Deliverance Day: Feasts and Fools

Blide pushed and bobbed her way through the surging crowd around her, looking to navigate the chaotic tides of Vynnetian life. Whenever a gap opened like a pocket of air, she dashed for it and went along with the flow which took her in what she hoped was the right direction. Vynne was a tangled, twisting hive of narrow winding alleys, great wide boulevards, and waterlogged canals and bridges which seemed to never take you to the same place twice. Even spending so much time in Vynne, it was easy to get lost.

When another pause in her journey came, Blide heard a figure call out to her,

"Ah, Domine!" an elderly gnome dressed in green and gold robes called out from behind a stall. His hair was a two-toned shade of metallic blue - dark and dull on one side, light and shimmering on the other, with only the thinnest signs of grey wearing through the colour, matching the sharp beard and mustache he sported. One eye was a vibrant shade of lavender, while the other was milk-white with a pronounced cataract it seemed even magic was unable to heal. When he smiled, what few teeth remained were stained various grades of yellow. He was, in all respect, a gnome who made no effort to hide that he was old and worn. And yet he carried himself with the energy of a gnome a quarter of his perceived age.



"Good Domine, please come!" the gnome repeated, gesturing with stubby fingers tipped with gold-lacquered nails. "Come see the fine wares that Gibbler has to offer!"

Laid out on the table in front of the gnome was an array of trinkets and ornaments; each one done up with interlocking patterns of gold and silver filigree. The layers inside some of the baubles turned in opposing directions, and gaps in the lacework one could see a bright light shifting from red to blue to green, gold and violet. Another was an intricate time-keeping piece, with the planets and stars laid out in astrological circles, spinning around each other like a children's game.

The gnome rubbed his manicured hands together, "I prefer to work in coin myself, Domina, but I have been known to strike a deal from time to time. And in honor of the holiday, I promise you a fair deal!"

Blide scanned the contents of the cluttered table. The trinkets crowding the purple tablecloth were equal parts stunning, intricate... and utterly useless. A few time-keeping devices that could be put on a table, but most of it were ornaments whose only function was to display how expensive they had been. Wares that were meant more to ensnare a bored merchant or noble than a poor doctor.

Finally, before she was about to leave, her hand graced across the smooth surface of a small wooden box. The polished cherry yielded to her gentlest touch, and the lid popped open to reveal an alabaster figure emerging from the center of a painted sunflower. As the figure turned on her pointed toes and all the petals and internal mechanisms began their own melodic dance, a gentle tune played from within. It's melody cut through the general cacophony of the crowd around Blide, as if playing a tune only for her. As if Blide and that music box were the only things left in the world.

She could not find the words to describe how she felt when the song played. Even when she finally closed the box, the feeling lingered on. It felt... nostalgic? Yet she could not remember hearing it before.

Tapping slender fingers on the lid of the small music box Blide glanced up at the Gnome, with a bit of a sheepish smile she tried her hand at haggling. "If you allow me the music box, for 4...No! 5 Copper, on top of that I will offer my healing services to you, for free." it killed her to think that she was spending friviously on a trinket and paying the Merchant for a free treatment, but the box and it's song called to her stiring long forgotten memmories she couldn't begin to recall. Blide needed it, and she would have something precious all to herself. 

Standing tall, at her 5'3" height, she extended her hand and waited for the Gnome to accept or decline her terms.    

Analyzing the merchants wares, Vecchio was considering whether it was worth the effort. While the trinkets looked fancy and all, they are still trinkets and probably worth half the gold he was carrying depending on the buyers he's dealt with.

After a good 10 seconds, Vecchio's stomach reminded him of the meal he had still yet to purchase. Turning his head towards the lady, he nodded and pulled out one gold from his bag. "Thank you so much for your kindness. Keep the change." Then an idea struck him as he looked at the space behind the stalls.

Vecchio walked past the stall to the fountain behind it and sat on the edge. "Is it ok if I sit here to eat this delicious looking meal?" he asked the pasta vendor. "I've been hungry all morning and I just need to sit down to enjoy it."

Vecchio makes a persuasion check to sit behind the stall:

1d20 (15) + 3
Result: 18

The vendor sported a wide toothy grin, "Of course, dearie! Sit wherever you'd like." She flashed him a conspiratorial wink and went back to serving another patron.

From his current vantage point, Vecchio could see a small box beneath the opposing vendor stall. It looked just the right size to be the trinket seller's register.

And at the moment, the vendor was occupied with his customer.

Gibbler leaned in and examined the potion that Blide held out for him. Rubbing his hand through his beard, Gibbler turned to her with a smile, "Well, it would be cutting me own throat... but you drive a hard bargain between the coins and potion!" His eyes twinkled at the possibilities. "I'll take both and we have a deal!"

Gibbler gasped as the table beneath him began to buckle under an unexpected tremor. His hands were quick to support the table, but he was unable to stabilize it in time before a few of the lighter and top-heavier pieces spilled onto the ground. A stream of filthy words left the gnome; ranging from flowing elven epitaphs to a guttural one from a far-off orc clan that had never been absorbed into the old empire. A lifetime of being on the road gave one an advantage in colourful tongues.

Shaking his head, Gibbler clamoured to collect the fallen pieces, chancing a quick glance to Blide, "Can you help me get these, please?"

The stack of crates and barrels that Vecchio found to climb up to the roof of one of the smaller shops looked secure enough when he walked over and tested it. However, the moment he scaled the first and began to make his way to the second, the barrel he had used for a boost rolled out from under him, sending the tiefling careening to the cobblestone street.

Despite the initial shock of pain from his landing, a quick check of his person found that the worst injury Vecchio suffered was to his pride. A skinned knee and sore bottom, maybe, but nothing that would hamper his movements or be remembered once the pain subsided.

Instead, Vecchio noticed that his actions had drawn some attention from the crowded street. Or particular notice were the trio of guardsmen just down the street, sitting to lunch at a cafe. From their dress, the three were not professionals - merely part-time levies called up for short rotations or when extra bodies were needed on days like today. Only the eldest, a grizzled gray tiefling with a missing horn, even wore chainmail. For the moment, however, none of the guards had gotten up from their meal.

The sun begins to rise once again over the city of Vynne. The crisp morning air being a stark contrast to the heat and humidity that comes with the compressed masses of people converging upon the markets. This was one of the brief moments Talsyn truly savored - a moment of peace before the vices of civilization once again pressed upon his psyche. He takes a deep breathe of what settles for "clean" air these days - a blessing of wind and dew before the sweat and stink of masses assail his senses again.

"Weeks of this nonsense...what am I even doing here."

He takes a deep draught of wine from a water skin at his side. One of the few things he grew to appreciate in this city was the vast assortment of liquors that run through its markets. Even Sol'Dana has limitations on what types of herbs and fruits are available for fermentation. With a long sigh, his feet shuffle as he continues his solitary march down the city streets.

Days and months can seem like mere hours to elven longevity, but despite that the month spent in this place has seemed like an unending purgatory. What started as a self-styled pilgrimage for hope has slowly been poisoned into a doldrum of periodic street performances and the stares of common folk who would never understand Talsyn's purpose. Maybe this was all a mistake. Maybe there was nobody in this rank, squalid pit worth pursuing as an ally for the survival of his nation.

As he wanders past an empty market stall, one of the many flyers advertising the upcoming Deliverance Day tournament catches his eye. The whole city being preoccupied with this festival for days, but it wasn't until now that the thought dawned on him. His hand tightens around the grip of the thin blade at his hip. A slight spike of adrenaline hits him - Gods it had been so long since that thrill coursed through his veins - as an epiphany blossomed.

"Yes...that DOES make sense. I'll never find anything of value amongst these dregs. But warriors will be drawn to this. People of skill and conviction! If I can't find what I seek there, then this cesspit would never offer me anything anyway!"

A long smile plays across his face as he takes another drink and rips the pamphlet from the wall.

"This is it" he thinks to himself. "Either this provides a good death, or I survive and find comrades in arms. If neither occurs, I'll return home. At this point, I'll take any of those conclusions than spend another night in this piss-soaked abomination."

Standing tall, the feral elf takes long strides towards the main colosseum, knowing full well that his destiny may be in step with him.

As deceitful as he was being in this instance, Vecchio couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and disappointment in himself as this old women pointed him in the direction of the alley she was describing. These are good people who deserve just as much privilege as any noble in this city. Maybe one day the world will realize just how small it really is.

Not risking a glance at the three guards, Vecchio gives the small stranger a quick hug and whispers, "Much appreciated. Thank you." He attempts to slip a gold coin in the halfling's pocket.

Sleight of hand check to slip gold coin in pocket
1d20 (6) + 3
Result: 9