Though the days still carry the warmth of summer, earlier sunsets, cooler nights and fog shrouded mornings signal the approach of autumn along the Lost Coast, and the citizens of Sandpoint prepare for the Swallowtail festival on the upcoming equinox. The small coastal town bustles with activity as the dawn breaks. The days catch is laid out for the locals to peruse, and merchants and farmers from all around make their way into town to try and profit from the festival crowds.
The festival itself is still two days away, and already the crowds in the market start early, as the dawn descends the face of the Old Light. Many merchants have arrived days ahead of Town Market, hoping to milk every last copper from the masses.
Kinmorn is helping with final preparations at the cathedral, and tending to the needs of the flock. Mitnal is likely at market himself, looking for peace through commerce, perhaps. And Gengar is probably there as well. Temptation is, after all, terribly tempting.
Kinmorn, you've met both Mitnal and Gengar in passing, and know both their names, though whether they remember yours is known only to them. You're also aware that there's a young halfling druid in the area, though you've yet to actually meet him. You're pretty sure he'll be in attendance to see the release of the Swallowtails, and expect to meet him then.
Jessa and Shantare are arriving in Sandpoint just this morning, as part of a larger caravan primarily composed of merchants. Jessa booked passage with the caravan in order to attend the Swallowtail festival, figuring it was as good a place as any to start her Pathfinder journey. She travelled with one other newly minted Pathfinder named Torrick Vey, a self absorbed, arrogant ass of a man, who first tried to get in Jessa's pants, and has been nothing but a colossal prick to her ever since. When he deigns to speak with her at all, that is. Vey is not staying for the Swallowtail festival, but traveling on immediately, heading deep into Storval Plateau to seek his rightful glory.
Shantare joined up with the caravan along the way. She had already been ranging along the Lost Coast, and decided to keep watch on the caravan as it traveled, and attend the Swallowtail festival once in Sandpoint.
Ruano, just when you've arrived in the Sandpoint area, and how often you've visited Sandpoint is up to you.
Kinmorn finished the sweeping around the shrine of Erastil, whistling a hymn to himself. He loved everything about the new Cathedral, but could not help but feel especially proud of this one corner. Soon all would be able to enjoy it as much as he did. He knew that he probably should be more dedicated to the whole of the Cathedral, but he suspected that more than once he has seen Father Zantus pay some special attention to Desna’s shrine. It was only natural for a priest to be zealous in the cause of his god after all.
When the sweeping was done, for he had left Erastil’s shrine till last, Kinmorn took a moment to arrange the quiver of arrows at the base of the altar, all the while mentally calculated his coinage to himself. He had a notion of perhaps setting up his own little table near the Cathedral the day of the festival. An archery contest perhaps or even just handing out arrows to the children. However when he had mentioned arrows to one of the village mother’s that morning however, she had given him a strange look and then said that she wasn’t sure but her son wouldn’t be trying to stab some other child with the new “toy.” Kinmorn felt most of the children would behave responsibly but it would only take a one or two to make trouble. Perhaps a target and some practice arrows would be best then. Only problem was where to set it up.
Father Zantus might have some notions.
Kinmorn took one last look at the shrine and then went to look for the older priest.
Gengar spends the morning and afternoon aimlessly wandering the fetival hotspots. He cheerfully greets anyone who makes eye contact tries to make mental notes about his fellow townsmen.
At midday the dwarf will make his way to the grassy area outside the new cathedral along Church Street. Finding a nice shady tree to sit under Gengar takes out his pipe and lights a smoke. After savoring the moment, watching more and more reveler enter the town, he takes out his block of wood. Aimlessly, he caresses away curled shavings.
Perhaps a target and some practice arrows would be best then. Only problem was where to set it up.
Father Zantus might have some notions.
Kinmorn took one last look at the shrine and then went to look for the older priest.
"But of course, brother. But before you go spending that priest's pittance, see if Naffer Vosk has any straw lying around. Never trust to your coin purse what your body and spirit can accomplish, my friend," he says, breaking into a broad grin. "Unless you're praying to Abadar."
"And while you're at it, tell Savah she's only allowed to charge you for arrows and bows you don't return to her. If she gives you a hard time, tell her I said, 'She'd best behave, or else.' And then tell me what color her face turns when you get back."
Well, there's plenty to be done, and most of the time, the farmers are glad to see you. Larz Rovanky at the tannery seemed to pay about as much attention to you as he did to anyone else he was doing business with that day, but the next time you saw him, he remembered your name without prompting.
There's a lot more traffic through the countryside right now, which is stirring up the local wildlife. You haven't had to deal with anything too out of the ordinary lately, mostly things like badgers, bears and skunks, but you've been hearing stories about goblins, fairies and devils everywhere you go. You have to find any conclusive proof of actual monsters or devils, but the stories are persistent.
Relieved to be finally rid of the caravan, Shantare decides to wander Sandpoint, inspecting the new temple along the way. She walks around, completely bored but deciding that wandering around would be more entertaining than sitting at a bar. Can't they hurry up and get this festival going? She thinks to herself, looking around at the merchants setting up. She sighs, and walks over to the temple.
I sit on one of my blankets my baskets spread out in front of me trying not to feel anger.
Father Idnag told me anger came from fear. But what am I afraid of?
Another winter near the abbey? The priests were kind enough but I should not ask them for so much and give so little.
So, where should I spend the winter. It will be cold soon. It would be wrong to head back to the tribe now. I didn't help with gathering and the hunt for winter so I should not ask for a share of the food.
Sandpoint is busy now, but after the festival will there be enough people to buy my baskets? Magnimar is too big. I would not want to be one of those Shriikirri-Quah who lives off the kindness of strangers in the city. I would soon be like that Sherrif Viskalai-called-Hemlock. One can't even tell what tribe he is from.
Ha. There is Cyrdak of the theater. He always buys a basket. What does he do with them all? And why does he always ask such personal questions?
I can't sit here anymore. I wonder where that helpful dwarf is. He always seems willing to watch my wares while I stretch my legs.
Accepting the hand of a gracious teamster, Jessa shaded her eyes against the morning sun as she stepped down from one of the caravan wagons...
Once on the ground, she thanked the gentleman and took a moment to smooth away the wrinkles of her new scholar's robe. She had purchased the outfit in Magnimar just prior to the trip, but it still didn't fit quite right -- maybe a size too small for her tastes. Even worse, the corset-vest presented a bit too much of herself to the wandering eye. No doubt, one of the reasons that scoundrel Torrick had taken such a liking to her. She drew her cloak more fully around her shoulders to ward off the morning chill...and the off-chance Torrick chose to speak with her again before he left town. Then she followed the teamster to claim her bags.
Blackwing squawked impatiently from his perch atop the wagon. Her raven familiar could just as easily have expressed his desire to explore the town by saying so in the Common tongue, but she discouraged him from doing that. It tended to unsettle people who weren't well-versed in magical beasts. And, having just arrived in Sandpoint, she had no desire to ostracize herself from any social circles just yet.
The bird squawked once more and flapped its wings as she accepted the last of her bags. "Alright then!" she frowned at him, "Off with you! But don't be stirring up any trouble and expect me to get you out of it this time..."
Blackwing eagerly launched himself into the ocean breeze, circling the wagons once before disappearing among the town's small buildings. As Jessa watched him go, her own longing for adventure began to rise as well. The Swallowtail Festival should certainly prove exciting. And, as if that weren't enough, she'd soon begin her research for the Pathfinder Society. She clutched her backpack to her chest, her hands instinctively feeling for the books and parchment on which she'd record her findings.
It was several moments before she realized most of the other passengers had already departed and wandered into the town's marketplace. Feeling foolish, she followed as well. Soon she found herself lost among the shops and stalls. Eventually she caught sight of the new cathedral in the distance, and much like everyone else, felt drawn towards the place.
Walking up Church Street, she emerged in the town square and spotted a familiar face. It was one of the other female passengers from the caravan -- and a rugged woman by the looks of her, carrying such a massive crossbow. She looked to be only a few years older than her perhaps. And Jessa recalled she had joined the caravan somewhere in the middle of its journey and overheard someone refer to her as a ranger of the Lost Coast.
"Well, no better time to make friends than the present, I suppose," Jessa mumbled to herself. Hoisting her pack, she approached the young woman with a timid smile.
"Hello...are you new to Sandpoint, too? We came in on the caravan together. Would you like to explore the town with me? You know, safety in numbers and all. I was hoping to find a place to stay for awhile. What about you? Are you just here for the festival? Or do you have business with the church?"
Kinmorn accepted his superior’s advice with relish. Seeking out the closest target first, he looked for Brother Vosk to see about the straw. That done he made his way to Savah’s armory. Probably best not to start out with veiled threats he mused to himself, thinking with some amusement about how Father Zantus had suggested he approach the armory’s owner.
The interior of the Cathedral was as bright as its many windows allow, but it was brighter still in the streets outside and Kinmorn squinted for a moment as he allowed his eyes to adjust. So many people outside the cathedral already. Soon, hoped Kinmorn, there would be as many within. Just a few short days. Absentmindedly rubbing the silver symbol of Erastil that hung on a chain around his neck, Kinmorn began the short journey down the street to the armory to see what Savah had to say.
Mitnal looks up in the sky as a raven flies over. "Something strange about that bird. He looks clever. Like a totem spirit. What direction is that? North? ... When the Swallowtails are released they will head South. ... That's what I should do! I should follow the swallowtails after the festival."
Blackwing soared across all of Sandpoint, occasionally dipping below the rooftops to silently glide through its narrow streets. He entertained himself by surprising those passing below with either a shrill cry or the feathery brush of his wings. Always on the lookout for shiny baubles or morsels of food, he could tell that Sandpoint would be very much to his liking.
He spotted a shiny pin in the hair of a matronly lady, but she ducked before he could pluck it away. Undaunted, he continued to heckle her from a safe perch on one of the many sign-posts advertising the upcoming Swallowtail Festival. But he moved on when the woman seemed intent on catching him with her cane.
Finally, his wanderings brought him high over an unusual man sitting amongst a variety of intricately woven baskets. They looked positively nest-worthy and Blackwing decided to investigate. Spiralling down, his flight brought him to a soft landing in one of the shallow containers. He proudly stretched his wings to test the basket's roominess, his head bobbing and twisting about to regard its owner with satisfied approval from just a few feet away.
Mitnal gazed at the bird in astonishment as the raven settled into a basket made of fall Mauvegrass and Smokeweed. Of all the baskets spread out before him, this was the only one made of the stems of the sacred plants. Surely this was a totem spirit. What could it want? Had something happened to his tribe? To his family?
Mitnal, following the custom of his people, did not look directly at the totem spirit but at the ground between them. Bowing his head he asked "Why have you come Raven-Father? What can I give you? What do you need?"
Noticing a sonorous rumbling in his tummy, Gengar packs away his wood and pipe and stretches before getting up. He wanders a bit more through the market and samples a few of the delightful foods here and there.
One flamboyant young man begins to throw around his coin like gold is a trivial thing. Gengar follows along a bit until he sees the good captain Belor Hemlock making his rounds. Sighing to himself the little dwarf cuts across the street.
There he sees that odd barbarian, Mintal or Mitnal or whatever, entertaining a bird. Humans never cease to amaze me.
Gengar approaches the basket weaver while waving cheerfully to a lovely young lass obviously staring at his impeccable beard.
Blackwing cocked his head at being addressed directly by Mitnal. Did the odd man somehow know his mistress, Jessa, and therefore understand he was more than a normal raven? He didn't seem like the wizardly type.
The bird flapped its wings once more, unsure of whether to respond, fly away, or settle more comfortably into the basket. 'It was a very nice basket,' he thought, 'What did the man call me? Raven-Father?' Blackwing liked the sound of that. It appealed to his proud nature. Perhaps he should answer him then? After all, Jessa didn't have to know...
"Hungry?" Blackwing finally squawked with a hopeful tone. Maybe the man had some morsel he could con out of him...
Then another movement caught the bird's attention. His head snapped around to regard Gengar's approach. The dwarf had a look about him that appealed to Blackwing like a kindred spirit. So he squawked once in greeting before turning back to Mitnal expectantly.
Mitnal was startled. For his people all animals were part of their animal spirit. So, all ravens were part of the raven father. Some just carried more of the spirit within them. It was not unusual to ask questions to an animal with the hopes that the spirit would somehow give you an answer. But this one spoke! The raven-father must be strong in this one.
He searched his pouch for some of the mushbread he'd been saving for later and set it in one of the smaller baskets before the raven.
From the corner of his eye, Mitnal saw the helpful dwarf coming but for some reason he didn't feel a need to stretch his legs anymore. He felt invigorated.
'Hah! It worked!' Blackwing crowed to himself.
He tentatively hopped from his comfortable new nest and shuffled toward the offered food. The bird spared another glance at Gengar to make sure the dwarf wasn't interested. Then he plucked the mushbread from the small basket and greedily gobbled it down.
"Like!" Blackwing announced shortly after, puffing out his chest and stirring his wings in thanks, "Get more?"
"Did tha' bird just talk?" How much can a talking raven bring...
"Master Basketweaver, good day to ya. I didn't know you had a feathered companion. Any luck today? I know if I had any need for a basket I would consider no other in all of Varisia! Can he say anything else?"
Gengar turns to see if the pretty young lass is still admiring him. Ah, if only she had a proper beard herself...
Mitnal was not sure if the totem-imbued raven would want to share its gift with the dwarf or if the dwarf would even be able to understand its message. Often when a totem-spirited animal speaks to a person of the tribe, he does so discreetly. People of the tribe also do not speak so openly about contact with the totems unless other Shriikirri-Quah get jealous. (A few tribespeople walk between worlds and speak constantly to the totems. These ones must be protected from themselves.)
The raven would choose whether to speak to the dwarf. Mitnal respectfully placed some more mushbread in the basket and turned to greet the dwarf.
What was his name? It was an easy one ... Yes! "Whittler-of-wood," he said "I was hoping you would come. I would like to talk to you about making some solid wood bases for a larger basket. It would need to have some holes around the outside to attach it to the weave."
With the dwarf's sudden interest in him, Blackwing stayed silent. He feared he'd said too much now. Although hungry, he didn't particularly relish upsetting his mistress by drawing curious onlookers. Maybe he should have followed Jessa's advice and just played the part of a normal bird while in Sandpoint?
But he often got bored with that role. It was far too easy to play. And he wanted to be something different -- something interesting -- to lead a more adventuresome life! But not when it complicated things, he supposed. Maybe Jessa was right...
So he quietly regarded the man and the dwarf, casually eavesdropping on their conversation. The mushbread still called to him. So Blackwing took his time enjoying the man's food...ready to swiftly depart at the sign of any sudden movements.
Shantare looks at the woman with a scrutinizing gaze for a moment, then says, "Well, I suppose I could explore with you, It's not like I am doing anything exiting by myself. Yes, I am new to Sandpoint. I've just come for the festival, if they would ever get on with it." She glares at the merchants setting up. "After the festival, well, I guess I'll have to look for a job." She looks up at the new church. "Do you know of any respectable inn around here? I'll be needing a place to stay."
Seeking out the closest target first, he looked for Brother Vosk to see about the straw.
Kinmorn finds Brother Vosk tending to the boneyard, hunched over and lurching along as he plucks at weeds between the markers.
"Yes, I think I can cobble together some straw men for you, Brother Kinmorn. Farmer Brozen left several bales of hay and straw for tithe. I think I can spare some to be used as pretend brigands."
The interior of the Cathedral was as bright as its many windows allow, but it was brighter still in the streets outside and Kinmorn squinted for a moment as he allowed his eyes to adjust. So many people outside the cathedral already. Soon, hoped Kinmorn, there would be as many within. Just a few short days. Absentmindedly rubbing the silver symbol of Erastil that hung on a chain around his neck, Kinmorn began the short journey down the street to the armory to see what Savah had to say.
As you make your way out across the town square, you notice two young women you've never seen before standing across the square, admiring the new Cathedral. One is wearing scholar's robes, while the other seems dressed for ranging. As you make your way along High street to the Armory, you catch sight of the dwarf Whittlewood ahead of you, walking down the hill toward the market.
So excited was he for his pet project, Kinmorn almost convinced himself to pass the women by without properly greeting them. But then his sense of duty asserted itself and he gave in, deciding that it was just as important, if not more so, to greet newcomers to Sandpoint as it was to attend to errands he had created for himself.
Putting on what he hoped was a kindly smile, Kinmorn walked across the square to where the two women were looking at the cathedral.
It is obvious that he is making his way towards them personally and as soon as they appear to notice him, Kinmorn gushes, "Isn't it grand! Greetings and welcome to Sandpoint the both of you. I couldn't help notice you looking at our new cathedral, a true blessing from the gods. I am Brother Kinmorn Erastilson. Am I right in thinking the both of you are new to our town? I haven't seen your faces before."
"Well, I suppose I could explore with you, It's not like I am doing anything exiting by myself. Yes, I am new to Sandpoint. I've just come for the festival, if they would ever get on with it." She glares at the merchants setting up. "After the festival, well, I guess I'll have to look for a job." She looks up at the new church. "Do you know of any respectable inn around here? I'll be needing a place to stay."
"Not yet," Jessa replied warmly, "But I intend to find one. Maybe we should ask one of the locals for a recommendation?" She looked past Shantare for someone approachable...just in time to see Kinmorn headed their way.
Kinmorn gushes, "Isn't it grand! Greetings and welcome to Sandpoint the both of you. I couldn't help notice you looking at our new cathedral, a true blessing from the gods. I am Brother Kinmorn Erastilson. Am I right in thinking the both of you are new to our town? I haven't seen your faces before."
"Quite right," Jessa nodded, realizing she must look like a newly-minted wayfarer in Sandpoint, "We arrived by caravan just this morning. Nice to meet you. I'm Jessa Eventide...of Magnimar. And this is..." She paused as she realized she didn't know Shantare's name yet. "Oh, I'm sorry. I never got the chance to meet you until just now. You are...?"
What was his name? It was an easy one ... Yes! "Whittler-of-wood," he said "I was hoping you would come. I would like to talk to you about making some solid wood bases for a larger basket. It would need to have some holes around the outside to attach it to the weave."
"Mitnal, it is an easy matter ta make holes in wood. It is not so easy ta remove them!" Gengar laughs. "Why don't we meet on the morrow ta discuss this further? Now, why don't ya pack up yo' baskets and lets go enjoy some o' tha' fish I smell smokin' over by the cathedral? Eh, bring yo' talkin' bird! I've always wondered what clouds taste like...think he'll tell me?"
Blackwing cocked his head derisively as he heard the dwarf's words. Why clouds didn't "taste" like anything. Smoked fish on the other hand, sounded a bit more interesting.
Subsequently, the bird squawked with approval and shuffled about between Mitnal's baskets to encourage Gengar's plan...ready to go. After all, if he could manage to con a bit of mushbread from the overly large human, surely he could coax away a bit of fish, as well.
And maybe from the dwarf, too.
Mitnal could think of no reason to remove holes from wood. Measure twice, cut once and everything should be fine.
As suspicious as he was about the cooking in Sandpoint, the fish did smell good. He packed the baskets one inside the other until he only had two large baskets with long straps that he could carry, one over each shoulder. With his backpack, klar, and warhammer as well he looked positively ridiculous but he couldn't leave his warhammer at the campsite. The last time he had done that it had wandered off never to be found again.
"That fish does smell good. Shall we go?" he asked as much to the raven as to the dwarf and began heading over to the cathedral.
As Jessa, Shantare, and Kinmorn make their introductions, Jessa catches sight of another familiar face -- a young man giving a handful of silver coins to a porter. The man wears displeasure and irritation on his face, and is paying the porter with a handful of silver coins. The porter gestures toward the north end of town, then picks up a pile of large trunks and bags, which he settles on his back, before heading off in the direction he pointed, grunting under the weight of the young man's luggage.
The young man, his servant now dispatched, notices Jessa standing across the town square with two other people, and crosses over to the group.
"It seems I may still be here to see this butterfly festival after all," says Torrick, his voice dripping with disdain. "I have been unable to secure a horse and pack mule until after this festival is over. Still, I have taken up lodging at an in called the White Deer," He points to a large, three story building north of the Cathedral square, it's upper floors easily visible above the smaller buildings around it.
"My previous invitation still stands, Jeslara. You are welcome to lodge in my room while I am here in town, and then travel with me when I leave. You should take it. It would only help your career."
Vey seems little interested in introductions to Jessa's two new companions. In fact, it is unclear if he has even noticed that Shantare had travelled with your caravan for several days.
Ruano:
You have been traveling through the outlying farmlands around Sandpoint as you make your way to town for the festival, taking your time and familiarizing yourself with the land and meeting some of the people who live there.
You're traveling along Egan's Wood this morning, when you catch sight of a farmer walking the other way along the road, with a wild look in his eye.
"Help! You must help me! Please friend..."
Ruano urges Spot into a faster trot to run up to the man. "Sir! What is the matter?"
"My cattle! Some terrible thing has killed my cattle, and is eating them!"
"That fish does smell good. Shall we go?" he asked as much to the raven as to the dwarf and began heading over to the cathedral.
Intrigued and hopeful, Blackwing hopped along the street to follow them. Occasionally, he lifted himself into the air on his wings for short flights to keep pace. As they drew closer to the market, the raven couldn't help but notice the exchange of shiny coins between customers and vendors. Perhaps he might scavenge one after his meal...
"It seems I may still be here to see this butterfly festival after all," says Torrick, his voice dripping with disdain. "I have been unable to secure a horse and pack mule until after this festival is over. Still, I have taken up lodging at an in called the White Deer," He points to a large, three story building north of the Cathedral square, it's upper floors easily visible above the smaller buildings around it.
"My previous invitation still stands, Jeslara. You are welcome to lodge in my room while I am here in town, and then travel with me when I leave. You should take it. It would only help your career."
Jessa could feel a blush of embarrassment and anger rising on her face at Torrick's words. She glanced somewhat apologetically at Shantare and Kinmorn. She felt trapped, wanting nothing more than to sternly rebuff Torrick with a few choice words, but fearing that would make her look unpleasant in their eyes while possibly doing untold damage to her standing among the Pathfinders.
But she certainly didn't want to give the appearance of accepting such talk and his forward invitation either. That might sully her impression before she ever got to make a decent representation of herself.
"As I said before, Torrick," Jessa grimly replied, "I'll keep my own counsel as to my career...and I'll find my own lodging. Thank you." She consciously fought back any harsher retort, her face softening a little. "I hope you enjoy the festival. And best of luck in your travel."
"As I said before, Torrick," Jessa grimly replied, "I'll keep my own counsel as to my career...and I'll find my own lodging. Thank you." She consciously fought back any harsher retort, her face softening a little. "I hope you enjoy the festival. And best of luck in your travel."
Vey's face remains impassive, but his eyes betray his anger at being rebuffed. He gives Shantare a long look before returning his gaze to Jessa.
"I should have expected as much. I think I understand you a little better now. Still, if it makes a difference, you're both welcome to stay in my room. I'm up for a little personal adventure before I head out to find some in the real world. The two of you could make for an interesting start to my exploits."
Gengar purchases a couple of fine looking smoked fish on a stick. He hands one over to Mitnal. After sampling its succulence, he eyes the bird suspiciously. "If ya want some you gotta ask for it."
I fish my sling out of my pocket and seat a bullet in it. "Show me. What kind of beast?"
"That'll be two coppers each," squawks the smoked fish vendor. The pungent but inviting smells of the fish and the smoker compete with the vendor's personal body odor for which aroma is the strongest.
Mitnal happily takes a fish from Gengar and fishes in his pouch for some coins. He's by no means unable to count but he still struggles with the currency. He holds 10 coppers, 6 silver, and 4 gold out to the dwarf a little embarrassed and doesn't say anything.
...
To cover up his awkwardness he says "The whole town seems to be busy preparing for the festival. Do you think there would be any work that would pay better than selling baskets?"
I fish my sling out of my pocket and seat a bullet in it. "Show me. What kind of beast?"
"I do not know what kind of beast did this," says the farmer, as he leads you a half mile across a nearby field. "I think one of the cows is sick or wounded. It was lying on its side, but still moving and making some kind of noise. And not a normal sound for a cow, neither."
"Excuse me good sir," Kinmorn interupts the newcomer Torrick with some obvious displeasure showing on his face, "But I believe the good lady has already rebuffed your advances at least once. Most men of intellect and honor would hardly invite a second rejection. Especially when the initial offer was both dishonorable and immoral."
"Excuse me good sir," Kinmorn interupts the newcomer Torrick with some obvious displeasure showing on his face, "But I believe the good lady has already rebuffed your advances at least once. Most men of intellect and honor would hardly invite a second rejection. Especially when the initial offer was both dishonorable and immoral."
"When I need your council, priest, I'll ask you for it. Besides, don't you have some butterflies to catch? Regardless, I can see that the Lady Eventide has no interest in men," he says, casting another scornful look at Shantare, "I'm sure I can find some prostitute to warm my bed until I am rid of this flea-bitten town. Whether I can find one worth the coin remains to be seen."
With a sniff, Vey turns to go.
Gengar purchases a couple of fine looking smoked fish on a stick. He hands one over to Mitnal. After sampling its succulence, he eyes the bird suspiciously. "If ya want some you gotta ask for it."
"Eat?" Blackwing quips in order to play along.
Mitnal happily takes a fish from Gengar and fishes in his pouch for some coins. He's by no means unable to count but he still struggles with the currency. He holds 10 coppers, 6 silver, and 4 gold out to the dwarf a little embarrassed and doesn't say anything.
To cover up his awkwardness he says "The whole town seems to be busy preparing for the festival. Do you think there would be any work that would pay better than selling baskets?"
"Shiny..." the raven temporarily redirects its avarice from the food to Mitnal's apparent life savings.
"When I need your council, priest, I'll ask you for it. Besides, don't you have some butterflies to catch? Regardless, I can see that the Lady Eventide has no interest in men," he says, casting another scornful look at Shantare, "I'm sure I can find some prostitute to warm my bed until I am rid of this flea-bitten town. Whether I can find one worth the coin remains to be seen."
With a sniff, Vey turns to go.
Jessa's hand subconciously reached into her spell component pouch, her fingers tightening into a fist around a miniature archer's target. Before she realized it, the soft words to a spell tumbled from her lips as she followed after Torrick.
Once she finished the spell, she called out to him. "Wait. Vorrick. Don't leave like that." She relaxed her cloak just enough to show off the charms presented by her corset-vest and draw his attention again when he turned around.
"I guess... I mean you... You shouldn't go without a proper goodbye. You and the Society have already offered me so much."
She continued to close the distance between them until within arm's reach. And then her demeanor hardened once again. "But apparently someone forgot to teach you some manners. So here's lesson number one..."
She then launched a vicious punch straight for his face.