Pill sat on the ground in a corner of the square, back pressed against a building. Her soot stained knobby legs were splayed out in front of her,  hands slumped at her side. Though she watched the merchants and the citizens buzz around the square with tired eyes, she smiled in pride.<br/><br/>If they only knew how much work the gnome had put into this festival. When the carpenter's guild had run out of white paint, Pill sold them her stash of 6 tins that the general store had thrown out a year ago. When several merchant wagon wheel axles had rotted away, she went around to local farmers and traded for spares. When it was discovered that several non-magical but historical relics had been thrown away after the old chapel fire site was cleaned up, it was Pill who hunted the trash dump and the Sea and returned Sandpoint's history to its rightful place. Those were just a few of dozens of similar exchanges She was paid a pittance for each one but it was more than enough copper for one little gnome.<br/><br/>It wasn't enough for her mother, bedbound in their wooden shack by injury and illness. Who grew fat and sick off of the low quality food, which was all they could afford. Who glared daggers into her daughter's back every single time she thought Pill wasn't looking...<br/><br/>... Food wouldn't be served until the judges had finished their contests, but Pill had decided leave home early, just in case some business needed to be done. She spent a lot of time making this event happen after all, might as well enjoy it.