Junior Martyr
2012-05-07, 07:41 PM
Rise of the Runelords
Chapter One: Burnt Offerings
Part I - Festival and Fire
http://i622.photobucket.com/albums/tt310/huw_williams/Sandpoint.jpg
Sandpoint
It is the first day of autumn, and a day of both celebration and remembrance. From the first light of dawn, Sandpoint’s town square has been bustling with activity; first the merchants, setting out their stalls around the perimeter and adorning them with all manner of wares – food, clothes, local crafts, souvenirs: something to appeal to everyone, from the thrifty local to the gullible traveller.
Next come the more enthusiastic locals, eager to position themselves in a spot that will afford the best view of the stage that has been erected in front of the magnificent new church. They are a mixture of wide-eyed, impressionable youths, filled with civic pride, and veterans of the town intent on missing not a moment of Sandpoint’s rebirth.
As the morning wears on, the trickle becomes a flood until not a spare inch of the cobbled square can be found. Latecomers hang from trees or perch on nearby walls in a bid to catch even the most fleeting glimpse of proceedings, and one or two scuffles break out over prime vantage points, but are quickly suppressed by watchful guardsmen.
At eleven o’clock, precisely the appointed hour, the waiting is over as Sandpoint’s mayor takes to the stage. Kendra Deverin is a popular figure, and her enthusiasm is evident as she addresses the crowd. “Citzens of Sandpoint, visitors from all over Varisia and beyond,” she beams, “welcome to the Swallowtail Festival, and the consecration of our magnificent new cathedral.” She pauses for a moment to allow the assembled throng to cast their eyes upon the church behind her, as if it might have hitherto escaped their notice. It is indeed an impressive sight, constructed of stone and glass and dwarfing any other building in town. Five years in the building, it has been built over the site of the original chapel that was destroyed during the Late Unpleasantness and designed to be so imposing as to erase all memory of that tragic time.
“What an honour it is to see so many of you here today,” she continues. “Why, it seems that even Larz has managed to tear himself away from his beloved tannery for a few minutes!” There is a ripple of laughter at the expense of Larz Rovanky, Sandpoint’s tanner and a notorious workaholic, who looks less than impressed despite the obvious good nature of the mayor’s remark.
“In my eight years as mayor of Sandpoint, this town has seen extremes of prosperity and tragedy.” There is a general shuffling of feet and downward-casting of eyes at the mention of the latter, as if half the crowd are embarrassed to acknowledge it. “But never have I been more proud than today, when I see so many of you here to witness such a grand occasion. You are the heartbeat of Sandpoint, you are what make this town such a noble and welcoming place, and I know that with citizens such as yourselves, there is nothing that we cannot achieve.”
The buoyant mood returns swiftly, and several cheers arise from isolated pockets of the crowd.
“People of Sandpoint, I thank you,” she concludes, and departs the stage to rapturous applause.
She is replaced at the podium by Sheriff Hemlock, the dour man charged with meting out justice in the town. His speech is far less rousing, and laden with warnings about overzealous behaviour around the bonfire, and a reminder to keep horses and other large animals away from the busier areas that the festival will occupy. He concludes by asking for a moment’s silence to honour those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church five years ago, an unpopular but impeccably observed request that he acknowledges with a curt nod as he leaves the stage.
Fortunately, the next speaker is the colourful Cyrdak Drokkus, proprietor of the Sandpoint Theatre and local gadabout. He bounds onto the podium, doffing his feathered hat and offering a sweeping bow to the crowd. “Good morning ladies and gentleman!” he cries, theatrically searching every pocket before pulling out and unfolding a piece of paper that assumedly contains his speech. He starts to read it to himself in silence, apparently forgetting about the crowd, which draws murmurs of laughter that quickly spread as folk get in on the joke. Feigning surprise, he looks up and smiles. “Oh, sorry, sorry,” he says, crumpling the paper into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder, “That was the final bill for the building work. Can you believe they actually expect me to pay it?”
He then launches into a comic tale of the cathedral’s financing and building. It is delivered rather irreverently, but touches a few nerves among those in the know and parts of it are a lot closer to the bone than some may be comfortable with. Nevertheless, the crowd are in stitches by the time he wraps up. “Now, tonight we’re all going to enjoy this marvellous festival,” he says, “but what about tomorrow evening? New in town with nothing to do? Then why not stop by the Sandpoint Theatre for the opening of The Harpy’s Curse, starring none other than the famous Magnimarian diva, Allishanda!” His shameless self-promotion is met with good natured jeering from the crowd, and he leaves the podium having thoroughly lifted everyone’s spirits, offering a respectful nod to the priest who is approaching the stage to replace him.
Father Abstalar Zantus is the high-priest of Sandpoint and a patron of Desna, though he is open-minded enough to happily offer guidance to worshippers of other Gods when asked for it. His speech is short and echoes that of Mayor Deverin, though with more religious overtones. It is approaching noon as he finishes speaking, and he concludes by motioning towards a corner of the square, where a covered wagon has appeared and is being wheeled through the crowd by two acolytes. It is a slow process, as the square is already crammed to bursting point, but somehow the wagon manages to reach the middle as the throng parts to let it pass then closes again in its wake.
“When the goddess Desna first fell to earth,” says Father Zantus, his voice suddenly taking on the commanding resonance with which he delivers his sermons, “she was gravely injured by her fall. A blind child, full of kindness and light, nursed the goddess back to health with no thought as to who this injured lady might be. As a reward, Desna transformed the child, who was reborn as an immortal butterfly. With this theme of rebirth in mind, I declare the Swallowtail Festival…open!”
As he utters the final word, the acolytes pull back the cover on the wagon, releasing a furious storm of a thousand swallowtail butterflies that swarm in the air in a spiralling riot of colour to a great cheer from the crowd.
Lunch is provided free of charge, at the expense of Sandpoint’s taverns, each bringing its best dish in as much a bid to win new customers as to feed a hungry crowd. It soon becomes apparent that the darling of the lunch is, once again, Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead easily overshadow the other offerings, even the Hagfish’s famous lobster chowder and the White Deer’s peppercorn venison, both of which would not be out of place in a royal banquet. It is a rare treat for most of Sandpoint’s common folk to sample such delicacies, and they attack the fare with great zeal. Luckily there is more than enough to go around, and everyone heads into the afternoon with full stomachs and a more refined palate.
Throughout the afternoon, the swallowtail butterflies provide an endless source of amusement for the town’s children, who try in vain to catch them as they perch on trees, walls, or buildings. Despite the children’s best efforts, the butterflies always manage to stay just out of reach, always a little too quick for their pursuers.
It is up to you how you wish to spend the afternoon. The festival is concentrated in the area immediately around the main square but there are celebrations going on all over town. Many of these involve eating and drinking, particularly the latter, but there are games, music, stalls and the usual array of activities that you would find in such a celebration. Feel free to wander around and interact with the locals, take in the sights, play some games or do some shopping. The cathedral will be consecrated at sunset so you will probably want to be back at the square for that, but until then it’s up to you what you want to do. Use the map of Sandpoint in the Player’s Guide and see if anything piques your interest.
Chapter One: Burnt Offerings
Part I - Festival and Fire
http://i622.photobucket.com/albums/tt310/huw_williams/Sandpoint.jpg
Sandpoint
It is the first day of autumn, and a day of both celebration and remembrance. From the first light of dawn, Sandpoint’s town square has been bustling with activity; first the merchants, setting out their stalls around the perimeter and adorning them with all manner of wares – food, clothes, local crafts, souvenirs: something to appeal to everyone, from the thrifty local to the gullible traveller.
Next come the more enthusiastic locals, eager to position themselves in a spot that will afford the best view of the stage that has been erected in front of the magnificent new church. They are a mixture of wide-eyed, impressionable youths, filled with civic pride, and veterans of the town intent on missing not a moment of Sandpoint’s rebirth.
As the morning wears on, the trickle becomes a flood until not a spare inch of the cobbled square can be found. Latecomers hang from trees or perch on nearby walls in a bid to catch even the most fleeting glimpse of proceedings, and one or two scuffles break out over prime vantage points, but are quickly suppressed by watchful guardsmen.
At eleven o’clock, precisely the appointed hour, the waiting is over as Sandpoint’s mayor takes to the stage. Kendra Deverin is a popular figure, and her enthusiasm is evident as she addresses the crowd. “Citzens of Sandpoint, visitors from all over Varisia and beyond,” she beams, “welcome to the Swallowtail Festival, and the consecration of our magnificent new cathedral.” She pauses for a moment to allow the assembled throng to cast their eyes upon the church behind her, as if it might have hitherto escaped their notice. It is indeed an impressive sight, constructed of stone and glass and dwarfing any other building in town. Five years in the building, it has been built over the site of the original chapel that was destroyed during the Late Unpleasantness and designed to be so imposing as to erase all memory of that tragic time.
“What an honour it is to see so many of you here today,” she continues. “Why, it seems that even Larz has managed to tear himself away from his beloved tannery for a few minutes!” There is a ripple of laughter at the expense of Larz Rovanky, Sandpoint’s tanner and a notorious workaholic, who looks less than impressed despite the obvious good nature of the mayor’s remark.
“In my eight years as mayor of Sandpoint, this town has seen extremes of prosperity and tragedy.” There is a general shuffling of feet and downward-casting of eyes at the mention of the latter, as if half the crowd are embarrassed to acknowledge it. “But never have I been more proud than today, when I see so many of you here to witness such a grand occasion. You are the heartbeat of Sandpoint, you are what make this town such a noble and welcoming place, and I know that with citizens such as yourselves, there is nothing that we cannot achieve.”
The buoyant mood returns swiftly, and several cheers arise from isolated pockets of the crowd.
“People of Sandpoint, I thank you,” she concludes, and departs the stage to rapturous applause.
She is replaced at the podium by Sheriff Hemlock, the dour man charged with meting out justice in the town. His speech is far less rousing, and laden with warnings about overzealous behaviour around the bonfire, and a reminder to keep horses and other large animals away from the busier areas that the festival will occupy. He concludes by asking for a moment’s silence to honour those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church five years ago, an unpopular but impeccably observed request that he acknowledges with a curt nod as he leaves the stage.
Fortunately, the next speaker is the colourful Cyrdak Drokkus, proprietor of the Sandpoint Theatre and local gadabout. He bounds onto the podium, doffing his feathered hat and offering a sweeping bow to the crowd. “Good morning ladies and gentleman!” he cries, theatrically searching every pocket before pulling out and unfolding a piece of paper that assumedly contains his speech. He starts to read it to himself in silence, apparently forgetting about the crowd, which draws murmurs of laughter that quickly spread as folk get in on the joke. Feigning surprise, he looks up and smiles. “Oh, sorry, sorry,” he says, crumpling the paper into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder, “That was the final bill for the building work. Can you believe they actually expect me to pay it?”
He then launches into a comic tale of the cathedral’s financing and building. It is delivered rather irreverently, but touches a few nerves among those in the know and parts of it are a lot closer to the bone than some may be comfortable with. Nevertheless, the crowd are in stitches by the time he wraps up. “Now, tonight we’re all going to enjoy this marvellous festival,” he says, “but what about tomorrow evening? New in town with nothing to do? Then why not stop by the Sandpoint Theatre for the opening of The Harpy’s Curse, starring none other than the famous Magnimarian diva, Allishanda!” His shameless self-promotion is met with good natured jeering from the crowd, and he leaves the podium having thoroughly lifted everyone’s spirits, offering a respectful nod to the priest who is approaching the stage to replace him.
Father Abstalar Zantus is the high-priest of Sandpoint and a patron of Desna, though he is open-minded enough to happily offer guidance to worshippers of other Gods when asked for it. His speech is short and echoes that of Mayor Deverin, though with more religious overtones. It is approaching noon as he finishes speaking, and he concludes by motioning towards a corner of the square, where a covered wagon has appeared and is being wheeled through the crowd by two acolytes. It is a slow process, as the square is already crammed to bursting point, but somehow the wagon manages to reach the middle as the throng parts to let it pass then closes again in its wake.
“When the goddess Desna first fell to earth,” says Father Zantus, his voice suddenly taking on the commanding resonance with which he delivers his sermons, “she was gravely injured by her fall. A blind child, full of kindness and light, nursed the goddess back to health with no thought as to who this injured lady might be. As a reward, Desna transformed the child, who was reborn as an immortal butterfly. With this theme of rebirth in mind, I declare the Swallowtail Festival…open!”
As he utters the final word, the acolytes pull back the cover on the wagon, releasing a furious storm of a thousand swallowtail butterflies that swarm in the air in a spiralling riot of colour to a great cheer from the crowd.
Lunch is provided free of charge, at the expense of Sandpoint’s taverns, each bringing its best dish in as much a bid to win new customers as to feed a hungry crowd. It soon becomes apparent that the darling of the lunch is, once again, Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead easily overshadow the other offerings, even the Hagfish’s famous lobster chowder and the White Deer’s peppercorn venison, both of which would not be out of place in a royal banquet. It is a rare treat for most of Sandpoint’s common folk to sample such delicacies, and they attack the fare with great zeal. Luckily there is more than enough to go around, and everyone heads into the afternoon with full stomachs and a more refined palate.
Throughout the afternoon, the swallowtail butterflies provide an endless source of amusement for the town’s children, who try in vain to catch them as they perch on trees, walls, or buildings. Despite the children’s best efforts, the butterflies always manage to stay just out of reach, always a little too quick for their pursuers.
It is up to you how you wish to spend the afternoon. The festival is concentrated in the area immediately around the main square but there are celebrations going on all over town. Many of these involve eating and drinking, particularly the latter, but there are games, music, stalls and the usual array of activities that you would find in such a celebration. Feel free to wander around and interact with the locals, take in the sights, play some games or do some shopping. The cathedral will be consecrated at sunset so you will probably want to be back at the square for that, but until then it’s up to you what you want to do. Use the map of Sandpoint in the Player’s Guide and see if anything piques your interest.