Felicitations, all! Caldor Gelvinac here with news of a new group of adventurers!
In Sandpoint, right in the midst of the Swallowtail Festival, a group of goblins sought to interrupt the festivities to inaugurate the gods’ blessings upon the new cathedral. Father Zantus tried admirably to calm the crowd, but there were four illustrious volunteers who took up arms against the green-skinned threat.
Marv, a human with grace like a cow and power of seventeen bulls, careened screaming into the fight as those around him shrieked in terror, his blade absolutely screaming a hymn of pain and death, every stanza a funeral dirge for the goblins.
Samhain, an elf with bow and blade seeking a bead from every angle, accompanied by his owl Buho, rained death from above by arrow and talon.
Vashda, a female of the gods, called upon the glory of her god to aid those around her before pulling an emblazoned starknife out and began to attack.
And finally, Laila, a stout changeling druid with her wolf, Gryff, took down their foes in a blaze of primal ferocity.
Once everyone was protected, the Heroes of the Festival valiantly ran to a faraway cry for help and found an elf there, Aldern Foxglove, a visitor from Magnimar. I did follow these warriors and their new friend, and they were rapidly invited to a boar hunt later in the week to exercise their thirst for adventure in a more, shall we say, civilized way. They sat to drink and talk, however their enjoyment was short lived.
As I reposed from a distance, this rakish bard didst see the Sheriff approach the heroes. After little time, the whole company left Messere Foxglove and hastened along to the graveyard of all places! It seemed that the remains of the late Cathedral head, Father Ezakien, had been taken! From my stance perched precariously beyond the cemetery gates, I could see no tracks, but Samhain and Gryff seemed to find some tracks leading from the crypt out of town. With no more to do on such a bleak and black night, they retired for the night at the inn.
The next morning, over reminiscing their previous day and trying to get to know these other fair folk who aided their formerlly personal endeavor to end the goblin threat, as much deliberation on what to do with any sort of reward, it appeared that Marv was accosted by a very lovely woman, adorned in scarlets and hues of blue which would attract any man’s eyes, my own included. She led him to her father’s shoppe to “clean out of rats”, though I think it was more to “flush out her ducts”. Alas, my jealousy was prepared to reach a climax, as was a certain thing of someone else’s, once her bodice came undone, but alas the whole dealing was lessened to naught when her father came down the stairs. Marv stood, entirely stunned and nearly speechless, yet managed to get himself away from the touchy situation, accompanied with a ban to ne’er return. Time will tell how this act will propagate through the town and help or hinder this group.
And finally, with the group rejoined, I spied upon an encounter most curious. It would seem the innkeeper and her father, having publicly been at odds before, exchanged a long series of words, some not too polite so I’m told. The language was beyond my comprehension, and by the look on their faces the same could be said for the heroes of the festival. Before I could guzzle my language comprehension tonic, the whole sordid ordeal was over and I was consequently treated to an excellent brew on compliments of the innkeeper.
So far, these are the notes as I have seen. More to come as these adventurers go on their path into history.
Your bardic scry in the field of the world,