It's early afternoon on the day of the Founding Festival, and the event is getting underway. Flags and banners wave through the air, and the town square has been cleared of the usual smattering of open-air market stalls; and food vendors, contests, and games have been set up in their place.
The Tavish family has rolled out a few barrels of hard cider from the inn cellar and set up an outside bar. There's an archery contest taking place alongside the east temple wall with a beanbag toss for the children. Rounds of Tug of War are being held in the center of the town square. And Alister Hanning, the overseer of the mill, has set up a log chopping contest.
The event has attracted a few visitors from neighboring communities as well. A few of them quite strange. A band of half-elf gypsies seem to have set up a fortune telling tent, and a band of ratfolk seem to be peddling trinkets from the back of their wagon, which is parked near the apothecary.
Good smells, cheery music, and laughter fill the air. All in all, the day has gone off without a hitch so far.
Hopefully it will stay that way...
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 4:23 am
Castella Waters Rogue - Level 5
Self Appointed Civilian Representative
Eldest daughter of deceased (Old) Parishton Mayor
Amidst the sounds of children laughing and the notes of festive music, Castella had the look of fierce determination on her face. With both hands she held onto a rope, pulling on it with all her weight. The center of town was filled with merry people, and she had taken this moment to relax and entertain the local brats.
At the other end of the rope were about ten of the town's children, and it was about an equal match. The game was going back and forth, Castella would get the children nearer to the center line but more kids would join in and pull her back. Now, as she struggled to keep in the one place her hands were getting tired. Suddenly she threw up her hands in surrender, a pile of children falling into a heap, laughs abounding.
"I give in!" she laughed, watching as they all fell. For a moment she simply acted puffed but as a crowd of children ran at her she took off in the other direction, putting her swift feet to use. Running past the Wagon Wheel Inn, she ducked inside.
It took her a few minutes of waiting before she stepped outside again, only to be pounced on by a handful of children who had spotted her.
Rolling around on the ground, Castella might have looked a fool, but it made the children happy and that reminded her of her own childhood before the attack. Dressed in practical clothing, the only noble adornment she wore was her families pin and a golden hair band with several ruby colored stones (not rubies or jewels, just shiny red rocks).
"Alright, alright! You win..." she smiled, pulling the agreed on winnings from her pocket. In the palm of her hand were toffee sweets, each one looked as though they had been hand wrapped.
"Now get out of here and go scam someone else," she called after them grinning. For anybody who knew her, they would recognize her cheerful personality and love of the town's people. Even though she lived in a nicer house than most, she treated them with respect and didn't mind getting dirty to help out.
Walking around she surveyed the festivities, spotting Alister Hanning she waved him down and made her way to him. "Good afternoon, Alister, a wonderful day to kick of the Founding Festival. The competition seems to be going along well." She nodded to the Log Chopping Contest.
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 4:52 am
Alister glances over as you approach. He gives a noncommittal grunt before turning back towards the current contest. "Yeah yeah, very well. ...Ain't it the damnedest thing. They gripe and moan all day long at the mill, draggin their heels along as they work, but as soon as there's some pretty village girls standin around gawkin at em, they chop like never before." He pauses with a sigh, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "You know, I was worried about having enough lumber to send downriver to them fellers at Maywald Run, what with the break in production and all for this here festival, but at the rate these fools are going we might still make our shipment on time. Hmmph, assuming they don't all go and wear themselves out, that is."
Xenar1 rolled 1 20-sided dice:
4Total: 4 (1-20)
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 4:53 am
(dice, perform check, +7 mod)
the day has been good to her and her family, her younger sister was even smiling. with a smile stretching on her lips Ginger was standing with the other performers taking the place of one of them who need a small break. the festival had been doing quite well and it was about time for the backup performers to play their music.
while she wasn't professional she had enthusiasm as her fingers danced along the flute. closing her eyes she let herself fly away with the music.
spells; (level 0)Light, know direction, Purify Food and Drink, stabilize, (level 1) Cure Light Wounds, Entangle, Produce Flame, Obscuring Mist, (level 2) Owl's Wisdom, Gust of Wind, Tree Shape, (level 3) Summon Nature's Ally III
female neutral chaotic human druid, Level 5, Init +1, HP 27/27, Speed 30
AC 16, Touch 12, Flat-footed 14, Fort +4, Ref +2, Will +9, Base Attack Bonus 3
+1 enchant bonus Darkwood Quarterstaff 4 (1d6/1d6, X2)
+1 enchant bonus, silver -1 (min 1) Silver Dagger (masterwork) 4 (1d4-1, 19-20/X2)
Darkwood wooden armor, Quickdraw shield, light darkwood (+3 Armor, +1 Shield, +1 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 13, Con 10, Int 14, Wis 17, Cha 16
short and small she is sometimes mistaken for a younger person that what she really is. her skin is unblemished without any scars. her most notable traits are her eyes which are golden in color and cat-like in appearance, also has some fine fur-like hair running down her back. after the dragon attack she hasn't been sleeping well and tends to look a little worn out with bags under her eyes. in keeping in tradition with her god which she keeps her hair shoulder length she maintains a braid of hair that goes down her back like a tail. between the beads feathers are woven into the braid.
she wears a standard linen shirt with a vest over it. her cloak is in personally embroidered in a complex celtic style along the border using green thread. wearing sandals and a linen skirt she doesn't really stand out. on her copper red belt she keep several fine quality looking pouches that contains her tools that she needs.
Castella Waters Rogue - Level 5
Self Appointed Civilian Representative
Eldest daughter of deceased (Old) Parishton Mayor
There were many stresses on the towns people, and Castella felt for those who relied on a good years work to come out even or on top. With how bad winter could get, a good harvest whilst work was possible sometimes spelt the prosperity or failure of many a business.
And the town had relied heavily on the Logging Mill's wood production over the years, especially in the fledgling days of New Parishton's development.
"Let them try to woo the ladies for a day, then remind them you gave the day off if they complain about working hard later," she smiled, crossing her arms as she watched several musicians play.
Her eyes picked out one in particular, a young woman who seemed to be feeling the music she played more than just reciting a song. Her name was Ginger, and she had sharp ears (figuratively speaking) that Castella knew were often listening...a skill a rogue can respect. Although she didn't want to make it well known, there had been a few times she had sought out the girls skills. Perhaps there was a sense of understanding, although she had not lost her entire family during the attack, she had grown up with eyes ever watching for mischievous actions.
"Actually, I was meaning to ask you earlier..." Castella spoke more straight forward now, "I was thinking of requesting at the next town meeting that we invest in a school house. If I recommended you personally, over the other local merchants who have started setting up in the nearby regions, would you consider taking on an order of such size?"
She didn't look at Alister as she spoke, instead she focused on the rest of the festival. But she hoped he would recognize the bone she was throwing his way, and remember it later.
[Diplomacy (+14): 24]
iLL iNTENT Wrote:
((OOC: Is there a current school house?))
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 12:10 pm
It's not what you would call a masterpiece but your playing goes along well enough. The people watching clap their hands and sing along with the song, breaking out into a round of applause once it's through. After the song ends, Jon Tavish approaches and gives you and the other players a round of the inn's hard cider, on the house. "That was a fine little ditty!" he laughs. "Always was fond of that one as a boy, I was!"
"Mmn." he grunts, not seeming entirely into the conversation. That is until you bring up your proposition. "School house?" he asks, looking back over to you. "Sounds like a fine idea but where you gonna put it? We done build all inside the town walls. We'd have to expand to fit it in somewhere."
Though the prayers weren't as long as usual, they certainly accomplished what was intended. He could feel the divine power in his hands and mind, as if a confirmation from the entity herself that he may use both spells when needed. He had carefully chosen a spell that would allow him to fire an arrow writhed in electrical energy either as a weapon, or more importantly as a signal to the rest of the town, should something go awry.
He also took the precaution of asking the goddess to grant him the ability to use the Entangle spell, which might be useful in a good number of situations. As he finished his prayer, he stood, coming to his full height with his figured muffled in his Elvish cloak. His hooded head looked up with an unspoken word of thanks to the entity, and he turned his attention to the inhabitants of the temple. He never brought his companion, Baltè, into the temple, for Valtyr figured it would be a little rude to the other people inside the temple. Usually, he allowed Baltè to go on a hunt in the morning while Valtyr did his morning prayers.
The hooded ranger's eyes fell on Father Hersham, who was finishing up a conversation with another townsperson. He strode over to the man, silently greeting him with a nod of his head.
"Hello, Father." As he spoke he brought his head back up, a soft smile playing on his lips. He had come to get to know Father Hersham, mostly since he visited the temple every morning. He was one of the few townsfolk whom Valtyr had any friendship with, besides the rest of the guardians whom he had been acquainted with.
"How are things going with the temple? I believe it's been a while since I have had the opportunity to ask." Valtyr spoke with calm casualty, mostly asking because he tended to donate some of his gold every so often towards the Temple's funds.
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 2:25 pm
Locke stood just outside the reach of the festivities, keeping watch on the joys around him. To keep vigilant was more important to him than partaking in the games and drinks - to watch over these innocent folk was his penance. He had only entered the gates of their previous hometown but a week before the attack, and he had been working to defend them ever since.
Even still, most folk here didn't trust him, and he could hardly blame them. He wore a full suit of armor that he never took off before any one, and if you looked close enough you would see that the horns protruding from his ever-present helm were not mounted on the sturdy headpiece. Furthermore, a red glow peered through the eye slot on his helmet, a view that gave most of the villagers chills.
But even through the leers and jeers, Locke held fast to his duty to guard the people of this town. And this is why he kept his distance, to avoid causing unease at his presence while the people were enjoying themselves. He smiled at the children playing, though none would ever see it, and watched as the townsfolk celebrated.
Among the patrons in the pub, one man had his hat drawn down, assuming to be asleep. He was an odd site; bottles of who-knows-what kept to either side of him, a wicked falchion slung across his back, his silver hair lightly flowing as patrons moved around him. Though the oddity was the weapon he held in his hand.
That was "Abigail," his musket.
And with Abigail in his hands, The Drifter was a man to fear. One of few men that were referred to as a Modern Archer, dabbling with explosives and the new technology of "firearms," The Drifter went from town to town, on the run. From what, nobody knows; however, he ended up here, at this festival, for some reason or another. Perhaps he grew tired of drifting and wanted to set up residence...which would require a name change to The Resident.
Thinking on it, he didn't much care for that name. So The Drifter he would remain.
He stumbled his way out of the bar, into fresh air, hoping to sober up and to actually help out where needed.
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 3:37 pm
Dolok couldn't help but smile as he looked down upon the festivities for a moment. His smile disappeared though I he saw the well armored man that had become all too familiar in town. Needless to say, he was among the villagers who didn't trust him. And how could he? He always wandered about in his black armor, watching with his red eyes, but he hadn't done anything openly hostile. Sighing Dolok turned around, and proceeded to continue his watch, as was his post almost everyday. His clan had attempted to raid the previous town and failed, and he had sworn to protect it, and had failed that as well. His right hand gripped the hilt of his falcata hard, he would not fail this new town. So he'd sworn on pain of death to himself one night in his tent. Which reminded him, wasn't he supposed to make sure the area was clean, since it was so close to the were the festivities were being held. He shrugged, if it had been important, someone would've reminded him, so he went back to his watch.
Today wasnt like most days in Pecha's life. Instead of stalking the alleys and crawling along the roof-tops, she was awkwardly mingling among the folks of the town. While she tried to leave her "job" behind her today, she couldn't help but constantly look around to scope the scene; make sure no one was up to anything sketchy.
Female Lawful Evil Elf Ninja, Level 5, Init +5, HP 39/39, Speed 30ft
AC 19, Touch 15, Flat-footed 14, Fort +3, Ref +10, Will +2, Base Attack Bonus 3
+2 on crit, trip Kama [+1] +10/+8 (1d6+1, 20x2)
+2 on crit, trip Kama +9/+7 (1d6, x2)
unconscious 1 min./2d4 hrs. Shurikan [Drow Poison] (5) +7 (1, x2)
Leather [+1] (+3 Armor, +5 Dex, +1 Deflect)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 20, Con 12, Int 12, Wis 10, Cha 15
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 5:11 pm
Father Hersham turns, smiling as he hears your voice. "Aah, Valtyr, good to see you out and about on this joyous day." he smiles genially, before turning, walking past the archery contest, towards the rear of the temple. "We've been having a bit of excitement as of late in the congregational gardens. Earlier today, Sister Isla found a pair of young lovers fooling about. While she was shooing them out, however, she found some holes in the ground. Might be some sort of animal burrow. Now, Sarenrae teaches us to love all living beings, but if we have some wild animal making its burrow in the gardens, well, some member of the congregation might get bit. I don't suppose I could get you to take a look at it for me?"
Noticing you where you stand out of reach of the festivities, one of the half-elf gypsies peals away from her group by their fortune telling tent and approaches you. "You seem like a man with a lot of interesting stories to tell." she says coyly. "And I'm sure the path ahead of you is rife with excitement and adventure. For a silver coin, I could light up a bit of that path for you."
"Um, pardon me, sir." A voice from behind you tries to catch your attention as you wander out into the fresh air. One of the ratfolk from the wagon stands near the entrance to the inn. He's draped in a dark, hooded cloak, his brown-furred snout protruding out from the hood, whiskers twitching about in the air. Inside his cloak you recognize the sight of a gun belt he wears around his waist, a gleaming pistol in its holster. "We were told there was a gunslinger residing in this town. A rarity really, especially in a town as small as this. I was hoping for a chance to speak with you, maybe show you some of the wares in our wagon. Chance might be we'd have something you could use?"
"Evenin' Dolok, sir." Emalie Meadowlark, proprietor of the town apothecary approaches you. She carries a basket hooked in her arm, filled with dried herbs she probably purchased from one of the out-of-town stall vendors. "Uh, I was hoping to speak with someone about that wagon set up in front of my shop. You know...those ratfolk? I took a peek at what they were selling, and some of it looks like it might be kind of dangerous to me. I don't think any of the guards have checked what they were selling. Could you perhaps go have a word with them?"
At that moment a spray of colorful sparks light up the air near the wagon, accompanied by peels of delighted laughter from some kids drawn towards the spectacle.
As you idle by and watch the festivities, a few things catch your eye:
You see Father Hersham along with Valtyr heading towards the rear of the temple, away from the festivities, deep in conversation. Something also seems to be going on by the wagon the ratfolk have set up. Periodically, colorful sparks will light up the area, accompanied by a sizzling or crackling sound that can just be heard over the rest of the revelry. Whatever it is, the kids seem to be enjoying it. And lastly, a couple of teenagers are circling around to the rear of the general store, glancing about, as if to check if they're being watched.
The Paladin looked the woman with a bit of suprise, it was uncommon for any to approach him. However, he was also aware of the generally outcast nature of gypsies as well, so perhaps she though she understood him. The man silently drew a platinumn piece and placed it in her hand. Even if her fortune telling were a hoax, he felt generous and wanted to help with the celebration. "It's not a silver, but it shines white in the sun. I think it'll do," he said quietly, in deep bass voice.
Posted: Wed Aug 28, 2013 5:42 pm
She frowns slightly at the coin you place in her hand, before going wide-eyed with realization. She looks around, furtively tucking it away in one of the sashes she wears draped about her form, and takes you by the hand, pulling you towards the tent. "Mister, you just bought yourself a fortune telling from my Grams, please, come this way."
The look of suprise in the half-elf's eyes pleases him, and Locke allows himself to be lead towards the tent. It's rare that the fiendish-looking man gets to see the pleased reaction of the charity he has to offer, but times like this make it all worth while. Even beyond what he owes for this second chance at life, it feels good to make a person's day like that.
As he steps into the tent, the warrior looks around to see the oddities scattered about. A spare few objects are familiar to him, trinkets and components to arcane spells - though the man couldn't tell you how he knew such magics.