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(Cydra) The Year 271 Campaign (Low Magic experiment)
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<blockquote data-quote="the Jester" data-source="post: 2394240" data-attributes="member: 1210"><p>Hey Spider, glad to have you aboard! <img src="data:image/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP///yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7" class="smilie smilie--sprite smilie--sprite8" alt=":D" title="Big grin :D" loading="lazy" data-shortname=":D" /></p><p></p><p>Here is the next update and the next few pcs:</p><p></p><p>The night before the festival begins is a busy one for Cara Reed. She is very excited; tomorrow she will have a chance to show off both her talent as a musician and her beauty as a young lady. She plays extensively in both the Fat Mallard and the Honest Man, honing her skills on the disparate crowds at the two competing establishments. In both places, business is slow tonight; people are saving their energy for the following several days. This year’s festival promises to be a good one, for the harvest was good this year. The two will ever go hand-in-hand; on years with a poor harvest, the festival is always more subdued, less festive and more aimed at the lesson of sacrifice. </p><p></p><p>Cara sighs as she plays the Fat Mallard, her music crowded by the drunken shouts of the lord’s son. But his squire is buying him drinks at the start of the evening; it is not long before they must call it a night. Cara herself, with half of her audience vanishing, finishes her last number for the night and heads outside. </p><p></p><p>The stars are brilliant diamonds overhead, and Cara stops to take a deep breath. The smells of autumn are on the wind- hay and pollen and a <em>ripeness</em> that has no other word. Smiling, she walks back to her home, where she lives with her mother and her siblings. As she leaves the Mallard behind, so she leaves the river and the only bridge across it. The Fat Mallard and the general store flank the bridge on this side of the river; on the other side, their places are taken by the church of Belthizar, currently decked in husks of corn, and the Boatwright home. The town sprawls out on either side of the river, its one hundred and thirty-nine people content in their village existence.</p><p></p><p>Cara glances at the watch tower as she enters her own home. Atop it she can see the silhouette of the local self-declared watchman, Jorgen. She quirks half a smile. He means well. As she carefully washes herself down, scrubbing her makeup off, she sighs to herself. Tomorrow she will begin to make her name as an entertainer! Between her wide-ranging knowledge, her good looks and her sweet voice and delicate lute-playing, she should make quite an impression!</p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>In the predawn light of very early morning, about two miles east by southeast of town following the curve of the Roaring River, a strange figure loads her donkey with gear, food and fodder. Her clothing is a mishmash of different bits of fur and leather. </p><p></p><p><em>If I’m going to go to the festival,</em> the strange woman thinks, <em>I’d best get an early start. Two miles could take a couple of hours! And who knows what bandits or goblins might lay in wait along my way.</em></p><p></p><p>Carefully, the woman balances the saddlebags on her donkey. Clucking her tongue, she takes his lead and starts walking upriver towards the town. Towards the festival! She wonders what strange entertainers or bizarre merchants will be there. Maybe she’ll even get a chance to meet the Weird Ladies! <em>They sometimes go to festival- I’ve seen them there before,</em> Dahlia thinks. She does not notice the dirt on her hands or the leaves that have fallen in her long tangled hair. She chuckles to herself as she leads her faithful beast of burden along. <em>Whoever is there this time,</em> she thinks, <em>I’m sure there will be good fun to be had! There are always strangers, and it seems like there’s always some kind of excitement!</em> She smiles as she remembers the year that a couple of the town boys tried to steal some honey from a beehive. Ooh, there was a lesson there, yes there was!</p><p></p><p>Humming and singing to herself in the tongue of the vanished elves, Dahlia heads to the town. When she arrives, most of the merchants are set up and a few early risers are already there, staring at the displays set up. Bryan, the town boatwright, aided by his son Bryan, has a display of miniature and toy boats (prices range from 5 sp to 3 gp each). Amanda Garden has a brilliant display of flowers and herbs. She is selling bundles of either for 4 cp, and sprigs of wolfsbane for 1 sp each. She has one of the Garden servants with her, doubtless in case there is any trouble with the Cookers. The owner of the general store, Mingus Menhure, has a booth set up with a sampling of various goods, hoping to sell stuff. “If I don’t have it here, ask me!” he booms. “I’ve hired one of the Miller daughters to run back to my shop as required over the festival!” Brackburn Smith has horseshoes, a breastplate, plows, shovels, picks, hammers and other tools, a longsword, nails, a pair of shields, a pair of metal gauntlets, spoons and knives* and other, similar items. He has two of his sons with him in case he needs to run off or send an errand boy somewhere. Bevin Tanner has a number of furs, hides and skins on display, including a wolf fur cloak (with the head over the wearer’s head) (1 gp), a fabulous, thick rug of winter wolf fur (20 gp), several suits of leather armor, one suit of studded leather armor and a variety of other, similar things. Ovina, the local priestess of Belthizar, is ready to talk to or counsel anyone. Lane and Johnson Cooker are there selling food- roasted goat, goat sandwich, stewed goat, goat on a stick, goat cheese, etc. Several of the bully-boys the Cookers tend to hire when they need a little muscle are standing around unobtrusively as well. Both Brandon Mallard and Jimmy Goodman, the proprietors of the town’s two competing taverns, have come to sell food, beer and wine. </p><p></p><p>There are two more areas of great interest. One is a medium-sized tent set up with a barrel out front. The barrel has a fire crackling within it- but a <em>green</em> fire! Dahlia gapes. She has never seen the likes of this before, that’s for sure!</p><p></p><p>On the other end is a large, roped off area with a sign. Several young red-haired halfling women are working on constructing some sort of large frame, shaped something like a triangular wedge. Dahlia scratches her head. She has no idea what that thing is for. </p><p></p><p>***</p><p></p><p>“Halflings!” Jorgen swears aloud to himself. “Thieves! I must keep a careful eye on them!” Already the festival has thrown him a challenge- if he’s not careful, the halflings are likely to take anything that isn’t nailed down!</p><p></p><p>It’s hard to watch the whole festival by himself, but by the gods, he’s going to do his best!</p><p></p><p><em><strong>Next Time:</strong></em> The first day of the festival! Let’s talk to the halflings a little! Cedric needs a drink! </p><p></p><p></p><p>*The Year 271 Campaign does not use forks. Knives skewer food, spoons work for soups or liquids. Forks are broken.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="the Jester, post: 2394240, member: 1210"] Hey Spider, glad to have you aboard! :D Here is the next update and the next few pcs: The night before the festival begins is a busy one for Cara Reed. She is very excited; tomorrow she will have a chance to show off both her talent as a musician and her beauty as a young lady. She plays extensively in both the Fat Mallard and the Honest Man, honing her skills on the disparate crowds at the two competing establishments. In both places, business is slow tonight; people are saving their energy for the following several days. This year’s festival promises to be a good one, for the harvest was good this year. The two will ever go hand-in-hand; on years with a poor harvest, the festival is always more subdued, less festive and more aimed at the lesson of sacrifice. Cara sighs as she plays the Fat Mallard, her music crowded by the drunken shouts of the lord’s son. But his squire is buying him drinks at the start of the evening; it is not long before they must call it a night. Cara herself, with half of her audience vanishing, finishes her last number for the night and heads outside. The stars are brilliant diamonds overhead, and Cara stops to take a deep breath. The smells of autumn are on the wind- hay and pollen and a [i]ripeness[/i] that has no other word. Smiling, she walks back to her home, where she lives with her mother and her siblings. As she leaves the Mallard behind, so she leaves the river and the only bridge across it. The Fat Mallard and the general store flank the bridge on this side of the river; on the other side, their places are taken by the church of Belthizar, currently decked in husks of corn, and the Boatwright home. The town sprawls out on either side of the river, its one hundred and thirty-nine people content in their village existence. Cara glances at the watch tower as she enters her own home. Atop it she can see the silhouette of the local self-declared watchman, Jorgen. She quirks half a smile. He means well. As she carefully washes herself down, scrubbing her makeup off, she sighs to herself. Tomorrow she will begin to make her name as an entertainer! Between her wide-ranging knowledge, her good looks and her sweet voice and delicate lute-playing, she should make quite an impression! *** In the predawn light of very early morning, about two miles east by southeast of town following the curve of the Roaring River, a strange figure loads her donkey with gear, food and fodder. Her clothing is a mishmash of different bits of fur and leather. [i]If I’m going to go to the festival,[/i] the strange woman thinks, [i]I’d best get an early start. Two miles could take a couple of hours! And who knows what bandits or goblins might lay in wait along my way.[/i] Carefully, the woman balances the saddlebags on her donkey. Clucking her tongue, she takes his lead and starts walking upriver towards the town. Towards the festival! She wonders what strange entertainers or bizarre merchants will be there. Maybe she’ll even get a chance to meet the Weird Ladies! [i]They sometimes go to festival- I’ve seen them there before,[/i] Dahlia thinks. She does not notice the dirt on her hands or the leaves that have fallen in her long tangled hair. She chuckles to herself as she leads her faithful beast of burden along. [i]Whoever is there this time,[/i] she thinks, [i]I’m sure there will be good fun to be had! There are always strangers, and it seems like there’s always some kind of excitement![/i] She smiles as she remembers the year that a couple of the town boys tried to steal some honey from a beehive. Ooh, there was a lesson there, yes there was! Humming and singing to herself in the tongue of the vanished elves, Dahlia heads to the town. When she arrives, most of the merchants are set up and a few early risers are already there, staring at the displays set up. Bryan, the town boatwright, aided by his son Bryan, has a display of miniature and toy boats (prices range from 5 sp to 3 gp each). Amanda Garden has a brilliant display of flowers and herbs. She is selling bundles of either for 4 cp, and sprigs of wolfsbane for 1 sp each. She has one of the Garden servants with her, doubtless in case there is any trouble with the Cookers. The owner of the general store, Mingus Menhure, has a booth set up with a sampling of various goods, hoping to sell stuff. “If I don’t have it here, ask me!” he booms. “I’ve hired one of the Miller daughters to run back to my shop as required over the festival!” Brackburn Smith has horseshoes, a breastplate, plows, shovels, picks, hammers and other tools, a longsword, nails, a pair of shields, a pair of metal gauntlets, spoons and knives* and other, similar items. He has two of his sons with him in case he needs to run off or send an errand boy somewhere. Bevin Tanner has a number of furs, hides and skins on display, including a wolf fur cloak (with the head over the wearer’s head) (1 gp), a fabulous, thick rug of winter wolf fur (20 gp), several suits of leather armor, one suit of studded leather armor and a variety of other, similar things. Ovina, the local priestess of Belthizar, is ready to talk to or counsel anyone. Lane and Johnson Cooker are there selling food- roasted goat, goat sandwich, stewed goat, goat on a stick, goat cheese, etc. Several of the bully-boys the Cookers tend to hire when they need a little muscle are standing around unobtrusively as well. Both Brandon Mallard and Jimmy Goodman, the proprietors of the town’s two competing taverns, have come to sell food, beer and wine. There are two more areas of great interest. One is a medium-sized tent set up with a barrel out front. The barrel has a fire crackling within it- but a [i]green[/i] fire! Dahlia gapes. She has never seen the likes of this before, that’s for sure! On the other end is a large, roped off area with a sign. Several young red-haired halfling women are working on constructing some sort of large frame, shaped something like a triangular wedge. Dahlia scratches her head. She has no idea what that thing is for. *** “Halflings!” Jorgen swears aloud to himself. “Thieves! I must keep a careful eye on them!” Already the festival has thrown him a challenge- if he’s not careful, the halflings are likely to take anything that isn’t nailed down! It’s hard to watch the whole festival by himself, but by the gods, he’s going to do his best! [i][b]Next Time:[/b][/i][b][/b] The first day of the festival! Let’s talk to the halflings a little! Cedric needs a drink! *The Year 271 Campaign does not use forks. Knives skewer food, spoons work for soups or liquids. Forks are broken. [/QUOTE]
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