Lugdro offers the young man a bow and his hand. "I thank you for the opportunity to test myself, friend. Each test helps me protect my village better, so I am in your debt."
Lugdro offers the young man a bow and his hand. "I thank you for the opportunity to test myself, friend. Each test helps me protect my village better, so I am in your debt."
The young man offers a punch-drunk smile.
"Well, eh, that's what I'm here for, mate. Good luck with the rest o' the tourney."Several more men and a few women fight their way through their first bouts. The villagers applaud the victors and for the most part sportsmanship and the spirit of the festival prevails, though there are one or two disqualifications for low blows and hot tempers.
The men tend to give Dusis a wide berth and some of the more competitive give him the eye.
The Albadian faces down his second opponent, a heavy set farmer. He glowers at the barbarian's gloating.
"Radraan's gonna have his hands full puttin' you back together; if not after me, then after one o' the other men."
He talks tough, but Dusis can see his knees shaking. The man advances on Dusis, his own elder rod held in a two-handed grip.
Initiative:
Attack, including the penalty for being shaken by the intimidate check:
Lugdro faces his second opponent as well, a tall woman with her red hair (quite rare, this far south) tied up. From what you've heard, she's the blacksmith's daughter.
"If you don't go easy on me for bein' a girl, I won't go easy on you for bein' a foreigner, okay?", she says with a wink before attacking.
Initiative:
Attack:
A sun burned man approaches Incantator Maro on the sidelines of the elder rod duels.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but I can see you're a man of the cloth and I had a question about the faith of Belsameth. Y'see, I respect all the Victors as we ought to, but I just feel that, uh, bein' a farmer and all, I ought to worship, well, a goddess friendlier to my profession. Like, like Tanil for instance. Or the titan Denev. Or even Madriel. I tried to talk to Radraan, but he just tried to give me the scare. As much as I respect Belsameth and, uh, all she's done for us mortals, it just makes more sense to me to turn to a deity with a more agricultural outlook. Does that make sense? Is there something in the faith that I'm missin', sir?"
Meanwhile, a few young ladies (between 17 and 14) approach Galwynn. A few have garlands of flowers in hand and the younger girls giggle to each other approaching the handsome sorcerer.
"Are you enjoying our carnival, good sir?", asks one of the older girls. She is short and broad in the hips. "I heard from someone that you came here from down south and you did some magic for Vincente the merchant. Are you a Calastian?"
You hear one of the other girls say quietly,"He looks a little too friendly to be a Calastian, Nora."
This, for some reason, elicits a giggle from the other girls.
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Maro smiles at the man’s question, showing no sign of displeasure at the man’s mention of finding Madriel’s faith more to his preference. “First, perhaps we should step into the shade, for it seems that the sun has been unkind to your skin.” He says, solicitously, placing his hand on the farmer’s shoulder and escorting him into a shadier spot, keeping his hand on the man’s shoulder as he speaks, in the vaguely creepy / intimidating / overly familiar way that some people do, “Every one of the Victors, Belsameth and even terrible Vangal, we are assured,” he adds the last with a bit of a conspiratorial nod, as if relating a confidence, “have served us well saving us from the mad whims of the Titans, and, as you say, all are worthy of some measure of respect, in appreciation for that great deed. It is true that Madriel and Tanil are more strongly associated with growing things and the way of the farmer, but Belsameth is just as important. Three specific examples come to mind;” Maro begins ticking off his points on his long fingers as he details each point.
“Firstly, the dark soil in which crops grow most healthily is soil made fertile by the life that has been lost before, whether from turning crops under the soil, or fertilizing them with the wastes of animals. Secondly, if you raise animals for their meat or hides, again, death is an integral part of your life and your work, as the lambs and swine and chickens most go before the blade to sustain our own families. And, thirdly, every farmer must deal with the creatures that come in the night, the fox or weasel who raids the henhouse, the moles and gophers that nibble at your cabbages. These are things that we can face ourselves, with hounds and traps and sharpened sticks, but there are other things in the night, true horrors that even the most fierce and loyal sheepdog can keep away, Titanspawn and other horrors that hide in the shadows, goblins and ghouls and worse things besides. While Madriel, in her grace,” he says, gesturing at the sunlight above, “rests from her daily activities, it is up to Belsameth to stalk the night, dagger in hand, and remind the night terrors that no matter how fearsome the Titans may have made them, there is one who is more terrible and deadly yet. The Dark Lady has accepted her role as not just a monster, but a monster *to* monsters. The Titanspawn have no love for Madriel or Corean or Tanil, it is true, but Belsameth is the one that they truly fear, for she has walked into the night they thought their safe haven, and hunted them were they dwell.”
Wrapping up, he gestures to the sun again, “When you plant your grains, or see the birth of a new lamb, say a word of thanks to Madriel or Tanil, as is appropriate, but remember when you harvest grains, or bring meat to your lips, or sip of wine or ale, that the animals and plants gave their lives for this bounty, and in death, there is the work of Belsameth, and, in doing these things, you are receiving her gifts. Pause to say a word in her honor, to recognize that our lives cannot continue without her gifts, that our flesh would fail, if we did not cut down living things. Each meal represents little deaths that we accept every day, as we reap grain or enjoy eggs in broth, and they are a constant reminder that death need not be a terrible thing. It is as much a part of life as birth and growth.”
Maro will very deliberately *not* point out that Madriel's pretty sun has scorched his skin, as he wishes to avoid saying anything anti-Madriel in the man's presence and 'get his back up,' so to speak.
Lugdro gives a little laugh, "I wouldn't dream of it miss... the female of any species can be just as dangerous as the male. I don't see why that doesn't apply to people, as well.'
He assumes his stance in preparation for the fight.
Part of it is due to muscles already fatigued by the race, but most of it is just that the girl is that fast. Her swing catches Lugdro squarely and plants him reeling on his arse. He falls back and considers the lovely blue sky for a moment.
Shaking his head, he starts to gain his feet, "You see my point. Thank you for the opportunity to learn."
The young lady laughs lightly and helps Lugdro up.
"Pushed yerself a little hard, eh? Nothing a big meal won't clean up."
Villagers gently slap Lugdro on the back and offer some words of consolation. A drink is pressed, unbidden, into his hands while Radraan the priest looks him over to make sure the druid doesn't have a concussion.
"You look fine enough, friend.", he says with his oily smile, "Now that I think of it, I don't believe we've properly met. I am Radraan of Belsameth and I tend to this community in the Slayer's name. From the holly and mistletoe at your belt, may I guess that you are one of Denev's adherents?"
Though he smiles, his gaze is icy.
The farmer nods as Incantator Maro speaks of his faith, a finger to his chin in thought as he considers the priest's words. He stares into the Belsamite's eyes, hypnotized.
"I, ah, I can see what you mean. Perhaps Belsameth is worth a longer look. Radraan never put it like that. No sir. Thank, Incantator, for your advice. I've got a lot of thinking ahead of me, I reckon."
Shaking your hand, he walks off into the village, looking very pensive.
Galwyn wanders the fair, gnawing on the leg of a local fowl as he looks over the various activities. The festival was entertaining in a quaint rural way, but he did not understand why he had been told to be here during thefestival. He did not see anything that would lead him to believe that there were any clues to his past here.
Galwyn wanders the fair, gnawing on the leg of a local fowl as he looks over the various activities. The festival was entertaining in a quaint rural way, but he did not understand why he had been told to be here during thefestival. He did not see anything that would lead him to believe that there were any clues to his past here.
A few young ladies (between 17 and 14) approach Galwynn. A few have garlands of flowers in hand and the younger girls giggle to each other approaching the handsome sorcerer.
"Are you enjoying our carnival, good sir?", asks one of the older girls. She is short and broad in the hips. "I heard from someone that you came here from down south and you did some magic for Vincente the merchant. Are you a Calastian?"
You hear one of the other girls say quietly,"He looks a little too friendly to be a Calastian, Nora."
This, for some reason, elicits a giggle from the other girls.
"I am enjoying the festival," he says, "and no I am not Calastian, I am Shelzari."
Dusis takes the strike with a little grunt and retaliates :
Two handed Attack without power attack :
Dusis' blow connects with the man's midsection, knocking the wind from him. He retaliates in close quarters, going for the barbarian's shoulder.
Attack, no longer shaken:
But for once, the padded armor absorbs most of the blow.
"I am enjoying the festival," he says, "and no I am not Calastian, I am Shelzari."
The girls look at you wide-eyed, some of them blush.
"Oh! That's very different! Sorry for the mistake!"
The girls seem to deliberate for a moment.
"Do you mind... I hope we're not bothering you... but what's Shelzar like, really? I've heard people do it in the streets and have feast days every week! What brings you to Trela?"
"I am enjoying the festival," he says, "and no I am not Calastian, I am Shelzari."The girls look at you wide-eyed, some of them blush.
"Oh! That's very different! Sorry for the mistake!"
The girls seem to deliberate for a moment.
"Do you mind... I hope we're not bothering you... but what's Shelzar like, really? I've heard people do it in the streets and have feast days every week! What brings you to Trela?"
"Honestly, Shelzar is much like here," Galwynn says. "Yes we are very open about sex, as befits a city that worships Idra, but contrary to popular belief there are not constantly orgies in the streets. You are more likly to run across someone playing Haggo. Most people are too busy trying to mkae a living for that to happen. For example my adopted father was a book merchant. Most of the books he sold were mundane things like how to fix a broken wagon wheel or how to sharpen a plowshare, or the proper type of wine to serve with fish, that kind of thing. And yes, we do have feasts every Wilday, but that is more of an excuse than an obligation. As for why I am here, I am searching for the truth about my birth parents, who I never knew, and my search has led me here."
The girls seem sort of disappointed. Perhaps they wanted the wild rumors confirmed.
"I don't know anyone that looks like you...," says a tall, plain looking girl, "... at least not from around here, I mean. Do you know your mam and pap's names? Maybe they moved away or something. I reckon old Delora might have an idea if you got their names; she been here since the Divine War, I bet!"
"She's probably in the shade by town square, mister.", pipes up one of the younger girls, with dark eyes and a heart-shaped face barely out from under her mother's skirts.
Lugdro nods slightly, not entierly trusting the cheerfulness that doesn't seem to reach the cleric's eyes. He tries not to let his stance slip into the defensive, but he doesn't want to give too much away of his people, since they are in such a precarious position. "I... am Lugdro of the Kaprakine Clan far to the north. I am... an observer. And, yes, Denev has much to teach those what would understand the ways of the fullness of nature. Who, may I ask, are you?"
"time to finish":
Two handed Attack without power attack :
Lugdro nods slightly, not entierly trusting the cheerfulness that doesn't seem to reach the cleric's eyes. He tries not to let his stance slip into the defensive, but he doesn't want to give too much away of his people, since they are in such a precarious position. "I... am Lugdro of the Kaprakine Clan far to the north. I am... an observer. And, yes, Denev has much to teach those what would understand the ways of the fullness of nature. Who, may I ask, are you?"
The man takes a seat at your side, draping an arm over your shoulder. It lightly makes contact with a fresh bruise, causing a short jolt of pain.
"Ah ha, my dear man, your exertions must have drained you quite a bit. As I said, I am Radraan of Belsameth the, uh, spiritual voice of Trela, if you will. It is truly a pleasure to have you as our guest to our humble town and I hope that you will enjoy all the rustic charms we have at our disposal. Your clan calls Amalthea home, correct? Oh, you've truly travelled far to visit us."He leans in, closer than a comfortable conversation allows.
"But I have a favor to ask of you, Lugdro of the Kaprakine. You see, I have nothing but respect for Denev and her adherents. Truly, the Divine War would have gone worse without your titaness' intervention. But New Venir has a long history of worshipping Belsameth; she is a part of our culture, our heritage and tradition. It is a sad thing that some seem to desire a break with that tradition..."
Radraan shakes his head.
"... some of our countrymen to the south have already embraced Chardun's doctrine from the Calastians. Terrible. So I wish to ask, with all due respect, that you enjoy the festivities and observe what you wish but please refrain from spreading the Earthmother's faith among my flock. We are a small community. It is important to keep traditions alive, don't you think?"
"time to finish":
Two handed Attack without power attack : 1d20+4;1d6+4
With a fierce crack across the man's back, your rod breaks. Your opponent cries out and drops his own dueling weapon.
"That's it! I'm done!"The townspeople applaud your victory as a huge man steps into the circle, hefting his elder rod and getting used to the weight. You've seen him fight a few times; he's quite strong but surprisingly light on his feet.
"Well, stranger, seems it's between you and me for the prize. You'll see I'm tougher than these whelps we've thrown you so far."
Duelist stats for my use:
Initiative:
Attack (power attack, two-handed):
Lugdro winces and gives a small chuckle. "I am sorry, Radraan... the blacksmith's daughter gave me a sound rap upon the head. No permanant damage, I'm sure, but enough to blur my attention a bit." Not enjoying having the cleric hanging on him, the young druid removes the man's arm and stands, a bit wobbly. "I assure you I have no interest in proselytizing in your community. I understand your concern for the spititual health of your people and can only promise you that my interestes lie ultimately with my own community. However, if your kinsmen here ask of my faith, neither shall I hide it. As you say, the Divine War would have left even deeper scars were it not for the Earthmother. I am no missionary seeking converts, but if any take cue from my example, neither will I dissuade them."
Initiative
Attack (power attack two handed ):
Again , Dusis is surprised by the speed of his opponents but this last one is too much for him and the sweep of his opponent weapon against his head send him unconscious directly .
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Dusis is surprised by the speed of his opponents but this last one is too much for him and the sweep of his opponent weapon against his head send him unconscious directly.
Recognizing the severity of the blow, and noting that his fellow clergyman is speaking to another man, Maro hastens forward to tend to the fallen warrior, holding up his holy symbol and saying, "Dark Lady, show this man the way out of the endless night."
Maro helps Dusis to his feet, and gives him time to recover his weapon and clear his head before speaking. "Well fought, sir, but it appears that the local champion is also quite formidable."
Initiative 1d20 + 2
Attack (power attack two handed ): 1d20+ 3 ; 1d6+7
Again , Dusis is surprised by the speed of his opponents but this last one is too much for him and the sweep of his opponent weapon against his head send him unconscious directly .
Lugdro winces and gives a small chuckle. "I am sorry, Radraan... the blacksmith's daughter gave me a sound rap upon the head. No permanant damage, I'm sure, but enough to blur my attention a bit." Not enjoying having the cleric hanging on him, the young druid removes the man's arm and stands, a bit wobbly. "I assure you I have no interest in proselytizing in your community. I understand your concern for the spititual health of your people and can only promise you that my interestes lie ultimately with my own community. However, if your kinsmen here ask of my faith, neither shall I hide it. As you say, the Divine War would have left even deeper scars were it not for the Earthmother. I am no missionary seeking converts, but if any take cue from my example, neither will I dissuade them."
Radraan continues to smile as he stands up and smooths out his robes. He seems unmoved by the spectacle in the elder rod ring.
"I suppose I shall have to be satisfied, then. I do hope you enjoy the rest of our carnival. May the Slayer smile on you."He walks to the ring, helping Incantator Maro hoist Dusis back on his feet. Everyone claps as Dusis stands, glad that no one was seriously hurt. His challenger claps as well, offering a hand.
"Real sorry if I tapped you too hard, lad. I get competitive. Name's Jonas; listen, you did great. How'd you like to split the prize with me?"
Galwynn frowns at the grls. "No I don't know my parents names,"he says with a sad sigh. "My adoptive parents found me on their doorstep when I was an infant. The only thing they found was a note asking them to raise me as their own and warning that nobody must ever know I was adopted. My adoptive mother had just lost an infant in childbirth, so it as easy to pass me off as their own child."
Dusis shakes his head to clear his mind and nod thanks to the two priests.
"Thanks, Jonas but like my mother said .If you don't want to get wet , you should not swim . You won the bout fair and square . The prize is yours. Now , if you want to stand me a beer this evening , I won't say no "
With this , Dusis walks back to Amaya and says to her :
"Sorry I did not win there but your people were too fast for me . My style is more slow and steady "
Galwynn frowns at the grls. "No I don't know my parents names,"he says with a sad sigh. "My adoptive parents found me on their doorstep when I was an infant. The only thing they found was a note asking them to raise me as their own and warning that nobody must ever know I was adopted. My adoptive mother had just lost an infant in childbirth, so it as easy to pass me off as their own child."
Their gaiety subsides, learning of Galwynn's sad past.
"Madriel's mercy, sir, I'm terribly sorry to hear that.", says Nora, the lead girl.
The others nod, though Nora's taller friend quietly nudges her.
"Don't let Radraan hear you say that, he'll put in a bad word with the Slayer..."
"I'll say what I like. I go to services like anyone else. Anyways, sir, it doesn't look like anyone knows who your kin might be. Maybe they picked up an' moved on a while ago. Don't be so glum, though..."
She pins a carnation to Galwynn's lapel.
"... there. All you need is to get into the spirit of the Carnival, play a game or two or listen to one of Talbot's songs. You'll feel better, you'll see."
The girls walk off into the throng, waving to the young sorcerer. A lot of applause is coming from the elder rod duels; seems someone just won. The archery competition will likely start soon.
Dusis shakes his head to clear his mind and nod thanks to the two priests.
"Thanks, Jonas but like my mother said .If you don't want to get wet , you should not swim . You won the bout fair and square . The prize is yours. Now , if you want to stand me a beer this evening , I won't say no "
With this , Dusis walks back to Amaya and says to her :
"Sorry I did not win there but your people were too fast for me . My style is more slow and steady "
The burly man grins.
"You're a fine sport, lad, and a devil with a rod. I won't want to face you in another year or so, I reckon. Consider your beer on me, then."Amaya gently dabs Dusis' bruise with a cool rag.
"Well, you're still my champion anyways. And you did very well; if you won't take old Jonas' consolation prize, I'll have to give you one of my own..."
The girl leans in on tip-toes and plants a quick kiss on the barbarian's cheek.
"Would you care to escort me to the archery contest, or do you prefer to be off your feet?"
After the girls leave, Galwynn hears the call for the archery contest. He pulls out his bow and begins to string it in preperation for the competition.
Dusis smiles at the kiss .
"I'll be glad to be your escort for the rest of the day . Your kiss has revitalized me :)"
The archery competition is held on the outskirts of town. A straw bail with a canvas pulled over it painted with a red bull's eye serves as the target. Two stakes with a taut rope mark the line where competitors stand to fire. Each competitor gets three arrows to fire on the target. The contestants that get closest to the center goes on to the next round, after the target is moved further back. The winner receives a fine new quiver and 10 masterwork arrows.
There are five competitors besides Galwynn, testing their bows and ready to take their mark.
Galwynn's first arrow hits the mark dead on, to a round of applause from the gathered spectators. The second and third hit ensure the young sorcerer a spot in the next round.
Competitors:
1-
2-
3-
4-
5-
All of his competitors have similar (though often inconsistent) results.
The target is moved back thirty feet to prove a more difficult target. (AC is now 15; three more shots please.)
Rolls for Galwynn's second round:
It looks as though Galwynn will be eliminated on the second round before his last arrow gets within a few inches of the mark. The townsfolk clap and the young sorcerer is still in the running for that new quiver...
Opponents:
1:
2:
3:
4:
5:
... until the last three competitors land near-perfect shots. Galwynn is clapped on the back along with the other three eliminated archers and he is wished better luck next year.
The archery competition goes on for two more rounds before an elderly farmer is given the quiver and arrows, presented by the Rivermaster with a firm handshake and a hearty thanks to everyone who participated.
While the horse rounds are set up, a huge meal is layed out for the people of Trela and their visitors. Wine, ale and cider is in abundance along with fish, fowl, venison and various rice and potato dishes. Fresh-baked bread, apples and peaches sit with fine baked tarts. Talbot, the town minstrel, strikes up an instrumental tune to accompany your dining- but not before heaping a plate high for himself later.
Jonas, Dusis' last match in the elder rods, approaches the Albadian and his escort with a large bottle in hand.
"Got that brew I promised, lad: Burok Torn stout. Managed to get my hands on some a few weeks back and I thought I'd let it age a bit. Whatta ya say, let's see if them dwarves know what they're doin', eh?"
Sitting, he pours a flagon of the thick stout for each of you (though Amaya only gets a bit, seeing as she's half your size).
Meanwhile, a weather-beaten farmer and a man who appears to be half-elven approaches Lugdro.
"I couldn't help overhearing you're a shepherd, lad. What breeds do you typically raise up north?", asks the farmer.
"Do you like the goat cheese? Fresh from my own flock, it is.", adds the half-elf with a measure of pride.
Galwynn winds up seated by the Belsamites Radraan and Maro. The two priests sit under the shade of an awning, the elder priest smiling his lizard smile and making pleasantries. A red-haired woman with a permanent scowl sits beside him, at odds with the revelry of the townsfolk.
"My young friend,"says the priest,"you did very well in the archery competition. Are you a caravan guard, by chance?"
Galwynn winds up seated by the Belsamites Radraan and Maro. The two priests sit under the shade of an awning, the elder priest smiling his lizard smile and making pleasantries. A red-haired woman with a permanent scowl sits beside him, at odds with the revelry of the townsfolk."My young friend,"says the priest,"you did very well in the archery competition. Are you a caravan guard, by chance?"
Galwynn glances at the priest, trying to keep his discomfort from being noticed. "No, I'm not," he says. "I guess you could say I'm a wandering scholar."
Lugdro meanders about the festivities conversing with people as the opportunity presents itself. He seeks out the name of the blacksmith's daughter so that he can call on her to congratulate her for her performance. The spirit of competition has been pretty soundly knocked out of him though, and he doesn't plan on taking part in any more of the games beyond the spectator role.
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Maro had been distracted by a combination of stuffing venison into his mouth and eyeing one of the young women across the way, who was flirting openly with one of the other losers of the archery contest, but at Galwyn's comment, turns to regard the man.
"For a wandering scholar, you seem quite skilled with the bow, which is no trivial weapon to master." His head leans back as he speaks, receding further into the shadows, to get a clearer look at the man next to him, casting more of his face in shadow. Gesturing with a piece of roasted venison that he has been eating, he asks, "Do you hunt game?" before finishing this last piece.
Sitting leisurely with an arm around Amaya, Dusis smiles at Jonas :
" I have been told that dwarves are not versatile but rather experts at the few things the know to do "
After tasting the beer
"Heady brew. We'd better eat something with this or we'll miss the rest of the festivities "
Turning to Amaya
" Do you want anything in particular , my sweet ? "
Bronwyn, the blacksmith's daughter, clasps Lugdro's offered hand firmly.
"Thanks, friend.,"she says,"I reckon I'm through competing for the time being myself. Please, have a seat with us."
She sits down next to a tall, thin lad with a thin scar running across his cheek. You remember that he was a competitor in the archery competition. He did fairly well.
"Hullo.", he says quietly. He doesn't meet your eye.
Amaya shakes her head at Dusis' offer.
"Oh no, I'm a big girl. I can help myself. But try the venison; my father prepared it himself."
Maro had been distracted by a combination of stuffing venison into his mouth and eyeing one of the young women across the way, who was flirting openly with one of the other losers of the archery contest, but at Galwyn's comment, turns to regard the man.
"For a wandering scholar, you seem quite skilled with the bow, which is no trivial weapon to master." His head leans back as he speaks, receding further into the shadows, to get a clearer look at the man next to him, casting more of his face in shadow. Gesturing with a piece of roasted venison that he has been eating, he asks, "Do you hunt game?" before finishing this last piece.
"When I have to," Galwynn says. "And I studied at the Barrowhill War College before I became a scholar."
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"When I have to," Galwynn says. "And I studied at the Barrowhill War College before I became a scholar."
Maro's eyebrows raise, "That is impressive! I have never been out of New Venir, and you are so travelled. Our little festival must seem seem a bit rustic."
On the one hand, he seems genuinely interested in the conversation, but his attention wanders, as his eyes dart over the crowd, as if perhaps looking for someone.
"Greetings to you both, I am Lugdro of the Kaprikine Clan. Congratulations to you both on your showings in the games. Your village shows great hospitality letting outsiders like me join in to your festival." He rubs his head where he was couted and chuckles, "Well, aside from the thuggish blacksmith's daughter, I assure you!"
The lass chuckles and slugs Lugdro playfully in the arm.
"Keep that up and I'll clout you another just as sound!", replies Bronwyn,"I'm glad old Jonas has decided to leave this as his last yeah in the rounds. Old dog can still swing a rod like no one's business. I guess we're all just lucky that Jonegar can't compete while he runs things."
Bronwyn jerks her thumb to a burly, hard-looking half-orc seated by the River-Master at the far end of one large table.
"I thought that Albadian was sure to give him a run for his money, but I guess he was worn down. Do you know him? This, uh, what was his name, darlin'?"
"Dusis, I think.", responds the quiet lad,"He's walking around someplace with my cousin."
"Ah, right. Glad I didn't have to face him, though I reckon it wouldn't have turned out different."
She rubs at a bruise in her shoulder. The boy next to her rests a hand on her back.
"When I have to," Galwynn says. "And I studied at the Barrowhill War College before I became a scholar."
Maro's eyebrows raise, "That is impressive! I have never been out of New Venir, and you are so travelled. Our little festival must seem seem a bit rustic."
On the one hand, he seems genuinely interested in the conversation, but his attention wanders, as his eyes dart over the crowd, as if perhaps looking for someone.
Radraan nods, seeming suitably impressed by Galwynn's admission.
"Indeed! A warrior-scholar, like the ancient lines of Lede far to the north. It would seem the Victors have blessed a man with such varied talents!"
The scowling redhead next to Radraan turns an appraising eye to Galwynn.
"Or a Titan, perhaps. What other talents might you possess Master Galwynn, if I may ask?"
Radraan takes her hand and laughs lightly.
"Oh, Paransala my dear, why ruin the fine lunch with talk of the Defeated and veiled accusations. Entirely unbecoming of you. Please, Master Galwynn, pay my friend no heed."
Paransala holds her glare a few moments longer before returning her attention to the rest of the Carnival.
"At least they got rid of the pig-wrestling this year...", she grumbles.
"Indeed.", the sour woman responds,"One could say the same for Titanspawn, though we could certainly hope the meat wouldn't be on the menu."