"But Rico..." says Red patiently, slightly tickled that the other two are missing the whole point of her offering to sing. "... they need to... say boo and throw things. If not, we won't get to run... with the table again. And you won't get... to clobber them later."
Upon seeing Rico get to her feet, Red slowly stands up as well. She wouldn't ordinarily bother with the festival of another god, but this is Desna's festival after all. Besides, if Rico decides to topple over from too much drink, someone's going to need to catch her before she hits the ground.
She checks to see that all her belongings are still with her before looking up and nodding at Setsuna. "Miss Setsuna, would you like to come with us? This is... the important bit of today."
Those of you who have decided to move closer to the stage, either to hear Father Zantus' address or to get a better look at what's going on, gently elbow your way through the crowd until you are standing near the front of the podium. Packed in this close together, the crowd reeks of sweat and spilled beer, but nobody seems to mind very much.
Father Zantus is a spry middle-aged man with a trim bread and a kindly twinkle in his eye. Beaming, he clears his throat and addresses the people who have gathered.
"Good evening, brothers and sisters. And to those of you who are here in Sandpoint for the first time, welcome! It is my great honour to-"
Unfortunately, you don't get to find out what exactly it is a great honour to be doing. Before the good Father can finish his sentence, a woman's scream cuts through the air, silencing the crowd more effectively than the thunderstone did just a while ago. A few moments later, another scream rises, then another. For those of you not frantically turning left and right in an attempt to figure out what is going on, you can just make out over the screams an odd surge of high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human.
There is a low chorus of gasps and the crowd parts as something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee. It leaps upon the stray dog that was near the wagon and after a brief howling scuffle, the dog gives a pained yelp before collapsing to the ground with a gurgle, its blood pooling rapidly on the ground around its head. For those close enough to see, now that the crowd has parted, you find to your horror that the dog's throat has been cut open from ear to ear.
The crowd begins to disperse in all directions in a panic. Meanwhile, that thing that killed the dog tucks itself under the wagon to hide, still burbling with maniacal glee.
DC Perception 12:
You recognise the dog's assailant as a single muddy-coloured goblin, a dirty cap pulled low over its eyes. It licks the blood from its dogslicer knife as it looks excitedly out at the crowd, seeking out a new target.