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It had been a hard winter, but the Biscuit Boys had weathered it fairly well in Gnarsh's tower before heading south in the spring. The crossing of the Engeror Mountains into Known Alair had been an adventure all in itself, and all four were tattered and tired.
As they emerged from the forest they'd been following along the eastern bank of the river, the Biscuit Boys came in sight of a village occupying a promontory where two rivers joined. Despite not being completely clear where they were, or what the river was called, Sumael was fairly confident that they were in what had once been called the Wizard Kingdom.
A short wall seperated them from the first buildings (not an especially strong-looking one). The tumbledown remains of what had once been a large tower, looking considerably older than anything else in view, bulked at one corner.
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Cautiously, the party retreated into the trees to consider. Figgy and Sumael climbed up one to observe the settlement for a couple of hours. They could see people moving around peacefully enough, and as far as they could see from the harbour there were no slave-rowed galleys docked, only small traders and fishing vessels. There were guards on the gates and at some major buildings, but not in strength and not looking especially alert.
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Towards sunset, the group tidied themselves up as best they could, covering their slave-collars as much as possible, and headed down to the north gate talking cheerfully and unthreateningly, where they met Gerrold the guard. Their initial fears of being denied entry evaporated as this jolly individual proved more tour guide than security. He was quite surprised that they hadn't come for the festival, and congtratulated them on arriving just in time. The Swallowtail Festival was to be the next day and the whole town would be celebrating the consecration of the new Cathederal to the Triad. Figgy had never seen a cathederal, but it was clear from the others' expressions that this was a generous description of the new fane.
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The party introduced themselves with false names they'd agreed before heading in, relating a story of shipwreck that was close enough to the truth to have less chance of tripping them up later. When Gerrold told them that the town's two inns were the White Deer near the north gate and the Rusty Dragon to the south, they thanked him and headed to the latter.
This large structure was Sandpoint’s oldest inn, notable for the impressive (and quite rusty) iron dragon that loomed on the building’s roof, doubling as a lightning rod and decoration. Owned and operated for the past six years by the lovely and popular Ameiko Kaijitsu, the Rusty Dragon was not only one of the town’s most popular eateries (made so, in large part, by the spicy and exotic food served here), but also a great place to meet visitors from out of town, since most newcomers to Sandpoint come upon this inn first, the North Road being less traveled. It certainly didn’t hurt that Ameiko’s exotic beauty was more than matched by her skill at music, and few were the evenings that passed without at least two or three songs by the talented woman. Ameiko had a long-running feud with her family—leaving town to become an adventurer scandalized her family enough, but when she returned, rich and successful (and with a seemingly endless supply of eccentric hairstyles), with a desire to purchase and renovate Sandpoint’s oldest tavern, her family officially took to shunning her. In any event, the Rusty Dragon was probably the most adventurer-friendly establishment in town, with its ubiquitous “Help Wanted” board near the bar and Ameiko’s “discount rooms for anyone who tells an exciting adventure story” policy.
| The Late Unpleasantness When Jervis Stoot made clear his intentions to build a home on the island just north of the Old Light, locals paid him no mind. Jervis had already garnered something of a reputation for eccentricity when he began his one-man crusade to carve depictions of birds on every building in town. Stoot never made a carving without securing permission, but his incredible skill at woodcarving made it a given that, if Stoot picked your building as the site of his latest project, you seized the opportunity. “Sporting a Stoot” soon grew to be something of a bragging point, and Jervis eventually extended his gift to include ship figureheads and carriages. Those who asked or tried to pay him for his skill were rebuffed—Stoot told them, “There ain’t no birds in that wood for me t’set free,” and went on his way, often wandering the streets for days before noticing a hidden bird in a fencepost, lintel, steeple, or doorframe, which he’d then secure permission to “release” with his trusty hatchets and carving knives. Stoot’s excuse for wanting to move onto the isle seemed innocent enough—the place was a haven for local birdlife, and his claim of “Wantin’ ta be with th’ birds” seemed to make sense. So much so, in fact, that the guild of carpenters (with whom Stoot had maintained a friendly competition for several years) volunteered to build a staircase, free of charge, along the southern cliff face so that Stoot could come and go from his new home with ease. For 15 years, Stoot lived on the island. His trips into town grew less and less frequent, making it something of an event when he chose a building to host a new Stoot. Sandpoint was no stranger to crime, or even to murder. Once or twice a year, passions flared, robberies went bad, jealousy grew too much to bear, or one too many drinks were drunk, and someone would end up dead. But when the bodies began to mount five years ago, the town initially had no idea how to react. Sandpoint’s sheriff at the time was a no-nonsense man named Casp Avertin, a retired city watch officer from a larger town. Yet even he was ill-prepared for the murderer who came to be known as Chopper. Over the course of one long winter month, it seemed that every day brought a new victim to light. Each was found in the same terrible state: bodies bearing deep cuts to the neck and torso, hands and feet severed and stacked nearby, and the eyes and tongue plucked crudely from the head and missing entirely. Over the course of that terrible month, Chopper claimed 25 victims. His uncanny knack at eluding traps and pursuit quickly wore on the town guard, taking particular toll on Sherrif Avertin, who increasingly took to drinking. In any event, Sherrif Avertin himself became Chopper’s last victim, slain upon catching the murderer in a narrow lane—known now as Chopper’s Alley—as he was mutilating his latest victim. Yet in the battle that followed, Avertin managed a telling blow against the killer. When the town guard found both bodies several minutes later, they were able to follow the killer’s bloody trail. A trail that led straight to the stairs of Stoot’s Rock. At first, the town guard refused to believe the implications, and feared that Chopper had come to claim poor Jervis Stoot as his 26th victim. Yet what the guards found in the modest home atop the isle, and in the larger complex of rooms that had been carved into the bedrock below, left no room for doubt. Jervis Stoot and Chopper were the same, and the eyes and tongues of all 25 victims were found upon a horrific altar to a birdlike demon whose name none dared speak aloud. Stoot himself was found dead at the base of the altar, having plucked his own eyes and tongue loose in a final offering. The guards collapsed the entrance to the chambers, burned Stoot’s house, tore down the stairs, and did their best to forget. Stoot himself was burned on the beach in a pyre, his ashes blessed and then scattered in an attempt to stave off an unholy return of his evil spirit. As fate would have it, the people of Sandpoint would soon have a new tragedy to bear, one that almost eclipsed Chopper’s rampage. A month after the murderer was slain, a terrible fire struck Sandpoint. The fire started in the Sandpoint Chapel and spread quickly. As the town rallied to save the church, the fire spread, consuming the North Coast Stables, the White Deer Inn, and three homes. In the end, the church burnt to the ground, leaving the town’s beloved priest Ezakien Tobyn and his adopted daughter Aurelia dead. All that remains today of the once-loved Stoot carvings are ragged scars on buildings and figureheads where owners used hatchets to remove what had become a haunting reminder of a wolf in their fold. The homes and businesses ravaged by the fire have been reconstructed, and the Sandpoint Chapel has finally been rebuilt as well. With the consecration of this new cathedral, Sandpoint can finally put the dark times of the Late Unpleasantness in the past. |
In discussion with Ameiko, the party gradually learned a little more about the new temple's background, a period referred to in town generally as "the late unpleasantness".
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With some trepidation, they then paid a visit to the town blacksmith, Das Korvut.
Named after its owner’s affection for large red mastiffs, two to three of which could always be seen lounging about nearby, Red Dog Smithy was owned by a bald and powerfully muscled man named Das Korvut. Das’s temper was, perhaps, his true claim to fame—he had little patience for customers, and even less for everyone else. Sandpoint tolerated his foul-mouthed attitude and frequent drunken midnight rants because he really did know his job. And as long as he was busy hammering metal, he stayed relatively calm and confined to his smithy. The local children had recently been circulating a somewhat cruel rhyme about Das that they’d taken to chanting at hopsquares, a rhyme sure to come to an end once the smith heard it.
“Here comes crazy-man Das Korvut, Mad as a cut snake in a wagon rut. See how his chops go bouncity-bounce? How many people has he trounced? One! Two! Three! Four...”
Das was just about to close up when the four came into his yard, and his surly manner was a bit of a contrast to the good-natured air of the village in general. The revalation of their slave-collars was a nervous moment, as they still weren't sure whether the custom was held here and whether they would suddenly become property again. However, the smith snorted disapprovingly that "we don't hold with that here," and accepted the job of cutting the things off. Jord was first and Das nipped him a little doing it. After that he took a healthy swig from a flask and the rest went more smoothly. Sumael and Figgy added a few extra gold to his payment along with a request to keep quiet about the whole thing. Whether he was a gossip, time would tell.
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Back at the Rusty Dragon, the four took stock of their new freedom and possible options. Figgy made it clear that if they wanted to seperate or move on, he would not take it badly. The others, though, seemed unwilling. Though all three had homes they hoped one day to see again, they were a long way away and in this distant land, the bond of oar-mates was their only trust. "I feel safe - safer anyway - for the first time in I don't know how long," said Jord. Rulf noddded. "This is a good town. We can do things here, perhaps find a place." So it was agreed.
Their hostess appeared with the dinner at that point, and when asked explained about the festival on the morrow. The consecration of the new cathederal had been timed for the annual Swallowtail Festival, and the whole village would be celebrating. The whole day would be given over to song, dance, entertainment and free food and drink. The four were not religious people, especially, but this sounded all right to them.
When they asked for a bath and discovered that the Rusty Dragon had one, it really did seem that their fortunes had turned. Even Ameiko's gentle suggestion that they go and see Rynshinn Povalli at Vernah’s Fine Clothing (their own clothes were little short of rags) wasn't enough to dent the mood.
The next day dawned bright and clear, and the Swallowtail Festival began.
The square before the church quickly became crowded as locals and travelers arrived, and several merchant tents featuring food, clothes, local crafts, and souvenirs were there to meet them.
The turnout for the opening speeches was quite respectable, and the four keynote speakers each delivered short but well-received welcomes to the festival. Mayor Deverin’s friendly attitude and excitement proved contagious as she welcomed visitors to town and joked 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 but Larz’s amusement.
Sheriff Hemlock brought 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 five years ago.
Fortunately, Cyrdak Drokkus was more than up to the challenge of bringing the crowd’s mood back up with his rousing anecdotes as he delivered 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 self-promotion at the end, as was 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 stepped up give a short speech thanking everyone for coming before declaring the Swallowtail Festival underway.
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At noon, Father Zantus and his acolytes wheeled a large covered wagon into the square, and after recounting the short parable of how Belisama first fell to earth and was nursed back to health by a blind child who she transformed into an immortal butterfly as a reward for her aid, they pulled aside the wagon’s cover, releasing the thousand children of Belisama — a furious storm of a thousand swallowtail butterflies that swarmed into the air in a spiraling riot of color to a great cheer from the crowd. Throughout the rest of the day, children futilely chased butterflies, never quite quick enough to catch them.
Lunch was provided free, at the expense of Sandpoint’s taverns. Each brought its best dishes—this event was a marketing push by the taverns as much to win new customers as it was to feed a hungry crowd. It soon became apparent that the darling of the lunch was, once again, Ameiko Kaijitsu, whose remarkable curry-spiced salmon and early winterdrop mead easily overshadowed the other offerings, such as the Hagfish’s lobster chowder or the White Deer’s peppercorn venison.
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Finally, at twilight, Father Zantus ascended the steps outside the new temple and triggered a Thunderstone to attract the crowd's attention.
A sharp retort, like the crack of distant thunder, sliced through the excited crowd as the sun’s setting rays paint the western sky. A stray dog that has crawled under a nearby wagon to sleep started awake, and the buzz of two dozen conversations quickly hushed as all heads turned toward the central podium, where a beaming Father Zantus had taken the stage. He cleared his throat, took a breath to speak, and suddenly a woman’s scream sliced through the air. A few moments later, another scream came, then another. Beyond them, a sudden surge of strange new voices arose—high-pitched, tittering shrieks that sounded not quite human. The crowd parted and something low to the ground raced by, giggling with disturbing glee as the stray dog gave a pained yelp and then collapsed with a gurgle, its throat cut open from ear to ear. As blood pooled around its head, the raucous sound of a strange song began, chanted from shrill, scratchy voices.
Figgy, Rulf, Jord and Sumael glanced at each other, and reached for their weapons. Despite their harsh lives up to now, their first urge was to protect the innocent, and all four moved to defend the villagers without a second thought.
| The Goblin Song Goblins chew and goblins bite. Goblins cut and goblins fight. Stab the dog and cut the horse, Goblins eat and take by force! Goblins race and goblins jump. Goblins slash and goblins bump. Burn the skin and mash the head, Goblins here and you be dead! Chase the baby, catch the pup. Bonk the head to shut it up. Bones be cracked, flesh be stewed, We be goblins! You be food! |
As the small humanoids swirled, leaped and danced through the crowd, cutting, striking and giggling, Figgy recognized them as goblins. A dim memory surfaced, and he realized that their language was pretty much the same as one of those he'd learned as a child. They were goblins!
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He spun as one leaped onto the trader's stall next to him, waving its' short, crude blade over its' head. A dogslicer, they call it, he recalled. He brought his blade up to parry but the goblin's attention was distracted by the kebabs it was standing in, and it ducked down to sieze a handful and stuff it into its' mouth. Figgy's strike went over its' head as it did so, and it bounded away, giggling as another one slashed the half-orc across the legs. A cry from Sumael showed she too had been hurt, and curses from the others confirmed that the agility and small size of the creatures made them very tough to hit.
Figgy, Jord and Rulf made a loose triangle around Sumael, Father Zantus and a couple of civilians, and fought doggedly to keep them protected as they worked towards the cathederal door. The priest healed Sumael's injury, after which she began throwing her slim knives at goblins that came too close. Finally, the group reached the steps and the civilians disappeared inside the building, allowing the three to concentrate better. After that, they began to take a toll of the goblins until - all at once - they broke and scuttled away, still chittering and shrieking.
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Around, they could see that the village guards and members of the militia had also managed to beat back their attackers, though a few still bodies showed that this had not been without cost. The strange chanting was still audible, and flames bloomed here and there as the crackpot goblins randomly set fire to things. Glancing around, the three spotted the source of the song - a goblin standing on a wall, clearly and unpleasantly female, some sort of bard or warchanter.
It didn't take a genius to realize that her chanting was boosting the goblins in some way, and Jord and Figgy reached for their bows. Arrows flashed across the town square and the warchanter toppled backwards out of sight. Immediately, the ferocity of the goblin attack decreased and the hideous little creatures began to retreat. Some, it was learned afterwards, cornered near the cliffs, actually leaped off rather than be captured, appearing confident they would survive the fall. They were wrong.
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The party's attention was diverted by a male voice yelling in terror and a ferocious barking. Dashing toward the noise, they discovered one goblin who hadn't fled, mounted on a horrific creature half-way between a dog and lizard, confronting a large hunting dog which was defending a young man who was cowering behind a water-barrel. As they arrived, it switched its' attention to them and they gave it a shower of missiles before switching to blades as it arrived.
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The three spread out, flanking the creatures, and attacked from three sides at once - supported by the hunting dog, which leaped out to join the fight. Rather to his own surprise, Jord neatly slashed the goblin commando off the top of the goblin dog, which attempted to bite him but was nailed to the ground by Rulf's trusty spear.
As the monsters expired, the human unfolded himself from behind the water-butt, brushing his rather fine clothes and thanking them profusely in cultured and well-educated tones.
He named himself Aldern Foxglove, and trailed after the battered group, continuing to re-iterate his thanks and insisting the party call on him at "his inn" (actually, the Rusty Dragon, the same as theirs), so he could express his gratitude properly.
Figgy and his friends had no energy to spare to cope with this, so they nodded vaguely and headed back to the cathederal to collect Sumael and look for some medical assistance.