Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Hanzoku]

World Building and Backstory

Spoiler: The Story of Golarion (click to show/hide)

Being a brief summary of the history of the world

The planet Golarion orbits a yellow sun in the far reaches of the Material Plane. Third of eleven in orbit, this blue planet contains vast oceans and lush green lands, the perfect environment for countless cultures to thrive. Indeed, Golarion is the most populous planet in its solar system. Golarion's crater-scarred moon, Somal, fills its night sky, and its nearest planetary neighbors, Castrovel the Green World and Akiton the Red Planet (second and fourth from the sun, respectively), are easily visible as colored stars.

Due to its innately hospitable and life-sustaining environment compared to other worlds, presumably the work of the gods, astronomers sometimes refer to Golarion as "the Child". Astronomers on other planets, however, often refer to Golarion as "the Cage" in reference to its cosmic role as the prison of the mad god Rovagug, who lies bound at the world's core.

Golarion contains eight continents amid immense seas.

Arcadia is a lush continent that lies west from Avistan and Garund across the Arcadian Ocean, which bears its name. 4,000 miles from the shores of Avistan, little is known of this land save in the most ancient of texts and lore from long-fallen empires, though there are infrequent trade and colonization efforts from Avistan to Arcadia.

Avistan is a large peninsular continent that expands westward from Casmaron, bordered by the World's Edge Mountains. Avistan plays host to a number of civilizations built upon the ruins of great past empires, such as Thassilon and the colonies of Azlant. The Avistani nations of Taldor, Cheliax, Andoran, and Qadira are shaping up to become world powers, and the city of Absalom on an island off its coast is the largest and most cosmopolitan city in the world.

Azlant is a once-great island-continent a thousand miles to the west from the Arch of Aroden. Azlant saw the rise of the first human civilizations. All that remains of Azlant today is a series of jutting crags and narrow, twisted channels; most of the continent sunk beneath the sea when the Starstone fell from the sky.

Casmaron is the largest continent, spanning much of the world's northern hemisphere and containing the two largest and most powerful empires in the world: Kelesh and Vudra.

The Crown of the World is an immense frozen desert that spans the northern pole of the planet. While much too cold and harsh-weathered for permanent and successful habitation save for a few hardy nomads, the Crown is an invaluable trade route between Avistan and Tian Xia.

Garund is a largely unexplored continent that lies southeast of Avistan, across the Inner Sea. Whether one is scouring its northern deserts for lost relics of the Osiriani pharaohs or trekking through the near-impenetrable jungles of the Mwangi Expanse, Garund provides endless adventures for those willing to risk its many dangers.

Sarusan is the smallest and least-known continent on Golarion. It lies amid the least traveled portions of the sea.

Tian Xia is a great supercontinent across the ocean east from Casmaron and west from Arcadia. Like Avistan, it is home to many ancient and powerful empires, including Minkai and the Successor States of Lung Wa. Despite its remote location, merchants from Tian Xia travel the entire world.

However, our story does not concern itself with the whole of Golarion, though the past will influence what is to come.

Instead, let us turn our gaze to the northwest of the continent of Avistan, the region known as Varisia…

_{Text and images taken from the Pathfinder Wiki}

Spoiler: The Story of Varisia (click to show/hide)

being a slightly more in depth summary of the history of Varisia

Only recently settled by colonists from the Chelaxian Empire, the wild frontier of Varisia (pronounced vah-RHIS-ee-ah) is composed of rural communities, independent city-states, cyclopean ruins, and uncharted wilderness.

History
Thassilonian Empire

Over 10,000 years ago, much of modern-day Varisia was ruled by one of the earliest human civilizations on the Avistani mainland, the Thassilonian Empire. Formed by Azlanti exiles, and ruled by the runelords, wizards of tremendous power who practised sin magic, this nation built enormous stone monuments to its own vanity using giant slave labor. The Thassilonians were also served by the indigenous humans, whom they divided into two castes: the militia and the providers. The militia were trained in martial techniques to serve in the nation's armies, while the providers worked as farmers, craftspeople, miners, and mystics.

Already weakened by corruption and warfare, Thassilon quickly crumbled during the destruction and chaos brought on by Earthfall. The runelords, having foreseen this apocalypse, hid in numerous protected sanctuaries to escape death, entering a deep sleep in which most still lie.

The elven city of Celwynvian in western Varisia's Mierani Forest was also abandoned just before the impact of the Starstone. Its inhabitants, along with all the other elves of the Inner Sea region, left Golarion for their realm of Sovyrian.

Age of Darkness

With the runelords powerless and slumbering, the surviving people of Varisia were left to create their own destiny. The human militia caste broke into clans and eventually developed into the Shoanti people, who began settling all over modern-day Varisia. The provider caste transformed into what are known today as Varisians, from whom the land takes its current name, and took on a more nomadic lifestyle.

It was also during this time that the dwarves emerged on the surface at the completion of their Quest for Sky. They established the Sky Citadel of Janderhoff in the western Mindspin Mountains.

Chelish expansion

Thousands of years passed, and the land and peoples became more stable; the Shoanti battled giants and orcs, while native Varisians roamed across the region and spread out across Avistan. Varisia itself was largely ignored by the empires of the south because it was simply too far away, while the Jarls of the Lands of the Linnorm Kings preferred to raid further south, as Varisia lacked any major coastal settlements.

This came to an end during the period of rapid Chelish expansion, known as the Everwar. Southern exploration of the largely wilderness region began in 4405 AR, when Chelish colonists entered the land through Bloodsworn Vale. This sparked a war between the settlers and Shoanti that last nearly a century before the Shoanti were pushed back onto the Storval Plateau and other less desirable regions.[9] With the native inhabitants removed from the most fertile land near the coast, Chelish colonists began to arrive in much greater numbers, under the pretense of bringing "civilization and culture" to Varisia.

Death of Aroden

Another upheaval occurred upon the death of Aroden and the civil war which tore apart Cheliax for decades. After the House Thrune took the throne, a large part of the population left Korvosa and founded Magnimar on the southwest corner of Varisia. These two city states have since been vying for resources, though not openly warring, while the Shoanti grow strong, and ready for war in the north.

Geography
Varisia is a vast frontier region in the northwest of Avistan. It stretches from the Steaming Sea in the west to the Mindspin Mountains in the east and from the Kodar Mountains to Conqueror's Bay in the south. The region possesses a variety of environments within its limits, from the swampy Mushfens of the south to the flame-scorched Cinderlands on the northern Storval Plateau.

Thassilonian Ruins

Countless gigantic monuments and buildings left over from ancient Thassilon can be found across Varisia. They have survived for over ten millennia due to the skills of their stone giant crafters and the power infused in them by the runelords. The most well-known of these include the Cyphergate of Riddleport, the Irespan of Magnimar, the Grand Mastaba of Korvosa, and the Lady's Light in the Mushfens.

In the past few hundred years, the magic protecting these structures has finally begun to fail, and have slowly been suffering from the normal effects of erosion. This has also made them more vulnerable to explorers and treasure seekers, who search for the lost treasures of their ancient owners.

Government
Varisia has no central government. It is a collection of independent city-states that each holds sway over a small collection of towns and villages, while the wilds on the edges of their territory (including most of the area on top of the Storval Plateau) is claimed by the Shoanti. Varisian politics is dominated by the competing aims of criminal Riddleport, ambitious Magnimar, and traditionalist Korvosa. The neutral Kaer Maga is often discounted altogether, and its inhabitants prefer it that way.

Korvosa & Magnimar

Korvosa is the oldest and largest of these cities, founded as a Chelis] colony in the 45th century AR, and is the only one to have established a hereditary monarchy. Thousands of dissatisfied Korvosans fled to Magnimar less than a century ago, disagreeing with their mother city's allying themselves with the new, infernally-backed Chelish government. Although Magnimar had existed before, the mass influx of new citizens made it a true rival to Korvosa's economic dominance of the region.

Riddleport

Far to the northwest of Magnimar and Korvosa is the pirate-haven of Riddleport. It is governed by a powerful Overlord who runs with a harsh, but decidedly laissez-faire attitude.

Kaer Maga

The smallest of Varisia's major cities is the unusual city of Kaer Maga, found on one of the highest parts of the Storval Rise. It exists in basically an anarchic state, with numerous smaller power groups looking after their own interests.

Inhabitants
Despite being a frontier, humans are still the majority population in Varisia, although significant pockets of other races exist here as well. The humans are primarily of Chelaxian, Shoanti, and Varisian stock, with a fair number of Taldans, Ulfen, and even Tien thrown into the mix as well.

Dwarves

Janderhoff (in the Mindspin Mountains) is not only the largest dwarven settlement in Varisia, but also where the majority of local stout folk live. There they mine and smelt the ores they dig out of the ground, but can also be found throughout Varisia as underground guides and mercenaries, merchants, and hunters. Dwarven ingenuity is well-known, and is evidenced by the exotic ore processing facility called the the Gas Forges, located in Riddleport.

Half-elves

The Half-elves of Varisia face a lot of prejudices from both parental races, so they often prefer the harsh life in anarchic Riddleport or even an nomadic existence with the native Varisians and even the Shoanti to the life in the towns of southern Varisia. Life is especially depressive in Korvosa where they tend to be the most pitied offspring of lustful Mierani ambassador Perishial Kalissreavil and a lot of bored young noble women from the Korvosan upper class.

Halflings

Halflings are a quite adaptable lot and can be found in the big cities as well as under the nomadic Varisians. Good sailors, they often came with their Chelish masters to Korvosa and make the crew of nearly half the ships belonging to Korvosa's elite. They can also be seen in Magnimar as well as in Riddleport where they often follow more shadowy ways and find great opportunities in the city's underworld.

Half-orcs

Many Shoanti tribes live near the Hold of Belkzen with constant skirmishes between orcs and humans. Sometimes this leads to rapes which could eventually culminate with pregnancy. Few of these half-orc children survive into adulthood, and fewer decide to accept the difficult cohabitation with their human cousins in some of the Varisian cities.

Flora & Fauna
Varisia is home to a wide variety of plant-life and creatures, given its extremes in environments and geography. It is also known as a "frontier" or "wild" region, with many dangerous monsters living in relatively close proximity to Varisia's settlements. These include such creatures as Black Magga, known to dwell in the waters of the Storval Deep north of the village of Turtleback Ferry, the seldom-seen Sandpoint devil, and such mythical creatures as the Oliphaunt of Jandelay. In addition, Varisia is home to a number of larger non-human populations. The most common of these are the goblins, who dwell here in larger numbers than almost anywhere else in the Inner Sea region, although aasimars are a significant minority as well.

Dragons

Although dragons have dwelt in Varisia since time immemorial, until recently they have had few clashes with the more civilized races. As the humanoid population centers grow and expand into the wilderness, so do the encounters with dragons.

Giants

The runelords of Thassilon exploited the expertise and power of giants in order to build their Brobdingnagian monuments and buildings. Thousands of years later, countless giant races still inhabit Varisia in great numbers, although most have retreated to the less-civilized regions atop the Storval Plateau. These include the hill giants of the Gnashers and the Iron Peaks, and the stone giants of the Iron Peaks.

Ogres

The ogres of Varisia are among the most notorious in all of the Inner Sea region. Their destructive tribes serve as a type of buffer between the civilized races of the lower plains and the giants of the Storval Plateau. As civilization slowly expands in Varisia, it is only a matter of time before ogres are pushed into open warfare, but for now they are happy arguing and fighting amongst each other.

As fascinating as these creatures and places are, they are not yet our focus either. Instead of a massive city, let us instead turn our attention to a small port town… Sandpoint.

_{Text and images taken from the Pathfinder Wiki}

Spoiler: Sandpoint (click to show/hide)

Being a brief history of the town of Sandpoint

Sandpoint is known as the 'Light of the Lost Coast' and is a small town in south-western Varisia under the influence of the city of Magnimar to its south. Sandpoint remains the only place of note along the Lost Coast, but it has grown considerably in the past few years and is now Varisia's sixth-largest settlement; nevertheless, it still maintains the air of a sleepy fishing town. Sandpoint is most famous for the arts: particularly theatre and high quality glass-blowing.

Geography
Resting in a natural cove along the cliff-lined Lost Coast region of Varisia, on the edge of the Varisian Gulf, Sandpoint is a medium-sized town that exemplifies the varied people of the land. While only about fifty miles northeast of the city of Magnimar, and technically under its rule, Sandpoint benefits from its isolated location in its ability to remain fairly autonomous. The most notable feature of the town is the ruined lighthouse that stretches high above the coastal bluffs, a testament to the ancient empire of Thassilon which existed here centuries before the current town was settled.

History
Though Sandpoint is a relatively new settlement, it has had its fair share of notable events in its short history. From the violent nature of its founding to the "late unpleasantness" of 4702 AR, this quaint town is no stranger to the same (if not worse) terrors that plague larger, more dangerous cities.

Founding

Four powerful families from Magnimar had designs on settling the region where Sandpoint now stands, and rather than work against each other, they consolidated their efforts and formed the Sandpoint Mercantile League. These four families, the Kaijitsu (glassmakers and jewelers), the Valdemars (shipbuilders and carpenters), the Scarnettis (loggers and millers), and the Deverins (farmers and brewers), sailed north in 4666 AR to claim their land after securing the rights from the Magnimar Charterhouse. Yet when they arrived, they found the place already settled by a particularly large tribe of Varisians, who held the region as a traditional place to spend the winter.

Unwilling to change course, the Sandpoint Mercantile League began a series of talks with the Varisians, promising them an important place in the new township. Unfortunately, after a week of talks seemed to go nowhere, an impatient man named Alamon Scarnetti took matters into his own hands. Rounding up a group of his brothers and cousins, the Scarnettis mounted a murderous raid on the Varisian camp, intending to kill them all and leave evidence implicating local goblins for the deed. Yet the Scarnettis, too drunk and overconfident, only managed to kill five Varisians before they were themselves forced to flee, leaving behind three of their own. The incident caused a several-month delay, but eventually amends were made and the town of Sandpoint was born.

The Late Unpleasantness

The most notable events in the short history of Sandpoint occurred in the winter of 4702, and are referred to locally as "the late unpleasantness." The people of Sandpoint would prefer to put the unsavory disasters behind them, but five years is not long enough to fully forget these events. Within the course of only a few years, a string of murders by a ruthless killer known as "Chopper" and a great fire which destroyed the iconic chapel and many of the surrounding buildings ravaged the town both physically and emotionally. A grand cathedral has since been built and the people of Sandpoint are finally optimistic about their future.

The town still mourns the loss of those killed by the eccentric artist, Jervas Stoot, who was dubbed the Chopper for his grizzly killings, as well as those slain in the fire that destroyed the old chapel. In the case of the fire, only two died, but the loss of the beloved priest Ezakien Tobyn and his foster daughter, the aasimar woman Nualia Tobyn were keenly felt.

Rebuilding
In the wake of the Late Unpleasntness, the town came together to build the great Sandpoint Cathedral, a soaring structure of stone and glass, dedicated to the pantheon of the six most common goodly gods of the region - Abadar, Desna, Erastil, Gozreh, Sarenrae and Shelyn. At the core of the Cathedral is an open-air courtyard surrounding a set of seven standing stones, which are surrounded by a circular stone altar. These stones served the Varisians for centuries as a place of worship, generally Desna and the various Empyreal Lords.

It has taken years to fund and build the cathedral, but the time has come that it is finished and ready to be dedicated. It was decided to do so during the Swallowtail Festival, held on the Autumnal Equinox on the 22nd of the month of Rova.

And this is where the story begins, as each has their own reason for attending. Some are travelers from afar, others inhabitants of Sandpoint, but all will be bound together by the strands of fate.

The Players
Th4DwArfY1 – Kal Templux, Human Sorcerer
Highmax28 – Steven Westiron, Human Gunslinger
Sirus – Aloisturm, Forgeborn Aegis
Apiks – Etoile, Aasimar Oracle
Hanzoku – Zeratuu, Kobold Nobilis Unchained Rogue (DMPC)

Experience Gain
Rise of the Runelords uses the Fast XP track. This is important to keep track of, as levels will come earlier then expected!

House Rules
The changes to the standard Pathfinder rules are listed below.

Custom Race - Kobold Nobilis
A slightly buffed variation of the regular Kobold, the Kobold Nobilis has the following extra features over a regular kobold:
- two claw attacks (1d3)
- static feat (Draconic Aspect)

This brings the race to 9RP, on par with humans.

Natural Attacks
Natural attacks are allowed as secondary attacks following full attack replacements such as Flurry of Blows. RAW, this was not allowed.

Crafting
Crafting psionic items has been folded in under the regular crafting rules – psionic weapons and armor can be made using Craft Magic Arms and Armor, rings created with Forge Ring, etc.

HP Gain
At level up, roll HP gain as normal. If the roll is less than half the value of the die, it is bumped up to half. (IE, on 1d8, if 1-3 is rolled, it is bumped to 4. If 6 is rolled, it’s left as is.)

Diagonal Movement
Normally, diagonal movement is treated as 5' for the first square, 10' for the second square, 5' for the third square and so on. For ease of play, diagonal movement is always treated as 5'.

[Hanzoku]

Kal Templux
“Well, this is it.” The older man said gravely. In the last year or two, threads of silver had begun to streak his dark hair and beard, but the lines on his face were far more the result of smiles and laughter then worries and regret.

Indeed, he couldn’t maintain his gravity for long as he clapped the younger man next to him on his shoulder. “Ah, I can’t stay that serious. Kal, I’ve been glad for your company on the road, and your ready willingness to deal with the chores around camp, and listen to my rambling stories. I’ve had several apprentices before you that weren’t half as gifted, or half as willing to learn.”

“Thanks, Josef.” Kal said with an answering smile. “Good to know that you value me for my strong back and willingness to listen to your tall tales!”

“Hah!” Josef said, chuckling. “Right in one. To be a touch more serious, lad, there’s little more I can teach you. I’ve managed to kindle that spark of magic I saw in you years ago into a small flame, but now the only way for that flame to grow is to let the winds of adventure whip it into a bonfire.”

“I know.” Kal said, taking a deep breath. “Still, I can’t say I won’t regret that we’re parting ways now. Are you sure you don’t want to visit Sandpoint first before making your way home?”

Josef shook his head. “Nay, Kal, nay. I know myself too well, if I head away from Magnimar now, I’ll catch ship at Sandpoint and end up traveling another direction all together. No, I’m here now, and there I must go – at least for a while, before the wanderlust sinks its claws into me once more.”

Kal managed a smile as he nodded. Josef’s wandering nature was well known to him. Since he had joined his master, they had rarely spent more than a week in any one town before a rumor of adventure, or of interesting sights, or simply the urge to be anywhere but there had struck his master and sent them striding on. Along the way, the other man had pushed and prodded his apprentice, forcing his nascent talent to develop until he could properly call himself a sorcerer – if little past an apprentice.

“There’s two things to look forward to, Kal. If you keep moving, I understand you’ll be there in time for the Swallowtail Festival, and there’s nothing like a town-wide party waiting for you to make the road go by more swiftly? And second, there’s an old companion of mine – my old teacher in fact. Her name is Niska Mvashti. She’s a druid as well as a sorcerer, but she’s one to know more then I for any questions you still have about your powers… or your heritage.”

Josef glanced at Kal’s hands, and the young man curled his fingers closed, hiding the talon-like nails they sported.

“Besides, the new Cathedral also honors Shelyn, and perhaps you can receive guidance there on that fool’s quest of yours.”

Kal frowned at that. “There’s nothing foolish in doing good, Josef.”

Josef held a hand up. “Aye, indeed. But an act such as what you want to achieve… be careful, lad. Rising to such heights, you’ll have to face many grave perils.”

Kal smiled, touched as he saw through to the other man’s worry. “Don’t worry, ‘old man’.” He teased, “I don’t plan to beard a dragon in its own den without a good plan to back me up.”

Josef and Kal clasped hands at the crossroads where their paths split. “Aye, just remember, you don’t have to be faster than the dragon, you just have to be faster than the man behind you!”

“I’ll keep that in mind, but I hope never to need to use that particular advice!”

With that, the two parted with a friendly wave, the older man’s steps leading to the great city of Magnimar, and the younger following the Lost Coast Road in the direction of Sandpoint.

Aloisturm
A few days before the Swallowtail Festival…

Bastargre Widdershins was deep in his work, bushy eyebrows meeting in a solid hedge above his squinting eyes, his drooping mustache bouncing with his muttering. Half of his words were directed to his current task, but the other half formed a litany of imprecations and complaints – most to do with his current position in life, with what he was working on, and with the real or perceived lack of respect he received from the other residents of Sandpoint, particularly those skilled in the arcane arts.

An Arcanist by trade, Bastargre fell in an odd category between the studiousness of his fellow wizards, and the casual innate ease of magic mastery of his sorcerous contemporaries. His feelings of not fitting into either group only contributed to his general feeling of being an outcast (a position he earned more by his awkward social skills and constant attempts to one up his ‘competition’ then how he chose to weave arcane energies.)

Right now, though, he was nearing his moment of great triumph. Skilled fingers worked inside the iron shell of the form on the table in front of him, occasionally making use of tools both mundane and magical to make connections between the wasted flesh inside the shell and the plates and crystals that were interchangeably grafted and grown into the form.

The little gnome drew back and took a cloth from his pocket, mopping the sweat from his green-tinted face and brow. “Almost, almost…” he whispered to himself, resisting the urge to dance. This was the most delicate stage, and perhaps the most dangerous. The construct should obey him, its (new) master… but just in case, he murmured the words of Mage Armor and kept the activating word for a Windy Escape present in his thoughts. Should the construct attack, he’d be able to dodge its first blow for sure, and then it was just a matter of running for the guards and letting them deal with it.

Nervously, Bastargre closed up the construct until only one plate remained open. Reaching inside, he pressed a finger against a crystal that was placed roughly where a heart would be on a human. He focused and muttered words in Azlanti, hoping all the while that he was getting the accents and pronunciation correct.

A wide smile broke out across his face as the crystal began to glow, feebly at first, but increasing in intensity in a regular, pulsing rhythm. The gnome hastily secured the last plate and then stepped back as the form stirred for the first time in even he didn’t know how long.

The construct jerked upright, helmet swivling in long arcs from left to right, almost transversing all the way around the back before reaching its limits.

“Where am I? What is this?” the figure rumbled, voice rusty with disuse.

“Hahahaaaa!” Bastargre crowed, now permitting himself a furious jig. “It works! It moves, it talks, and it’s all my doing! They’ll eat their words, yes they will!”

The construct pushed itself off the table, its movements oddly flowing and graceful for what outwardly looked to be a hulking iron golem. Its helmet continued those long sweeps as it took in its environment, and the strange gnome still capering in front of it.

“What are you doing, meatbag?” it asked, emotionless voice nevertheless edged with a trace of annoyance.

The gnome stopped dancing and stomped his foot, pointing a quivering finger at the construct. “Listen here! I’m the one who repa- constructed you. You will address me as ‘Master’!”

The construct considered this, then the helmet dipped and rose once. “What are you doing, Master meatbag?”

Bastargre crossed his arms and huffed, blowing his long moustaches away from his mouth. “Must have made an error with that Common runestone that I replaced the other language one with. Still, not bad, not bad, it speaks Common at least…” he muttered to himself before clearing his throat.

“Construct, I was celebrating my achievement in successfully activating you. You will obey my commands. You will guard me with your life… er… existence. If anyone attempts to break into my house, you will detain or dispatch them.” The gnome rattled off.
 
“What is this one named, Master Meatbag?” the Construct stated, interrupting the flow of commands.

“Eh?”

“Clarification: How will you address this one besides ‘Construct’?” the figure said patiently.

“Ahh… um…” Bastargre was stumped, and then remembered the runes stamped into the chestpiece. “Let’s see… those would mean… you are called ‘Aloisturm’.”

Aloisturm nodded once in reply. It had a name now, and a purpose, such as it was. For now, that would do, while it tried to recover. It knew that this foolish little gnome was not its true creator, but those memories, and truly any memory beyond its awakening just now remained hazy fragments. Hopefully more time active would allow those fragments to coalesce. For now, watching and listening would allow it to learn more about its current conditions.

“Now, you’ll need to stay here for a day or two, but I know just when I want to show you off…” a slow smile spread across the gnome’s face. “Yes…. The Swallowtail Festival! Everyone in attendance, visitors by the score, the perfect time to show Bastargre Widdershin’s amazing skill!”

Aloisturm dispassionately noted that the gnome’s crazed cackling was probably going to serve as a point of annoyance.

Etoile
The evening light shone through the windows of the library, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air. He moved through the towering shelves gracefully, almost dancing as long-fingered hands deftly plucked some books from their incorrect homes and returned others to their rightful places.

A table stood in the center of the room, a well-padded travelling trunk standing open. Next to it, a pile of books shrinks as he finds new homes for the new additions to the library. Others make their way into the trunk with careful precision, those who were only visitors to this library and not permanent additions. They would, regretfully, have to return to Magnimar with the next caravan, their loss at least recompensed by the new guests to the library that have taken their place.

The door of the library creaks as it opens, startling Etoile from his actions. He stops with a book cradled in his hands as an old man turns the corner, muttering to himself. He stops short and looks at Etoile and thuds his walking stick against the floor with a loud rap. “You there! What do you think you’re doing, handling a priceless tome like that?”

Etoile blushed and carefully put the tome in its correct location. “S-Sorry Master Araknozzi” he started to say.

The old man tutted and peered at Etoile closely. “Do I know you? What are you doing in here, young man?”

Etoile breathed out an imperceptible sigh. Master Araknozzi, I’m your assistant librarian.” He said the well-worn words with practiced ease.

“Nonsense! I would remember having an assistant librarian, wouldn’t I?” the old man harrumphed.

“My great grandfather arranged my position with you, Master. Tural of the Silver Wings?”

The old man’s mood changed immediately. “Ah yes, Tural! It’s been years since I’ve spoken to that old goat.” His face contorted for a second as he concentrated, and then he nodded slowly. “Ah yes… yes, you’re his great grandson…. Etole?”

“Etoile, Master Araknozzi.”

“Etoile, Etoile… my memory for names must be slipping. And call me Alastair, young one.”

“Yes, Master Alastair.”

The old man harrumphed again, this time more affectionately as he looked around the library. “Well, well… you’ve been doing a good job. All neat and clean and everything in its proper place! Well done, lad, for your first day.”

Etoile held his tongue. Reminding the old man that he had been working there for many years now was usually counterproductive, even if it sometimes dredged up more memories. Luckily, the old man usually believed the ledger at payday when it was neatly annotated.

“Now, finish up what you’re doing, young man, you’ll want to be early to bed tonight, and no need to come in tomorrow – I doubt a soul in town will be interested in reading!”

Why is that, Master Alastair?” Etoile said as he finished shelving the last books and closed the travelling chest.

“Do you live under a rock, my boy? Tomorrow is the Swallowtail Festival! You should get out and meet a pretty girl or two. There will certainly be enough to keep you occupied!” Alastair said, chortling as Etoile blushed bright red.

I-I’ll think a-about it, Master.” He said. In truth, he was a good thirty years the senior of any of the other ‘youngsters’, and only ten or twenty years younger than his boss, for all he looked a callow youth.

As he made his way home, Etoile wended his way through the evening crowds invisibly. People would step aside to avoid running into him and step back into their path without a thought. For his part, he did his best to avoid contact, muttering apologies when needed, though his words went unheeded.

He let himself into the tiny house that was his home and lit a lamp, the soft glow spilling across the spartan room and the two bookcases near the simple bed. In truth, he had little need of its light except to read, but enjoyed the cheerful glow it provided.

Pulling a book from one of the bookshelves, he flipped through it until he found a page he liked. Laying it out, he started cooking, referring to the book often as he transformed simple ingredients and basic herbs and spices into a savory dinner for himself. In truth, he wasn’t much of a gourmet, but he did love seeing the cooking recipes turn from dry words into a reality before him.

After eating and cleaning up, he choose another book from the shelf and settled into his favorite pastime. Opening A Study of the Inner Planes, a Treatise of Earth, Wind, Fire and Water, he settled into his chair near the lamp and let the knowledge within the pages wash over him.

A frown marred his face as a stray though passed him by. Tomorrow, Sandpoint would be filled with strangers and noise and bustle. The frown transformed into a small smile though, at the thought that those same strangers might bring new knowledge with them, and new books. Perhaps he could make an addition or two to his library?

It might be worth attending after all.

Zeratuu

The cart bounced and clattered over the road, the drivers taking no particular care to avoid rocks or holes in the way, leaving their erstwhile passengers to bounce and jostle like the cargo they were.

Zeratuu grumbled as she pushed herself upright once again, a wisp of smoke drifting from her mouth past the tight muzzle that kept her from parting her jaws more than an inch or two.

“HOOO! HOOO! HOOOOOOOT!” The massive form in the cage next to hers smashed against the bars, rocking the wagon with its weight. Mad eyes glared at her above a viciously sharp beak, and it strained to force an ursine arm through the bars separating them, swiping with viciously hooked claws.

The kobold hissed at the beast and wound her tail around the bars in the corner, wishing that her hands and feet weren’t shackled, her hands further covered by thick leather mittens to render her claws useless. Normally, an iron plate was slid into place between her cage and that one, the same as was done on the other side. The dwarves were angry still about her last escape, and had left her as the only thing the murderous beast could see. The whole trip had been like this, and exhaustion weighed heavily on her.

She turned her head to look at the occupants in the cage on the other side of hers. ”I’m glad you guys aren’t insane wizard experiments.” She grumbled in Undercommon, and the leaves crowning the creatures bobbed and shook as they clicked and chirped in response, something she’d come to take as agreement.

“HOOOO! HOOOOOOO!”

“Aw, shut up in there, you messed up thing!” one of the drivers shouted in annoyance.

“You shut up, you bald-faced halfling!” the other retorted heatedly.

“I wasn’t talking to ya’, but you’re a messed up thing too!”

The two started arguing all the harder, and the cart rocked as they pushed and shoved, trying to force the other off the wagon. So caught up in their conflict, they paid little attention to the path of the wagon until the front wheel on the right went off into the ditch on the side of the road.

Zeratuu screeched in panic as the wagon tilted towards the front and right. For the vegepygmies behind her, it was of little consequence, but the monstrosity in front of her slavered as she scrambled and scuffed with her legs, her tail couldn’t hold her weight and her little wings spread in a futile effort to fly and she was going to fall into its reach and-

Thin, twigy arms wrapped around the flight muscles at the bases of her wings, others seizing her tail, halting her slide. “Click. Click-Click… Chirp!” the vegepygmies chorused, heaving together. “Click. Click-Click… Chirp!” Together, they hauled her up against the bars opposite the raging monster, holding her securely as it swiped furiously, hooting in frustrated rage.

“What in the NINE HELLS are you idiots doing? If you can’t even keep your eyes on the blasted road in the middle of the day, what good are ye?” a voice roared as the second wagon in the troupe came to a stop. “Get that wagon back on the road, and I swear if any of those beasties came to harm, you’ll be on display in a cage come time!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” One of the dwarves muttered as they set themselves under the wagon and heaved, first upright and then back onto the road with the help of the other two.

Zeratuu relaxed slowly as the danger passed and looked at the vegepygmies gratefully. “Thank you so much… I owe you one. Not sure how I can repay you when we’re stuck here, but…”

“Click-Click Chirp Click” they chorused, patting her gently.

“Now get a move on, you idiots! The Festival is tomorrow, and we’ve got coin to make showing this lot!”

One of the dwarves peeked inside the cages and grumbled in approval. “They’re all fine. Let’s get going.”

The wagon rumbled on once more, the first traces of Sandpoint visible in the distance.

Steven Westiron
The sun was barely a glow on the horizon, the sky above slowly losing its black hue as the predawn light filled it instead. Normally, he would have still been asleep, but this day was apparently anything but normal.

He stepped aside to walk alongside the road as another cart went rumbling by, filled with produce and a farmer’s family, sleepy-eyed and dressed in their feastday best. It was the fourth or fifth that had rolled back in the early hours of the morning, all heading towards his destination. He had left the farmlands behind an hour ago, and ahead, the Lost Coast road crossed a sturdy bridge, before bending to the left, skirting around the sharply rising hills and cliffs ahead.

The cart past, he chanced a glance behind him and returned to the paved road. The next cart would be a few minutes, and he preferred walking on the dry road, rather than the dew-covered grass next to it.

He kept himself alert by paying attention to the sights and sounds around him. With so much activity on the road, he doubted that goblins or bandits would be much trouble, but it never paid to be careless. The clatter of hooves and rumble of wheels behind him matched his mental clock, and he smoothly stepped to the side once more, expecting the wagon to go clattering past. This time, it didn’t, the farmer at the reins pulling back gently, the horse pulling the cart moving to a gentle trot.

“Well now, you look to be heading the same direction as us. Care for a life, stranger? It wouldn’t do to miss the start of the festival, or be too footsore to dance later!” the man said with good humor. His wife smiled next to him, and two children peeked over the side, staring at his duster and hat with childish curiosity.

Steven took a deep drag of his cigarette and eyed what little remained critically, letting the smoke out in a long stream, ending in a pair of rings that drew an ‘ooo’ from the boy. He crushed the ember under his boot and tipped his hat to the farmer.

“Thanks, much obliged. I hadn’t expected so many people on the road so early.” The gunslinger said, easily swinging himself up onto the back of the wagon. As soon as he was seated, the farmer snapped the reins and urged the horse back to a faster trot.

“It’s the festival, Mr…?” the woman said.

“Westiron, ma’am. Steven Westiron.” He said, flashing a small smile as he introduced himself with another tip of his hat.

“Julia Sandhurst, or just Julia, there’s no need to ma’am me! This lunk is my husband, Abel, and these are Kevin and Sandra.” Julia said, patting her husband affectionately on his shoulder.

“Anyway, this year the festival is going to be the biggest in memory. They’re finally finished building the new cathedral, and at the end of the day everyone will be attending its consecration.”

“And there’ll be games!” Kevin said brightly. “I heard that there was going to be a menag… menage… people with strange creatures to show off!”

“Menagerie, Kevin.” His sister said with a sniff. “And I heard that there would be magic acts too. Real magic!”

Abel chuckled at their bickering. “Aye, there’ll be all that and more. There’ll be a big feast at lunch, and another after the ceremony. You’re sitting on part of it, in fact – potatoes, corn and more.”

“Well, it sounds like it’ll be mighty interesting, I’ll have to check it out.” Steven replied, fingers deftly rolling another cigarette.

He leaned back against the side of the wagon as he lit his cigarette, blowing the smoke out idly to drift away in the sea breeze as the rumble of the wagon and the happy chatter of the family lulled him into a contemplative mood.

[Hanzoku]

Dawn breaks in full over the square in front of the cathedral, already packed full of men, women and children from Sandpoint, the outlying communities, and even further away, drawn by the Festival and the dedication of the Cathedral. The skies are clear and while the air is crisp, the first rays of sun promise a warm day.

The edges of the square are lined with merchant carts, stalls and tents. Along the south end, a menagerie displays strange creatures, though the largest cage is still covered by a cloth. Other tents hold racks of fine clothing, or a dazzling array of jewelry in bronze, silver and gold. On the corner of the street leading north, the smell of hot savory pies wafts from a stand tempts (or torments) those whose breakfast was meager or hours past.

The crowd grows quiet as four figures walk onto the simple stage in front of the church. A woman, followed by three men arrange themselves in a line, and she steps forward first. Dressed in fine clothes, the woman’s short red hair is ruffled by the morning breeze as she surveys the crowd before breaking out into a friendly smile.

“Citizens and honored guests, welcome to this year’s Swallowtail Festival!” she begins with infectious enthusiasm.

“I’m glad to see so many of you here – why, I even see Larz there in the crowd, and we all know how hard it is to tear him away from his tannery!”

A ripple of laughter washes over the crowd, and while Larz blushes a bit, even he manages a small smile as he’s clapped on the shoulders by those around him.

“I know many of you are eager to enjoy yourselves, and we have much for you to see and do. Many of our citizens have come together to provide entertainment, events and to host the feasts at lunch and dinner today. We also have many traveling acts and shows to entertain you and fill you with wonder.

I wish you all the best today, but I am only the first to speak, so let me turn you over to our Sheriff, Belor Hemlock!”

The crowd applauds equally for their mayor and their sheriff as the two exchange places. He is tall and broad shouldered, with the dark skin and black hair of a Shoanti tribesman, despite his Chelish name. His voice is deep and somber as he speaks.

“I won’t take too much of your time as well, and wish only to say two things. First, be careful during the festival – Sandpoint is a safe town with little crime, but a festival such as this means there will undoubtedly be a pickpocket or two. In addition, some of the games and events involve weapons and roughhousing. While you accept the possibility of injury involving yourself, consider those around you as well.

Second, I would like us to take a moment of silence for those who lost their lives in the fire that claimed the town church. Give your thoughts and prayers to Ezakien Tobyn and his daughter, Nualia.”

The square falls silent for a long minute of shared prayer and remembrance, and Belor quietly returns to the line on the stage.

The next figure steps forward, a spare main with a neatly trimmed goatee, dressed in courtly finery that outshines the others on the stage. He clears his throat and glances around, determining the mood in the square and slowly lifting it with precision.

“Now, our very own Lord Lonjiku Kaijitsu was scheduled to speak as well, but he sent word that he is, regrettably, taken ill. I’m sure we all wish him good health.” He says with a touch of dry humor, and the townsfolk chuckle.

“Now, I’m sure that you’re all sad that I’ll be delivering his portion of these speeches instead, but I’m sure that you’ll all get over your grief – eventually.”  More chuckles, and he starts taking a more animated tone, his gestures becoming broader and more showy.

“Five years, my friends.” He begins slowly “Five years since the fire. In the time since, we have all pulled together. Some contributed their sweat, others tears – particularly when their pursestrings were tugged on. We worked long hours to quarry the stone, longer hours to shape it and place it. The finest engineers were consulted, and we see the result of their vision behind me now, rising into the air. Soaring, with the faith and prayers of those who built this magnificent Cathedral.”

He continues for several minutes, his description of the process behind the cathedral filled with witticisms and reminders of problems encountered and overcome, framed in humor and soaring words. As his speech comes to an end, he bows to the applause of the square.

“If you thought my speech was something, you need to come by my theater tomorrow for the grand opening of “The Harpy’s Curse”. For those who follow the theater in Magnimar, we have a special treat for you – the harpy queen will be played by none other than the star of Magnimar, the imcomparable diva, Allishanda!”

As he bows again to another round of appluse, he gives way to the final figure on the stage. Somewhat portly and dressed in a simple robe of white, he has a full blond beard on his face and a friendly, open demeanor.

“Now, my friends, I know that you have been most patient with us, so I will keep this short. The town council has graciously paid for the games and events this year, and all stands and games are free to enjoy as you will this year.”

A cheer breaks out, particularly from the younger member of the crowd, and he good naturedly waves them down. “The morning is yours. Return to the square at noon for the traditional Swallowtail Release, and the likewise traditional feast and dancing, catered as always by the Rusty Dragon, the White Deer, Risa’s Place, Cracktooth’s Tavern, Sandpoint Savories, The Hagfish, and the Fatman’s Feedbag. With that…. Let the Festival begin!”

As the crowds swirl and depart, the choice is open to you what to do. The following games and attractions are available, among others:

• A shooting gallery, featuring exotic firearms instead of crossbows
• A menagerie, featuring strange and exotic creatures
• An exhibition of martial arts by Sabyl Sorn, of the House of Blue Stones, with a prize promised if a challenger can manage to lay a hand on her
• A barrow run through the lower town. The organizer, a half-orc by the name of Gorvi teases at the possibility of surprising prizes. These are done in teams of two people, but there are plenty of people interested in participating.
• An obstacle course
• A competition to catch a greased pig
• A strength testing competition to ring a bell
• A wrestling and prize fighting tournament

There are also shops selling just about anything you might imagine, street vendors with foods mundane and exotic, and bards, storytellers and others brightening the event with music, stories and magic acts.

((Don't feel that you have to participate in everything - or anything, for that matter. There will be time for two events per character before midday, and another between lunch and the consecration at sunset.))

[highmax28]

Steven will participate with the Barrow Run first

Edit:
For the sake of less posts, after the barrow run, Steven will show the people how it's done on the shooting range

[TD1]

Kal wanders around the festival, listening to the music with a small smile on his face. He doesn't participate in anything, but he watches the exploits of others at various stands. He pays close attention to the Cathedral.

[Sirus]

Widdershins Master Meatbag enters Aloisturm in the strength contest, as well as the martial arts exhibition. He cackles the entire time. Aloisturm goes along with it.

[apiks]

After offering prayers for the dead, some of whom he knew, Etoile checks out the menagerie. (And if the prayers don't count as an event then search for stories/lore)

[Hanzoku]

Steven Westiron

There are plenty of people willing to partner up, and while one team seems to be a pair of brothers, the rest of the teams are likewise random strangers who decided to work together. Everyone comes together in front of a dilapidated shack near the beach.

Gorvi parades back and forth in front of the teams as his disreputable assistants push a red barrow in front of each of the four teams. The barrows almost sparkle in the morning light, obviously well cleaned from their normal refuse duties, and a fresh coat of paint on the sides for the day’s event.

“Alright, you lot, the rules are simple. We’re starting here, in front of my home – ain’t it beautiful?” he starts, eliciting a round of chuckles from the locals. “Anyway, one of you is in the barrow, the other pushes. You run down Tower Street, take a left on Shell Street, and another left onto Junker’s Way, ending at Junker’s Edge. For the Gods sakes, don’t be like those idiots last year who kept going and went flying off the edge. They got lucky, if you can call it that, to land on some of the softer refuse.”

Steven’s partner sizes him up. “You look pretty sturdy. If you don’t mind pushing, I’ll yell for when we need to turn and point out hazards in the way. I know the roads Gorvi mentioned – it’s a hard turn from Tower Street onto Shell Street. Shell Street isn’t a picnic, either – the Mayor keeps planning to put some funds towards repaving it, but everything’s gone towards the cathedral these last few years.”

Gorvi yells a bit to get everyone’s attention back to him. “Now, the best run we’ve ever seen was done in a minute – most people don’t manage that. You make your run in under a minute, and I’ve got something good for you – you wouldn’t believe what people will throw out. Now, whoever of you wins, you get three chances to ‘fish’ up something nice. Now, I think that covers everything, so good luck to yer all.”

The others scramble to get ready and wait for the signal.

((Mechanics are going to follow a chase sequence with a percentage chance of something happening. If it does, I’ll present a set of three options for you, different skills against different DCs. Fail the check and you’re stopped in that step for a round. Pass, and you get a bonus on the next percentage check, with larger bonuses for passing more difficult DC checks.))

Kal Templux
Several bards are wandering the crowds and delighting the crowds with music performances as well as comedy and storytelling. There are also plenty of farmers and townspeople who have brought their own instruments, and while their abilities are less than the professionals, they make up for it with enthusiasm and good cheer.

The Cathedral is a soaring structure, truly a credit to the design of the architect and the labor of the workers who built it. The south side of the building, facing the city center, hosts entrances to two gods of civilization, Erastil and Abadar. To the west, facing out over the sea are shrines to Shelyn and Gozreh. The east side faces the cemetery and the rising sun, and the shrines of Sarenrae and Desna are present.

You notice a small crowd taking time to say prayers for those lost to the Chopper and the fire that claimed the previous chapel. One of them catches your eye – a youth with short brown hair that, for all that he is in the middle of the crowd, also seems apart from it. As you walk on, he fades from your thoughts, quickly forgotten. 

As you wander by Tower Street, you’re urged to the side by a burly dockworker. “Oi, off the road, you lot!” he yells, “Race starting soon! Race starting, you don’t want to be underfoot!”

Aloisturm

Your presence causes some grumbling, but Widdershins possesses a fast tongue and manages to convince the organizer that his pet golem should be allowed to participate in his place. You step forward and are joined by four others – two brawny farmers, one of the town guard, and a massively muscled man, his head shaved completely bald. He’s going to seed and has a bit of a belly and chops, and he’s already a bit drunk.

You gather from what the people behind you are saying that his name is Das Korvut, he’s the town smith, and as he glares at you and spits at the ground, he doesn’t like you much. Then again, he doesn’t seem to like anyone much, as he heckles everyone present.

“Hah, you call those muscles? Run back to your momma, boys!”

“Guard? Pah! I’ve seen stronger goblins!”

He sneers at you and insults Bastargre instead. “Haha, so weak that you won’t even try yourself? Gotta have your toy try for you? Bah, I’ll be surprised if it does as well as that weakling guard.”

Bastargre fumes and growls out a simple command to you. “Win.”

The participants are given a few moments to limber up and prepare – each will be given three chances to score, and the highest score wins the content.

((Mechanics – each participant gets three attempts to ‘sunder’ a tiny wooden platform. Hitting it causes the weight to rise – the more ‘damage’ done, the farther the weight rises. Each participant is wielding a wooden training weapon that resembles the Lucerne hammer you already possess. Mechanically, it weighs and functions in the same fashion.))

Etoile

You say your prayers with a group of the other more devout citizens,  and listen to their gossip afterwards for a little while. Their discussion turns to Father Tobyn and his daughter, Nualia.

You remember Nualia as a standoffish child, white-haired and unearthly beautiful due to her aasimar heritage. However, her being obviously a child of the Heavens also made her a target of torment, well intentioned or not. Other children teased and were cruel to her from jealousy, and she was the subject of all sort of ridiculous rumors, such as being near her would cure warts or rashes.

One of the older women breaks you from your reverie with that comment, stating for a fact that having hugged the child, she was cured of a rash she had possessed a day later! Her friend breaks her bubble by reminding her dryly that the rash from poison ivy only lasts a week anyway...

Another clucks her tongue disapprovingly. “It is a shame what happened between her and that boy. And her set to join a convent!” The oldsters shake their heads in joint disapproval, while the younger members roll their eyes at their attitude.

Etoile drifts away from the group and approaches the menagerie. To one side, two dwarves have animals performing tricks – a wolf, a boar and a small bear, entertaining a small crowd. A larger crowd is gathered around a set of cages, closed off by drapes and arranged in such a way that a corridor is formed leading people from one cage to the next.

A dwarf and a gnome are standing in front of menagerie proper. “Come, come, line right up and view the wonderous and dangerous beasts from the four corners of Golarion! Be amazed by the grace of the unicorn, wonder at mysterious Zoog and vegepygmies, and behold the unbrindled ferocity of the Owlbear. And finally, our star attraction… a one of a kind mutant dragon whelp! Cast out of its nest, marvel at this draconic creature and be delighted as it breathes flame on command!”

The gnome joins in, gesturing at the crowd. “Line up, line up, single file! You’ll all have a chance to see, yes, yes you will!”

((Praying wasn't a full event, so after the menagerie, you'll be able to look for stories and lore.))

[TD1]

Kal steps to the side of the road with the others, planning to watch the race.

[Sirus]

Aloisturm paid no attention to the blustering smith. Its internal systems had been restored to functionality over the past few days serving under the tiny meatbag, and it knew that it possessed at least as good a chance in a contest of strength as most any meatbag (save for the really big ones...but that could change in the future).

Before stepping up to the platform, Aloisturm activates its Astral Armor, granting +2 STR and improved damage. It then hefts the Toycrene Hammer and sunders the platform! Destructive Blows trait applies!

[apiks]

Etoile himself has been bullied and teased for his aasimar heritage so while he and her were very different in terms of personalities, he had nothing else but a bond with Nualia.

After having excused himself from the prayers and now at the menagerie, he gets in line, curious as to the creatures.

[highmax28]

Steven, nods and then prepares himself to start pushing

[Hanzoku]

Aloisturm

The first farmer steps forward, spitting in his hands before gripping the handle of the hammer and smashing the target. (*roll*: 1d12 +2 = 5, 12, 7))

His first strike only sends the striker a quarter of the way up the rail to the bell at the top, causing Das to guffaw derisively. His second strike does better, sliding a bit over the halfway mark, and his third falls short.

“Better luck next time, little man!” Das says with a smirk as the guard accepts the hammer for his own attempt. ((*roll*: 1d12 + 1 = 5, 10, 6))

The guard’s best attempt is only halfway, and Das’s snorts in derision. “They let anyone in the guard these days, don’t they?”

The second farmer takes up the hammer and swings with the smooth assurance of someone who’s spent a lot of time hammering posts into the ground. ((*roll*: 1d12 + 2 = 13, 4, 14))

While he whiffs his second strike, his first and third strikes push the striker almost three quarters of the way to the bell, a respectable showing. Even Das has to grunt in grudging respect as he takes the hammer for his turn. “Alright, you’re not bad.”

He then flashes a grin at the competitors. “But I’m better!” he roars as he strikes with overwhelming force. However, it seems that his drinking has impaired his reflexes, and he fails to bring the hammer down squarely on the target. ((Attacking with Power Attack: *roll*: 1d12 + 9 x2 = 11, 12, 14))

His last strike is his best, tying with the previous farmer. Das grunts sourly as throws the hammer at Aloisturm’s feet. “Fine, let’s watch the little gnome’s toy break. I bet it can’t even raise the striker halfway.”

As Aloisturm picks up the ‘Toycerne Hammer’, its carapace bubbles and shifts, becoming ridged and bumped, as if it were chainmail instead of smooth metal plates. The crowd murmurs and shifts at the supernatural changes, and Widdershins begins to cackle quietly to himself. As Aloisturm sets itself squarely in front of the target and hefts the hammer, an internal error manifests for a moment, driving the strikes harder, but with less accuracy. ((I’m assuming you’d also want to Power Attack, so calculating with that option. *roll*: 1d12 + 12 = 14, 23, 22))

Its first strike is misaimed due to the glitch, but Aloisturm smoothly compensates for the next two strikes. The crowd goes silent as the striker smashes into the bell not once, but twice, two loud peals announcing the construct’s success.

Das Korvut goes red in the face as his efforts are eclipsed not once, but twice, proving that it was no fluke. “Stupid cheating construct! Bastard gnome! He should be banned! Cheater!” he roars, but his outrage is drowned out by the cheers of the crowd and the cackling of Widdershins as the gnome capers with glee.

“Our winner by a country mile, ringing the bell not once, but twice… Widdershins and his construct!” the man running the strength content announces.

((Generally, I won’t adjust your actions like that, in this case, you had an automatic success to hit. In the future, I’ll leave it to you to announce using Power Attack or not, as it normally carries a penalty to hit.))

Etoile

You join the crowd slowly working their way through the menagerie. The first cage on your left holds a Unicorn, its silvery coat sparkling, a white tuft of beard on its chin and a gracefully spiraled horn rising from its forehead. ((*roll* Perception vs Disguise – 27 vs ?)) However, as you look more closely, your eyes narrow in concentration. The sparkling is a minor magical trick, you realize, and the beard’s color is slightly different then the horse’s own coat. You’re also convinced that the horn is off-center. Just a little but… you’re sure this is no unicorn.

The next display is definitely real, a man-sized bird with dark feathers and a bright orange beak whose shape is reminiscent of an axehead. It preens behind under a wing and squawks at viewers that get too close.  Across from it is a cage holding four plants. As you look closer, they rustle and dart around, clicking and chirping to each other. A deep green color and crowned by a cap of leaves, they have tendrils of fungus dangling from their arms, midsections and legs that stream after them as they dart back and forth.

Straight ahead, a small cage holds a strange creature that looks like a wizard’s experiment gone wrong. A long, hairless tail like a rat wraps around a branch, and it clings to the bars of the cage with monkey-like arms and legs. Tendrils wiggle at the end of its mole-like nose, and its wide staring eyes produce a cone of light that sweeps back and forth as it looks around.

You turn the corner with the others and have to take a step back as the man ahead of you stumbles back in fright. “HOOOOO! HOOOOT HOOOOOOO!” the massive beast in the cage roars, smashing against the bars in unthinking rage. The creature is some amalgamation of fur and feathers, roughly ursine, though its arms are feathered and its head resembles an owl with rolling red-rimmed eyes and a gnashing beak.

The others edge around the turn to the last cage, giving the owlbear a wide berth, and you view the last cage.

Inside, the creature is unmistakably draconic, from its red scales to its powerful claws and the nubs of horns gracing its head. Its tail sweeps behind it in long strokes, and you can spot two tiny wings on its back, too small to bear its weight in flight.

As the creature looks back at the crowd murmuring, its gaze scans each of their faces. It passes over you once… and then returns. Its claws twiddle and gesture at you, with a start you realize it is enacting some form of magic.

Its mouth moves, and you hear words as if it were whispering in your ear. Unfortunately, it’s speaking a sibilant language that you don’t recognize. After a minute, it stops, then starts speaking a new language, this one guttural and rolling. After a short time, it tries again, this time the language sounding similar to Elven, but with too many differences to understand it. Seeing a lack of comprehension on your face, the creature’s shoulders slump and it stops speaking to you.

“Hey, make it breath fire!” the crowd says, growing restless at the creature’s lack of activity. The dwarf approaches the cage from behind and prods the creature, causing it to shudder and glare over its shoulder before facing the ground and raising its muzzle into the air. As you watch (Perception vs ?, ? – 16, 13 vs ?, ?) You see around its collared throat and manacled wrists flashes of copper where the red paint that was smeared over the creature was incorrectly applied and its true scale color shine through. It breathes a massive plume of fire into the air, drawing gasps of shock and delight.

You can choose to stay and observe the creature for longer – the owners seem to have overlooked you as they herd the group out and prepare for the next batch of customers. You can also choose to move on and look for stories and lore if you are done here.

Steven Westiron

With everyone ready, Gorvi roars “On yer marks… ready….. GO!”, and the competitors immediately start pushing with everything they’ve got.

In Steven’s case, his excellent memory for the parts of town he’s already seen and the commentary of Jared, his partner, allows him to apply his Knowledge (local) skill to the race. ((*roll*: 1d100 + 7 = 30))

Almost immediately as he pushes down the street and starts gaining speed, the barrow starts pulling to the left, threatening to spill his partner out on the ground. Steven has a split second to choose how to deal with the problem:

DC 15 – Dexterity – A quick reaction can correct the tilting and get them back on track.
DC 20 – Knowledge (Engineering) – If he lets it ride on the edge of the wheel into the first turn, he’ll be able to make the turn faster than the others, but Jared will need to manage to stay in the barrow until it drops down level again.
DC 25 – Knowledge (Local) – You’re supposed to stay in the middle of the road, but it’s not a rule. Let the barrel pull left and correct near the houses, but you’ll be relying on the crowd getting of your way and not catching a tent line or smashing into a stand. It’s very risky, but you’ll have something of a shortcut.

[apiks]

Having piqued his interest quite a bit, Etoile casts detect magic. Afterwards he senses motive and does a linguistics check.

[Hanzoku]

Etoile

Detect Magic:
After a few seconds of concentration, you can detect a dim and quickly fading aura, and a faint continuous aura. Another burble of the sibilant language suggests that it is from the spell that connects you still.

Sense Motive:
((*roll*: 2 + 4 vs ?))
As far as you can tell, the creature isn't trying to lie to you or even intends anything harmful. While some of its sentences sound annoyed, it seems more directed at the language barrier that separates you two then anything about you.

Linguistics
((*roll* 7 + 8, 3 + 8, 15 + 8 vs ?, ?, ?))

You identify two of the languages the creature is trying to speak to you in - Draconic and Undercommon. The rolling, guttural language eludes you.

((*roll* 16 + 8 vs ?))

You realize that it is saying the same thing in both languages, a short phrase that it seems to be repeating helplessly as you don't understand it. In Undercommon, the elven linkages are enough for you to understand it, roughly.

Please... help me.

((Heh, this is fun. The rules simply don't allow for linguistics checks with a spoken language, which is silly. We're off into unexplored territory here!))