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Soanso's Fireside Chat: Rise of the Runelords (AE)
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<blockquote data-quote="soanso" data-source="post: 6148167" data-attributes="member: 6684655"><p><strong>Swallowtail Festival Part 1</strong></p><p></p><p>[Hope I'm doing this correctly; if not please help!]</p><p></p><p>The journey is long; we shall shorten the road.</p><p> </p><p>These past few weeks have seen the town of Sandpoint slowly fill to capacity. The Swallowtail Festival is close, as is the dedication of the new cathedral. Shaiira and I are camped at the edge of town, conserving our meager funds by batting eyelashes and laughing bubbly laughs at the local taverns for food and drink; I’ve earned some meager coin with stories of the Giants of Storval, a fictitious tale of a brave girl who tracks down the brutes that destroyed her village. Shaiira and I have spent most of our free time wandering Sandpoint and taking in its subtle grace. We like to sit and watch the crowds, rub elbows with the travelers and the sellswords, and trade yarns with our fellow travelers. We’ve met several sympathetic sorts who’ve given us a meal or an ale along the way; may Desna keep them.</p><p></p><p>Shaiira first pointed out the dwarf. We had been treated to a few rounds in the late afternoon after a wonderful caterwaul with the midday drunks at Cracktooth’s, and merrily made our way through the streets back to camp when she noticed him leaving the Sage. We giggled as the well-armed and armored man stormed out of her quarters and loudly questioned the Sage’s competence. He headed back to the Rusty Dragon as fast as his dwarven legs could propel him. Shaiira took a slight fancy to the situation, and tailed him enough to reveal his name was Mundin, and was in town by way of Magnimar. Bellhops are such easy marks.</p><p> </p><p>While Shaiira followed the dwarf, I decided to check out the new cathedral. Though it’s consecration wasn’t for a few days, the apse was open for public viewing a few hours each evening. I also needed to ground myself; playing happy-go-lucky with my heavy heart was taxing. We came across some information that has erased my confidence concerning Mum’s life in Sandpoint. But that is another yarn. </p><p> </p><p>The apse was a splendid affair, giving a small shrine to the many gods therein. A light crowd strolled through as casual observers, but I was caught up when a bald Vudrani man entered the apse, obviously awestruck by the gravitas of its holiness. He carried a staff, and I could just make out some armor under his robes. It was his calm aura that drew my eyes to him, much as one is drawn to a painting or sculpture; a sense of calm followed him as he walked. He stopped at each altar and bent as if in prayer to each god represented.</p><p> </p><p>He was… interesting. Grandy Vin held the Vudrani in high regard. He was calm and stoic, as I would expect a man of faith to be, but he wore no trapping of any local clergy. I followed him long enough to “accidentally” lose an earring near the Dedication to Erastil. He handed me my bauble, and simply said, “May the winds bring you peace.” If I had to guess, he was Gozrehn. They tend to be calm storms, weird dichotomies of peace and destruction. But they tend to be outliers and not fond of civilized affairs like this cathedral. Although, there are also devout souls who find favor without a patron; but such clerics are rare…</p><p> </p><p>Shaiira and I have spent some time in various shops and halls poring over old maps and documents; seems to be a mutual interest. We are looking for Mum. We received some disheartening information and our research is part of the corroboration. I’ve embroidered a few new glyphs on Shaiira’s scarf, and added a runic sister to my own.</p><p> </p><p>There is one particularly dusty and unkempt place in Sandpoint that few know of- lucky for me, I hit the right note at Cracktooth’s and a whiskey-riddled old timer passed it on to me. We weren’t there for an hour when the doorbell chimed and a very tall, scarred and tattooed man entered. He was dressed in silks of bright gold and deep orange; I recognized several Varisian symbols tattooed on his forearm, notably a butterfly stylized with lightning bolts in its wings. His dark hair had hints of auburn. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorcerer,” whispered Shaiira, following my gaze.</p><p>“How so?” I whispered back.</p><p>“Scars, dagger sheath is brand-new, no armor, silks, VIP treatment in a hole-in-the-wall library. Duh.” She sidled a smirk my way. Sha is funny like that.</p><p> </p><p>He is either a Varisian or is close to one. He was tall and thin, and covered by burns and tattoos. He moved with a natural grace, though, as if he were the type unfettered by pain, or obstacle. He was also very friendly with the librarians, and they ushered him to the lower levels after a brief conversation. He did not emerge from the bowels of the library for some time; as our search for Mum’s path again stalled, we decided to tent out a few more nights. I’d work the crowds at the upcoming festival to scrape a few coins together and Shaiira would do her best to work a few favors at the Feedbag for vittles. I hope to soon be resting properly at Cracktooth’s. They seemed to fancy having ladies at the bar to entertain patrons with stories and to join in at cards, dice, and darts. Sha’s already made a few marks; Mum would be proud.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="soanso, post: 6148167, member: 6684655"] [b]Swallowtail Festival Part 1[/b] [Hope I'm doing this correctly; if not please help!] The journey is long; we shall shorten the road. These past few weeks have seen the town of Sandpoint slowly fill to capacity. The Swallowtail Festival is close, as is the dedication of the new cathedral. Shaiira and I are camped at the edge of town, conserving our meager funds by batting eyelashes and laughing bubbly laughs at the local taverns for food and drink; I’ve earned some meager coin with stories of the Giants of Storval, a fictitious tale of a brave girl who tracks down the brutes that destroyed her village. Shaiira and I have spent most of our free time wandering Sandpoint and taking in its subtle grace. We like to sit and watch the crowds, rub elbows with the travelers and the sellswords, and trade yarns with our fellow travelers. We’ve met several sympathetic sorts who’ve given us a meal or an ale along the way; may Desna keep them. Shaiira first pointed out the dwarf. We had been treated to a few rounds in the late afternoon after a wonderful caterwaul with the midday drunks at Cracktooth’s, and merrily made our way through the streets back to camp when she noticed him leaving the Sage. We giggled as the well-armed and armored man stormed out of her quarters and loudly questioned the Sage’s competence. He headed back to the Rusty Dragon as fast as his dwarven legs could propel him. Shaiira took a slight fancy to the situation, and tailed him enough to reveal his name was Mundin, and was in town by way of Magnimar. Bellhops are such easy marks. While Shaiira followed the dwarf, I decided to check out the new cathedral. Though it’s consecration wasn’t for a few days, the apse was open for public viewing a few hours each evening. I also needed to ground myself; playing happy-go-lucky with my heavy heart was taxing. We came across some information that has erased my confidence concerning Mum’s life in Sandpoint. But that is another yarn. The apse was a splendid affair, giving a small shrine to the many gods therein. A light crowd strolled through as casual observers, but I was caught up when a bald Vudrani man entered the apse, obviously awestruck by the gravitas of its holiness. He carried a staff, and I could just make out some armor under his robes. It was his calm aura that drew my eyes to him, much as one is drawn to a painting or sculpture; a sense of calm followed him as he walked. He stopped at each altar and bent as if in prayer to each god represented. He was… interesting. Grandy Vin held the Vudrani in high regard. He was calm and stoic, as I would expect a man of faith to be, but he wore no trapping of any local clergy. I followed him long enough to “accidentally” lose an earring near the Dedication to Erastil. He handed me my bauble, and simply said, “May the winds bring you peace.” If I had to guess, he was Gozrehn. They tend to be calm storms, weird dichotomies of peace and destruction. But they tend to be outliers and not fond of civilized affairs like this cathedral. Although, there are also devout souls who find favor without a patron; but such clerics are rare… Shaiira and I have spent some time in various shops and halls poring over old maps and documents; seems to be a mutual interest. We are looking for Mum. We received some disheartening information and our research is part of the corroboration. I’ve embroidered a few new glyphs on Shaiira’s scarf, and added a runic sister to my own. There is one particularly dusty and unkempt place in Sandpoint that few know of- lucky for me, I hit the right note at Cracktooth’s and a whiskey-riddled old timer passed it on to me. We weren’t there for an hour when the doorbell chimed and a very tall, scarred and tattooed man entered. He was dressed in silks of bright gold and deep orange; I recognized several Varisian symbols tattooed on his forearm, notably a butterfly stylized with lightning bolts in its wings. His dark hair had hints of auburn. “Sorcerer,” whispered Shaiira, following my gaze. “How so?” I whispered back. “Scars, dagger sheath is brand-new, no armor, silks, VIP treatment in a hole-in-the-wall library. Duh.” She sidled a smirk my way. Sha is funny like that. He is either a Varisian or is close to one. He was tall and thin, and covered by burns and tattoos. He moved with a natural grace, though, as if he were the type unfettered by pain, or obstacle. He was also very friendly with the librarians, and they ushered him to the lower levels after a brief conversation. He did not emerge from the bowels of the library for some time; as our search for Mum’s path again stalled, we decided to tent out a few more nights. I’d work the crowds at the upcoming festival to scrape a few coins together and Shaiira would do her best to work a few favors at the Feedbag for vittles. I hope to soon be resting properly at Cracktooth’s. They seemed to fancy having ladies at the bar to entertain patrons with stories and to join in at cards, dice, and darts. Sha’s already made a few marks; Mum would be proud. [/QUOTE]
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