Pietro Vanizzi's page

D'oh! Forgot Sneak Attack damage, sorry GM (and thanks for rolling it for me).

Pietro curls his lip in disgust at the sight of the goblin's foul blood on his blade...but time enough for such niceties later. "To battle! Lead on, Khalad!"

He follows directly after Khalad toward the loudest commotion, looking for an opportunity to flank whatever enemies may be found and get SA damage with his rapier.

"You dare, vermin?" Pietro leaps to his feet and lunges deftly with his rapier at the monstrous little thing.

Perception check 1d20 + 3 ⇒ (15) + 3 = 18
Initiative 1d20 + 6 ⇒ (5) + 6 = 11

Attack roll 1d20 + 4 ⇒ (12) + 4 = 16
Damage 1d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 3

The distracted gnome pauses from his note-taking and glances down at his right hand. "You know, I've never really thought about it," Gimble muses. "But now that I think about it, butterflies do usually land on my hand every year during the Swallowtail Festival. And I've always wished to travel the world, like my uncle, Dimbleshanks Boddynock. Did you know that he is a famous Pathfinder? Maybe I am favored by the goddess! I should talk to that priest, Father Zantus. I bet he could tell me more about Desna's religion!" The excited young gnome pulls out (you guessed it!) yet ANOTHER piece of parchment and begins drawing sketches of his birthmark, making a list of questions to ask the priest of Desna when he gets a chance.

"Most fascinating!" Pietro exclaims. "I am certain that conversation with Father Zantus would prove enlightening, but I have been a follower of the Song of the Spheres for my entire life. I would be happy to answer your questions, if you like."

"There was a series of murders. Some of the more superstitious called the killer 'Chopper,' since that's how they found the victims. It was discovered to be a local craftsman. He died when they tried to capture him. There's not really anything more to discuss." Yelena turns back to her food.

Pietro looks momentarily abashed at having raised such a potentially sore topic. "Please forgive me, I certainly did not mean to bring up such a dark topic on a day of celebration such as this one." He takes a long pull from his mug of Winterdrop to hide his embarrassment.

The studious gnome pulls out another piece of parchment and begins to record the details regarding the temple fire and the ‘Late Unpleasantness.’ As Gimble hastily writes, Pietro notices that a birthmark in the shape of a butterfly covers the back of the diminutive scholar’s right hand.

Wishing to change the subject, Pietro remarks, "Gimble, my new friend, that mark on your hand. Are you marked with the favor of Desna, by chance?"

The gnome pauses in his writing as he turns to the group. “Can you believe the number of swallowtail butterflies that they released from that cage?” he asks enthusiastically. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen so many butterflies before! I mean, we celebrate the Swallowtail Festival back home in Sipplerose, but we’ve never had anything as exciting as this! And did you see those Varisians dancing the xopach? I’ve been traveling with them for the past few months, and their skill at dancing still amazes me! They are such a fascinating and friendly people!”

Pietro offers a courteous greeting to Gimble, but after the gnome's last comment, he mutters something that sounds like "Most of them, anyway..."

”Yep…..first time here. You??”

Pietro replies, "Indeed, I have just arrived myself. Some traders on the road told me that there would be a magnificent celebration in this town for the Swallowtail Festival...something or another about the new temple. I'm enjoying myself, of course, but I'm as likely as not to set off down the road again once the festivities have ended. We'll see how The Great Dreamer leads me."

Pietro pauses for a moment after dropping this reference to Desna into the conversation, hoping the revelation will engender more respectful talk from the others nearby.

"Say, what happened to the old temple, anyway?" Pietro then asks casually of the locals.

Pietro happily accepts the mug of good ale, flashing his winningest smile at Bethana, then in Ameiko's general direction. He returns Torillan's nod, and greets Rogar in friendly fashion. "Pietro is my name. Are you also a stranger to Sandpoint then?"

She accidentally bumps into a rather large and brightly tattooed young fellow. Turning around she recognizes the former Sandpoint resident, "Khalad, you rascal! When did you get back in town? I could have sworn you would never come back here. It's good to see that acne cleared up." She takes a helping of the curried salmon from Ameiko and holds the plate near her chest. Briefly concentrating, she whispers a few words and makes furtive movements with her free hand. Small, neatly cut pieces of salmon float smoothly up to her mouth where she bites them out of the air.

Pietro looks at the...unusual...young woman, his expression equal parts curiosity and unease. Still, he smiles at the unique method of eating she displays.

"Did you see those butterflies they released? Good waste of protein, right there. I always thought Desna was too fickle and flighty."

At this seemingly offhand remark, however, the young Varisian's ears redden and his expression darkens. Not wanting to pick a fight by himself in a strange town, he simply turns away and looks for another local delicacy to try. But it's clear he is not best pleased to hear Desna spoken of in such a manner.

'Everything!' Khalad grins at the sharply attired Varisian man.

'But start with one of these,' he indicates the curry-spiced salmon among the food presented by the Rusty Dragon's staff.

'Then I'm thinking venison from the White Deer, the Hagfish has lobster chow, but I don't really like shellfish,' he makes a face then smiles.

'You can join me on my tour of food if you'd like stranger! My name is Khalad.'

He wipes one giant hand on the breeches beneath his hide greaves and offers it to the Varisian.

"Pietro Vanizzi," comes the reply with a grin revealing very white teeth behind the neatly-trimmed black gotee. Pietro accepts the much larger man's handshake without hesitation.

"Don't mind if I do." Pietro reaches out and grabs a plate of the Rusty Dragon's salmon. "Mmm, that's divine," he says after the first bite. "So, Khalad, you don't look like you're from around here. Just in town for the festival?"

Pietro wanders the Sandpoint square, allowing himself a small grin despite himself, at the abundant numbers of fellow Varisians, and their obvious enthusiasm for dancing, singing, and boisterous merry-making. At least these kindred souls don't know me, or where I've come from. Thank Desna for small favors.

Pietro makes no effort to hide his heritage, if his very traditional garb is any indication. He wears a silk scarf of bright blue around his neck, embroidered with images of red and yellow butterflies, to mark the occasion. His loose-fitting, cream colored shirt contrasts with his tight black pants and calf-high, supple brown boots. A golden hoop adorns his left ear.

The young Varisian spends some time hanging near the edges of the crowds, taking in the sights, the sounds, and the smells. It's as though a part of himself wants nothing more than to let himself go, join in the festivities with wild abandon...yet, he just can't bring himself to do it. He watches the cloud of Swallowtails fill the sun-dappled afternoon sky, hoping that mayhap one might land on him; a sign of favor from Desna that he has come here for a purpose.

Realizing that he is hungry after his long overland trip down the Lost Coast to Sandpoint, Pietro decides that he had better take advantage of the free fare offered by the local eateries. Making his way over to the food tables, he stands near a huge, strong-looking man covered in blue tattoos. "Err, pardon me, friend. What would you recommend to eat around here?"

Striking up a conversation with Khalad, obviously.

Pietro is a charming Varisian wanderer, outcast from his clan after being wrongly accused in the death of a romantic rival. He has come to Sandpoint to honor his goddess, Desna, at the Swallowtail Festival.