Notices


At the Sawmill

   
At the Sawmill

The atmosphere down at the Sawmill is one of hearty, good natured, rough housing. The food contests here involve beer, spicy food and bets on who can eat the most the fastest or drink the most.... without puking. Lots of laughing, lots of sweating and lots of young men showing off for young women. There is no official stage or dancing area, but one of the houses along the houses across from the mill has a second floor that allowed access to the roof of it's neighbor. Some musicians claimed it as their stage early in the day and various players have changed through to continue playing for the crowd.

There are still butterflies everywhere, with cats and children and stumbling drunks following in their fluttery wake. Desna and the other gods of the harvest time are honored with carved symbols and painted marks on the walls. The day was hot and the sloping riverbank is a muddy mess from the number of festival goers who decided that swimming was a nice way to cool off. As the sun begins to set, half the crowd are coated with sweat from contests or dancing and the other half still hasn't dried off completely from swimming.

The scheduled event for sunset is the awarding of prizes. But, as is custom since the Swallowtail Festival has been celebrated in Sandpoint, the greased pole climb remains open for takers until the light of the sun no longer illuminates the brass plate set at the top. So the crowd is mostly gathered in a circle watching as the last contestants grapple with the pole, and one another.


Hukmen Dunir, Noshu Sadhi, Alleana and Grom

Please post for your characters. Let us know what you've been doing with your day and end up with being in the Swamill Area and what you are currently doing. If you wish to be part of the scramble for the top of the pole : You are barefoot, bare chested (or a simple shirt if you are modest) and can be in possession of no weapons. Through out the day people try one at a time, but the last scramble is a free for all. Not counting PCs, there are three men scrambling for the prize.

Grom's day.

The large half-orc wanders about the town taking in the scene. He is in an a long armored coat only belted closed by his sword belt, open and bare chested still damp from an earlier swim. Bastard sword and short sword on belt.

Offering a go at the greased pole at least once in the day two or three times if allowed. Definitely joins in the sled pull he has strength and mass which is always helpful. The stew are to his taste. Ale yes but no drinking contests. But there's always room for griddle cakes always. He will enjoy the events winning or loosing no big deal he is here to find, Shalelu and the free food is a bonus. The sheriff is to busy to bug at this point maybe in the morning or when things slow down a bit. As the crowd gathers for the last pole attempts, he drops belt and coat at the base. With a loud playful war-cry uses the shoulders of whomever is in front of him a step up for a good start. Then goes nowhere but to the bottom of the pile.

Acrobatics:
Dice Roll:
1d20+2
d20 Results: 14 (Total = 16)

Climb:
Dice Roll:
1d20+10
d20 Results: 1 (Total = 11)

Hukmen's Day Thus Far

The Swallowtail Festival was as memorable an event as he remembered. Throughout the day, he'd tried his hand at a game or two. His go with the greased pole had gone about as well as expected, given his average frame and muscle. He'd fared much better at log rolling, as he had something of a supernatural edge in regards to the need for dexterity. Ultimately, he hadn't won, but he'd still quite enjoyed participating in general. After that, he'd spent a good deal of the day in a state of music appreciation as the various artists had claimed and given to others the impromptu stage atop the neighboring buildings, and twice had he danced; once at his own asking of a fine young lady who had been watching the dancing of others with longing, but who appeared to have yet been asked to do so (though certainly such an invitation was an inevitability, as he himself evidenced), and the second time at the request of a little girl who found him an interesting sight amongst the throng of humans. It was a bit of a challenge dancing with one who is approximately a little more than half your height, but they had managed and she had scurried off afterward with a smile on her face. As the sun was just beginning to set, he finds himself again at the greased pole, for the final free-for-all go at the reward at the top. He had decided against participating in this last hurrah, and the addition of an impressively muscled half-orc to the fray only convinced him that his decision was all the wiser.

Still, this would be something to behold.



The atmosphere of cheer and good play was infectious. Having come to Sandport the same way she entered most towns, by coincidence, Noshu had never intended to join in the celebration. But one did not simply stare at food, drink, and music from a distance. Seeing other people eat freely and heartily inspired her to eat more. When strangers thrust mugs of ale into her hand, it was impossible not to drink it. And at some point during the night, she realized her maul and hide had been abandoned at a tavern whose sign she had barely looked at, and which she would probably have to search out in the morning when she was no longer hung-over. Her coin and smaller valuables were in a pouch, and all she kept on her was a dagger on her breech-cloth skirt.

However, when the final dash for the pole came, even that was abandoned, as was the shirt off of Noshu's back. The pole was an amazing invention, the pinnacle of the modern world. It proved that however strange and foreign cityfolk might be, they were surely not all bad. Only an insightful and benevolent race would have created that upright device, greased it, and then allowed whoever might come this way to climb it.

Bare-chested and red-faced from the alcohol, Noshu let out a terrible howl that was more animal than human, and charged after the pole, managing to leap nearly all of her diminutive height as she pounced amidst the contenders onto the pole.


Add one half-naked half-elf to the mix who appeared to be quite capable of strong-arming her competition and things get even more interesting. Why, if he were more confident in his own physical abilities, he might have just joined in, though he was clearly out-muscled. Between the half-orc, the half-elf, and the two brawny woodsmen, he clearly stood no chance, though there was something to be said for the stumbling drunk whose facilities were most definitely impaired by alcohol consumption.

Hukmen couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit mischievous, given the general atmosphere of the entire festival, and slinging a magic mudball or two was ultimately harmless, but still this was meant to be a sporting event. So it would remain. At least, until the other observers started to pitch their own orbs of mud. If and when that did happen, he might just feel compelled enough to join.


Alleana
Alleana had had a wonderful day. She had found it hard to sleep the night before due to excitement and had gotten up early in the morning. She had made some prayers to Desna, and headed off to tour the town, enjoying the friendliness, the music, the excitement. It was all wonderful and heady. She knew most of the people by sight and some were friends and acquaintances. She had shared some dances and tasty sweet treats with people and enjoyed many laughs. It was a great day.

As the day progressed, she had gravitated towards the sawmill area. As far as she was concerned, that was probably the best party and where most of the people she knew would be. Besides, she wanted to try her hand at the greasy pole. She was naturally quite nimble and felt she had a fair chance.

Once there she saw quite a number of stangers to the town, and watched the people try the pole during the day. She knew she was going to get muddy though so decided to wait until the end before making her attempts.

Watching the fray, she removed her shirt and dropped her boots under a pile of planks, and made a swift dash for the pole, vaulting up as she reached it to
Dice Roll: 1d20+7z
d20 Results: 9 (Total = 16)
acrobatically propel (16) herself up the pole and start the
Dice Roll: 1d20+6z
d20 Results: 14 (Total = 20)
climb (20) up the pole, hoping to get out of reach of the brawlers before they had a chance to catch her.

After a few minutes, add one fair-faced elf, stir liberally, and you have the greased pole's final contest. Assuming, of course, no one else decides to jump in and make the final go any more of a cluster than it has already become. He gives an applauding whistle when the elf maiden leaped in and made with a nimble attempt at reaching the pole. It hadn't been very long at all and this whole mess had already swiftly evolved into something that was proving highly entertaining to watch.

Round One : Goblins and Girls on Fire

The crowd whoops and cheers, greatly appreciating the sudden loss of shirts by the two female contestants. The cheering continues as various members of the crowd shout encouragement, or offers of companionship. Down at the south end there is no thoughts of trying to stop the current scramble, even if it delays their ceremony. Legs are pulled, mud is thrown, bodies scramble and tumble. But in the end there is a pile of laughing, cheering, gasping for breath, contestants laying in a dog pile at the base of the pole.

The thundering clap of the ceremony opening at the Temple cuts through the crowd. Then everyone cheers anew as the contestants help one another to their feet. And that is when the screaming starts.

All eyes are drawn to the cooking area at the north end of the sawmill. A woman stumbles, flailing and screaming as flames shoot up, engulfing her. And what first looks like a cooking accident of some sort soon proves to be otherwise as goblins hop up on the counter. One goblin holds a frying pan, still dripping with flaming oil that he had dumped on the scullery maid. Two others have snatched up tongs and are flinging hot coals and burning chunks of wood at the crowd. A fourth goblin, behind the others, is stuffing handfuls of stew into his mouth as fast as he can.

The crowd seems shocked, most of them unable to move. A few men stumble into a run towards the girl.


Begin Round One

Hukmen : You are closest to the goblins and the girl. On the edge of the crowd around the pole, you have a fairly unobstructed run at either. The goblins are about thirty to thirty five feet away. The girl is twenty feet away and stumbling in your direction. Her hair and back is on fire.

Noshu Sadhi, Alleana and Grom : You are all more or less standing. You are about fifty feet away from the goblins, which would make you forty feet away from the flaming girl. But there is a crowd of people surrounding the pole making it difficult for you to move. So for about fifteen feet of travel you will be at half speed unless you have some means of bypassing the crowd.



Goblin Initiative

Goblin Fry Cook:
Dice Roll:
1d20+6
d20 Results: 7 (Total = 13)

Goblin Coal Chucker:
Dice Roll:
1d20+6
d20 Results: 20 (Total = 26)

Goblin Log Thrower:
Dice Roll:
1d20+6
d20 Results: 15 (Total = 21)

Goblin Greedy:
Dice Roll:
1d20+6
d20 Results: 17 (Total = 23)




 

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