Binks (new?) Rise of the Runelords!

[Farmerbink]

Oathday, 1st of Rova, 4707

The day dawns, bright and sunny. Despite being the Autumnal Equinox, clear skies bear the promise of unseasonably warm weather, as has been the trend this year. Many of Sandpoint's residents are out in force, garbed in stunning dresses and elegant tunics-suits. Many brag gleefully about the designer, someone by the name Rynshinn. Apparently, that matters to the locals. A large group gathers at the square in front of a fine, enormous cathedral. Spilling out into the alleys and main thoroughfares in both directions, the intersection of Church Street and High Street bustles with activity. A few farmers mingle in the crowd, looking somewhat out of place going about their business in simple garb, but no one seems to mind their presence or their lack of decor. They're hardly the strangest sight in Sandpoint, these days.

Many semi-permanent wooden stalls adorn the town square, forming something of a ring around the audience beside the stage- several of the town merchants have paid well for the presence, taking full advantage of the opportunity to showcase their finest wares to the gathered crowd. All have bold decorations and colorful signs, proudly displaying their shop names. This goes double for the taverns and inns, which have free food on hand to offer passersby. Ale however, still comes at a price.

A woman rises to stand on the stage, and whispers of "Mayor Deverin!" and "Listen, listen!" hurry their way through the fast-gathering crowd. She politely waves and welcomes people nearby as she takes the stairs with a patient and regal air. Obviously used to some attention, she strides beneath a large banner held aloft by two poles at the end of the stage which reads "Swallowtail Festival" in vibrantly-painted colors.

A large man near the stage calls for the crowd's attention, and the woman, Mayor Deverin, begins speaking. "Welcome again, Friends and Neighbors, to this year's Swallowtail Festival!" Cheers rise out of the crowd, already interrupting. Whatever this festival is, it's important to the locals. "This has been, without a doubt one of the highest turnouts we've ever had in my tenure as Mayor. Why even Larz Rovanky was able to tear himself away from smearing brains on deerhide!" The crowd erupts in laughter at the jibe- as a fairly unkempt man by the cart showcasing leathers waves in mock objection. Must be Larz.

"I want to offer my thanks to the many people who made this festival possible. To the masons and carpenters, for all your hard work on the new Temple! It's unveiling marks a new era of strength and solidarity in Sandpoints history; I'm sure it will be the site of many wonderful things to come! To our local inn and tavern keepers, for providing food for this event- don't forget, there are secret judges among the crowd who will be coming by to sample your food and to reveal the prize later today. To all our friends in the fields who provide us with the opportunity to eat such great food! Thanks especially to Jodar Provolost, Daverin Hosk, Aesrick Battlehorn, Gressel Tenniwar, Turch Sterglus, and Sabyl Sorn for providing entertaining games and activities. I hope you thoroughly enjoy yourselves!" Hands raise in polite greetings and acknowledgement of the Mayor's introductions as respectful applause and the occasional whistle fills the brief silence. The Mayor backs to a chair on the stage, as a wiry, bald, dark-skinned man strides purposefully to the fore.

"Welcome everyone. I just have a few cautionary words and then I will allow everyone to get back to it. Please mind yourselves today. While there will be plenty of ale, the guards are on hand to stop any unpleasantness. This evening will be featuring a bonfire, like last year, but I ask that everyone maintain a proper distance from the fire, so that no one is burned. Please do your best to leave enough space for people to move around so that if the fire gets out of hand, the bucket brigades can easily suppress it. Also, let us take a moment to remember the passing of our dear priest, Father Ezakien Tobyn and his daughter Nualia."

The sheriff, unsure when to stop talking, lurches suddenly to a halt, and then motions to the large man and sits down. After a barely-respectful silence in memory of the priest, quiet grumblings of "sourpuss," and "poor sport," can be heard from the crowd.

"Oh, ah, yes. Now we were scheduled to hear from Longiku Kaijutsu, the master glassworker here in Sandpoint, but he appears to have caught a cold from last Sunday's rain and has retired to his home." Mutters flutter through the crowd. They don't seem surprised. A colorfully-dressed juggler, sensing an opportunity, dashes up to the stage and whispers to the portly MC, who struggles to lower his ear close enough to hear him. Nodding, the MC eagerly turns his gaze back to the audience. "In his absence, we are delighted to invite our beloved Cyrdak to say a few words!" The crowd suddenly begins cheering wildly, as a man wearing a flamboyant red-and-purple shawl and red, feathered beret steps forward with obvious purpose. "Come on up, Master Drokkus!"

With ease that belies what must have been a bit of a feat, Cyrdak jogs to the front of the stage and cartwheels up to his natural home. "Friends! Strangers! Acquaintances! Welcome! While it is quite a shame that Master Kaijutsu cannot be with us, I'm sure that we will make merry twice as hard in his absence! After all, we should party all the more, that our good spirits will rise his alongside! Of course, of course we should celebrate! Given what this monument cost, all the hard work we've all put in, we much deserve a day of merriment! Why, Father Zantus even came to me to ask for a few coppers per ticket of my new showing of 'The Harpy's Curse.' But fear not! I, Cyrdak Drokkus, was more than happy to oblige! After all, what are a few coppers more when you get the chance to see the lovely, the captivating, the talk of Magnimar, Allishanda! She will portray the devious Avisera the harpy queen as she fights against the curse of Lamashtu to find true love! So eat! Drink! Be merry, and come see 'The Harpy's Curse' at the Sandpoint Theatre tonight!! Any and all will enjoy-" "Thank you Cyrdak, that was quite moving!" the large man interrupts with a firm but friendly hand on the shoulder. "but I'm sure these folks didn't come to listen to you talk all morning!" The theater producer nods easily, smiling and gratefully accepting the fond applause of many familiar faces as he reluctantly returns to street level.

"Lastly, friends, Father Zantus will now offer a benediction."

A middle-aged man with smiling eyes, apparently Father Zantus, stands up. He steps forward on the stage, and raises his hand, and a respectful hush falls over the crowd. His voice is deep, calm, and soothing- stark contrast the boisterous affectations of Cyrdak. "Again, as others have, I bid you all welcome. Thank you for coming on this fine day. We praise Gozreh for calming the winds and the seas. We praise Sarenrae for redeeming our place of worship. We praise Abadar, for smiling down on our work to restore justice and order to the chaos. Above all, I give praise to Desna. Praise be to the Great Dreamer, who saw in us the hope that we would once again have a beautiful place to worship her and her allies in the celestial host, who inspired us to seek out the contracts we would need to rebuild this holy place, who bolsters our daily work with song and dance, and keeps our hearts light as we rest under the stars. Today is her day, and may we dance and sing the Starsong in her honor!"

This, apparently, is what the crowd had been waiting for. Several musicians near the stage immediately begin a familiar hymn in praise to Desna, as dozens of Swallowtail butterflies are released from their cages. Thick enough to cast dancing shadows over the crowd, the blue-winged insects take to the sky as the people erupt in mass chaos- each person hastening towards their preferred food stalls or game booths. Laughter and merriment seem the theme of the morning.

As you stroll the packed street, plenty of foods and games are available for the partaking:

Spoiler: Food

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Most of this food will come out at lunch, but Ameiko does allow anyone in the group who asks to sample some of the smoked salmon she prepared. It's nearing divine.

Sandpoint Savories is featuring Avertin's Apple Pie

White Tailed Deer is serving roast venison with capers

The Hagfish serves butterfly clams with lemon-butter

Risa's Place is serving Varisian Delight, A thinly sliced fillet, breaded and rolled around a batter of onion and corn meal and deep fried in oil

Cracktooth's Tavern has made a crab bisque

Spoiler: Activities

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"Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil!? Take a shot and see!" Jodar Provolost cries. Maester Grump and Recruiter Althus have both tried their hands and are munching on a pair of pies. They're watching and commenting in good fun as others try the game.

Spoiler: The Devil Hunt

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This event takes place at an archery range overlooking the beach by the lighthouse (a few blocks to the north). Two large targets with silhouettes of a monstrous winged horse are set up fifty feet away from a firing line. The bull’s-eye on each target is where the horse’s heart would be, and there are four concentric circles surrounding the bull’s-eye. To play costs two copper pieces. Using one of the longbows provided, the player fires up to three arrows at the target, scoring the better of the two. Hitting a bull’s-eye wins a small pie. Hitting anything else wins progressively cheaper trinkets for each band outside the bull’s-eye, with nothing for a miss.

Spoiler: rules

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Make 3 ranged attack rolls. If you hit higher than 20 you win a pie.

"Three Goblins have found their way into your house and are tearing it up! Toss them into the fireplace before they can destroy everything!" Daverin Hosk calls to promote his game. The children all seem to love this game, and have formed a long line.

Spoiler: The Goblin Toss

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This game is a simple bean bag toss set up in the square. A board with a row of three holes is set up 10 feet from a throwing line. The closest hole is the largest and the farthest hole is the smallest. There are buckets of beanbags sewn to look like little Goblins by each of the three stations, and each bean bag has a goblin name printed on it. This event costs one copper piece. The player receives three “Goblins,” and must try to toss them into a “fireplace”. Children aim for the closest hole, women use the middle hole, and adult men use the furthest hole.

Spoiler: rules

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Make 3 ranged attack rolls to hit AC 15 (12 for female characters, if you want). No penalty for improvised weapons. Hit all 3 and win a bag of venison jerky. Daverin tells any children who win the jerky that it's really goblin meat. Most of them seem to believe him.

"Who needs a lighthouse without a light? The old lighthouse has become an eyesore. Let’s knock it down so we can use the stone to build something new!" calls Aesrick Battlehorn.

Spoiler: The Lighthouse Smash

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This game has a table with six square stones stacked on it in a triangular shape, and has a firing line twenty feet from the tables. Using a toy catapult, the players must try to knock down the stack of stones. To play costs two copper pieces. Each player gets three shots. It usually takes all three hits to knock down all the stones, though it is possible to knock the stones down with one catapult shot. The small catapult is a work of art. It is 2 feet tall and has been carved in the shape of a stone giant with its arm throwing the stone. Battlehorn has a soft spot for the children, and helps them aim it so that they almost always win.

Spoiler: rules

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A successful ranged attack roll against AC 12 counts as one hit. Hitting AC 16 counts as two hits, and hitting AC 20 counts as three hits. The catapults have a range of fifty feet, so there is no range penalty, but players incur a penalty of -4 if they are not proficient with siege weapons. Knocking down all the stones wins a 4" tall replica catapult. Anything less wins the player a handful of cheap trinkets. Missing all three shots does not win the player anything.

"There’s been talk of starting a dragon farm in Sandpoint. We need to find out which dragons are the fastest so that we have the best stock. Pick yourself a dragon and put it to the test in a race against your friends!" calls a crier for Gressel Tenniwar.

Spoiler: Dragon Races

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The final game is located in the Sandpoint market square at the beginning of Market Street. There are two thirty-foot-long double lane tracks set up next to each other with a three-foot wide gap between. Near the starting line, there is a large cage with twelve lizards in it. Each lizard has a set of twig and cloth wings attached to their backs, and each is painted a different color. Without touching the lizards, the player must goad their lizard down the track. To play costs one copper piece. Once four people have picked a “dragon”, the players must place them in the starting lanes. At the sound of the whistle, the gates are lifted and the players must goad their dragons down the track without touching them.

Spoiler: rules

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Each person racing makes an initiative check and the race proceeds in initiative order. Making each lizard move five feet requires a successful DC 14 Handle Animal check. On a failure, they do not move, and if the check fails by 10 or more, the lizard moves five feet backwards. The first lizard to cross the finish line wins. The winner gets a large, cheap medal that reads “1st Place Swallowtail Dragon Races” and 2 copper pieces. All other places get nothing. If you want to do this one, let me know and we'll hash it out in our OOC thread.

Spoiler: Perception DC 18

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You see a few unsavory characters watching the "dragon races" with great intent. When one wins, one of the men cheers wildly while the rest of their faces sour. If you keep watching, make a

Spoiler: Perception DC 12

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You see some of the competitors hold raw meat in front of their lizards.

Spoiler: Sense Motive 20

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Some of the lizards seem more motivated to win than others, and usually its the ones who want the raw meat.

"Who is the strongest in Sandpoint?" Sabyl Sorn offers this simple challenge.

Spoiler: Weight Lifting

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She stands before three sets of weights that pairs seem to be attached to a bar. The challenge seems simple enough, lift the weight over your head. Both men and women gather to watch people attempting this challenge.

Spoiler: rules

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This is a straight lifting check. The first weight starts at 150 pounds. The next is 250, and the final one is 350. If you can lift all three over your head, you win. DC 12, 16, 20 checks if your strength isn't naturally high enough.

Turch Sterglus calls out. "Welcome sailors and sandlubbers, to this here duck pond. Whoever's got a keen eye in their skull will win a prize. Whoever's not will ne'er see Murdermaw sneakin up on em till it's TOO LATE!" All the kids cheer "Murdermaw! Murdermaw!" when they hear the salty old dog say his name.

Spoiler: rules

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This is a classic duck pond. 2 coppers gets you the chance to pick 3 ducks. Picking the correct duck requires a dc 15 perception check. The ducks don't go back into the pond until after you've finished your try. On the bottom of each duck will be a symbol. The one you want is Murdermaw. Match 3 symbols and you win a carved fishbone necklace. Match 2 and you get a carved fishbone hairpin. Get 1 Murdermaw symbol and you get a salty treat.

"If you think you're tough, come prove it to all Sandpoint. If you can eat the spiciest of what I've cooked, you and a friend can have free drinks this Starday at the Rusty Dragon!"

Spoiler: Spicy Eating Contest

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This is the event that Horran and Lettie Guffmin, two farmers from the surrounding area, seem to have been waiting for, and they're the first to sit down at the long table. Also sitting down at the table is the local locksmith and well known patron of the arts, Volioker Briskalberd.

Spoiler: rules

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The rounds will get progressively harder, the first one starts out with a DC 10 fortitude check. We will need to coordinate this one to see who will be knocked out during each round.

"The one, the only, Madame Mvashti! Fortune-teller, extraordinaire! See what the omens have in store for you, for your loved ones!"

Spoiler: Madame Mvashti's Fortunes

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It's rare for Madame Mvashti to do readings these days, but the festival seems to have put her in a good mood. Her services do not come cheap, however, and silver must cross her palm before she will deal the Harrow Deck before her. A few birds have gathered near her, and seem to chatter back and forth, sometimes seemingly addressing her. She clucks back to them.

Spoiler: Men and Women

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An abundance of NPCs, dressed in all manner of finery and not are available to speak with and court. I have access to TONS of info in the book that I'm not immediately interested in typing up. If you strike up conversation, I will 'assign' an NPC to you for the duration. These conversations may or may not have lasting impacts.

[3SecondCultist]

A young man sits on a shadowed bench. He watches the proceedings with some interest, although he is currently in the middle of reading an anthropological text, and he'd rather finish the chapter before interacting with any of the locals. It is certainly a riveting read, if only for the pure entertainment value of its author's - one Hermaeus Chylor - numerous fallacies.

The conclusion reads: "the institutions of men and demi-humans are as distinctly stratified as the earth on which he lives. They succeed each other in series substantially uniform over the globe, independent of what seem the comparatively superficial differences of race and language, but shaped by similar human nature acting through successively changed conditions in savage, barbaric, and civilized life."

It's all Cade can do not to snort in contempt. Chylor is Chelish, and it shows. The entirety of his thought, his critique of multiculturalism through a supposed lens of uniform linear history is so skewed towards his rampant imperialism that it really is quite laughable. His continued use of 'demi-humans' as an awkward catch-all betrays his real discomfort for other cultural practices. Anything to justify Queen and Empire, right? Why has Blackthorn given him this book? In hindsight, it does look like a rather unsubtle clue telling Cade that he needs to 'broaden his cultural horizons'. It definitely sounds like something he'd say. Certainly, that is one of the reasons Sandpoint is the first stop on his trip... although he hasn't yet had the inclination to actually talk to anyone here. The speeches have been pretty enough, although Cade has long since stopped paying attention. Looking back, it was probably everyone started in on the superstitious nonsense. Why anyone would celebrate a big eyesore like the cathedral is utterly beyond him.

Still, it won't do him any good just to sit here twiddling his thumbs. There are things to see, and games to try! He's always had a penchant for games. The food doesn't appear all that appetizing: fish isn't particularly 'on his menu', especially not something as common as salmon. He'll eat later, probably. Maybe. If there's time. Putting his book away in his adventuring rucksack, Cade rises to his feet. The bag on his shoulders shifts, as he feels his belongings move around. Hopefully, his ink is still alright; its procurement required the involvement of a merchant from Magnimar and cost a pretty penny. Not that he will see the stains, though, with it being invisible under most conditions. Still, best to be careful until one has the lay of the land.

Another Blackthorn saying. Cade chides himself inwardly. It simply will not do to have the old man accompany Cade in his mind. Shaking his head back and forth, the investigator decides that he should probably follow that advice nonetheless. The locals are not why he is here - until he can get a better idea of the precise site he seeks, best to watch and listen, not to make any waves.

Walking through the throng, Cade lets his eyes wander from person to person and stall to stall, never truly resting on one thing but absorbing as much detail as possible in the brief seconds of contact. He has found that it is a well and good exercise of the memory to try and recall everything one sees. Sandpoint is as good a place as any to hone his talents, and Cade finds the avenues of his thoughts turning outwards, processing everything he sees and hears.

As he ruminates on these conclusions, Cade nearly stumbles over the entrance to a very specific and auspicious activity. Looking up suddenly, he finds himself in a very promising spot. Fortune-Teller, extraordinaire. Cade smirks. This is going to be fun. He deftly steps in line to have his fortune read, relishing this new opportunity.

Spoiler: OOC

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Alright, first let's start with some Knowledges to answer specific questions.

1) Why is the Sheriff so dour?
2) What's the story with Ezakien and Nualia Tobyn?
3) And who is Master Kaijitsu?

I will roll several Knowledge (Local) checks, in case I need to, applying Inspiration for the additional 1d6.

1: Knowledge (Local): (1d20+11)[18] plus (1d6)[3]
2: Knowledge (Local): (1d20+11)[15] plus (1d6)[3]
3: Knowledge (Local): (1d20+11)[30] plus (1d6)[2]

Oh, and let's make a Perception check for the area too. Cade's always going to be looking around, he's just curious about stuff.

Perception: (1d20+8)[9]

[MuffinMan]

Amidst the crowd, Tobias grasps a mostly-full goblet of ale and sways gently back and forth as the mass of people stream and bustle around him. More than once a passerby approaches him to ask for directions, perhaps mistaking the armed & armored knight for one of the town guard, but something in his wordless glance quickly convinces them that they're better off asking somewhere else. The sheriff's mention of "guards" and "unpleasantless" earns an appraising glance around the square, One... two... make that four. Spears and studded leather, hmph. Civilians. Seemingly unconcerned he waits for Father Zantus' benediction before draining his glass and walking in search of other entertainment.

"Do you have what it takes to bring down the infamous Sandpoint Devil!? Take a shot and see!" Jodar Provolost cries. Maester Grump and Recruiter Althus have both tried their hands and are munching on a pair of pies. They're watching and commenting in good fun as others try the game.

Hearing the name of his quarry comes as a surprise, and Tobias quickens his pace in anticipation only to be let down at the sight of a rather mundane archery tournament. But it's too late by then - Jodar has spotted him and is thrusting a longbow into his hands. "Show us how a real warrior deals with a beast like this, eh, sir knight?" "Well, I'd rather cleave it in twain but then you'd have no more contest!" Tobias jests good-naturedly as he accepts the bow and steps up to the firing line.

Spoiler: The Devil Hunt

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atk (1d20+4)[14]
atk (1d20+4)[7]
atk (1d20+4)[5]

Later, the sounds of grunting and the clanging of weights betray the weight lifting competition before it comes into view. Tobias casts an eye at the competitors but makes to move away, except that once again the villagers have other ideas. "Hey, this guy looks pretty strong!" "Nah, I bet it's all just show - nothing under that armor!" "Oh please, sir knight! Do it for me!" "Well, how about it? You seem like a healthy young lad!" Sabyl Sorn exhorts him. "Well, why not. A man needs some exercise with all this food about, lest he become as large as your announcer." He winks and bends down to grasp the first bar before thrusting it up and overhead - easy! The second bar presents more of a challenge, and a bead of sweat appears on his brow as he achieves as flawless clean & press. One more to go... he unslings a large shield from his back and shakes out his arms as he prepares to tackle the final weight.

Spoiler: Weight Lifting

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Strength check (1d20+4)[21]

"If you think you're tough, come prove it to all Sandpoint. If you can eat the spiciest of what I've cooked, you and a friend can have free drinks this Starday at the Rusty Dragon!"

"And if it's just me, can you make them a double?" Tobias cracks another joke as he takes a seat at the contest table opposite Volioker Briskalberd.

Spoiler: Spicy Eating Contest

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Here's a bunch of Fortitude rolls for progressive rounds:
(1d20+5)[9]
(1d20+5)[7]
(1d20+5)[20]
(1d20+5)[16]
(1d20+5)[14]

Spoiler: Conversation

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Tobias will speak to the strongest and/or most martially-capable individual he sees. He'll inquire about the Sandpoint Devil, goblin activity in the area, and any other threats to the village.

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Leaned up against the wall, Klimvell chewed on a straw as he watched as Jeb shook hands with the shopkeeper with just a hint of impatience. His older brother usually handled the actual sale of goods, while Klim and his little brothers handled the loading and unloading. But this time, it seemed to take forever for the two men to come to an accord. Probably because Jeb was asking for more to help offset the costs the stupid goblins had cost them ... and like a townie, the shopkeeper had to pretend like he had never even heard of a goblin, let alone admit they were prevent around Sandpoint. Give and take, offer and counter, punch, counterpunch. This was the game you had to play with selling goods ... and was the exact reason why Klim hated this part of his chores.

But with the handshake done, Klim stood up and nodded in anticipation. "We good, Jeb? Kin we getta unloadin' them pelts?" He was already walking to the wagon waving to Tad and Cal, ready to get the task done as soon as they could. It wasn't that he was so industrious that he want to finish their task in a timely manner. No, coming into town, he had seen the festivities all set-up, and he wanted a chance to wander the town before they had to find the mayor and report in.

After thirty minutes of heavy breathing and rote motions, the Mikoye's were done and headed away from the shop. After a few minutes of riding through the town and hearing all the cries, shouts and laughs from the various booths and tents, Klim sighed and leaned back for a moment, one hand scratching Ulfar behind his ears. Finally, he sat up and glanced over at his brother, mouth open. "Don't, Klim ..."

Klim blinked. "What? Ah twern't doin' nuthin' ... "

Jeb shook his head, never looking at his brother. "Just don't say it, Klim .."

Klim snorted. "Say what, Jeb? I was just thinkin' 'bout what we need t'do next ... "

Jeb didn't say anything, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"It's jus ... "

Jeb rolled his eyes. "Here it comes ..."

Klim smiled sweetly, leaning in close. "Here comes what, Jeb? Ah'm jus' sayin' ... mebbe y'all kin git settled at th'inn ... " He glanced in the direction of the festival noises suggestively.

Jeb glared at him for a moment, then looked ahead. "Yer just wanna play ..."

Klim gasped, touching his chest. "Ya cut me, Jeb. That's jus' not right. Ah'm tryin' ta ... Ah jus' wanna ... "

Jeb raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk on his face. "Yeah?"

Klim paused, his brow furrowed for a moment as he turned away. Then suddenly, he turned back to his brother with a wide grin.
"Ah jus' wanted t'find th' mayor, fer it gits too late. Don't wanna miss 'em, with all these festivities ... if'n he gits into his cups, it'll be midday 'fer he's ready t'talk."

Jeb sighed expressively, rolling his eyes. But after a few moments silence, he finally nodded in resignation. Klim whooped, startling Ulfar who was lying in the back. Grinning, Klim jumped down from the wagon and waved at his three brothers and the dog. "Ulfar, stay! Tad and Cal, watch 'em! Jeb, thanks! Ah'll find th'mayor ... y'all come find me after ya git settled!" With that, he sauntered off in the direction of the festival.

---

In the thick of things, Klim strolled down the street, taking in all the sights. There was more than a few smells on the wind that made his stomach rumble, but he figured he'd hold out for a bit. Folks that had seen him in town before waved, and he waved back, grinning widely. As he strolled down the street, he noticed one of the games involved archery. Pausing, he leaned against a nearby wall to watch, snickering to himself at a few shots, cheering at a couple of others. When one particularly large man missed all but the outer ring, his snort was loud enough to attract attention. One of the bystanders from the rougher part of town nudge a buddy and shouted, "If you think you can do better, step up, sheep f*&ker!" He flinched when Althus swatted at the man, muttering something about children.

Grinning, Klim shrugged and stepped forward. "Sure as yer a right bloody sod, Ah'll giver a shot. Lemme see tha bow ..." Klim took the offered longbow and sighted it for a moment, then checked the arrows and selected three of the straightest. He tested the pull for a moment, then nodded, taking up a stance at the appropriate place. He raised the bow slowly, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, holding his breath. After he felt the familiar thrill run through his limbs, he opened his eyes and glanced down at one of the kids and give them a wink. With a slow exhale, he loose the first shot. While it felt good leaving the bow, it completely missed the target, and zipped past Jodar Provolost's head, eliciting a shout of concern. Klim felt his ears burning as the heckler and his buddies started laughing.

Focusing in, he fired again, this time hitting the target in the center. The others quieted down for a moment, uncertain how to react. Giving them one last glare, Klim let the last arrow free, which split his first arrow with a resounding thunk. There was a momentary pause, then the kids all cheered and rushed towards the hunter.

---

OOC - Swift action to gain tiger focus, and shoot.
Shot 1 - (1d20+6)[26], Shot 2 - (1d20+6)[7], Shot 3 - (1d20+6)[23]
EDIT - taking some liberty with the shot order for dramatic effect, if that's okay.
Effects/Conditions: Animal Focus (Tiger, +2 Dex, 10 rounds)

Spoiler: Status

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AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

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0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus (Ulfar): Bear (+2 Con [comp])
Animal Focus (Klim): Tiger (+2 Dex [comp])

[Gwynfrid]

Ipdolur Khosfrenom Hlarmendgol finds the speeches, on the whole, unspeakably boring. Of course you thank the folks who worked hard to put the festival together. Of course there's going to be food and drink and games. Of course the politician will say this is the best turnout in the history of Avistan. And lame jokes. And police and security, yes yes that's understood. Another boring speaker caught a bug and must be in bed, sorry for him, but all the better for the rest of us. Even the priest... Nice praise to Desna, but ol' Father Karmesdahlarr Perfamibor could do that and sing something to lift everyone's heart in the process! The only one that he finds mildly intriguing is Cyrdak's. He promises himself he'll get a ticket to the Harpy's Curse this very night.

At long last, the tedious speeches end, and it is time for merriment! He doesn't know anybody in Sandpoint, but that doesn't matter. He decides he will try every food, every game, and accept every challenge on the way. How else, after all, can one derive the most excitement out of an event like this one? The influence of Fwwtfyll, the Wind Spirit, sends him running to each event in a random order...

At the Devil Hunt, he encounters his first difficulty. "Lad-mylord-dear, that is quite a looong longbow you have here!" Comically, he sets the bow horizontally, the only way it won't touch the ground. This makes the arrow point dangerously unstable, and Jodar Provolst wisely decides to let the gnome use his tiny crossbow instead.

Spoiler: Devil Hunt

Show

(1d20+2)[9]
(1d20+2)[16]
(1d20+2)[11]

"Alas, no pie for poor old me!" he exclaims good-naturedly, having missed all three shots. "Oh well, more belly room for other dishes then!"

He enjoys the butterfly clams from the Hagfish very much. He proclaims lemon butter "a personal favorite with seafood!" before moving on to the next attraction.

At the Goblin Toss, Daverin Hosk tries to recommend the closest hole, but Ipdolur will have none of it. "I can do it! I am most certainly not a child! I am honored to compete with them - he makes a broad, circular bow to the many kids all around - but I shall use the grown men's target! Look at this ugly goblin's face, in the bag you go!"

Spoiler: Goblin Toss

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(1d20+2)[15]
(1d20+2)[18]
(1d20+2)[4]

The gnome proudly cheers and takes in the applause after the first two bags disappear into their holes, but on the third, he overshots badly, and the bag splits open on landing, spilling beans everywhere! "Look at that kids, goblin entrails! Yikes!"

He moves on to the next dish, but roast venison, with capers, from the White Tailed Deer, is somewhat less to his taste. Kind of a weird association if you ask me. But he profusely thanks the serving lad, all the same.

The Lighthouse Smash is a bit more of a challenge for him. He studies the catapult with great interest, having not seen a siege engine in operation before, be it real or toy. Finally, he tries it, but his lack of either theory or experience in the field of parabolic trajectories is a serious limitation.

Spoiler: Lighthouse Smash

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(1d20-2)[6]
(1d20-2)[10]
(1d20-2)[6]

"Three misses! My, this contraption has something against me, does it not! No matter, I leave all the luck to you folks!"

After that, he enjoys Ameiko's salmon, and compliments the Rusty Dragon's owner. "A splendid taste really! Delightfully blue!"

Weight lifting, now, that is way out of his league. But he observes the players: Winning or losing, they all enjoy it in good cheer... Why not me?

Spoiler: Weight Lifting

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(1d20-1)[19]
(1d20-1)[13]
(1d20-1)[9]

To his own surprise, he manages the first bar! His face beetroot red, dripping with sweat, he lets it fall to the ground. The audience ooohs and aaahs in amazement to see such a tiny person, maybe thirty pounds in a wet shirt, lift something of that magnitude! He takes a few breaths before attempting the next one... But his pull is too strong and uncontrolled this time, the bar carries him backwards until he falls on his derriere, narrowly missing being crushed, to the great delight of all... After such crazy exertions, he feels ravenously hungry, so the Varisan Delight is an excellent choice! The fat drips over his chin as he devours the dish.

Moving on to the Dragon Races, he finds the spectacle hilarious, especially when Sandpoint's farmers and fishermen try every possible method to goad the lizards into motion. Yelling, talking, stroking, grimacing, all of them make fools of themselves with varied degrees of success, but all make the crowd roar in laughter. Now that's a game for me!

Spoiler: Dragon Races

Show

Observing:
Perception DC18 (1d20+1)[17]
Perception DC12 (1d20+1)[18]
Sense Motive DC20 (1d20+6)[23]

He will play in a race, because he has a bit of an ace in the hole... who am I kidding, he would play anyway.

Having had plenty of food already is no deterrent for him when he gets to the Spicy Eating Contest...

Spoiler: Spicy Eating Contest

Show

Yup, he'll do this one too...

[DarkOne-Rob]

The preparations for the Swallowtail Festival have been going on for weeks, and though she hosts no games nor has she prepared a feast for the many revelers in town, Brynlieagh (Elvdought), her enormous black cat, Lyssmi, and her raven, Lenore, have been practicing and working hard to ensure that nothing goes wrong. "Now, Lyssmi has been fed - twice! - and shouldn't be hungry. Brynlieagh, that means all you have to do is keep her from trying to play with anyone she might accidentally hurt...Brynlieagh? Brynlieagh! Are you even listening to me?" squawks the raven critically at the distracted half-elf maiden sitting there and braiding her hair. Several seconds later the impish young lady looks up and wrinkles her nose at Lenore with a mocking smile.

"Yes, yes, I remember - only feed the youngest children to Lyssmi, since they won't be missed, right?" she quips before earning a deliberate thwack on her head from Ameiko's large wooden spoon. "Ow! I was only kidding...mostly..." she says in (mock?) resignation towards the other woman. For her part, Ameiko doesn't even slow down, moving about to take care of things as the Festival is about to begin in earnest.

Lyssmi growls - or purrs(?) - sub-vocally under Brynlieagh's hands as if to chide her waifish mistress and wiggles a single ear in irritation. The cat stretches languidly, yawning and showing a mouth full of sharp, carnivorous teeth, and licks its lips as it looks around for something interesting. Finding nothing, the much-too-large (house?) cat looks at Lenore with the mysteriously expressionless look of all felines and sits on its haunches patiently.

"Well, fine, but if you get into too much trouble and I don't find a nice bauble or two to add to my collection I will be upset with you!" finishes the bird in apparent exasperation.

---

The trio leaves the Rusty Dragon common room by the front door, eliciting no small amount of gasps of surprise, quiet feminine sounds of alarm, and squeals of enthusiastic joy from the nearby children. As several run up Brynlieagh laughs and kneels down smiling. "Hi everyone! Who wants to ride about the Festival in Lyssmi's mouth, hmmm? She could pick you up by the neck, like your mama-cats do their kittens! It'll be fun!"

Before any such dangerous games can begin, the various children's parents scoop them up, scowling at Brynlieagh to no apparent effect. With a shrug the witch skips across the road to the nearest stand with food (Risa's Place), takes a large handful of Varisian Delight - deliberately ignoring any plates or utensils offered - and begins stuffing her face happily. "Oh, mmmm, thith ith bery gooth!" she compliments around the hot food in her mouth before swallowing loudly and helping herself to a nearby (clay) mug of ale. "What is that phrase I'm supposed to say now, Lyssmi?" she asks her cat. Lyssmi looks at her with the unreadable amber eyes and doesn't react.

"You're supposed to say..."

"Oh look! Games!" cries Brynlieagh as she sprints off towards the other side of the square, where she sees several newcomers mingling with the locals. She watches several people try to lift heavy weights, then some archery and a race with lizards. "Ooh, Lyssmi, let me up on top of you, I want to see!" begs Brynlieagh as she hops up and down in place, apparently trying to get onto her cat's shoulders. Once again, Lyssmi just looks at her, apparently patient and implacable, and doesn't help her climb up in any way at all. After several failed attempts she turns back to the lizard race to watch a bit longer. "I think I want to try - am I supposed to give you something to play? What would you like, a kiss? Maybe a Ioun Stone? Oh, how about this shiny thing Lenore brought me..."

"You wouldn't! That's mine, Brynlieagh!" cries her familiar in outrage as the little witch holds out a copper coin to Gressel Tenniwar. The man takes the coin, with rolled eyes at the odd trio, and directs Brynlieagh's attention to "her dragon." Over the next several minutes she coaxes the lizard down the thirty foot path, unconcerned with whether or not it is ahead or behind the others.

"If you don't win, don't worry - we think you're a fine dragon and I will just feed the others to Lyssmi until you're the de facto winner!" she says to the little reptile as it crosses the finish line. With the enthusiasm that can only come from mania, Brynleaigh asks the man, "Did our lizard win? He had better have won!"

"Yeah - I need a new shiny thing to replace the one she stole..."

[Farmerbink]

Fortune-Teller, extraordinaire. Cade smirks. This is going to be fun.

Spoiler: The hag's lair (Cade)

Show

Cade steps into the colorful tent, having patiently(?) awaited his turn amidst the hustle and bustle. Inside, a hazy blue smoke fills the air of a surprisingly dim space. He can't help but glance back at the tent flap falling shut- that alone should let in more light... His thoughts are interrupted by a squat old woman coughing politely. Peering over a set of ornate spectacles, she takes in the young man's features with... intense focus. Finally, she holds his gaze for almost 15 full seconds- when Cade's eyes begin to water, whether a function of the haze or just keeping them open so long- he's forced to blink, and finds that the woman is already shuffling.

In one fluid motion, her wiry hand slaps three cards on the table, one stacked atop the other. "Your past," she murmurs, pulling her hand in and revealing the first card. "The Empty Throne... You have experienced great loss, for one so young? Such a place for the Ace of Crowns..." Her eyebrows raise in surprise as she once more takes in your features. "There are lessons to be learned from loss, but you already knew that, didn't you? This is the keystone of your past, and explains much about what is to come." Her hand moves, revealing a second card. "The Bear, Five of Hammers-" she smirks. "Not fond of authority, are we? You strain against your teachings, and will find pain if you cannot learn to submit." Finally, she reveals the third card. "The Desert, your protection. How fitting it is also your first Shield. You have always worked alone, and find you much prefer it." The crone looks up from the cards, smiling. "No man is an island, they say, but you have the makings of one who tests expectations, I think...."

She shuffles again, and again places three cards. "Your present," she announces. "The Sickness, another Shield so soon? But here it is misaligned, see. You are no harbinger of disease, rather you will be the one who prevents such calamity. And in the present, hmmm..." She purrs thoughtfully as she reveals another card. "Another Hammer: The Beating. You won't enjoy this lesson, but it will reveal strength you didn't know you had within." Without further comment, she reveals the final card. "The Avalanche, your first Key. She flows unthinking, and destroys without knowing. This calamity will be senseless- violence without purpose.... or so it seems."

The quiet sounds of paper on paper herald the final row. She places these cards down... respectfully? "Your Future... The Publican!" She begins to laugh, a crooked thing, but genuine. "Oh, my child. You will not work alone for long. The Stars enter your signs for the future! You will find friendship and camaraderie, and refuge therein..." She reveals the second card, another Key. "Hmmmm, The Demon's Lantern. You will face a situation with no good outcome, I'm afraid. Every path forward will bring pain, and it will be your choice who bears the brunt of it...." In the weighty silence, she reveals the last card... and frowns deeply. "The Twin," she murmurs. For several seconds, she scans the nine cards presented, gently touching each and looking into your eyes before moving on to the next. "The Twin is fickle," she explains, holding the card up so you can see it. A pair of doppelgängers stand back to back, one frowning, the other grinning widely. "You will.... struggle with your purpose. Two contrary goals war within you. Sometimes, The Twin tells us that each card prior bears a secret meaning. For him to come last is... an ill omen, indeed." She spends several more seconds gazing into your eyes with a fierce intensity.

"Your destiny," she murmurs, waving her arms over the nine cards. With a sweep of her right arm, she gathers them all, and begins quietly shuffling away as you consider their meanings.

Spoiler: Lasting effects

Show

1: twice, in the next 24 hours, you may gain a +1 luck bonus on any fortitude save.
2: twice times, in the next 24 hours, you may gain a +1 luck bonus on any attack roll.
3: twice times, in the next 24 hours, you may gain a +1 luck bonus on any skill check.
4: twice, in the next 24 hours, you may gain a +1 luck bonus on any reflex save.
5: once, in the next 24 hours, you may gain a +1 luck bonus on any will save.

All of these bonuses are one-use, at will without an action. They can be applied to any rolls after the fact, but before I reveal the results.

Tobias clanks about the fairgrounds, an unlikely sight in his gleaming armor. Perhaps, for all the talk, the sheriff isn't all that worried for the safety of the crowd.

He struggles at archery, having accurately noted his preference for the blade. Still, it's not an embarrassing performance- not many of the players hit a bulls-eye after all. He watches appreciatively as a local farmboy- if the jibes are true- manages to nail it twice in a row! Once might be luck... he wonders. As the kids gather cheering and grasping for bites of the pie, smiles are plentiful.

Not to be outdone, Tobias approaches the weight lifting contest. A wide-shouldered man struggles mightily with the largest weight, being urged on by his companion of similar size. "C'mon Thorn! It's no bigger'n a log!" With notable effort, this "Thorn" manages to heave it overhead, to great cheers from the small (but exuberant) crowd. When a Gnome approaches, jerky sticking out one side of his mouth, plenty of comments of "Mister, maybe this ain't the best fit?" are roughly silenced as he deftly manages the first weight. "Well I'll be! Look at that, Thorn! Little fella got it! Let's see 'f-!" He quickly is silenced by Ip's awkward tumble, and dashes forward to rescue the poor trapped fellow. "Don't you feel bad, mister! You got that first one! It must weigh double what you do!"

The snorts of Tobias' approach are quickly silenced when he hefts the final bar with apparent ease. "Gods alive, he did 'at in his armor!" one of the crowd gasps. More than a few cheers and claps on the shoulder fall as the swordsman makes his way onward. He manages to glean from Ibor Thorn and his partner Banny Harker that the two run the local lumber mill. They've done well, but they don't send anyone out alone anymore. There are too many Goblins poking and prodding where they shouldn't, and a few of their boys have gotten seriously hurt. "They'll recover," Thorn is quick to interject, but Harker's expression suggests he isn't so sure...

The barker at the Dragon Races looks almost ready to puke as he glances back and forth between Bryn and the rest of the competitors. "Ah, miss... Mister..." After a notable pause, he hands Brynlieagh a copper piece with an expression of resignation. "Yeah, 'course ya did!" he exclaims, much too loudly to be genuine. Turning away, he quickly hurries to another patron. "Mistress Sybil! How good of you..."

Finally, several tables are shoved together as a small crowd gathers for the eating competition. Tobias and Ipdolur easily put away the first course, more a warm up than anything else. Still, the dish actually tasted good, which is something of a surprise given the nature of the contest. The second dish, however, does not. Tobias quickly finds himself a bit outmatched, and is forced to concede, red-faced and sweating profusely under his armor. Ipdolur lasts a few more rounds, but to most everyone's surprise it's a waifish young woman who sits across from the burly lumberjacks in the last few rounds. Though she puts a good face on it, she probably should have given up a few rounds back, and ends up vomiting into a small keg kept on hand for just such an occasion.

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

With the victory and two pies, Klim is pretty happy. He says loudly, "Git back, savages! Git yer mitts off m'pie!"
When he has a brief respite, he grins and hands the pies to a couple of smaller kids he saw shooting at a closer target. "Here ya go, youngin's ... yer in charge."

One looked up at him with big, quivering eyes. "W-w-what are we 'sposed to do with these?"

Klim laughed and shrugged as he headed off. "Eat 'em, toss 'em, share 'em, sell 'em .. whatever ya wanna do. They yurs. Enjoy!"

With that done, he headed back to the main area, hoping to get something to eat and drink. As he always did, he found himself headed towards the Rusty Tavern. Ameiko was always nice to him, and he could usually get something tasty if she wasn't too busy. He reached for the door, pausing only for a moment as he considered who else might be in there. Rolling his eyes, he hesitated and stepped back. Did he really want to deal with her today? Aside from being being crazier than a red cape hyped on whiskey and wild shrooms, she just ... creeped him out. The bird was annoying, too, but the cat wasn't so bad. Unless Ulfar was around ... then it was just a whole thing.

Steeling himself, Klim pushed aside his concerns and headed in, muttering to himself, "Ah ain't 'fraid no girl, fairy or no. She ain't gonna keep me from eatin'!"

He reached out to the door, his mind still churning as he hoped she wasn't in there ...

---

OOC - Headed to the Rusty Dragon ... but no one is home!
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

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0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Yeah, 'course ya did!" he exclaims, much too loudly to be genuine.

With a satisfied smile that suggests she doesn't actually care if she won legitimately or not, Brynlieagh literally skips away from the races and the men gambling on them. "Give me that!" snaps Lenore, eliciting a mock-sigh from Brynlieagh and a copper piece flipped into the air for the raven to catch. Lenore catches it with a talon and seems to make the coin disappear into her shadowy wings, though surely that's not possible...With a yawn Lyssmi follows the other two dutifully, silent pads falling in steady rhythm on the cobblestones.

Brynlieagh continues to enjoy samples of all the assorted foods, eating with her hands and generally avoiding either plates or utensils, and walks around the gathering with a broad, nearly manic smile. As she's licking her fingers Brynlieagh sees a man wearing knight's armor and gasps. "Wow...that much iron makes me hurt just looking at it..." she says, possibly loudly enough that he hears her as she steps carefully to give him a wide berth.

Then she sees a man from out of town leave Madame Mvashti's tent and gasps. "Lyssmi! We haven't seen the seer-lady in too long! She always has such fun things to say, and I love watching her shuffle the cards! And they're so pretty, with all the funny numbers and symbols on them! Come on!" she exclaims as she dashes towards the tent, upsetting Lenore and eliciting a sigh from the big cat as it steadily pads after her mistress.

At the tent flap Brynlieagh calls inside with genuine enthusiasm, "Madame Mvashti! Do you have time to read our fortune? Please oh pretty please! I promise that Lenore won't try to take anything this time! Oh, I know - I'll have her stay outside with Lyssmi, will that be alright? Ameiko says that's the 'polite' thing to do, since they're neither pets nor people..."

---

Regardless of her reading, Brynlieagh steps out of the tent with a fake-solemn expression and takes Lyssmi's massive face in her hands seriously. "Lyssmi, we have to be careful and watch Lenore - the next time she steals from Mvashti she might get cooked over a spit!"

"She said no such thing! I was listening!" responds Lenore seriously, hopping down from the rim of the tent and onto Brynlieagh's shoulder. "Besides, I'm not afraid of anyone in this town..."

"You've never even been to another town, Lenore!"

"Well, no, but...oh nevermind!" says the raven exasperatedly. Lyssmi just holds Brynlieagh's stare calmly until the little half-elf loses interest and turns to do something else.

"Hey, there goes Klim! He likes me - let's go talk!" says Brynlieagh as she watches the young man enter the Rusted Dragon. Then she turns to skip in that direction, mischief oozing out of every pore...

[Farmerbink]

Spoiler: Brynlieagh's fortune

Show

The inside of Madame Mvashti's tent is supernaturally dark. You've peeked into her shop enough times to expect as much. The crone lets out a long sigh as she peers at you over her glasses. "Back again, my sweet? Who'd you steal the coin from this time, eh? Heh heh heh..." Half cackling, half chuckling, she extends a wiry hand, palm up, and you deposit a shiny pebble filched from Lenore. "Come child, you know the rules. The reading's no good if silver hasn't changed hands. Out with it." With a begrudging smirk, you give the seeress a silver, and her hand disappears into her flowing robes.

The faint sound of paper against paper somehow fills the space, resonating in your head as the hazy blue smoke distracts your vision. The woman's glassy eyes are closed anyway. With a gentle slap, three cards hit the table.

"As always, we begin with your past- clouded and useless as the visions may be...." She moves her hand to reveal the first card, and laughs. "Hahaha, of course we begin with the Twin! If ever your purpose was not double- or more! I'd have to eat my cowl! As always, the Crowned Joker guards your past- and perhaps watches over your future." She reveals the second card. "Ah yes, another familiar visitor, The Two of Crowns: The Betrayal. Envy and a twisting of spirits has led to where you are." She reveals the third card without preamble. "Interesting, we haven't met the Mountain Man before... the Two of Shields- a force greater than us all... You must yield to the force of this authority- else you would not have survived." Madame Mvashti snickers. "Unless the Twin means all of this is backwards. Are you the betrayed, or the betrayer, I wonder? Could you yet be the mountain man? Hummmm"

She shuffles once more, the quiet thup thus thup permeating the space. With a gentle slap, three more cards appear. "Your present... The Inquisitor! You don't get many Books, girl. And this one... This one says to accept nothing short of the absolute truth. Your very life may depend on it. Could be problematic for you, heh heh heh..." She reveals the second card and laughs aloud. "Hah! How fitting, then, that we follow with The Liar! She will rip the heart out of her lover, sooner than let him live without her! Who, I wonder, do you adore so deeply? So selfishly?" She pauses for only a moment, allowing the sheer irony to linger. "Don't tell me- it's not my place to know that way. Instead..." she reveals the third card of the present, and scowls... "Girl, what have you become entangled in? The Fiend is never a good omen." Frowning, she ponders the placement of the cards so far. For what surely won't be the last time, she gazes on the Half-Elf girl with fierce attention, scrutinizing your every feature. "He is in his truest placement," she murmurs with a grimace. "I pray only that we witness his second meaning. For many will die, or there is a powerful, intelligent darkness already here- seeking those it may devour. The best hope is that this power may be overcome...."

Thup thup thup. Thup thup thup. Thup thup thup. She shuffles a long time, apparently disturbed by the cards before her. "You never bring an easy reading, you know that, girl?" Thup thup thup. She places the final trio of cards on the small oaken table. "Your future. The Mute Hag. She may say nothing, but her eye sees into the hearts of men. There will be blood- poisonous secrets." She reveals the second card- she almost seems eager to finish the reading, perhaps uncomfortable with your presence. "Ah, The Lost," she murmurs, a bit sadly. "Forever mad, the Nine of Stars heralds a world where nothing makes sense and no one understands another." She reveals the final card, and blinks in surprise. "The Paladin? You make no sense, girl, and your fortunes make less. If..." her wrinkled hand falls upon The Twin, once more, perhaps idly. "If You stay the course, persevere in doing Right... There is no 'if', this is your keystone. You must, you will stand firm, in the face of heavy adversity. And it may prove your salvation..."

Suddenly, Mvashti blinks, and awareness seems to flood into her eyes. "Blasted spirits! Begone from my! oh, Brynlieagh, how good of- oh? Did I just give you a reading?" She smiles, the wrinkled skin around her eyes crinkling in apparently genuine amusement. "Well, I hope you were listening, girl, because I don't remember it!" She collects all of the cards with a flourish, disappearing them into the folds of her gown. "Run along now, sweetheart. And try not to eat any children!"

Her airy, amused wheezes of laughter follow you into the suddenly bright daylight, unsure if you know any more than you did before.

Spoiler: Lasting effects:

Show

As before,
2x uses of +1 luck to attack rolls
2x uses of +1 luck to will saves
1x use of +1 luck to fortitude
2x uses of +1 to skill checks
2x uses of +1 to initiative checks

[3SecondCultist]

Cade's eyes almost seem to gleam as they take in the surroundings of Madame Mvashti's tent. The ambiance is perfect, a veritable potpourri of Varisian cultural trappings, from the performer's smoke to the evident use of magic to lower the lighting inside. He honestly has half a mind to openly applaud; the whole thing is well done. With such an eye for detail like this, the Madame must be making quite a bit of money from gullible passers-by. He tosses in a few additional coins as a tip into one of the countless wooden bowls as a tip before sitting down to hear the charlatan earn her silver.

He sits through the reading, not quite capable of keeping the bland smirk from his face. His hands twitch idly while the fortune-teller speaks, always finding something to play with - a button on his coat, the strap of his bandolier digging into his left shoulder, picking at his ragged nail-beds. I really should brew an unguent for that, he muses. If he doesn't moisturize, he may end up bleeding at his fingertips and contaminating one of his compounds by accident. There are gloves, of course, but he's never enjoyed the restriction of manual dexterity that comes with covering his hands.

Belatedly, Cade realizes that the old woman is finishing up her song-and-dance number. His smile widens in open condescension. "You must know, I made a study of Varisian troupes and their techniques when researching my first expedition. It's a delightful bit of cold reading, I must admit, and masterfully done! You read every single mark before they ever sit in this chair, making assessments on body language, age, clothing, gender, and any number of other physical factors." He leans forward excitedly. "From there, the cards. There is more than one meaning to each card in a Harrow deck - the perfect cover to provide vague statements that the mark will then connect to their own lives. Even without my having to say anything, you can read the response on my face, the way my shoulders tighten when you speak of loss or how I go still when you mention calamity. So many tiny little tells."

"My turn then, hm?" The investigator rests his palms over Mvashti's, although he does not reach for the deck himself. He knows better than to try to actively divine a Harrow deck against someone who has made it her trade. Besides, he doesn't need them.

"We'll start with the obvious: you are a local here in Sandpoint, but you aren't a member of any of the big concerns like the Mercantile League. Based on your evident age and ethnicity, I'd wager that you were an elder in the area before there even was a Sandpoint. This has been your land for generations now, and I can't imagine that you're too fond of the big families that have moved in." The young man's fingers run through the old woman's, feeling each callus and ridge, seeking the story beneath the skin. "You aren't unaccustomed to hard work, but it's been some time since you had to truly fend for yourself. You have people who care for you... no, not just people. Someone in particular, someone willing to make regular trips to see that you're cared for. A relative, perhaps?" With each deduction, the speed of Cade's voice increases; he's nearly fever-pitch already.

"Now here you are, working as a carnival side-show like this in a town full of people you disdain. This isn't enjoyable for you anymore, is it? After years of casting the bones and reading the cards, you're always brooding about the future. It's the fate of any seer to bear witness to doom and gloom. No, this is an obligation, something that somebody talked you into. All of your friends have moved on, leaving you alone here with what's left of your bloodline - ah, a daughter! Well, balance of probability in any case. Chances are that a son would have sought a fortune or trade elsewhere, but a daughter would have stayed to take care of her infirm and aging mother. Although there was a line outside, very few of the Sandpoint locals have even looked twice at your tent. They're all waiting for you to die, aren't they? A pity that you're no longer relevant in this era."

His interest in this subject having waned, Cade rises to his feet, bowing with a sardonic flourish. "Thank you for a diverting few minutes from what was turning out to be a dreadfully mundane affair. I bid you good day, Madame Mvashi!" He wastes no further time in the tent, striding out with all speed and nearly colliding with a ragged girl and what looks to be a big cat. The sight should probably elicit at least a raised eyebrow, but then again he grew up in Magnimar. He steps out of her way without a word, pushing on through the crowd.

Spoiler: OOC

Show

Cade will pay 5 silver to Madame Mvashti for her fortune telling. He'll then seek out the inn, eventually landing at the entrance to the Rusty Dragon when the narrative would be the most appropriate.

Perception: (1d20+8)[25]

Sense Motive: (1d20+8)[16]

[Farmerbink]

Madame Mvashti smiles warmly, like a grandmother with a treasured child when Cade's palms eclipse her own. Her thumbs twitch briefly, as if she longs to close the grasp and deepen the connection, but she doesn't. Perhaps she doesn't want to distract Cade, or perhaps she doesn't truly feel that depth of connection. She nods slowly, deeply comfortable with the intimate contact of both hands and eyes, only briefly seeming lost in thought as she considers either his words or the memories of days gone by she calls to mind. She makes no effort to interrupt his frenetic declarations, though her grandmotherly eyes twinkle as he reaches his climactic conclusion.

"They're all waiting for you to die, aren't they?"

Unable to fully contain herself, a quiet snort of a laugh escapes her nose at this penultimate portent.

When Cade rises, she interrupts only long enough to comment "I'm glad to have given you that much-" just before your final comment,

"Thank you for a diverting few minutes from what was turning out to be a dreadfully mundane affair. I bid you good day, Madame Mvashi!"

As you step into the daylight, her comforting voice intermingled with apparently genuine laughter follows you: "Enjoy your afternoon, young man!" You blink the brightness away, wondering in spite of yourself if there might be a shred of truth to the woman's chicanery. Surely not.

A handful of individuals in the crowd glance your way, though none immediately step forward to start a conversation.

[MuffinMan]

After the second arrow splits the first bullseye, Tobias silently regards the "farm boy" Klimvell for a long while as he is congratulated by the crowd and then disappears back into it. Well, well - they may not be warriors, but there are still a few locals possessing some skill. A good reminder... "I know when I'm bested!" he laughs, handing the borrowed bow back to Jodar Provolost. "I'm just happy not to be a Sandpoint Devil right about now!"

"Daverin Hosk?" Inquiring about the name eventually leads Tobias to the village square where he sees the substantial line for the Goblin Toss. He dutifully takes his place at the end of the line, towering over the rest of the (mostly-children) players as he waits for his turn. After paying his copper, he tests the heft of his new "goblins" before turning to regard the owner. "You are Daverin Hosk, are you not?" *thunk* He frowns and adjusts his stance before lobbing his second bag. "My name is Tobias Everlund." *thunk* "I believe you knew my cousin: a knight by the name of Sir Jeremiah?" *thunk* Without pausing to examine the outcome, he lowers his voice and leans in towards the man. "I'm sorry I must be the one to inform you - he passed away last winter. A great tragedy... I know you and he were partners, once. He spoke of you fondly."

Spoiler: Goblin Toss

Show

Ranged attack v AC 15:
(1d20+4)[12]
(1d20+4)[8]
(1d20+4)[21]

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Distracted by his thoughts, Klim tugged mightily on the door and blinked as he slipped a bit when the door remained closed. Frowning, he glanced at the door more closely and finally noticed the sign that said "Gone to the Festival" in big red letters. Blushing a bit, Klim stepped back and turned away, pretending he hadn't just done that. As his head came around, he barely caught sight of a dark flash as a small figure impacted him, grabbing him tightly around his waste.

"GAH, GOBLIN! GIT IT OFF ME!" Klim started yelling, desperately trying to back peddle as he looked down. Looking down in horror, he saw deep blue eyes peering up at him, attached to a doll-like face, grinning up at him. Blinking, Klim's blood went cold as he realized this was no goblin.

It was much worse.

"Hiya, Klim! Whatcha yelling about?"

Klim stammered a bit, slowly extricating himself from the young girl. "Uh, h-hey there, Bryn. Gud t'see ya agin. How's ... um ... how's Lyssami 'n Lenore?" He started looking around, knowing it was even odds the cat was lurking close by and probably the size of a small wagon. "I was l-lookin' fer Ameiko ... seener? "

---

OOC - Whether Bryn realizes how uncomfortable Klim is around her remains to be seen. Klim is likely just as nervous around certain ladies.
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

Show

0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[3SecondCultist]

Shaking his head at the words of the fortune-teller, Cade strides through the crowded festival. For a few minutes, he ambles aimlessly, searching for something to distract his mind. There are feats of physical prowess, which are as dull as he might have expected. After some time of that, Cade bores of searching for meaning in distraction and his goal begins to turn towards the next steps of his plans. There must be at least one boarding house in Sandpoint that has rooms available to rent, even amid the hubbub of this thrice-damned festival. The local Thassilonian ruins aren't going to excavate themselves, and he needs a base from which to operate and gather supplies. He finally gets some directions from a local and begins to head in the direction of the Rusty Dragon. As his gaze is constantly searching, the rest of his mind wanders down its own remote corridors, considering various possibilities.

A shout breaks his train of thought, a nearby cry for help. Goblins? His hand strays down to the handle of his sword. There are tribes in the Lost Coast region, but it is a matter of some debate as to their number and location. A goblin attack is not the highest item on his list of probabilities for today, but it is certainly possible.

A quick survey of his immediate surroundings, however, reveals no sharp-toothed monsters. Instead, it's a young chap with straw-colored hair and wearing outdoor leathers, with what looks to be the same girl who was entering Madame Mvashti's tent after his departure. As luck would have it, they seem to be standing in front of the very inn he's been looking for. Cade's mouth turns into a frown when he reads the same words: 'Gone to the Festival'.

So much for a modicum of peace and quiet.

Approaching the pair slowly, Cade begins to scan them in more depth. They appear to be a study in contrasts: whereas the man is all warm browns and greens, her midnight hair and azure eyes seem truly wild. She is petite, he is tall and muscular if somewhat thin. The girl - he hears the man call her Bryn - has her arms tightly bound around his waist until he gently removes himself from the embrace. Are they paramours? Unlikely, he decides. The man's raised brows and widened eyes do not express affection or any kind of carnal emotions that Cade has heard about. Rather, they betray a sense of deep anxiety - though Cade cannot reason for the life of him why anyone would feel that way.

"Excuse me," the investigator clears his throat at the pair, "but I don't suppose either of you would happen to know the whereabouts of this establishment's proprietor? I was endeavouring to secure temporary lodgings in Sandpoint and was directed here."

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Klim's gaze snapped up at the man, a look of relief in his eyes as he nodded vigorously, stepping away from Brynleigh and towards the newcomer. Obviously the man was from out of town and needed assistance, and didn't his Da always say 'help a stranger and make a friend?'

"Howdy mista! Yer in th'right place, but y'ain't on time ... them's what run the place are kickin' up their heels. C'mon, Ah'll show ya."

As Klim made to walk away, hoping his stride would put some distance between him and Bryn, he glanced over his shoulder and added, "Oh, Ah'm Klimvell Mikoye, but most round these parts call me Klim. What's yer name, mista?"

---

OOC - Figured this was something Klim would leap at, but don't want to go too far and not let Bryn respond ...
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

Show

0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[DarkOne-Rob]

"Hiya, Klim! Whatcha yelling about?"

Brynlieagh was very proud of herself and her accent. "I thought I go it about right this, time, don't you, Klim?" she begins to ask before he interruptw with that awful nickname.

Klim stammered a bit, slowly extricating himself from the young girl. "Uh, h-hey there, Bryn. Gud t'see ya agin. How's ... um ... how's Lyssami 'n Lenore?" He started looking around, knowing it was even odds the cat was lurking close by and probably the size of a small wagon. "I was l-lookin' fer Ameiko ... seener?"

A stormcloud begins to grow on Brynlieagh's face, largely hidden by the shadow from the overhang of the Rusty Dragon's roof. "Lyssmi and Lenore are fine, Klimvell, but you know I can't stand it when you shorten my name. It is Brynlieagh - 'Bryn-lee-ah,' with all three syllables," she says, glaring daggers at the young man in cold, alien fury. Even out of the sunlight her eyes seem to shine with an inner light that does not make her look friendlier.

Luckily, a newcomer approaches, distracting Klim and breaking the chain of Brynlieagh's anger momentarily.

"Excuse me," the investigator clears his throat at the pair, "but I don't suppose either of you would happen to know the whereabouts of this establishment's proprietor? I was endeavouring to secure temporary lodgings in Sandpoint and was directed here."

Brynlieagh considers answering, but instead turns and skulks away. Lenore flies down and lands on her shoulder, preening the feathers on her wing distractedly. "You shouldn't let him mis-name you like that. It can lesser your power..."

"I know that, but I can't just out and hurt him when someone is watching. Here - let me find a quiet, dark place for a moment..." replies Brynlieagh as she works her way to a dark corner at the end of the narrow space between buildings. Then she sits down on her legs, nearly kneeling, and begins to quietly chant to herself, nearly prayerfully. "Klimvell Mikoye, Klimvell Mikoye, Klimvell Mikoye, Klimvell Mikoye, Klimvell Mikoye, Klimvell Mikoye, Klimvell Mikoye..." After about a minute of this she rises again and finds Lyssmi laying down nearby. "Come on, Lyssmi. Count Ranalc will bless my efforts. Even though Klim is nice, I won't let him keep gutting me like that. He probably doesn't understand, but that's no excuse!"

Lyssmi just yawns and pads along, following the half-elf girl as she exits the alley and follows the two men back towards the fair. Brynlieagh can be heard quietly muttering as she argues impotently at no one about the perceived slight.

---

Before Brynlieagh can step into the crowded square, Lenore has flapped off and into the air, circling lazily above the throng. "Wow! That's the biggest, shiniest thing I've ever seen, come on Brynlieagh!" cries the raven as she flies in the direction of a heavily armored man. Brynlieagh and Lyssmi, one sullen and one ever-stoic, follow on foot as the crowd parts for the unusual pair.

Once she sees Daverin Hosk and the knight speaking, though, Brynlieagh smiles and laughs. "What are you going to do, Lenore? Try and fly off with his entire suit of armor? Silly bird!" she giggles as the raven swoops in close and tries to land on Tobias' helmet!

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Klim blinked in surprise at the young woman's sudden fury. He knew he didn't understand women the way his Da understood his Ma - and this one was stranger than most - but he had never known she didn't care for folks not saying her entire name. He didn't go around demanding everyone call him Klimvell Mikoye ... why should she care if She was called Bryn Lee Ah? The look she gave him was filled with spit and vinegar, and he actually wondered if she'd go from hugging him to attacking him. However, before he could stammer a response, the newcomer arrived asking for directions. Bryn (Lee Ah) moved away, no longer interested in events here.

"Uh ... sorry, 'bout tha' mista. Follow me ..."

---

OOC - Given Klim is polite, it would be unlikely he would call her something she had said not to call her (especially given her temper). I'll chalk it up to the fact that he's probably never said it before, even if she thinks he has :D
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

Show

0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[3SecondCultist]

Cade follows the exchange between Klimvell and Brynlieagh impassively, the investigator's flat stare moving back and forth with each comment. He does not add his voice to the conversation, preferring to keep out of what appears to be a rather pointless squabble. When the girl turns tail and flees rather than answer his relatively simple question, he turns to the hunter with a single raised brow.

"Unfortunate," he says, though whether he is referring to 'them's that run the place' being absent or the petulant display of emotion is unclear. He accepts Klim's lead without prompting, keeping pace with the other man half a step behind and to the right. His hand remains idly on the hilt of his sword.

"Klimvell Mikoye... that is an unusual name," Cade starts as they walk. He gives his new companion a once-over, his continuous observation taking in every detail. "Farm or ranch?"

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Klim smiled and replied. "Ranch ... but we got plenty critters mostly seen on farms. Most folk don't know the diff. But you look citified t'me. Been on either afore?"

---

OOC - Klim seems easy going and friendly and not really hiding anything. He's just chatting :)
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

Show

0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[3SecondCultist]

Cade shakes his head sharply from one side to the other. "Although the rural mode is entirely beyond me, you wear its trappings openly. The collected dirt on your clothing speaks to spending a great deal of time outdoors. You did not dress up for the festival, which means you either cannot afford another pair of clothes or do not care much for the social niceties of this event; I would suspect both. The divot on your left shoulder can only come from a hunting bow, which, combined with the state of your fingers, teeth, and skin, implies that you don't live in Sandpoint proper. However, you seem quite familiar with these environs and the local characters, which leads me to believe that you visit regularly."

The investigator indicates their surroundings with an outstretched hand, palm facing the open sky. "Despite the festivities, the town of Sandpoint is quite remote - the Lost Coast is not inaccurately named - and would not have too many couriers from the rest of Varisia. However, there are several farms and ranches in the southern reaches of the Hinterlands within a few hours' walk from here. Therefore, the most likely conclusion that any imminently reasonable mind would arrive at is that you hail from a nearby ranch or farm. You ferry over deliveries of goods from your family's land and are in town just in time for today's event."

By the end of his spiel, Cade is smiling. "And the name is Caedus Rhineheart, of Magnimar."

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Klim blinked several times at the man, glancing back several times during Cade's 'assessment.' He snorted at the end, muttering, "Man's near as good as th'witch sellin' fortunes fer a silver ..." But almost as quickly, he brightened and nodded to Cade. "Well Ah guess Ah'm right ... yer a city fella!
Pleased t'meet ya, Mr. Cade."

As soon as he spoke, he blanched and stopped walking. "Sorry, sir! Ah meant Mr. Cay Dus Rineheart, of Magna-mar! Ah don't wantcha gettin' mad I cut yer name!"

---

OOC - chatty-chatty
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

Show

AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

Show

0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[Farmerbink]

Tobias earns a few... disapproving glances as he joins the line for Goblin Toss in his gleaming mail. Still, he's largely grown accustomed to it, as a sore thumb must. His polite patience seems to gently ease the worst of them into something approaching neutral, if still confused. When he reaches the front of the line, the proprietor smirks. "Bit overdressed, eh chum?" he comments, while handing over the corn-stuffed figures.

"You are Daverin Hosk, are you not?" *thunk*

"Aye, since me mum sobered up, at least!" he laughs easily, much enjoying his role at the festival.

"My name is Tobias Everlund." *thunk* "I believe you knew my cousin: a knight by the name of Sir Jeremiah?"

"Well met... sir? Tobias? Though, I can't say your stressing of 'were' comes easy."

"I'm sorry I must be the one to inform you - he passed away last winter. A great tragedy... I know you and he were partners, once. He spoke of you fondly."

It's a rueful but genuine smile that Hosk offers at the last. He hands you a paper pouch of dried jerky, and takes advantage of the closeness to place a hand on your shoulder. "Aye. He was a good man. Dare I ask what befell him? Likely as not, he made the wrong enemy, eh? Never could leave well enough alone when he saw a wrong needed rightin'." He chuckles. "Always liked that about him, if I didn't much enjoy what it said about me..." He falls silent for a moment, lost in thought. He interrupts the conversation briefly to accept a copper and hand the next man his three bags. A short time later, he grins, turning back to you. "Ah, of course! You want the horse I promised him! I'd be glad to honor his memory passin' his blessing on to you. See me tomorrow at the Goblin Squash, eh? Can't rightly disappoint all the kiddos on the day of the Festival by closin' up shop so early?!" He politely excuses himself, and resumes bantering with mostly the youngsters, occasionally pausing to gaze wistfully into the distance, smiling at the memories brought to mind.

---

As will happen, the morning passes into afternoon, with little preamble. The only noteworthy difference this day is the opening of various stalls at the town square, and the sudden, rapid spread of free food throughout the gathered assembly. Eager whispers of "Have you tried Ameiko's curry-spiced salmon?" and "Can you believe it? Peppercorn venison two years in a row? I thought Garridan had more tricks up his sleeve!" tear through the crowd. Plates of barley-rice and bowls of lobster chowder alike are eagerly devoured by the now-suitably hungry festival goers. The afternoon likewise passes with the familiar blend of enjoyment and stress (mostly on the part of the tavern-keepers, who's offerings are to be judged for a coveted prize as well as actual pay on the days to come) common to most fairgrounds and celebrations.

Finally, as the sun is just beginning to kiss the old light overlooking the Varisian Gulf, a sharp retort like thunder draws every eye to the makeshift stage. A stray dog- sleeping under a nearby wagon- starts awake, and the buzz of two dozen conversations quickly hushes as all heads turn toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus has taken the stage. The dog's bark breaks the silence before the priest can speak. He clears his throat, looks down at the stray sternly, and begins to speak. "Good evening, friends," he begins. "At Mayor Deverin's request, I will lead us all in the Prayer of First Dreaming, to officially call this year's Swallowtail Festival to a close." After a suitable pause, he begins a chant which apparently most of the crowd also has memorized. "Hail Mother of the sparkling skies, You of plenty and fertile womb, breathe Thy blessing upon my heart, nourish my soul that I, too, may create the world with love..."

A sudden, shrill scream pierces the air, easily cutting through the low murmur of prayer. A few moments later, another similar shriek rises, then another. In the distance, behind the towering cathedral, a surge of storage voices seem to draw nearer. High-pitched voices. Tittering, inhuman squeals. The crowd suddenly parts, and something small and low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing, malicious glee. The stray dog gives a sudden pained yelp as it passes with a glint in the torchlight, before collapsing gurgling, into a rapidly-spreading pool of its own blood. The raucous sound of a strange song begins, echoing off the walls, seeming to come from all directions.

Begin Combat
((The map shows the one Goblin that killed the dog. Successful perception will (probably) reveal more!))

[DarkOne-Rob]

Spoiler: Brynlieagh's (et al) Status, Round 1

Show

Spoiler: Brynlieagh

Show

Brynlieagh Elvdought
Female Chaotic Neutral Half-Elf Blood Unlettered Arcanist/VMC Witch, Level 2, Init 3, HP 13/13, Speed 30 ft
AC 11, Touch 11, Flat-footed 10, CMD 12, Fort 1, Ref 1, Will 3, CMB +1, Base Attack Bonus 1
Bronze Dagger +1 melee, +2 ranged (1d4, 19-20/x2)
Double Quarterstaff +1 (1d6, 20/x2)
No Armor Worn (+1 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 12, Con 12, Int 19, Wis 10, Cha 14
Condition None

Spoiler: Lyssmi

Show

Lyssmi (Base Stats) - Female True Neutral Big Cat Animal Companion, Level 2, Size Medium, HP 19/19, Speed 40 ft.
AC 14, Touch 13, Flat-footed 11, CMD 16 (+4 vs Trip), Fort 4, Ref 6, Will 3, CMB +3, Base Attack Bonus 2
(+3 Dex, +1 Natural AC)
Attacks Bite +3, 1d6+1 Piercing Damage
2 Claws +3, 1d4+1 Slashing Damage, +Witch Toxin (injury; Fort DC 16; frequency 1/round for 6 rounds; effect 1d2 Str; cure 1 save)
Special Attacks Rake (2 Claws +3, 1d4+1 Slashing Damage)
Ability Scores Str 13, Dex 17, Con 13, Int 2, Wis 15, Cha 10
Skill (One Rank Each) Perception +6, Stealth +7, Survival +6
Feats Power Attack, Toughness
Training Combat Training (Attack, Come, Defend, Down, Guard, and Heel)
Tricks 1 Bonus Trick - Attack (to ensure Lyssmi will attack unnatural creatures upon command too)
Special Qualities Low-Light Vision, Scent, Link, Share Spells
[B]Conditions/B] Poison Hex

Lenore w/ +1 Natural AC, 6 Intelligence, Improved Evasion, Share Spells, Empathic Link

"Goblins!" squawks Lenore as the raven hops into a well-hidden satchel strapped across Brynlieagh's left arm.

"I see them! Lyssmi - "

Spoiler: Sylvan

Show

"Kill!"

spits the little half-elf as she moves forward and draws a bronze dagger from deep in her cloak. The cat has already started moving when her mistress commands, the Sylvan an ugly, violent bark coming from the fey child's lips. With a cruel smile Brynlieagh also invokes a subtle hex, causing Lyssmi's claws to drip a thick, viscous toxin that seems to have congealed from thin air!

Spoiler: Mechanics

Show

Brynlieagh will use her Poison Touch Hex on Lyssmi and move towards the fight (somewhere near K6, giving room to any melee PCs who want to go there instead), and draw her bronze dagger while moving (+1 BAB allows this).

Lyssmi will charge (if allowed) to M6 and attack G1 with a (poison) claw: (1d20+3)[10] to hit (does not include +2 from charge, please add if possible), (1d20+3)[22] (20/x2), (1d4+1)[2] slashing damage (+Poison chance! DC 16 Fort to avoid), (1d4+1)[5] critical strike damage.

Lenore will move into Brynlieagh's Familiar Satchel for safety.

If anything incurs AoOs from either Lyssmi or Brynlieagh:

Lyssmi's Claw: (1d20+3)[23] to hit, (1d20+3)[6] (20/x2) (probably not confirmed...), (1d4+1)[3] slashing damage (+Poison chance! DC 16 Fort to avoid), (1d4+1)[5] critical strike damage.

Brynlieagh's Dagger: (1d20+1)[21] to hit, (1d20+1)[21] (19-20/x2) (confirmed! yay...?), (1d4)[3] slashing damage, (1d4)[4] critical strike damage.

[MuffinMan]

Tobias' hand is on his sword hilt at the first scream rings out. When the goblin appears he wastes no time: with a fluidity born of long training he rushes forward, blade coming out and swinging in one continuous motion.

Spoiler: Actions

Show

Initiative (1d20+2)[20]

Move to O/6 and attack G1:
power atk (1d20+8)[19], dmg (1d8+9)[11], cc (1d20+8)[16] (19-20/x2), cdmg (1d8+9)[16]

Spoiler: Status

Show

Tobias Everlund
Male Lawful Good Human Fighter, Level 2, Init 2, HP 22/22, Speed 30 ft
AC 19, Touch 13, Flat-footed 17, CMD 19, Fort 5, Ref 2, Will 1, CMB +6, Base Attack Bonus 2
Masterwork Longsword (2H) +8 (1d8 + 6, 19-20 / x2)
Dagger +6 (1d4 + 4, 19-20 / x2)
Masterwork Breastplate, Masterwork Heavy Steel Shield (+6 Armor, +2 Dex, +1 Misc)
Abilities Str 18, Dex 14, Con 15, Int 12, Wis 12, Cha 7
Condition None

Across from the now-dead goblin he sees a large cat appear, its claws dripping with some unnatural substance. "What in the hells? Be alert - they've brought wild beasts!" He raises his blade and squares off against new the perceived threat...

[DarkOne-Rob]

"That is Lyssmi! He's with me - go stab another goblin!" cries Brynlieagh at the armored knight as she makes a mental note to avoid making contact with all that steel...

[Gwynfrid]

A little tipsy from the drinks and excess food he's absorbed over the course of the day, Ip listens to the priest's praying with respect, but not with a great deal of attention. Ah, Desna, thanks for the lovely d... And his reverie is brutally interrupted by a shriek. And another. And a death rattle! "Oh my gods goblins goblins goblins goblins..." In a panic, the gnome scurries off and climbs the steps, to get on the platform and understand the extent of the attack.

Spoiler

Show

Move to U10.

Perception (1d20+1)[2]

Ipdolur Khosfrenom Hlarmendgol Gnome Oracle (Spirit Guide) of the Heavens, level 2, CG
HP 19-2 / 19
Perception +1, Darkvision
Speed 20 ft
Init 0
AC 11 Fort +3 Ref +0 Will +4
CMB -1 BAB +1
Dagger +1 (1d3-1, 19/x2)
Crossbow, light +2 (1d6, 19/x2)
Str 8 (-1) Dex 10 (0) Con 16 (3) Wis 12 (1) Int 12 (1) Cha 19 (4)

[Starbin]

Klimvell Mikoye, human hunter

Klim leaned against a wall, listening to the low buzz of the crowds that were gathering in the square as he munched on the last bit of venison. It was good, and something the hunter had experience with, but he had to admit the salmon was better. However, as he finished up, he realized he hadn't spoken with the Mayor yet about the attacks on the farmlands. Muttering "Jeb's gonna be madder'n a pi$$ed on hen ..." Klim wiped his mouth and pushed away from the wall to move closer into the crowd around the dais. Before he could cross and find the Mayor, Father Zantus ascended the steps and began to speak. Rolling his eyes, Klim paused, annoyed that he was being delayed even more. "This part ain't ma fault ..."

The scream that rang out startled him, dropping the man into a crouch as he whipped his head back and forth looking for the source of the yell. After a moment, a goblin stepped into the square, its raised knife dripping blood. Chaos broke out as the citizens ran for cover under the shrill songs of what seemed a large contingent of goblins.
Spitting to the side, Klim reached back to pull down his bow ... and grabbed air. Cursing aloud, he remembered he left his bow in the cart! He still had his handaxe, but that wasn't going to handle it, if the sounds around the square were any indicator.

Suddenly, he remembered the Devil hunt around the corner. He turned and sprinted back to the game, hoping they hadn't put away the bows and arrows yet. When he arrived, he breathed out a sigh of relief at the sight of fleeing youngsters who had been left to clean up. Klim grabbed the nearest bow and a quiver filled with arrows before turning and running back.

---

Round 1: Run and get a bow w/arrows! Initiative - (1d20+4)[20], Perception - (1d20+7)[24]
Effects/Conditions: None

Spoiler: Status

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AC: 17 HPs: 15 CMB/D: +2/16 Init: +4
F +4 R +7 W +2 Move: 30’

Spoiler: Spells

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0 (Unl) create water, detect magic, guidance, mending, light
1 - summon nature's ally I, gravity bow, aspect of the falcon, entangle

Perception +7; Handle Animal +6; Stealth +9; Survival +7; Heal +7; Nature +4; Geography +4; Climb +5; Swim +5; Sense Motive +2
Animal Focus 1/2 min
- Ulfar: Bear (+2 Con [comp])
- Klim: None

[3SecondCultist]

Cade surveys the rest of the evening with the same amused boredom he has displayed ever since his arrival. All of this is a distraction, really, though that does not mean he cannot sit back and enjoy the show. Not the actual shows, of course - they are little more than diversions for children and those who play at being adults - but rather the eclectic and provincial groups of people. They are charming in their simplicity, these rural personages, yet he sees no reason to be openly antagonistic towards them. His first conversational foray might have died off rather anticlimactically, but that is hardly sufficient cause to sulk.

Father Zantus takes the stage after a well-timed bit of alchemical theatrics, which has the young man suppress a chuckle. He would recognize the auditory profile of a thunderstone from a hundred yards away. The subsequent emergence of screams in the distance has him frown. Surely that is not a part of this festival? He looks about to find the source, only to pick up on pieces of a distant, guttural song. That sounds like...

"Goblins!" comes a cry, and Cade shakes his head. That is not the first time he has fallen for that particular chestnut today. But when the screams intensify and he sees weapons drawn, the investigator has no choice but to come to a single, inevitable conclusion. He moves towards the same cart he sees others converging on, naked steel drawn and in hand. From the bandolier strapped to his chest, he produces a single metal vial and downs its contents without breaking stride.

Spoiler: Round 1 Actions

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Cade will move 30 ft to L11 while drawing his rapier and spend his action activating his Shield extract. No other moves from me!

Spoiler: Cade, Round 1

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Caedus 'Cade' Rhineheart
Male Chaotic Neutral Human Investigator (Empiricist) 2, Level 2, Init 6, HP 17/17, DR -, Speed 30 ft
AC 18 [22], Touch 14, Flat-footed 14 [18], CMD 15, Fort 2, Ref 8, Will 4, CMB +1, Base Attack Bonus 1,
Masterwork Rapier +7 (1d6, 18-20x2)
Masterwork Chain Shirt (+4 Armor, +4 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 18, Con 12, Int 16, Wis 10, Cha 10
Condition None
Investigator Extracts Prepared 1st level -- heightened awareness (1), shield (0), open vial (1)

[Farmerbink]

GOBLINS!

In the moments that follow, mass chaos erupts. Shrill cries of terror and surprise mingle with grunts and bumps as half the crowd freezes and the other half tries to bolt. Kim is almost knocked to the ground before he escapes, but manages to quickly secure a serviceable bow ((use your own stats)). Tobias feels a few townsfolk jostle him from the back as he strides purposefully towards the most obvious threat. With a squeal, it lunges at the night with an already-bloodied blade. Tobias parries it with the quick, smooth motions of muscle memory, and dispatches the tiny foe impetuously, just as Lyssmi closes on it from the other side.

As he hustles back to the square, Kim is... pretty sure he heard more squealing coming from his right- perhaps a few blocks away?

But Goblins are quick- and sneaky. A pair of them scampers out from a nearby alley and suddenly assault Brynlieagh by surprise. She grunts in pain an exertion as she tries with mixed success to avoid their grim-looking blades. Another screams as it assaults Tobias in utter futility, apparently infuriated by his compatriot's fall. Finally, a fourth dives into the crowd nearby, squealing as it lays about indiscriminately with another of the ugly weapons. With a cry, one of the townsfolk falls, curling into a ball, clutching his stomach.

Spoiler: OOC

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Bryn takes 5 damage from two hits. Tobias is almost impervious to the ankle-biters, but they don't know that- or aren't willing to admit it yet.

Map updated