On the second Wildday of Tanot, the small riverside village of Trela celebrates the Carnival of Flowers with games during the day and feasting, song and dance in the evening under Belsameth's moon. The boats running up and down the river that divides New Venir and Lageni have ceased travel for the day to join the festivities: danger and doom are regular hazards on the merchants' long road and any opportunity for merriment is quickly snatched up like a fallen silver coin. The eaves of the modest houses are decked with garlands filling the air with a sweet fragrance to complement the laughter of children and the gentle singing of a handsome half-elf who strolls the town with his harp. Sailors, townsfolk and river guards converse and joke while local young men and women exchange bouquets in an elaborate homespun courtship ritual. Even the silhouette of the Blood Steppes to the north, with all the danger and tragedy it represents, cannot dampen the spirit of the Carnival.
Each of you has found your way here on this feast day with your own purposes in mind and while future plans and events may press you heavily every other day of the year, today is a celebration of the recently arrived summer and the promise of rest and recreation is difficult to pass up.
It's about two hours before noon and townsfolk are lining up around the periphery of the village where a track has been layed out; a line of men and women are stretching at a line drawn in the dust with chalk. The town square has been cleared as well and some of the burly Riverguard are piling up padded armor and elderwood rods under the supervision of a handsome young man in the black robes of a Belsamite.
If you want to join the footrace, you had better hurry...
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Maro moves among the milling townsfolk with a calm expression on his face, attempting to maintain what he considers the proper decorum for an acolyte of the dark lady.
Seeing a fellow clergyman of the faith, he approaches and nods a greeting when the man is not busy with other matters, waiting patiently to be acknowledged, as he feels is most appropriate when addressing a fellow of uncertain rank. (Priests of the goddess of murder being somewhat unforgiving of social slights from perceived inferiors, he notes to himself.)
If he sees an opportunity to lend a hand with the man's duties, he does so unbidden, but otherwise waits for the other priest's convenience, eyes flitting over the flirting couples exchanging flowers with a somewhat amused expression.
Dusis walks happily among the crowd thinking to himself : "Dusis , my lad , if, by this time tomorrow you won't have picked a girl or an hangover , this won't be because you did not do your best "
Seeing the run being prepared , he moves towards it and asks a passerby how to enter it and what are the rules .
Lugdro wandered through the throngs of people with a wistful look on his face. It's feels so good to be in a community that is happy... the tribes, the one he was born into and the one he had been destined to marry into, have been nothing but toil and sadness since the attacks that nearly wiped them out and forced them to merge. Even the children had no time to play... they were forced to go out to forage for nuts and other easy sources of food while the women tended the herds and farmed and the men hunted and worked on defense. Part of the defense was sending some of the younger tribespeople out to learn about the greater world and find better ways of defense, possibly even items of power that could help.
This town was much bigger and more 'civilized' than the tribe tribeholdings. He wasn't altogether comfortable with the press of so many people, but there were a goodly number of young folk afrolic, so he felt he had an age kinship, if not an actual consanguinity. The young druid stopped at a stall and bought a garland of cloying scented flowers that the shopkeeper draped around his neck and a hunk of bread drizzled with honey. The race was gathering, and he moved that direction to see the spectacle.
Maro moves among the milling townsfolk with a calm expression on his face, attempting to maintain what he considers the proper decorum for an acolyte of the dark lady.
Seeing a fellow clergyman of the faith, he approaches and nods a greeting when the man is not busy with other matters, waiting patiently to be acknowledged, as he feels is most appropriate when addressing a fellow of uncertain rank. (Priests of the goddess of murder being somewhat unforgiving of social slights from perceived inferiors, he notes to himself.)
If he sees an opportunity to lend a hand with the man's duties, he does so unbidden, but otherwise waits for the other priest's convenience, eyes flitting over the flirting couples exchanging flowers with a somewhat amused expression.
The man turns to you as you approach with a handsome eyebrow arched and a smile that doesn't quite touch his eyes ready for you. He eyes your vestments and extends a hand for a firm handshake. The River Guard nod tersely at your approach and touch their chins in formal greeting but continue arranging things for the brawl in the square.
"Greetings, Brother! Are you newly arrived for the festivities? Savoring the gaiety of this bright feast day?", the priest says with a laconic grin,"I am Radraan of Belsameth, Keeper of the Midnight Shrine and the folk of Trela are my flock. What has brought you here to darken our doorsteps?"
Dusis walks happily among the crowd thinking to himself : "Dusis , my lad , if, by this time tomorrow you won't have picked a girl or an hangover , this won't be because you did not do your best "
Seeing the run being prepared , he moves towards it and asks a passerby how to enter it and what are the rules .
Dusis taps a lad on the shoulder and the much shorter man looks up with surprise and awe. "Wow, sir, are you an Albadian?! Quite rare to see your folk this far south! What brings you 'round... oh, wait, I heard you're a caravan guard, is that right? The race is simple: whoever complete five laps the fastest wins a nice new pair o' boots. By the looks o' you, you're a safe bet if you wanted to compete."
There are five other competitors lining up; mostly human townsfolk and fishermen stretching their calves and loosening up.
He notices Lugdro approaching to watch and nods to him while speaking to Dusis.
"Is this your brother, sir? You both plan to compete?"
bonus for each circuit. Those with a speed other than
30 ft. must add or subtract the difference as a bonus or
penalty; for example, a halfling with a speed of 20 ft
will subtract 10 from every roll, whereas the barbarian
with a speed of 40 adds 10.
At the end of each circuit, tally the total roll from
that circuit and add it to the totals from the circuit before.
The character with the highest total is first, followed by
the second highest total, etc. At the end of the fifth
circuit, tally all five totals to determine finish order.
At any point, a character can “push himself,” granting
his roll for that circuit a +5 circumstance modifier,
but inflicting 1d6 subdual damage on himself.
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Maro returns the mans handshake, and makes the appropriately dismissive noise at the mention of 'enjoying the bright day,' and an amused smirk at the reference to 'darkening doorsteps,' "Greeting to you as well, prelate. I am Incantator Maro, late of the Benighted Fane of Morian, and if you speak for our Lady in this place, then I offer my assistance, if such is welcome."
Dusis smiles at the barbarian the man called his brother .
"So are you going to compete also ? Good luck to you for the second place ! "
Walking around the town, Galwynn looked at the variety of things going on. Perhaps something to eat before he settles down to watch the race.
Lugdro looks a bit surprised to be called out for the event, but he heads over. When the other man... also a bit tribal by his look... offers his boast the druid laughs.
"Racing had not been my plan when I got into town this morn, and I have little doubt about my wanting capabilities, but I would be pleased to join and will offer the best sport I am able. My the spirit of the cougars be with our legs and grant us the ability to make this competition a treat for the crowd!"
Cougars! Ludgro thinks, laughingly... My people are herders, such racing is not a high art to them.
Dusis heads towards the start of the race , his face goes concentrated. For him , even an small event like this is a challenge to overcome. Nevertheless , any young woman around is treated to a smile ... And when the race starts, the barbarian in himself awaken ...
Still laughing at his folly, Lugdro strips off his armor and gear, leaving them near any race official. He limbers up a bit and joins the start line. Offering any competitors around him a good natured smile. When the race starts he gives an honest effort, but is not off to a lightening start...
Maro returns the mans handshake, and makes the appropriately dismissive noise at the mention of 'enjoying the bright day,' and an amused smirk at the reference to 'darkening doorsteps,' "Greeting to you as well, prelate. I am Incantator Maro, late of the Benighted Fane of Morian, and if you speak for our Lady in this place, then I offer my assistance, if such is welcome."
Radraan nods with satisfaction.
"It would be my pleasure if you would join us this evening at the Midnight Shrine for our services. What news do you bring from our brothers and sisters from the Benighted Fane? Have the Chardunites succeeded in tyrannizing the populace into the Conquerer's worship?"He spits on the ground for emphasis; a gesture that seems quite at odds with his suave demeanor.
Walking around the town, Galwynn looked at the variety of things going on. Perhaps something to eat before he settles down to watch the race.
Trela's Carnival doesn't have even a fraction of the splendor and excess of Shelzar's frequent feast days, but Galwynn must admit that the comparison is unfair. The place does have a certain rustic charm, however. Long tables with benches have been layed out near the town center, each with several plates of dark local bread, local peaches and figs, apples imported from up north, pine nuts and honey. The young sorcerer exchanges pleasantries with some of the folk nearby and can't help but catch sight of the two Belsamites conversing where the fencing round has been cleared.
At the footraces, the Albadian and the other northerner takes a wide lead on the first round, the others trailing slightly (or very far) behind. One of the halfling competitors huffs and puffs, pumping his little legs and keeping up better than some of the humans.
The first lap of the race down, Lugdro tries to focus on his breathing and find a good rythem for his pace. In his mind, he hears the fall of hooves on the slopes. He has trouble getting in touch with his inner goat.
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Radraan nods with satisfaction.
"It would be my pleasure if you would join us this evening at the Midnight Shrine for our services. What news do you bring from our brothers and sisters from the Benighted Fane? Have the Chardunites succeeded in tyrannizing the populace into the Conquerer's worship?"
He spits on the ground for emphasis; a gesture that seems quite at odds with his suave demeanor.
"Indeed, the Chardunite infection spreads. Hence my travels, to find a place not already trodden under that unsubtle boot. It is a pleasure to see signs of fellowship here, and I would be honored to attend your service this evening."
Dusis smiles to himself seeing his advance but nevertheless does not relax his concentration
Incantator Maro
Radraan nods. "Excellent," he says,"But please, you are a guest in my small congregation my brother: enjoy the carnival, that the terror of our mistress' night may seem all the sweeter."
With that, he goes back to setting up the rounds in the town square. The footrace is well underway, and you notice that a few northerners are competing, including an Albadian running faster than you've seen a man go in your whole life. Another man with a northern cast to his complexion is also watching the race, though he's dressed in southern style; he's got a certain personal magnetism, even just standing and watching the race.
Dusis and Lugdro Second lap of the footrace.
After an early lead, Lugdro starts to trail behind three of the competitors, neck and neck with a third. Dusis continues to maintain his seemingly insurmountable lead; those fancy boots are as good as his, it seems.
The Belsamites presence makes Galwynn uneasy. The Ancients back in Shelzar were always up to one thing or another, and it usually ended in more bloodshed then was needed. As he continued to wander the fair, he pondered what about this village would attract the attention of the godess of murder's faithful.
Lugdro tucks his head down and tries to pull more speed out of his legs. He feels he's starting to make some headway, but is obviously not pouring out a burst of speed to catch the leaders. On the last lap, he reaches deep and pushes himself harder, pounding the ground rythmically, ignoring joints that are screaming in pain.
3)
4)
5)
subdual damage
Dusis continues to run far ahead of all his concurrents
On the last turn seeing he is in danger to depass the last concurrent with a full turn of advance , he prefers to slacken a little is run rather than having someone push him .
Dusis is far and away the winner of the footrace, hitting the finish line on the last lap to a swell of applause. Lugdro, the halfling and another man are next, panting and sweating. The halfling gentleman shakes with exhaustion, but he grins fiercely with pride at doing so well.
A grizzled half-orc in a well-tailored Riverguard uniform claps Dusis on the shoulder and announces,"Congratulations to you, friend! A fine footrace and an excellent victory! As the winner, these boots are yours!"
He hands Dusis a fine pair of sturdy boots stitched with a pattern of horses.
The man turns to the other competitors: "Congratulations to each of you as well! Plenty more games today, if you still thirst for victory... though I think Quimby there will need a few minutes."
Everyone claps once more, laughing good-naturedly and patting Quimby, the halfling, on the back.
Another man calls,"The elderwood duels will begin in twenty minutes in the square, whichever one of you fools want to beat each other with sticks!"
The Belsamites presence makes Galwynn uneasy. The Ancients back in Shelzar were always up to one thing or another, and it usually ended in more bloodshed then was needed. As he continued to wander the fair, he pondered what about this village would attract the attention of the godess of murder's faithful.
Looking around, Galwynn notices an old building made of stone on the outskirts of town: Belsameth's moon is carved in the lintel over the door.
Nearby, a tall merchant is talking to one of the Riverguards: "...wanted to get this blade looked at by that enchantress but she was asking far more than a fair price. You would think she was the only arcanist for miles!"
"She is, friend. Far as I know, at least."
"Oh. I suppose I'll have to wait until we get upriver. Thank you."
"Enjoy the carnival, sir."
The Belsamites presence makes Galwynn uneasy. The Ancients back in Shelzar were always up to one thing or another, and it usually ended in more bloodshed then was needed. As he continued to wander the fair, he pondered what about this village would attract the attention of the godess of murder's faithful.
Looking around, Galwynn notices an old building made of stone on the outskirts of town: Belsameth's moon is carved in the lintel over the door.
Nearby, a tall merchant is talking to one of the Riverguards: "...wanted to get this blade looked at by that enchantress but she was asking far more than a fair price. You would think she was the only arcanist for miles!"
"She is, friend. Far as I know, at least."
"Oh. I suppose I'll have to wait until we get upriver. Thank you."
"Enjoy the carnival, sir."
"I can look at the blade for you sir, and I will do it cheap as well," Galwynn says.
Lugdro gulps down deep tides of air trying to keep from throwing up, the sprinting at the end making him taste remnants of the honeyed bread at the back of his mouth. He claps, even as he heaves and wonders around in awkward circles, knees shaking like a newborn kid. When he has enough breath caught to speak, he goes about shaking hands with the other runners. He particularly congratulates the winner and the halfling man, who, in Lugdro's estimation has just run two and a half races.
"I can look at the blade for you sir, and I will do it cheap as well," Galwynn says.The Belsamites presence makes Galwynn uneasy. The Ancients back in Shelzar were always up to one thing or another, and it usually ended in more bloodshed then was needed. As he continued to wander the fair, he pondered what about this village would attract the attention of the godess of murder's faithful.
Looking around, Galwynn notices an old building made of stone on the outskirts of town: Belsameth's moon is carved in the lintel over the door.
Nearby, a tall merchant is talking to one of the Riverguards: "...wanted to get this blade looked at by that enchantress but she was asking far more than a fair price. You would think she was the only arcanist for miles!"
"She is, friend. Far as I know, at least."
"Oh. I suppose I'll have to wait until we get upriver. Thank you."
"Enjoy the carnival, sir."
He turns at Galwynn's offer.
"Oh? Lucky you overheard that, then. I bought this fine sword just the other day and I reckon it may be enchanted."The merchant pulls out a well crafted longsword with a curved hilt. When he pulls it from the scabbard, you note that the weapon is indeed quite fine.
"I'm willin' to offer you 5 gold marks if you can at least tell me whether it's magical or not. What d'you say?"
Assuming that Maro has located some ale, mead or water, he brings some to the winner and to the halfling, Quimby, as well.
"Congratulations on a race well-run, as if the hounds of hell themselves nipped at your heels."
Quimby gladly takes the accolades and the cup of water.
"Much obliged, frien-", he stops in mid sentence when he notes your vestments,"... er, uh, Incantator? Thank you. I didn't know Radraan had taken on an acolyte, if you don't mind my sayin'."|
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Quimby gladly takes the accolades and the cup of water. "Much obliged, frien-", he stops in mid sentence when he notes your vestments, "... er, uh, Incantator? Thank you. I didn't know Radraan had taken on an acolyte, if you don't mind my sayin'."
Maro smiles at the assumption, "I'm in town for the festival, actually, but I'm pleased that you recognized my rank. Perhaps I'll see you later at the shrine."
Maro then hands whatever remains of the liquid refreshment to the winner of the race, if he's still present.
Dusis will try not to strut too much after this easy victory. He will then ask a bystander (preferably female and young)
'So , pretty one , which other challenges will there be today ? '
"I can look at the blade for you sir, and I will do it cheap as well," Galwynn says.The Belsamites presence makes Galwynn uneasy. The Ancients back in Shelzar were always up to one thing or another, and it usually ended in more bloodshed then was needed. As he continued to wander the fair, he pondered what about this village would attract the attention of the godess of murder's faithful.
Looking around, Galwynn notices an old building made of stone on the outskirts of town: Belsameth's moon is carved in the lintel over the door.
Nearby, a tall merchant is talking to one of the Riverguards: "...wanted to get this blade looked at by that enchantress but she was asking far more than a fair price. You would think she was the only arcanist for miles!"
"She is, friend. Far as I know, at least."
"Oh. I suppose I'll have to wait until we get upriver. Thank you."
"Enjoy the carnival, sir."He turns at Galwynn's offer.
"Oh? Lucky you overheard that, then. I bought this fine sword just the other day and I reckon it may be enchanted."
The merchant pulls out a well crafted longsword with a curved hilt. When he pulls it from the scabbard, you note that the weapon is indeed quite fine.
"I'm willin' to offer you 5 gold marks if you can at least tell me whether it's magical or not. What d'you say?"
"Gladly." Galwynn waives his hand over the blade and casts Detect Magic.
With a bit of concentration, Galwynn ascertains that the merchant's sword does indeed bear a faint enchantment of the evocation school: consistent with most magical weapons.
Dusis will try not to strut too much after this easy victory. He will then ask a bystander (preferably female and young)
'So , pretty one , which other challenges will there be today ? '
A young lady with the dark hair and olive skin laughs lightly at the compliment before replying," The elder rod duels are going to start soon in the square: ye'll have more competition than the footrace, I reckon sir."
Indeed, there are quite a few townsfolk, male and female, gathering in the town square. A handsome man with curly dark hair and black robes marked with the symbol of Belsameth stands close by where they've cleared a space for the duel; though he smiles good-naturedly, the townsfolk seem to be giving him a wide berth.
Unfortunately, you can't tell the exact extent of the enchantment. Still, the merchant gratefully hands over five gold coins and shakes your hand with a satisfied smile.
"Thank you kindly, sir. Glad I've still got the eye for fine merchandise. The name's Vincente and my ship's The Dart, if you want to look me up further north. Glad to meet you."
The townsfolk are gathering for the elder rod duels in the square, if you care to join them.
The elder rod duels will be fought with wooden weapons made of bamboo-like plants that inflict 1d6 subdual damage, each fighter will be given a suit of padded armor as well. Standard combat rules, melee attacks only (ranged attacks or magic will result in disqualification). The prize is a suit of chainmail and a weapon of the victor's choice. You can expect to fight between 3 and 5 opponents.
"Your presence will inspire me. Can a beg a favor from you and fight as your champion , my lady ? "
With this, Dusis will have at the look at the protagonists of the fight to judge who could be a danger
The lass laughs light-heartedly and strings a garland of flowers around the barbarian's neck.
"My name's Amaya, sir. I'm sure my champion will do me proud."
There are some pretty burly customers lining up for the duels: Dusis may have to work harder for this prize than the previous one.
Chatting with Amaya , Dusis takes place among the combatants .
Dusis faces down his first opponent in the ring: a young militia man with curly blonde hair. The two of you shake hands and start circling each other, testing your range on the elder rods.
Initiative 1st opponent:
Attack and damage 1st opponent:
Lugdro gathers his belongings and moves with the milling crowd down to where the staff battling is going on. If any of the racers are nearby, he gives them a jocular elbow to the ribs and says "I should have exercised more patience and waited for this event. The sparring with staves is a bit more to my liking than that steeplechasing!"
He is still winded and his limbs are still sore, but he will take a staff and join in the combat since it's all in good fun and community. Anyway, the mandate from his tribal elders was to go out an learn stories and skills that could help defend the clan... and this was an opportunity to study some other fighters moves.
As he squares off against his first opponant, he flashes a little smile and shifts back and forth on his tired legs restlessly.
Initiative:
To hit:
Crit confirmation: No crit :(
Damage:
EDIT: edited to include crit confirmation.
Initiative (Lugdro's opponent):
Attack:
Lugdro blindsides his opponent with a swift crack to the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He attempts to retaliate, but is too off-balance to make an effective swing.
Initiative 1er round
Dusis is surprised by the speed of his opponents and takes the blow with a little surprise . He then attacks his opponent:
Preferred attack two handed with power attack damage
If not possible attack with power attack damage
Lugdro has to restrain the sudden impluse to move forward and see if the man was alright. Of course he was... he may not enjoy the drubbing, but it's not like it's going to cost the man his healt in a substantive way. He lines up a second shot, adjusting his grip while the man teeters, and the young druid swings again.
To hit:
Damage:
Dusis' opponent:
The young militia man bats aside Dusis' guard and strikes him in the ribs with a blow forceful enough to leave a bruise, even through the padded shirt. But he leaves himself open to a powerful overhand strike from the barbarian's own weapon, knocking him unconscious and leaving Dusis the victor. A few of the spectators pull the young man to a nearby stretcher where the priest of Belsameth ministers to his bruises, making sure there's no permanent damage.
Lugdro's fight is even more one-sided, the druid thoroughly knocking his opponent out of the fight. He drops his stave and says,"Oh, Night Mother's mercy. I yield!" The young man joins the others awaiting Radraan's ministrations.
It seems my opponent did strike me twice. What result do I take ?
What is the reaction of the crowd to the fact i did strike senseless a local boy ?
Dusis walks off to a scattered applause and some sullen looks, but nothing with any heat in it. After all, there are a few more rounds coming and plenty of tough-looking locals and caravan guards remain.