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Wealday, 30 Erastus, 4707 AR
A gentle wind blows in from the sea dispelling the heat of the afternoon sun that has settled in the town of Sandpoint. But the people of Sandpoint do not mind the heat as they happily work decorating their town in preparation for tomorrow’s Swallowtail Festival, a celebration to mark the completion of their new church.
It has taken five years to complete that edifice and the effort was not wasted. The largest building in Sandpoint, the new church houses not only one but six different faiths. It is intended as a communal forum for the worshippers of Desna, Abadar, Sarenrae, Shelyn, Gozreh and Erastil, which is proclaimed in the various stained glass windows of the new church. There, one can see the golden key symbol of Abadar, the cityscape carved into its head. Opposite it is the ankh-like angel symbol of Sarenrae, its arms outstretched. In another window, the songbird symbol of Shelyn is also visible. The butterfly of Desna, the arrow and antlers of Erastil and the leaf of Gozreh also stand prominent in their respective windows. No expense has been spared to make this house of worship the most impressive structure in Sandpoint.
The new church’s dedication is going to be a momentous religious and historical event. From as far away as Magnimar, they have come and Sandpoint is experiencing an economic boom, attracting tourists, businessmen, warriors, pilgrims, entertainers and other people.
Surely, Sandpoint has been blessed by the gods.
To Ingowil and Targ:
You have met each other on the road and being warriors you have easily found each other's company welcome.
You shake the dust of the road off your person, as you arrive in the late afternoon in the town of Sandpoint. You see that people are busy hanging gaily colored streamers on various structures.
A man wiping the sweat from his brow sees you and merrily greets you, “Hail strangers! You are here for tomorrow’s Swallowtail Festival, yes? The Rusty Dragon over there should still have some rooms left. But be quick. A lot of people have come for the festival and even the White Deer is near bursting.”
To Szaranoth:
You sit by one corner of the common room of the Rusty Dragon, the inn where the kind-hearted people of Sandpoint billeted you after they fished you out of the sea this morning. The warmth from the fireplace giving contrast to the chill the cold waters of the sea has instilled in your bones.
A female halfling by the name of Bethana Corwin lays down a small cup of hot bitter java before you, “Compliments of my mistress, Master Szaranoth.”
"Thank you, sir," says Ingowil to the man, "we will go at once." She walks to the Rusty Dragon, looking at all of the decorations. "Have you ever had a festival in your home town?" she asks Targ.
"Thanks for the advice, friend. We've been on the road long enough, and I for one don't relish the thought of sleeping in a stable now that I'm finally back in civilization. And no, I'm not here for the festival. What is a 'Swallowtail Festival'?"
"Yeah, we've got festivals back home, but nothing quite like...this." Targ looks around critically at the brightly colored decorations.
Szaranoth looks over to the bar, to find the lady, that gave him this drink, that will fill his body again with warmth and chase away the tiredness. "Please, give my thanks to your lady." he says to the small serving wench. He nods to this yet sole benefactor of this otherwise so lousy lousy day and smiles. His hands cradle the mug and feel the heat seeping through them frozen bones. A shiver runs across his body as he lifts the drink to his mouth and sips the steaming liquid. Then he leans back and sighs.
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To Ingowil and Targ:
To Szaranoth:
"More good advice. And food and entertainment will do me as much good as a clean bed."
Targ accompanies Ingowil to the Rusty Dragon to find a room for the night.
Ingowil walks into the Rusty Dragon, sits at the bar, and orders some ale and a room for the night.
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To Ingowil and Targ:
The female halfling immediately puts aside her chore and greets Ingowil and Targ, “Welcome to the Rusty Dragon. Would you be requiring rooms for the night, sir? Madam?”
Hearing Ingowil’s desire for a room and some ale, the halfling ushers her and Targ to the bar.
The halfling places two mugs of ale in front of Ingowil and Targ.
To Szaranoth:
Before Szaranoth could get a chance to ask the halfling, he hears the door of the inn open and see two weary travelers. One is a male dwarf, while the other is a female human. They both have the deadly swagger of warriors.
Bethana immediately greets them and ushers them to the bar. The halfling efficiently draws two mugs of ale for the newcomers.
To all: The halfling asks Ingowil, “Madam, that would be two rooms, yes?”
"Many thanks," Targ says to the halfling as he takes the proffered mug of ale. He goes over to a nearby table and sit downs with a loud sigh, then removes his helmet and drops it on the table. He raises the flagon and drains nearly half of it, finishing with an even louder sigh. Targ stretches out his legs and takes a look around.
Targ looks like a typical dwarf, with brown skin and close-cropped brown hair. His beard appears to be dyed red, and is separated into strands tied together in a complicated knot. His mustache currently sports a second mustache of ale foam.
He's wearing a chain shirt, and the large axe, heavy crossbow, and Shoanti klar he is carrying would seem to mark him as a warrior. He's also wearing a belt around his waist that appears to be decorated with some kind of...teeth.
Szaranoth finishes his coffee, stands up from the table and brings the mug over to the bar.
Szaranoth is of medium height (just a little tad on the high side... 5'5") with a powerful build and never without a warm and quick smile. Close cropped black hair, green eyes, fine-lined moustache frame his square features. His clothes are a bit washed out and still look crumpled and wet and his hair is very unruly.
"I've noticed, that you're busy, Bethana, but I am also in need for a room for the night... and for some work to pay for my room." He points to the sign at the bar. "I have been employed as bodyguard... previously.... before I had to... emm, before my voyage..." He looks about him, if anyone has caught up with his blunder, and eyes the new traveller standing with him at the bar. "You don't come by chance from Riddleport? Do you?" A smile flickers over his face.
Szaranoth has a medium bariton sonore voice.
"Yes, if you would." Says Ingowil to the lady, then starts on her ale.
At 5'9", Ingowil is tall for a woman, and has an air of constant alertness. She wears her armor and her weapons with great ease, as if she had been wearing them for a long time.
He looks about him, if anyone has caught up with his blunder, and eyes the new traveller standing with him at the bar. "You don't come by chance from Riddleport? Do you?" A smile flickers over his face.
"I'm just wandering through." She says. "I'm lucky to have come in time for a festival. What about you? Do you live here?"
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Remembering something, Bethana stops and tells Szaranoth that, "The Sheriff is looking for a deputy on account of the large number of people coming for the festival. He'll be here later. I'll introduce you to him. Qualifying for the job is easy. The Sheriff is looking for a person of sufficient moral fiber." Bethana then turns and walks out of the common room.
"That isn't clear, yet... as I have arrived on the shore this very morning." says Szaranoth to the warrior woman in front of him and points to his wet clothes. "I guess I will need a job to earn either a passage to elsewhere or a living here. I will have a look at this town during the festival to make up my decision."
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To Soujiro: Shadows cling to Soujiro's lithe form as he gracefully walks along the path to the Rusty Dragon. According to the talk he overheard, the inn serves the finest food in town. At the thought of food, Soujiro's stomach rumbles. Tis evident that he hasn't eaten for a while.
Soujiro opens the door of the dragon ornamented inn and walks into the common room. Soujiro sees three people inside. A male dwarf, a female human and a male human. First two are clearly warriors. The last one -- a mystery.
With a cocky grin, Soujiro confidently walks to the bar. He taps the bar, "Service, please. Halfling needs feeding here."
The people in the common room sees an unarmored halfling wearing a black robe. On his back is strapped a backpack, a sword, a bow and a quiver of arrows. For those who have sharp eyes, they can see scars peering out of the robes' neckline. It seems this halfling has lived a very harsh life.
He speaks with an almost child-like voice.
"Arrived on shore? What did you do, swim here? From Riddleport, did you say? If that's true, and if there's a good story to go along with it, your next drink is on me."
Szaranoth walks over to the table where the dwarf is sipping his beer.
"Okay, I will tell you my story, though I do not know, if it qualifies for a drink. Btw. Szaranoth Luquistane is my name."
He waits one or two moments if some of the other guests might join, before he sits down.
"Have a seat, Szaranoth." Targ kicks a chair out from under the table. "I'm Targ the Unwieldy. So let's hear all about swimming here from Riddleport.
"Barmaid! Some ale, if you please!"
Szaranoth takes up the offer made by the dwarf. He sits down at the table, takes a deep breath looking around if everyone can also listen.
"First, I did not come from Riddleport. And second, I did not swim the whole way."
He takes a sip from his tankard and revels a bit in the pause building up to the beginning of his story.
"The ship I was travelling on had Riddleport as its destination, and it wasn't in the best of conditions. One night I woke up during heavy sea, and there was a hole in the cabin wall, something must have rammed the ship, water was frothing into my cabin. I grabbed my gear and managed to get up to the deck, trying to warn the captain about this. But the crew was already in the boats and paddling away from the ship. It sank very fast as if something was dragging it down. I grabbed myself something made of wood and a rope, latched my gear unto it and plunged into the sea. Made my way to the shore, my gear on the plank. It took me more than a day to get to the coast and arrived this very morning. I am lucky to be alive, but Desna must have smiled upon me."
Taking another sip from his tankard Szaranoth leans back into the chair.
"And what fortunes have smiled upon you, that you are here in Sandpoint, Targ?"
Ingowil listens attentively to Szaranoth and Targ while sipping her ale, wanting to learn as much about her companions as possible.
Soujiro takes up the call of the dwarf, "Yes! Barmaid, where have you gotten to! Halfling in dire need of service!"
Addressing the dwarf, "Friend, I see that you are newly arrived as well. Might I join you?"
Turning to the shivering man, "How did you manage to get wet in a fine day like this?"
"But I am getting ahead of myself. I am Soujiro late of Minkai."
Smiling to the leather and steel clad woman, Soujiro talks to her in a husky voice, "How you doing?"
To the halfling, Targ says, "Sure, have a seat."
"As for what's brought me to Sandpoint, I got one word for you: goblins. I been tussling with the buggers in the Fogscars recently, and I heard some talk about the little bastards mixing things up down this way. So I figured this was a good opportunity to get back to civilization, restock some supplies, and maybe add a few more teeth to my belt."
Targ leans back, displaying his belt on which a number of what must be goblin teeth have been sewn. Targ takes another swig of his ale.
"Goblins," he says again, and spits on the floor.
Szaranoth is wating for Bethana to return with the wonderful news, that the rooms would be ready. He is shivering visibly.
"Goblins here in Sandpoint? My dear dwarf, you must be mistaken. Why should these mongrels live in the vicinity of a dwelling such as Sandpoint? Surely, the fine folk here would have driven those goblins away... if there would be any to be found here."
"I'm fine. I wouldn't say no to a meal, though, if that barmaid would ever get over here. How did you come to Sandpoint? Any story worthy of repeating like Szaranoth's?
"I don't mean in Sandpoint itself, but mark my words, there's plenty of places outside and around town where they can lurk. They're like rats - if there're people around, there's goblins on the fringes, muckin' through the garbage and the leavin's. There's goblins about, I tell ya - I can smell the evil little bastards."
Targ spits on the floor again for emphasis.
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To Rilech: The sun has almost set when Rilech arrived at Sandpoint. He wonders not for the first time if Sandpoint was the right choice of destination.
DC 12:
DC 20:
Rilech sees people tidying up as they finish installing decorations on their buildings. One particularly friendly looking man approaches Rilech, "Stranger, if you are in need of lodging, the Rusty Dragon down the street should accomodate you. Also, 'tis the best eatery in town."
"Yes, that would be great." Says Ingowil to the lady. She looks around the inn, searching for interesting-looking people while sipping her ale and listening to her companions.
The sun setting, Rilech drags his tired bones into Sandpoint.
Thank you my good man. I could do with some grub and a place to stay the night.
What's the go with all these decorations? Seems a bit flash for a place such as this.
"Swallowtail Festival you say. Sounds like it could be fun. I'll make sure I check it out." And the free food will help my empty belly as well he thinks to himself.
"Thanks for your help mate" Rilech calls over his shoulder as he heads down the street to the Rusty Dragon.
Arriving at the Rusty Dragon, the patrons inside notice a small, wiry young man slink in and take a seat in a darkened corner, he appears to be doing his best to disappear into the wall behind him.
"I'll take the salmon, too. Thank you, Bethana."
To the others Szaranoth asks: "What about this Swallowtail Festival? They are having a celebration for completing their church? Sounds like one could be having a good time." Szaranoth flashes a quick smile to the others.
"I never heard of the festival, either, but a local told me it was about the church. I'm thinking to head over there and see what's so impressive about it. Maybe make an offering too."
"You know we can all see you, right? Not much of a crowd to blend into here."
"I will definitely give an offering to Desna for saving me from certain death on the sea." Szaranoth is still shivering on his chair, but a warm drink in his guts and the prospect of hot food stops his teeth from chattering.
"We are all new arrivals here. The others will come at sundown. They have too much to do with the preparations for tomorrow."
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Bethana arrives with plates of the house's special. The dish's delicious fragrance almost painful after a long day's march. She places a plate of the dish before Ingowil, Szaranoth, Soujiro and Targ. Thereafter, she notices Rilech, "Greetings and welcome to the Rusty Dragon. We fine food, drink and rooms for the discerning traveler. Come, take a seat and rest your weary feet."
Soujiro quickly devours the plate of food before him, not realizing that a curry dish means a hot dish. He quickly gasps for, "Water! Halfling on fire!"
He without asking for permission he grabs at Targ's mug of ale and quickly drinks all of the contents. He then heaves a sigh of relief. Then Soujiro's realizes he just made a grave mistake and sheepishly apologizes to Targ, "Sorry about that. Next round's on me."
Rilech glances up at the others as they direct their words towards him. He gives a slight hint of acknowledment to their greetings, before turning to the Barmaid, "Thanks. I would like all three, Food, Drink and a Room please."
Targ is feeling a bit expansive, enjoying the comforts of civilization again with his feet up. Pick your battles and all that. He sighs heavily to show his annoyance, but that's all.
"And another ale for me, barmaid. The halfling is paying."
"Just don't make a habit of it."
"Come join us, friend. No need to eat alone in an otherwise empty taproom. And the halfling's buying!"
Szaranoth lets out the deep breath he was holding, when the halfling grabbed the dwarf's tankard... He looks over to Soujiro and shakes his head. "Parting an unwilling dwarf with his beer could result in something similar to a barbarian in rage. I have seen such an incidence in a tavern... and let me say... it ended most brutal. But I will let further decriptions fall under the mantle of modesty at this table, while some of us are still eating." he berates the fast-eating halfling. Szaranoth eats more from his meal and hums a little bit, because the fish and the sauce is delicious. "My compliments to the chef, Bethana. This salmon is excellent. And the sauce... mmmmhhh"
Bethana smiles at Rilech, "Please wait a moment for your room. The inn is almost full to capacity, you see. Take a seat and I'll bring out some food and drink for you."
Thankyou.
"Come join us, friend. No need to eat alone in an otherwise empty taproom. And the halfling's buying!"
Rilech reposnds hesitantly, "Well, if the halfling's buying...." and slowly rises from his seat and moves over to join the Dwarf and his companions at their table.
And so it starts. Just like it always does. I wonder how long it takes until I am the butt of their "jokes" and little more than something for them to push around? I was hoping to be able to make new life here in Sandpoint. Looks like I'll have to leave first thing in the morning. I wonder where I will go now? Well, let's see how this goes. Maybe these guys are different to all the others?
"I guess I'll have another round too, if the halflings buying." Says Ingowil. She takes too her salmon with gusto, hungry after a long day on the road. "How did you all come to Sandpoint?" She askes of the table at large. "I know how Targ and Szaranoth came, but what of the rest of you?"
Targ gratefully takes a swig of his new drink, carefully keeping his fingers curled around the handle.
To Soujiro and the wiry young man, he says, "Well, mates? What're your stories? We're all ears.."
Szaranoth also tries a sip from the new brew, that has arrived.
"Neither from you, young lady. How does it come, that we find you here in dear Sandpoint?"