Obi-Andy's Pathfinder Chronicles: Chapter 1 - Burnt Offerings

It’s the first day of autumn, and a light breeze off the gulf has blown away the remnants of last night’s rain. Today is a perfect day for a festival, and a festival is exactly what the town of Sandpoint is going to have.

By mid-morning it has gotten warmer, and most of the town’s citizenry is gathered in a cobbled plaza that is headed by the impressive facade of the town’s cathedral. Set up near the doors of the beautiful stone structure is a wooden stage with a podium that is to be used for the speeches that will soon kick off the festival. Long tables in rows with benches fill the area around the stage, indicating the spot to be when feasting begins!

Pennants and streamers dress up the rooftops and faces of the surrounding shops, most of which are open for business. The doors of the White Deer Inn up the road stand open and a steady column of smoke from the house’s kitchens trails up into the sky. The smell of the roasts the inn is providing for the community feast mingles in the breeze with a dozen other savory smells coming from merchant’s tents and vending carts. The plaza is becoming increasingly filled with people and a babble of voices – locals, travelers, farmers in town for the day with their families, and merchants both local and exotic. Music can be heard from a dozen sources around the square and up the street in the direction of the inn.

[All of you happen to be seated at the same table, happily feasting upon the baskets of bread and fruits that have been laid out. Carry on with intros...]

A young woman sits at the table, smiling as she snacks on the free bread. She is dressed lightly for the occasion, wearing sandals, wool pants, and a white tank top. Her arms are quite muscular, and overall she seems to be very fit. However, her face is slightly flushed; likely due to the two empty flagons of ale in front of her. And although she has been laughing at the jokes told so far, she hasn't said much of anything herself.

Redbeard

A large red-bearded man sits near the woman, his flabby frame nearly occupying two chairs. The man is red in the face, and sweating. Whether this is from the man's unathletic body type or the speed that he is shoveling the food from the plate in front of him into his mouth is unknown. A large dog sits behind the man's chair, head on it's paws. It looks up the man every once in a while and the man throws down a small piece of fruit and the dog quickly swallows the morsel whole. The man tries making conversation with those around him. "I'd never miss out on a feast like this, I wish I could take a turn in the kitchen though!"

Lali

The faint smell of day old swamp reaches over the delicious perfume of baked bread. The source of the smell seems to be the small goblin seated at your table tearing into a large apple like it has not fed in weeks.

Upon closer inspection, you notice that the feral cloaked figure at your table is not a goblin, but in fact the dirtiest halfling you have ever seen who just happens to be wearing a goblin. At least it is matching with the goblin ears worn around its neck.

As the wild figure buries itself into another red apple you observe the very definition of the words "mangy, flea-bitten mongrel" laying at its apparent masters feet.

"Azgak uth.." the halfling stops mid-sentence remembering who she is with, "Water. Give." she asks of the young woman, motioning towards a jug of water at the table before taking another huge chunk out of the apple while reaching for another.

Korbok

Korbok passes the water to the halfling. "Gorak kime," the dwarf says a traditional goblin toast for good health (well, actually, more of a wish that the current drink hasn't been poisoned by a jealous rival, but the sentiment is about the same).

Korbok Anvileyes appears in many ways to be a typical dwarf: squat, bearded, and ruddy, but the laugh lines around his eyes and vertical crease between his brows speak of levity and intelligence that perhaps seem contrary to the dour, business-like stereotypical dwarf. He wears simple but sturdy robes, somewhat like those of a scholar, but no scholar's robes ever seemed so faded by exposure to the elements.

"This promises to be quite the day, eh? What luck to have arrived the evening before a festival!"

It takes a second for the muscular woman's eyes to focus on the figure speaking to her. When they do, her expression changes to something resembling shock... but after deciding she wasn't seeing things (I'm not that drunk yet.), she reaches for the water jug. She begins smiling again as she does so, having half a mind to douse the filth with the contents of the jug. Before she has the chance however, the dwarf grabs the water for her.

[sblock=ooc]I'm still trying to decide whether I want Cecilia's thoughts to be visible. After all, the point of her being mute is that she has a hard time communicating. I think for now, I'll settle on not directly showing her thoughts, but describing her motivations if someone might be able to figure them out from her expression - like with a low sense motive check. The exception will be if it's just a joke, and doesn't really affect anything, like the drunk comment in this post.[/sblock]

Maximilian

The pale man seated near the head of the table tightens his thin lips at the "goblin's" request, and with a bit of disdain pushes his wire glasses up the bridge of his nose. His features were strong, obviously Chelish of near pure stock with the characteristics dark hair and fair eyes. He seemed to share their distaste for dirt---not a speck of it sullied the man's well made clothes. He had not touched the food other than some water.

Glancing at the others seated, the man focused on the dwarf who had just spoken. "Ah, the festival. Must be something of local interest---no such celebrations were planned in Magnimar when I left. Anyone perchance know more?"

OOC: Kn (history/local) checks if needed to figure out what is what.

stonegod said:

Glancing at the others seated, the man focused on the dwarf who had just spoken. "Ah, the festival. Must be something of local interest---no such celebrations were planned in Magnimar when I left. Anyone perchance know more?"

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The dwarf nods. "A good question. By the by, I am Korbok Anvileye, late of Janderhoff and the Shriikirri-Qua. Noticing that the road always seems to extend over the horizon, I've been traveling quite some time now until arriving at this delightful breakfast."

[sblock=OOC Stuff]

stonegod said:

OOC: Kn (history/local) checks if needed to figure out what is what.

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OOC: Good idea! Korbok's sitting on Knowledge (local) +7 and, regarding anything discernible about the strange halfling, Knowledge (nature) +7. Since I'm in a helpful mood, here's a couple of die rolls: First result: Knowledge (local); second result: Knowledge (nature). (1d20+7=19, 1d20+7=21).[/sblock]

Redbeard

"Gorak kime,"
"A good question. By the by, I am Korbok Anvileye, late of Janderhoff and the Shriikirri-Qua.

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Redbeard holds out a rasberry stained meaty hand out to the dwarf. Upon stretching around to offer his hand, several crumbs fall from his unkempt beard and land in his lap. "Ye may be callin' me Redbeard. I be from just outside o' town, though I be recently back after spendin' time away."

EvolutionKB said:

Redbeard holds out a rasberry stained meaty hand out to the dwarf. Upon stretching around to offer his hand, several crumbs fall from his unkempt beard and land in his lap. "Ye may be callin' me Redbeard. I be from just outside o' town, though I be recently back after spendin' time away."

Click to expand...

Korbok grips the offered hand firmly and without apparent regard for its lack of cleanliness. After releasing Redbeard's hand, the dwarf nonchalantly wipes his own hand on a cloth while saying, "Good day to you, Redbeard. You say you were 'spendin' time away.' If your story of your away time is entertaining or edifying, perhaps you could share it with us."