In the bucolic town of Sandpoint along the western Varisian coast, folk have been up for hours busily preparing for the first day of autumn and the annual Swallowtail Festival. Along with the town's annual festivities intended to honor the region's bountiful harvests gifted by Erastil, today marks a date long looked to by the Sandpoint locals. The New Sandpoint Cathedral, five years in the making, will be consecrated at sunset by the hand of Sandpoint's own Father Abstalar Zantus. Necessitated some five years distant by an unfortunate and grisly series of events which the locals discretely refer to as the "late unpleasantness," the new cathedral is a marvel of superior craftsmanship, its solid construction the hallmark of Sandpoint's well-regarded if somewhat infamous Mercantile League.
The square abutting the cathedral is a beehive of activity. Several merchants have set up tents to vend food, clothes, local crafts, souvenirs, and drink. Others folk have arrived early, hoping to gain positions near the podiums in front of the church and the tables set up beyond. Wooden buffets laden with all manner of delectable foodstuffs both savory and sweet flank a stodgy podium at the bottom of the cathdral's stone steps. The picnic set, members of the church's congregation are joined by Sandpoint's craftsmen, artisans, shopkeepers, general citizenry, and ne'er-do-wells alike in the square. With the Swallowtail Festival set to begin promptly as scheduled, the turnout for the festival's opening speeches looks to be respectable. The throng crowding the square before the church thickens as the last of the servers loading the buffet bustles to and fro and several merchants loudly hawk goods up and down Church Street.
Walding Spaulder, Sandpoint's unofficial town crier, pushes his way to the forefront of the throng. "Make way, make way! Make way for the Honorable Mayor Deverin!" The last of the servers hustle away from the buffet tables as the crowd parts to the right to admit an attractive human woman in her late 20s, her dark hair cropped short in a pragmatic yet becoming style. Wincing at Walding's boisterous introduction, Mayor Deverin nevertheless nods her thanks at the crier, who unctuously smiles at the compliment ere fading back into the crowd. "Thank you, Walding. Good morning, everyone."
The mayor fixes the crowd with a friendly attitude. Her excitement obvious, Mayer Deverin draws a breath and expands her voice so that all gathered may hear. "I see everyone's arrived. Even Larz Rovanky has left off tanning hides to be here. I'm sure his workers are glad it's not their hides getting tanned, at least not today." The Mayor's jest does not go unnoticed; when the chuckles die down and Larz stops glowering, Mayor Deverin continues. "It's wonderful to see so many of you here to join us on this proud day. I'd like to extend my welcome to the many new faces I see in the crowd. As Mayor, I invite you on behalf of our citizenry and the Sandpoint Mercantile League to be welcome within our walls. I hope you shall find the food to your liking, the hosts gracious, and your beds inviting! Sandpoint has much to offer, and 'tis our hope that guests be extended the salt and bread of friendship. Spend some time in Sandpoint and you'll grow to love it like we do. And even if you don't stay long, spend your money while you’re here!" At the mayor's words, several of the merchants vigorously applaud and the crowd itself laughs. Letting the throng settle before continuing further, Mayor Deverin says, "And to all of the old and new faces I see, thank you for your many long hours of planning and preparation, that this year's Swallowtail Festival might meet with success. It is a joy to see you attend our event, and you have my personal gratitude for your gracious help in keeping Sandpoint strong. Thank you especially for all the time, sweat equity, and love you've put into building this fine cathedral that so proudly stand behind me on this fine day. After the late unpleasantness, Sandpoint wasn't complete without her church. We've always had heart. The true heart of Sandpoint is you, her people. But now we have an expression of that heart, and we built it ourselves!"
The crowd roars its appreciation of the Mayor's opening remarks, making any further comments rendered by Her Honorship inaudible for a long minute. At the last, Mayor Deverin shouts over the applause and cheers, "Thank you, thank you all. And without further ado, let me introduce the next speaker, our own sheriff, Belor Hemlock!" Stepping to the left, the Mayor yields the podium to a dark-skinned bulky man, clearly of Shoanti descent, who wears mail and sports a sharply-honed longsword strapped to his back, largely as symbol of office. Still, the blade gleams with intent in the strong autumn morning and the dour-voiced Sheriff nods to the Mayor and strides to the podium.
With eyes that sweep the throng, searching for and marking the location of potential troublemakers, Sheriff Hemlock grips the wooden podium and makes brief remarks to the crowd. "Thank you Mayor. Even in the heat of celebration, let us not forget the sad events that brought us to this day. And also let us not forget the souls that were lost five years ago at the hands of Chopper. I would like you to all join me in a moment of silence to remember the lives that were lost in the fire that claimed our previous chapel." The crowd silences itself and joins the Sheriff in a mass lowering of heads. The proud and joyful remarks of the Mayor are forgotten and even after Sheriff Hemlock raises his head to continue, the silence proves nearly defeaning. Beginning awkwardly, the Sheriff frowns but continues in his grim voice. "In remembering, let us also not allow these events to repeat themselves. I am of the understanding that a bonfire is planned for tonight. I urge you all to observe caution during this event." At a glance and a nudge from Mayor Deverin, the Sheriff clears his throat and smiles, clearly making an uncomfortable attempt at levity. "Enjoy yourselves. Let me introduce the next speaker; give your attention to Cyrdak Drokkus, proprieter of the local theater."
Nodding to the crowd, Sheriff Hemlock walks back to his seat at a nearby table, passing the next speaker, a slim human man already on his way up to the center stage. The theater proprietor proves quite a contrast to the Sheriff. Brightly dressed, sporting a well-groomed and neatly clipped goatee and effeminate mannerisms, Cyrdak Drokkus is effusive in his praise for the day. "Well, thank you Sheriff for that uplifting oratory! I know this town has been through some hard times, but look at what we've accomplished," Cyrdak motions to the cathedral. "And I'm telling you, they spared no expense on this place. Father Zantus's chamber pot? Solid gold! I kid you not, our generous nobles put a pretty copper into the construction of the sanctuary. I've heard it spoken 'round town that all of the Gods got together and scrounged up four gold pieces to help get this thing built! But don't take it from me, the goodly Father over there is the one with the direct line, he's the one you want to hear from! But before I let him get things going, I'd like to take this opportunity to extend my personal invitation to each and every one of you to attend the Varisian premier of Sandpoint Theater's "The Harpy's Curse," starring the world-famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda as Avisera the Harpy Queen! Say it with me, folks--fab-u-lous! And now join me in a bit of applause for his holiness himself, Father Zantus!"
The crowd cheers as Cyrdak motions Zantus to the podium. The priest, while young, looks firmly confident of his position within both town and church, if somewhat noticeably abashed at the reception set up for him. Wearing the traditional ceremonial robes of a priest of Desna and a shiny silver holy symbol about his neck, Father Zantus smiles genially and calms the crowd by raising two open palms to the heavens. "Ahem, thank you. Thank you, Cyrdak. And thank all of you for coming to join us on this most holy day. Today is a day of new beginnings, so without boring you with a long speech, I declare the Swallowtail Festival officially underway!" As the crowd cheers its approval, Father Zantus nods and gestures for all who are gathered to enjoy the buffet picnic spread before them.
Themselves seated at tables or standing at their leisure, Taran, Talasia, Elyra, Grokk, Tac, and Sivan are present in the church square for the morning's opening ceremonies. A pair of fishwives grouse to one another as they mill past the left flank of the series of buffet tables. "...an' can ye believe it, Trudie? Where she found the coin, I do no hazard a guess, but it's ter be free vittles agin this yahr. I'm a tha thinking that me and my Frances might do well ter take up at the Rusty Dragon and juss fer once git us a taste o' ole Ameiko's savories..."
Last edited by CanadienneBacon; 4th June 2009 at 06:13 PM..
Ever since Elyra had come to Sandpoint, Tac found himself unable to focus on what first to show her, the end result of which had been a lot of doubling back and around town in an effort to give a tour.
But now it was time for the cathedral's dedication, and whatever else might be of interest in town, Tac only had eyes for the building he'd spent so long working on.
"There, see that buttress? I designed that! Well, all right, I didn't design it so much as I drafted it from the chief engineer's specifications. But still! I put it on paper, and then they built it--I helped with that, too, you know! Mortar's a bear to clean out of a tunic, but there's really nothing like putting your hands to work and making sure it's all just right. And then all of a sudden these chicken scratches and figures on paper are there! Holding up a whole wall!"
The young man's grin threatened to eat up his entire face, and it wasn't quite clear if he was actually breathing, as quickly as he spoke. Eventually, of course, he turned to see his cousin, and blushed.
"I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's just ... well, you know, the cathedral's been the only thing I've paid any attention to for so long. What do you think?"
The young man's grin threatened to eat up his entire face, and it wasn't quite clear if he was actually breathing, as quickly as he spoke. Eventually, of course, he turned to see his cousin, and blushed.
"I'm babbling, aren't I? I'm sorry. It's just ... well, you know, the cathedral's been the only thing I've paid any attention to for so long. What do you think?"
Elyra gave a little smile, trying to organize her thoughts. It was incredible to see her little cousin involved in this. In her travels she had always marveled at the ancient ruins and monuments of Varisia. They seemed to her like graffiti written on the landscape by ancient civilizations that refused to be forgotten, denying time the pleasure of erasing them by defiantly piling stone upon stone. This cathedral was a piece of that from her own generation, and her cousin's hands and mind had played a part in it. It was something grander than Elyra would ever do.
But, as always, she could not find words for the spirit. "It is very grand," she said awkwardly, "It is good that you are part of it."
As wondrous a sight as it is, the tawny-colored rough collie's attention isn't on the gleaming new Cathedral. He'd been present when its corner stone was laid and had since then spent enough idle hours around the site to be intimately familiar with the structure's every nook and cranny. It isn't even the bustling crowd of merrymakers that holds his attention captive. He personally knows or at least recognizes most of the locals; the rest are merely visitors who would be leaving following the end of the festival. No, the focus of the dog's attention are the bustling buffet tables. They represent a precious though fleeting commodity that the famished canine intends to benefit from before it's too late. He's particularly interested in the grilled and spiced haddock fillets carried fresh from the Rusty Dragon's kitchen, and so hovers near that end of the table.
The collie considers how to best net himself a fair portion without resorting to simply snatching it up and running for cover. Growing concerned with how quickly the merrymakers are filling their plates with his fish, the collie scans the nearby crowd for a familiar or sympathetic face; someone with a tender heart who might feed a kindly dog. Once sated the collie could then turn its attention towards catching some interesting conversations and general merrymaking.
OOC: Perception and Diplomacy +4, taking 10; looking to get fed.
Ameiko Kaijitsu, owner proprietor of the Rusty Dragon Inn and Tavern, spots the tawny collie hovering by the foodstuffs and, signaling with a low whistle, uses her private pet name to call the dog over. "Kell, over here, boy." Ignoring the protest of a butcher from the Hinterlands about to spear the fattended side of the haddock fillet that she sweeps from under the butcher's grasp onto a clean platter, Ameiko gently places the plate of steaming fish on the ground at the end of the buffet table. "Watch out, Kell, it's hot. And I mean that both ways, temperature and spice." Ameiko's hand stretches out to pet the collie but retracts halfway then returns to her hip, which she crooks. "Wish you'd let me pat that fur of yours. Or comb it. Don't you want an owner, Kell?"
With a sigh, Ameiko steps away from the platter of haddock and bows with a flourish to the collie, indicating that she will let him eat in peace.
Grokk stared at the cathedral, deeply admiring it, although he didn't show it on his stern face. It is beautiful. These people deserve it. I have seen death and despair and what it can do. They seem to have moved past it, but I'm glad the Sheriff is vigilant. Evil always returns and someone must be prepared for it.
The half-orc listened to the human gushing about the building. "It is fine work you have done," he said with a brief nod. Grokk helped himself to some food, mostly meat. Not ready to sit down, he stood, slowly eating his food and surveying the scene, trying to get a feel for the town, the people, and the mood.
It was funny, Talashia thought, how one change could seem so huge when it was cast against a familiar backdrop. She had aged a good six years since leaving the town. Sandpoint on the other hand hadn't aged a bit. There was only one thing that stood out against her memory, and that was the Cathedral. It stood where the old one had been, had similar lines in some ways, though was in all ways more...polished looking. The stone's cuts straight and even, the surfaces flat and smoth; unweathered. It looked out of place to Talashia.
It looked new.
After the speeches, when most of the crowd split up between the tables of food, Talashia went instead to that huge stone intruder in her town and walked first to the right, then to the left, halfway around it and back. The shrubs were grown in...probably just replanted mature ones. The trees however were just saplings, and would be for years to come.
What had happened? What was this 'late unpleasantness' and who or what was 'Chopper?'
These were the questions on her mind as she finally went to the end of one of the buffet tables to see what was left. Somewhere she was aware that none of this had anything to do with her 'real' reasons for being here, but the wizard's project wasn't going anywhere. It could wait for her to at least catch up with folk in her own home town.
As she pondered that, the sorceress eyed the fish...sparing a brief smile for the innkeeper feeding the dog on a plate. That was such a Sandpoint thing to do.
Success! The collie, Kell, starts to enthusiastically wag its long bushy tail in a dangerous sweeping arc when his friend Ameiko steps up to the table on his behalf. The tawny dog doesn't deign to answer the woman's question, but does lick her face in thanks and bows its head reciprocally after shying away from her reaching hand.
Savoring the taste of the spiced fish, the collie keeps one eye on its plate and the other on the bustling table; fearful that the rest of the food might disapear if it dawdles with its current piece. Kell catches sight of an unfamiliar young woman with strikingly white hair who seems to have some interest in him. Might she be gracious enough to supply him with his next piece? The collie furrows its brow as it looks up at her imploringly.
But, as always, she could not find words for the spirit. "It is very grand," she said awkwardly, "It is good that you are part of it."
Tac could tell Elyra was uncomfortable, but he was never good at telling why. It might have been the crowd, or being in a city when she preferred to be travelling, but as was his tendency, he assumed he'd imposed on her. When the half-orc nearby also spoke:
Quote:
Originally Posted by Merlin's Shadow
"It is fine work you have done," he said with a brief nod.
Well, then Tac was sure of it. He looked back and forth between his cousin and the stranger.
"Oh, gods, I was bragging. I didn't mean ... I just ... "
The young man bit his lip a moment, then closed his eyes and breathed in to slow himself.
"Thank you," he said to the half-orc. "But I really didn't do that much. I'm still just a journeyman. But I'm sure the guild appreciates every compliment they receive. I'm Tac, by the way. And this is my cousin, Elyra."
Here Tac's pride resurfaces. "She's an honest-to-goodness adventurer. She's been all over the place, fought off raiders and the like while I had my nose in books, right, El?"
True to expectation, Ameiko Kaijitsu's buffet table, unmistakable by the Rusty Dragon placard hung at the table's head, is by far and away the most crowded table within the church's square. Ameiko's exotic hairstyle, chosen specially for the festival no doubt, hangs from the top of her head in two thick braids coiled neatly into place. The hair of both braids has been died for the day in alternating orange, white, and gold strands. The effect, while over-the-top, lends itself well to the popular tavern-owner's face, accenting her almond-shaped eyes and delicate ears. Despite Ameiko's jest, her smile is wide for all her guests, and her welcome tone invites conversation.
Ameiko Kaijitsu's buffet isn't the only table laden with delicacies. Across the packed dirt courtyard in front of the glaringly new Cathedral rest a banquet of stalls, one of which boasts a long line of townsfolk waiting their turn for a two-penny pie stuffed with slivered eel. Servers bearing trays of apple chutney and flagons of wine serve patrons seated at bench-style tables; everyone seems to eat well past their fill. Ameiko herself eyes a merchant selling oranges, of all things, then--forgetting Kell for the moment--quickly strides over to the orange table with an audible harumph and begins to barter with the Korvosan merchant. "Such a distance you've traveled, surely these are spoilt by now? How much for this one with the bruise?" Ameiko points to a perfect golden-globed orange with nary a spot on it. The Korvosan vendor feigns indignance and the two begin to heatedly barter.
A town of nearly all humans, and certainly not a place known to offer comfortable harbor to those through whose veins courses non-Chelaxian blood, Sandpoint--on this day, at least--revels in the festival spirit. Free of the care lines normally creasing brow and nose, the Sandpoint locals enjoy unfettered feasting and merriment. Sivan, Talashia, and Grokk find themselves the beneficiaries of several friendly nods from the fishwives bustling about the market, their baskets filled not with the day's vegetables but with frivolities: ribbon, cheap children trinkets, bits of Korvosian lace, or small lengths of cloth bought at the open-air market.
Talashia recognizes Shayliss Vinder, the younger of a pair of daughters sired by Ven Vinder, Sandpoint's general store owner-proprietor. Like her older sister Katrine, Shayliss is the apple of her father's eye. Tall for her age and dark-haired like her Chelish-blooded mother Solsta, Shayliss has greatly changed in the years since Talashia last saw her atop her father's wagon while the shopkeep made his rounds through the Hinterlands buying bits of local farmers' harvest to be offered for sale in the general store. Though younger than Talashia by perhaps six or seven summers, Shayliss has filled out in the last years, becomingly so. The lass's dark hair falls free in heavy waves well past her slender shoulders. The cut of the girl's festival dress displays considerable decolletage, and the gold locket hanging low on her chest heightens the effect of her bosom. Shayliss smiles winsomly at Talashia. "Haven't see you in a long time." The girl eyes Sivan's ample chest and stammers. "I-I-I haven't seen him before. Oi!" Deep blue eyes flash up at Sivan.
Last edited by CanadienneBacon; 5th June 2009 at 09:46 PM..
Talashia gives the dog a knowing smirk as it gives her a wide-eyed canine stare.
"I just saw you wolf down that fish," she tells it teasingly. "You can't con me."
Even so, she glances at the table next to her and realizes...it's not HER food. Why not?
She's just selecting a juicy, dripping fatty cut of pork when Shayliss steps up and greets her. To Kell's frustration, she puts the meat back down onto the table and hastily wipes her hand.
"Hello!" Talashia greets with a smile as she desperately searches her memory for the girl's name. She seems familiar but...oh right! The shopkeep's daughter! For a moment she's taken aback by the girl's...development, which surpasses her slimmer frame's endowment despite their age difference. "Shayliss, yes, it's been quite a while! I almost didn't recognize you!"
She almost blurted something about whether or not she'd gotten pregnant, but managed to hold the words back. She'd promised her folks she'd behave, and she wanted to prove that she'd changed.
Fortunately, Shayliss' apparently transitory attention span shifted to the man behind her, freeing Talashia from the drudgery of aimless conversation. "Seen who? Oh, him."
Thwarted! Undeterred by the the white haired woman's momentary lapse in attention, the wily dog picks up his cleaned off plate in his mouth and gently noses the platter of fish on the table rather than the pork dish that she'd erroneously targeted. Seeing that the merchant's youngest daughter's distraction is seemingly at end, the tawny collie attempts to draw Talashia's attention back to its plight with mournful whimpering.
Here Tac's pride resurfaces. "She's an honest-to-goodness adventurer. She's been all over the place, fought off raiders and the like while I had my nose in books, right, El?"
Elyra smiles, embarrassed as she takes the half-orc's hand. "Not really an adventurer," she assures him. "I just like to travel."
Elyra smiles, embarrassed as she takes the half-orc's hand. "Not really an adventurer," she assures him. "I just like to travel."
Grokk squirms slightly, clearly uncomfortable, as the woman's hand grasps his. "Uhm...yes...uh, where have you been?" he asks awkwardly, pulling his hand away.
Last edited by Merlin's Shadow; 6th June 2009 at 04:07 AM..
Reason: Grammar.
Grokk squirms slightly, clearly uncomfortable, as the woman's hand grasps his. "Uhm...yes...uh, where have you been?" he asks awkwardly, pulling his hand away.
"Oh, here and there," said Elyra, a bit taken aback at the half-orc's response but trying not to let it show."This year I spent some time with a trade caravan up to the Nolands, trading for furs."
Talashia flicks her eyes to Shayliss, who has only eyes for Sivan. She glances furtively at Sivan, then on seeing herself momentarily unobserved, leans against the table in such a way as to knock the fish platter off onto the ground.
"Ahh! I'm so clumsy. How embarrassing," Talashia says quickly. "Oh well, there's plenty more where that came from, and there's no fear cleaning up after it all with the dog around."
"Oh, here and there," said Elyra, a bit taken aback at the half-orc's response but trying not to let it show."This year I spent some time with a trade caravan up to the Nolands, trading for furs."
"Mm," Grokk says, sensing the woman's discomfort, which only served to increase his own. Why did this get so awkward. Time to change the subject. "Uhm, quite a few people turned out for this event, eh?" he asked, not making eye-contact with either of the two humans. Continuing to munch on his food, he also scratched absently at his dark hair.
"Mm," Grokk says, sensing the woman's discomfort, which only served to increase his own. Why did this get so awkward. Time to change the subject. "Uhm, quite a few people turned out for this event, eh?" he asked, not making eye-contact with either of the two humans. Continuing to munch on his food, he also scratched absently at his dark hair.
Rather unfazed by the awkwardness, Tac looks at the throng. "Oh, absolutely. I don't think there was even half this many at the last Swallowtail! It's amazing, right? All these people here to see the cathedral ... which I am not bragging about, I'm just ... um."
Tac started questing about, trying to change the subject. "You know, I think this is where Talashia said she'd meet me after she got done visiting with her folks. Do either of you see her? White hair, so she should be easy to spot, I'd think...?"
Tac started questing about, trying to change the subject. "You know, I think this is where Talashia said she'd meet me after she got done visiting with her folks. Do either of you see her? White hair, so she should be easy to spot, I'd think...?"
Elyra looked around. Her keen eyes picked out a stunningly beautiful white-haired woman standing beside a table of food, speaking to another young woman. As the two were speaking, the white-haired woman knocked over a plate of food. "Is that her?" asked Elyra.
OOC: Elyra's got a high Perception, and Tal shouldn't be that hard to find.
Ameiko Kaijitsu, owner proprietor of the Rusty Dragon Inn and Tavern, spots the tawny collie hovering by the foodstuffs and, signaling with a low whistle, uses her private pet name to call the dog over. "Kell, over here, boy." Ignoring the protest of a butcher from the Hinterlands about to spear the fattended side of the haddock fillet that she sweeps from under the butcher's grasp onto a clean platter, Ameiko gently places the plate of steaming fish on the ground at the end of the buffet table. "Watch out, Kell, it's hot. And I mean that both ways, temperature and spice." Ameiko's hand stretches out to pet the collie but retracts halfway then returns to her hip, which she crooks. "Wish you'd let me pat that fur of yours. Or comb it. Don't you want an owner, Kell?" 
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