Kell observes a mother dressed a tad too crisply for the day shoo a curly haired toddler from a dropped piece of half-eaten curry-spiced salmon, also at Ameiko Kaijitsu's buffet--though two tables down. Suddenly aware of a veritable cornucopia of dropped luncheon items, Kell detects the scent of lobster chowder wafting from the Hagfish's table, and a peppercorn venison from the offerings of the White Deer Inn. Oddly, no other dogs or small vermin are in sight. Usually, the festival square would be a mecca of leavings for any animal within a two-mile radius.
The day flows forward, the sun warming the afternoon air with thick golden motes of light that soon enough resonate soupily at the day draws to a close. At the advent of evening, the day's stiff trade winds die down and the air becomes humid, hot with the perspiration of so many bodies in tight quarters. Just before sundown, Father Zantus returns to the wooden podium along with Mayor Deverin and Sheriff Hemlock for the official consecration of the new cathedral. A large covered wagon accompanied by a pair of robed acolytes is wheeled into the square.
After a toast and a quick thanks to the crowd who is by now in the early stages of drink with Ameiko's early winterdrop mead, Father Abstalar Zantus -- the Cathedral's replacement for the dead Father Tobyn -- takes the podium and delicately clears his throat. Even with nothing more than his appearance and quiet throat clearing at the podium, the crowd softens its jubilation in order to pay better attention to the lead priest. No one is entirely silent, but many raised mugs lower in respect and the tone sombers a touch. Father Zantus begins with thanks and a welcoming prayer, his arms raised to the heavens, before launching into a brief oratory that soon spellbinds the front of the crowd three or four tables deep.[sblock=Oratory] "We gather today to honor tradition, to give thanks for a bountiful harvest, for friendship and fellowship, but also to offer dedication for this wondrous new work of artisanship that stands behind me and which shall for all the years stand in silent testament to grace, the mending of broken spirits and hearts. How fitting, then, that we should all once again revel in a tale of old, a legend of Desna filled with the promise of hope and a life of love and dreams.
Now, aeons ago, ere even you were born, John Thomas," Father Zantus gestures in jest to a bent old man at the gathering--surely one of the oldest men in town, judging by the creature's jagged row of bones jutting through a thin shirt of linen along the old man's stooped spine--before continuing, "one of Desna’s avatars plummeted from the Heavens after a great battle with Lamashtu, Goddess of Monsters and Madness. The blind orphan Yrit nursed Desna's avatar back to health, and to thank the child, Desna transformed Yrit into an immortal butterfly. In this form, the child Yrit could forever fly in the day and night, seeing all the wonders of the world." [/sblock]
Father Zantus pauses and softly gestures to the wagon. At the priest's signal, the pair of acolytes grasp the loose canvas covering the wagon and shoulder the heavy material backward, releasing a cloud of swallowtail butterflies who immediately take to flight, filling the air with gossamer hues of blue, green, and black. The members of the crowd in the square who hadn't yet stilled themselves to listen to Father Zantus's oratory do so now, and the air becomes filled with reverance as the "children of Desna" float and waft on a light breeze. Eager for the Luck of Desna to come to them, small children (and even some grown men, hazy with mead), extend anticipatory arms skyward, hoping for a butterfly to light upon a finger.
Father Zantus opens his mouth to continue weaving the legend, but a sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, slices through the drowsy crowd as the sun's setting rays paint the western sky. A lone stray dog -- the only dog of the day, other than Kell -- that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep starts awake as a woman's scream slices through the air. A moment later, another scream rises, then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices rises--high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sound not quite human. The crowd parts and something low to the ground races by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gives a pained yelp and then collapses with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pools around the dog's head, the raucus sound of a strange song begins, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
[sblock=mfloyd3, Merlin's Shadow, jkason]
Elyra, Grokk, and Tac spot the shape racing by that killed the dog and recognize the beast as a goblin. The goblin now hides at the edge of the covered wagon--a single goblin, licking the blood from its dogslicer as it looks excitedly at the crowd, obviously seeking a new target. [/sblock]
Elyra, Grokk, and Tac made their Perception check and get an action for the surprise round.
Sorry, no love for Taran (despite a circumstance bonus), Talashia, or Sivan on the Perception check.
Initiative:
Taran 19
Grokk 18
Tac 16
Talashia 12
Elyra 6
Sivan 3
You are all within 30 feet of the covered wagon.
[sblock=Die rolls]In order to gain a measure of player trust and to verify that I'm correctly using the PF rules, I'm going to include die rolls for the first few sequences. After I'm satsified that we've reached equilibrium, so to speak, I'll cease revealing rolls--unless you specifically ask me to do so on a per circumstance basis.
Name Perception (DC 12), Initiative:
Ambrus 2, 17
Shayuri 5, 10
mfloyd3 10, 1
Merlin's Shadow 11, 19
jkason 12, 13
Walking Dad 10, 2[/sblock]