At the Foothills of Leng - GM Mokmurian's Rise of the Runelords

Game Master Mokmurian the Great

Whatever else Ari might have been thinking, or interested in is wiped from his mind when he hears Zorlen mention 'Thassilonian'. While he occasionally tries to not interrupt..... "Zorlen. Why didn't you mention that you'd found Thassilonian ruins before? Would it be possible to put together a team to go back there? Maybe with better tools we could dig out the entry?"

Then he glances around and quietly adds, "But maybe after the festival...."

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.

Grod shrugs as he downs a mug of ale, but after wiping his face answers "Work, I guess. My highest calling is Gorum's faith, of course," he says, displaying the holy symbol tattooed on his hand. "But my day job is, well, the whole range of mercenary work, really. I mean, I'd rather be on a battlefield somewhere doing the work only a trained soldier can, but a lot of times someone who looks like this" he says, waving in his own general direction "can get paid just to stand at the door with an axe. It discourages thieves. I've also been a bouncer at particularly rough taverns when's that's all I could find. I was over in Janderhoff a few weeks back and heard rumor of giants on the march out in the hinterlands, figured there might be work around here for someone who knows how to fight them." at this he leans forward, half off his stool, and pantomimes dodging blows coming down from above "The trick is to get under their reach, they have a hard time getting down to the ground. Actually, you'd probably be quite good at that, it's not easy for me. But anyway, if you can stay low and work into their blind spots, and giants aren't very flexible, usually, they have a hard time turning to see behind themselves, especially below the waist, you can often hamstring them, and once they're on the ground, well, they're still dangerous, but it usually goes pretty quick..." Grod says, his cadence and hand motions increasing in speed as he gets on a roll. He talks about warfare the way normal people talk about their favorite games, you get the feeling he's really enjoying himself and could go on like this for hours. Please, someone break in so I don't have to keep up this wall of text. lol

Too bad that's exactly what Tot was hoping for. :D

Tot listens as Grod really gets into explaining how he fights giants. There are some differences in tactics, she was taught to engage from range first then move in after you had it surrounded, but there are a lot of similarities. Grod had a point, she was good at getting under a giant's foot, and that meant she'd often been the first one into melee with them.

"The problem is when you face more than one or two foes," she says remembering a particularly harrowing encounter. "Ogres tend to move around in groups, and they're almost as big as hill giants. Darting into a mob of those brutes isn't easy."

Erridon hears Ameiko's words and realizes his outburst about Thassilonian ruins, very much one of his favorite subjects, wasn't pertinent at the time.

"Ven Vinder? And Pennae Kesk? Well, Pennae has always been short sighted, but I guess I had blinders on about Ven. But anybody that knows Zorlen would know better than to think he tried to hurt anyone. I'll watch out for them at the festival, and I'm sure Zorlen will too." He glances around and sees Tot talking to Grod. Maybe they'd stay close together during the festival? None of the townsfolk would start a fight with someone as obviously big and strong as him! "No need to add to the Sheriff's headaches!"

Tot tries to disappear into the stool she's sitting in as Ameiko starts questioning her had Grod. She reluctantly nods when asked if she's faced an ogre before. She has, three times, though each time she'd only been one of several fighters in her squad. While she absolutely doesn't want to talk about herself or her past, especially before deserting and crossing the Mindspin Mountains, she also doesn't know how to decline without raising more suspicious. Perhaps if she gets drunk enough, she ponders for a second before remembering the first and only time she'd done that and suppresses a shiver.

"A-alright," Tot mutters in agreement when Ameiko tells her to come by during the bonfire later.

Idiot! You shouldn't have let your guard down, she silently berates herself as she looks down into her mug.

"I thank you for the offer High Priest Zantus but I will then take my leave and go get a room. I hear the Rusty Dragon is a good stop for weary and thrifty travelers." He says with a smile and extending his hand in friendship.

After leaving Zantus, Garen heads toward general direction referenced earlier for the Rusty Dragon asking passersby every so often to ensure he is on the right trail. Once he arrives, he will head in and go the the desk/bar.

"Who do I see about a room?"

Following what little he can remember of Jaakko's directions and the help of passers-by, Garen makes his way to the Rusty Dragon, a tall building with a rusted weathervane in the shape of a dragon affixed above its door. Brushing past two heavyset farmers on their way out, he finds himself in a mostly empty common room, inhabited only by an old woman peacefully asleep in a comfortable chair near the fire and the other caravan guards. At the sound of another entry, muffled cursing in an unfamiliar tongue comes from the kitchen area, and after a moment of muted clangs and thuds, an exasperated-looking Tian woman makes her way out from the back of the tavern. "Look, I like conversation as much as the next person, but at some point, you can have salmon for lunch or you can have..." She stops short as she sees Garen, looking him up and down curiously. "...Sorry about that - I thought you were that scholar Brodert, here to gossip before the Festival. I take it you're in with the Mica Peak caravan? I'd say Horizon Glory, but with that much armor on you don't peg me as the sailing type. Needing a room? It's five silver for the night and a good meal come morning - less that if you can get a good story going come nightfall."

Ready to move on to noon and the start of the Festival whenever.

Tot tries to disappear into the stool she's sitting in as Ameiko starts questioning her had Grod. She reluctantly nods when asked if she's faced an ogre before. She has, three times, though each time she'd only been one of several fighters in her squad. While she absolutely doesn't want to talk about herself or her past, especially before deserting and crossing the Mindspin Mountains, she also doesn't know how to decline without raising more suspicious. Perhaps if she gets drunk enough, she ponders for a second before remembering the first and only time she'd done that and suppresses a shiver.

"A-alright," Tot mutters in agreement when Ameiko tells her to come by during the bonfire later.

Idiot! You shouldn't have let your guard down, she silently berates herself as she looks down into her mug.

Grod looks back and forth between the two women. "That sounds like a story I want to hear." he says, enthusiastically, before picking up on Tot's reticence and occupying his mouth with a mug of ale. She obviously doesn't want to discuss it. Probably lost someone. Stupid.

"Yes ma'm, and whatever the house special is followed by a bath as well if it is available," Garen says pulling a gold coin from his belt pouch.

Once fed and bathed Garen goes to his room. He completes various bodyweight exercises, asks Ragathiel to guide his hand in the morning, and turns in.

Taking a sip of his ale Erridon considers the conversation he'd heard. Grod, and Tot had been in a battle against ogres? He'd never even seen an ogre, and with what he knew of them didn't really want to! He knew there were dangerous creatures in the area but they usually stayed away from large groups of people.

He looks again at Tot. He could imagine Grod fighting an ogre. The man just looked like he could take a hit or two, or his armor would take the hit. ?? But the little, freckle faced girl.... Damn! Woman! He didn't know how tieflings age compared to human, but she was probably as full grown as he was, and even his parents had to admit that he was a man now! But the freckles were kind of cute! He takes a large swallow of his ale and sputters a bit. Should have just taken a sip!

"So Zorlen, Before the festival starts maybe you could tell me more about the Thassilonian ruins? How did you find out about the place? If the entry is collapsed it might be that nobody has raided it and there might be some useful artifacts there."

[ooc]Let the festival begin!

Izzy might seem a babbling brook, but clearly she has moments where the flow stops, only because she's refilling. She listens to the talk of Sandpoint's recent history and its situation, of its possible biases against tieflings (Hardly unique in that) and the talk of OGRES and RUINS?

She listens to others further in the Dragon too, gossip going about hither and yon, this or that person... though sorting through the sounds might be a challenge. All grist for the goose and sauce for the mill, or is the other way around? Anything and everything said today might become a song or story tomorrow!!

Perception Check if needed: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (16) + 6 = 22

But whatever she learns I'm okay with moving forward too

Feeling too many eyes on her, Tot finishes off her drink and pays whatever she owes before slipping upstairs to drop off her pack, shield, and bow in her room. She thinks about leaving her longsword behind, but she feels too anxious without it. After an abortive attempt to make her hair less of a mess, she heads downstairs and out into the colorful reverie of Sandpoint's people ready for a festival. She's meanders along with the crowd, content to watch while they play, sing, and dance. Despite what are apparently some prickly personalities, she thinks she will like it here.

Ready when y'all are.

I’m a goof, i had it in my head it was the evening before but it’s the day of.

After the bath, Garen wipes down his armor, pulls out a fresh tabard, and heads down to see if the ither caravan travelers are heading out or if he has missed them.

Grod purchases a room for the night, then goes and deposits some of his things there. He keeps his axe and bow, and only reluctantly leaves his other, larger axe, which is wrapped in cloth. There's no reason to carry it around town all day, but he is nevertheless loathe to part with it. One day, I'll master your axe, grandfather. But for now, I'll carry mine.

Zorlen sighs at Ameiko's warnings. "Yeah, those rumours were one of the reasons I decided to just leave town. I knew I'd get blamed for the fire by some. I knew people would say my presence was the reason for all the misfortune hitting the town, and assumed some would even think I was directly responsible for the fire, like Pennae. Didn't really consider they would see my coming as an insult to Nualia's memory, though..." Zorlen shakes his head sadly, and then shrugs. "Nothing I can really do about them, though, besides trying to not stand out too much. I can always leave after the festival, if too many people still blame me for everything."

Taking another sip from his drink, he smiles to Ari as he tries to switch to a less depressing subject. "Well, the group who hired me had some old texts and maps they had me go over, which helped pinpoint out the ruins' location. As for going back there... Well, we might get lucky, I guess, and have all the rubble still there. But I figure the group went back better prepared, and figured they no longer needed me around to take a cut of whatever was found. I wouldn't mind going back ghere, if you want, but it's as Ameiko said - things can get dangerous out there. I guess we could maybe hire some mercenaries to come along, but that will cost a fair deal."

Seeing his caravan companions retire to their rooms to prepare, Zorlen turns back to Ameiko. "You wouldn't happen to have one more room available, would you? I was hoping to stay a bit, catch up some more, if things don't go too badly at the festival."

Ready for the festival as well.

Garen is dressed more for ceremony and only has his sword and dagger on his person. If others are there he greets them all and then heads out when they are ready. If they have headed out already he goes it alone. Either way, he goes looking for the various contests usually found at festivals and he intends to test the variety of foods.

As noon draws near, the group makes their way into the cathedral square - while the plaza was quiet and tranquil in the early hours of the morning, by now, it is a veritable riot of activity, with most of the town's population packed into the square and the streets surrounding, though the town's small population means that there is still quite a bit of room to move around. In the back of the makeshift stage, four chairs hold occupants, with a fifth seat conspicuously empty.

The party gets settled just as the first speaker, a middle-aged woman in the fine clothes of an official, steps up to the podium at the front of the platform and clears her throat. "Good morning to all of you, and thank you for being here to celebrate with us. For the - I don't know, ten? - people who don't already know me, my name is Kendra Deverin, and I am proud to serve the people of Sandpoint as their mayor. Today, we are here for our annual celebration - on this one day in the year, Larz Rovanky leaves his musty tanner's shop and sees the light of day." Mild laughter follows this last bit, punctuated by angry muttering from an irascible-looking old man in a tanner's apron. After a moment, the mayor continues, chuckling. "I jest, I jest. No, today, on the day of the Swallowpoint Festival, after five years of hard winters, five years of blight, five years of darkness, we here in Sandpoint are finally back on our feet - and there's no better way to show that and show our thanks to the gods for our fortune than with the dedication of this; the Sandpoint Cathedral!"

Applause rings out from the crowd as the mayor sits back down, dying out as the next speaker, a tall Shoanti man with a sword at his belt, takes the stage. "With the excitement over the festival, I would feel remiss in my duties as your sheriff if I neglected your safety on this momentous day - I expect we're all looking forward to the bonfire later this evening, but vigilance is needed to ensure the fire doesn't spread beyond the designated boundaries. With that in mind, I ask you to take a moment in memory of those who died during the Sandpoint Fire five years ago today - their deaths are keenly felt, and I am sure that all of my fellow citizens wish to prevent further accidents like this from happening." The crowd remains mostly silent throughout the sheriff's speech, though a few suspicious looks are thrown Zorlen's way, and muttered whispers spring up throughout the throng of people.

A moment of silence follows the sheriff's words of warning, with some of the town notables on the podium casting frustrated glances at the empty chair. After a minute, a man with a well-groomed beard and flashy clothing steps forward, grinning. "Well, as I'm sure you all know, the esteemed Lord Kaijitsu was scheduled to speak here at the beginning of the Festival, but word has recently come to us that he is ill and will be unable to attend. Well, I for one wish him well, as I'm sure all here do, and with the gods' grace, he may get the better of this illness that has prevented his attendance here the past twenty-five consecutive years." His raised eyebrows indicate what he thinks of Lord Kaijitsu's 'illness,' and several in the crowd scoff or grumble to themselves. "Well, I'm certainly sorry he missed so many exciting events we have planned for today! The people of Sandpoint have worked very hard to ensure that this year's Festival is a success, and I'm sure it will exceed anyone's wildest dreams. Lunch is free courtesy of the taverns and inns of our fine community, and the bonfire will begin at sunset. Tomorrow, if you have the time, Sandpoint's own theater will be putting on a performance of 'The Harpy's Curse' - starring the famous Allishanda of Magnimar as Avisera the Harpy Queen!"

As the theater's director sits back down, the last one to speak stands - an old man, bent with age, in the simple robes of a Desnan priest, who Garen recognizes as Father Zantus. He motions to unseen assistants around the side of the cathedral, and a pair of priests wheel out a large wagon covered with a white sheet. After a moment, he turns back to the crowd, beginning his sermon. "Long ago, in the far-off lands between the stars, Desna was injured in her travels through the many worlds - near her death at the hands of a great evil, she fell to Golarion, gravely wounded. For many days, she wandered the desolate hill country where she had fallen - when all seemed lost, however, she found solace with a blind child whose parents had passed, a young girl who came across the injured Desna near her home. The young orphan had little enough to spare, but what she did have, she readily shared with the wounded goddess, nursing her back to health. For the girl's selflessness, Desna granted her deepest wish - that she would be turned into a butterfly, for all eternity free to journey the worlds and experience what she had never known." At a motion of the old man's hand, the other priests throw back the cloth over the wagon, revealing a furious swarm of hundreds of swallowtail butterflies, their bright wings mixing in the air as they fly away, forming a whirlwind of ethereally beautiful colors. "On this day, we celebrate the thousand children of Desna, that they might soar the winds forevermore. And now, let us begin the Festival!"

At Father Zantus's announcement, the crowd rapidly disperses, moving towards inns and taverns or seeking out one of the festival activities around the town to take part in.

Erridon yawns as the speeches wrap up. He liked the release of the butterflies, but they flew away too fast....

As the crowd dispersed he glances around. Moving over to Zorlen he calls out, "Well, shall we start with food, drinks, or games?"

Seeing that Garen fellow, Izzy waves to him happily as she heads out for the start of the Festival.

When they gather in the Cathedral square, Isidiana does what is required not to miss out; that is, find a fence, wooden box, or other object to climb on so she can see past all the tall people, and if need be stand out herself. Her too wide grin shows she’s already enjoying this and it hasn’t even started yet.

Yet, Start it does!

Izzy D is not a local, but she cheers loudly as Kendra Deverin talks of Sandpoint being back on its feet!
She starts to dip her head for the moment of silence but see the judgmental looks thrown Zorlen's way, hears the muttered whispers.. and curious, tries to overhear some of those whispers in more detail.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

a man with a well-groomed beard and flashy clothing steps forward, grinning...

Is that Cyrdak Drokkus? Oh I hoped to talk to him if so!

"Well, I'm certainly sorry he missed so many exciting events we have planned for today! The people of Sandpoint have worked very hard to ensure that this year's Festival is a success, and I'm sure it will exceed anyone's wildest dreams. Lunch is free courtesy of the taverns and inns of our fine community, and the bonfire will begin at sunset. Tomorrow, if you have the time, Sandpoint's own theater will be putting on a performance of 'The Harpy's Curse' - starring the famous Allishanda of Magnimar as Avisera the Harpy Queen!"

Izzy D GASPS, and has to fan herself as she hears THIS news, she almost pounds the shoulder of whatever tall person is near her, ”You hear that? THE Allishanda!”

Then finally, the good priest of Desna takes center stage, so to speak.

At a motion of the old man's hand, the other priests throw back the cloth over the wagon, revealing a furious swarm of hundreds of swallowtail butterflies, their bright wings mixing in the air as they fly away, forming a whirlwind of ethereally beautiful colors. "On this day, we celebrate the thousand children of Desna, that they might soar the winds forevermore. And now, let us begin the Festival!"

Gnomes aren’t always known for reverence, but Isidiana Gimblewabe’s eyes go wide with wonder at this view, the spiraling ascension of the colorful caravan of wings going up up up captivating her spirit for a glorious moment that seems to last forever, despite that all too soon it is over.

As the last butterflies start to get out of site, she giggles like a schoolgirl.

Then she realizes now might be her best time to see if she can close on the man who she thinks is Cyrdak Drokkus, heading towards the fellow who spoke for the theater!

Zorlen listens attentively to each of the speeches, happy to see things the town getting back to normal and moving forward from the tragedies of the past. His smile falters a bit after Hemlock's speech, as he notices the stares he's getting from some of the townsfolk.

Ameiko was right, I guess... Either they think I was the one causing the fire, or they feel me coming back is somehow an affront to the victims. Maybe coming back for the festival was a bad idea...

As the desnan priest takes to the stage, Zorlen shakes those thoughts away and focuses instead on his words. The legend behind the festival is one he knows well, and yet, it's comforting to hear it told again. And seeing the beautiful release of the swallowtial butterflies is a simple joy he never realised how much he missed.

He stares for a bit in the direction they disappeared to, before Ari's question snaps him back to reality.

"Food, maybe? You know, try to get some before the lines get too long. And then we can enjoy the rest of the festival with a full stomach."

Garen, overhearing Zorlen and Erridon, "That sounds good. Mind if I join you?"

"Sure! And I've heard that Ameiko's got something special."

Tot stays at the edge of the crowd. Already anxious over what she's sure to be a stressful night of trying to be a good storyteller without raising even more questions, and likely failing a voice too much like her brothers whispers in her mind, she doesn't want to put herself in a position where she would draw attention to herself. The best way to do that, she's found, is to hover at the edges and keep an eye out for anyone that is paying too much attention.

Perception: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (2) + 7 = 9

Unfortunately for her, nerves and curiosity conspire to drag her attention away from her surroundings towards the stage where the town's leaders are speaking. The corner of her mouth twitches up as the mayor teases the man who appears to be the town's tanner, but her amusement is doused by the reminder that the town's recent past and the muttered whispers and looks even her nerve-scattered attention can't miss. For a moment, she panics thinking they were directed at her, but then she realizes that they are aimed at Zorlen.

I hope he doesn't regret coming back here, she thinks to herself. Despite the prejudice she's certain she'll face at some point, she hopes that she'll like it here. Ameiko, at least, seems nice enough, and that would be more than enough for her if she could work for the unusual innkeeper.

As the flamboyantly dressed man takes over, Tot's attention returns to the stage. She's not certain what to make about the feelings the town apparently has for one of it's lords. Kaijitsu is an unusual name, and while she figures that it's not from the Inner Sea, she's not sure where it could come from.

He's not related to Ameiko, is he? There's not many that would brave the Crown of the World to move to another continent and culture, though.

In her musings, she almost misses Father Zantus starting to tell the story behind the swallowtail butterfly. The tiefling fighter finds herself even more curious about about the tale than she was about what is going on with Lord Kaijitsu. In Cheliax, there's an uneasy relationship between the imperial family, the nobility, and the church of Asmodeus. Most of the stories and parables she heard growing up involved one party outwitting the other and climbing the ranks and power, at least until ambition beyond their means lead to their downfall. Cleverness, ruthlessness, and deviousness were all traits that were to be admired and sought after. Betrayals and taking advantage of others were both seen as legitimate tactics, so long as no breaking of laws, oaths, or contracts could be traced back to you. They'd never sat well with Tot.

A story that emphasized compassion and gratitude was foreign to Tot's experience until she came to Varisia, and even now she finds them strange. She listens, enraptured as she pictures the story in her mind. Then her amazement chases all thoughts from her head as the butterflies are released. Thousands of them dancing and twirling this way and that as they rise up into the sky a riot of color. She stares up at where the swarm disappeared as the butterflies scattered as she tries to recall every detail as vividly as she can and burn them into her mind. Perhaps she can find some time to paint if she stays here.

Hearing the others talking about lunch brings her back to the present. She doesn't see Izzy with the three men planning to get lunch, and wonders where she got off to when her stomach loudly growls to protest its current emptiness. Her cheeks flush as her eyes dart around to see if anyone heard the rumbling of her hunger over the general din of the crowd. Not wanting to give her gut cause to voice its wants again, she scurries after the others, figuring it will be good to see what she'll have to match as far as skill.

She just hopes the others don't mention her growling stomach.

As the rest of the group makes their way to the Rusty Dragon, they quickly find that they are far from the only people in town eating lunch there - it's already more or less full by the time the group gets there. At the table where they sat earlier that morning, there are still six seats left, the other two taken up by an old man telling tall tales to a fascinated merchant from the caravan. "...an' when they came in the morning and found 'im, 'is whole face were bleached white as bone, it were!" Ameiko moves to and fro between the tables, bringing out trays of delicious curry-spiced salmon and tankards of winterdrop mead - noticing the motley group, she nods to them, though she seems too busy to stop and chat. The food is delicious, the savory taste of the salmon contrasting well with the sweet mead, and it seems that most of the town has tried to make their way to the Rusty Dragon if they can.

Garen eats his salmon while sharing small talk with the others. He finds the curry not to his liking but he notes that most of the room seem to find it delicious. He does find appreciation for the mead however and makes a mental note to ask for the recipe.

The the assembled caravaners he asks, "Once we eat, what say we hit the streets to see what the festival has to offer?"

Izzy actually starts to smile at what she overhears, These folk aren't so bad... most of em anywho. I think I like this town. I'll have to look after Zorlen... but first...

After the crowd disperses, Izzy homes in on the man who spoke for the theater, cornering him as he descends from the podium. He notices the diminutive gnome moving towards him, extending a hand in greeting. "Cyrdak Drokkus. How can I help you, miss..."

She bows with a flourish then takes the hand to shake it with delight, "Isidiana 'Izzy D' Gimblewabe, formerly of Whistledown. I hope the name rings a bell? When I first heard of the Sandpoint Theatre, a place said to rival those of much larger cities, I sent a missive to you requesting an audition. Alas, it may have gotten lost, for I never received a response from you regarding the same." She pumps the hand a few more times then realizes she needs to let it go, and does so "I am a skilled singer, fine on the violin, and not bad at comedy."

Erridon enjoys the food and mead but watches the room. Ameiko obviously has things under control, but maybe she could use a little help?

Once he finishes he takes his plate and mug to the back and asks, "Ameiko, The food and drink were delicious as usual. Could you use a little help? I don't know how to cook, but I can at least clean some dishes for you."

Grod stands toward the back of the crowd, leaning on his axe, planted head-down in the ground in front of him like a very martial cane. It's easy to see over most of the townsfolk. He nods along with the speeches, mostly bored, but pays attention when Father Zantus speaks. Desna isn't really his cup of tea, but he tries not to be irreverent when a priest speaks. I should talk to him, when I get the chance. Grod thinks. Butterflies aren't really his thing either, but he nods appreciatively when they're released. As the crowd breaks up, he snakes his way over to the priest. When the old man has a moment, Grod flags him down. "Excuse me, father. I am a warrior-priest of Gorum, just come to town with the caravan." he says, gesturing in the general direction it had come from. "I know the Lord in Iron isn't one of the deities your cathedral honors, but is there a space I can use to hold a service for him, if any others here wish to attend? It needn't be anything grand, a simple bare patch of ground will do."

Tot eats in silence as she listens to the chatter going on around her. Being the first time she's had curry, she finds that she likes the spice, and it pairs well with the mead. She wants to ask for seconds, but seeing how busy Ameiko is, she finds herself following Erridon's lead.

"I--I c-can help," she stammers after Erridon makes his offer.

Perception (Just trying to pick up on what's going on): 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (11) + 7 = 18

Zorlen nods as Erridon complements Ameiko on the food. "I agree. I haven't had your cooking in so long, I almost forgot how tasty it can be. I didn't realise how much I was missing it until now." He follows his lead as well and takes his own plate to the back.

"I'd like to help, too, if you'd let me. I'm not really much of a cook, especially not when compared to Tot here, who got us some amazing meals on the trip from Magnimar. But I can help clean up, too. Even have some magic to help make it quicker, if you're okay with that. Finally put all that studying to good use!" He says with a chuckle.

Seeing half the group wander to the back, Garen shrugs and heads out to see what the festival has to offer.

"Rogors? You don't remember Zorlen? He's been away for a few years but he's kind of hard to forget!"

Erridon smiles back to Ameiko. "My folks would be upset with me if I didn't do what I can to help." He immediately does what he can to help clean, serve and clean/dry dishes and stack them so they can be filled again.

Perception: 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26

Profession (Cook): 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (20) + 6 = 26 Hot dang! We are so going to pay for this later. That's the second time I've rolled a nat-20 right after someone else did it.

Also, sorry Garen! Tot's trying to get employed here.

Tot nods and takes a few minutes go upstairs to wash off the dirt of the road and change. A busy kitchen is no place for swords, so she only keeps her dagger on her. Her armor and the rest of her weaponry stays in her room. After being quickly told where everything is and how to fix the curried salmon, Tot gets to work.

While her cooking during the trip from Magnimar was as good as the others say, it's far from her best, and wanting to impress Ameiko enough that the innkeeper hires her, she pushes her fears and doubts aside and focuses on the task at hand. There's little sign of her customary timidity as she works like a golem until Ameiko breaks her out of the fugue state she'd fallen into.

Not sure Izzy gets to make the local roll but just in case. Knowledge Local: 1d20 + 7 ⇒ (17) + 7 = 24

And Izzy comes to the Rusty Dragon, possibly bumping into Garen on his way out if she does she says "Salutations! Glorious day"

Erridon does his best to keep up with the work. He's in and out of the kitchen, cleaning tables, greeting and serving as people sit down, and cleaning dishes. Grabbing a couple plates from Tot he sniffs the food and smiles. "Smells great Tot! I heard people call you Tot. Is that OK? Wait. You said earlier that it was OK...." He heads back out to the tables to serve the plates before Tot might have a chance to answer. He did leave with a smile though.

Perception: 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (20) + 3 = 23

Another one? We're going to be missing everything on our first combat, aren't we?

Zorlen knows he's not fit to be dealing with customers, so he leaves that to Erridon and instead stays at the back, making absolutely sure everything is as clean and tidy as can be, using his magic to help keep the plates as spotless as possible.

As he works, he steals a glance at Tot and can't help but smile at the sight of the previously nervous girl so engrossed in her work.

"I think Ameiko just found herself a new cook." He whispers to Erridon as he comes back inside. "She'd be a fool not to hire her on the spot with how the food's turning out, don't you think?"

"Smells great Tot! I heard people call you Tot. Is that OK? Wait. You said earlier that it was OK...." He heads back out to the tables to serve the plates before Tot might have a chance to answer. He did leave with a smile though.

"Tot's fine," the diminutive cook answers. "It's my name, after--" She looks up and wonders if she just imagined Erridon complimenting her cooking and asking if he could call her Tot. She shrugs and gets back to work, though she does wear a small smile through the rest of the lunch rush.

"Salutations to you little one. I'm headed out to see what the fair has to offer. I'll see you all later this afternoon or early evening. Some of the others have gone to the back perhaps to help the innkeeper." Garen says to the spritely bard.

Erridon pauses as he hears Zorlen's whisper. "I agree. And she seems more confident while she's cooking."

"She's got cute freckles. Will they go away when she grows up? Wait. That's a stupid question. Forget that I asked." He leaves for the kitchen quickly and gets busy washing dishes.