Pathfinder [IC]

[Timaoh]

As you arrive in the small village of Sandpoint you all notice that there is an air of festivity and celebration that is palpable throughout the area surrounding the small village. Even though it is nearing mid afternoon when most businesses and shops begin preparations to close for the day most are still bustiling with activity. There are a number of people moving about bussily but not franticly going about their jobs. There is a sense of anticipation and collective tension as though something has been building up for some time and is finally at the cusp of overflowing.

The autumn air feels cool on your face as you walk around the village taking in your surroundings. There seem to be many people who travelled from outside the village to be here for the festivities. There are others like yourself, road-weary and travel-stained they stare at their surroundings much as you are.

There are still a few hours left of daylight which you can use to explore or secure a room at one of the villages inns. However it seems that the rooms might be sparse with as many visitors as this and the village being relatively small, and unaccostomed to such sudden increases of population.



--ENTER the PC's--

[Benejeseret]

Broad shoulders parted the crowd. Even if those shoulders where barely above waist height to most of the passers by, the dwarf's wide frame granted him some space and reprieve within the busy town. But he couldn't see a damnable thing.

"Bah, humans. Always rushin' like its the bleeding end of the world." the warrior mutters to no one.

He makes his way into the harbour docks and looks around the ships moored there. He ponders the cost of a long voyage south as his hand cups his meagre coin-purse while thinking, This lot will never get me passage. Guess I'm forced to setup shop in this hole and make some gold.

He finds a nearby dockworker and asks, "Hey, skinny, how come everyone heres got themselves running in circles?"

[Torger]

Daffyd

Cresting a hill, Daffyd pauses to take in the scene of the town before him. Seems small enough... It can't be too much different from home.

Resettling his pack on his shoulders, the slim man whistles shrilly, calling a loping wolf from the wood. He knells in front of the animal and scratches its ears. Now, Sétanta... You go and hunt. You remember what happened last time we took you into town... I'll whistle if I need you.

Patting the animal on the flank, Daffyd stands and moves toward the ton, surprised by the apparent bustle and goings-on. He waylays a passer-by for a couple of inquiries.

Your pardon, Miss, but I am new to your town, and wonder if you might be able to assist me? I had hoped to speak with a herbalist, to secure lodgings for the night and... could you tell me hat's going on?

Compared to the others in the town, Daffyd must look something of a sight. Dressed in traditional Cambrian garb, his homespun garments are a myriad of colours, looking more like the performers of other nations than a healer or ordinary traveler.

Physical description:
Daffyd stands ~5'8, and is of a slight build. He has a youthful appearance, and unruly hair of a chestnut brown. His eyes are a piercinb blue, like glacial ice, and his cloth are... loud. A saffron-coloured linen shirt beneath a short, kilted jacket that is half blue and half tartan. The sleeves of the jacket seem to be designed to expose much of the fabric of the undergarment, which is intricately embroidered up to around mid-forearm. On his legs, he has a pair of tight-fitting trews, and is wearing leather half-boots on his feet.

Rolls

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Zed's Dead]

Lars approaches Sandpoint just as the last rays of the sun are beginning to fade. Taj is silent, gliding overhead.
She loves this time of night, Lars mumbles to himself.

Her belly is full of the meat of two plump young rabbits, and Lars' sack holds the bodies of their brothers.

The Forest-Lord does provide. Lars smiles in the growing dark.

I guess I'll make my camp here and head into town for a pint while my fire makes some good coals. Taj lights on a fallen log next to Lars.

With a practiced hand, Lars gathers wood, makes a fire, skins the rabbits, banks the coals, and surrounds his camp with camoflaging branches.

Keep watch for me, Taj. I'll be back shortly.

Lars walks cautiously down into the villiage of Sandpoint.

On the surface, Lars is a mountaineer, pure and simple. His beard is thick and tangled. His hair is a next laced with briars, twigs, and leaves, his nose is a crooked, swolen mass of tissue which whistles when he exerts himself. He eats what he finds, and he sleeps in ditches or the hollows of trees. He wears hide armor (unskillfully assembled by his own hand) and carries a cudgel, a spear, and a sack. He's wearing rough sun-tanned leather, and he smells as rough as he looks. When (if) he grins, it will as often as not come across as unsettling rather than disarming.
Spot 1d20+4
Listen 1d20+8

[Zed's Dead]

Spot [roll0]
Listen [roll1]

[Timaoh]

The Notice Board




Sandpoint Cathedral (1)
Sandpoint Garrison (10)
Sandpoint Town Hall (11)
Sandpoint Theater (25)
Sandpoint Market (35)
Sandpoint Mercantile League (40)
Turandarok Academy (27)

Hanah's Infirmary (45)

Savah's Armory (12)
Rovanky Tannery (14)
Red Dog Smithy (15)
The Pillbug's Pantry (16)
Bottled Solutions (17)
The Curious Goblin (22)
Sandpoint Boutique (41)
The Feathered Serpent (44)
General Store (26)
Grocer's Hall (29)
Vernah's Fine Clothing (30)
Goblin Squash Stables (38)

The White Deer (3)
Risa's Place (13)
Cracktooth's Tavern (18)
Sandpoint Savories (21)
The Hagfish (33)
The Rusty Dragon (37)
Fatman's Feedbag (42)



Benejeseret
The dock worker looks at you for a moment with cold eyes and hooking his thumbs in his rope belt that looks frayed and barely serviceable nods towards a large board at the entrance to the docks. "Well... ah mahself jhust ghot hin tohday..." Taking a moment he spits a blackish substance onto the docks over his shoulder and gracelessly wipes the back of his hand across his mouth smearing the substance across his cheek. He tries a few more times until the smear is gone. "buht mah guess his that it has sohmthin' tah do with that fehstivhal they be havin' here." He speech is slurred more by his lack of teeth than the bottle you notice in his other hand, but in time it may become an equal culprit in his lack of enunciation.

Upon a closer inspection of the notice board you notice that there is indeed a celebration scheduled to take place. The Swallowtail festival is scheduled to take place tomorrow at midday with a large ceremony to consecrate and renew the ties of the chapel that has been rebuilt where the old one had stood. (#1 on the map) A free feast at noon, and many activities to take place later in the day although details are sparse. There is also the mention of a bonfire and what will most likely be the highlight of the festival, a large bonfire to finish the celebration which should last into the night.

You also notice that there are several job postings asking for aide and work to be had preparing for several parts of the festival itself. Ranging from posting fliers, cleaning up, or setting up chairs, there is work to be found in preparing for the festival. Most of the jobs available are at local taverns and the ledger of the notice board also lists the many proprietors of Sandpoint.


Daffyd
She seems taken aback as you stop her but warms up immediately at seeing your appearance. "Oh well hello there. Are you going to be performing at the Swallowtail festival? Samantha said they would get performers but i never thought they would get a jester. I told her so but it looks like she was right after all. That's just like her to know these kinds of things though because her dad is an important man in town. He always gets to go away on important business and visit strange places and..." She trails on for a few minutes talking more to herself than to you. She finally remembers your questions and quickly apologizes for having let her tongue run off like that. "I'm sorry, i do let myself get carried away sometimes. The excitement? That's because of the festival all day tomorrow at the chapel in the north part of town. If you want a place to stay you could try any number of the inns i guess. 'Risa's Place' (13) can be nice but sometimes her, ahem" She clears her throat clearly uncomfortable, "condition can catch visitors off guard. Then there is 'The White Deer' (3). A bit high brown for my liking." She smiles demurely, "and quite a bit out of my price range. Then there is always 'Cracktooth's tavern' if you'd like to entertain tonight before you perform tomorrow. They always have an open stage and maybe you can even get free lodging if your performance goes over well. Then again 'The Hagfish' (33) has some of the best most exotic meals i have ever tried, spicy and sweet, and at the same time refreshing. 'The Rusty Dragon' (37) has been around since i was a little girl and my pa always said it was the best. He hasn't eaten there in years though he still brags about how the dragon on the roof used to be real and the inn keeper used to feed it and it would always come back for second helpings. I think that is just made up though. How could something so ridiculous like a dragon be anything other than a fairy tale? I mean the wings surely wouldn't even be able to carry it let alone let it maneuver properly, and all the food in the kitchen of the inn wouldn't feed one let alone get it to come back, that's just silly." Taking her town down to a whisper she confides. "There is one more tavern but i wouldn't recommend it, but some travellers have unique requirements for where they stay. 'Fatman's Feedbag' (42) is certainly an inn and i suppose you could find something to eat there but mostly it's just where the locals go to get drunk and fight." She wrinkles her face in disgust clearly not liking the idea.

"Oh my... has it really been this long that I've been talking to you?" She says looking around, the question clearly rhetorical as she walks away with quick strides to be about her business.

Lars
The street's are empty and the gate is patrolled by a dour faced guard holding a torch who opens the hole in the gate to inspect you and then lets you in as he sees little threat in one lone traveler. He asks you a few simple questions and give you directions to the Notice board in the docks which will list the inns with lodging.

The only residence you know of is 'Madame Mvashti's House' (28) Home to a cantankerous old wretch who relies on the good nature of others and volunteers to get by. Druids from the hinterlands are sent to help her from time to time and her name was supplied to you as a contact to help you as well as part of your service and training as a druid.

[Torger]

Daffyd

Daffyd bows slightly at the departing local and calls after her, Thank you very kindly, Miss. May Danu smile upon you. He continues, talking to himself, as is his habit, given the time he spends alone. Now... What was the name of the performer's rest? The lockjaw? No, Cracktooth... Perhaps I can collect new songs...


He wanders off, continuing to muse to himself under his breath, readjusting to being around people and heading in the direction the helpful young oman pointed.

[Timaoh]

Daffyd
You arrive at the tavern and notice a half-orc greeting patrons at the front entrance. Over the heads of the crowd already assembled you can see the place is nearly brimming with potential entertainers and a large number of locals who have come to hear the performances, drink, and relax after a day of hard work.

The half-orc introduces himself to you as Jesk "Cracktooth" Berinni and gives you a warm handshake as welcome. Directing you to a table or to the taproom where you can see other performers warming up. "If you're here to perform." He says in good natured tone. "I ask only that we receive a 5cp share of whatever tips you collect while on our stage. The rest you are welcome to keep as your earnings for the night. We also have some full-time and part-time positions available if you are any good, i might approach you later about that sort of thing." He finishes the rehearsed speech just in time to guide you through the doorway when he clasps hands with the next patron in line clearly recognizing them and asking with a smile about their local affairs.

You have a few hours to prepare and eat and enjoy the other entertainment before it seems there will be an opening to perform.

[Torger]

Daffyd


Nodding in acknowledgment to the half-orc, Daffyd makes his way toward the taproom, very interested in the performances of the others. I wonder if any of the songs and stories are the same... goven the leanness of his purse, Daffyd decides to tread carefully and makes his way toward the bar.

[Benejeseret]

The sour dwarf looks over the posting. Seeing the hope of a few coin and lodging available at the taverns he heads for the nearest inn.

"Fatman's Feedbag eh? These humans got one weird vein of sense running through em," he comments as reading the sign over head. He shrugs and then goes to enter the tavern.

[Segial]

Jubrayl

Jubrayl was checking the posting as well to see if he could make some extra money before the festival tomorrow, when he notices the dwarf, and after a short consideration, decides to follow him.

Before the dwarf enters the tavern, Jubrayl walks up to him and puts his hand on his shoulder. "Welcome to Sandpoint, Sir Dwarf. My name is Jubrayl, I'm one of the locals. You must be here for the festival, one of the great things about it is that lots of travelers come to town. You've been to places as well, right? How about we go in and you share some stories from your travels, and I'll make sure your mug is never empty while you tell your tales. Sounds good?" he says, his eyes beaming with curiousity.

[Benejeseret]

The dwarf is visibly startled and coughs, "By Torag's beard Towny, don't you know better than to go sneaking up on a Janderhoff Dwarf?" Grak'n squares his shoulders and tries to act unaffected, "Could have lost yer hand, maybe yer whole arm. We Dwarves are known to have reflexes like a northern wildcat don't ya know."

He looks the lad over, "but I suppose it's fer the best really, cause without that hand ya couldn't be passin' me drinks. Let's be inside."

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch, Dwarven Druid

Lars made is way through the empty streets of Sandpoint to the notice board.

'Madame Mvashti's House'

Ah. Just as Taj said. Interesting.

Lars locates Mvashti's on the map and walks slowly and carefully down the street. His shield and his cudgel are at the ready.

If unempeded, he taps on the door with his cudgel.

Listen [roll0] and Spot [roll1]

[Benejeseret]

(OOC: sorry, forgot to check OOC thread regularly. Here is the spot check if it is still relevant.)

requested spot check [roll0]

[Segial]

Jubrayl

Jubrayl enters the tavern, and after greeting a few locals, sits down at an empty table. He gives the bartender a sign for two beer and then turns to his dwarven companion.

"So, where are you from?" he says.

[Benejeseret]

"Janderhoff, my clan's been there fer many mines now. Good solid town that one...it's just gotten a bit cold fer my likings this season. Thought I'd try my luck down here with you lot."

When the mugs arrive he eager goes to down a sip, but pauses, "Grak'n, my name that is," and proceeds to drain half the cup.

"Now this festival, you lot aren't the sort to go around throwing flowers everywhere with no shirts on around a pole all night are ya?" He asks while nervously eying the barmaid, a blush creeping up the edges of his beard. "Brak from my clanhold talks allot about you westerners, may be a load a hog wash comin' outa that one though."

[Timaoh]

@ Benejeseret The spot was resolved without the check. Don't worry about it now.

Lars
Approaching the door and rapping on it solidly you can hear someone shuffling about inside the enormous mansion that stands in front of you. A little worse for wear with flaking whiteboards and a poarch that leans slightly downhill the house is nonetheless still an impressive sight. It rivals the other larger dwellings within Sandpoint and the large parcel of land that it occupies seems to denote a significance as well. Just as you figure noone will answer the door and are about to rap again the door opens and you hear a muffled explitif from within the darkened confines. A slight glowing flicker of candlight illuminates the hagard and tired face of a woman who has seen far too many years than is healthy for her race. IT has also seemed to have an impact on her mood and disposition towards visiters at ungodly hours of the night.

Cussing at you you see a cane arc towards you through the opening in the doorway barely missing your face by inches as you try to see inside. "Whatsamatter withyou? Wakingme upin themiddle ofthe nightlikethat." Her speech is slurred together as she swings with her cane in one hand while attempting to affix her dentures properly with the other. "Ifyou're sellingiaint buyingnothin' especiallyat thishour ofthenight. No commonsense nowadays. Damnyoung whippersnappers. No respect either." Finally arranger her teeth to her liking her hard concenents draw a sharp whistle as she talks. "Well dont jusssst ssstand there like a dolt. WHAT DO YOU WANT?" She asks irritated and clearly impatient.

Grak'n & Jubrayl
Taking a seat at one of the manny table in the Fatman's Feedbag. You take the time to look around at the other tables and patrons crowding the establishment as the bartender hurries to bring you two ales. You notice a few things as you sit there waiting for your ale. All of the seeming regulars have a common trait: Girth. You then notice the large portions offered in both mead and meal. The owner of this tavern must subscribe to the belief that quantity outweighs quality. This is reinforced as your tankards arrive at your table, standing nearly 16" tall and half as wide as they are tall these tankards are overly large to say the least.

A fat man in an apron eyes you both as he sets the mugs down and holds out his hand "At'll be 3." He says waiting for payment before he moves away.

The last realisation you have dawns on you as your mugs are nearly half empty and the room becomes uncomfortably loud. With mugs this size the fights in this tavern will start early and last through the night.

--Roll Initiative--



Daffyd
Watching as the performers mostly locals and regulars it would seem, recount tales of adventure in their youth and mischievous nights spent out hunting there is little of intrigue or interest at first. There is one performance that is met with a large applause as two halfling brothers beat eachother near senseless with all manner of props and finished with a pie fight to everyone's delight. Except for those in the first row who were engaged in the pie throwing as a consequence of sitting too near the stage. As the night draws on there is one performance that stands out. A young-ish girl who seems to be in her midyears stands in the centre of the stage and sings a sad dirge in elven. The song speaks of a love lost to a terrible tradgedy and how life could not possibly get any worse. When the character of the song find her lover was not lost at all to the tradgedy as it was believed, the song rises in a hopeful and long suspended note of exstacy. However the happy moment is short lived as she finds her lover in the arms of another and the deception was a ruse so they could be together. The song rises in pitch and tempo as it details her spiral into madness and her actions take on a tone of frantic struggle with sanity itself. Finally she loses herself in it and wakes to find herself and her surroundings covered in blood the corpse of her lover and the other with him at her feet lifeless. Histerical at this point she takes her own life and the life of the child she was carrying at the time. His child... The song ends on a somber note of infelection and warning about the many emotions love can bring, from happiness, to deciet, to vengeance, even madness, and regret.

The room is silent and there is scattered applause as the song was both haunting and disturbing even without the lyrics it would be a strange song. You look about the room and notice the mood has turned sour from what had before been festive. There is noone willing to go on stage after such a beautiful and at the same time disasterous performance such as that.

(unless you are willing...)

[Torger]

Daffyd

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Daffyd downs the remainder of his pint, makes a slight face at the resin from the dregs, and makes for the stage. Hopefully, this can divert the crowd...

Greetings, friends... I hope this day finds you well. I would like, with your permission, to share with you what is known as a "Drinking song." His delivery is deliberately faux-scholarly, and is, he hopes, helping to lighten the tension as he continues to speak with false gravitas about a most ridiculous subject. Now, among my people, there are two varieties of drinking songs -- the ones written the morning after, which are almost universally painful and boring, and the ones written the same night as the stuff is being consumed. This is, I regret to inform you, one of the latter, and deals with a mystical potation known as Whiskey, if you're familiar with it. If not, Whiskey is a grain alcohol that derives its name from the Cambrian, "uisge beatha," which the scholarly amongst you may know means, "The Water of Life." Specifically, this song refers to the home-made variety commonly called potcheen, or the craythur, or the stuff, or the drop, or, really, any of a myriad of names. This is a song entitled, "Stick to the Craythur," and it goes exactly like this... (http://netrite.ca/obrien/music/12%20Stick_To_The_Craythur.mp3)


Lyrics:
All of your quacks in the papers are cuttin' their capers
on curin' the vapours, the cramp, and the gout
With their medical notions, their serums and potions
Upholding their notions, they're mighty put-out.
Who can tell the true physic to all that's pathetic,
and kick to the divil cramp, colic, and spleen?
You'll know it, I think, if you takes a big drink
With your mouth on the brink of a jug of potcheen.

So stick to the Craythur, the best thing in nature,
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys...
Oh, what botheration, no dose in the nation
Can give consolation like potcheen, me boys?

As a child in my cradle, my nurse with her ladle
Was fillin' my mouth with a notion of pap.
When a drop from the bottle fell into me throttle,
I capered and scrambled right out o' her lap.
On the floor I was crawlin', and screamin' and bawlin',
'Till Father and Mother were called to the fore
All sobbin' and sighin'. They feared I was dyin',
But soon they found out I was cryin' for more.

So stick to the Craythur, the best thing in nature,
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys...
Oh, Lord, how they'd chuckle if babes in their truckle,
They only could suckle on potcheen, me boys.

Through my youthful aggression and times of depression
My childhood impression stood firm in my mind.
At school or at College, the basis of knowledge
I only could gulp once with whiskey combined.
Now, as older I'm growin', time's ever bestowin'
On that fine Potation a flavour so fine,
And howe'er you may lecture on Job and his nectar,
itself is the only true liquid divine.

So stick to the Craythur, the best thing in nature,
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys...
To be sure, 'tis no wonder that lightning and thunder
Are 'stilled from the plunder of Potcheen, me boys.

Come guess me this riddle -- What beats pipes or fiddle?
What's hotter than mustard and milder than cream?
What best whets your whistle? What's clearer than crystal?
What's sweeter than honey and stronger than steam?
What would make the dumb talk? What would make the lame walk?
The Elixir of Life and Philosopher's Stone?
And what helped Mr. Brunnel to dig the Thames Tunnel?
Sure, wasn't it potcheen from old Innisown?

So stick to the Crayther, the best thing in nature
For sinkin' your sorrows and raisin' your joys.
To be sure, it's the right thing for courting and fighting,
There's none so exciting as potcheen, me boys.

Now, all you maidens pathetic with lovers athletic
For liquid cosmetic, you can't be the drop.
It'll colour your cheek. It'll make his knees week.
It'd whiten a stallion and cure the old hob.
From his mouth, he'd then drool, be reduced to a fool,
As you kick up your heels, and you strip to the buff,
And it's you'll be athletic while he is pathetic,
If only you'd take a wee drop o' the Stuff.

So stick to the Craythur, the best thing in nature
For sinkin' your sorrows, and raisin' your joys.
For there's nothin' like Whiskey to make maidens frisky.
It soon separates all the men from the boys...

Hopefully relieving the tension, Daffyd will take a bow and step down (if allowed and not tossed out on his ear), and seek out the Maid who had the dirge. Daffyd has a thing for lovers laments, and has made it his personal mission to collect as many as possible. The one she sung is thematically similar to one of his favourites, and he is very interested in "Talking Shop," as it were.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch, The Bastard of the Woods - Dwarven Druid

Lars Larch the Bast...uhhh of the Circle of the Green. Early to bed and whatnot, eh, Grandmother?

I was summoned to Sandpoint to meet with you and to offer what assistance I could give, but as you was in bed, I'll let ya sleep, and return when the sun's up and you are too.


Lars gives a clumsy bow, turns, and strides toward the street.

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n

The dwarf lets his eyes wander from the barkeep's open hand to his towny companion, before quetly resting again on the oversized mug.

The crowd looks ready to pop. Just like back home during a good dwarven kegfest....of course, some of these locals looks like they might not share the Dwarven sense of brawl honour. At the taste of the human ale, and the suryl room, he tensed.

initiative [roll0]

[Timaoh]

Daffyd

The crowd seems appreciative for the distraction and warms up quite quickly to the humor (those that get it) and some laugh simply because others are. Soon the tavern roars to life again with chatter and even some dancing as one of the performers from earlier catches your tune midway through and does his best to match the tone and tempo as you recite the lines. After the last note fades away there is some noise as patrons clap and bang their mugs against their tables in appreciation. A few toss coins to the stage as the noise dies down their eyes settle on you expectantly as they wait in anticipation for another song, or the next performer.

[roll0]

Grak'n & JubraylThe bartender tires of waiting for payment and turns away walking back to the bar and the customers that have started to gather there. Over his shoulder he says to Jubrayl, I'll start a tab this once but i'll come see you with some of the lads if you don't pay promptly. The few men staggering and swaying at the bar cheer as the bartender approaches them and slam fists of copper down on the bar as he serves them their tankards.

One of the men clearly not on his first tankard staggers drunkenly towards one of the other men not noticing his collision course. Swerving to avoid him he bumps into one of the more attractive waitresses (by human standards) and sends her careening towards a roup of burly men. She seems to regain her balance just in time but is unable to right all of the drinks she had been carrying, and her mouth opens wide in horror and shock as it tumbles through the air in slow motion to land with a wet and soappy sploosh in the lap of what looks like one of the biggest men in the place. "Damnit Mimsy watch where you're going! What oaf is responsible for this?" The man yells darring someone from the crowd to speak up. The waitress whose name must be Mimsy rushes over with a tower and deftly does her best to dry off the foam and ale that covers most of the burly man. Grabbing her around her waist the man speaks to her in low tones that noone can hear, although his intentions are clear. Her head hangs a little and then she nods. He releases his hold on her and she scurries away eager to get back to her job and the less demanding attention of others in the bar.

The man stands and starts shoving people around looking for the culprit who started the whole mess. After shoving and accusing a few people the big man grows tired of the 'tactful' approach and just starts swinging at the drunkards around him. Yells of "FIGHT!" course through the establishment and before you can react the regulars have the majority of tables and chairs up against the walls and out of the way. Leaving the two of you sitting and drinking at your table in what is quickly turning into a medieval mosh pit.

LarsThe old woman eyes you disapprovingly and before you can make excuses and dash off into the night she catches you off guard. "Oh no you don't. You, young man are going to learn some manners now that you have so rudely woken me up." Her aged and wrinkled hand shoots out and clamps onto your ear like a vise, her nails digging in painfully and expertly as though she is accustomed to inflicting pain in this manner and has honed the ability to a razor's sharpness. Dragging you into the house she shuts the door firmly and locks it. Dropping the key into her sagging bossom and nightgown which you now realise is far too filmy and translucent in the light of the interior for someone of her age and *cough* beauty, she reguards you as you watch her trying to free yourself from her grasp. "You like what you see?" She asks seeing your eyes linger on the key and misinterpreting the gaze intentionally. "Don't get any ideas! The standards of acceptance must be low in your order these days. They keep sending the worst of the lot to help me. Like it's some kind of right of passage or initiation, i get all the trouble makers." She walks away from you expecting you to follow.

You notice that while her grip was firm and steady her gait is awkward, as if one of her legs were badly mangled and never healed properly. She hobbles along unconcerned droning on about her troubles and your lack of manners. After taking several turns through well appointed hallways you come at last to the kitchen and she grabs a kettle that was just beginning to steep and pouring herself a cup offers you one as well. Leaving the kettle for you to pour yourself one or not as you will. She sits down on a well worn padded chair and watches you as she sips noisily from her cup, pinky finger raised daintily despite its gnarled gauntness, and the sharp curled nail at its tip.

"So you have come to ask for aide or to provide it? Both must be done to garner the other but which would you have first? Both will often reflect on the quality of the other that comes as the latter." She raises an eyebrow waiting for your response, still sipping her tea.

[Torger]

Daffyd

Set at ease by his reception, the performer in Daffyd can't resist giving another before departing. I thank you kindly, friends. I will now depart and allow my betters to resume the stage, but in parting I would like to sing one more song. Now, be warned. This is a cautionary tale of the falsehood of the fairer sex, and is, I'm afraid to say, somewhat more autobiographical than I would have liked... Drawing his harp onto the stage with him, Daffyd begins his next performance piece. (http://netrite.ca/obrien/music/Courtin.mp3)


Come single, belle, and beau, unto me now pay attention.
Don't ever fall in love, it's the divil's own invention.
For once I fell in love with a maiden so bewitchin',
Miss Henrietta Bell, down in Captain Kelly's kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

At the age of seventeen, I was 'prenticed to a grocer
Not far from Stephen's Green, where Miss Bell for tea would go, sir.
Her manners were so free, she set me heart a-twitchin'
When she invited me down in Captain Kelly's kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

Next Sunday bein' the day we were to have the flare-up,
I dressed myself quite gay, an' I frizzed and oiled my hair up.
The Captain had no wife, he had gone out a-fishin',
So we kicked up high life, below-stairs in the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

Just as the clock struck six we sat down to the table
She served me tea and cakes --- I ate while I was able,
I ate cakes, drank punch and tea, till my side had got a stitch in
And the hours flew quick away, while courtin' in the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

With her arms around my waist, she slyly hinted marriage,
When to the door in haste came old Captain Kelly's carriage!
Her looks told me full well that moment she was wishin'
That I'd get out to Hell, or somewhere far from the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

She flew up off my knees, full seven feet or higher,
And over heads and heels, threw me slap into the fire.
My new Repealers coat, that I'd bought from Mrs. Stichen
With a thirty-shilling note, went to blazes in the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

I grieved to see my duds, all besmeared with smoke and ashes,
When a tub of dirty suds, right in my face she dashes.
As I lay on the floor, still the water she kept pitchin'
Till the footman broke the door, and marched into the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

When the Captain came downstairs, and seen my situation,
In spite of all my prayers, I was marched off to the station.
For me they'd take no bail, tho' to get home I was itchin'.
I had to tell the tale of how I got in the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

I said she did invite me, but she gave a flat denial.
For assault she did indict me, and I was sent for trial.
She swore I robbed the house, in spite of all her screechin',
And I got six months hard, for my courtin' in the kitchen.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

With my toora loora la, and my toora loora laddy
My toora loora la, my toora loora laddy.

[roll0]

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch, The Bastard of the Woods - Dwarven Druid

Lars allows himself to be dragged into the ancient structure. His first impulse is to tear himself away, march back to his campsight, and roast his rabbits. Instead, he hears Dirkesha's words:

"Patience, Lars. There is always more beneath the surface than it first appears." Lars crouches at the edge of the stream, watching the heron as it stands in the running water. "Watch how he waits for the right moment." Suddenly, the heron's head darts into the water and emerges with a large, wriggling trout protruding from his beak. "He doesn't miss today because he has missed before, and he has learned from his failure. Think about it before you try to snatch a fish."

Bollocks. Lars whispers to himself as the crone drags him through the elaborate, crumbling entryway. But he knows Dirkesha was right. He would see this through--his first official mission after months of wandering the wilds. He hoped he would get a chance to do something worthwhile...but right now, he just hopes the old woman's hearing is as bad as her right leg.


...she reguards you as you watch her trying to free yourself from her grasp. "You like what you see?" She asks seeing your eyes linger on the key and misinterpreting the gaze intentionally.

Lars smiles broadly at this. Got spunk, she has.

Lars stands a few feet from the old woman and waits as she pours her tea and settles herself. He lets the kettle sit on the stove. Townies often didn't know what the hell they're doing when they mix herbs with hot water. It'd more likely work as a laxative or a poison than an energizing drink.


"So you have come to ask for aide or to provide it? Both must be done to garner the other but which would you have first? Both will often reflect on the quality of the other that comes as the latter." She raises an eyebrow waiting for your response, still sipping her tea.

Madame Mvashti, ya caught my ear twice. I hear ya. I am called by The Green to serve, so I'll serve. I walked blind outa the woods tonight inta a town I don't know. I don't know how hasty I need ta be with my Sandpoint mission. I don't know wha ya need, besides a carpenter, some fresh paint, and a new leg. Yer my contact, so you tell me.


Lars pauses for a moment while she considers him, and then audibly swallows his pride.

Please.

[Segial]

Jubrayl

"Well, Sir Dwarf, I guess you're about to find out how we party in this part of the world. Lets have some fun" With a wide grin and one swift motion, Jubrayl drains his tankard, slams it on the table, stands up, turns around and throws a punch at the first man coming for him.

To Hit:
[roll0]-1

Damage
[roll1]-1

[Benejeseret]

"What, this is just ok with everybody Towny?" The dwarf questions his a-moment-ago drinking mate. "Here I thought drinking halls were for drinking."

He stands hesitantly is a defencive stance and raises his cuffs. Grak'n prepares to defend himself and Jubrayl, but does not directly pursue a fight.

Fighting Defensively. Readied Action: punch any brawler who attacks him or Jubrayl.

If someone attacks he first gets to punch them [roll0] for non-lethal [roll1] damage.

to save time, if that brawler or a second attacks unarmed, his AoO is [roll2] to hit for [roll3] damage unless your ignoring all unarmed AoO due to everyone being unarmed

He has not wielded his shield or axe yet so his AC=19 with defencive fighting.

[Timaoh]

Grak'n & JubraylAs the fight begins you find yourselves trapped in the centre of the room with bottles and fists flying all around you. The crowd gathered around the outside cheers and drinks as they watch. Occasionally bumped by the participants of the brawl in the centre a few more join in the fighting while others just push them back into the living mass that the centre of the tavern has become.

As the big man is shoved towards your table you both lash out at him with your fists catching him off-guard. With a loud crack his head rears back and his hands come up to grab at his shattered nose. Blood sprays from his clenched hands as he howls in pain and stomps around the small clearing growing around him. Taking one hand off of his nose he points with the other as small drops of blood fall to the floor off his fingers. A few of the observers from the outside of the ring who had been watching move in as he issues a command. "Get them!" Three wicked looking men move in closer trying to encircle the two of you even as the fight still rages around in the tavern. Two of them seem well suited for this type of revelry with scars and gnarled fingers to show their years of participation. The third however seems to be nothing more than a scrawny youth trying to prove his worth and bravery in the same night. They stand surrounding you in all 4 directions just out of reach 10 feet away, not sure who should act first. Finally the big man still holding his nose becomes annoyed with their inactivity and indecision and yells atthem all. "Get them already!" With that the three move in to grab and strike at you with their fists, knees, and whatever else they can bring to bear as they try to grab hold.

The first moves in to grapple Jubrayl and misses while his friend attacks Jubrayl hoping he would be held still and an easy target. The BigThug also moves in to attack Jubrayl but a swift punch from Grak'n to his already swolen and bloodied nose sets him to howling again and holding his nose.

The last thug the smallest of the 3 to join in hesitates and then swings at Grak'n missing horribly as his gangly arms can't seem to judge the distance very well.

The fight continues around you and the thugs don't seem like they will be giving up anytime soon.

--Round 2--


Daffyd If the crowd enjoyed the first song they loved this last one. Everyone seems to be smiling and drinking and even Jesk Cracktooth who greeted you at the door smiles up at you as he refills tankard after tankard for his thirsty customers. More coins clatter onto the stage as your performace comes to an end to many of the patrons standing and applauding as others laugh and joke about the lyrics.
There seem to be a few more performers willing to brave the stage now that the crowd is once again in a better mood and they wave to you to come off the stage from the small room. You also notice a figure lingering in the back of the tavern and amid the falling coins and the applause you manage to see that it was the girl who had performed before you. As she sees you notice her she rushes towards the door leading back to the street.
Quickly collecting the coins on the stage and making your way into the crowd there are many there to congradulate you and clap you on the back. They offer to buy you drinks, ask if you will be performing later, and a myriad of other questions as well. You watch the door close slowly behind the girl as she makes her way out of the tavern just as you free yourself from the worst of the throng of patrons.

[roll0]
[roll1] 90% or higher means you also find a silver.

[Will you stay and celebrate with them or follow the girl? Or something else entirely?]


LarsMadame Mvashti smiles as she sips her tea listening to your words. "Actually child only once have i actually caught your ear. I'm afraid you're mistaken in your counting." Smiling at her own joke she continues. "I do however appreciate your asking what is needed by me. As you can see, and so boldly pointed out, short of a powerful spell fixing my wretched leg, there is little that i need that isn't already in this house. One thing however that i have always learned is more valuable than any other is.... friends!" Letting her words sink in she pauses briefly. "I do enjoy walks with friends and talking to pass the hours, no matter how shap their tongues when they walk my halls." She looks at you in a manner that suggests her hearing is better than her leg is spry. "Perhaps if you would accompany me on a walk during the weeks you plan to stay here we can become friends and i can help you find that which you are searching for if i haven't already. I would also suggest that you search your own heart and soul to find those things that are dear to you in the wild and in your heart can also be found here in this place." Gesturing with her arms you get the impression that she is trying to show you more than just her manssion and her cleavage. Although one is just as dirty and time worn as the other.

Clasping her hands together and fixing her shawl she produces a small key. "This key will allow you entry into the guest room at the back of my estate. It is small and servicable but im sure you will find it most comfortable as long as you do not wake me again with a racket on my front door at ungodly hours of the night. You may stay as long as you like, just place the key under my front door when you no longer need a place to stay. As for our walk we can talk about that another time. For now let us just try and become friends. Hmmmmm?" With that she shooos you out the front door and leaves you standing on her stoop as she moves back through the house you can see lights wink out one by one until they are all as dark as when you first arrived.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars both puzzled and strangely pleased Madame Mvasti's generosity. Nobody but the druids has ever given him anything approaching hospitatlity. His own mother...No I won't think on that,not tonight. Lars turns the key over twice, studying it carefully, and then ties it to a leather thong which hangs about his neck. Not a bad old dame. I'll protect her and help her what I can, while I'm here. Friendship, eh? Hmmm

He wonders, not for the first time, why he has been summoned to Sandpoint, and whether the finding out of his mission here is the initial part of his task. Something he's always chafed at, under the dominion of the Circle, was the lack of plain speaking. His nature is direct, and when others weren't, it often served to confound and frustrate him. Perhaps they don't know, themselves. Great Ozan and even Dirkesha were likely to see omens in a ragged storm front or in the death of an egret.

He touches the key again, to make sure it still hangs where he left it. No good losing this, eh? he whispers to himself. I'll stay in her guest room just to please her.

Lars feels a familiar grumbling in his belly, a call for brew and for rabbit, two of his favorites.

It's been some time since I've had a beer after a nice rabbit supper, he mutters. All the better. The want of a thing gives the having of it more satisfaction, yes. The coals should be a-glowing by now.

The pathworn dwarf walks by a few of the local taverns in order to see which would be more suitable for an after-supper pint or two as he makes his way out to his banked fire and campsite.

Spot 1d20+4 Listen 1d20+8

[Zed's Dead]

Spot [roll0] Listen [roll1]

[Torger]

Daffyd

Forcing his way through the crowd, Daffyd shalkes hands and exchanges quips as quickly as he can politely manage. Thank you kindly... Yes, thanks for listening... I'll probably perform again later, yes... I'm going to get some air. Perhaps we can share a pine when I return?

Tossing roughly half his earnings to the half-orc at the bar, Daffyd darts out the door while the proverbial getting is good. The girl had the only piece thus far that interested him.

Bursting out the door, Daffyd looks wildly around for the felling sangster. Miss... Wait! Miss?

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n

"Hey now, you've made me spill me ale."

The dwarf turns to the large man egging on the crowd and unleashes a swift dwarfish pounding to his midrift to match the bloody nose.

normal unarmed attack to the leader [roll0] dealing more non-lethal bludgeoning for [roll1]

[Timaoh]

LarsWith that spot check you can easily see pools of light spilling out onto the street as you pass by several taverns of various repute. Two stand out among the others as you walk by... The first seems to be in fine company as you can clearly hear some sort of minstrel or musician playing a baudy tune about some of the finer qualities of women. The second sounds like the perfect place to join in a large brawl that seems to be spilling large portions of it's customers onto the street.
As you pass the second you can also hear the faint sound of a whistle suggesting the local watch is on the way.

Grak'n & Jubrayl You swing at the large man but he manages to avoid your blow and retaliates with one of his own as the lanky kid tries awkwardly to grab you in a headlock and fails. The big man seeing you distracted takes aim and kicks you in the most sensative of areas. <1 damage 4 subdual> Groaning as the impact of the blow does some real damage Grak'n barely manages to remain standing as his beard only cushions the blow partially. The other two thugs continue to press their attack against Jubrayl. The first thug manages to grab hold but is overpowered by Jubrayl as he moves to dodge the incoming attack from the second thug.
All around you the fight continues as the crowd cheers. Most of them are just watching but there are still one or two participants who have not been knocked unconcious in the other areas of the bar.

DaffydAs you make your way through the crown and out the door throwing Jesk his share he smiles and waves. "Come back anytime we almost always have an open stage." Finally making it through the doorway and out into the pale light of the moon as it rises low above the houses down the street you cannot see any sign of the girl who had caught your attention. However lying at your feet as though begging for your attention lies a single foot-long strand of ribbon that must have come loose from her hair as she raised her hood and ventured off into the night. Some things must not be meant to happen, and others as in stories are better when prolonged. You feel a certainty that the story between you both is not quite finished. Even though you have yet to meet her you feel certain that you will both meet again, and then next time she will not elude you so easily.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch, the Bastard of the Woods - Dwarven Druid

Lars Pauses in the street, watching a brawl rage inside the Fatman's Feedbag. He hears a whistle, and knows that the watch will soon put an end to the "fun."

There's a good time wasted. Looks like I'm a bit too late.

He trudges out to his fire and begins cooking his rabbit.

Taj screeches once in welcome from the upper branch of a nearby tree and then tucks her head under a wing to rest.

[Zed's Dead]

OOC: Lars plan is to eat his rabbit, clean up his campsite and thoroughly stomp his coals, tell Taj he's going into town, and then walk back through to the town to the Cracktooth Tavern for a pint or two, and then head back to his lodging for rest.

At the campsite:
spot [roll0] Listen [roll1]

In town:
spot [roll2] Listen [roll3]

Sorry for the double post! I had to do some rolling. Just let me know if I'm using Spot/Listen too often.

[Timaoh]

No it's fine. Sometimes i have to post 4-5 times to get every thing working for my rolls and my posts.

[Segial]

"Geez, two on one? Fine, whatever." Grabbing the second man at the shoulders, Jubrayl tries to put his knee in his stomach and push him away.

Attack:
[roll0]-1

Damage:
[roll1]-1

[Torger]

Romantic sub-plots are fun! I'm sure I'll have to compose an epic poem about losing her.

Daffyd looks wildly about the street and sees naught but the ribbon at his feet. Bending down to retrieve it, he notes a single strand of hair caught in the fibres of the tie. A parting gift, perhaps? Ah well... Perhaps I'll remain for this festival... Carefully folding the ribbon, Daffyd wraps it in a piece of embroidered linen and stashes it in his pouch, returning to the now-lively performer's rest and the fellowship therein.

[Timaoh]

Daffyd Daffyd wakes to the sunrise in a well-kept if worn room in Jesk's Tavern and checking to make sure his belongings are all still in place prepares for the day and the festivities to follow.

Lars Lars is nearly as lucky having spent the night in the small room attached to the rear or Madame Mvashti's house he awakes more refreshed than he thought possible, after a night without a beer and the companionship of his familiar, the travel must have taken more out of him than he had thought. It was a shame he had missed that brawl though, ariving just in time to find many of the participants being thrown into the back off wagons unconcious, drunk, or both. The owner had informed him that he was closed at the insistance of the local authorities although he would certainly be open tomorrow night and would welcome him then with open arms and a flowing tap.

Grak'n & JubraylYou wake to find your selves in a cold, cramped, and musty smelling room as beams of light shine painfully through barred windows. Neither of you can remember what happened but the bruises and bumps you have sustained speak for themselves. Semi-concious images of being struck on the head with cudgels rings clear enough as one of the guards walks down the line of cells letting his cudgel rap..rap..rap..rap..rap..rap..rap.. on the bars of each cell in turn. He stops in front of your cell spinning his cudge into place on his belt and smiling at you, he says. "Good mornin' boys i hope you slept well. You see we don't mind visitors here in our fair town but we do expect a few rules to be kept. Lucky for you it's a festival day and we are feeling generous otherwise i just might have kept you locked up as long as they will be." He juts his thumb in the direction of 4 slumped forms in the corner of two nearby cells. The worst off from the fight by far, one of the men has his arm in a sling while the other still has a shattered nose. All of them seem to be lost to this world still sleeping off the drink and the beating they experienced last night.
The man who by now you realise must be the sherif as indicated by the large shiny 6 pointed star he wears, looks at you both. "As i was saying. You are lucky that i was talked into being lenient on you boys because of the festival. They wont be so lucky as im sure they had more to do with this whole brawl than you did but that still doesn't excuse your actions. I expect you to behave from now on and stay out of trouble while you are in town for the festival. I'll let you out and give you some breakfast and belongings back as soon as i have your word. I think that's pretty fair. Don't you?" With that he puts his thumbs in his belt and rocks back on his heels observing you both while tracing over the hilt of his cudgle on one hilt and his longsword on the other with his fingers.
(OOC: Your wounds are all healed. However you will have a -1 to all rolls until you rest due to last night and the amount of alcohol consumed followed by being unconcious instead of sleeping.)


EveryoneThe next day comes quickly on the heels of a glorious sunrise a testament that the day will be an aggrivatingly bright day for most of you. Everyone gets 100xp for their various rp and defeating encounters. 50 bonus xp goes to Daffyd for writing and posting those songs.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars gives his morning devotional to the Forest Lord, and then makes his way to Madame Mvashti's front door. Not wanting to anger his hostess, he looks for lights and signs of movement before tapping lightly on the door.

P'raps we'll have a walk today, see the fair...I might even have a bath! Since patience is a virtue of wisdom, he'd allow his mission to unfold itself..

Lars doesn't change his spell selection.

[Torger]

Daffyd

Rising refreshed after a pleasant evening of songs and merriment, Daffyd re-gathers his possessions and quits the room. Entering the common room, Daffyd makes brief, but pleasant conversation with the serving staff, securing a meal to go, as well as a treat for Sétanta.

Leaving the inn, Daffyd makes his way for the edge of town, whistling shrilly as he crosses over the treeline, summoning his errant companion. Selecting a nice, sun-dappled grove, he sets aside his provisions, and begins his morning prayer rituals.


No spell changes

[Benejeseret]

"Aye sir. Sorry fer gettin' caught up in the whole mess of it. "

The stout fellow rights himself and upon regaining his gear quickly dons his fur overcoat. Chilled to the bone he is. While breaking his fast he turn to Jubrayl, "Well Towny, it seems you didn't get yer stories, I hardly got me ale and we're both out a good nights sleep. Ha! Perhaps ta make up fer it all you can show me around this festival of yours and maybe find me a way ta make a few coin. What do ya say to that?"

[Segial]

"Of course, Sheriff Hemlock, it wont happen again."

Outside. "You know, he is all grumpy and all that, but it's just for show. He and Lady Kaye are like this", he puts the left and right index fingers together parallel to each other, "but he doesn't want anyone to know. The whole "showing emotions is a weakness" thing, that's the kind of man he is. Still wouldn't say that to his face though."

"Outch, isn't there something you can do about hangovers? Gah!" Jubrayl says, more to himself then to Grak'n though.

"I was thinking about having breakfeast, I'm starving. You're invited, mom and dad wont be home around this time, and Wicky is fine with it. And after that I can show you around town and the festival. Sounds good?"

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n

"A bit more food never hurt, sounds good," the dwarf matches Jubrayl's pace. "I always found a good boot to the ass always clears up the noddin' a bit. My cousin was always willin' ta lend a foot..." he trails off at the thought of his cousins.

"Bah, anyway, lead on Towny"

[Timaoh]

You soon reach the modest dwelling and smells of breakfast, a wonderful aroma in your current state reach to you beckoning you closer. A stern face woman however blocks the path to the tabe that is just inside ladden with all sorts of wouth wataering breakfast edibles.

Jubrayl the last time you saw your mom this mad was when your dad was laid off for 2 weeks and never told her. This might not be the best time to introduce company. However if she is anything like most mothers her Martha Stuart insticts might save you from a scolding while a guest is present, so it might just be the best time for company. Either way she doesn't look happy and you're bound to get an earful at some point.

[Torger]

Daffyd

Daffyd shares his breakfast with his companion, and repacks his things, heading back into town. Sétanta at his side, Daffyd wanders around the early-morning streets fo Sandpointe, taking in the preparations.

[Timaoh]

The number of stalls and tables ladden with all sorts of exotic wares that seem to have sprung up overnight is astonishing given the early hour. (about mid-morning) As you walk around you see people setting up a portable stage near the entrance to the new church to be consecrated. Others rush around posting fliers and still others can be seen practicing speeches and the like. (although the later are mostly officious looking sorts of the wealthy variety)

FLYER The contents of the flyers are rather boring and mostly contain times of speaches and such mundane details. The bonfire is the only noteworthy event of interest unless you would like to be present for the speeches and free lunch that will follow. Finishing off with the re-consecration of the new temple and then a service. The festivities should continue all day and then end in time for the real party to start. The bonfire.

((OOC))There should be about an hour left before the speeches actually start. If anyone wants to go exploring or travel around town etc. Let me know.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars heads outside of town to see Taj. They hunt together for a time, and Lars makes another fire to cook their catch--another rabbit. He washes in a nearby stream after lunch.

Right about an hour before the speeches, Lars heads back into town with Taj perched on his shoulder. He stops at the Cracked tooth and has one beer.

Ey, Barkeep. You heard 'bout anything odd or dangerous happening 'round these parts?


Lars asks the barkeep if he knows about any trouble around town. [gather information [roll0]

When the speeches start, he walks around the perimiter of the crowd, looking for anything suspicious.
spot [roll1] listen[roll2]

[Torger]

Daffyd

Fascinated by the pomp and bluster of the people in this town, Daffyd anders taking it all in. After a time, he realizes that he should at least make some effort to complete his mission, he wanders through various apothecary and herbalism stalls, asking after the greenberry and generally talking shop, the wolf sedately following him.

[Segial]

Jubrayl

"Hi Mom, you look lovely today. How's dad?"

Trying his best "I'm-so-happy-to-see-you-smile", Jubrayl gives her a hug and a peck on the cheek, then turns to Grak'n.

"Mom, allow me to introduce you to Grak'n Janderhoff. He saved my neck yesterday when a few drunken thugs tried to beat me up at the tavern, so I thought I could invite him for breakfeast in return. I hope that's okay for you? He has traveled alot and has some great stories to tell of the places he has been to, too."



Diplomacy [roll0]

[Timaoh]

"The tavern?" Which one? Nevermind... I don't even want to know do i?" She asks in a tone that says the question was rhetorical. "Your father has been chopping wood all morning because 'someone' didn't do it like he was asked. I mean honestly, all we ask you to do is a few things around here..." She continues talking but as she moves inside to continue with getting things ready her voice trails off. "...a nice young girl and a place of your own..." You hear as she moves around and her voice carries momentarily as she passes the doorway.

The breakfast passes quickly without incident and although your mother seems happy to have company you feel an underlying tension in her voice and actions. Your father appear haggard and tired. Not the energetic 'i can do anything' type of hero you had always seen him as when you were younger. As the hours tick away you notice that the sun is nearing midmorning and you will need to be on your way to arrive in time to take part in the festival. If you hurry you might even be able to arrive in time for the opening speaches.

Lars "Nothing special" The bartender says as he polishes a mug with spittle and a rag. "Same stories as before, so and so hears things in their atic, a few dogs have gone missing, the usual stuff but nothing to get excited about." He goes back to his work and lets you enjoy your pint in silence.

Daffyd Finding the herbs you require is suprisingly easy and in no time you are being greeted by Mayor Deverin with a feverish handshake and a warm smile. Motioning to several stalls you get the impression that this will be a very fun festival.

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n thanks his hosts and waits for Jubrayl before making his way to the speeches in the hopes one of them is a job offering.

((sorry it's short, I need to fly off to me conference))

[Zed's Dead]

Lars breathed a silent sigh of relief.

He was used to folks actually getting angry when he asked questions. Maybe it was the wash in the stream.

Lars finished his pint, paid the man, and walked out into the street. He looks for a spot where he can see the crowd well--someplace above the heads and shoulders of the tall folk.

Per'aps a tall porch, or even a tree with low branches...


to spot an unobtrusive location from which to watch the proceedings: [roll0]

[Torger]

Daffyd

Surprised to so easily acquire the samples he's been looking for for the past year, Daffyd thanks the merchant profusely before wandering off the enjoy the energy of the crowd. Carthac wanted me to test their viability as a medicinal herb, but I'm sure that can wait another day. Everyone seems so happy and excited...Come on, Setanta... Let's see what's going on.

Daffyd works his way into the throng, politely interested in the speeches, for the moment, at least.

[Segial]

Jubrayl accompanies Grak'n to the festival, turning it into a small sightseeing-tour through the town including names, places and quite a healthy amount of gossip. As they reach their destination, Jubray turns to Grak'n and asks "I can keep an eye open for job offers for you, but in what kind of trade are you in anyway?"

[Benejeseret]

"Hmm?..." Grak'n focuses at the question (he drifted off a little during the gossiping, "Ah, well lad, I'm good at protectin'. Course I spend some time in the mines too, a few decades at most, but most a me time is spend protectin' the mine, protectin' the excavations. ."

[Segial]

Jubrayl

"Decades? Uhh, I didn't know you were such an old man. If you had said so earlier, I wouldn't have walked so fast." Jubrayl says with a teasing undertone. "But we are here now anyway, lets see if we can catch some of the speeches, and I'll talk to some people afterwards and see if I can find you some work."

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n nods to the lad and then wanders the through the crowds, more interested in the people populating the area than the speeches.

spot [roll0] listen [roll1] looking to overhear or oversee someone looking for workers/guards/help

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch, the Bastard of the Woods

Lars finds a tree with incredibly low-slung branches and manages to scramble up it. Taj perches several branches up, watching and calling out to him in a peculiar way that sounds something like laughter.



Lars watches the crowd closely for anything unusual or out of place.

Spot [roll0] and Listen [roll1]

[Timaoh]

The crowd seems to quiet down in anticipation as you see four figures stride onto the makeshift stage. One or two might be recognizable to those of you who have interacted with them or some very slight use of deduction skills. The large man with the shiny star pinned to his vest with weapons and armor bulging underneath in a way meant to not attract attention but failing to do so is the sherif Hemlock. The others in no particular order are Mayor Deverin, Cyrdak Drokkus, and Father Zantus.

LarsYou eye a suspicious looking man with a cowl up even though it's midday moving through the crowd away from the stage and clearly uninterested in the speeches going on as he hurries off.

Grak'nDespite numerous attempts to find gainful employment it seems that for everyone here there is more talk about the taverns and what they will offer today for lunch and the other festivities to take place than anything to do with work. You suppose it IS a holiday and perhaps work will present itself after the free food and beverages promised at noon.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch

Lars clumsily makes his way down the tree and follows the suspicious-looking character. Taj flies overhead.

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n reserves himself to leaning against some barrels and listening to the activities of the day.

[Timaoh]

Lars As you strain to get a better look through the crowd the speeches begin and the crowd shuffles forward blocking your vision. Unfortunately the man quickly disappears around a corner and by the time you climb down from your perch and think to send Taj after him, he can no longer be found.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch

Lars climbs back into his tree and continues to look for the man.

Spot [roll0] Listen [roll1]

[Torger]

Daffyd

Daffyd, being able to peer through the heads of the assembled, has a reasonable view. He lays a hand on the wolf's neck as the speeches begin. Sssh, Sétanta... They're about to begin.

[Segial]

Jubrayl

Jubrayl finds a comfortable spot for himself and listens to the speeches.

[Timaoh]

The speaches start off slow with the mayor welcoming everyone much the same as has been done all day at the entrance to the grounds where everything has been prepared. The highlight of her speach is a joke at the expense of Larz Rovanky, the local tanner and how even he mannaged to pry himself away from his work to attend the festival.

The second speach is equally as short and direct as Sherrif Hemlock brings the mood of the festival down a notch with his dour mood. His eyes scan the crowd as though picking out the trouble makers and he reminds everyone to be wary of the laws and the bonfire as they 'have fun' he says with a sneer. He also asks that everyone take a moment of silence to remember those lost to the fire that ravaged the old church five years ago.

Following right on the Shriff's heels and doing his best not to physically move the man to get him out of the minds of the crowd faster Cyrdak Drokkus rises to the challenge of once again raising everyone's spirits. With anecdote after anecdote he splashes a little humor into what would have otherwise been a dull yet informative delivery of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral. Finishing with a bit of self promotion inviting everyone to come to the 'Sandpoint Theatre' tomorrow night to check out his new production of "The Harpy's Curse", revealing that the lead role of Avisera the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishandra!

After his last statement the crowd cheers him off stage and Father Zantus stands up and moves onto the centre of the stage. With a short speech he proclaims the festival underway and prays a short prayer asking for the blessing of Desna to shine on everyone throughout the day's festivities.

The lunches prepared by the local establishements are well prepared and feature a wide variety of styles. The best part by far is that they are all free.
They range from the everyday fare of the Hagfish's lobster chowder, or the 'White Stag's' peppercorn venison, or even curry-spiced salmon and winterdrop mead of Ameiko Kaijitsu which seems to be the favourite.

[Torger]

Daffyd

Daffyd claps politely at each of the speakers. Making mental notes about the structure of this society, radically different from his own, and briefly wonders at what a "Cathedral" is. Dismissing it as unimportant, Daffyd mills along with the crowd, intending to take in the festival before departing to return to Cambria. Silently, Sétanta follows along behind him, nimbly navigating the forest of feet.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch

Lars listens to the speeches, with one ear, but he is mostly looking out for the strange, hooded figure.

He takes as much food as he feels he can take without calling too much attention to himself and eats it apart from the rest of the fair goers.

[Segial]

Jubrayl

Jubrayl applauds the speeches enthusiastically, and then strolls around tasting the various foods and chats with the people he knows.

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n

The dwarf finds his way to the peppercorn venison. Loading up with a large fistful of meat, Grak'n makes his way over to the Cathedral while tearing into the tender morsel.

He walks a few times around the structure to get a sense of its making. Not likely to have much dwarven hands in the making he supposes but inspects the craftmenship non-the-less.

Knowledge (Architecture) [roll0] to learn a bit of its history/construction and a Search [roll1] to find if there are flaws or oddities in the human craft.

[Benejeseret]

((Bunged up rolls those where. If Grak'n has the chance he will continue to examine the workings (he was likely distracted by his meal) and will renew the Search, perhaps this time taking his time and taking 10 or even taking 20 if he has awhile uninterrupted. (=16, or 26 search of the stonework))

[Timaoh]

Grak'nThere is nothing noteworthy about the construction of the new chapel and while you sdearch for any flaws you are suprised to find that there are none at all. You can see signs of painstaking labour and aftertouches that speak of someone working long and hard to make sure the structure is safe and sound. There also seems to be a calming aura tied to the structure and you are certain that some magic must have been invested into the structure because it feels like a holy place. As chapels in small villages go, this is one of the nicest if the only one you have ever seen.


[OOC] You can't re-roll rolls once you know the result because your character would have no idea that he failed based on the rolls. Unless you had a specific visual clue that something was there. (ie. Following someone to a dead end and searching for a passage until you found one.) Either way most times i will take the first roll.

The speeches fade into memories and the food settles comfortably into all your stomachs. You notice that a few small instruments have been brought forth and people seem to be reading to dance and celebrate. The bonfire is being prepared for lighting and some grease has been added to the centre of what looks like a fifteen foot tall tepee with large logs all resting against eachother standing upright in a large clearing. As everyone bustles around, some cleaning up the remaining food tables and others making ready for the fire and dancing to follow, you notice something else. A large cart being rolled towards the stage by father Zantus and a few of his apprentices you suppose. Once he reaches the front of the stage he stops and motions to the younger boys who are smiling from ear to ear clearly excited to be a part of the suprise he has waiting in the cart.
Father Zantus walks slowly towards the podium and tries to get everyones attention by clearing his throat. After a second unsucessful attempt he picks something up from the pulpit and raises it high in his hand. In the dim light it looks like some sort of well-worn rounded stone. Bringing the stone down hard on the pulpit a large thunderous booms fills the clearing and everyone settles down very quickly looking towards the Father who smiles sheepishly at having used such a tactic. He clears his throat and quickly stammers. "May this house be blessed by the lady and her servants." He then nods quickly at the boys and they give a shap tug on the covering drapped over the cart to release hundreds of swallowtailed butterflies into the red-lighted horrizon that serves as their backdrop. The effect is mezmerizing and people "ooohhhhh" and "aaaahhhh" as though watching a grand show.

The crowd applauds here and there and are about to get back to the business of celebration when a faint chant becoming louder can be heard.


"Goblins chew and goblins bite.
Goblins cut and goblins fight.
Stab the dog and cut the horse,
Goblins eat and take by force!

Goblins race and golbins jump.
Goblins slash and golbins bump.
Burn the skin and mash the head,
Goblins here and you be dead!

Chase the baby, catch the pup.
Bonk the head to shut it up.
Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed,
We be goblins! YOU BE FOOD!"

As the sound of the chant reaches all of you, screams migle with them. First the high pitched screams of a woman in distress, and then a dog whimpering in high pitched wails. As you look around [spot checks] you see pinpricks of light filtering towards the square as many of the townspeople run for their lives barricading themselves in nearby buildings or just running down the centre of the streets leading away. One of the men standing near the pyre to be lit throws his torch onto the pile of wood and it starts up with an audible woosh.

[Roll initiative]

[Benejeseret]

"Hey now, just whut the bloody 'ell is this?!"

Grak'n looks up from the Cathedral toward the commotion.

Spot [roll0] and initiative [roll1]
OOC: sorry about the rolls, it's more that I forget that most rolls represent 6 second rush and meant for dangerous/combat situations and that we are free to use take10/20 in situations like I was in.

[Segial]

"I'll be damned, goblins!" Jubrayl looks around for a weapon to defend himself. His hand drop to the fishknife at his belt, but the small blade seems unlikely to be much help in a real fight. His eyes come to rest on the bonfire, and he quickly sprints over and pulls a sturdy burning log from the fire and holds it like a club, and then slowly backs away from the chanting.



Initiative: [roll0]

Spot: [roll1]

[Torger]

Daffyd

Daffyd looks up sharply at the new, chilling sound. What the devil... Sétanta; Guard! With the wolf watching his back, Daffyd looks to the source fo the commotion, and tries to make sure all the innocents are clear of the encroaching altercation.

[roll0]
[roll1]

[Zed's Dead]

Ah knew it! Ah could smell somthin stinkin round ere!

Lars straps on his shield and holds his cudgel tight in his right fist. He selects a goblin from the crowd.

You! Yah, You! I'll bash yer head, ya slimy dog!

Initiative [roll0] Spot [roll1]

[Timaoh]

map (http://timaoh.fileave.com/Pathfinder/Pathfinder-E1R1.jpg)

(the goblins are 1,2,3 respectively from East to West. North will almost always be the top of the map.)

(Those of you who got higher than 12 on your spot check notice the goblin to the south hiding under a table which was set up for food.)
The rest of you can see the other goblins. One of the other two seems to have just suprised a dog and killed it and is now in the process of licking the blade of it's knife and giggling as the blood smears it's face. The last goblin is chasing people trying to get out of the area, although he is more running in circles and whooping than doing them any harm.

As the bonfire goes up in a big whoosh of flame they all turn to stare at it their eyes wide and you can see their malicious little minds working overtime as they stare at the blaze.

(Round 1)

Goblin1 - Reaching up over the top of the table the goblin grabs for the cloth and dumps what was left of the food onto the floor and begins rumaging through it stuffing it's pockets and becoming tangled in the cloth at the same time.

Goblin2 - Having just killed the dog and feeling very sure of himself the goblin runs over to the fire and picks up a piece of burning wood and swings it around watching the sparks and fire trail behind it as a child might play with a sparkler.

Goblin3 - Noticing that the people she had been chasing have all run away the goblin turns it's attention towards the four of you who have yet to move and smiles a wiked little grin as she brings out her knife and runs towards Daffyd noticing Lars along the way and shaking her fist and screaming at him while charging head long at Daffyd. As she get's in close she swings with her dog slicer trying to scare off or injure Daffyd for some more fun and is suprised as the blade slides easily through his armor. <5 Damage> She howls with glee and screems as hops from one foot to the other in front of him.

[Torger]

Daffyd ap Gryffud (Round 1)
Initiative: 17
Hp: 4/9, Healed to full.
AC/FF/T: 14/13/11

Herding the last of the townsfolk out of the square, Daffyd is caught unawares by the disgusting little creature. With a snarl, Sétanta lunges at the creature, going for the hamstring. Reeling from the attack, Daffyd staggers back out of immediate range of his attacker and calls upon Danu to bind his wounds.

Danu, molfaidh mé. Go leigheasa sí.



5 foot step back and cast CLW.

Rolls are in the OOC thread. The wolf bites AC 18 for 3 points of damage, and the opposed strength roll for the trip is DC 18. Before it comes up, the wolf does not need to make another touch attempt. He can trip as part of his attack. All he has to do i hit with the bite.

Also, Daffyd is back at full HP.

[Zed's Dead]

Lars Larch, the Bastard of the Woods (round 1)
initiative 18
HP 12/ 12
AC 15 FF15 T 10

Lars casts shillelagh on his cudgel (+1 to attack and 2d6x2 damage)

Lars boldly calls out a chant, repeated thrice: Drec Srac Garth! and touches his club to the ground, which glows with life and holy energy. Thus armed, he runs to flank the goblin in combat with Sétanta.

[Segial]

Jubrayl (round 1)
Initiative 14
10 HP/ 10 HP
AC 13 /FF 12 /T 11

"I'll be damned, goblins!" Jubrayl looks around for a weapon to defend himself. His hand drop to the fishknife at his belt, but the small blade seems unlikely to be much help in a real fight. His eyes come to rest on the bonfire, and he quickly sprints over and pulls a sturdy burning log from the fire and holds it like a club.

[Timaoh]

New Map (http://timaoh.fileave.com/Pathfinder/Pathfinder-E1R2.jpg)


also Segial pls check the ooc thread for stats on your new found weapon.

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n (round 1)
Initiative 5
16 HP/ 16 HP
AC 18 /FF 10 /T 16 (-2 charging)

"Ya bunch a bloody curs, ya'll picked a prime time ta die!!"

Grak'n charges directly southwest (the square south of D) unhitching his massive waraxe and slipping a hand through his shield-holds (both free action) while his thick legs pump furiously toward the squealing foe. Dust kicks up as he slides to a stop beside Daffyd and transfers the momentum into a arcing backhand swing.

to hit goblin (next to Daffyd) charging [roll0] potentially dealing [roll1] slashing damage.

[Timaoh]

(Round 2)
As the goblins watch the female goblin become tripped and lie helpless on the ground as Grakn's axe tears into her. She wimpers and growls as blood pools around her twitching in pieces and smelling as though her bowls have emptied. Those of you not sickened by the grizzly scene watch as something inside the remaining goblins snap. Their eyes become cold and unfocused as they scream in anguish and rush forward. The joviality and meriment gone from their faces they slash with their crudely fashioned knives little more than shards of steel wrapped in rags, wicked looking barbs and filth covering the blades. Goblin2 raises high his torchlike brand and swings it at Lars as he rushes forward.

[roll0] [roll1]
[roll2] [roll3]

Initiative (round 2)
Goblins - 20
Lars - 18
Daffyd - 17
Jubrayl -14
Grak'n - 5

MAP (http://timaoh.fileave.com/Pathfinder/Pathfinder-E1R2b.jpg)

[Segial]

Jubrayl (round 2)
Initiative 14
10 HP/ 10 HP
AC 13 /FF 12 /T 11

Raising the burning log over his head, Jubrayl yells "YOU. WILL. NOT. RUIN. OUR. FESTIVAL!" at the goblin next to him and swings the log at him with each word.



to hit: [roll0]

damage: [roll1]

[Benejeseret]

(After Daffyd ap Gryffud, I just got twitchy)

Grak'n (round 2)
Initiative 5
16 HP/ 16 HP
AC 20 /FF 18 /T 12

"Ain't gonna gain an inch 'ere gobo!" follows the swoosh of the descending axe.

5' step over the body and swing [roll0] for [roll1] slashing

[Torger]

Daffyd ap Gryffud (Round 2)
Initiative: 17
Hp: 9/9
AC/FF/T: 14/13/11

Sétanta! Guard. Seeing that the others seem to have the creatures well in hand, Daffyd examines the surroundings for signs of other assailants, ready to strike down those who would rise against this place.

Readied action: Sic Wold and attack any goblin not engaged.

Sorry. I was waiting to see ho the Lars situation resolved.

[Timaoh]

The goblin facing Grak'n drops in a pile of gore and blood next to it's lifeless kin. The remaining goblin's morale is bolstered as Jubrayl's weapon dissintigrates in his hands as he swings it repeatedly to ill-effect hitting more ground than goblin. The remaining goblin moves around behind Jubrayl and to everyone's horror and disbelief tries to push him into the fire.

[roll0] [roll1]

(OOC: Sorry for how long it took me to put this together the boards have been a pain in the butt lately whenever i try to post. I'm going to need an opposed str check from Jubrayl [d20+STR] to resolve this round and then you can all act.)

[Segial]

Jubrayl clenches him jaw tightly and with a grim look on his face tries to push back the goblin and himself from the fire.

[Timaoh]

The goblin is pushed back brutally as Jubrayl fends off his attempts to throw him into the fire.

Initiative (round 3)
Goblin - 20
Daffyd - 17
Jubrayl -14
Grak'n - 5

[Segial]

Jubrayl (round 3)
Initiative 14
10 HP/ 10 HP
AC 17 /FF 12 /T 15

Gulping nervously, Jubrayl drops the rest of his "weapon" and with a quick glance over his shoulder, he notices that he can't get away. With a pained sigh he pulls his fishknife and waves it in front of himself defensivly.


Draw a weapon + Full Defense (AC+4)

[Torger]

Daffyd ap Gryffud (Round 3)
Initiative: 17
Hp: 9/9
AC/FF/T: 14/13/11

Sétanta! Sic! Daffyd points to the offending goblin, and follows the wolf into combat, brandishing his staff rather clumsily.



[roll0]
[roll1]
[roll2]

[roll3]
[roll4]

If the trip works, Daffyd would get a +4 (I think) to his attack.

[Timaoh]

As setana rushes into the creature the goblin pales visibly and then gets a wicked grin. Holding it's weapon in front of itself so that Setana will be forced to charge into the weapon. At the last moment setana angles past the goblin's small weapon and bites deep into the creatures leg nearly severing it.
The goblin drops with a wail of pain and anguish and passes out as Daffyd rushes up behind Sétanta and delivers the killing blow, he thinks. The goblin lies prone on the rough streets and you all have a few moments to survey the damage and destruction around you.

As you watch people run screaming chased by goblins. Tables and carts that once held wares to be sold have been upturned and goblins are running through the streets and rumaging through anything that looks mildly interesting. Some of the townsfolk have made it to safety but others still run about the street in terror as goblins chase them and slice indiscriminantly at townsfolk.

As you stand catching your breath and watching the grisly scene something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Several goblins have snuck in behind a large cart carrying supplies that were used to start the bonfire. Several large jars of pitch, torches, kindling, and many other readily flamable supplies in the cart are bein set on fire and pushed towards the large bonfire even as the goblins themselves brandish torches.

Once again you hear their strange chant as they cackle in glee seeing the burning cart of flamable material miss the bonfire and head straight towards the newly built church. The goblins turn to face you brandishing their torches and you notice that in their midst is a female goblin who is chanting and seems to be spuring the other goblins on with the tune.

(you have 4 rounds between the last combat and this new one. Roll initiative. 100 xp each for last encounter.)

[roll0]
[roll1]

--INITIATIVE ORDER--
Goblins - 17
Grak'n - 10

[Benejeseret]

initiative [roll0]

does the cart move by us? If I have 4 rounds can I run (80 feet/turn) and bull rush it to stop it/reverse it? Would this need strength checks or just a bull rush attempt?

[Timaoh]

No. This happens after the rounds have passed. The four rounds can be spent any way you want (healing, listening, etc) but you would not be able to react to the cart as it had not happened yet. The cart is behind you all so running to catch it would take considerable time and effort plus the threat of the goblins between you and the cart prevents it.

[Torger]

Daffyd ap Gryffud (Round 1)
Initiative: ??
Hp: 9/9
AC/FF/T: 14/13/11

Daffyd spends the intervening time trying to herd townsfolk to safety, but stops dead in his tracks at the flaming, rumbling cart. Bollocks... Sétanta! Guard. Planda dol!

Commanding the guard to attack any who comes near him, Daffyd causes entangling vines to erupt from the earth, right in the path of the trundling cart.



That's an entangle spell.

[Benejeseret]

Grak'n

With a hundred years of grudges, the dwarf stalks the three dispatched goblins and ensures they will never rise again.

coup de grace is any life left in them. I can roll if really necessary

At the renewed chant he turns and bellow, "More!....right bloody gobos, that ain't no proper war chant. Should be more like...."

I need to find a good dwawrven war chant and then I'll post it in to have him bellowing it back at the goblins

[Segial]

Jubrayl picks up one of the goblin knifes and weights it in his hands, checking it against his fishknife. Satisfied to have found a more suitable weapon, he keeps it in hand.

Jubrayl (round 1)
Initiative 11
10 HP/ 10 HP
AC 13 /FF 12 /T 11

Jubrayl takes a step back and begins to murmur to himself.

"Wicky, what...? Yes, I know! it's useless, but how should I know there would be goblins...Hmm, yes... A bird would be good... Okay, lets do that."

He focuses on the goblins, stretches out his right hand towards them and at that moment a hawk apprears in the air and swoops down on them, harrasses them with claws and beak.


5-Foot step back, channel "Speak with Animals" into "Summon Nature's Ally I" and have the hawk attack the goblins.