Thank gods for Aishe—it’s always best to stay as close to the truth as you can when you’re hiding something.
Though Moira’s access to Prestidigitation has shielded her from the nastiest flavors of prison food, nourishment is a lot more than mere taste. Salt—sugar—protein—fat: it has been a long time since any of these passed her lips in any quantity (or quality, Greel’s prison meat doesn’t really count). She recklessly cuts a large slice of bread, builds a layer of salt meat over it, and drizzles honey in generous, artistic zigzags over the ensemble. Topped with another piece of bread, she dips it into her coffee; and she is transfigured with joy. If anyone stares, she grunts “What?” through the heavenly bite she’s chewing, as honey covered crumbs pour down onto her fresh clothes.
Meanwhile she listens to Gride’s story about the young witch. “That sounds awful—do these parents live on Festival? Would they be in mourning, by any chance? Are there any other bereaved nearby? I happen to be a professional mourner...”
After several helpings of food, Moira carefully clears her place and starts writing a few new business cards.
Aishe eats, and eats heartily. Their access to shared rations earlier had but wet his appetite, and now it was fulfilled. He nods and smiles, but very quickly succumbs to the food-coma that a heavy meal can bring.
He leans back in the bleachers, and nods off completely, snoring, not too loudly, but obviously enough. It will be some time before he awakens of his own accord.
More than willing to tuck Audria behind her while mulling all the information flying around. But as important as everything is the promise of a full belly rains supreme. Happily digging in and remaining silent as Aishe proves he has a purpose and is brilliant at it. Though he snores and that is unfortunate.
Assuming the meat isn't anything he wouldn't eat, Rigo will eat slowly, chewing thuroughly, and avoid getting sick by overeating after having been nearly starved. He'd be in bad shape with his bulk if he hadn't been able to eat the rats in the prison.
He'll put away some of the meat in pouch for later, his survival and heal knowledge telling him it's safer to eat a lot of meat over a long period of time rather than gorge and eat a lot in a short period after going without for so long.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Though the food might not be fancy, Salom has never had anything nigh so satisfactory. Throwing fears of poisoned food to the wind, he cuts himself a thick wedge of moldy cheese and chews it lustily, regarding Moira's sandwich-making skills with more than a little interest before attempting a similar construction himself. For all his fine motor skill and practice with diminutive components, his own sandwich is a poor copy, honey dripping all over himself as he tries in vain to hold the damned thing together.
Thea becomes curious as to the surrounding tent, braving to tread a few feet on her own here and there, poking through the sawdust flooring and following the bugs that crawl through the dirt. She lurches back to Salom with her strange mechanized gait, hand extended.
"A spider! Very good." He wipes his sticky fingers on his apron, then digs through his pack before withdrawing a small glass vial filled with a clear liquid. He uncorks it and holds it out for Thea, who nimbly flicks the arachnid into the container. Immediately the liquid begins to fizz and pop, the spider writhing within. Salom corks the vial and places it back into his pack. "We'll make good use of that one. Keep your eye out for more."
Audria manages to eat a little, though her stomach still twists itself into knots.
There is, as far as Rigo is able to tell, nothing wrong with the foods brought into the tent by Gride's man - indeed, as much as the group are relishing their welcome breakfast, Gride is doing so equally with a sandwich, assembled almost as gloriously as Moira's effort, despatched in little time. Over the food he makes small talk, saying that the bereaved parents of 'the witch-girl' have long since moved on, "Although it is good to know a professional mourner... you never know when you might need one of those!!!"
The whole time, indeed from the moment Salom and Thea came into the tent, Gride is watching the strange construct - apparently fascinated he seems ready to ask Salom about the 'girl' yet, constantly interrupting himself with tangential conversation, never quite gets there...
Eventually, and taking Samuel - who had been scowling from the shadows - with him, Gride makes his apologies, "Sorry folks, but I've got Circus business to take care of... it's a busy time of year for us an' there's work needs doing. You are welcome to catch up on some sleep here until Ammos comes back... an if'n you are needing anything just shout".
As he leaves, Gride looks at the slumbering Aishe and grins, "Looks like your friend enjoyed his ride on the Lyme!!! Sleepin' like a baby!!!"
Rigo watches everyone fill their bellies until they distend, and shakes his head, slowly chewing his meat and running it down with water, and more water, his tongue lapping out into a shallow bowl he pours himself, the water vanishing far faster than many would expect from such a form of drinking. His style of eating and drinking easing his stomach back into food again.
"Where is bucket? Some will probably throw up from eating too much too fast after not eating." More words than he's said since he got out of the boat, he directs toward Gride as he begins to make his way out of the circle.
As he slowly chews, he glances around, and then takes more salted meat off the table, polishing the rest off with one paw swipe, and adds it to his belt pouch.
Doing her best to pace herself but accepting that there will be some discomfort later, not like it is the first time anyways. Waving at Gride when he leaves. Once he is gone Alexis starts tucking a few hunks of bread into her backpack. Bread tucked away Alexis looks up at Rigo, "I've been hungrier before. But thank you for the concern."
Rigo huffs. Not worried about them, don't want to be puked on. The thinks to himself, pulling a file out of his belt pouch, and begins to sharpen his claws with care and precision. He looks at them critically.
"Lot of vermin smell around here. Also no light. Think I'll wait outside, miss light." He growls, looking at the dark room.
He moves out of the tent and into the light. He stretches, letting the missed sun warm his fur and body, before returning to sharpening his claws.
Aishe rouses an hour or so after eating, and in some distress. He bends and contorts, trying to work it out, but the pain remains. He grins sheepishly at the rest, "Ahh, it's good to be alive is it not? Ouch!" he doubles over, straightening more slowly.
He does this dance a while, and sips water throughout to try and flush his system - but only sparingly. After a time, this too passes, and he feels, well, not normal. But less horrible.
Grinning he stretches one more time and the pain isn't so bad he thinks. He lowers his voice and leans in to the others still there, "So what's the plan? I'm still a little hazy on how we got out of that damned prison, but I do seem to remember agreeing to kill a bunch of wererat-halflings. Is that right?"
He looks around, to be sure he's not being overheard. "And how are we supposed to do that? They look the same to me, and we can't just go killing every halfling around."
Audria stays close by Alexis and wraps up in the cloak. She'd not eaten much, despite her hunger. She hadn't trusted her stomach to hold whatever she put down there as it twisted itself into knots. She hadn't known she could create fire like that and their trip through the Lyme had done little to calm her nerves.
Still, emotions could only hold their edge for so long before became dull, and the fatigue was getting to her.
"Thanks," she whispers to the other young girl in the group.
Grinning he stretches one more time and the pain isn't so bad he thinks. He lowers his voice and leans in to the others still there, "So what's the plan? I'm still a little hazy on how we got out of that damned prison, but I do seem to remember agreeing to kill a bunch of wererat-halflings. Is that right?"
Outside of the tent, Rigo can see just how crowded this pier has become with the paraphernalia of the circus - tents, although none of them quite as large as the 'Great Tent', run along the entire jetty which, rocking very slightly on the swill of the Lyme, extends a hundred feet or so into the river. The warming sun, bright enough but with a perversely mustard hue as wisps from towering stacks towards the east of the city smear themselves across the horizon, reveals the strange contrast between the circus gaiety and the significant use of barbed wires and metal to prevent unauthorised access here.
So crowded is the jetty, although is anyone working here they are keeping themselves to themselves, that the circus seems to have spilled out into the river itself... to either side of the pier, there is a moored longboat whilst, farther out into the river and connected to the pier by the most precarious of rope bridges (nothing more than two sagging lengths of rope slung one above the other such that one is for standing on and the other is for holding on to) there is a small wooden building perched atop a small isle.
One of the boats alongside is rather elaborately decorated, painted black and emblazoned with crimson- outlined black lettering that declares, “The Circus Macabre is in town! The greatest show in the world!” whilst the other boat is a far simpler affair - sitting low in the water and in poor condition, it is little more than a hull with a deck... atop it are at least a dozen cages, all occupied by what must surely be the circus' performing animals.
Curious about the animals, Rigo moves toward the boat with the cages. As he does so, he continues to flare his nostrils, taking in the scents of the animals, the people, the city. So different from the forest, but scents are scents, and they tell tales, and he knows he needs to learn them. Fortunately, the weeks in the jail has allowed him to at least filter out the Lyme itself.
He looks around, to be sure he's not being overheard. "And how are we supposed to do that? They look the same to me, and we can't just go killing every halfling around."
“Hey, my great great grandpa was a halfling! We’re here to jailbreak one of Eleanor’s friends, and I for one want to keep casualties as low as possible. I am still mad at Eleanor for fake-hanging us. I want to do some research on her weird civic protection organization and see what’s up with that. Also I want to look up this Lord Paladin Thornrage jerk that proscribed us in the first place. Also… we need to talk to the cat. And I need a rest. And I’m running a little low on funds. There’s a lot to do!”
"True. Good that they haven't charged us for admission and the food. Yet. Who knows what we'll end up owing for this 'favor'."
If we stay to watch the show, perhaps we'll have a nap after. I wonder what a bed will cost us..." Salom yawns heartily, stretching and groaning. Behind him, Thea copies him, reaching her fingertips up toward the circus roof and miming a yawn of her own, her canines just visible as her jaw plate opens. "There are so many questions, Moira. The cat. Eleanor and Uriah. Thornrage. Your hats--why are they so broad? And let's not forget our little firebug over here." He looks at Audria. "Well, my dear, do you feel like talking?"
Thea suddenly hobbles over toward Audria, her hands cupped close before her. She reaches for the girl and opens them, a pale white moth perched on her fingers. Salom smiles. "She wants you to take it. A gift for you."
He nods to Moira, "Ahhh yes, it's coming back to me now. Sure, happy to keep the killing to a minimum. No need to leave anger in our wake if we can avoid it. So, swan tattoo right? On his neck. I remember our man has a swan tattoo to identify him."
He smiles, happy that he knows what they're supposed to do, even if it's not yet obvious how they'll do it. For now, resting and chatting was plenty.
Grinning over at Audria, "You are welcome."
Twisting to stare at Moira, "You are part Halfling?"
Shaking her head and taking a slow drink, "I am all for learning more about the Lord Paladin."
Audria nearly jumps out fo her skin as Salom speaks to her. She takes a moment to regain her composure as she takes the moth in both hands and mutters a thank you to the "child."
"A-about what," she asks once she's found her voice again.
Twisting to stare at Moira, "You are part Halfling?"
“Well, I never met the guy, but my mom was kinda short and loved eating and whenever she felt embarrassed by that she’d say, ‘great grampy was a halfling, give me thirds!’ and we’d all laugh. But if that’s true, where was he? Those folk live a long time. Eh, might have just been her joke.” Moira smiles sadly.
"There are so many questions, Moira. The cat. Eleanor and Uriah. Thornrage. Your hats--why are they so broad? And let's not forget our little firebug over here."
“They keep the rain off and look great. Why are YOUR hats so broad?”
Above the festering stink of the Lyme, Rigo smells several beasts - dog, monkey, bear, horse... and something else, something that Rigo can't quite place before he realises he is being watched - the man who had been in the tent with Gride when the escapees arrived at the pier is sat at the far end of the boat. Scowling as he realises he has been seen, the scar faced man spits on the deck of the boat and resumes sweeping stray wisps of hay over the side of the vessel...
Aishe stretches out his joints, feeling better than he has in days, if still a little tired. Yet nothing was to be gained by laying about!
He stands up and looks about. "We should probably stick together more or less if we can. Shall we look for Rigo and start our search for Uriah Agaric? Maybe we'll get lucky and find him today."
If the group agrees, he gathers his gear, checks his crossbow, and heads out of the tent looking for Rigo.
"And what, in the past few months, has suggested we'd be that lucky," Audria asks, happy to change the subject, even if she felt there was little hope of them living through their task.
As Audira and Aishe slip out of the tent, Moira lingers for just a moment, scraping the last crumbs of her meal up with a crust. There's a lot she wants to talk about... "Aishe's right, we ought to check on the cat that followed us home from prison. I kind of like him. Can we keep him? If we can't help him find his proper home, that is."
Tensing when Audria jumps but keeping out of the conversation. Groaning when the food is to be abandoned but getting up with the others. Staring at Moira with a confused look, "Really?"
"Really?"
"I was just kidding, but seriously: I would rather have him on my side than sneaking up behind me. You saw what he did to the Sharkleys."
Outside of the Great Tent and beneath the yellow, but barely warm, morning sunlight, the villagers find Rigo transfixed and watching the boat drawn alongside the pier. There upon the boat are a range of cages, all closed and with large animals asleep within, and - at the far end of the vessel - the scar-faced man is busily ignoring Rigo.
Along the pier, and before the fences that separate the 'Circus Macabre' from the streets of Festival, there are a further four tents - none quite as grand as the one where the group had been invited to recuperate yet each with their own signage to hint and titillate as to what lies within each of them...
Aishe respectfully closes with Rigo, and says very quietly so only he can hear, "We're going to start looking for our man with the swan tattoo. We thought we'd stick together in case there was trouble. Care to join us?"
He eyes the scar-faced man and smiles.
He points to the other four tents, "We could start there, and see something of the circus to boot."
"Yes, please, let's get out of this place as quickly as we can," Audria says as she stays close to Alexis.
The scar-faced man, clearly eyeing the group as he goes about his duties, doesn't acknowledge Aishe's smile - indeed, he pointedly scowls at the attempts to be friendly...
The first tent along from the 'Great Tent' is a little over half the diameter of its larger compatriot and is nowhere near as tall.... and whilst the largest of the tents had an air of faded grandeur, its nearest neighbour has no such pretensions. Indeed, even above the stink of the Lyme, it exudes an earthy smell, perhaps of fungi and mildew, perhaps merely of decay. Signs erected around the marquee, illustrated to both entice and horrify, invite visitors to marvel at the Circus Macabre's very own 'Slug Man'!!!
"Hold on, dear" Salom places a large hand on Thea's shoulder as she moves to peer into the the Slug Man tent. She grasps it in her own and gives a little tug, pointing into the darkness of the tent. "I know you're excited, but we must be prudent. Lest we end up slug food." His eyes move about and his lips mumble silently, wound again in an internal dialogue. Thea remains perfectly still, and after a moment turns toward the tent and tiptoes into its interior.
Rigo looks around, and then nods. His nostrils flair as he takes another deep breath.
Silently, he follows along with the others. Not being friendly, but not being hostile either. He's a bit lost as to what to do right now, killing the shop keeper seems a waste of time, the man is obviously insane. And none of the others seem to be actual people from the village at the time of the crimes. His claws slide in and out of his paws in frustration as he walks along.
Audria follows along, staying close to Alexis and as far from Rigo as she can manage.
Moira follows Rigo, biting her lip thoughtfully. If only I can get him talking…
Despite her flippant tone back in the tent, she’s worried about the cat for his own sake. Her profession has led her to see many bereaved people, and she’s been able to comfort many people since she first began her work. But her failures haunt her—those who suffered loss and went on to commit crimes of vengeance against others… or themselves. Her own youth included an incident lit by torchlight. A friend, the wise woman of the village, was (in a sense) the first healthy victim of the plague.
When confronted with his own hanging, Rigo had ignored his own peril and seemed more excited to see everyone else dying than he was worried about his own impending doom:
The feline spits as Audria speaks. "The villages crimes caught up with it. That is what happened, murderous b@*$%." The feline spits, somehow managing to get spittle to form despite being thirsty and unfed. "Without knowing who is guilty and who is innocent, the city has undoubtably decided the world is better off without the village of Wicken. No doubt it is correct. At least Donar died before this happened."
Moira considers this in the light of Rigo’s execution of the Sharkley brothers. Was that justice? Or was it anger?
She pulls up alongside Rigo, noting his frightening fidgets and general anxiety. She decides to remind him that she’s on his side.
“Rigo… I promised to help you back when we were getting hanged. I know I said that in the heat of the moment, but I meant it. If you need anything, let me know.”
- Within the tent, the smell of damp earth becomes musty and strong - and the space bounded by the canvas is almost supernaturally dark... a shuffling noise, a muted cough and the glimpse of movement in the gloom. Glass separates the main walkway of the tent from an area barely illuminated by floor lanterns - the whites of a man's eyes blink open behind the glass as they watch Salom's 'daughter'... impossibly dark-skinned and wearing entirely black, the man - possibly a gnome or a halfling - seems to be laid prone upon the floor...
Rigo looks down at the human female, and huffs. "Humans say many things in the heat of the moment. Rarely are they of any true worth." Whether he means the words, or the humans, there's a good question. "What I need is, I believe, beyond the ability of any mortal to provide now."
- Muffled by the glass, the man on the floor whispers towards Thea, "Come closer child... come closer and let ole Grove take a look at you. You like magic don't you?" - in the darkness, there is a grin of white teeth.
Outside of the tent, the scarred man aboard the menagerie boat is now rather pointedly watching the group as they mill around outside the Slug man's tent...
"Come back," Salom whispers, anxious. Thea glances back at the tent entrance uncertainly, her elbow mechanism whirring as she raises a fingertip to the lip of her face plate. Then she ignores him, turning back to the glass and stepping a little closer. She raises a hand in silent greeting, waving it in her disjointed, jerky way.
Hello.
- 'Grove', shuffling forwards on a dark rug, grins at the mechanical girl standing in his tent, "My... you're a strange one... although far from the strangest I have seen since the Circus took root here"
"Now watch"
Jerking his head backwards, a small egg rolls out from beneath his fez... using teeth to lift a pewter cup before him, the 'slug man' nudges the egg beneath the cup and then, in a trick seen in a thousand conjuring shows up and down the land - yet none with the strange agility of this limbless man, he moves three identical cups around on the wooden board in front of him... when he is done, he looks at Thea again...
"Were you watching young one? Which one has the egg?"
Keeping close to Audria since the girl still seems a little twitchy. Keeping half her attention on Salom and his odd doll while mumbling to Audria, "You ok after all of that?"
"Salom, what do you see?" Aishe waits patiently, wondering what is going on inside. He hopes nothing is wrong.
Salom describes what he's seeing inside the tent, deciding to wait a moment to see how the "slug man" interacts with Thea.
Inside the tent, Thea's mechanized eyes try to keep up with the cup game, but neither she nor Salom can match the man. After a moment, she points at the center cup.
'Grove' smiles, and pushing the central cup over, reveals that it was empty... he looks at Thea, and glances to the one on the left, "Maybe that one?"
...yet when he nudges at one over with his chin, it too is empty.
"Ahhhh, I too must have lost track... so, it must be in this last one?"
But, of course, when the third and final cup is tipped... there is nothing there. The 'Slug Man' regards Thea for a few moments with a quzzical look before starting to cough, somewhat theatrically, and then... opening his mouth, the egg is there on his outstretched tongue...
...and, as much as he can in his prone position, he bows at Thea.
Audria shakes her head at Alexis' question.
"I– I don't know what's going on. I feel like something is burning inside, begging to get out. It's hungry and angry. I'm scared, Alexis. I'm terrified of what I might do if I lose control of it."
Rigo looks down at the human female, and huffs. "Humans say many things in the heat of the moment. Rarely are they of any true worth." Whether he means the words, or the humans, there's a good question. "What I need is, I believe, beyond the ability of any mortal to provide now."
Moira takes up the thread of the conversation, despite sensing that Rigo would probably rather be left alone. "Actually, I agree that humans say worthless stuff all the time. Any yet, I find myself wanting to talk with you--which makes sense, now that I think about it: you're different. So forgive me. I want to know more about you. I learned, roughly, what happened to your family back in Wicken. But that was some time ago, I gather--I wonder what you did in the interim? As for divine intervention... I have yet to see an instance of it, myself. It seems that, other than the minor clerical tricks, one must be quite wealthy before the gods take any interest."
Tent forgotten Alexis turns, giving Audria her full attention, "You have complete control over yourself Audria. You are not a child but a woman and therefore made of something unbreakable. Once we are no longer in the open we can work on figuring it out. What it takes for it to leave you be." Was she really the one that made all that fire?
Linking an arm with Audria, "Though the last few days have been really stressful and that might be part of it. Sleep should help."
When the egg is revealed Thea claps her hands, a metallic chink that dampens against the cloth walls of the tent, and flaps her wings, flying a foot or so into the air. Her mouth hinge opens and closes in excitement, though no words issue forth, only the slight squeal of a gear in need of oil.
With more than a little relief, Salom slowly enters the tent of the Slug Man. He steps beside Thea and addresses the creature. "So I see you've met my daughter. She's also a bit unique, in her way. But she enjoys your company. Will you tell me, do you stay in this place of your own accord? Or are you here against your will? I fear I've no coin to offer you for your performance, but is there something else we can do for you?"
Grove, who now that Salom can see him more clearly - and from a higher angle than his shorter 'daughter', is most certainly a gnome of sorts... his angular face, darkly violet hair and short torso confirms it - but, with a strange elongated lump in place of legs, it is obvious why he has been 'christened' the Slug-Man.
"Ahhhh... more visitors, what fun..."
Salom, along with any others who enter the tent, takes in the strong scent of the incense burning near the floor-level lanterns - it is a heady, almost oppressive smell and, in conjunction with the darkness, serves to imbue the tent with a slightly claustrophobic feel. At Salom's suggestion of paying for the show, Grove smiles widely, "Oh, no coin is needed good sir... once you have paid for entrance to the Circus Macabre than all of the attractions, all of our mysteries and confoundments, they are free..."
At the question as to whether he is 'free', Grove smiles wistfully, "I owe Long Lucy everything that my life is... and I'll stay with her in the Circus until she breaths her very last".
"Now tell me, I'm sure I haven't heard the third bell of the afternoon yet? It seems early for visitors to our humble show?"
Rigo follows along with the others, mainly out of a sense of not knowing what else to do. In response to the Mourners words, he shrugs. "Gods are busy. Money doesn't really matter to the gods, other than the thief gods, but the priests are all money hungry. Priest's attention is not gods attention. Gods don't get all that involved in the world. Same reason people don't get involved in building ant hills."
Aishe is impressed by Salom’s description, and upon entering the tent, even more surprised. ”This incense sure is thick isn’t it?” he mumbles as he pokes around a little unobtrusively.
"Now tell me, I'm sure I haven't heard the third bell of the afternoon yet? It seems early for visitors to our humble show?"
”We are guests of Ammos, but are quite looking forward to the circus proper later today. We’re just shuffling along killing time until then really. I hope we’re not taking your time from something important.” he says amiably.