As the early morning sun bathes the village of Abondavie in a warm, golden glow, the air is thick with anticipation and excitement. The scent of freshly baked pies, the sound of laughter, and the clinking of tankards fill the air as the villagers gather in the heart of the village for the grand celebration: the Days of Silver Festivals.

Abondavie, a haven on the northern frontier, is a charming blend of cultures and races. Timber-framed buildings line the quaint streets, where humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, halflings, tabaxi, and genasi bustle about, all eager to partake in the festivities. As the sun climbs higher, the village market springs to life, vibrant stalls offering goods from every corner of the realm.

Today is a special day, for the Days of Silver Festivals mark the commencement of the spring planting season, and the entire village and others from around the region and Protectorate have come together to celebrate and give thanks to the Moon Goddess for her benevolence. The air buzzes with joyous chatter as villagers prepare for the multitude of competitions and activities that await them.

Those feeling particularly strong can test their mettle in arm wrestling or tug-of-war, while the more daring can try their luck in the Blinking Hog Chase, hoping to catch a hog that seems to vanish into thin air. The ale-drinking contest beckons the thirsty, and the pie-eating contest promises a delightful mess for all involved.

For those with keen wits, there’s the guess the number of feathers game and a thrilling scavenger hunt that will lead adventurers all over the village and beyond. Music fills the air as talented performers vie for recognition in the music competition, and graceful dancers take to the stage to captivate the crowd in the dance competition.

Beyond the contests, there’s a plethora of general activities to enjoy. Carriage rides offer a leisurely tour of the picturesque village, while a magical show captivates audiences with wonder. The puppet show entertains the young and the young at heart, and the gurning show delights with its comedic antics.

But it’s not all just merriment and games. The Luminal Jubilee, a solemn and momentous ceremony, awaits as the capstone of the celebrations. Led by the March Priest and the acolytes of the Lucinic Brotherhood, the Luminal Jubilee is a time of supplication for a bountiful harvest, a tradition passed down through generations, responsible for the village’s prosperity and well-being.

So, as the 7th of Springenmonth 1322 unfolds, the stage is set, and the choices are yours to make. Engage in the festivities, embrace the camaraderie, and seize the opportunities that await in this enchanting world of Abondavie. Whether it’s competing for glory or uncovering secrets hidden within the celebration, the adventure begins now, and the journey is yours to shape.

As each of you arrived in Abondavie on the 6th, the eve of the Silver Festivals, you've found the village of about 1,000 burgeoning with visitors and dignitaries from around the land. The village's single inn is already occupied beyond its capacity. All the same, the people of Abondavie welcome all into their village for this holy celebration, offering their homes, barns, and land for rent. The prices are as follows:

• For 5 gold pieces a night, you can enjoy a master bedroom suite with privacy and a meal.
• For 1 gold piece a night, you can share a floor with a warm hearth with other travelers.
• For 5 silver pieces a night, you can share whatever space is available in a barn or outbuilding.
• For the budget-conscious, you can spend just a silver piece for a small spot to pitch your tent.

Please indicate what kind of staying arrangements you wish to make--including being a vagabond and sleeping illicitly in any space you can find, etc.--and what if any equipment you choose to carry around for the day during the Silver Festivals. Also, let us know what you are doing on this sunny morning. Ideas for various activities are listed below. For the competitions, there is time in the day to do only one.

Competitions

• Arm wrestling competition - 5sp entry fee, winner is awarded a silver armband worth 15gp and the annual title of "the Showdown Champion."
• Tug-of-war (teams of 2) - 5sp entry fee, winner is awarded free drinks, 15gp for each winner, and the annual title of "Oxe of Abondavie."
• Pie-eating contest - 5sp entry fee, winner is awarded an engraved silver plate worth 25gp, and the annual title of "the Gobbler of Loaf Street."
• Scavenger Hunt - 5sp entry fee, winner is awarded two ivory dice worth 25gp, and the annual title of "Seekers of the Moon."
• Barrel Run - 5sp entry fee, winner is awarded a new set of clothes worth 10sp, including a belt with a gemstone affixed to it worth 5gp, and the annual title of "the Balanced One."
• Ale-drinking contest - 5sp entry fee, the winner is awarded a copper chalice with silver filigree worth 25gp, as well as the title of "the Steel Gut of Abondavie."
• Guess the Number of Feathers - 5sp entry fee, the winner is awarded a piece of gold cloth worth 25gp, as well as the title of "the Lamp of Neomas."
• Music competition - 5sp entry fee, the winner is awarded an embroidered handkerchief worth 25gp, as well as the annual title of "the Silver Herald of Abondavie."
• Dance competition - 5sp entry fee, the winner is awarded a black velvet mask stitched with silver thread (the whole mask is worth 25gp), and the annual title of "the Moon Swan."

Activities

• Food and drinks
• Market and services
• Magic show
• Carriage rides
• Gurning show
• Penal mocking
• Puppet show

This message was last edited by the GM at 00:35, Tue 20 Feb.

While there were still a few stares thrown his way, the people of Abondavie had become somewhat accustomed to Togrirr's presence in the Silver Festivals. Throughout the year, the burly bugbear tended to stay on the outskirts of town, where he met with merchants and peddlers who were interested in trading with him. But during the 7th of each Springenmonth, the bugbear could be seen participating in the festivities just like any other townsfolk.

Aside from his race, which he didn't bother to try and hide with a hood or similar clothing, Togrirr was easily spotted because he categorically refused to part with any of his equipment, carrying a heavy backpack with him wherever he went. Even after renting a spot in one of the town's barns to spend the previous night, he didn't feel it was safe to leave his belongings unsupervised, considering the number of strangers that came for the festivities.

This year, there was a new oddity that even people who knew Togrirr personally couldn't ignore. Tied to his belt, there was a small pouch. Whatever was inside it seemed to be oozing some sort of black ichor, staining the underside of the container.

Togrirr planned to head straight to the Luminal Jubilee as soon as the sun set, as he had important matters to discuss with the Lucinic Brotherhood, but for the moment it wouldn't hurt to take part in the festivities. As such, he signed up for the arm wrestling competition, likely discouraging some of the less confident townsfolk from participating. After all, their chances against a literal monster were slim to none.

-Buying a second pouch.
-Renting a barn to spend the night.
-Carrying all equipment with himself.
-Signing himself into the Arm Wrestling Competition.

With morning sun peering through a gap in the wall illuminating his face, Alaric lay awake in the straw for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the village coming to life. He brushed the straw from his tousled hair and quickly packed his things into his blanket roll which then went over his shoulder. He’d heard stories of big towns and had no intention of trying to cache what little he carried for someone to pocket for themselves.

Emerging from the barn, he realized that he’d never seen so many people in one place and momentarily entertained the idea of fleeing back into the forest until after the festival. But no, he had a task before him, and the trail had led here. Amidst the lively market stalls, he indulged in a simple breakfast, savoring the succulent meat sandwiched between freshly baked bread, washed down by the crisp tang of apple cider.

Intrigued by the vibrant tapestry of voices and sights, Alaric allowed himself to be drawn deeper into the heart of the festivities. The puppet show held him spellbound, a spectacle unlike anything he had ever witnessed amidst the quiet solitude of the road. Disappointed by the absence of archery in the day's competitions, he nonetheless resolved to watch the performances of the musicians.

He planned, as he was sure did nearly everyone else in the town, to attend the Luminal Jubilee.

Spent 5sp for space inside a barn
Carrying all of his possessions
Watch the music competition
Wander observing and listening

This message was last edited by the player at 15:17, Mon 12 Feb.

    While the inn was certainly crowded beyond reasonable privacy, Trésor none the less was able to wrangle a floor spot from the innkeeper in exchange for entertaining the room for a few hours the night before. Not quite the single room he usually earned, but understandable given the overburdened town's current population. Enjoying the easy comradery of happy folk all equally excited about the Festival, he finds the ebb and flow of the crowds an inspiring time and he wakes the next morning with a cheerful disposition.
     Not overly burdened by worldly goods, his backpack contains all he needs for his travels. Knowing of the music challenge from his mother telling him of it's existence, the morning sees him heading straight there to register his name for the contest. While he awaits his turn on the judging stage he wanders the markets and food stalls, sampling some of the stranger fare offered and listening to the chatter and gossip of an active, lively marketplace. He does make a point of attending the major ceremony of the Festival, knowing how important it is and wanting to see what such a powerful magic item looks like.

Entertainer background for basic accommodations. No cost
Entering the music contest - 5 sp.
Carry all his gear.

Smoke was unhappy despite the festive air in the town, he'd lost Mateo's trail and had little to show for it. If emotions showed visibly, there would be a cloud of dissatisfaction hovering over his head as he stalked about.

To try and get himself out of the funk he'd found himself in the last day or so, Smoke decided to at least sample the festivities. He left his bags behind, there was little in them to either incriminate or of extreme value to be stolen, and he shouldn't need his bow out in the town so he left that and his quiver behind.

It had been a few years since he'd had to stay in such squalid conditions, but at least the price was right and he couldn't afford to to squander any of his remaining coins on a place to sleep.

As he went out and about through the town and festival Smoke found one thing that piqued his interest. The Scavenger Hunt. Maybe this was something that might reinvigorate his juices and intensity for his own hunt. So he paid his silver for the entry fee. If I win I can pawn the prize for some more coin too, so win-win.

Background Feature: Free Poor Lifestyle Safe House
Entering the Scavenger Hunt
Carry Equipment other than backpack/quiver/bow

If there was one thing Jessica always taught her, was managing money wisely was always vital to travel on the road. One never knew when they needed it. So when she arrived Abondavie she found the living arrangements somewhat limited. Fortunately her hunting skills came in handy and aside from providing food on the road, she could sell any extra catches to earn a little bit of coin. Still even with her new money she was still limited in choices.

Rather than be out in the open she decided for one of the barns. For a teenager she was if anything very aware of her surroundings. She may be young but she seems to have the look and overall feel of a seasoned traveller. She was wearing rugged, but comfortable clothing consisting of a long sleeved blue shirt, brown pants, a hooded red cloak which partially concealed a backpack and a pair of well used black boots. She had a sheathed dagger on her belt as well as a sling and a multipocketed belt pouch. She kept her money pouch deep in her backpack.

When she enters the barn she nods politely to the bugbear before picking the nearest corner to plop down and set up her stuff. She is of course naturally curious about the bugbear but does not wish to intrude. It was not her place to judge and as long as he did not attack her or any innocents, she had no problem with him.

Instead of participating in the activities, Jessica will simply be a bystander. The music competition sounds nice so she attends that but does not participate. She takes note of the elf who she also saw at the barn.

Jessica will stay in a barn. She will have all her possessions with her on her person all the time. She will only be a bystander at the music competition and will discreetly listen in on local gossip of interesting news if any.

From the moment he had entered the village Erlathan had felt an itch. The mere sight of so many people all in one location was simply overwhelming. His traversal through the bustling crowds had been slow, the young warrior strained struggled with his own reflexes whenever someone brushed up against him. Eventually he had been directed to a barn where he had managed to secure shelter for the night. A few days ago the elf would have scoffed at staying inside a large wooden box. However, he had come to realize most people did not approve of setting up traps this close to towns, it was odd.

A good chunk of the morning was wasted as he inquired about the Lucinic Brotherhood. Most of the people Erlathan questioned implied he should wait for the Luminal Jubilee ceremony that would happen later in the day. Undeterred, he pestered people about the Brotherhood until someone could point him in the direction of their members.

-Reserving a spot in a barn to sleep
-Erlathan will carry all his gear with him.
-Pester people about the Lucinic Brotherhood
This message was last edited by the player at 00:25, Tue 13 Feb.

As the cleric emerges into the festival, Sirena immediatly goes to see if anyone is hurt. She finds a spot in the ban, and reserves it but keeps her gear upon her back with her shield. Smiling at times whenever she sees a interestiing person, the cleric finds a spot and watches the puppet show. Once it is complete, she moves towards the marketplace humming a tune and goes to check anything interesting focusing on candles and chalk, as well as ball bearings. Strange genasi indeed and ask if anyone is interesting in glassblowing.

Spent 5sp for space inside a barn
Carrying all of his possessions
Watch the puppet show
Wander to the marketplae looking fo chalk, candles and ball bearings.

Sorry for the delay, I'm trying to give everyone time to respond.

As the first light of dawn caresses Abondavie, the village stirs, wrapped in the quiet excitement of the festival morning. Sunlight, soft and warm, peeks through the branches, painting the cobblestone streets with a mosaic of light and shadow. The timber-framed houses, adorned with festoons of silver and blue, gleam under the morning sun, their decorations shimmering like dewdrops. Amid these, red brick structures emerge, bold and unexpected, adding depth to the village's quaint landscape.

The air, crisp and vibrant, carries the scent of baked goods, cooking meats, and the delicate aroma of night-blooming flowers, their fragrance a silent prayer to the Moon Goddess. The sound of preparation fills the streets; the murmur of voices, the clatter of goods being arranged, all weaving a tapestry of communal anticipation.

Travelling through the village, you find the heart of the festivities lies between the village center and the Iron Tree Square, connected by a stretch of the main road of packed dirt that is teeming with people, animals, and a visual feast of colorful decorations. The Iron Tree Square, named for its central, stoic tree, hosts the carts and stalls of those who trade in goods and services. The village center, dominated by the Argent Pillar, a carved stone monument dedicated and consecrated to the Moon Goddess, hosts food, drink, dancing, and a plethora of other entertainments. All along the way and even amongst some of the side roads, craftsmen proudly display their work while contests of skill and tales of magic draw crowds, their excitement as infectious as the laughter that bubbles up around them.

The villagers, a diverse tapestry of races and cultures, are themselves a spectacle. Cloaked in garments that reflect the night sky, they move with a grace that honors their goddess. Jewelry that catches the light, mimicking the stars, complements the simple beauty of painted lunar symbols adorning their skin.

Togirr
Togirr, the bugbear ranger with a stride as silent as the forest, navigates through Abondavie's bustling streets, his path illuminated by the joyous light of the Days of Silver Festivals. The village, alive with the scents of culinary delights and the vivid hues of decorations, momentarily pauses as its inhabitants take in his imposing figure. While some villagers regard him with a cautious curiosity, their eyes tracing the contours of his formidable frame, others offer nods of respect, recognizing the strength and spirit of the wilderness that he embodies.

As he approaches the Iron Tree Square, the clamor of those awaiting the start of the arm wrestling competition envelops him, a blend of spirited cheers and the competitive clash of wills. The grounds are a lively spectacle, centered around robust tables set under the protective shade of vibrant tents. Competitors from across the realm flex and prepare, their forms a diverse display of the land's inhabitants. The tables, scarred from battles past, await new stories of strength and perseverance.

Upon his arrival, Togirr's presence commands attention, his towering form casting a long shadow over the competition grounds. Spectators, initially taken aback, quickly warm to the intrigue of his participation, their murmurs turning into cheers of encouragement. Organizers, seizing the moment, guide him to his place at the table, where Togirr stands ready, not just as a contender, but as a testament to the unity and diversity celebrated within the heart of Abondavie.

"Ah, um, Togirr," one of the organizers says, approaching with an edge of embarrassment. Togirr recognizes this man as Géraud, a farmer. "Good day, good day. Are you here to, um, watch the competition?"


Alaric
Alaric, with the untamed spirit of the wildlands coursing through his veins, finds himself adrift in a sea of marvels as he meanders through the village of Abondavie. Every sight, every sound comes like a shout from the vibrant life that thrives within the embrace of civilization, a stark contrast to the solitude of nature's expanse. The air, rich with the mingling scents of fresh baked goods and the earthy perfume of livestock, guides him through the labyrinth of bustling streets. His eyes, wide with wonder, dart from the quaint timber-framed houses adorned with festive garlands to the faces of villagers, each bearing a story untold. The laughter of children playing tag between the market stalls, the haggling of merchants, and the clinking of metal from the blacksmith's forge compose a symphony of human endeavor, alien yet mesmerizing to his untamed heart.

Drawn by the sound of laughter and melodic whimsy, Alaric's journey leads him to a side road, just a breath away from the village's main artery. Here, a gathering of villagers encircles a spectacle that captures his curiosity—a puppet show, illuminated by the warmth of shared enjoyment and the soft glow of afternoon light. A wooden stage, simple yet inviting, becomes the focal point of this enchanting world. The puppeteer, a halfling with golden hair that rivals the sun's own brilliance, dressed in finery that sparkles with a spectrum of colors, commands the attention of all. His voice, rich with emotion and humor, weaves through the air, a tangible thread of narrative magic, while a trio of musicians accompanies the tale with silly, heartwarming tunes.

The story unfolds: a young girl, brave and kind-hearted, embarks on a quest through the deep, whispering forest in search of a magical acorn, the key to lifting a curse laid upon her step-mother by a magician, green with envy. With each twist and turn of the puppet's journey, Alaric feels a kinship to the forest depicted, a representation of the wildlands he knows so deeply, yet portrayed with a whimsy and mystique that is altogether foreign. Through the trials faced by the puppet girl, from trickster spirits to riddles of nature, the audience—Alaric included—is transported to a realm where courage, love, and a dash of magic conquer all adversities. The story concludes with the girl defeatedly returning without the acorn, only to find the strength of her resolve and the purity of her heart rewarded by the Moon Goddess removing the curse from her step mother.

Alaric, while your watching the puppet show, give me a Perception (Wisdom) skill check, please.


Trésor
Trésor, with the effortless grace of a leaf dancing upon the wind, drifts through the lively streets of Abondavie, his half-elven heritage bestowing upon him an air of ethereal charm. His eyes, alight with the spark of unbridled curiosity and the gleam of a carefree spirit, drink in the vibrant tapestry of the festival around him. A bard by call and heart, he moves not merely as a spectator but as one who seeks to weave the essence of the festival into the melodies that flow from his soul.

The scents of the festival—a mélange of roasting meats, sweet confections, and the subtle hint of spring flowers—fill his senses, each aroma a note in the symphony of the village's celebration. The laughter and chatter of the villagers blend with the strains of music that float through the air, a cacophony of joy that beats in rhythm with Trésor's own heart. His fingers itch for the strings of his lute, eager to capture and contribute to the melody of human connection and festivity that envelops him.

Trésor's path is one of whimsy, guided by the sights and sounds that beckon to his bardic soul. He pauses to exchange tales with travelers, to share verses with poets, and to laugh with children chasing each other with ribbons and streamers. Each encounter, each shared moment, is a thread of inspiration, weaving into the fabric of his artistry. He eventually arrives at the village green, where a temporary raised platform has been erected. It is here the music competition will soon commence.

Upon arriving, a halfling woman with incredibly brilliant red hair greets you. Her smile is immediately infectious and her words of welcome one of the most sincere things you've ever heard. With a spark of mischief in her eyes and a playful tilt to her smile, she says, "I had the delight of catching a piece of your performance last evening. Your music, it seems, has the power to make the heart lighter and the evening air a bit warmer."

She takes a small, thoughtful pause, her eyes never leaving his, as if trying to read the stories etched in the depths of his gaze.

"Today's contest of melodies has already drawn the quills of many a seasoned musician, each with their own tale to sing and strings to strum. Yet... I wonder, will you step into the ring and pluck the victory from beneath their noses? For something tells me, the stage yearns for a spirit as untamed and a talent as raw as yours."

Her smile widens, playful yet genuine, inviting not just a response but a revelation of intent, as if she already knows the answer yet yearns to hear the tale spun from his own lips.


Smoke
Smoke moves through the village of Abondavie like a shadow detached from its source, his steps silent but heavy with a weight not visible to the eye. The vibrancy of the festival around him feels distant, as if he were separated from the world by an unseen barrier. The lively laughter and the bright colors seem to mock his current state of defeat; robbed of his worldly possessions, he finds himself adrift, a boat unmoored in the midst of a bustling harbor.

His aimless wanderings lead him to the heart of the village center, a place where the pulse of Abondavie beats strongest amidst the celebration. It's here, amidst the sea of joy and commerce, that Smoke's keen eyes notice a stall unlike the others, not for what it sells but for the crowd it draws. Curiosity, that ever-persistent spark even in his dimmed spirits, nudges him closer to investigate the source of this gathering.

As he weaves through the crowd, his lithe form slipping through gaps only a creature of his nimbleness could find, he discovers the stall's allure: a sign-up for a scavenger hunt. The event, designed to weave through the village and its surrounding areas, promises adventure and, more importantly, a prize for the winner. It's a chance, a sliver of opportunity in the fog of his misfortune, for not only does the competition offer a distraction from his woes, but the reward could very well be the means to reclaim what he has lost—or at least, to start anew.

The idea of joining a scavenger hunt, with its inherent promise of challenge and potential for cunning, ignites a flicker of his former self. It beckons to the rogue within him, the part that thrives on wit and agility, on the thrill of the chase and the sweetness of victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. With a resolve that hardens in his chest, Smoke approaches the stall, his defeat momentarily forgotten, replaced by the burgeoning thrill of competition. In this moment, the possibility of redemption, of turning his luck around in the most unexpected of ways, seems just within reach.

Coming under the open-air tent, Smoke is greeted by a gray-haired dwarf with an austere complexion. "Don't look so glum, whiskers. People might start saying you're more sour than me. What brings you here?"


Jessica
Jessica, with the restless curiosity of youth, meanders through the village of Abondavie, her ears as eager as her eyes, sifting through the air for fragments of tales and whispers of lore. Each conversation she passes is like a thread, promising to lead her through the intricate tapestry of village life, revealing secrets and stories only known to those who listen closely enough.

Her wanderlust carries her like a leaf on a breeze, down the cobblestone paths lined with laughter and lit by the bright hues of festival decorations. She drinks in the sights—the vendors with their myriad treasures, the children darting like fish through the stream of people, the old stories retold with renewed vigor. Yet, it's the undercurrent of gossip that truly captures her attention, tales of love and loss, of strange happenings in the woods beyond, of travelers from lands so distant they seem conjured from the mist of dreams.

Drawn by an increasing murmur of excitement, Jessica finds herself at the end of a side road, where the crowd thickens, coalescing around a spectacle that promises to be more than just idle entertainment. A small platform serves as the stage for a fire genasi, his presence as commanding as the element he controls. The performer, with movements as fluid as they are fiery, dances and leaps, his hands weaving tales in the language of flames. The mask upon his face, aglow with the semblance of an eternal blaze, adds a layer of mystery to his already captivating performance. His ash-white hair and the sparks that dance at his command paint a picture of a being not just performing magic, but embodying it.

Behind him, a cart laden with curiosities—gleaming glass bottles and chests adorned with silver filigree—hints at adventures and secrets as numerous as the stars. Seated beside this treasure trove, an elderly gnome watches the performance, her eyes, though dimmed by the passage of time, sparkle with an unspoken knowledge, suggesting depths of wisdom and experience that beckon just as strongly as the genasi's flames. The ferret on her shoulders, a quiet spectator to the marvels unfolding, adds a touch of whimsy to the scene.

Jessica, give me a Perception (Wisdom) skill check.


Erlathan
Erlathan, a youth with the untamed spirit of the frontier coursing through his veins, steps into the village of Abondavie with a heart heavy with questions and eyes wide with trepidation. The press of bodies, the cacophony of voices, and the riot of colors that greet him are as foreign as the stars to a cave-dweller. Raised in the solitude of vast landscapes, where the sky stretches unbroken from horizon to horizon, he finds the bustling closeness of village life not just overwhelming but suffocating.

Navigating the throngs of festival-goers proves a trial for Erlathan. Each accidental brush of a shoulder, each inadvertent jostle sends a jolt through him, igniting his frontier-honed instincts to flee or fight. Yet, neither response suits his purpose here. With each step, he battles not just the sea of humanity around him but the rising tide of panic within. He's a lone reed swaying in a storm, desperately seeking the shore.

His quest is a beacon, a singular focus amidst the chaos: to find the Lucinic Brotherhood, keepers of knowledge and guides to those lost in the shadows of doubt. When a helpful voice amid the clamor directs him towards a figure clad in the garb of a cleric, Erlathan clutches this thread of hope as if it were a lifeline. The cleric, lost in the thrall of a performance that has captured the hearts of the assembled crowd, stands as an island in the stream of revelry.

Undaunted by the wall of bodies that separates him from his goal, Erlathan presses forward, driven by a need for answers that overshadows the discomfort clawing at his senses. He maneuvers through the crowd with a determination that belies his earlier hesitation. Standing before the cleric, Erlathan pauses. The cleric's attention remains anchored to the spectacle before them. With a courage born of desperation, Erlathan clears his throat, stepping into the cleric's line of sight, effectively pulling the cleric's attention from the show to the young frontier youth before him.

Erlathan, continue to the end to see what the prompt is for your next action.


Sirena
Sirena, a cleric whose life is dedicated to the service of the Moon Goddess, steps into Abondavie with a heart full of purpose and eyes open to the wonders of the Days of Silver Festivals. Her pilgrimage, a journey both of faith and duty, has guided her to this vibrant village at a time when the air itself seems alight with magic and devotion. With the blessings of her superiors as her guide, she seeks to immerse herself in the life of the village, to gather supplies, and to understand the souls she has sworn to serve.

As she navigates the bustling streets, her senses are caressed by the myriad sights, sounds, and scents of the festival. Each corner turned reveals new marvels—stalls brimming with goods, laughter echoing from every direction, and the palpable joy of the villagers as they celebrate. It's a tapestry of life and faith interwoven, a perfect backdrop for a servant of the divine to begin her sacred duties.

Drawn by the sound of laughter and the melodious strains of music, Sirena finds herself amidst a crowd gathered for a puppet show—a simple yet enchanting spectacle that captures the essence of storytelling. The tale unfolds of a young girl's quest through a mystic forest in search of a magical acorn, a journey fraught with challenges yet illuminated by the purity of her heart. Sirena watches, her cleric's soul touched by the universal truths woven into the narrative: courage, love, and the transformative power of faith.

It is at this moment of captivation that an elf, his appearance marked by the trials of life yet his eyes burning with an unquenchable fire, steps before her, obscuring her view of the puppet stage. The determination etched into his features is shadowed by desperation, a silent story of struggles untold. His serious presence stands in contrast to the whimsy and light of the puppet show.

Erlathan, you've happened upon Sirena while she's watching the puppet show. As you are the one making the approach, you'll post up first, and then Sirena may respond
This message was last edited by the GM at 03:58, Mon 19 Feb.

     With a unrestrained grin of a spirit bouyed by the excitement and bright joys of the Festival so far, Trésor gives the friendly halfling a heartfelt bow, answering, "My thanks for the compliment and yes, I DO strive to brighten my world with music and feeling that echoes the singing of my soul. To cheer and embolden my audience to set free their innate goodness and light, and leave them happy and at peace once I finish, is truly a goal I find worthy." With a flourish on his instrument, he adds "While I have not yet met any of those who will strive with me upon the stage, the contest is not the only reason I wish to participate in this event. It is yet another chance for me to raise the spirits of my listeners and bring the joy the world needs to have more of. I'd be happy if my competitors did much the same, no matter who wins the title and prize. If I should be so lucky as to walk away with the rewards, that would be a bonus of the Goddess."

Focused on the puppets, the cleric seems rather surprised. She steps back, hand on her mace and bites her lip. Looking up at the man, her eyes go from surprised to a more serious look "Are you alright?" The show seems familiar. Like what she is intended to do for the most part.