As Etellio goes about the work, he turns towards Grael - a look of puzzled wonder upon his face,"Is it metal perhaps? A pouch maybe? How did you discover that...?"
"In any case, be careful - they may be weapons."
"Yes, it is metal. I'll have a look." Grael bends down and takes one of the scarves.
Szaranoth does not see, that Targ was wounded and follows Ingowil to the other side of the roof. "Are these boots magical?" he asks her. "Perhaps we can track that?
Szaranoth does not see, that Targ was wounded and follows Ingowil to the other side of the roof. "Are these boots magical?" he asks her. "Perhaps we can track that?
"I have no idea." Ingowil says. "They might be magic, but I have no idea how you would track it."
"Well, should we take these guys in, or follow our friends across the rooftops? Or maybe just get a beer?"
"Hmmm...I don't know what's...maybe we split our tasks - except maybe the beer part..," Etellio adds with a smile.
He directs his attention to Targ, but speaks loudly enough so that they both hear him.
"What if I seek out the Sheriff, or maybe a guardsman, for further help - you keep an eye on them until I get back, and Grael heads up top to let Ingowil and Szaranoth know what's going on - see if there's anything they he can do. Just my thinking..."
For Radavel:
Did I find anything interesting while disarming/checking our three captives - or is that too much to do in the span of time?
"Oh, I'll watch 'em all right. Sounds like a plan."
Targ makes sure the Varisians are tightly trussed, then reloads his crossbow with another bolt.
"See if you can be bring me back a beer along with the Sheriff, eh Etellio?"
"Grael, sound alright by you?"
Etellio makes his way back into the square, hoping to find either a guardsman to assist or the Sheriff himself - assuming he doesn't have to make his way back to the garrison/jail to get someone.
In any case, "Hello sir...name's Etellio...I and my friends were hired on to assist with the festival."
"We are need of some assistance...as we've had to capture three thugs after they attempted to attack us...I'd be happy to explain the details...but only one of us is currently able to guard them. Like'd to see if I can get some help getting them to the jails...since I don't know what your rules are for suspected criminals."
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For Etellio
For Szaranoth and Ingowil
For Grael and Targ
For Etellio
Gruenar nods as he just received a correct answer.
“Alright, Etellio. Relax, we are on the same side. Now while I call for men, can you describe to me who attacked you?”
For Radavel and Targ:
Spellcraft (Minus any penalty for blindness)1d20+6=22
For Radavel and Szaronoth
Ingowil /Radavel:
Szaranoth begins to go down back into the shop to give his thanks to the shopkeeper.
For Radavel:
"Sure, Gruenar."
Etellio describes the men, as they were named - Alek & Ilys - fishermen & Drigo - Glassworks laborer. They all appear to be Varisian, with the traditional scarves and tatoos (don't know if we actually noticed that,though). He then mentions Babu, the fortune teller:
"I'm afraid to admit that there was a 4th member - another Varisian. The fight truly began when he pulled a knife and managed to stab Targ, the dwarven fellow in our patrol. Babu was shot by a crossbow bolt and killed in the scuffle. I'd say it was self-defense - we were only going to bring them in for questioning up to that point."
I will explain how we were chasing a pickpocket that stole Ingowil's purse. That these men acted as a ruse to delay us while the real thief got away - apparently by magical means. They initially surrendered, but when two of our number went to investigate the thief's escape - I guess they figured they might make a break for it with only 3 of us present.
For Radavel:
Etellio leads the way back to alleyway - stopping only briefly if he can get near a stand that sells beer, or maybe a someone offering mugs as we pass. ;-)
Grael still looks shaken. "Dead...", he murmurs.
Targ accepts the mug of ale from Etellio, and gulps it down with a hearty sigh. "Ah, thanks, Etellio. Yer a lifesaver, ya are."
He gestures at the Varisian men. "Here they are, men. You wouldn't happen to know if the militia has a subsidized healing plan?" He shows the militiamen the hole in his chain shirt.
"Glad I could help your "recovery", Targ," Etellio says with a wink.
If he hadn't been able to earlier, Etellio will take a moment to cover the dead man with the curtain before rejoining teh rest. "Desna guiase, campisi," he utters.
Radavel:
I have a couple of adjustments for questions in discussion thread.
Ingowil looks around at the scene. "Well, it looks like you three were busy while we were gone."
Ingowil looks around at the scene. "Well, it looks like you three were busy while we were gone."
"So we were. By the way, I think the thief escaped over the wall." His speech is flat and broken, and his eyes are hollow. "Targ--he killed the fortune teller. He killed him."
Ingowil looks around at the scene. "Well, it looks like you three were busy while we were gone."
"So--so we were. I think the thief escaped. He climbed up the wall. Dead, dead, dead..." He seems to be in shock.
"Would someone tell the blind guy about the hole in my chest, and point out that he was trying to kill me? This is real life, Grael, and real death. And I ain't throwin' away my life so some scum-suckin' pig gets to keep his."
"Grael, those things can and will happen, if you are doing guard duty. If have seen some bad things during my times, but luckily I have not been forced to kill someone myself. I am not looking forward to it, but I will do the best I can, when the time comes, and will worry about the consequences later. On the bright side... we are alive, and we know the missing culprit used magic shoes... perhaps we can still find him."
"Grael, those things can and will happen, if you are doing guard duty. If have seen some bad things during my times, but luckily I have not been forced to kill someone myself. I am not looking forward to it, but I will do the best I can, when the time comes, and will worry about the consequences later. On the bright side... we are alive, and we know the missing culprit used magic shoes... perhaps we can still find him."
"Are...are you certain they w--were shoes? Could he not be a m-mage?" Grael still looks shaken. "I-I am sorry that I react this way, I've never...seen someone killed..."
"Are...are you certain they w--were shoes? Could he not be a m-mage?" Grael still looks shaken. "I-I am sorry that I react this way, I've never...seen someone killed..."
"It is possible they were magical shoes...based on what you have said. Although I don't discount the fact that they might be spells he was using (or had had cast upon him)."
"I am skeptical it was a mage...probably more of a sorcerous type...Varsians tend to have a knack for quick magics, not trained studies,...moreso if he's also a master thief..." Etellio's voice seems to drift some; and his eyes glaze slighly in thought while a wry grin is apparent upon his face.
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The party rounds up the Varisians and brings them to the garrison. There is something very satisfying in seeing the miscreants locked up like the animals that they are.
The Sheriff shows up, his demeanor dour. "Well done, deputies. It seems that someone just attempted to set up but got his foot shot instead." Turning to Ingowil, "It's unfortunate that you lost your purse over this incident. Fortunately, once these guys have been tried part of the fine that they'd be paying would be given to you as reparation. Just remember to log your claim with the court."
Then as if remembering something, the Sheriff adds, "You made an enemy this early on in your career here. I'd advise you to watch your back. The festival has brought in a lot of new faces, who knows where trouble will come from. Now off with you. Rest and be back for the sunset ceremony at the church. Dismissed."
Ingowil looks around, obviously at a loss of what to do next now that their task was over. "So...Are we going to go to the Rusty Dragon now, or what?" She says to the others.
Etellio lingers briefly to talk with the Sheriff:
"Sir, if you don't mind and don't think its important, I'd like to take the Harrow deck the dead man was using for the con game. I'm considering giving them as an offering to Desna during the festival."
"I'm certainly up for a round of drinks before we come back down here for the sunset ceremony..on me...which means it's on the sheriff," Etellio says with a wink.
"Made some enemies today," he mumbles - pondering who he could mean...and concluding that it must be the Sczarni and their thuggery to which he refers.
To the sheriff, Targ asks, "Does the church provide healing for the militia, by any chance? I took a dagger to the ribs back there."
And to Ingowil: "The Rusty Dragon sounds like a good next stop to me. Hells, I'll even buy you an ale, seeing as how you lost your purse."
"Anyone want to give them temple a visit? If not, I'll see you back at the Rusty Dragon."
Targ waits to see if anyone will accompany him, then heads to the Sandpoint Cathedral in search of Father Zanthus.
"Sure, I'll join you, Targ...there's a short task there I'd like to get done." Assuming that there's a shrine to Desna at or near the cathredal.
"Sure, I'll join you, Targ...there's a short task there I'd like to get done." Assuming that there's a shrine to Desna at or near the cathredal.
"I'll come too." Ingowil says, not wanting to be left behind.
"I also wanted to show Desna some devotion today. To thank her for my rescue from the sea. I'll come with you."
"Coming, Grael? You can pray for my soul's forgiveness. To the temple then, and thence back to the inn for some ale and a rest."
Targ unloads his crossbow, slings it on his back, and heads in the direction he thinks the temple is in.
"Coming, Grael? You can pray for my soul's forgiveness. To the temple then, and thence back to the inn for some ale and a rest."
Targ unloads his crossbow, slings it on his back, and heads in the direction he thinks the temple is in.
"I'll go to the temple, though I'm not a religious man. There's something I always wanted to know, and the temple may be the best place to do it."
Etellio gives a reassuring slap on the back to Grael.
"That's a good man...we'll have Desna's blessing to help us with any further troubles."
An eager smile crosses his face, and he urges his new comrades to get moving to the church.
As they go along, he'll perform a trick or two for passing children - a coin behind the ear; a paper butterfly pops from his sleeve; etc.
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You leave the presence of the Sheriff confident that the miscreants who assaulted your group would face justice soon enough. You walk through the streets of Sandpoint and admire the gaily colored decorations put up by the residents of Sandpoint. Tourist mingle freely with the townsfolk. The Swallowtail Festival is a success.
A few minutes of walking and you find yourself standing before Sandpoint's new church whose inauguration is being celebrated today. Constructed of stone, the people of Sandpoint dearly wish that no repeat of its predecessor's fiery destruction will happen again.
The stained glass windows of the church proclaim the divine majesty of Sandpoint's patron deities: Desna, Abadar, Sarenrae, Shelyn, Gozreh and Erastil.
An acolyte dressed in humble robes meet you at the entrance. "Welcome. I am Brother Martyn. May I be of assistance?"
"Greetings, Brother! We are working on behalf of the Sheriff today, and was wondering if you might provide some healing aid to our dwarven comrade here..."
He gestures towards his Targ with this statement.
"I would also like to know how I go about giving a token of thanks to the shrine of Desna?"
He then turns towards the rest of the party...uncertain if they have anything to add...
Grael starts rummaging through his pockets. "An offering...need an offering..."
"Yes, Sheriff Hemlock told me to ask for Father Zantus. We're deputies in the militia. And I believe most of us would like to make offerings of some sort."
"Yes, Sheriff Hemlock told me to ask for Father Zantus. We're deputies in the militia. And I believe most of us would like to make offerings of some sort."
"Not if I have no offering to give", hisses Grael. "Typical. The most important prayer I could ever make, and I have no offering. Is there anyplace where I could get something suitable? I'm afraid my knowledge of religion is sadly limited."
"If you are offering your sincere thanks to Desna, because you have nosuitable material component at hand. That should be no rpoblem. Just promise to give the temple something later together with your prayer should do the trick." Szaranoth sighs... "I am thanking her for saving my life. And I will give half of my money to this temple as an offering. Perhaps you can promise half of your next monetary windfall to her..."
Szaranoth seeks a place where one can devote his prayers to the goddess of travel and thanks Desna wholeheartedly for saving his life from certain death beneath the waves of the Varisian Gulf.
"I can do better than promise half. I am not poor. I inherited a sizable sum from my uncle. "Perhaps an overly large sum, but I want my question answered."
Grael finds a place to pray, and murmurs something.
For DM:
"Not if I have no offering to give", hisses Grael.
"Be at ease, Grael...I'm no priest, but I think this clergyman can reaffirm...Desna is a goddess of dreams and visions...I think she'd welcome prayers from one such as you." Etellio gives reassuring tap to the blind-man.
"For myself, I have no coin to give, Brother...but as a traveler I wish to give my thanks. I have this Harrow deck - a tool of prophecy among Varisians and one I think she would appreciate to have it used properly by someone gifted by her grace."
Etellio pulls the deck in hopes of giving it to the priest as his offering.
"I don't believe that the previous owner was a true fortune-teller; or at least was using his talents in the way she would have wanted. I hope this is consiered acceptable on this celebration day."
"Not if I have no offering to give", hisses Grael."Be at ease, Grael...I'm no priest, but I think this clergyman can reaffirm...Desna is a goddess of dreams and visions...I think she'd welcome prayers from one such as you."
Grael looks sorrowful. "She might, but...well, some have suggested that my gifts...don't come from the Light."
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Brother Martyn smiles. "Please follow me." He leads you through the newly built church to an inner courtyard. "Please wait here. I shall inform Father Zantus you are here."
The inner courtyard is a beautiful place. The various exotic plants surround seven standing stones, themselves surrounding a circular stone altar. There is an aura of peace here. But also one of power.
Later, Brother Martyn returns with a man who can only be Father Zantus. "The peace of Desna be upon you. I am Father Zantus. Brother Martyn tells me that you are deputies and that the Sheriff has sent you."