Prelude: Daybreak

[Blue Firebird]

Prelude: At Daybreak

OST: Guardia Millennial Fair

For the past few weeks, caravans have been a common sight on the trails west and north of Sunrise. Captain Garen and the guard have redoubled their efforts to deal with bandits and monsters in the hills. This is a special time: once every 50 years, Sunrise puts on its Daybreak Festival. Honoring the enduring timeline of the little village, as well as the unique gifts of the region, Daybreak is a celebration of life itself.

 

Vendor stalls line the banks of the river and the town roads, full of fruits and delicacies, crafts made all over the region, and things from as far as Baldur's Gate. Others offer what trinkets and treasures they dredged up from the Fields (or bartered for), trying their best to ignore Mayhew's glares. Local favorites meet imports and new surprises from around the region, and often the wilder peoples show up here: the friendlier Orc tribes of the mountains, the minotaurs of the plains, and others.

 

The Daybreak Festival, which lasts for several days, is truly a time of joy and community. Sunrise sleeps in the shadows of legends for most of its life. During these days, those legends are reborn—if only in song and craft for a little while.

 

On the morning of the festival, fireworks greet the dawn. Most in the area are up already, excited to see the festivities. After all, a generation has passed since the last festival, and those who remember it have become like beacons of wisdom and entertainment. Children line up to hear the tales of the wild things that occurred at the last festival, eagerly anticipating what might happen at this one.

 

The quiet town is suddenly bustling with activity and noise. Voices raised in mirth and merriment. The chatter and sounds of animals. The clink and clank of games, fun activities, and the endless meals everyone you look. Tents and pavilions set up in and around the town offer an inviting glow of fire and a variety of wares or fun. The scents of delicious baked treats and steaming hot stews waft through the air, enticing hungry partygoers. Stalls laden with exotic spices, flowers, and foraged goods give recipes new and exciting flavors.

 

Contests of archery and fitness fill the fields north of the city. Games of chance and prowess advertised by colorful signs and charismatic hosts tempt coin from passersby. Every so often, a clank and a round of cheers denote success at some game or another, and a happy child or rosy-cheeked partner walks away with a well-earned prize. Near the center of town, a particularly proud, bespectacled Elven inventor and her intimidating golem Gato chop wood with magitech-powered efficiency, and many stout woodsmen challenge Gato to a contest. Cheers, jeers, and cries of agony signal each contest—and each defeat!

 

From sunrise to sunset, the Daybreak Festival is a time of plenty and pleasantry for all.

 

 

---

OOC

Welcome to the Daybreak Festival! This is a short, fun prelude scene to help us get our feet wet. There are lots of games, market stalls, and more here. This is a downtime scene, and a roleplaying scene, although there are opportunities for rolls and rules. For example:

• Archery contests or challenging Gato to wood-choping cost a silver piece each and award prizes depending on how far you get.
• Hazel Rosebloom's House of Illusions is a special tent set up with a variety of spine-tingling illusions for festival-goers to challenge for fame and prizes.
• Animal races include the larger raptor-kin of the northern fields, ridden by enthusiastic amateurs.
• Other games of chance, like ring-tosses, dart throws, and more. Feel free to suggest some! If you have a need to, we can roll for it, often Athletics, Reflex, or a relevant knowledge skill.
• Mostly, just have fun! You can feel free to get descriptive, post interactions with NPCs you've created, or seek out some of the more well-known characters around town. This is a pretty free scene. When you first arrive, assume that it's a lot of hustle and bustle. Where you go from there is up to you!

[Alex Sloane]

Mehri

---

Human • Maestro • Bard 1
Medium • Neutral Good • Humanoid

AC: 16 | HP 17/17 | Fort +4 Ref +5 Will +7 | Resistance: None | Speed 25 feet | Class DC 14
Shortbow +5 1d6 P, Shortsword +5 1d6 P/S

Deception +7, Diplomacy +7, Medicine +6, Nature + 5Natural Medicine: You can apply natural cures to heal your allies. You can use Nature instead of Medicine to Treat Wounds. If you’re in the wilderness, you might have easier access to fresh ingredients, allowing you to gain a +2 circumstance bonus to your check to Treat Wounds using Nature, subject to the GM’s determination. , Occultism +3, Performance +7, Society 3, Stealth +5, Survival +6, Thievery +2, Lore +3

The Daybreak Festival. For some, this was a once in a lifetime chance to enjoy the festival. For others, this was a festival that came and went as often as the wind changed. For Mehri? This was a time to both enjoy herself and be alert for injuries that would inevitably happen. She was sure that her father was working the medical tent in case someone decided to take an axe to the leg (Gods forbid), but she wanted to make sure that things she could handle were handled by her.

 

Despite her diligence though, she felt herself being drawn toward the archery competitions. She had no need to use her bow must days save maybe to scare away the occasional wild animal, but that certainly didn't stop her from trying. As she approached, she made sure to keep behind the safe line and call out in a happy, somewhat excitable voice, "Over here! I'd like to join a quick competition!" She calls out. "I've not had the chance to test out my skills with a bow in some time. So I think this will be a great chance to see!"

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Actions:

[saithor]

Salva Duvraine

---

Human (Drommar)• Farmhand • Monk 1
Medium • Lawful Good • Humanoid

AC: 19 | HP 20/20 | Fort +7 Ref +9 Will +6 | Resistance: None | Speed 25 feet | Class DC 14

It'd been a backbreaking three days of work, helping get the animals here, but finally Salva could kick back and relax after dealing with getting her family's assortment of animals they wanted to sell over to the festival. No animals being slaughtered, so mostly just herding everything and the occasional wrestling of a particularly ornery pig or cow. Now her and her siblings were set off the festival itself. This time they might not need to uproot themselves, so best to get to know some of their hopefully permanent neighbors in the town proper.

Of course, now that she had time off, the only question was what to do with it? She could hear someone calling from the north fields, something about having an archery contest. Might be fun. "I'd be willing to give you a challenge, but truth be told I'm not too experienced with these things," She admits to the golden-haired girl already standing there as Salva grabs a bow to use. They mostly chase predators of with spears and farming tools on the family farm, a bow was something of an investment her newly arrived family hadn't made yet. "You're the healer's daughter right? Mori? Bit new in town, sorry if I got that wrong. Only been here a few weeks."

---

Actions:

[Zen Gypsy]

Vharak, Ilmateri Martyr

AC: 18 | HIT POINTS: 23 | CURRENT: 23 | HERO POINTS: 1

FORTITUDE: +6 | REFLEX: +7 | WILL: +6 | PERCEPTION: +4

FOCUS POINTS: 1 | CURRENT: 1

ACTIVE EFFECTS: None.

CONDITIONS: None.

---

Vharak had enjoyed his time in Sunrise, it was bright and crisp, as compared to the dreary stone, and sewage laden canals of the Outer City where Father Brask was trying to rebuild the Chapel he had established there. The time spent at Saint Serphine's had taught him how to channel his Mor'dosh strength, that frenzied aggression he, at times, felt beneath the surface, how to temper it with compassion and mercy, to protect rather than conquer. His time there was regimented, morning prayer, devotions, training, meals, labor, prayer, devotions, training, meal, prayers to be repeated again the following day. In time, Father Brask visited the Monastery, and spoke with Sister Cassandra, he was released from his training, and Brask, eager to have the young Ilmateri experience the wider world arranged to have the lad apprenticed with a herbalist whom Brask had become acquainted with during his various pilgrimages.

And so, three months ago, Vharak had arrived at Sunrise, seeking out Master Gunther, an aged, Chondathan, man, his hands gnarled like old, weathered oak, his back bent, like a willow, under it's own weight. Gunter, however, was different from both Father Brask and Sister Cassandra, for he was kind, compassionate, but given to bawdy humor, the ancient herbalist welcomed the youth and opened opened his hovel, located on the eastern bank of the Chionthar, in the fringes of the Sharp Teeth.

So it was that after a successful night of gathering Goldberries from the bank of the river, and a satchel of arlan leaf and ironsplit root, curatives used in healing ailments and injuries. Gunther had shooed the youth out of the hovel, likely to open his, not so hidden, stash of herbal liquor, urging him to enjoy a few days in Sunrise for the Daybreak Festival. The young orc's head cocked as he got closer to town, the savory smell of spiced meats greeted him, brightly colored stalls were set up along the banks of the river, and the heady scent of cooking fires, mixed with the smell of roasting meat, unfamiliar spices, the comforting scent of fresh baked bread, and the mouth-watering sweetness of pastry and sweetened fruits. Gunther had asked him to deliver the herbs to the local healer, Master Allayblossom, but Vharak would have to walk past the village to get to the herbalist's home, so he might as well stop and grab some mid-morning snacks, an exchange of coins, and Vharak's hands were full, carefully balancing a spiced potato, a fruit-filled pastry, and two skewers of spiced boar meat. It would tide him over until lunch, as he wandered along the lane towards the Allayblossom homestead, he noted an archery stall with a young drommar girl, a new family setting up a stead outside of Sunrise, she seemed to be speaking with a red-haired girl, the town's herbalist's daughter, he thought.

Between mouthfuls of delicious food, he smiled a wide, toothy grin, "Morning! Oh! Mehri! I have old Gunther's shipment for your father. Is he home?" As he paused, he stuffed half of a spiced potato into his mouth, munching it noisily as he put down his staff, on which was tied the satchel of herbs.

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[Alex Sloane]

 

Mehri

---

Human • Maestro • Bard 1
Medium • Neutral Good • Humanoid

AC: 16 | HP 17/17 | Fort +4 Ref +5 Will +7 | Resistance: None | Speed 25 feet | Class DC 14
Shortbow +5 1d6 P, Shortsword +5 1d6 P/S

Deception +7, Diplomacy +7, Medicine +6, Nature + 5Natural Medicine: You can apply natural cures to heal your allies. You can use Nature instead of Medicine to Treat Wounds. If you’re in the wilderness, you might have easier access to fresh ingredients, allowing you to gain a +2 circumstance bonus to your check to Treat Wounds using Nature, subject to the GM’s determination. , Occultism +3, Performance +7, Society 3, Stealth +5, Survival +6, Thievery +2, Lore +3

Mehri would perk up as she hears a less-familiar voice reach ehr ears. She moves to look at a half-orc woman who seems ready to strike up a bit of friendly competition and conversation. Mehri grabs a bow as well before shaking her head, "Oh, there's no pressure on any of these games or competitions. I'm not a hunter or anything so I'm not really experienced with a bow. I mostly just use it to shoot a couple of arrows at logs or scare off some nasty beasts now and then."

Hearing the comments about her name and how long the woman had been here, her mind seems to slot in who she's talking to, "Oh! You must be part of the family just moved here. The Duvraine family, right? That would make you Salva, right? Sorry, my dad has some of the older folks stop by for a quick check up and to ask if there's any medicine they'll need so I overheard your name. So you were right, my dad is the town healer. As for my name, it's Mehri. You got the second part right just the first part is said like 'may' like mayflower." She explains.

Directly after she finishes, another more familiar voice calls to her. She turns to see Vharak and waves with a warm smile extending more across her face, "Hey Vharak! Dad's over in the medical tent right now. So you just missed him. I can show you where he is or take the shipment to him, but why not join me and Salva in a small bout of archery? The more the merrier after all!"

---

Actions:

[Mourning Star]

Alba Thompson the cooper's daughter Description: 12-14 years old, short, athletic; fin-like ears, scales and gills on her neck; deep blue eyes, white hair with flecks of blue and green, tied back into a pony Dress: clean and pressed white tunic; moderately worn blue pantaloons; clean black leather boots Weaponry: none

---

"Do you see her, Grant?" Alba Thompson asked her father, tugging him through the crowds by his hand. "There's so many people!" She stopped to look around, her gills flaring in agitation.

"Baldur's Gate's a big city, Alba. You'll find her," Grant Thompson said patiently, scratching at his gray beard and moving his gaze across the masses. "You just have to look. Why don't you—"

"I am looking! Ugh!" Alba grunted in frustration. "It's like trying to find a booger in the bilge!"

Grant sighed and shook his head. "Al..."

"Where's Mr. Everbright's tent?" Alba continued, oblivious of her father's disapproval. "He'll know where she's at. Besides, it'll give you someone to talk to."

Grant burst into hearty laughter, his aged face creasing sharply. "Oh-ho! You're going to have old Mayhew babysit me, are you? Too embarrassed to go the fair with your old man?"

"No, Grant," Alba said plainly, still looking around the crowds. "You'll get bored. You didn't even want to come to Baldur's Gate. Besides, you like talking to Mayhew."

"Mr. Everbright," Grant corrected her.

"Mr. Everbright. Where's he at, anyways?"

"I don't know, Al. I just got here, same as you. Why don't you go play yourself some games? Make a few friends. We'll be here all day."

"I already got a friend," the girl retorted. "And I can't find her for nothing! She's probably winning some tournament she found or something. Where is she?"

Grant opened his mouth, but then snapped it closed again. He looked down at Alba, a shadow of sadness on his face.

"Okay, Alba. I'll make you a friendly sailor's wager. Mark where we're at. See the candy floss stand? Now, you go off and play one of those games. Any game you like. But don't come back 'til you won something. I'll ask around for Mayhew's tent so he can help you track down Mina. And I won't come back 'til I find out where he is. Whoever gets back first..." He paused in contemplation.

Alba looked up with a fiercely determined look on her face. "Whoever gets back first gets out of dinner duty for a week when we get back home!" Grinning from ear to ear, she thrust her hand out.

With a smile, Grant clasped his daughter's hand firmly in his own, and leaned down to her, face-to-face. "You're on, matey!"

—————

It wasn't long before Alba discovered a game suited to her tastes, the apple-barrel toss. She wasn't sure of the details, but the game involved pitching apples into a pony keg barrel from ten strides away.

She started towards the admission booth, but paused. There was a boy—a human boy—at the pitching line, trying his hand at the game. Alba unconsciously touched the scales on the back of her neck and stared, her gills reddening as she did. For more than a few moments she stood there, her gaze drifting from person to person, all of them kids her age. Her gills widened even more.

After a few more moments Alba shook off her reverie and pressed her palms to the sides of her neck, smoothing her gills back into place. She looked back towards the candy floss stand. Grant was gone.

Heaving a sigh of resignation she moved to the end of the admission line and waited. In front of her was a halfling girl wearing a brand new pair of coveralls. When she heard Alba she turned around and smiled. "Hi. I'm Strobble. What's your name?"

Character Vitals

Will populate this as needed.

Edited December 5, 2023 by Mourning Star (see edit history)

[TheWhitefire]

Shayla
Shayla - Human (Skilled) - Cultist
Witch 1 | Neutral Good | Female | The Dusk Mother

 

Shayla was tending their booth, as they often did during such festivals. As also often happened, some farmers looked upon her bounteous harvest with a mixture of jealousy and local pride. After all, if such a waif of a girl could bring in such a harvest on their own from such blighted lands as hers, anyone could.

For Shayla, however, this was simply business as usual. Quietly they knitted a woollen vest behind their booth, smiling warmly at passers by. The real festival would not begin for Shayla until sundown, of course, as it always did.

[Zen Gypsy]

Vharak, Ilmateri Martyr

AC: 18 | HIT POINTS: 23 | CURRENT: 23 | HERO POINTS: 1

FORTITUDE: +6 | REFLEX: +7 | WILL: +6 | PERCEPTION: +4

FOCUS POINTS: 1 | CURRENT: 1

ACTIVE EFFECTS: None.

CONDITIONS: None.

---

11 hours ago, Alex Sloane said:

 

Mehri

---

Directly after she finishes, another more familiar voice calls to her. She turns to see Vharak and waves with a warm smile extending more across her face, "Hey Vharak! Dad's over in the medical tent right now. So you just missed him. I can show you where he is or take the shipment to him, but why not join me and Salva in a small bout of archery? The more the merrier after all!"

---

 

Vharak regarded the auburn haired young woman, responding around a mouthful of roasted boar meat, "Never had to hunt, found what I needed by begging in the gutters, then donations given the chapel by the sick." Munch, bite, tear, chew, chew. "So can't say I am much good," with a friendly shrug he pulled a dried apple from his rations and walked towards the two women, "But I can hold an apple and you two can try to hit it, if you want? Be good practice for me," he chuckled, "not getting shot that is." He remembered when Sister Cassandra forced him to withdraw from her flurry of strikes, he lost his balance and pitched over the monastery walls, near broke his ankle and had to walk with a limp for two months. Sister Cassandra said it was a lesson well learned, now he knew to advance around an assault, to redirect it rather than retreat from it. So holding an apple while two of his friends shot at it with arrows wasn't the most foolish thing he'd down. "But if either of you nick me, you're buying the first round tonight!"

 

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[Althrion]

Jack was wandering around, looking at the stands, people and lights with wide eyes, while munching away at a waffle. One of the many edible goods he had made in advance for the stand of the Cockerel's Clarion. In exchange he had been granted half a day off by Korri. A feat he was still proud of.
Not cooking that many pastries, waffles, stews and so on, but to actually get Korri to give him a half day off. Maybe he should finally start gambling.

The youngest of his siblings had recently reached the age of 16 and was able to stand on her own feet and maybe, just maybe he could finally pursue his own dreams.

 

Finally, the halfling with the content face, walking idly around, reached the archery stand, listening to the conversation.

"Sounds like a good way to give Mehri a opportunity to try her hands on an arrow wound." He said in response to the suggestion from Vharak, inserting himself into the conversation, before pulling out a chicken leg from one of his many pouches, and taking a bite.

[saithor]

Salva Duvraine

---

Human (Drommar)• Farmhand • Monk 1
Medium • Lawful Good • Humanoid

AC: 19 | HP 20/20 | Fort +7 Ref +9 Will +6 | Resistance: None | Speed 25 feet | Class DC 14

 

"Yeah, I ain't much of an archer either. Mostly use em to scare off beasties. Little easier than punching them till the varmints get the message of staying away from our livestock." Livestock was pretty much all her family had right now, and would for a while. They ended up having to leave so often investing in crops usually ended up being a bad move. Livestock could move with you. Or be carried at least. "Folks had some good things to say about your pa. Ain't as judgmental on the tusks and skin ma has that some others have been."

Salva was a little surprised to see another Drommar here. She thought her family were the only ones with orcish blood in their veins. What was more surprising was he wanted them to start shooting him with arrows. "Sorry, I'm a little new around here but is it usual to put yourself in a place where you're likely to end up squealing like a stuck hog? This seems to have all kinds of signs of us ending up trying to remove an arrow from some place on you that ain't supposed to have wood sticking out of it. You wanna get beat up or something like that, we can try it the old-fashioned way without having to bother trying to stick each other with pointed things, you hear?"

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[Zen Gypsy]

Vharak, Ilmateri Martyr

AC: 18 | HIT POINTS: 23 | CURRENT: 23 | HERO POINTS: 1

FORTITUDE: +6 | REFLEX: +7 | WILL: +6 | PERCEPTION: +4

FOCUS POINTS: 1 | CURRENT: 1

ACTIVE EFFECTS: None.

CONDITIONS: None.

---

Vharak laughed as the halfling called out his volunteering to hold the target, "I suppose I have more faith in their skill than you," and as Salva began speaking to him, he nodded towards her. "Or them, themselves." He shrugged, went back to his spiced boar skewer, "Offer still stands, though." He smiled a toothy grin, "And if you wish to spar, I would be honored. I've spent some time learning from the Sisters of St Serphine, it has helped me learn," he paused, his aggression, the violent tendencies of his peoples, the Mor'dosh Mal, to replace it with mercy, compassion and control. "Focus." He tossed the apple up, caught it, flipped it up behind his back, slipped his staff out of the satchel of herbs, spun low, stood up and with a whistle the staff sliced through the air, striking the apple, sending it flying out towards the river in a spray of pulped fruit.

"I noticed your family a few months back, just new to the area?" He asked, slipping the staff back into the satchel of herbs, slinging it over his shoulder. "I just got here a while back myself. My superiors in the Church had thought to apprentice me to the herbalist, old man Gunthor, out towards the Sharp Teeth Woods. If you or your folks needed help, I would be glad to help, could find grain and seeds, maybe get some flax or wheat for next year?"

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[Alex Sloane]

 

Mehri

 

---

Human • Maestro • Bard 1
Medium • Neutral Good • Humanoid

AC: 16 | HP 17/17 | Fort +4 Ref +5 Will +7 | Resistance: None | Speed 25 feet | Class DC 14
Shortbow +5 1d6 P, Shortsword +5 1d6 P/S

Deception +7, Diplomacy +7, Medicine +6, Nature + 5Natural Medicine: You can apply natural cures to heal your allies. You can use Nature instead of Medicine to Treat Wounds. If you’re in the wilderness, you might have easier access to fresh ingredients, allowing you to gain a +2 circumstance bonus to your check to Treat Wounds using Nature, subject to the GM’s determination. , Occultism +3, Performance +7, Society 3, Stealth +5, Survival +6, Thievery +2, Lore +3

Mehri hears all this and puts her hands up, "Let's just shoot at the targets down range. I do not want to have to go pulling an arrow out of someone tonight if we can at all avoid it. None of us here are archers, right? Let's all focus on the fact that we are near the archery range where they're holding the archery competition that we can take part in. Please?" She asks, not really liking the idea of shooting at anyone with an arrow tonight. She addresses Vharak first.

"I know you're tough and all, Vharak. But let's stick to the fun games that won't involve you needing patched up by me and my dad tonight, please? Even if dad and I are around, we're not able to cure every wound and work miracles. So please try to take care of yourself tonight." She sighs. Though, in the back of her mind she wonders if a miracle is something she might one day be able to work.

Turning back to Salva, she smiles, "No. It's not normal, per se. But it might be a bit normal for Vharak since he's commonly training to be tougher so sometimes my dad and I have to treat some of the leftover scratches left over on him." She sighs but it was more a playfully exasperated sigh than being actually annoyed. She then motions, "Dad isn't going to go judging anyone for being different. You're good people as far as he's concerned, and I don't really see anything different about you from most of the farmers and such around here. So long as you're good to the people here, you'll have a friend in me!"

Finally, Mehri turns to Jack, "Hey Jack. Please try not to encourage him. Though, it's good to see Korri gave you some time off so you could join the festivities. Normally see you working the stand." She tells him before looking to the three, "Okay, okay. How about this? Why don't we all try to do the archery challenge together? I'll pay the silvers for it if you're all willing to join up. I'm sure it'll be fun!" She suggests, pulling out four silvers as if trying to tempt Jack, Salva, and Vharak into a small little competition.

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[saithor]

Salva Duvraine

---

Human (Drommar)• Farmhand • Monk 1
Medium • Lawful Good • Humanoid

AC: 19 | HP 20/20 | Fort +7 Ref +9 Will +6 | Resistance: None | Speed 25 feet | Class DC 14

 

"A spar might be nice. Usually I spend most my time having to punch varmints, been a while since I've had a good fight with someone who ain't family. I'm a little too used to fighting only my siblings, a new opponent would make things fresh," She says to Vharak. "On getting some seeds, that's more a question for my ma and pa."

In response to Mehri she says "Yeah, it's good to be in a place like that. As for the archery, sure, but Vharak here has got me intrigued. You wanna referee? Or maybe you would, Jack was it? Any interest in officiating a little bare knuckle brawl?"

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[Althrion]

"You think they take me serious, Mehri?" Jack answered chuckling. "I will pass on the archery contest. Not much of a archer, when the bow is bigger than me. But I could officiate the little brawl."

He pointed with his half eaten chicken leg at Salva and Vharak.

"Listen closely as I explain the rules." Jack left a small pause to increase the tension and give them the chance to focus on him.

"Okay, the rules are, whoever wins will be declared victorious. I think that is fair."

He took another bite off his chicken leg, waiting for the brawl to start. He had seen his fair share of people doling it out with fists, but so far those have been his six siblings or some drunkards in the clarion. Two able bodied, sober combatants was something new for sure.

Edited December 5, 2023 by Althrion (see edit history)

[Mourning Star]

Alba Thompson the cooper's daughter Description: average height, athletic; fin-like ears, scales and gills on her neck; deep blue eyes, shortish white hair with flecks of blue and green Dress: clean beige linen work shirt; heavily worn brown duck pants; scuffed black leather boots Weaponry: none

---

"Alba." The word ached in her mind like an echo.

"Alba?" it repeated abruptly, startling Alba out of her daydream. She blinked, and Baldur's Gate was gone. Before her instead was the apple-barrel game of the Sunrise Daybreak Festival. She watched the children before her gleefully laughing and shouting as each apple was tossed. Alba frowned, and her gills closed completely, disappearing into the fish-like scales of her neck.

"Alba, dear, what's wrong with you!" the voice said again. It was scratchy and deep, its timbre similar to that of a frog or a boar.

Alba turned around to see Sally Edwards standing behind her. Sally was a local seamstress, an aged halfling woman whom Alba helped from time to time in exchange for boarding. In Sally's hands was a parcel of bundled paisley fabric, tightly bound with string. "Hi, Mrs. Edwards. I'm fine. I didn't bunk down well last night."

"Just Sally, dear. Just Sally." The old woman gazed out across the sea of people. "It's quite a sight, isn't it? Once every fifty years." She turned back to Alba. "Did Grant ever get to see it?"

Alba's eyes moved instinctively away, back towards the apple-barrel game. She shook her head slightly. "No. We only got here 'bout fifteen years ago." A long silence loomed, punctuated by a shrill squeal of joy from a particularly deft apple toss. Alba's eyes stayed locked onto the distant barrel. "Dad wouldn't have liked it anyways."

"Grant was a worker," said Sally half-apologetically. "It's the curse of the sailor, don't you know? They don't get time off out there. They all work, all the time, or they all die. They get so used to that life, they get restless if they stay in one place too long. They get bored."

A pained look passed over Alba's face, her eyes lowering.

"Oh, not you, dear. You were his best worst find. Good for him, bad for his crew. His little white bird, he called you."

This elicited a laugh from Alba. She looked over at the halfling, eyes shimmering. "Dad told you that?"

Sally nodded solemnly.

"Thanks, Mrs. Edwards. Hey, what did you need?"

"Oh!" The halfling held her parcel of fabric out before her. "I can't get this undone, Alba. I'm afraid my knots are too tight. Can you cut the strings?"

Alba fished into her pocket and pulled out a tarnished pocketknife with a seashell motif. As she worked the blade under the string, the halfling woman stood on her tiptoes and squinted. "Oh, isn't that a darling little knife. Where did you get it?"

"Baldur's Gate. A long time ago. I was just a little kid."

————

After helping Sally with her bundle, Alba purposefully walks across the festival grounds, towards the feasting area. She nods and greets more than a few people on the way, though she doesn't stop. When she finally reaches the tables, and she sees Mayhew Everbright sitting before a loaded plate, she pauses, fading away into another daydream. After a few moments she shakes if off, and moves to the seat across the table from him.

"Hey, Mr. Everbright. Where's Mina? It's like trying to find a booger in a bilge out here today."

 

Character Vitals

Will populate this as needed.