the table, or just have a hole open up in the middle of the floor and swallow her up. She groans as she lays down on the table and tries to shut out the embarrassing, for her anyway, song.
She looks up when Ameiko introduces herself. It takes a few moments for the tiny tiefling to work up the courage to talk to Ameiko and answer the innkeeper's questions.
"S-something to drink would be nice," She says softly as she sits back up. "W-we did come in with the Caravan that Master Hjelson was a part of. H-he was--He was showing us around town when Miss Isidiana ran off looking for this place," Tot begins to rub her fingers as she tries not to squirm. "D-d-do you n-need any help. I-I was h-h-hoping to w-work here, Miss Ameiko. I-I can c-c-cook."
Her cloak ripples as her snakes its way around the leg of the stool. It wraps tightly around it as Tot tries not to let her nerves get the better of her. A part of her, a not small at all part of her, wants to run and hide somewhere, to not be the center of attention of even this small crowd, but--
I can't just run forever. She feels herself calming a bit as the thought comes to her. If I want some place to call home, I have to try finding it some time, don't I? Now is as good a time as ever, so long as I stay away from the docks and any Chelish ships.
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Scanning the crowd Erridon is a bit disappointed. The 'new friends' all seemed to have wandered off. Jaakko had been directing them but they all seemed to have departed.
"Zorlen? Looks like everyone has run off. Maybe looking for an inn before the festival fills every place? Do you have anywhere you need to go or could I spot you an ale at the Rusty Dragon? Ameiko's still the friendliest in the town."
"Well, the gnomish bard, Izzy I think, just kinda sprinted off, looking for the Rusty Dragon on her own, and the others just kind of followed her along. Makes sense, though, they'll have to be looking for a place to stay, I guess." Zorlen looks off in the direction of the cathedral for a moment, and then smiles back to Ari. "Guess I should be doing that, too. So, let's go. I'm taking you up on that ale, and I'll see if Ameiko still has any room available. It'll be nice to catch-up, too. What have I missed these last five years?"
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Much like Tot, Lenark's angry storming out of the tavern seems to be the tipping point for her, and she bursts out laughing. After Izzy finishes her impromptu concert, the Tian woman approaches the motley group, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "Pleasure to meet you - I'm Ameiko, the owner here. Let me guess, you're new in town from the caravan? I tell you, that was the funniest thing I've seen in days!" Looking the group up and down, her eyes linger on their heavy packs, and she raises her eyebrows. "Jaakko sent you, didn't he? You'll be needing lodgings for the Festival, I suppose?"
"Jakko did, nice guy even if it took a bit to find him!" Isidiana smiles, "Nice to meet you, Ameiko. Call me Izzy D. I like your place"
She grins, moving back behind the bar and setting a handful of mugs on the table. "Five silver gets you a room and a hot meal come morning. Nothing for the gnome there - I can't say I haven't heard that first song before, Lenark's a regular here, but never with such..." The innkeeper pauses for a moment, searching for the best word. "...energy. So, anything I can get you before the Festival? I'm afraid we're rather busy getting ready for the Festival lunch, but I can get you some beer, ale, spirits from Janderhoff, that sort of thing. If you want to stop in later during the Festival, we'll have spiced mead then! It's an old family recipe - my grandfather brought it over the Crown of the World from Minkai."
A sheepish look as Lenark is mentioned, "I didn't know he was here or I might have not named names, oh well, he'll live I hope. GOT to try that spiced mead later, but for now a wee bit of ale would be welcome. And thank you for the room so much. I hope to check out the theatre soon."
A nod to Tot's assertions, "Tot is a good cook, really kept our tummies happy on the road!"
There's a theatre here?
For a moment, Tot feels a spasm of irrational fear for Izzy. The murder plays favored by the Chelish nobility and the vast majority of the Unseen were not welcome outside of Cheliax and Nidal, where they'd taken root and flourished like a poisonous rose bush, yet it takes a moment for Tot to remind herself that is the case, given that besides the few times she'd been allowed to accompany her parents, while they were all disguised of course, when they attended a showing she had only seen the murder plays whenever she and the others in the squad she was with went to the theatre.
Izzy's compliment about her cooking, however, had her smiling again. She appreciated the vote of confidence Izzy gives for her, and she decides that she won't figure out how to get back at the gnome for sneaking a peek at her journal, at least this time.
"I-If you wish, I-I could make you s-s-something. H-H-Have you had breakfast yet," she asks Ameiko.
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Erridon strolls along with his friend Zorlen thinking about things. Five years? Well, yes it had been about that long....
"Well, not much with me. Parents are over protective as usual. I did finally learn how to use my rapier correctly. Wait, I didn't have my rapier when you left, just a dagger. Sand Point though? Well I guess the chapel is the big thing. Wait, they call it the Cathedral. The old one was destroyed so they had to re-build. It's bigger, and better. Services for six gods, Abadar, Desna, Erastil, Gozreh, Sarenrae, and Shelyn. My family is all for Sarenrae."
He pauses there, trying to remember if he'd ever mentioned the events of his birth to Zorlen. Probably not. It was just a strange story that his mother had told him, many times....
They arrive at the dragon and Erridon calls out, "Hi Ameiko. I see some of the caravan folk found you. I'll need two ales, one for me and the other for Zorlen. He's back! And maybe he'll tell us all about where he's been for five years."
Moving back behind the bar, she fills another pair of mugs, setting them on the table where Izzy, Grod, and Tot sit. "Erridon filled you in a bit on what's gone on while you've been away? You haven't met the new priest yet, have you? Old Father Tobyn was a good priest - very good to you, if I recall - but this new one, Father Zantus, I think you'll like him. Used to be a rancher from Harse, came here to see the holy stones by the old chapel - when he found out about our troubles, he immediately settled his affairs in Harse and started working to help our town get back on its feet." Bringing over a mug of ale and a chair from nearby for herself, she nods at Zoren, raising her eyebrows expectantly. "So tell me, what have you been up to all these years?"
Approaching the main gates of the grand cathedral, Garen spies only one other figure - an old man, his form bent and frail with age. Dressed in the unadorned robes of a Desnan priest, he methodically sweeps the stage set up in the east side of the square, humming an old hymn to himself as he works. "...And O, that wand'ring shepherd, he lifts his voice in praise; For deep among the stars that night, he spies his goddess's..."
At Garen's approach, he looks up, stopping his song. "Why, hello there, child! You're a pilgrim, here for the Festival, I presume?" Shifting the broom to one hand, he approaches, his other hand extended in greeting. "My name is Abstalar Zantus - I'm the high priest here." Giving a faint chuckle, he glances at the broom in his hand, the corners of his lined mouth twitching up in a smile. "Plenty of my acolytes would say this is beneath me - that a high priest shouldn't be cleaning and such - but I've always felt it... soothing, in a way. I started life as a ranch-hand, you know - even later, when I owned the ranch, I would get up before dawn every day to muck out the stables. It reminded me of who I was, how I got to be where I am. As a priest, it reminds me every day that before all else, my duty is to my congregation, that I cannot lose sight of what is important." He nods to Garen's armor, his eyes lingering on the intricately engraved shield. "You bear the sword and the wing on your armaments - I recognize that symbol well. Tell me, what do you do every day to show your faith in your god?"
"Not too sure if you'd consider any of them good stories, Ameiko. No great and exciting adventuring stories or the like - but then again, wasn't really looking for fame or riches, either. Closest I got was when I managed to convince a group of adventurers to let me join them on a trip to some ancient ruins which should date back to ancient Thassilonian. Made them believe I was an expert on the subject. Granted, I've studied a bit, but I was mostly going off of Mr. Quink's wild theories, and I think they bought it all." Zorlen gives a small chuckle.
"We didn't get very far, anyway - the entrance had caved in, and we didn't really had a way to clear it up safely. Besides that? Mostly travelling around, trying to learn as much as I can about magic. Lots of time spent just going over books, or searching for teachers."
His smile fades a bit as the talk shifts to the new cathedral and the new priest, and he stares down at his drink. "Yeah, Ari already filled me in on the cathedral and told me the name of the new head priest. I'd already heard about the cathedral back in Magnimar, and that we'd finally be having a new Swallowtail festival. Figured the town had put its troubles behind them, and thought I'd swing by, at least for the festival. See how people would react."
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"I prepare myself for when the sword may be necessary. However, High Priest Zantus, unless you have an evil you need vanquished, I have come to offer what other aid I might in the preparation for the morrow. I look forward to the opening of the cathedral and a chance to venerate the goddess Iomedae, she is a close ally of Ragathiel." Garen replies.
Tot nods as Ameiko explains that she'll be busy today.
"I-I understand. It was f-five silvers a night," she confirms before paying for the next two nights.
She sips her ale as the innkeeper turns her attention to Zorlen, and she finds herself likewise curious about what he has been up to.
Maybe I'm nosier than I would care to admit, she thinks to herself. She isn't sure what to think about Zorlen's--well, deception is probably too strong of a word. That he is a mage is of no great surprise. He seems the type. It does seem that he and Master Hjelson were telling the truth about Ameiko. She doesn't seem to mind that Zorlen, and for that matter herself, are tieflings, people touched by fiendish powers or blood, sometimes both. This is proving to be a promising start, she thinks. Hopefully her good luck will hold long enough for her to prove herself capable and worth hiring on.
Her eyes turn to the half-orc with which she's sharing a table and then to Ari and Izzy. After a moment, she decides to try getting one of them to start speaking. The silence at the table is beginning to fray her nerves.
"Wh-what brings you to Sandpoint," she asks the imposing warpriest before she realizes Izzy or Ari would have made a much better choice. After all, they have proven rather loquacious, and that is what she is counting one. She will just have to risk asking another question, she decides.