[Pathfinder] BrOp's Burnt Offerings IC Thread

[SBLOCK=SIVAN, VARISIAN PALADIN TO SHELYN]
You woke up changed this morning.

Opening your eyes, you looked around the room and saw a foreign, yet strangely familiar environment. You were lying in a small cot in a darkened room, the breathing of dozens of sleeping bodies around you.

You slowly got to your feet and noticed for the first time that you were clothed in only a simple, white loincloth. Padding barefoot toward the door, you pushed aside the heavy brocaded fabric to reveal a quiet town bathed in gobs of silver moonlight. Looking up at the moon you thought that2 it looked strange, somehow, not quite right. It seemed larger than you had ever seen it before, and made you feel slightly claustrophobic. The desire to reach up
and brush it away with your hand was almost overwhelming.

Tearing your eyes from the sky you focused on your immediate surroundings. This was a town quite different from the one you knew, with squat, single-story homes made from smooth bricks with rounded doors. Smoke from cooking fires rose from many of the structures, and looking past your immediate surroundings you noticed that you were in a vast sea of similar houses.

Before you had time to truly orient yourself and decide on what this all might mean, a shadow fell across you. Looking up you saw an immense humanoid shape blocking half the sky, its long, long arms reaching down to grab you.
As its barn-sized hands got closer you noticed a strange smell of brimstone and earth momentarily before being swallowed in its mighty grasp.

With a shock you woke again, this time for real. Looking about you saw that you were in a simple bed in the guest house of the new cathedral in Sandpoint. The sun was just creeping over the horizon. It was the day of the dedication, the day that you had been preparing for. You struggled to remember the dream you had just woken from, but it was fading, already being pushed aside by the many tasks ahead for you.

Your first job should be to track down the Varisian artist Chaine. You left him last night still putting the finishing touches on one of the smaller murals of the chapel dedicated to your patron goddess. He had said that he had received new inspiration from Shelyn and wanted to put it down before it left him. You hoped he was finished.

The dedication of the new cathedral is this afternoon, and you are the only representative of your faith in this small burg. If things go poorly it will not reflect well upon the chosen of the Eternal Rose.[/SBLOCK]


[SBLOCK=MELLISANDE, GNOME SORCERER]
"They finally get it!"

The world has never made complete sense to you. Sure, you understand that trees grow out of the ground, that birds can fly, that goblins are maniacal, homicidal and craven but somehow ... you think it should be different. Why does rain have to fall down, why can't it fall up? Why can't a person get up in the morning and decide how many eyes she wants to have? She should be able to, but she can't; at least not most of the time.

Every time you have tried to talk to someone about this you get strange looks. You get such strange looks that you decided long ago not to tell anyone else about it, to just keep it to yourself. It still bothers you, though. It bothers you that people just don't seem to get it. Well, that they didn't get it until a few weeks ago.

It was on a lovely Rova afternoon that you were taking a long walk through the Ravenroost forest for no good reason. You had had enough of the people of Sandpoint for the day telling you where to go, what to do and how to dress. You just wanted to get away from all the nagging for a few hours, and the nearby Ravenroost seemed the perfect place to do that.

Rounding a corner of the game trail you came across a disturbing scene. Two human men were bent over the body of a dying doe which they seemed to have just brought down with crossbows. Now technically hunting is legal in the Ravenroost, but you knew these two hooligans were up to no good. They were bent over the deer which lay on its side, stabbing it repeatedly with their daggers.

Infuriated with their cruelty you rushed forward, slamming hard into the taller of the two men. Your momentum caused you both to tumble to the ground, and the hunter was quickly on top of you. As his hands wrapped around your small neck something strange happened. It felt as if your head was splitting open and all of your thoughts, hopes, desires, and dreams came spilling out, engulfing your assailant in a bright green glow.

Jerking back he stumbled to his feet with a dazed and slightly bemused expression on his face. He looked as if he were trying to formulate a thought that wasn't quite coalescing in his mind. "But, but, but," he mumbled and then started to laugh uncontrollably. His companion looked on in horror, thinking that his friend had lost his mind and quickly scampered off into the underbrush. You looked into the laughing man's eyes and suddenly realized that somehow you had made him understand. You had made him see things through your eyes, and obviously his human brain could not handle it. Still a bit shocked by what had happened you ran off back to Sandpoint.

Most gnomes have a connection to the arcane, have the ability to conjure minor glamers and tricks, but you have never heard of anyone with your talent. Where does it come from? Why did it appear so suddenly?

Needing answers, you woke up this morning and decided to visit the only other gnome in Sandpoint, Veznutt Parooh. He is an elderly historian who runs an overflowing library known as The Way North, located next door to the White Deer Inn by the North Gate.[/SBLOCK]

[sblock=ARAHMID, HALF-ORC ... ORPHAN]You've been walking around hungry and in a panic today.

Yesterday was like many others before it. You had spent the day casing a few of the better establishments of Sandpoint. There was Marver Kesk's jeweler's shop on Church Street near the new cathedral. Even though he hired enough local rough "talent" to stand around and scare away the casual thieves, you had noticed that he had a habit of leaving the front door unlocked when he headed out. You'd even seen his wife Pennae berate him about this very subject as she dragged him out of the White Deer late at night. You had also had gotten a few ideas regarding an alchemist's shop on Raven Street called Bottled Solutions. Nisk Tander's wares would not be easy to fence, but you were sure that they would fetch a decent price.

In the evening you headed for your favorite place in town, Fatman's Feedbag on Shark Alley by the docks. Sure it isn't as pretty as the White Deer, and the food isn't as good as in the Rusty Dragon, but it attracts more of your kind of crowd and the beer was cheap. Although bar fights are common in the Feedbag, the owner Gressel Tenniwar, an enormous bear of a man, ends them quickly.

You staggered your way to the flophouse on Whisker street and paid the curmudgeonly Varisian owner a few coppers for a pallet and blanket. Thanks to a few of the watery ales you could even fall sleep despite the snoring of the sailors and dockworkers all around you.

This morning you woke up and immediately noticed two things. The first and most distressing, or so you thought, was that you had obviously been robbed during the night. Your money pouch was missing although all of your belongings and equipment were still on hand. Secondly, and this is what really got to you, you found a single copper penny lying on your chest with both sides defaced. You'd seen this before, it was a token from the Sczarni, an organization of Varisian robbers, murderers and smugglers found up and down the Lost Coast. They gave them to folk in order to scare them off, to warn them that this was their territory, and that competition would not be tolerated. Quickly gathering your belongings, you headed out into the day.

Today all of the Varisians you pass on the street seem to have a sinister air about them, to be staring at you when your back was turned. You know that not all of them can be criminals, but you just can't shake the feeling that you are no longer welcome in Sandpoint.

Lucky for you, today is the celebration of the Swallowtail Festival, an annual fall celebration of the goddess Desna. Vendors have been setting up their stalls and passing out free food and drink to the townsfolk. There are even supposed to be speeches (not very exciting) and perhaps fireworks along with more free food. You may not have any money, but at least your belly will not go empty today.

Now you just have to figure out what your next step will be. Stay in Sandpoint and take your chances with the Sczarni, or tuck your tail between your legs and head back to Magnimar, or even worse, Korvosa. But without money, how would you get there? Questions like these are beginning to pile up, and you don't like the answers that are presenting themselves.[/sblock]

[SBLOCK=SAKTOUK, HALF-ORC FOLLOWER OF IRORI]You have begun to worry that you are loosing your mind.

Sandpoint has not been an easy place to be. First there was the way that everyone looked at your with disdain in their eyes. The only other half-orc in town with any visibility was Gorvi, a heavily tattooed lummox who was the village's trash collector. You had gotten so used to the friendships of the other devotees of Windsong Abbey, that you had forgotten how cruel the rest of the world could be. The children here would point and laught, and even throw stones from time to time when they knew you wouldn't catch them. Adults would not speak to you unless they absolutely had to, so put off were they by your mixed heritage.

As if how people treated you wasn't bad enough, you have recently started having trouble with your temper again. It took years of focus and meditation at the Abbey to bring your natural orc temperament under control, to resist the urge to simply bully and force your way through any obstacle, whether physical or spiritual. Yet within a week of arriving in Sandpoint, you could feel your temper begin to flare up again at the slightest provocation. At first you thought that this was due to your new, inhospitable surroundings, that you were simply out of your element. You longed to go back to Windsong, to try and convince the elders that they had made a mistake sending you out, but then thought better of it.

Just as you were about to leave town and try to make your way to Magnimar you came across a small house on the ill-named backstreet called Rat Alley. It was long for its size and made of sturdy stone (unlike most of the houses in the village), but what caught you attention was the construction of the front door. It had a round lintel and a single door knob placed in the center resembling the head of a tiger. You had seen designs such as these in the Vudrani training manuals the monks had used to teach you of Irori.

Cautiously you knocked and the door was soon answered by a young Vudrani woman in simple clothes similar to your own. Seeing your similar attire she spoke a few words in Vudran, a quizzical look on her face. Realizing that you did not understand her, she switched into the Common tongue, "Are you a follower of the Master of Masters?"[/SBLOCK]

OOC THREAD

ROGUE'S GALLERY THREAD

INFORMATION THREAD

Sivan washes himself and watches his body in a mirror. While he had been often wounded, all his wounds healed wihout scaring, a small boon bestowed by his goddess. Only clothed in a bit linecloth, he goes through his training exercises with his glaive, that also doubles as his morning meditations.
After a bath, using only a trace amount of rose oil, he dons his polished armor and decorates his glaive with feathers in all colors of the rainbow. This, his armor and weapon, that shows everyone his dedication to Shelyn, will he wear at this important day. It is his duty to perform all his works with the approtiate grace.
On his way out, he greets the other priests and starts his search for Chaine (and maybe something to eat).

Mellisande & The Gnome Sage

(OOC - Not sure if you want sblocks on these. Let me know if so, and I'll add 'em in.)

It was a bright, shiny day outside reflected Mellisande as she embarked on the first leg of her journey to find Veznutt Parooh. The kind of day a raven or crow would like to grab in horrible gnarled talons and weave into a nest. One might think the epic tale of this particular adventure would be a bit foreshortened by the fact that she'd actually stayed in the common room of the inn that was immediately adjacent to the library where Parooh normally could be found.

One would be wrong.

She'd gotten halfway there when the scent of fine breads from the bakery caught her sensitive gnome gnose, and sent her scampering down the street with rapid pattering footsteps to see about some breakfast. And of course, there was a merchant cart of stained, blown glass trinkets that kept her busy for awhile, even if she couldn't afford any of it...much to the merchant's consternation. Then she had to go to the harbor to steal some fish guts from where the fishermen cleaned their catches, so she could feed the cats that had nested over in a secluded cul de sac between the smithy and his house. The she-cat was about to have kittens, and it was important she have food. Mellisande let the feline lick her fingers clean, then gave her a kiss on the top of her head and realized the morning was getting on and she still hadn't seen the sage!

The gnome swung past the temple to quickly wash her fishy hands in the holy water bowl when no one was watching...then onward to the library...and destiny!

Saktouk, half-orc monk

Saktouk stuttered a moment, thinking. Finally he said, [color=[COLOR="Green"]"I follow Irori, master of the self. Which, I suppose, is the master of all."[/COLOR]

He pauses then, unsure of himself (which seems to be his response to everything since coming to Sandpoint). He hopes his natural curiosity hasn't brought him to yet more trouble. He needs no more obstacles while in town.

Arahmid, Half-orc Rogue

Arahmid started the day in a bad mood and with good reason. He thought he had been careful in Sandpoint but the Sczarni had found him out. His first thought was to give a good beating to the first Varisian who happened to cross his way. But no, that was just a stupid idea born out of anger. Arahmid calmed down by slowly sharpening his weapons. While soothing, it didn't help with the decision making. What should he do ? Walking around the town didn't help either as he couldn't shake the feeling that every Varisians he met were out to get him. Damn the humans and their endless scheming ! Couldn't they just leave him alone ? Sometimes Arahmid wishes he was back in Belkzen where things were at least simplier. But then he remembers the beatings ...

There was just no easy answers ... He would have liked to confront the Sczarni but where could he go for that and what were his chances ? He could leave but without any money he wouldn't get very far. Besides, he would just get tangled up in another plot of some organization. In the end, Arahmid decided that he would first attend the festivities and see what he could do after that. He would just have to deal with things as they come up. For now, Arahmid headed back to Fatman's to wait for the start of the celebration. He just hoped Gressel was willing to let him keep a tab.

Sivan

Sivan makes his way to the western wing of the cathedral which houses the shrines dedicated to Shelyn and Gozreh. Through stained-glass windows he looks out past the Old Light to the sea beyond. It is a clear day, the first of the autumnal season, and the waves of the Varisian Gulf seem calm and measured.

Opening the small gate to the shrine of his patron goddess, Sivan notices his friend Chaine asleep on a stool, his painter's pallet still held in his left hand. The mural he has been working on looks finished, which is a good thing since the cathedral is being dedicated today and it would reflect badly upon the goddess and her faithful if her shrine were incomplete.

The paladin studies his friend's exceptional work, which depicts a pair of young lovers holding hands as they walk through a wood with Shelyn watching on approvingly. Stepping closer to the mural, Sivan studies the faces of the lovers which Chaine has depicted with breathtaking realism. Instead of the blissful innocence of young love, however, the holy warrior finds that the face of the boy is filled with unbridled lust and that the young girl's face is turned away in fear and apprehension. Such a depiction goes against all of the tenets of Shelyn's faith, she being a deity of true love and beauty, and in such a place borders on heresy.

Sensing his presence, Chaine slowly wakens from his slumber, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "Well, my friend, it look me nearly all night but I finished it! I hope Father Zantus does not mind dedicating a cathedral whose paint has yet to dry." Noticing the look on the paladin's face, Chaine's expression darkens with concern, "What is it? What is wrong?"

Mellisande

Mellisande exits the cathedral after washing her hands, only to find that the square is filling with people. Over two dozen different merchants, taverns, and peddlers are setting up stands and stalls decorated with flags of many colors, bright ribbons and fine cloth. Directly in front of the church's main entrance, carpenters are putting the finishing touches on a speaker's platform while the town tailor and his assistant bring in the bunting which will be hung from it.

A few yards away a young boy hands out handbills to the gathering townsfolk, advertising a new production at the Sandpoint Theater. In a different section, Rynshinn Povalli, the half-elven proprietess of Verna's Fine Clothing has set up a table where she hands out beautifully tailored sashes decorated with cloth butterflies. Next to her, Ameiko Kaijitsu, the Minkai owner of Sandpoint's oldest tavern, the Rusty Dragon, is setting up a stall. The smell of her famous curried salmon is already wafting about the square.

Just as she is about to get completely sidetracked by all the preparations for the Swallowtail Festival, Mellisande spots Veznutt Parooh coming down Church Street, deep in a heated argument with his best friend Ilsoari Gandethus, the headmaster of Turandarok Academy.

Saktouk

The Vudrani woman nods and folds her hands in front of her in the manner of a greeting of her people. "May the peace of the Master be with you, brother. You are welcome to come in and meditate, or do you seek something else?" She turns her head to the side as if listening to a far off voice and waits for your answer.

Sivan & Chaine, Cathedral

"Look at the faces, you have painted!" Sivan says angry, using his willpower not to shout in this holy place and alerting others to this desaster. "Are you a follower of Shelyn? This looks more like an obscene picture of the Calistria cult. Hurry, perhaps you can still save it!"

Sivan

A look of genuine confusion on his face, Chaine turns toward the wall mural to see what the paladin is talking about. "By the gods!" he shouts, clamping his hands over his mouth to keep himself from yelling any more. Now severely panicked he takes a few deep breathes in order to get himself under control.

"I swear to you, Sivan, this is not what I painted," his voice a tightly controlled whisper. "I mean, I guess I painted it because I recognize my own work, but I tell you that I did not paint it! When I fell asleep last night, it did not look like this. I don't know what happened to me." At this he breaks down and begins to sob quietly, covering his face with his arms in shame.