Paint hides the decay, the rot lurking just below the make-up. Grease paint holds the whole, hollow mess in place.
Opium dens and insectum houses flourish here. Their foreign masters smile as they welcome customers and promise to take away their unhappiness, their monotony, their being, and make something new. Here dreams really do come true, in a sense - illusion creates the possible, and here forbidden illusory magicks have become something deeper, something darker.
The Fetch - the undead of the city - thrive here. Their own souls are so near to the lands beyond life, they are almost able to touch Heaven. So close, so achingly close, that its presence drives them mad.
From the gifted painter to the anarchist puppeteer, all find a home here, cringing below the madness of the Jumble, offering relief from Toiltown, and bringing a smile to faces that have forgotten how to grin. Everything can be found here — everything — from the music halls, to the drug-pits, to the murdering quarters, all things are commodity and; therefore, have a price.
Enter this jumbling madness carefully my friend, and don’t look too closely behind the face-paint, what lurks there might wipe the smile from your face…
Oh yes, this place - this smear of cultures beneath the shadow of the Capitol on the opposite bank of the Lyme - is a world away from the parochial pleasures and tranquility of Wicken… was it what they expected? Those travellers? Lodgings had been easy to find, there are as many taverns and inns within Castorhage as there are vile names for the inhabitants of this Blighted city… a days exploration through the city had led them to this place, the ‘Dancing Angel’ drinking house in the district of Artist’s Quarter - their travelling gear stowed and their victuals chosen for an early evening meal, the group of travellers - so obviously new to the city - relax…
Oscar's new outfit disguised his noble status, but nothing disguised the look on his face. It was obvious to the predatory instincts of the cutpurses and conmen of Castorhage that here was a rube; fresh out of the country, head reeling from his first encounter with The City.
Undoubtedly had Oscar been responsible for negotiating their lodgings they'd have lost a whole coin purse. Fortunately Oscar's disguise had necessitated letting another make such financial arrangements.
Now he sat at the table, a glass of what could charitably be called rum in his hand, and raised a toast to the odd ensemble before him. "We made it!" he called "To Castorhage, and to us!"
Velrun remembers staring about the various buildings and streets of the Blight a look of fascination...mixed with horror and disgust.
She...CAME to this place? By all the Gods...WHY?
He nurses his wine glass lost and brooding in his thoughts, wondering where to begin his search. The toast offered by Oscar jolts him back to this sorry reality, "Yes...to us and to this wonderfully charming place!" Setting down his glass he lowers his voice, "What are we to do now? Our funds are not...endless.
Euphemia spent the trip to Castorhage lively with the sort of elation that could only be found in young countrypeople finally travelling from their simple lives in sleepy rural towns for the first time — eager to point out any landmarks or particularly beautiful sights the group passed along the way, and beaming with anticipation as the city finally came into sight.
The reality of Castorhage dampened her spirits only a little.
As the group came into the city she had the tact to be quieter and more infrequent about pointing out the strange sights (of which Euphemia deemed there to be many) so as to not draw excessive attention to the group, but anyone watching her could have clearly seen her gaze darting this way and that as she tried to drink in as many of the sights as she could.
----
In the present she sits at the table with the rest of the group, donned in a simple brown dress over a cream-colored blouse with a sash of red cloth tied around her hips. She lifts her glass of cheap cider in response to Oscar's toast, chiming in with, "To Castorhage and adventure!"
Soft blue eyes shift to Velrun at his worries and she offers him a small smile, "If we run low on money before we're done here, I'm sure we can find some way to make some more, but let us not worry about it before it is an issue."
As the group entered the city, Tessara seemed to become more aware of her surroundings. The gloom from the city was almost palpable. She couldn’t remember her last time here or the feelings she had then, but the ill thoughts from everywhere seemed to boost her somehow. It was a strange sensation that she was unable to explain.
One thing was for sure, alright. The half elf didn’t have much coin. If she were to find her father, she would have to find a way to afford her room. ”Velrun, I’m sure if we ask around the tavern that someone will be looking to hire one or more of us for some unsavory task,” she whispered.
At Velrun's words Oscar's face took on a pained expression as he contemplated finances, oaths and friendship. "Look..." he said finally "I have a small allowance I should be able to draw on. I'm oathbound to only use it in certain ways, but I should be able to keep us fed and housed, if not to the standard we might like." he nodded to Velrun "I do think that acquiring employment is an excellent idea, but I'm afraid I'm a little picky about what jobs we accept. While I could skirt the edge of legality, I'm not prepared to actually cross it. I've no interest in spending the limited time I have here in learning to become a... a baker or something. If we ever reach the point where we'd be forced to do some degrading act to survive, we should simply return to Wicken." he smiled wanly "It'll take a while to acquire access though - so until I do we'll need to live on what we have on us."
Drin made his way through the city wide-eyed and full of trepidation. As they made their way to the tavern he couldn't help but wonder, Why would people be livin here.
As the conversation at the table focused on finances Drin considered his near empty coin purse and realized he really hadn't put much thought into this journey. The halfling silently cursed himself for being a fool and sat glumly at the table until Oscar made his offer.
"That would would be right down neighborly of ye me lordsh... um I be be meaning good Master Oscar sir," Drin said with his lopsided grin as he remembered Oscar was concealing his noble status.
"I'm sure we have plenty of coin to last us for at least a while," Euphemia continues to assure, taking another sip of her cider as she finishes speaking. "So! What do we want to be doing tomorrow? Keep exploring the city, or find somewhere more specific to spend our day? — Velrun, what was it you wanted to do in Castorhage, again?"
Velrun looks at Euphemia with a look of uncertainty on his face. "Well, her name is Eliseera though I always new her as Elsie. I...I am doing this because she...helped me...bebome who i am today. Now I have not heard from her in several months and I am worried." He gulps the last of his wine down and sets the empty glass down a little too hard. "I just have no idea where to start looking!"
Reluctant to be the bearer of bad tidings Drin hesitated, "Umm... It might be that this Elsie... Well what I mean to be sayin... Could be she might have been fallin down a well." The halfling shook his head knowingly, "Been known to happen, even in cities I be guessin. Best we go where she use to be livin and have her neighbors point out the nearest well."
”I’d like to fit in a trip to visit with some of the ‘primative’ elves . I’m looking for the one who crafted this pipe,” the half elf says as she produces the pipe and puts it on the table in front of the rest of the crew. ”Apparently this talented craftsman is my father.”
"I'd rather hoped to go to a theatre at some point, but I'm willing to help friends with their task as well." Oscar says amiably, glancing at Euphemia when he says the word 'theatre'.
"Tessara's quest." Oscar is obviously uncomfortable with the familiarity of first names, but follows his companions lead "Should prove easy enough. We go to where the elves are, show the maker's mark, and follow directions. Do you anticipate the reunion will be amicable, Tessara?"
"Drin's tactic is a good one, Velrun - not that I think the lady has fallen down a well. If we go to the area she was last seen in, and you show your picture around, maybe someone can reassure you as to her wellbeing. Do you know where it was?"
"Well," Velrun pauses for a moment before adding, "I don't really know where she is located," looking embarrassed. "I did get a contact name which should help us here: a 'Baron' Larrieux Montpierre, who is said to reside here. He supposedly knows her and would be the most...trustworthy of her contacts."
Oscar looks blank "I can't quite place the name." he apologises.
Drin's eyes dart back and forth as he followed the conversation at the table. His eyes got wide when he saw Tessara's pipe, "That be right purdy but how does she smoke?"
When Lord Harwell complimented his idea the wiry halfling blushes, I'm not willing to rule out the bit about the well yet."
Trying to change the subject from nobles and such the halfing tentatively asked, "What is this theater you be wanting to visit Lord...Master Oscar sir? If it be like a privy or such I might be needin' to visit it meself."
"What is... well. The theatre. It's art. A story, acted out by professionals. One of the best stories. Have you ever read "Lecroix's revenge"? I saw that one, once, as a play in the theatre when I was nine - it was a special treat." Oscar stutters to a stop. "Well, there must be other things to see in - was it called the Artist's Quarter? Yes? I dare say a quick trip through would find any number of fascinating things."
”I’ve never smoked anything with it. It just....didn’t seem right for some reason. It probably sounds stupid, but I can’t say exactly why,” she says quietly.
Turning to Oscar, she tries to answer his query as well. ”I don’t know exactly how the reunion will go. I’ve got a lot of conflicted things running through my head. I have no idea what he will think, however. I hope it will be okay.”
The day has been long and, for some of those gathered here at least, the city holds many secret dreams… but tonight will be their first full night in Castorhage and simply enjoying the food and drink on offer at this tavern, passable though it may be, somehow doesn’t seem enough of a celebration. After all, by simple chance, the villagers are in the Artist’s Quarter… a place of entertainment, of culture, of enjoyments both benign and bizarre. Surely then, the travellers should explore some of the local colour before they turn their attentions towards other pressing concerns?
…and here, left slowly leaching its inks into a spillage of ale on the bar, is a strange parchment. Advertising the ‘Theatre Infernalis’ as a place of wonderment, of the occult and of ‘things that must be seen to be believed’, it is a sorry looking thing. The barman, apologising as he wipes the spillage clear, glances down at the flier and then looks back to whoever has come up to order the latest round of drinks, ”Way I hear, that place’ll be gone before the month is done… s’pose it’ll be a shame given it’s been here since I can remember – but that’s the way of all things”.
Velrun looks up from his still empty glass, "I don't see how a trip in the Artist Quarter would be a bad thing, it should be quite entertaining. Certainly we can spend some time gawking there before visiting Tessara's father."
Velrun lifts up the parchment looking over its contents briefly, This sounds like a place to separate one man from his coin, he reflects silently.
"You say this place will be gone soon? Why? Did the theatre lose its patronage? Or lost business in some way?"
"It's the owner Chelman, Holy Mother only knows how old he must be... and he's left no heir. Truth be told, it's an age since any mummers nor actors plied their trades on the stage... it's the spookshow that's kept the business afloat for as long as it has - and you'd be foolish to buy into that as a business these days. Time and taste has moved on... and there's far better shows in the 'Quarter'..."
The barman is momentarily wistful, "Doesn't mean it doesn't have its own charms... you thinking about paying it a visit?"
"What is... well. The theatre. It's art. A story, acted out by professionals. One of the best stories. Have you ever read "Lecroix's revenge"? I saw that one, once, as a play in the theatre when I was nine - it was a special treat."
Shaking his head, "Never had much use for reading or letters and such. Nope, me pa said that those arts be makin' your eyes and brain weak."
”I’ve never smoked anything with it. It just....didn’t seem right for some reason. It probably sounds stupid, but I can’t say exactly why,” she says quietly.
The look of confusion and disappointment flashed across Drin's simple face, "What... thats like leavin' a purdy girl unkissed or a fresh pie uneaten." He takes off his hat and looks solemn, "Miss best you be using it for what it was designed for. I'd be right honored to give it a go for ye."
"I've never been to a real theatre before, but I'd love to someday," Euphemia tosses in as the conversation progresses. She props an elbow up on the table to rest her chin in her palm. "I bet there's some nice ones in this city."
She takes another sip of her cider. "Hopefully we'll find your father, Tessa — I can call you Tessa, right? — He seems like a very good craftsman. I'm sure plenty of people will remember him." Blue eyes turn onto the half-elf as Euphemia regards her
"I'm sure there is." Oscar says wistfully to Euphemia, tactfully avoiding correcting Drin's apprehension at the same time as he makes a mental note to ensure he forces some culture into his companion - down his throat if necessary.
This last thought leads to thoughts of drinking, which leads to wondering what has happened to the latest round. A trifle unsteadily he goes to help with the round.
"What've you got there?" he asks Velrun, nodding at the ale-soaked flyer. "Ooh! A theatre!" he turns back to the others and shouts "He found us a theatre!"
I'd rather he found me a privy," Drin says as he squirms on the bench crossing his legs.
Velrun smiles at the nobleman's enthusiasm, though personally the thought of heading to a spook show did not appeal to him. Still it would be best to humor him...
"I don't see how a quick visit would be bad. Who knows, we might learn something there!" His face brightens at the thought, "Maybe this Chelman can help us in return!"
Tessa avoids the question of actually using the pipe for the time being, choosing instead to focus on the flier the group noticed. ”If it is really ready to close, it might be worth a visit, just to say we did. Assuming it doesn’t cost much, that is. And what sort of ‘spookshow’ are you talking about? Sounds strange...”
The barman winks at Tessara when she asks what the Sppokshow is, "Now... If I told yer, well you'd be missing out on the surprise wouldn't yer? As to where it is, just a stone's throw from here - down Black Lantern Avenue and then take a right onto the Script... you'll recognise it when you get there!!! And it's probably one of the cheapest entertainments in the Quarter - just a Pillaster will get you entrance to the show..."
"Shall we vote then?" Oscar is fascinated by democracy. The concept that a large number of self-interested people with limited understanding could be a better solution than a dedicated, trained professional seems laughable. 'Still' he reflects 'when else am I going to get to vote like a commoner.'
Velrun nods slowly, a confused look upon his face, but hesitantly raises his hand in assent.
With his customary lopsided grin plastered on his face the halfling nodded in agreement, "It be seemin' the ye be havin' ye heart set on goin', I'm willin' to accompany ye"
"Let's do it!" Euphemia lifts her cider in another toast, a grin on her lips. "To adventure and a good show!"
Leaving behind the 'Dancing Angel', at least for now, the group head out into the evening bustle of the Artist's Quarter. From the musty atmosphere of the tavern, the group step into an atmosphere of stage-paint and street foods and transience. The stench of greasepaint and the scent of the crowd: tobacco, sweat and perfume hangs heavy in the air. The smell of close life and all that entails is here, its refuse, its joys, its artisanship...
...and down into the 'Script' the group head, a winding street that leads away from the Lyme. The barman was right, the group find their destination easily - the façade of the Theatre Infernalis, constructed of heavy plaster over wire framing, depicts an infernal hellscape where pitchfork-wielding demons throw sinners into a craggy lake of eternal fire. The entire façade has seen better days, with its wire frame exposed in many places, and the plaster worn and eroded - interrupting the façade’s crumbling torment scene is a gaping, demonic face whose toothy maw frames two massive doors that swing open to reveal the lobby and tavern beyond.
Oscar is apprehensive as he travels through the crowd, but his "disguise" seems to pass - at least for now.
The facade is a disappointment. 'At the price, I can hardly afford high art' he reminds himself 'and perhaps it'll be an easy introduction for Drin.'
"Well this looks like it." he announces, and pushes boldly through the maw-doors.
Velrun stares up at the facade of the Theatre seeing how faded and worn it is. Fighting back a growing sense of apprehension he silently follows behind Oscar eyes darting about nervously.
Once again, Tessa seemed bolstered by all the ruckus and the gathering of the downtrodden packed together in the city. She’d never felt a strange rush quite like this before. She shook her head, clearing her question filled brain as she takes in the theatre in front of her. She takes a deep breath as she admires the decor. ”Spookshow is right,” she whispered to the others.
Drin hesitated for a moment before passing through the gaping maw. He squared his shoulders and marched through with the rest of his companions and agreed with Tessara, "Yep, right spooky."
Euphemia trots after the others, eyes alight with curiosity as she considers the theatrically macabre exterior of the building — even its sorry state of disrepair seems to add to the air of menace and anticipation it exudes, in Euphemia's mind. "I bet it'll be fun. Come on, let's see what lay within!"
The lobby is decorated in heavy plaster that makes it appear as if patrons have stepped into a giant, infernal cave. Flames dance from burning crucibles that flare up unexpectedly, and demonic faces occasionally spring forth from hidden recesses to startle passers by. The rear of the spacious establishment holds a dimly lit, yet busy bar offset by nearby display cases stuffed with all manner of esoteric ephemera. Several strangely dressed employees tend a ticket stand below wide stairs that lead up to a looming balcony.
A group of patrons, three rather merry gentlemen with a lady, is ascending the stairs toward the spookshow entrance whilst two small groups are waiting to purchase tickets at the ticket stand, and yet another group, this one all ladies and well into their drink, laugh uproariously as they are ejected from the spookshow’s exit on the balcony.
Tall and lithe with a wickedly pointed goatee, the man striding towards the group as they make their way into the theatre has a haughty, disconcerting air and a disarming, diabolic appearance achieved by elaborate, high-collared, extravagant robes covered in esoteric symbolism, and bright red greasepaint that covers his bald head. Greeting the group with a deep and somber bow, he welcomes them with a halted and bellowing, "Welcome, saints — No! Sinners! — to ... the Theatre ... INFERNALIS!"
Cue the excited oohing from Euphemia. She leans in towards the others to quietly whisper, "I can't believe this place is going to be closing down soon! They're all clearly quite dedicated to the craft here if this is just the entrance..."
A beaming smile is given to the man dressed as some devil or other, but she lets someone else respond to his greetings.
"Good evening." Oscar says politely while he casts an eye over the symbolic paraphernalia. "Could you tell us a little about the theatre? It came... recommended."
"Yes," Velrun chimes in, his curiosity over weighing his trepidation here, "We have heard this place is closing down. Why? It seems as if this place would be streaming with patrons!"
Tess held her tongue, wanting to hear more about this place before she jumped in and recommended they stay or not. She wasn’t too keen on spooky things, and wanted to get the whole story.
Drin stays close to Tess as he looks around wide eyed and slacked jawed, best be keepin' me mouth shut around such queer folk.
The man's smile slightly deflates as Velrun immediately turns to the impending closure of the Theatre... but he deflects the question with a simple, "Let us not dwell on such things... such talk is for the light of day but tonight, it is the moon and the stars that hold sway. You are here to celebrate? To enjoy the delights of our show maybe? Come, let me find you a seat... but first, you need tickets?"
- there doesn't seem to be anything obviously arcane here...
Euphemia nods, "We are! And we do need tickets, yes. We should go get in line for them."
The simple halfling considered his dwindling funds as he moved to buy a ticket. Drin hesitated and looked up to Oscar, "You sure this be worth it."
Velrun glances at the halfling with a look of sympathy, "Don't worry Drin, I'll help you out here." He will purchase two tickets for himself and Drin.
"And I'll purchase a ticket for you, Euphemia, if you'll allow." Oscar adds, with a small bow and an arm extended in invitation.
Tess hands over her coin, doubting there would be anything worthwhile. But she hoped to meet someone during the show that ,isn’t have work available somewhere in town, Stramger things have happened, she thought to herself.
"Careful, Oscar, you might make the others jealous," Euphemia teases with a grin as she accepts his offered arm. "But I have no objections."