In the sleepy coastal town of Sandpoint, evil is brewing. An attack by crazed goblins reveals the shadows of a forgotten past returning to threaten the town—and perhaps all of Varisia. Millennia ago, the powerful empire of Thassilon ruled the land, dominated by despotic runelords who maintained their power through harnessing the power of rune magic. Thought gone forever, the workings of Thassilon are not so far beneath the surface and one of the runelords plans a return to power. Only the brave adventurers stand in his way. Can the Rise of the Runelords be stopped?
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Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
In the middle of the night, Lonjiku Kaijitsu, the owner of the Glassworks and a prominent member of the Sandpoint community summons his wife up to the back porch of their cliffside manor for a late conversation. When she responds to his summons, still half-asleep, Lonjiku grabs her, his face contorted in an expression of rage, and tosses her down to her death on the jagged rocks below. To all but Lonjiku, her death was recorded as a tragic accident.
In the middle of the night, the Sandpoint guards have finally caught the trail of the Chopper, a serial killer that has become the terror of the town. Over the last month, 25 individuals have been horrifically murdered, with deep cuts in their necks and torsos, hands and feet cut off and stacked near the bodies, and eyes and tongues crudely removed from their sockets. The Chopper's skill at evading traps and pursuit had frustrated the Sheriff of Sandpoint to the point where he turned to the bottle, however this did not stop him from catching the Chopper in the act of mutilating the body of a recently murdered victim. Unfortunately, the Sheriff ended up becoming the final victim of the Chopper, but in his final moments, the Sheriff managed to get a strike off on the killer. Noticing the trail of blood that followed the Chopper, a young Belor Hemlock followed it to the home of Jervis Stoot, a reclusive but well-loved artisan that lived on an island north of the town. Hemlock and the guards did not want to believe the implication that the artisan had been the terror of the town, instead fearing that he was the 26th victim of this terrible killer. But when they arrived at Stoot's home, they found 25 sets of tongues and eyes that could only come from the Chopper's victims. To add to the horror, the Sandpoint guards found these foul trophies on an altar to a demon lord they dared not name, obviously as some foul offering. Also at the altar was the body of Stoot, his tongue and eyes removed, obviously choosing to make himself the final offering to his dark lord over facing the gallows in Magnimar. Horrified, the guards burned down Stoot's house, and destroyed the trail. As for Stoot himself, his body was burned and his ashes were blessed and scattered into the sea in an attempt to put this horror behind them.
One month later, a young aasimar woman drags the pulpit up to the door of the room in the local cathedral that serves as her adopted father's bedroom. She braces it against the door so that it makes opening it impossible. Shortly afterwards, the woman drops a torch in the church and a fire begins to consume the building. She departs as it grows into a conflagration, leaving the old priest to die trapped in his room. The townspeople attempt to put out the fire and potentially save the church, but it is already beyond saving as the fire spreads to the local stables, an inn, and three local homes. Fortunately, all of those buildings had already been vacated, but the same could not be said for the church, as the well-respected priest had perished in the fire and it was feared that his adopted daughter had too.
These three events would go down in Sandpoint's history as the Late Unpleasantness, a period of several months in which Sandpoint was struck by increasingly horrifying yet unconnected tragedies. Or at least, unconnected as far as anyone in Sandpoint would know. Because in the time leading up to the Late Unpleasantness, a font of magical energy that had long been dormant was suddenly activated, sending a shockwave of energy that took root in the hearts of those who were harboring wrathful feelings in Sandpoint. While the Sandpoint would ultimately move beyond the Late Unpleasantness, it was ultimately only a harbinger of more to come, as an ancient power has been awakened after 10,000 years of dormancy.
Rise of the Runelords Book One: Burnt Offerings
Present-4707 AR
All of you are arriving in Sandpoint in time for the Swallowtail Festival, which traditionally starts at the beginning of the autumnal equinox. This year's festival is particularly special, as it coincides with the completion of the town's new cathedral. The square before the church quickly becomes crowded as locals and travelers arrive, and several merchant tents featuring food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs are there to meet them.
The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers each deliver short but well-received welcomes to the festival. Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to town and jokes about how even Larz Rovanky, the local tanner (and notorious workaholic) managed to tear himself away from the tannery to attend, much to everyone’s amusement (except Larz’s). Sheriff Belor Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church several years ago. The next speaker is Sandpoint’s own showman Cyrdak Drokkus is more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes. He delivers a not-completely-irreverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral. He throws in a bit of selfpromotion at the end, as is his wont, inviting everyone to stop by the Sandpoint Theater the following evening to check out his new production of “The Harpy’s Curse,” revealing that the lead role of Avisera the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda! Finally, Father Zantus steps up to give a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
As the festival begins, numerous games and contests begin to take off, such as sack races, games of hide-and-seek, weight-lifting challenges, balance beam contests, tug-of-war events, and the like.
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Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
Standing at roughly 5'4", a young, slim, dark skinned, moon elf is hovering near the festival games, her violet eyes watching the festivities curiously. She seems particularly interested in a current game of darts, head tilted slightly to one side to allow her loosely tied, long, white hair and patterned witch hat to frame her face. Occasionally she takes a deep breath and rubs the strap of a large satchel bag that hangs across her shoulder, ruffling her sleeved black corset dress adorned with various moon and star shaped pins and, upon further inspection, a few light scorch marks. She seems to be keeping herself out of the way as much as possible, clearly a bit overwhelmed but otherwise enjoying her surroundings as she watches the current darts contestant with a smile.
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Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
High in the mountains, there is a village. In that village, there is a woman born of the mountains and a man from another World. In their arms, there is a little girl who is far smaller than she should be.
High in the mountains, there is a village. In that village, there are two graves with many-colored feathers scattered atop them. Hovering above the feathers is a girl with wings she should not have.
High in the mountains, there is a village. In that village, a shaman sits in a hut. Before the shaman, a snakelike tattoo forms, wrapping around the wrist of a girl who feels a pull she should not feel.
A pull to leave. Daughter of two worlds, child of wind, slayer of titans, forger of legends, hunter of horrors. All things I have been, or will be, called.
The echo of the forge and the song of battle sings through my veins. But I am no barbarian, no brute seeking only violence. I'm looking for a good story.
Or rather, making one.
Hovering at the darts booth is an extremely peculiar looking person. Not even two and a half feet tall, the woman with the tanned skin and brown hair of the northern Shoanti tribes is suspended in midair by a pair of beating, brown-feathered wings. She wears tough, black traveling clothes that leave both her arms bare, displaying the impressive (and not that old) burn scars wrapping around her left arm and trailing into a snakelike tattoo that wraps around her left wrist. At her side dangles a shortsword sized perfectly to her, and a (relatively) large bag hangs from her back, a few clanking noises coming from it every now and then as she changes elevation.
Briskly brushing her chin-length hair out of her grey eyes, the woman flits up to the person running the darts. "I would like to compete." Her gaze is intent on the game, eyes fiercely examining it as if she thinks she can glare it into submission...which may or may not (depending on the disposition of those present) be a little comical, given that she's smaller than a toddler.
Towering over at least some at well over six feet tall is a dark skinned man of perhaps Garundi descent, and looking rather torn between where last Father Zantus had been spotted and the rest of the festivities. He perhaps stood out all the more armored in a sleeveless chain mail and matching coif(down for the moment) as he was, but bearing no insignia of a guard. Rather between the purple emblem shaped as a wiry butterfly on the shield at his back, and the silver constellations woven into otherwise darker traveling clothes spoke of leanings to worship, if not ties to the goddess Desna. Though in place of a starknife, a rounded, double-headed warhammer laid harnessed at his side.
After adjusting his own travel backpack and wiping the sweat from his bald plate of a head, warm dark eyes settle upon the oddest thing seen thus far to him: a winged shaonti woman with "little" shortswords at her sides. At first thinking it to be the sun getting to him, Zelvo squints, rubbed at warm, dark eyes ignoring the discomfort his leather vambrace, and then squinted again at her, before finally seeming to accept reality. At which point he smirked, glanced over to the tug of war events elsewhere, then too curious for his own good, decided to stride up for a better observation point. His business with the temple could wait a little longer...
"Do the eyes of a hawk bless you as surely as its wings?"He asked on curiously, but kept his eyes on the targets across the way.
The whinny of the horses and shudder of the wagon signaled arrival at Sandpoint. Stepping down from the wagon into the light of a festival in full swing, Kraig takes a few deep breaths, counting down from 10 before releasing, trying to blow away images of crushed bodies and burning scaffolds. "Breath ye' panicked numpty. Nah giants aroun this sandy playce." The dwarven man pulls a small flask from inside the folds of his traveling cloak, and drains it of the acrid, syrupy liquid inside.
Eventually wandering in sight of the darts display, you see a 4'7" man, all lean, willowy muscle with what was once a scrawny academic's frame. His warm, russet face looks haggard, a man whose lost too much sleep to ever fully catch up to, a bundle of wiry black hair streaked with premature silver pulled into a loose bun atop his head stands in some contrast to his perfectly kept beard, pulled into a singular braid, short enough to bely a relatively younger man. several gold rings bounce and reflect the festival lights on his ears as he moves. Kraig adjusts his pack, resulting in a rattle as the arrows and unstrung bow shake in their quiver. Draped beneath and over his frame, a finely sewn traveling cloak is pinned together with a brooch that bears the mark of the Twilight Academy. Beneath it, shiny, undamaged rows of metal scaled armor, which clink softly as he steps over to put his back to the wooden side of an adjacent stand close enough to get a good view of the darts game. His eyes dart around, tracking his surroundings for a brief moment, stopping himself with another meditative breath, muttering to himself. His attention returns to the fairy woman and mountainous man, intrigued to see what happens next.
Rashimi: "Of course! Take these and try to hit the bullseye. If your arm is anything like your eye, you shouldn't have any problem with that." The attendant hands you five normal darts. Make 5 ranged attacks to see how you fare.
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Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
Come what may of the results, Zelvo rambunctiously claps for the performance and lets out cheer! "'eeeyyy! Not bad! Not bad at all! You're certainly a better shot then most highwaymen tend to be."He adds and start to reach out to pat her on the shoulder, but just manages to catch himself land instead rub his head. Finally noting the witch hat wearing moon elf after, he startled for just a moment, before then cracking a wiry smile and crossing his arms. "Well, well, well! I half-expected the festival to draw in quite a bit of different folks, but somehow I never expected to see an elf as well! Desna has truly blessed me this day." He said with a hand at his chest and eyes briefly closed in a smile.
He then frowns a little, before saying in a more apologetic tone, "You seemed a bit stress though. Is there yet something I may help you with, m'lady? My name is Zelvo, by the way. Zelvo Zezmogr."
Nina looks between Rashimi and Zelvo for a moment, his words pulling her attention away from the fairy. But, not before she gives a playfully amused comment to Rashimi. "I've seen you do better. But overall, not bad. Perhaps because the darts are a bit bigger than yours?" Upon processing Zelvo's comment, she gives him a curious tilt of her head but a friendly smile, adjusting her bag as she shifts her weight between heel to foot. "Oh! Um... Not really. Just a bit overwhelmed. The festival is quite nice! Just very... mentally stimulating." She pauses for a moment, giving another look between Rashimi, Zelvo, and the new arrival a distance away before seeming to catch herself on a thought, quickly extending her hand as an introduction to Zelvo. "Apologies! You said your name was Zelvo. I'm Nina. Nina Wildvale. Host of The Wayward Collective. Pleasure for us to make your acquaintance." As Nina waits for a possible reciprocation of hand shake, she gives a glance to Rashimi, decisively leaving her introduction up to her.
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Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Rashimi's fifth dart falls short of the target. Her first and third darts end up in the white. Her second and fourth darts hit the yellow, but they don't quite land in the bullseye.
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Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
Rashimi looks quite pleased by her results. "Not bad. But I could be better." She tilts through the air towards where Zelvo and Nina are talking. "I'm aiming higher than most highwaymen," she says with a smirk as she hovers just above Nina's head, the position bringing her mostly eye-level with the massive man. "Rashimi Wind-Forger of the Tamiir-Quah." Her head whips around to suddenly fasten her gaze onto the dwarf who's so far been watching them quietly. "What about you?"
Kraig startles with Rashimi's eyes on him, shocked out of the calculations of her dart throwing precision. "Oh!, uh..aye, M' name is Kraig Bronzeaxe, yeh throh darts like a right proper warrior, rashimi was it?" his words come out in a thick dwarvish brogue. Kraig steps over to the group of strangers, eyes darting around the crowd nervously, "I agree with yer witchy compatriot. I came out tuh Sandpoint t' git away from crowds o' people."
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Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
"I am a right proper warrior." Rashimi grins. "Nice to meet you two," she says to Zelvo and Kraig. "I think all lowlander towns are crowded as a mountain stream during breeding season. But maybe there's somewhere out of the big square where there are a bit fewer people?" she suggests, glancing with Nina with her brow tenting slightly.
Nina keeps her hand extended to Zelvo but tilts her head, studying the Dwarf thoughtfully for a moment as she glances back to Rashimi before clearing her throat. "A less crowded place would be ideal, yes. I think, if I understand correctly, that most people will be here at the festival." She pauses for a moment before fixing her gaze back on the Dwarf, eyes seeming to hover over his brooch before her demeanor seems to shift to one of slight awkwardness. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well Kraig. Pardon my curiousity, but were you a student?" She gives a slight addressing nod to his brooch as she offers her other hand to shake Kraig's.
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Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Kraig looks down at his brooch in confusion before nodding with sudden understanding. He takes the sorceress’ hand in both of his. They are rough and cracked, as if they’d been tested against the stone and earth of the depths. “Aye, in th’ Archaeology department. I’m uh..” the dwarf’s face cracks in a wince, his hands tense in sync, “On sabbatical righ na, the numpties they call students cannae handle muh training regimen.” Kraig, realizing his almost vice grip on Nina’s hand releases quickly, “apologies, lass, cannae we get to where the drinks be flowing? I’m running a bit parched.”
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Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
Nina considers Kraig's response for a moment, giving her fingers a simple wiggle once free from his grip. After a brief pause she offers him an awkward smile laced with some realization. "Oh! I haven't been to the archeology department. Not really my cup of tea. I'm more into history of arcana. Although, recently I've been more focused on proper arcane manipulation and utilization." She pauses for another moment, before giving a slight shrug, her demeanor one of slight sheepishness. "The academy sent me out on practical field learning so I'd stop blowing up their practice halls. Quite a small world, huh?" There is another brief pause before she clears her throat, speaking quickly to cut through any awkward hesitation her statement may have caused. "Anyway! I could do drinks. Drinks would be nice. How about you two?" She turns her attention to Rashimi and Zelvo, giving them each an awkward smile.
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Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
At Nina’s confession of arcane explosions, the dwarf gives a hearty laugh, “Ye sound like a riot, Nina! Not like most o’ the stuffed shirts I deal with.” He turns to the other two, “Eh? Drinks are on me, iffin that’s what’s holdin ye back.”
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Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
"I usually get asked where my parents are when I go somewhere with alcohol," Rashimi replies to Kraig, looking mildly disgruntled. Which may be a fair question on a few bartender's parts, given that the nineteen-year-old looks significantly younger with her small size, at least until she turns her full, intense attention on you. "But I'll come along! Worst case scenario, I get to challenge someone to a duel," she adds, brightening slightly at that prospect.
Admittedly, Zelvo seemed to become lost in thought pondering and rubbing his chin in thought. Occasionally he could be heard murmuring 'Collective' and 'amiir-Quah, but with little more context than that on where his thoughts appeared to have run away to while Kraig is drawn into things. But eventually, some part of his brain finally picked up Nina's extended hand as he would give her a firm handshake.
Yet even still, his other hand carried on absently rubbing his chin. "... Duel? Drink? I-I'm sorry, what?" Zelvo asks, finally returning to the present. "Kinda got lost in my head a little bit there. But, uh-"Noting Kraig at last, Zevlo startles just a little. "Oh! Hello, my, uh, Mr. Bronze? I heard a bronze I think earlier, and I assume it is reference to you. And if not, my sincerest apologies."He then looks to the ladies with a sheepish grin. "But if what I heard about drinks are to be a thing, I would certainly find amicable as well. A couple, at least."
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When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
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In the sleepy coastal town of Sandpoint, evil is brewing. An attack by crazed goblins reveals the shadows of a forgotten past returning to threaten the town—and perhaps all of Varisia. Millennia ago, the powerful empire of Thassilon ruled the land, dominated by despotic runelords who maintained their power through harnessing the power of rune magic. Thought gone forever, the workings of Thassilon are not so far beneath the surface and one of the runelords plans a return to power. Only the brave adventurers stand in his way. Can the Rise of the Runelords be stopped?
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Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
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4702 AR-Five Years Ago
In the middle of the night, Lonjiku Kaijitsu, the owner of the Glassworks and a prominent member of the Sandpoint community summons his wife up to the back porch of their cliffside manor for a late conversation. When she responds to his summons, still half-asleep, Lonjiku grabs her, his face contorted in an expression of rage, and tosses her down to her death on the jagged rocks below. To all but Lonjiku, her death was recorded as a tragic accident.
In the middle of the night, the Sandpoint guards have finally caught the trail of the Chopper, a serial killer that has become the terror of the town. Over the last month, 25 individuals have been horrifically murdered, with deep cuts in their necks and torsos, hands and feet cut off and stacked near the bodies, and eyes and tongues crudely removed from their sockets. The Chopper's skill at evading traps and pursuit had frustrated the Sheriff of Sandpoint to the point where he turned to the bottle, however this did not stop him from catching the Chopper in the act of mutilating the body of a recently murdered victim. Unfortunately, the Sheriff ended up becoming the final victim of the Chopper, but in his final moments, the Sheriff managed to get a strike off on the killer. Noticing the trail of blood that followed the Chopper, a young Belor Hemlock followed it to the home of Jervis Stoot, a reclusive but well-loved artisan that lived on an island north of the town. Hemlock and the guards did not want to believe the implication that the artisan had been the terror of the town, instead fearing that he was the 26th victim of this terrible killer. But when they arrived at Stoot's home, they found 25 sets of tongues and eyes that could only come from the Chopper's victims. To add to the horror, the Sandpoint guards found these foul trophies on an altar to a demon lord they dared not name, obviously as some foul offering. Also at the altar was the body of Stoot, his tongue and eyes removed, obviously choosing to make himself the final offering to his dark lord over facing the gallows in Magnimar. Horrified, the guards burned down Stoot's house, and destroyed the trail. As for Stoot himself, his body was burned and his ashes were blessed and scattered into the sea in an attempt to put this horror behind them.
One month later, a young aasimar woman drags the pulpit up to the door of the room in the local cathedral that serves as her adopted father's bedroom. She braces it against the door so that it makes opening it impossible. Shortly afterwards, the woman drops a torch in the church and a fire begins to consume the building. She departs as it grows into a conflagration, leaving the old priest to die trapped in his room. The townspeople attempt to put out the fire and potentially save the church, but it is already beyond saving as the fire spreads to the local stables, an inn, and three local homes. Fortunately, all of those buildings had already been vacated, but the same could not be said for the church, as the well-respected priest had perished in the fire and it was feared that his adopted daughter had too.
These three events would go down in Sandpoint's history as the Late Unpleasantness, a period of several months in which Sandpoint was struck by increasingly horrifying yet unconnected tragedies. Or at least, unconnected as far as anyone in Sandpoint would know. Because in the time leading up to the Late Unpleasantness, a font of magical energy that had long been dormant was suddenly activated, sending a shockwave of energy that took root in the hearts of those who were harboring wrathful feelings in Sandpoint. While the Sandpoint would ultimately move beyond the Late Unpleasantness, it was ultimately only a harbinger of more to come, as an ancient power has been awakened after 10,000 years of dormancy.
Rise of the Runelords Book One: Burnt Offerings
Present-4707 AR
All of you are arriving in Sandpoint in time for the Swallowtail Festival, which traditionally starts at the beginning of the autumnal equinox. This year's festival is particularly special, as it coincides with the completion of the town's new cathedral. The square before the church quickly becomes crowded as locals and travelers arrive, and several merchant tents featuring food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs are there to meet them.
The turnout for the opening speeches is quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers each deliver short but well-received welcomes to the festival. Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement prove contagious as she welcomes visitors to town and jokes about how even Larz Rovanky, the local tanner (and notorious workaholic) managed to tear himself away from the tannery to attend, much to everyone’s amusement (except Larz’s). Sheriff Belor Hemlock brings the crowd down a bit with his dour mood, his reminder to be safe around the evening’s bonfire, and his request for a moment of silence to remember those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town’s previous church several years ago. The next speaker is Sandpoint’s own showman Cyrdak Drokkus is more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes. He delivers a not-completely-irreverent recap of the long process the town went through to finance and construct the new cathedral. He throws in a bit of selfpromotion at the end, as is his wont, inviting everyone to stop by the Sandpoint Theater the following evening to check out his new production of “The Harpy’s Curse,” revealing that the lead role of Avisera the harpy queen will be played by none other than the famous Magnimarian diva Allishanda! Finally, Father Zantus steps up to give a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
As the festival begins, numerous games and contests begin to take off, such as sack races, games of hide-and-seek, weight-lifting challenges, balance beam contests, tug-of-war events, and the like.
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
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Standing at roughly 5'4", a young, slim, dark skinned, moon elf is hovering near the festival games, her violet eyes watching the festivities curiously. She seems particularly interested in a current game of darts, head tilted slightly to one side to allow her loosely tied, long, white hair and patterned witch hat to frame her face. Occasionally she takes a deep breath and rubs the strap of a large satchel bag that hangs across her shoulder, ruffling her sleeved black corset dress adorned with various moon and star shaped pins and, upon further inspection, a few light scorch marks. She seems to be keeping herself out of the way as much as possible, clearly a bit overwhelmed but otherwise enjoying her surroundings as she watches the current darts contestant with a smile.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
High in the mountains, there is a village.
In that village, there is a woman born of the mountains and a man from another World.
In their arms, there is a little girl who is far smaller than she should be.
High in the mountains, there is a village.
In that village, there are two graves with many-colored feathers scattered atop them.
Hovering above the feathers is a girl with wings she should not have.
High in the mountains, there is a village.
In that village, a shaman sits in a hut.
Before the shaman, a snakelike tattoo forms, wrapping around the wrist of a girl who feels a pull she should not feel.
A pull to leave.
Daughter of two worlds, child of wind, slayer of titans, forger of legends, hunter of horrors.
All things I have been, or will be, called.
The echo of the forge and the song of battle sings through my veins.
But I am no barbarian, no brute seeking only violence.
I'm looking for a good story.
Or rather, making one.
Hovering at the darts booth is an extremely peculiar looking person. Not even two and a half feet tall, the woman with the tanned skin and brown hair of the northern Shoanti tribes is suspended in midair by a pair of beating, brown-feathered wings. She wears tough, black traveling clothes that leave both her arms bare, displaying the impressive (and not that old) burn scars wrapping around her left arm and trailing into a snakelike tattoo that wraps around her left wrist. At her side dangles a shortsword sized perfectly to her, and a (relatively) large bag hangs from her back, a few clanking noises coming from it every now and then as she changes elevation.
Briskly brushing her chin-length hair out of her grey eyes, the woman flits up to the person running the darts. "I would like to compete." Her gaze is intent on the game, eyes fiercely examining it as if she thinks she can glare it into submission...which may or may not (depending on the disposition of those present) be a little comical, given that she's smaller than a toddler.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Towering over at least some at well over six feet tall is a dark skinned man of perhaps Garundi descent, and looking rather torn between where last Father Zantus had been spotted and the rest of the festivities. He perhaps stood out all the more armored in a sleeveless chain mail and matching coif(down for the moment) as he was, but bearing no insignia of a guard. Rather between the purple emblem shaped as a wiry butterfly on the shield at his back, and the silver constellations woven into otherwise darker traveling clothes spoke of leanings to worship, if not ties to the goddess Desna. Though in place of a starknife, a rounded, double-headed warhammer laid harnessed at his side.
After adjusting his own travel backpack and wiping the sweat from his bald plate of a head, warm dark eyes settle upon the oddest thing seen thus far to him: a winged shaonti woman with "little" shortswords at her sides. At first thinking it to be the sun getting to him, Zelvo squints, rubbed at warm, dark eyes ignoring the discomfort his leather vambrace, and then squinted again at her, before finally seeming to accept reality. At which point he smirked, glanced over to the tug of war events elsewhere, then too curious for his own good, decided to stride up for a better observation point. His business with the temple could wait a little longer...
"Do the eyes of a hawk bless you as surely as its wings?" He asked on curiously, but kept his eyes on the targets across the way.
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
The whinny of the horses and shudder of the wagon signaled arrival at Sandpoint. Stepping down from the wagon into the light of a festival in full swing, Kraig takes a few deep breaths, counting down from 10 before releasing, trying to blow away images of crushed bodies and burning scaffolds. "Breath ye' panicked numpty. Nah giants aroun this sandy playce." The dwarven man pulls a small flask from inside the folds of his traveling cloak, and drains it of the acrid, syrupy liquid inside.
Eventually wandering in sight of the darts display, you see a 4'7" man, all lean, willowy muscle with what was once a scrawny academic's frame. His warm, russet face looks haggard, a man whose lost too much sleep to ever fully catch up to, a bundle of wiry black hair streaked with premature silver pulled into a loose bun atop his head stands in some contrast to his perfectly kept beard, pulled into a singular braid, short enough to bely a relatively younger man. several gold rings bounce and reflect the festival lights on his ears as he moves.
Kraig adjusts his pack, resulting in a rattle as the arrows and unstrung bow shake in their quiver. Draped beneath and over his frame, a finely sewn traveling cloak is pinned together with a brooch that bears the mark of the Twilight Academy. Beneath it, shiny, undamaged rows of metal scaled armor, which clink softly as he steps over to put his back to the wooden side of an adjacent stand close enough to get a good view of the darts game.
His eyes dart around, tracking his surroundings for a brief moment, stopping himself with another meditative breath, muttering to himself. His attention returns to the fairy woman and mountainous man, intrigued to see what happens next.
Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress
Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
Rashimi: "Of course! Take these and try to hit the bullseye. If your arm is anything like your eye, you shouldn't have any problem with that." The attendant hands you five normal darts. Make 5 ranged attacks to see how you fare.
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
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Rashimi gives everyone a wink. "Let's find out!" She hefts the darts, each a little comically oversized for her tiny form, and starts throwing!
Ok dice, please behave:
Dart 1: 12
Dart 2: 23
Dart 3: 25
Dart 4: 24
Dart 5: 10
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Come what may of the results, Zelvo rambunctiously claps for the performance and lets out cheer! "'eeeyyy! Not bad! Not bad at all! You're certainly a better shot then most highwaymen tend to be." He adds and start to reach out to pat her on the shoulder, but just manages to catch himself land instead rub his head. Finally noting the witch hat wearing moon elf after, he startled for just a moment, before then cracking a wiry smile and crossing his arms. "Well, well, well! I half-expected the festival to draw in quite a bit of different folks, but somehow I never expected to see an elf as well! Desna has truly blessed me this day." He said with a hand at his chest and eyes briefly closed in a smile.
He then frowns a little, before saying in a more apologetic tone, "You seemed a bit stress though. Is there yet something I may help you with, m'lady? My name is Zelvo, by the way. Zelvo Zezmogr."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.
Nina looks between Rashimi and Zelvo for a moment, his words pulling her attention away from the fairy. But, not before she gives a playfully amused comment to Rashimi. "I've seen you do better. But overall, not bad. Perhaps because the darts are a bit bigger than yours?" Upon processing Zelvo's comment, she gives him a curious tilt of her head but a friendly smile, adjusting her bag as she shifts her weight between heel to foot. "Oh! Um... Not really. Just a bit overwhelmed. The festival is quite nice! Just very... mentally stimulating." She pauses for a moment, giving another look between Rashimi, Zelvo, and the new arrival a distance away before seeming to catch herself on a thought, quickly extending her hand as an introduction to Zelvo. "Apologies! You said your name was Zelvo. I'm Nina. Nina Wildvale. Host of The Wayward Collective. Pleasure for us to make your acquaintance." As Nina waits for a possible reciprocation of hand shake, she gives a glance to Rashimi, decisively leaving her introduction up to her.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
Rashimi's fifth dart falls short of the target. Her first and third darts end up in the white. Her second and fourth darts hit the yellow, but they don't quite land in the bullseye.
Xenophon: Topaz Dragonborn Fighter (ixi's Dragon of Icespire Peak)
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Rashimi looks quite pleased by her results. "Not bad. But I could be better." She tilts through the air towards where Zelvo and Nina are talking. "I'm aiming higher than most highwaymen," she says with a smirk as she hovers just above Nina's head, the position bringing her mostly eye-level with the massive man. "Rashimi Wind-Forger of the Tamiir-Quah." Her head whips around to suddenly fasten her gaze onto the dwarf who's so far been watching them quietly. "What about you?"
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Kraig startles with Rashimi's eyes on him, shocked out of the calculations of her dart throwing precision. "Oh!, uh..aye, M' name is Kraig Bronzeaxe, yeh throh darts like a right proper warrior, rashimi was it?" his words come out in a thick dwarvish brogue. Kraig steps over to the group of strangers, eyes darting around the crowd nervously, "I agree with yer witchy compatriot. I came out tuh Sandpoint t' git away from crowds o' people."
Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress
Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
"I am a right proper warrior." Rashimi grins. "Nice to meet you two," she says to Zelvo and Kraig. "I think all lowlander towns are crowded as a mountain stream during breeding season. But maybe there's somewhere out of the big square where there are a bit fewer people?" she suggests, glancing with Nina with her brow tenting slightly.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Nina keeps her hand extended to Zelvo but tilts her head, studying the Dwarf thoughtfully for a moment as she glances back to Rashimi before clearing her throat. "A less crowded place would be ideal, yes. I think, if I understand correctly, that most people will be here at the festival." She pauses for a moment before fixing her gaze back on the Dwarf, eyes seeming to hover over his brooch before her demeanor seems to shift to one of slight awkwardness. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well Kraig. Pardon my curiousity, but were you a student?" She gives a slight addressing nod to his brooch as she offers her other hand to shake Kraig's.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
Kraig looks down at his brooch in confusion before nodding with sudden understanding. He takes the sorceress’ hand in both of his. They are rough and cracked, as if they’d been tested against the stone and earth of the depths. “Aye, in th’ Archaeology department. I’m uh..” the dwarf’s face cracks in a wince, his hands tense in sync, “On sabbatical righ na, the numpties they call students cannae handle muh training regimen.” Kraig, realizing his almost vice grip on Nina’s hand releases quickly, “apologies, lass, cannae we get to where the drinks be flowing? I’m running a bit parched.”
Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress
Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
Nina considers Kraig's response for a moment, giving her fingers a simple wiggle once free from his grip. After a brief pause she offers him an awkward smile laced with some realization. "Oh! I haven't been to the archeology department. Not really my cup of tea. I'm more into history of arcana. Although, recently I've been more focused on proper arcane manipulation and utilization." She pauses for another moment, before giving a slight shrug, her demeanor one of slight sheepishness. "The academy sent me out on practical field learning so I'd stop blowing up their practice halls. Quite a small world, huh?" There is another brief pause before she clears her throat, speaking quickly to cut through any awkward hesitation her statement may have caused. "Anyway! I could do drinks. Drinks would be nice. How about you two?" She turns her attention to Rashimi and Zelvo, giving them each an awkward smile.
Nina Wildvale|Changeling|Wild Magic Sorcerer|Rise of The Reunelords|Active
Kai Loire|Water Genasia|Life Cleric|Road To Phandalin|Retired
Willow Twilight|Swiftstride Shifter|Blood Hunter|Ebberon|Retired
Meephylia Polliwog|Grung|Dragon Sorcerer|Descent To Avernus|Retired
Ashryn Rairs|Changeling|Hexblade Warlock|Out Of The Abyss|Dead
At Nina’s confession of arcane explosions, the dwarf gives a hearty laugh, “Ye sound like a riot, Nina! Not like most o’ the stuffed shirts I deal with.” He turns to the other two, “Eh? Drinks are on me, iffin that’s what’s holdin ye back.”
Corinne Hemlock: Dhampir courtesan and dusk huntress
Kraig Bronzeaxe: Dwarven archaeologist and guerilla archer
"I usually get asked where my parents are when I go somewhere with alcohol," Rashimi replies to Kraig, looking mildly disgruntled. Which may be a fair question on a few bartender's parts, given that the nineteen-year-old looks significantly younger with her small size, at least until she turns her full, intense attention on you. "But I'll come along! Worst case scenario, I get to challenge someone to a duel," she adds, brightening slightly at that prospect.
Stella Diamant, Human Rogue 17 (Swashbuckler), The Exploits of Misfit Company
Kat, Medtech, Cyberpunk: Red
Shi, Changeling Bard 4 (College of Spirits), Tyrant's Grasp
Dani, Human Artificer 9 (Armorer), Skulls and Starships
DM, Project Point (Teams Scimitar and Longsword)
Everything Else!
Admittedly, Zelvo seemed to become lost in thought pondering and rubbing his chin in thought. Occasionally he could be heard murmuring 'Collective' and 'amiir-Quah, but with little more context than that on where his thoughts appeared to have run away to while Kraig is drawn into things. But eventually, some part of his brain finally picked up Nina's extended hand as he would give her a firm handshake.
Yet even still, his other hand carried on absently rubbing his chin. "... Duel? Drink? I-I'm sorry, what?" Zelvo asks, finally returning to the present. "Kinda got lost in my head a little bit there. But, uh-" Noting Kraig at last, Zevlo startles just a little. "Oh! Hello, my, uh, Mr. Bronze? I heard a bronze I think earlier, and I assume it is reference to you. And if not, my sincerest apologies." He then looks to the ladies with a sheepish grin. "But if what I heard about drinks are to be a thing, I would certainly find amicable as well. A couple, at least."
When you realize you're doing too much: Signature.