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Instruments of Fate (Batman)
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Instruments of Fate (Pulp Free)
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Mod
Anwen shook her head, taking a deep breath. Despite being magically inclined, she did not have much experience with outside magic. Despite her travels, Anwen did not know why she was magically inclined beyond her possible strange heritage.
Anwen touched her forefinger tip and the tip of her thumb together to created a small ring, fanning out the rest of her fingers. Flipping her hand upside down, she pressed her hand gently to the side of her face, peering through the circle. Anwen muttered two words under breath, a beautiful but alien language called Celestial, as she cast Detect Magic, peering around her through her makeshift scope.
Anwen first peered at the pianist, knowing magical music better than anything, before peering around.
Reagan:
@Anwen, As you look around via the spell, you see the room as if through a pane of moving stained glass. Amethyst musical notes float around the room on a pair of ribbon like staffs, Treble and Clef, Twinned Enchantment spells. The glow is insanely bright, as if enhanced beyond what should be possible.
The piano itself now appears to be made of crystal and you can see it's internals: clockwork gears, piano strings, hammers, tubes, and various other mismatched mechanical parts glowing a bright amber-yellow that hangs over the room like a thin veil of fog. This school of magic is new to you; It's Dunamancy, a relatively new school of magic theory you have only heard of in hypotheticals and legend. It deals with altering reality, primarily through the manipulation of time and/ or gravity.
All the drinks on the tables, as well as several bottles behind the counter and something inside a wooden chest release purple bubbles as if full of soap, though not nearly as bright as the music. Where the business men sit, you can also see a green Transmutation bubbles in their drinks.
Eve:
The music being Enchantment was just about what exactly Anwen expected. The Transmutation spells on the drinks also expected. But the piano confused her so she stood up, pushing her chair back, and grabbing onto her bag with the other hand.
Dunamancy! Anwen stumbled back and landed on her chair in complete surprise and shock. “A story, a fairy tale, a legend. . . literally right in front of me. . ,” Anwen muttered before turning to the armed man who was bold enough to confront a tavern of unknown power. “This may be a giant ruse to prove worth or talent but the important part is that piano is the source of two-thirds of the magic so you can either stop the player or carefully break the piano,” Anwen spoke, words rather rapid from the surprise and excitement at seeing new magic at work.
As she spoke, she pulled out earmuffs from
Her bag and promptly put them in, pleased about her traveling outfits she managed to collect.
Austin:
Henry nodded at the woman. He put his helmet on. It wasn't ear muffs but he hoped it would do something. He walked over to the piano and then tried to knock it over to make it unable to be played for the moment. Hoping this way he wouldn't have to resort to violence.
Reagan:
@Anwen, As you explain the magic at work to Henry, you take notice of the captain has drained his drink and has moved toward the business men. He is pointing at the card player in the opposite corner. Trying to make a bet or get them to play it seems. They try to rise, but it is even stiffer than before. One man manages to get to his feet and the pair make their way, zombielike across the room.
@Henry, The quilted lining of your helmet covers your ears comfortablly, muffling the magic's effect. As you call for a stop to the music, you get several half-lidded looks from the patrons and a slothful groan or two, as if they are asking you to let them roll back over in bed. The waitress tries to bring you another drink and the barkeep offers a pipe. The piano player continues playing until you attempt to topple the instrument. "What are you doing? Dont...!" The man shouts in an abbreviated warning.
@Henry, You march over to the piano and try vainly to topple it over, causing the player to stop his serenade. The old man sitting next to him asks if he takes requests and after a brief moment and a few quiet words, he begins to play again. You can't hear it very well through your helmet, so you remove it from your head. A sense of melancholy washes over your mind and your thoughts slow to a molasses pace. You suddenly feel isolated and alone, in desperate need for companionship. Looking around at all the patrons with their drinks, playing games and talking to eachother, you feel left out in the cold. You want to fit it, and so you reach for the refreshing beverage from the waitress and knock it back. A tingle of comfortable warmth runs through you and seems to settle in your toes. The feeling creeps slowly upward, molecule by molecule. You can see a man in a red coat and a plump merchant making their way toward can at a card table. He is sitting by himself and is likely as lonely as you are.
@Anwen, With your ear muffs on, the music has no effect, and you feel like you can focus for the first time since you entered, whenever that was? It's been a bit. Looking around, you realize the barkeep has disappeared from behind the counter. Probably through a door behind the drink rack? The waitress sidles up to you with a tray of drinks. "This round's on us!" You see her mouth cheerfully.
Austin:
Henry does feel lonely and like he is not part of the group. He apologizes for the commotion then does what he dies when he feels alone. He turns his sword so the point is facing the ground then kneels to it and starts to pray to his creator God the father.
Eve:
Contact, out of commission. Fighter companion, out of. . . commission, Anwen sighed before jumping slightly at the approach of the woman. With a bright grin, Anwen grabbed a pint and gave a nod. "Thank you kindly!"
Shit, shit, shit. I do not have any sort of dispel spells. I can only identify and create distractions-- With practiced ease, she 'drank' some beer, disappearing the drink with a spell. Anwen nodded to the woman before weaving her way behind her and towards the piano.
Pretending to be tipsy, Anwen swayed to and fro as she made her way to the piano, bypassing the now she assumed to be paladin, and ended up beside the piano.
With as swift of a movement as she could, she lifted open the top, drew her dagger, and shoved her arm in, slicing and cutting and jamming her dagger where she could, hoping to render the machine unusable enough to make the enchantment lessen.
@Anwen, As you shove your arm into the hodge-podge mechanical components of the piano, your sleeve catches between some gears, which cut your skin. You also feel a zap of lightning race up your dagger. up your arm, and through your body. ((Take 1 piercing damage and 1 lightning damage, please!)) You pull away, however, satisfied that the piano has been rendered unusable. The pianist leaps onto his bench, nearly causing the old man, to fall backward in surprise. With a flourish of his blue tailcoat, he pulls a strand of piano wire from a pocket and lashes it like a whip.
Eve:
((7/9 hp))
I am not about to like this next part.
Anwen flinched, pulling back the moment she was certain the piano could no longer enchant them. She held her arm close to her side, not used to being electrocuted but she peered at the pianist with wary caution. I cannot win a fight. Not already injured. But. . . God's man may be able to.
Without allowing herself to second-guess herself, Anwen darted forward and, wincing once more, took the earmuffs off her head and placed them on the paladin's. "The pianist would like to fight," she said, oddly calmly and matter-of-factly, before swiftly making it as close to the door behind the bar to track the bartender or at least try to figure out how to undo the transmutation.
Two spells down. One to go.
Reagan:
@Henry, As your mind clears, You feel Anwen place the earmuffs over your ears somewhat belatedly now that the music has ended. You see the cardplayer sitting by himself, which strikes you as odd for some reason. However, more pressing is the piano player standing above you on his bench, a piano wire whip in hand.
@Anwen, You vault over the bar counter and head for where you assume the door to be. You see no knob, latch, or keyhole. However, you notice out of the corner of your eye is a big chest under a set of shelves. You saw some magic inside it earlier. You also hear voices behind the drink rack, audible but unintelligible.
Austin:
Henry was still feeling lonely but due to the woman helping him. He was reminded that he was not alone. He would have her back like she had his back. He stood up to get between the pretty friendly woman and the man with piano wire.
Reagan:
As you move to engage with the pianist, you feel the tingling sensation in your body has settled in you feet, as if they have fallen asleep. Your socks feel a bit damp as though you are sweating out spree sort of toxin, but there is no other effect. The merchant behind you, however, is frozen in a casing of stone, a look of confused terror etched on his face. Likewise, companions at the table are statues, forever silently engaged in their discussion. Reason would seem to indicate that this is how this establishment handles rowdy customers. The captain shakes his head and stares for a moment before looking to you for clarification.
Austin:
“Captain run get out of here.” Henry says then swings his sword at the armed man.
Eve:
Anwen ran her hands along where she thought the door was, noticing a lack of convenient handle or hinge or lock. She heard the voices and wished she could just meld through but then paused. What would she do even if she could? Anwen glanced back at the paladin and bit her lip. Would be best to investigate this next room either when it was empty or with assistance. I love music but for all that it is worth, I cannot strike worth a thing.
Purple bubbles? Anwen blinked and scurried over to the chest. She peeked over the counter one more time to ensure that the paladin was not about to be killed, before looking at the chest. Purple for enchantment, Gold to Dunamancy, Green for transmutation. She ran her hands along the seam before attempting to open it.
Austin:
Henry sees the girl scurrying around behind him. "Hey, find a way out of this?" He asks her trying to see what she is up to while he is fighting.
Reagan:
@Henry, As you strike the pianist a second time, he glares at you wit vitriolic rage. He uses one hand to wipe blood from his face and the other to strike at you with his whip.
The captain moves toward the door and tries to open it. Finding it locked, he throws his shoulder against it. You can hear the wood splinter loudly. The man looks surprised at his good fortune. "Good call!" He yells to you.
@Anwen, You find the seam where the chest opens and attempt to pry it apart but it is locked. The lock is visible, yeah. It's built into the chest though, not an external padlock.
Eve: {Rewritten from table talk for narrative clarity]
Anwen uses her dagger to try to catch the latch.
Reagan:
@Anwen, There is a light click as the latch inside the chest releases and you push the lid up. Inside the black velvet lined interior you find:
-12 Gold pieces in a small leather pouch,
-2 wooden shirt buttons
-1 sewing needle
-1 spool of blue thread
-3 loose sheets of parchment coated in vellum and covered in archaic, arcane looking symbols and scribbles in a language you don't recognize
-1 shell shaped brooch pin with a pearl in its center
-1 palm-sized stoppered bottle filled with a glowing blue liquid.
There is a string with a hang tag around the neck of it. There is some sort of recipe on the tag, but it is in the same language as the papers.
Mod
"Trying!" Anwen shouted as the chest finally pops open. "Ha ha!"
She leaned over the chest, peering inside. Instinctively, Anwen took the gold pouch and put it in her own, already thinking about how many meals she could afford with this before looking over the rest of the items.
Buttons, needle, blue thread. . . sewing kit? Seriously?
What's this? Anwen picked up the paper and tried to figure out what language the scribbles could be but then tried to understand the symbols and realized she didn't understand that either. Drat. So much for making an antidote. I just hope it wears off soon then.
Anwen pocketed the paper and picked up the brooch, trying to see if it reminded her of anything before pocketing it, took up the vial and, after examining it, put it away. Maybe I can find someone to translate it. Someone trustworthy. Maybe.
She closed the chest and stood up, moving over to the false wall to see if she could still hear the strangers, watching the paladin to see if he needed help.
Austin:
“Did you find anything useful?” Henry calls out to the girl as he continued to battle pianist, looking to knock him out rather than kill him.
Reagan:
@Henry, The pianist spits at you lashes his whip and the end of it comes within an inch of your face.
@Anwen, On one of the shelves where you think a door should be is a row of seven bottles, more brightly colored than the rest, but made of opaque ceramic rather than translucent glass. A little brass plaque reads:
Two of us are brewed from blight
And always sat to purple’s right.
Three are juice, one burns like flame,
And no two colors taste the same.
Even flasks hold naught but pain,
And shade of sky will leave a stain.
Though tasty are those at each end,
Neither is the winner’s friend.
A puzzle for the keen of mind,
Choose wisely, the way to find.
From left to right:
Bottle 1. Purple bottle.
Bottle 2. Green bottle.
Bottle 3. Sky-blue bottle.
Bottle 4. White bottle.
Bottle 5. Purple bottle.
Bottle 6. Green bottle.
Bottle 7. Red bottle.
Eve:
Huh? "I found a riddle!" Anwen called. "And some potions."
Purple, Green, Sky-blue, White, Purple again, Green, Red.
First purple and red are tasty.
Sky-blue will stain. Like clothes?
Green, White, Green, wait two greens? hold naught but pain.
The purples and greens taste different.
The only ones to the right of purple is the second purple's white and sky-blue, which means they are brewed from blight.
But three of these are juices, just juices? and one burns like flame.
Oh, first purple and red are not the answer--'Neither is the winner’s friend.' Good to know.
But one means forward. Eliminating the first purple and red, and the even ones, I am left with sky and second purple. It can't be sky because it stains and is brewed from blight which leaves only the second purple. Anwen picked up bottle number five, running through the logic again and biting her lip. Am I supposed to drink this? "If I am right, the answer to the riddle is number 5," Anwen called out again, holding the bottle before turning around and looking at the paladin and captain.
Wait a second!! Anwen looked down at the bottle and cast Identify, wanting to ensure she wasn't going to poison herself.
Reagan:
@Anwen, As you pull the bottle off the shelf, the drink rack swings back like a door, stops at about forty-five degrees, then slowly begins to close. Looking at the bottle in your hand with the spell, you can tell it is a Potion of Healing.
Austin:
Henry cursed the man who he was fighting he tried to bash the man with the pommel of his sword trying to knock the man out.
He saw that the woman opened up a door. “Hey is that the way out?” He asked her.
Reagan:
@Henry, The pianist's eyes crossed and his body slumped limply. He fell off the bench and hit the floor with a heavy thud that startled the remaining patrons, who were hungrily watching the fight. The waitress had ducked under a free table and covered her head with her arms. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
The captain, temporarily distracted, turned his attention back to the door and practically side-tackled it. The heavy wood splintered again, nearly broken in half.
Eve:
Anwen pocketed the potion and turned to the paladin. "Quickly!" she urged, deciding not to answer the question and just have back-up.
Anwen ducked into the room herself, seeing if perhaps she could slow the door even farther to allow the paladin time to enter, if he decided too. She looked behind her, hoping she had not just walked into a trap, trying assess the room she was in.
Austin:
Henry was pleased to have the pianist knocked out. He turned to the woman and followed her. “Captain follow me.” He called thinking this was the way out.
Reagan:
@Henry, The captain turns to look at you and points at the door, which was one good shove from coming loose from its hinges. "I think the way out's likely to also be the way in. That way probably leads deeper into this, uh...tourist trap." He smirks at the joke. "But yeah. I'm curious. This is probably tangential to why I sent you those summons in the first place." He moved to join Henry behind the counter.
Reagan:
@Anwen, You see a cable of twisted wire, like a metal rope, attached somehow to the door opposite where you took the bottle from. It runs to a set of geared pulleys in the wall. Its tail hangs down, tied around a weight. You understand that the door opens by pulling the slack out of the cable and closes by letting it back out on a very short timer.
Eve:
Anwen stepped back a moment, following the metal rope. She traced the rope with finger before spotting the slack. “Oh. Drat. I’m not—okay. I can try,” Anwen muttered as she hurried forward and grabbed tightly onto the rope, keeping her hands away from the gears, before pulling down as hard as she could. Mechanics was not her thing.
@Anwen, You pull the cable as hard as you can, but it runs across your palm, threatening to burn.
The captain slips sideways through the small opening, and seconds later the door closes, behind him. casting the room in darkness. He quickly pulls a match from his pocket and strikes it against a stone wall. "Got a torch or a lantern, Miss Anwen? Preferably the latter?"
Eve:
Anwen stepped back and rubbed her hands together. She turned to the captain and blinked, pausing a second. "Oh, uh, no? I have the ability to see in the dark, albeit in blacks and greys. There is a gear and metal rope system here, though. You're most likely considerably stronger than me if you would like to pull on it to open the door. I will look for a source of light for you in the mean time. . ," she trailed out, turning slowly to look for a light.
Reagan:
The captain nods and hands you the match before pulling in a pair of leather gloves. He then grabs the cable and pulls the door open. He lets out what sounds like more of a growl than a voice. "Alright, come on in Mr. Henry. Door's open wide." He holds it about five seconds longer, pulling it a bit to pull the slack out again to give you more time, before he lets it go and flexes his sore back muscles.
Austin:
Henry thanks the captain then enters the room. He looks around to see what he can find to help.
Reagan:
@Henry, You see the opening mechanism, but even before the door closes, there is very little light in the room to see by. Then once it does, Anwen's matchstick doesn't cast much further than her own face.
Austin:
Henry sighs as he unable to see well in the low light of the area. He takes out his tinderbox and uses the match to light it and looks around the room using the lamp.
Reagan:
@Henry, Even with two sources of light giving you a dim sense of vision, there isn't much to see in this small area. You estimate it to be a ten feet by ten feet stone cube with the door behind you and the gearbox to your left. A set of very narrow steps runs down just behind Anwen.
Austin & Eve: [Condensed and Rewritten from table talk for narrative clarity.]
Henry and Eve move to walk down the steps and see where they lead.
Reagan:
@Henry, @Anwen, You move down the stairs, some thirty steps before your matches burn out. Even Anwen can barely make out her own hand in front of her face. The path flattens and curves a bit to the left before you can see again. The next space fans out in a rough triangular shape, about fifty feet wide at the far end. The carved stone blocks of the stairway have become natural cave stone, slick with condensation and overgrown with blue-green bio-luminescent moss. Stalactites hang from the ceiling, dripping into the underground lake that laps at the lip of the doorway where you stand. A half-submerged rickety wooden dock leads ten feet to nowhere. Anwen can just make out a raft at the far end of the cavern, tied with a fraying length of rope.
Eve:
Anwen followed along, biting her tongue. She resisted the urge to scurry ahead, knowing if there was danger, she would not be able to handle it. Strange as it was, Anwen had felt her tie to the celestial plane become weak with her use of the Identify spell. It was still there, allowing her to cast her weaker spells, but nothing more.
She walked halfway across the dock, not allowing her feet to get wet. Anwen squinted her eyes and huffed. “There’s a boat tied at the other side. So unless someone feels like swimming, the bartender cannot be followed. Oh drat,” she stomped her foot before scurrying back out of fear of breaking the dock. “Oh dear oh dear. Terrible upkeep.”
Anwen looked back at the pair, pursing her lips in a frown. She blinked at the paladin before looking completely shocked. “Oh I’m so sorry! You’re hurt! Here, take this,” she handed him the health potion. “Minor health potion. Should perk you up a bit. And I am Anwen. Traveling bard with a damgerous sense of adventure.”
Austin:
Henry caught the health potion. “Thanks, ive had worse though i really cant remember when.” He said pondering as he put the potion in his inventory. “Oh Anwen is a unique name for a unique woman. Makes sense you would be a bard with looks like that.” Then he paused and shook his head. “Sorry, still under the effects of the magic. Im Henry a traveling paladin of justice.” He says as he offer a gauntlet clad hand for her to shake.”
Eve:
Anwen had been confused for a moment until his explanation of worse injuries clicked. She nodded in sympathetic understanding before blinking in surprise at his comment on her looks. Anwen quickly replaced her surprise with a smile and a nod, taking his hand for the shake.
“A paladin! I thought as much when you knelt in prayer. Oh. Speaking of that, may I have my earmuffs back? They were quite expensive for the location,” Anwen commented casually, pleased to finally have a name to the face.
“I don’t think I know your name?” Anwen turned to the captain.
Reagan:
@Anwen, @Henry, "Matthias." The captain answers simply. "Sorry for not introducing myself sooner or even in the letter of summons. I thought anonymity was a good policy. Then I fell under the effects of that establishment and was about to spend at least the next decade listening to those guys trying to sell scrap metal sculptures and playing cards." He looked around. "Seems the management left the faucet running. What are the odds there's a drain?" He joked and turned to examine the walls. "Bit of a mold problem."
Austin:
Henry nodded and handed her ear muffs back. He chuckled from the captains remarks. “I can swim but not in this heavy armor. Unless there is a way across this seems like we must turn around.” He said as he looked around for a way across.
Reagan:
@Henry, Seeing Matthias inspecting the walls, you wonder if you could climb your way around, using the moss for handholds.
Mod
Anwen took her earmuffs back and put them her bag as she turned back to the lake. She frowned slightly, taking a moment to understand the jokes were jokes, when she noticed the bubbles and pale shape.
“It appears the lake is inhabited,” Anwen announced after clearing her throat. “So swimming is certainly out of the question. I would assume that the creature is warded off somehow or knows not to attack certain individuals when crossing in the boat so that is also a risk. As much as I would hate to turn back, that may be the ideal choice at the moment.”
Austin:
Henry nodded from Anwen’s words. “I agree i don't feel like drowning today.” He said then turned around to go back up the stairs. He hoped one more bash and the front door would open.
@Henry, @Anwen, The common room of The Siren's Song is in a state of disarray. The waitress is kneeling over the pianist, still lying unconscious where you left him. She is dabbing blood from his cheek with a damp dishrag. She glares at you venomously, but continues to coo soothing words to the man. His bench is toppled to one side of him, a leg broken off.. The three merchants are standing in the center of the space, having fully turned to stone. The card player is gone and only a single card remains face-down on the table. The novelist and navy-man are standing next to the open doorway, where the door lays in pieces just outside the frame. They are staring openly at a bustling port city enjoying the sunny afternoon.
Eve:
“I would hope you wouldn’t want to drown any day,” Anwen commented as she followed them up the stairs.
Anwen frowned at the mess. She clenched her hands into fists for a moment before taking a deep breath and relaxing them. “Neither of you would know how to help the poor trio of stone, would you?”
Anwen slowly walked up to the petrified patrons and gently touch them, hoping to somehow find a solution but she doubted she could help. Even if healing magic worked, she could only help one.
Austin:
Henry chuckled from her teasing. "Well not any day when I get to have a pretty woman by my side." He replies without realizing what he said. He then walked up to the stone figures. "I knew of some sap that can work. But judging that this happened here. Maybe the waitress knows. Though she seems pissed at me and You seem more like a people person Anwen." He teases Anwen.
Eve:
Anwen seemed unfazed by his comment, soon nodding. “Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t like you,” she smirked with a small laugh. “It’s not like you broke or attacked anything.”
Anwen straightened out her cloak before cautiously walking over to the waitress. “Um, excuse me, I have some very basic healing magic that will help your friend. If you’ll allow me,” Anwen spoke softly and gently. She kept her posture open and small, not wanting to appear threatening in any way.
Reagan:
@Henry, Matthias begins muttering to himself and it takes you a second to realize he's trying to recall fragments of old fairytales for a solution to the stone men. "My grandmother used to tell me stories as a child. I admit I never put any stock into much, if any, of it, but there's a few tidbits coming to the surface. Maybe if I could buy a book of fairy stories or something? There's a shop a block or so down from here, if memory still serves." He scratches his forehead and manages a sardonic smirk. You don't know much about magic, but you've heard of spells that can restore a person from diseases and other magical effects, as well as those that can negate the latter. Also, maybe something about mandrakes?
@Anwen, The waitress narrows her eyes at you, but moves aside to let you fix your mistakes. She rubs her wrists nervously. After several long seconds, possibly a minute, she asks, "Why did you do this? Why'd you attack him? He'd only been playing for... five-ish minutes... or so?"
Eve:
Anwen gently hovered her hands on the man’s head and muttered a godless prayer in a Celestial. A gentle light shown from her hands, enveloping the wound in otherworldly light. It only healed a little, but it was something.
Anwen sat back on her heals with a slight huff before turning to the scared and confused waitress. “Oh my dear, I am very sorry. You see, I am able to cast a spell that allows me to see magic at work. The drinks had a Transmutation spell in them, most likely to turn the patrons into stone, the music had Enchantment magic to convince people to drink, while the piano itself held Dunamancy magic, conflicting with time itself.
“Considering the pianist was using the piano, I messed up the piano to stop the music and he immediately went on the attack. I’m very for the distress this caused you.”
Reagan:
@Anwen, The waitress watches you heal the man, the gash on his face being reknit with fresh skin. He doesn't wake up, but he looks to be a lot less in pain. Her expression turns from wariness to mild interest. "That much magic at once? It makes sense that Billy here was able to do some of the things you said, I suppose...? But I've got so many questions. Why was I not aware of it? Rupert was a magician too? Were the two of them working together? Why? Did we all serve some purpose in a greater scheme, or were we just unfortunate flies caught in a web? And did you say something about time...? How long have I really been here?"
Austin:
Henry turned to the captain. “I think I remember something about mandrakes. Let’s go get your fairy tale book. Maybe there is also a local healer that can undo this.” He said going with the captain to leave the bar.
Reagan:
Matthias nods. "Take a right up the street." As he turns to leave he calls to Anwen. "We're going shopping. Care to join us?"
Eve:
Anwen took a deep breath and spoke gently, answering one question after another the best she could.
“I am shocked too that there was that magic at once. But it does work. The transmutation was most likely a simple spell cast on the drinks in bulk or was due to the ingredients.
“The time magic from piano’s working itself while enchantment from the player.
“Chances are you were put under similar effects of the spell to keep you here. I am afraid I do not know who Rupert is. If he is the bartender, then he had a chest behind the counter of ingredients and potions. So he is most likely more of an alchemist than anything. He did make a run for it when the fight started.
“Why they were doing this, I do not know but I hope to find out. They were most likely working together, considering how well orchestrated this was.
“As to how long you have been here, what day is it, last you knew?”
Reagan:
@Anwen, The waitress rubbed her forehead. "Rupert... Rupert was the bartender, yes. He... he hired me... Well, I guess it was a year and a half ago from the last date I remember, which was Satyrsday? The twenty-third day of the ninth month?" You remember it being Friarsday, the twenty-sixth day of the seventh month.
Eve:
Anwen gently took the waitress’ hands, hoping to help ground her. “It has been over ten months from that day,” she spoke calmly. “Is there anyone I can help you contact? Can help you find? Anything I can answer for you?” A victim waitress, a dastardly pair of pianist and bartender. At least she is innocent, I guess. Just. . . such a high cost for a mortal.
Reagan:
@Anwen, "Ten months?!?" She looked distraught. "He owes me a hefty paycheck. Or preferably lots of smaller ones so the tax won't kill me." She attempted to buff the shock with jokes. "I have a younger sister I was trying to provide for. She's probably had to go live at of our Aunt's and Uncle's place. Hopefully not the mean ones with all the dogs."
Reagan:
@Henry, Matthias leads you to a row of shops--- really just one big building divided into six rooms separated by plaster walls. The fronts of the facades are mostly glass reinforced with painted lead window panes, with a glass door, and etched with the shop's name in fancy gold-leafed letters. Shelves are built directly opposite, so the wares are visible even outside. Adelaide Claremont's Floristry and Herbology Shoppe in green, Madame Winona's Horoscopes and Fortunes in magenta, Dr. Y's Chemistry in yellow-green, The Clothes Minded Habadashery and Clothier in orange, Buy the Books in red, and The Precocious Pixie Perfumery in lavender.
@Anwen, You run through a list of possible establishment where you could put your talents to use and possibly meet like-minded individuals, making judgements based on the map you were studying earlier.
●There's an inn on the other side of town called The Copper Kettle . You assume that its distance from the docks and proximity to the wealthier resident area makes it a higher end establishment.
●There is a theater that includes both indoor and outdoor stages.
●Some of the shopping include art studios or music shops that might allow you to perform. One that stands out for its name alone is High Flutin'! .
●And of course, the ever present option is to take to the streets, busking for gratuities from generous locals.
Eve:
Anwen bowed her head a moment to think before looking back up at the waitress with a smile. "I have some spare change on me you can use to send a message to your younger sister. In the mean time, I am going to head to The Copper Kettle to see if I can use my bardic talents to earn you some money to make up for the time lost. It may not be much, I cannot guarantee, but it will be something. "Sound like a solid plan?"
Reagan:
@Anwen, "Definitely a better plan than no plan, which is where I am, currently. Can I come with you? We can visit the post office either on the way or afterward. And I really need to get out." The waitress says.
Eve:
Anwen smiled and nodded, standing up and helping the woman up. "Of course. You can even help if you want. Can you dance a little or sing?"
Reagan:
@Anwen, "I'm not sure you'd call what I can do singing exactly, but I can Do-Si-Do with the best of them. Line dancing and swing dancing." She took Anwen's hand and stood, brushing off her simple skirt and apron. "I danced with ALL the boys back in our little town functions."
Eve:
"Well, if you are comfortable, and no one in the crowd is scummy," Anwen began as she led the way to the post office then the Kettle, "then you can dance with the audience members. Audiences love to get involved and I can only use it if I am using illusions or someone else is playing the instruments. But you are more than welcome to sit and watch. You have done more than enough unpaid work."
Reagan:
Henry goes to the shop called buy the books and goes up to the person working there. Bringing a captain along with him. “Good day. I was wondering if you had a book on mandrakes or…” he gestured to the captain to see what books he might be looking for.
Austin:
Henry goes to the shop called buy the books and goes up to the person working there. Bringing a captain along with him. “Good day. I was wondering if you had a book on mandrakes or…” he gestured to the captain to see what books he might be looking for.
Reagan:
@Anwen, "Didn't you say the proceeds were going toward me?" The waitress asked. Her tone indicated she hated to be presumptuous, but the smile on her face made it a joke. She lifted her hem as she walked and made a few small kicking dance steps. "That's hardly an unpaid gig! And I can handle a few rowdy customers just fine." After a few more moments of quiet introspection, she added, "On another note, I don't even know where my sister is. Not really sure how to send a letter to her. Or where anyway."
Mod
@Henry, Matthias nods. He looks a bit embarrassed as he asks, "uh, yes... I'm looking for any collection of Fairy stories or folk tales that might have any reference to bringing someone back from being turned to stone."
The man running the bookshop counter seemed to be of halfling heritage, but oddly proportioned. His head seemed too large for his body, thin but with a paunch at his belly and his shoulder length blonde hair was parted in the middle framing his pale face. His large rosy cheeks stood out against otherwise skeletal features. Large gold-framed spectacles eclipse his face from their perch on his long but rounded nose. His gray suit is oversized but neatly pressed and he wears spats without shoes. "Mandrakes, hmmm...?" Despite his height differential, he manages to seem condescending. He looks down his nose at the captain, taking in his uniform but glosses over your rougher armor without "Children's stories are in the front rows. Just look for the pictures of farm animals. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to re-alphabetize the philosophy section. Feel free to help yourself to a sweet." He pushes a bowl of hard candies toward you before hopping down from his footstool and waddling off toward the back.
Eve:
“Oh yes. The proceeds do go to you. What I meant is that this is to make up for the unpaid work so any work you do for the money now may go, technically, unpaid,” Anwen explained as they swiftly walked.
“Why not send a letter to each aunt and uncle since that is where she would most likely end up?”
Austin:
Henry sighed of course nothing could be easy. “Ok lets go look at the books.” He motions for the captain to follow him as he walks over to the books and starts to look through them for anything useful. He disliked libraries he found books boring he wanted to go find a cure not look for a needle in a haystack.
Reagan:
@Anwen, The waitress nods. "That's a good idea. That's three letters though. And I'd have to compose them before posting." She stopped in front of a white stone building that looked like a converted tavern. The sign above the door reads Post Office and was painted with a white envelope with a red wax seal. "I'm surprised I remembered where this was," she said. "I'm just going to get some supplies and I'll write them at the inn. "We'll need envelopes, wax, a good quill, and some ink..." She steps inside and immediately began to peruse a selection of papers in an astonishing range of colors. "Oh and paper, of course! How do they get the colors so vibrant?" She gushed. Overhead in the rafters, you see a flock of owls and pigeons. Across the room, an Owlin in purple robes is sliding letters into what was clearly once a wine rack humming to herself. A woman tiny enough to fit the palm of your hands together is sitting on the floor sorting letters from a giant leather bag into lots of small piles. She is dressed in brown rags and wild hair. A dwarf in similar robes to the owlin is unloading another bag from a dolly. He wipes his brow and tucks a fiery orange beard back under his belt before waving at you and turning to fetch another load.
Reagan:
@Henry, Matthias begins looking through the books with you, selecting a few thin volumes of collected stories. "I apologize. I didn't know he was going to be such an elitist." He frowns. "These have a few titles that seem at least similar to what I remember. He grabs another and opens it up, flipping slowly. "You mentioned mandrakes? Maybe we'd have more luck in the herbology section. Or the florist a few doors down?"
As you peruse, you can see one of the shelves is missing a leg and being propped up with a heavy book called, Grandma Gwendoline's Guide to Gargoyles, Ghouls, Goblins, Golems, and Giants It's clearly a picture book with thick cardboard paper, but something about it draws your eye.
Eve:
Anwen chuckled for a moment before clearing her throat. “Remember, I do not have much so try not to splurge,” she reminded the waitress gently before moving towards the desk to see it there were any mailing rates listed. As well as trip time. Though, Anwen didn’t know where they would be headed. She just wanted to know if the money she, ahem, borrowed would be enough or if she would have to wait to see what performing got her.
Reagan:
@Anwen, As you make your way over to the front desk, careful not to step on the woman you realize is a Brownie, the Owlin turns her head around to face you without moving her body. Her black-speckled gray feathers puff up in excitement before settling for a second and she coos happily. "Oh! Hello dear! I love your outfit! How can I be of service? Are you in need of unique stamps? Elmira has an extensive collection from all over Hyara. Or perhaps you are interested in sending a letter via carrier pigeon? Many consider it a romantic alternative to traditional postage."
Eve:
Anwen smiled happily, happy to meet such an energetic bird after a long time trap. “Oh why thank you. It did take a while to collect,” she commented on her outfit, looking down at it with pride.
“Ooo, I do wish I had someone to send a pigeon to. Rather, my dear friend,” Anwen nodded to the waitress, “wishes to contact her younger sister. She could be in any of three locations so we’ll need to send three letters. I was wondering what the rates were?”
Austin:
Henry sighed happily releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Happy he was no longer condemned to an eternity in the library. He kneels down and picks up the book then replaces it with another book so the book case would not topple over. He goes over to the captain and opens it trying to flip through it for relevant info.
@Anwen,
"Oh! Sisters separated by an unknown distance, forced apart by fate, yet determined to unite whatever the cost... of postage that is!" She sighs as if swooning over some characters in a fluffy romance novel rather than an actual person. "How tragic! Regular post is 2 copper per mile. Pigeons are 3 copper per mile because they're faster. Owls are 5 copper per mile. They're actually slower than pigeons, but can carry heavier packages. We also offer horses and coaches for longer distances and the heaviest of parcels. Those cost gold though." She pulls out a scroll case and unrolls a map on the counter top marked out in a neat grid representing the miles. "So where too?" The waitress walks over carrying three sheets of pink paper, a quill, and a small ink-pot and informs you she is going to forego wax seals. She looks over the map and pinpoints three locations. The first is 73 miles away; a nearly two days journey. The second is a full is 85 miles, and the third is 110 miles, putting it just under four and a half days away. ((Total: 2 Gold, 7 Silver, and 8 Copper.))
@Henry, The book is light on story save for some rhyming couplets associated with all the various creatures depicted. There is a page about a monster called a basilisk, The text reads:
Hark, dear traveler! Beware the Basilisk!
Ignore my warning at your own risk!
A mighty beast, but oh so shy!
Be careful not to look him in the eye,
lest ye should be turned to stone!
Don't travel into his lair all alone.
Be sure to bring a trusted friend
So that you might avoid your end.
The basilisk's face is his own shame,
so bring a shiny mirror in a frame.
Should you fail these words to heed,
and suddenly find yourself in need
to stand completely still for eternity,
Then listen. Listen to me carefully!
A stream of running water is the cure,
And Mandrake Extract* clean and pure.
To you who would seek the Basilisk,
My heartfelt words to you are TSK! TSk!
*Check out Grandma Gwendolyn's Garden Grimoire for more information!
Eve:
Anwen grinned at the bird's reaction and held back a laugh from the entertainment. "Yes, very tragic indeed. Are you a poet or writer by any chance?"
Anwen stepped to the side to allow the waitress to put her chosen product on the table and point out where they would be going. She visibly relaxed when she realized that the stolen, er, borrowed money would suffice. "Oh fantastic. Well, we'll get these materials and then, once they are written, send them off by regular post then. I certain have enough for that," she reassured the waitress with a smile.
Reagan:
@Anwen, The waitress grins and lays the paraphernalia on the counter. "Thank you, kindly, Miss...? Umm..."
"Aquilla!" The Owlin says proudly, feathers fluffing. She quickly brushes them down, looking mildly embarrassed. "I only really write as a hobby. Nobody would want to read my drivel even if they could read my handwriting." She lays all the items in a wooden box painted with the establishment's logo. When she thinks you aren't looking, she slips in a book of stamps and a metal quill nib. She recites the price to you as she writes up a pair of receipts. You suspect one will reflect the free items once you leave.
The waitress whispers to you. "That's actually pretty cheap, considering. I can pay you back easily. I have at least that much. Now come on! We've a concert to host!"
"A concert?" Aquilla's feathers fluff up again before she realizes that she wasn't supposed to have heard the conversation. "Oh. Sorry." She preens anxiously and begins to make herself look busy.
Eve:
“Well, if you ever decide that you want to share your work, I would be happy to read it,” Anwen laughed softly. She noticed the generous act but said nothing.
Anwen took out a gold and listened as the waitress spoke. “Oh, you don’t owe me a thing. We’re trying to get you back on your feet. I managed to come into some money recently and have nothing I want to spend it on.”
As Anwen gathered her change, she smiled at Aquilla. “We’re going to The Copper Kettle to try to perform for some extra money. If we get permission, then we’ll be holding a concert there. You are more than welcome to come or inform others. The extra money would purely be donations.”
Austin:
Henry points this out to Matthias he then closes the book and leans it against the shelf. He then has the captain follow him to the herbalist shop.
Reagan:
@Anwen, "ᴼʰ... ʷᵉˡˡ... ᴵ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵈᶦᵗᵒʳ ᵒʳ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒᵒᶠʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ." Aquilla mutters under her breath. "Maybe... I don't know. It might be kinda embarrassing." You can tell she is making an effort not to cover her face. "What time is the concert?" She hastily changes the subject. I might be able to stop by after my shift ends in... three-ish hours?" She leans forward to squint at a clock above the door on the far wall, then straightens and adjusts her glasses.
The waitress smiles as she grabs the box of writing materials and turns for the door. "Great! See you there! Thank you!"
"ᵂᵃᶦᵗ... ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ..." Aquilla protests.
***
@Henry, As you leave, you hear the Halfling's voice from the back of the store. "I knew you weren't going to purchase anything! I knew it as soon as you went for the children's books you were an illiterate ignoramus! The sign says Buy the Books! We're a bookstore, not a public library!" You suspect his tirade continues even after the door shuts.
The florist's shop feels almost like walking into a rain-forest. Leaves and vines grow like streamers over the ivy-wrapped doorway from a planter atop the frame. The floor is a carpet of thick grass moist with dew. You can smell fresh dirt and fertilizer, lavender, and honeysuckle, and a million other floral fragrances. Matthias notes that the perfumery must have its work cut out to compete. Tables run the length of the space in rows, overburdened with flowering plants in every color, their equally bright painted pots stacked close to the ceiling like bricks in a wall. A light mist hangs over you. At a tiny desk in the corner a woman is sitting with her head down on top of her arms. She has a nest of wild, frizzy brown hair,
Mod
Eve:
"Well, as long as I am in town or able to be reached, I would love to give your works a look over. I quite enjoy written art, even if I don't practice too much of it myself. I specialize in lyrical writing but that does require rhyming and rhythm," Anwen explained her credentials before she laughed softly at the waitress and Aquilla's exchange.
Anwen gave Aquilla a polite nod and an understanding look before hurrying after the waitress, walking beside her to the Kettle.
Austin:
Henry lookes around the shop before approaching the woman. “Um excise me ma’am do you have any mandrake root by chance?” He asks her trying ti be polite.
Reagan:
It takes you and the waitress half and hour to reach The Copper Kettle , which is actually a pair of two-story buildings across the street from each other, connected by a covered bridge spanning over the cobblestone street beneath your feet.
Seemingly suspended in midair under the bridge is a large copper cauldron that has been reshaped and retrofitted with a spout to resemble a tea kettle. Port Winchester's salty sea air has coated it in a blue-green patina that makes the few exposed bits of red-gold metal stand out and sparkle even brighter. The spout strategically pours a stream of honey-brown dyed hot water into a teacup shaped fountain to your right, filling the space under the bridge with a cloud of steam. A closer look reveals a hollow glass tube inside the stream of water that is pumping it back up to be recycled.
Once you can bring yourself to look at the buildings, you start with the one behind the fountain. It's bottom story is made of mossy gray stone set with bay windows and a door painted in a rich inviting red. The hardware is copper to match the kettle. The upper floor is plaster painted with a cerulean blue and framed in heavy dark wood beams. There are no windows visible from the front.
The left-side building is identical, save that the upper story is painted in a peachy pink. The bridge between is made of stone and timber. All three roofs are set with copper tile, equally verdigrised as the kettle fountain and each side has two stone chimneys. The waitress is transfixed and stares openly, mouth agape.
***
@Henry, The florist's breath catches and she snorts as she wakes suddenly. She looks around groggily and smacks her lips, trying to moisten a dry mouth. She fishes around the table top for a moment before bending to pick up a pair of bent wire glasses with a broken lens. Placing them on her face, she looks at you and Matthias and jumps back with a start. "Oh, pardon me! I was not expecting to see a city guard and a paladin in my establishment! Am I under arrest again? What was it this time? I assure you my permits are renewed and in order." She stands and begins making her way toward a door a the back of the room you never would have known was there for all of the foliage obscuring it. "Come, I can show you. And I assure you, I haven't been growing anything you need concern yourself with." She pauses with her hand on the doorknob as your words finally make it past hers and she processes them. She looks intrigued and mischievous. "Well, Mandrake Extract... that might be the exception. It'll cost you."
Eve:
Anwen looked up at the bridge, then the kettle, then the teacup, then the two buildings. She grinned, slightly giddy from the extensive measures they went to for appearance. “And this is one reason I travel,” Anwen whispered before taking the waitress’ hand and hurrying off to the right building to start their inquiry there. “The people, the places, the culture. All reasons to travel!”
Austin:
Henry sees the woman’s demeanor change as he mentions the mandrake. “Well then the cost is us looking the other way that you have it in the first place. After all Mathias is perfectly in his justification to confiscate it. But if you cooperate we will rake what we need and be on our way.” Henry says knowing he did not have much money. And likely not enough to pay black market rates.
Reagan:
@Anwen, The waitress nods. It's certainly very aesthetic. I should have gotten a job here!" She follows you inside.
As soon as your feet touch the red floor rug a little bell rings. You are hit with the smell of fresh tea leaves, coffee grounds, vanilla beans, and a lesser smell of port wine. A green-eyed man with fiery red hair and freckles smiles at you as he opens a black leather notebook and pulls a quill from a chest pocket inside his white coat. He looks expectant, but allows you a moment to gawk.
The dark hard wood floor glistens with a fresh coat of polish. All over the room are scattered about twenty small, round tables, each with a dark green table cloth, two dark red leather chairs and a white and gold candle that smells of vanilla set on a saucer. There is a matching green rug under each table just larger than the top surface. Most of the seats are occupied by patrons sipping from teacups and reading well-worn books. Two tables have just one occupant, and three are empty. Waiters and waitresses dressed in white pants, shoes, and gloves with dark red, green, or blue coats bustle about attending to every need.
To the left of the room is a stone fireplace large enough to walk into. There is currently no fire lit, but a few copper lanterns rest on stumps where the logs would normally sit, surrounded by garlands of ivy. The mantle is cluttered with copper kettles in numerous sizes, shapes, and levels of weathering. Tea leaves grow in each one.
To either side of the fireplace is a large curving bookshelf--- the kind that requires a sliding ladder to reach the top. As your eyes follow them up, you see that even the ceiling is painted with pictures of red-skinned fire spirits creating fire to light a campfire, green-skinned wood nymphs growing plants, and blue-skinned water spirits guiding rivers toward a knight errant depicted in the center of the mural brewing tea in a copper kettle--- The Copper Kettle. Copper and crystal chandeliers are hung strategically so as to avoid obscuring the mural.
The right side of the wall is all gray stone. Waist high stones surround a koi pond where you can see copper coins scattered about the bottom. Water streams over from copper pipes near the ceiling like a waterfall.
At the far end of the room, the hardwood floor gives way to white tile offset by the occasional dark blue tile. A pair of swinging double doors lead into the kitchen. To either side is a curved staircase going up to the next floor with a dark blue runner.
"Good afternoon! How may I help you?" The greeter says once he knows you've had enough time to take in all the sights. "You appear to be a traveling minstrel of some persuasion by your garb, unless I miss my mark." He observes looking you over as he cleans the nib of his writing utensil. "I'm afraid the theater hall and bedrooms are across the street. But you are welcome to sit for a hot beverage and a good book or enjoy the bathhouse and sauna upstairs before making your way across the street." He taps his quill nib against the lip of an ink pot. "May I have your name?"
***
@Henry,
The woman looks at you sourly. "What do two supposed law abiding types want with Mandrake anyway? I hardly think I'm the only, or perhaps even most, suspicious person in this shop right now. I've been very open. Would you not agree?"
"And speaking of being open..."She speaks again before you can answer and opens the back door and are attacked with the smell of mold, garlic and stagnant water and something rotten or fermented. You see it is about half the size of the first room.
One corner has a small make-shift "kitchenette", with rough wood planks balanced precariously on empty crates and a rain barrel serving as countertops. The barrel has a spigot, like those use to tap maple trees, spiked into it. A slow leak drips into a reddish puddle slowly spreading across the concrete floor. A few boards are nailed to the wall as shelves, laden with a broken or chipped dishes, some of them still with bits of dried food. More dishes are piled in a claw-foot tub full of dirty water and, to the woman's credit, half a bar of lye soap.
A pot of some unidentifiable liquid you hope is soup bubbles on top of a cast iron wood stove with a crooked chimney. You didn't see smoke from the chimney outside and suspect the flue might be shut.
A hundred or so corked glass bottles, filled at different levels with various colored liquid. the opposite corner. Some are stacked up in towers like children's blocks and some are scattered about. More than a few lay on their sides and one of the tower's spires lays in a half-million tiny shards. A battered broom stick lays in the midst of the wreckage, likely having fallen from where it had been leaned against the wall, plastered with newspapers, an eviction notice from two years prior, tickets for various fines, an herbology license, and an out of date business license.
Garlic and other herbs hang from the rafters. A ladder leans against one of the wood ceiling beams. A sheet of plywood laid across three of the beams, a nest of old couch cushions, and a sleeping bag must be her bedroom.
The entire rest of the floor space is filled with ceramic flowerpots full of dirt with long ovular green leaves sprouting out in an overlapping pattern, like rose petals. A door stands partially ajar at the far end of the room, held open by a stone frog statue.
"I have a business to run so I can pay off some debts and buy some new furniture. You know where I can get a good chair, by the way? Not the ladder-back kind with all the bars. They hurt my back."
Eve:
Anwen had been about to ask the waitress a question about looking for work before she was amazed by the architecture and decor.
Anwen slowly took in the entire room, spinning around herself to take in all in. She was struck with the sudden need to learn the lore of this Kettle but quickly shook her head.
Anwen keeps a grin on her face as she makes her way up to the front desk. She glanced down at her robes and gave a small laugh before, nodding.
“Good afternoon! Oh dear, I knew whatever building I picked it would of course be the other one,” Anwen sighed but kept her smile. “My name? I certainly don’t mind giving it but traveling has taught me the importance of a name. Is this a guest log or a visitor log of sorts?”
Mod
Henry looks into the new revealed room and nods at the woman's sour expression trying to look unfazed by her offense. "I suppose you have been open so we will be open too. We were conducting a sting on an illegal tavern operation. And a few people were accidentally turned to stone. We know mandrake root in a sort of tea should help them regain their former forms. Now like I said before, we will just need some Mandrake roots then we will leave you be." He explained to her. Hoping she could sense his honesty.
Reagan:
@Anwen, The Maitre D' nods back. His mouth twitches slightly and his brow wrinkles for the barest fraction of a second but he doesn't drop his grin. "Let us address your statements and queries by order of operations." He ticks off a list on his fingers as he speaks.
"Firstly, if the theater was, in fact, as you claim, your intended destination, and you had entered the pink building across the street, you would have found what you were seeking. Were you, perhaps, under the impression that the interior space within was or would be capable of shifting from one location to the other and/or vise-versa? Very non-Euclidean of you." He dips the quill and lets the ink chamber fill.
"Secondly, Yes! This is indeed a guest book or a visitor log of sorts. Very perceptive!" There is no hint of irony or sarcasm in his voice as He hands you the utensil.
"Thirdly, your concern regarding your name is to be commended.
You are clearly more well-traveled than I assumed. But I assure you, your caution is misplaced. We at The Copper Kettle take identity fraud very seriously. We would be honored to receive our guests without guise or pretense. However, should you wish to provide an alias, moniker, nom-de-plume or sobriquet, it shall be respected. However squared--- that is, to the power of two--- we sincerely request--- nay, I daresay, we beg you to withhold, exclude, or forego any titles or honorifics, please!" He puts his palms together and holds his hands out in a pleading gesture then straightens. "Ahem!" He clears his throat.
"That being said, should you still wish to conceal your identity, I have a few suggestions."
@Henry, The woman nods at you. "How noble! Tell you what. Bring me a drink and a chair from that little speakeasy and I'll take it as payment for services rendered. Don't worry. I won't make you run back and forth. I'll help you first as a gesture of good faith. You'll find beeswax in my safebox. Plug your ears--- both of you! Don't pull the Mandrakes up by the leaves. Grip 'em where they join the root. And watch the teeth!" She points to one of the crates under the boards. "I'll be out back getting my still ready when you're done."
Eve:
Anwen had raised her eyebrow at the beginning of the Maitre D' speech before she laughed softly. "Luck being what luck is, it may be very non-Euclidean of me but luck still finds a way.
"However, I am very happy to write my name," she reassured. Anwen took the pen and swiftly wrote her name with a flourish, having practiced her penmanship often growing up and slowly developed her own kind of signature. "Anwen Blodwen, pleased to make your acquaintance. While the amenities here sound more than wonderful, not only am I currently in the pursuit of earning money but also have an appointment to keep after. Is there anything about the pink building I should know about before heading over to inquire about entertainment work?"
Austin:
Henry nods and thanks the woman then turns to Matthias. “Do you know how to harvest the syrup from the mandrakes? He asks the captain as he goes to stuff his ear full of beeswax.
Reagan:
@Anwen, "Alas, you make an excellent point. Luck is a fickle mistress they say. They being anyone aside from those liars and charlatans who run casinos. But I digress. Surely I especially would be remiss to rebuke or chide you for over-cautiousness or paranoia.
I am glad this brings you joy, Miss Anwen Blodwen." The Maitre D' says cheerfully. His Cheshire grin seems to widen. "Joy, like luck, can also be a wonderful yet fleeting phenomenon. I, likewise, am ecstatic and elated to cross paths with such an individual as yourself who finds beauty and enjoyment in the small and mundane bits of existence. Cherish this deeply and hold on to it tightly as you would the most precious of jewels.
I do regret that we must part ways before our conversation has truly begun its course, but I too have duties and I do not want to prevent or delay you from fulfilling yours. However, allow me to answer your final query before you continue. Inquire not about employment but for an audition of your talent, for they wish you to demonstrate a love for the craft and not merely a desire for monetary gain. This is a lengthier, more involved process, but will pay dividends in more ways than in the financial or fiduciary sense.
Also, avoid referring to your perspective field as just "entertainment" for this has connotations where the vestments of your profession may be regarded as... optional. Be specific in your talents as a poet, singer, or musician.
I apologize that I cannot provide any letters of recommendation or appraisal of your character as might be expected in many places of business, for I possess no ability in that area, but I appreciate you seeking my guidance and I hope it serves you well. I sincerely wish you the best in your endeavors. May our paths cross again in the near future."
***
@Henry, Matthias shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. But I got the impression that's what she was getting ready to help us with. She mentioned a still. That means "Moonshine, and that requires cold water." He looks over his shoulder at the door then grabs one end of the planks to help you lift them up. He begins digging through the crates and hands you a wad of beeswax and some heavily worn leather gloves you know would be oversized for just about anyone before pulling out a battered notebook. Between the pages of hastily scribbled numbers in a spidery hand and crude drawings of various carnivorous flora, are some legal documents on loose leaf parchment. "Huh. These are up to date licenses. She was telling the truth." He scratches his brow, shaking his head increduously.
Eve:
Anwen listened joyfully before giving one final, soft laugh.
"Ah, so this establishment takes the craft very seriously. That is a pleasure to hear. So thank you very much and I do hope to cross paths with you once again," she politely bowed and bid farewell. Anwen turned back to the waitress and walked with her back to the door, gently nudging her and whispering: "If you need new employment here, I would definitely check out here. Maybe our performance can put you in a good light."
Austin:
Henry nods “well lets get ready then go to her.” He put the bees wax in then puts the gloves on. Then he goes to look for the woman to show her that he was ready to proceed. Henry then realized what the woman meant and went over to the mandrakes and gripped one by the stem to try and pull it out.
Reagan:
@Anwen, The waitress smiles and nods. "Yes! I will definitely be back after we check out the other building." She practically skips across the cobblestones and spins as she reaches the door. Her skirts float up around her knees and she hastily smooths them. "Sorry," she says, though she shows no signs of embarrassment. She opens the door for you.
Inside is a twenty by twenty foot room with black carpet woven with images of stars and planets on every wall, floor, and ceiling. Every corner contains a magical bubble of light that ebbs and flows between blue, green, and pink. At the far end of the room is a mahogany double door. To either side of the room is a curved desk littered with playbills and programs.
Behind the left is a huge orc with green skin, enormous muscles, and a severe underbite. His tusks are as long as your thumbs. His thick black hair is neatly combed and a curl falls across his forehead above brass goggles with glass lenses at least an inch thick. The ends of the leather straps flop around above his comparatively small ears. He is wearing a purple and gray knit vest without sleeves over a white shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. He is counting pamphlets and organizing then in piles.
To the right is a girl you almost missed, wearing black coveralls and a black beret. Her skin and hair can only be described as translucent silver and seem to both absorb and reflect the lights, giving it the illusion of movement and rapid growth.
@Henry, You pull up the first mandrake without issue and are horrified to see what looks like a tiny old man with elongated limbs, curled in a fetal position, wrinkled, and naked as a baby bird. It has a color like a yam and papery smooth bark like stripped river birch but it looks far too similar to skin. You hand it to Matthias who looks equally uncomfortable. As you begin to pull the next one, you feel your hands start to sweat.
Austin: [Extrapolated from table talk for narrative clarity]
Henry starts to pull out a third mandrake.
Reagan:
@Anwen, As soon as you speak to the girl with the beret, she looks up with a start and a tiny gasp. Her silver-gray eyes meet yours for just a fraction of a second before they turn gold and pupiless. Just as suddenly, in the span of a blink, you find yourself staring at a mirror image of yourself. "Oh, uh..." She makes a conscious effort to revert back to her original appearance. "Forgive that. You startled me. Umm... go through those doors," she points to the double doors. "Take a left and go past the stairs. You'll see Mr. Tremblelance's office. Umm... Did you want a program or a pamphlet?"
@Austin, You pull the gloves a little more snug and are able to maintain control over the ill-fitting fingers. and pull a second mandrake out. At the sight of the ugly little root, you can feel sweat bead on your forehead and a slight nauseous sensation in your stomach. You hand it to Matthias so he now has two and figure you should also take two for yourself.
Eve:
Anwen looked around the wonderful, glorious foyer. She managed to contain her excitement until she saw the silver woman and her eyes widened in complete astonishment and shock. Anwen double-checked her appearance, ensuring she looked respectable, before making her way over to the woman.
"Excuse me, could you tell me where I could inquire about booking an audition? I am a traveling bard that would be honored to display my skills at such a wonderful and beautiful establishment," Anwen spoke quietly but surely, resisting the urge to be outright rude and as for the woman's ancestry.
Anwen blinked in surprised and held back a small sigh of disappointment when the reflection was closer to herself than the woman appeared to be. She smiled and nodded. "Oh I would love one, thank you. And absolutely not an issue. That is a wonderful and useful gift to have. You must be absolutely stellar on the stage," Anwen reassured and complimented before taking the pamphlet.
Anwen turned back to the waitress and motion for her to follow, before heading to the double doors.
Reagan:
@Anwen, "Okay. Well, umm... thank you, I guess. Good luck." You hear as the door closes behind you.
"She seems nice." A deeper voice says.
"She didn't even ask your name." The girl says quietly.
You look at the pamphlet and see it is illustrated with pictures of thespians and performers. 'Enroll Today!' the text reads with a tagline reading, "Find out if you qualify for our internship program or collegiate courses today!" It folds out into multiple panels, explaining the various core values of the courses, but before you can really take a closer look, a pair of gnomes carrying a large mirror bumps into you.
"Excuse us! Sorry." "Mind opening the door?" "The purple one!"
Mod
The hall beyond the lobby goes off in both directions with several, brightly painted doors all along. The carpeting continues, but this space seems brighter. Two sets double doors stand in front of you, each marked with a white smiling mask and a white crying mask. Near the far end of each side of the hall is a wide staircase leading upward. Several people, come in and out of the rooms.
An older, nervous looking man with a puppet. A harengon girl in coattails pulling a bouquet of carrots, lettuce, and celery from a tophat. A pair of long-limbed Elvish twin dancers in matching leotards. A moody boy with pale skin and black and gray striped clothes sitting in a corner reading aloud from a script. A little human girl with blonde pigtails asks each person if she can paint their face and is met with only chuckles. Her smile never fades from her freckled, gap-toothed face. She bounces up to you. "Care for some face paint?"
@Henry, The nausea churns your stomach and a sense of vertigo sets in. You fall to your knees and drop the mandrake as Matthias yells and vainly tries to catch it. The extended limbs of the root stretch and try to lash at you but still lack the reach.
Eve:
Anwen gave a small smirk, overhearing the other room. She barely had a moment to take in the room before the two gnomes made their way over. “Oh dear! Of course!”
Anwen quickly opened the purple door for them and waited until they passed before closing it. She slowly made her way through the hall, jaw slightly dropped in wonder and amazement. Anwen noticed each performer and smiled and watched them each with the same amount of interest and respect.
She looked down at the girl, glancing back at the waitress, before smiling wide. “Can you do a small design on my check? How much would it be?”
_____________________________________________________
Reagan:
Galileo Bay is a small port/ fishing town based on the crescent shaped archipelago on the northeastern coast of Hyara. The water here is said to be so smooth that it reflects the stars at night. A stone lighthouse, known as “The Lantern” stands atop a high cliff made of smooth white limestone. The docking fee is 2 shillings for a small ship and 4 for a large ship.
A dark, heavy storm hangs low over Compass Pointe. Clouds drift in from the sea to blend with a thick fog, like the sailors who have come ashore to kiss their wives after a long voyage. A cold, driving rain soaks the men's simple cotton garb and the ladies' silk dresses alike, but does little to dampen their spirits. Though the poorly cobbled streets stand ankle deep in water, the happy tears that rolled down many a cheek could almost have competed if measured by the drop. They quickly move on after an embrace and a few blubbering words, heading toward the township proper, somewhere behind the colorful facades that serve as the port's municipality buildings.
A weather-beaten stone lighthouse stands over the churning Galileo Bay nearby. Its rotating lamp illuminate the scene with a warm amber glow, but it otherwise looks like it might have been long abandoned. The keeper's shelter is little more than a small cottage built of the same stones and adjoined so that it shares a wall with the tower. The only entrance was a thick, oaken door that has likely been on a ship before it was retired. There were a few broken crates littered about the tiny patch of weeds that might be considered a yard, but there was no decor to dress it.
You stand under the dripping eaves of the governor's office, a limestone box that could have been a mausoleum had it not been painted with a fresh coat of pale yellow paint. It is wedged, third from the left, into a row of six other similar buildings painted in a pastel rainbow. They are all two-stories high with tall front faces, long profiles, elaborately carved keystones at the top of arched doorways, and three steps leading up to the entrances, with wrought-iron hand rails.
A few harbor masters in blue, gray, and brown woolen coats exchange words with the captains of the Calliaglosian merchant vessels docked at the seaport. Though they have the bearing of nobles, these gentlemen's fashion seem militaristic, or at least inspired by it. Instead of the rich jacketed suits and frilly shirts you associate with aristocracy, they wear double-breasted coats, tailored at the chest and arms, with high stiff collars and several buttons. The front falls to the knees, while the back lands mid- calf like a tail coat. This "skirt" was split as if for riding. You suspect the tall, thin captain in the red must be your contact.
The summons you received spoke vaguely on the nature of rumors regarding a particularly charismatic political organization that has taken root in the port city. They had somehow gained the approval of the population and were slowly being offered positions of power.
Naturally, foul-play was on the minds of those whose popularity was now dwindling, and Calliaglos was the primary suspect.
Austin:
Henry the squire walks through the streets. Water plinking off of his metal skull cap. He stopped under some shelter and pulls out the letter of summons he has received. He looked to the horror masters talking to the captain of a vessel that seemed to match the description of the man who summoned him. He put the letter away and trudged back through the rain. He needed to warm his boots after this rain. He thought to remind himself.
Reagan:
At the sound of splashing footfalls approaching, the harbor masters and the Calliaglosian merchant captain turn toward you. "Move along! This is an official procedure." One of the gray coated men barks at you. The captain, however, gives you a warm smile. "Can I help you, Sir?"
Austin:
Henry smiled at the grey coated harbor master. Showing that he meant no trouble. He then nodded to the captain. “Oh don’t let me interrupt you both. I just was supposed to meet this captain here today. I’m just glad we both got here safely. By all means I’m happy to wait my turn. Henry says trying to remain friendly as he moved to another place of shelter and watched the group converse. He took this moment to look over the ship the captain came on.
Reagan:
The captain nods, acknowledging your answer. He spends a minute longer talking with the harbor master before shaking his hand. ((Make a perception check. Can you add everyone's passive, by the way?)) He then walks back over to you and gestures for you to follow him, then heads toward a sailor's bar called "The Siren's Song." The sign above the doorway is painted light blue and features a busty mermaid laying on her belly. Her hands are under her chin, propped on her elbows, and her fish's tail arches over her back in a half circle. The fins and her sea-star filled gold hair frame her cherubic, winking face. As soon as the door is open, you can hear piano music and a man singing.
Austin:
Henry nods and follows the captain. Watching as they enter the bar. He was curious as to what business they would conclude there.
Reagan:
Inside the bar, your nostrils are immediately assaulted by the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat. The wooden floorboards look worn but clean and a bit shiny, as if coated in a varnish. To your immediate left, against the wall, is a billiards table where two men are playing and a third is waiting his turn.
Above that is a small round table where a man sits by himself with a deck of cards, playing some sort of solitaire.
Above him, in the far corner, is an upright piano played by a man in an ornate blue coat with tails reaching the floor. An old man is siting next to him in cushioned chair with a docile look of contentment on his face.
At the far end of the room is the bar. A sad-faced barkeep is polishing a collection of wooden pipes and laying them out on the counter for the patrons and dancing theatrically to the music. A blue kerchief is knotted at his throat.
Along the left side, are more round tables, these larger than the cardplayer's. Most are empty, but one is occupied by three merchants in outdated gentlemen's fashion. They are surrounded by their wares in leather steamer trunks.
At another table two mismatched men are talking. One appears to be a scholar with spectacles and thinning hair. He is writing in a heavy leatherbound book with a quill. The other man is a grizzled sailor with bushy sideburns and a Hyaran Navy uniform.
A waitress in a blue apron makes her rounds with a tray, handing out drinks to everyone, including you and the captain. "Hey, Sweethearts!" She coos, causing everyone to look up, but they go back to what they were doing as soon as the door closes.
Eve:
Anwen had found her way through the town to 'The Siren's Song'. She currently sat at one of the side tables, a pint of cheap liquor beside her, as she had some papers laid out in front of her.
One was a map of the city and surrounding areas. Anwen was doing her best to commit it to memory so she did not appear to be too much more of a traveler than she already was. On top of the map were a few trinkets she had found during her travels, holding the map unfurled and in place. A drawing of her parents and the two-faced brooch was also resting on top of the map.
Lastly, in her hands Anwen held the note she had received. A summons. How she managed to get one, she did not know. It felt like pure chance that Anwen was holding it. A few towns from here she had stopped to rest and was told before leaving that a message had arrived for her.
Anwen peered over her map, pointing at where she was now and where she needed to go. She frowned, pleased it wasn't far but annoyed she had not mastered a way to gently float above the water. Sure she easily dried her cloak and shoes with magic but the sensation of them becoming soaked and having to not seem to unapproachable as she annoyedly magicked them clean was a tad bit bothersome.
Anwen's head perked up as she heard two people enter, blinking her pupilless, gold eyes at them as she paused a moment. Do I even have to walk? Surely I am not lucky enough for, what's the word? She glanced back down at the summons. Contact, ooo how exciting, to simply waltz right in?
This thing did not give much of a time frame, did it? I can surely meet up with the. . . contact tomorrow?
Austin:
Henry turns to the Captain. "Are we meeting others or will this conversation be between us?" He asked as he waited for the captain to lead them to a place to sit. He noticed many people in the bar and even a woman who looked like she had her own summons.
Reagan:
The captain's brow furrows as he follows Henry's gaze. "We were supposed to. I didn't expect her to arrive here first." He leads you to the table and takes a seat. "Excuse me Ma'am. How's the booze?" He asks the snow-haired woman.
Eve:
Upon noticing strangers approaching, Anwen quickly folded the summons and put it in her cloak. She looked up as the gentleman sat down, side glancing at the second, as she spoke: “A lovely refreshment after a long journey.”
Anwen began clearing off the table, gathering her trinkets and drawing and map. She rolled it up and set it in the small traveling bag with her.
Despite the mention of a long journey, Anwen’s clothes appeared spotless and features awake and alert. It seemed impossible to find signs of exhaustion or past troubles or even any kind of financial issue though perhaps the lack of food and the cheapest booze on the table was a sign of that.
Austin:
Henry sat down at the table and looked at the white haired woman. Figuring to himself that she mist be magical due to the near perfect state she was in. Yet her choice in food and drink hinted that she lacked money. “Well then maybe the good captain can order us more while we talk.” He said trying to remain friendly and open.
Reagan:
As the music continues to play, your thoughts begin to feel cloudy and unfocused.
The captain shakes his head. "No... no... Don't... Don't." He blinked and looks at the pair of you with glassy eyes. "A drink. Yes. Yes. Cheers!" He picks up his mug and brings it to his lips.
You begin to feel a bit sleepy, and a warmth settles over you. It is very comfortable here. The music is like a lullaby, the alcohol like a glass of warm milk. Time seems to be at a standstill here. You start to settle back into your chair a little more.
Then suddenly, you take notice of the captain's vacant expression. The rest of the patrons in the room are moving sluggishly, eyes equally as foggy and blank. You realize that you have no idea how long it's been since you walked in. There are no clocks or candles to mark the passage of time, nor windows through which to track the sun. The space is illuminated by a cloud of magic that casts an equal glow over everything. There is an amber flickering of false firelight, but the shadows are inconsistent, changing angles or coming from multiple directions at once. Even as you become aware of it, you have to shake the cobwebs from your mind as the feeling starts to creep back over you.
Austin:
Henry can feel his mind being affected by the magic but he has luckily been able to withstand it for now. He stands up quickly and pulls put his sword. “There is magic afoot. Who ever is casting this numbing spell cease it immediately.” He says not trusting magic. Especially the kind that attempted to affect him directly.