Aada slumps a little in her, sipping what lttle remains of her drink.
Galen stands at the very corner of the bar in his performer’s garb as “Zephyrus” while the various voices and conversations at the filled tables permeate the air. Though his mind is fully focused on listening to them, his hands absently lay worn cards out in their various colors and patterns, taking them up and reshuffling them to start the process once more. Some voices are starting to stand out in his mind: a friendly thick-accented Varisian man that reminds him of the nomadic caravan of his youth for some reason, a saddened woman with an allure to her voice that reminds him of the opera, two other men with a distinct air to their words that suggest either nobility or education…or both in equal measure. Other voices fill the air besides the general cacophony of chatter, both male and female, making the Tooth and Nail perhaps one of the more interesting places to be right now.
The woman and her lilting voice…I’ve heard it before in one of the parks…or maybe the Opera House? No, the Aria I think…she sounds sad at what has happened. Galen reshuffles the cards a third time, faster now with his hands at the repetition, the colors and patterns of the cards being sorted almost unconsciously now. The Varisian man seems friendly…too friendly perhaps…no he just knows how to charm and work the table without seeming like it…reminds me of that time in Riddleport when Nan said the three clans’ elders were having a meet to discuss clan business and I couldn’t leave the wagons…I saw a Harrowing for the first time there… The cards reshuffle a fourth time while Galen focuses on the men with high-sounding voices at the same table where the Varisian man is at by the sound of it, picking up a hard-voiced woman now as well, and he strains his full attention to hear more. Noble…scholar…firebrand…noble…trickster…deceiver…liar? Galen starts to hear something else now, whispering and faster like the drone of bees in a meadow hive. More voices, more talk-that-is-not-talk which floats above…or behind…the conversations he hears with his ears; this talk is rapid and is not heard by each other, seeming to echo the conversations themselves, yet with much more speed and honesty than the other ever could be. True. Pure. If he can just pick out one thread from the droning weave and bring that talk into focus…if he can just slow it down somehow so that he can understand, if he can just…
~SLAM!~
Galen bolts upright and nearly takes a hop in the air at the bar, his open eyes focusing on the stern, short woman who stands in front of him on the other side of the bar counter. Mistress Sabinus scowls at him even as she points at the empty wooden mug she slammed before him on his cards, shattering his strange reverie.
”No hangers-on today, Galen. Buy something or be on your way…and no I’ve no time for brewing you two-pinch tea today either.”
Galen smiles at her sheepishly, noting she always uses his true name and not his alias. ”Sure sure…uhh…” His mind races as the strange droning he heard is gone now, replaced with just the other chaotic chorus of voices all mixed together in the common room. ”Ummm…you have any of the cider left from the solstice?”
Setrona Sabinus shakes her head no. ”Applejack I do have.”
Galen wrinkles his nose in a frown. Applejack is too expensive and too harsh for his tastes. ”Mead then please – with the spices you do?”
”Course. And to eat?”
”Ummm…game stew? Vegetables?”
Setrona looks back at him with an irritated, incredulous look. ”Fish soup. Some.” She holds up a finger and a full hand. ”Fifteen pinch. I’ve got no reason to haggle.”
Galen sighs and nods glumly. In Old Kintargo he knows who sells streetmeat and bread that won’t make him sick, but by now with the rain their carts will all be packed up. ”Alright, Mistress Sabinus.” He knows he has sixteen copper from today in his money pouch, but needs two pinch tomorrow to cross the Bleakbridge with the new tax – that can’t be for each crossing in the same day, can it? – so that he can take on the new scribing translation job from Alabaster. I guess I’ll have to use the shield…want to buy Dany that licorice she likes, but I’ll have more to spend after next week’s end when I finish the translation. Galen deftly retrieves the lone silver shield from his scarf while adjusting it on his shoulders, palming it and placing it down with five copper pinch he retrieves from his belt pouch. ”I’ll be over sitting on the corner stage, mum.” With Setrona taking up the coins and walking over to pour ale for another customer at the bar, Galen picks up his cards and dumps them into the worn satchel at his side, stepping away to make his way across the room to the far corner near the privy where the “corner stage” resides – a two-foot by three-foot wooden box hammered into the corner of the wall with crude nails.
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As Sunset leads Isabel away from the crowd in the main common room a rare opportunity for private conversation is available.
"By Shelyn's grace it's good to see you again Sunset! I thought you had been posted to the back-end of beyond. Why are you back in the city? Is it something to do with the school? Lady Docur hasn't been responding to my messages in the usual places. I'm worried about the Thrune crack-down. They might have tried to shut her down if they knew... besides, taking in half-breeds like us was never popular."
As she pauses for breathe she wraps Sunset in a hug. "I really have missed you Sunset, it's good to see a friend around here again. Do come by my house when you have a chance - I think I can do better than your schnapps! But first, what news?"
Phineas sips his drink, observing the faces of his companions as talk of the silver ravens starts, then fades.
Plenty of people here would be sympathetic to their cause, but no real reaction from the name other than Julius trying to cover for that outburst. If there is a member of the Silver Ravens here, it seems most likely to be him so far.
He looks over Darian as Darian first speaks to Leondaro, then turns to speak with Aleanya.
I recognize him from somewhere, but where...well dressed, on a first name basis with Leonardo Vashnarstill...
Darian hears the young, disheveled woman's desire to work for a nobleman, as well as the rebellious talk of others at the table. Hoping to not draw attention to himself as such rambunctious discussions were being had, he lightly places a hand on the shoulder of Aleanya before stating with a grin, "I might know someone from the Greens in need of an experienced individual. Do you happen to have a resume on hand?"
Noting her distressed look, Darian makes an attempt to lighten her mood. He bows his head towards her, offering her his hand, a white rose manifesting within it as he extends it towards her. "Darian Aulamaxa, at your service," he says before the rose dissipates into a flutter of floating lights that vanish one by one as they float towards the ceiling.
Phineas suppresses the urge to inhale sharply and sips his drink instead.
Of course! The Aulamaxa heir! What on earth is he doing here; I suppose he must have come after finding the Opera closed? That woman couldn't have found a better patron, if she was working at the Opera.
Phineas leaps up from the table, finishing his drink in final gulp before gesturing excitedly at Darian.
"Darian Aulamaxa, as I live and breathe! I never expected to find you here. I am certain you don't remember me, but I saw you briefly in passing once long ago. My name is Davis, a merchant of little reknown. I am honored, good sir, to meet you in person. I have long been an admirer of your family's sponsorship of the arts."
Phineas shakes his head sorrowfully.
"Bad business that, closing the Opera. What is the world coming to when the government closes the greatest expression of Chelish culture this side of Egorian? I was greatly looking forward to the upcoming performance of the Huntress of Heroes. Your family helped sponsor the performance, did it not? Do you know if there is any chance the decree might be lifted, or performances moved to an alternate venue?"
Darian turns to the man fawning over him, and offers him a polite smile and handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Davis. Yes, it is unfortunate that our new Lord-Mayor has chosen such a famed establishment as his personal abode. My mother did in fact sponsor a portion of the Huntress' production, and we were quite looking forward to its release. I do hope it eventually is unveiled, though I don't expect another venue would do it justice. Especially with the disappearance of its star, Lady Shensen."
As Sunset leads Isabel away from the crowd in the main common room a rare opportunity for private conversation is available.
"By Shelyn's grace it's good to see you again Sunset! I thought you had been posted to the back-end of beyond. Why are you back in the city? Is it something to do with the school? Lady Docur hasn't been responding to my messages in the usual places. I'm worried about the Thrune crack-down. They might have tried to shut her down if they knew... besides, taking in half-breeds like us was never popular."
As she pauses for breathe she wraps Sunset in a hug. "I really have missed you Sunset, it's good to see a friend around here again. Do come by my house when you have a chance - I think I can do better than your schnapps! But first, what news?"
" I... I ... " Sunset gulps around her sobs, " There was a death... " Tears trickle down Sunset's cheeks, "I had to get away. I tried to come back. Back to the school. Tried to report what had happened." She wipes at her tears with a sleeve.
"The school doors are closed. None of the drop points seem to be being picked up. None of the codes seem to be accepted." For a moment Sunset looks truly grief stricken then she dabs at her eyes a bit more and a wan smile forms.
"So... I fell back into character. Went back into the disguise. Kept working with the cover ." The spark of defiance and rekindles, her chin lifts.
"So.. I can be Sunset for as long as it takes to pull through!" she smiles to her friend.
"I am a scholar of some renown."
"Renown, you say." Avrora responds with a half-smile.
She moves to brush her hair behind her ear, forgetting that it is no longer there. She realizes that her hands are trembling. She them in her lap to conceal them, probing for the reassuring presence of her weapons.
"A pleasure, to be sure. You will have to excuse me, I have been absent from the city for some time. I only returned last night, actually. Much has changed."
She looks around the packed tavern. She can feel the tension of the city-dwellers around her; the urgency of their whispers, their sideways glances, their nervous laughter at her outburst. Everywhere, there is fear.
"And much has remained the same."
As Varian turns, she cannot help but notice the odd marking on his neck.
Funny, she thinks, I couldn't draw a better rose.
An odd notion begins to creep. It starts at the base of her spine, a sort of tingle.
"You see, milady? Many of us like joking, there’s nothing wrong with it.”
It slowly crawls up her back, it's prickly legs tickling her skin, along her neck, through her jaw, and then into her brain.
"What could be more amusing than to play rebels?"
It rests there, coiled at the base of her skull. It whispers.
"Indeed. You strike me as having an especially good sense of humor, Mr. Vindex. A standing ovation is in order. Or, at least, a bouquet of roses."
Galen politely pushes his way through the middle of the Tooth and Nail common room towards the far back corner and the “stage” where he can at least sit and have a meal in relative peace when it arrives, not under the disapproving stare of Mistress Sabinus. Next to the stage corner he spies out a small table where a lone man bearing thick unruly black hair but better clothes sits, the man rubbing his temples as if suffering from a pronounced headache. Galen thinks the man may be a local of Old Kintargo, from the days when Nan was still alive. Do I know him? Did he visit Nan's herb shoppe when I was there? Perhaps...yet best not to disturb him if I get over there...the stage-box over a table and chair it is then...
As he moves along he can easily identify the larger table where the Varisian man and much of the animated talk is carrying on. Though he’d like to strike up a conversation with the colorful and gregarious man and see how much he knows of Varisia, his clan name and any news he might know from there, Galen avoids veering in that direction because of all the others and their seditious talk: the scholar, the noble, the firebrand woman, the other noble, and others nearby – all talking…or joking…about fanning the fires of sedition and unrest. Foolish…not that I haven’t heard it before from Dany, Gleesas, Janan and countless other friends of mine in Alabaster or in any number of places I have frequented…but being so open about such things? The Dottari don’t come around here much in numbers, but no reason to get things all worked up and have them prowl the streets in infernal packs…I hope Setrona thinks it’s worth the extra coin this day to risk being shut and boarded up by the magistrate’s office… Galen tacks right to be sure to avoid getting caught up in that lot, should something come to trouble over it.
After a brief greeting to two solid local carpenters that he knows from the tenements a street just off his own, Galen passes closely by the table with the raven-haired woman and the alluring voice; to his surprise there is also an elvish woman seated at the same table, with two empty chairs and two men standing between that table and the larger raucous one he was trying to avoid. The two gentlemen are in their own avid conversation easily overheard - merchant whose name is Davis and…nobleman…a scion of House Aulamaxa? He favors Shenshen, how wonderful! – and so Galen returns his fleeting thoughts back to the beautiful but sad woman that he thinks he has seen in performance at Aria.
”Mistress, my pardon,” says “Zephyrus” hesitantly as he speaks to the raven-haired woman who seems to have come from an Opera performance in the rain, ”but I thought I have seen you sing before in the Aria last year before the winter solstice. A black masquerade mask by trade? Forgive me if I am mistaken, but if not I found your act astoundingly beautiful, worthy of the ‘House even. I am Zephyrus the Storyteller…ahh…also of the Aria at times, but not nearly of your quality, um of course.”
Smiling tentatively to see if he’s correct or made an awkward mistake of recognition, Galen glances over and suddenly realizes he should not offend the elvish woman at the same table. He gestures delicately with his right hand as he hesitantly speaks a small greeting in her tongue, ”Cior hyl as cinderibo fandnon gau o, sigio oth fo forad oth riav as fist.”
Looking back to the raven-haired performer he says, ”Apologies if I am mistaken, mistress.” With that he smiles and nods at both women and turns to deftly move around the two standing men – merchant and noble – looking to do so without bumping or jostling them in the packed house.
Darian turns to the man fawning over him, and offers him a polite smile and handshake. "A pleasure to meet you, Davis. Yes, it is unfortunate that our new Lord-Mayor has chosen such a famed establishment as his personal abode. My mother did in fact sponsor a portion of the Huntress' production, and we were quite looking forward to its release. I do hope it eventually is unveiled, though I don't expect another venue would do it justice. Especially with the disappearance of its star, Lady Shensen."
Phineas grasps Darian's hand and gives it as firm a hand shake as he can muster.
Remember Phineas, Davis is supposed to have a firm grip. The small details make all the difference.
"Was she lost in the flames as well then? I had heard the Silver Star had burned and feared the worst, but had hoped that she had made it out safely."
Phineas keeps his ears open while talking to Darian, and catches snippets of Galen's conversation nearby.
Intriguing; he speaks elvish well. Not a lot of visible anger or gloom, unlike most of the room.
"If the gods are merciful, she yet lives. Her performances have always been entertaining and inspiring to thousands," Darian replies.
Hopping into the conversation between Darian and Phineas
Never was a big fan of Opera. Probably because I wasn't even allowed to enter the building.Now that I think about it, the only official buildings where people like me were tolerated would have been the prison cells or the place where we pay taxes.
He tries to drink more, but his glass is empty
But let's be honest, a cell is better than a grave. Or a burning house.
Darian hears the young, disheveled woman's desire to work for a nobleman, as well as the rebellious talk of others at the table. Hoping to not draw attention to himself as such rambunctious discussions were being had, he lightly places a hand on the shoulder of Aleanya before stating with a grin, "I might know someone from the Greens in need of an experienced individual. Do you happen to have a resume on hand?"
Noting her distressed look, Darian makes an attempt to lighten her mood. He bows his head towards her, offering her his hand, a white rose manifesting within it as he extends it towards her. "Darian Aulamaxa, at your service," he says before the rose dissipates into a flutter of floating lights that vanish one by one as they float towards the ceiling.
"Aleanaya Deterion, a pleasure," answers Aleanya, smiling at the nobleman. "I'm afraid I don't. I had just started working at the opera when they shut it down. I have a few--contacts, though, who would be able to vouch for me."
”Mistress, my pardon,” says “Zephyrus” hesitantly as he speaks to the raven-haired woman who seems to have come from an Opera performance in the rain, ”but I thought I have seen you sing before in the Aria last year before the winter solstice. A black masquerade mask by trade? Forgive me if I am mistaken, but if not I found your act astoundingly beautiful, worthy of the ‘House even. I am Zephyrus the Storyteller…ahh…also of the Aria at times, but not nearly of your quality, um of course.”
"I didn't think my voice was so recognizable," says Aleanya, a hint of a smile appearing on her face. "That was indeed me. My name is Aleanya Deterion--I was employed at the opera house, but now that it's serving as Thrune's residence I find myself out of a job. You said you also performed at Aria Park? Are you a singer as well?"
Varian smiles at Avrora when she remarks to have noticed his birthmark through irony: "What a coincidence...I was just thinking that a bouquet of roses would be the very minimum tribute to your beauty milady...". His following expression is a mix between a smile and a grin. "But you see, fact is we don't appreciate roses anymore...Maybe part of our current problems arise from the fact that people do not love roses anymore, or at least how they should. We have somehow lost our taste for beauty. And now the roses need to grow their thorns if they want to survive the iron grasp of people who can no longer appreciate their beauty...survive to see a day in which people will appreciate roses again. One thing is sure, though. A single rose makes a bad impression. A whole bouquet of roses, however, makes for a memorable gift. But with roses being so rare of late, it's so difficult to find enough of them to make a bouquet. Unless one starts gathering them one by one as he finds them...". Varian blinks imperceptibly.
"For the Nine Hells, all this talking about roses has made me thirsty. Waitress, another round please. Water, again. Roses need water to grow", he concludes with a smirk addressed to Avrova.
It was now clear that due Aada's weaker constitution that she eventually fell asleep on the table, unable to handle her one and only drink. She had eaten all the rolls served to her and was justly stuffed. Her headache was still present but less so from the alcohol she had ingested.
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Hopping into the conversation between Darian and Phineas
Never was a big fan of Opera. Probably because I wasn't even allowed to enter the building.Now that I think about it, the only official buildings where people like me were tolerated would have been the prison cells or the place where we pay taxes.
He tries to drink more, but his glass is empty
But let's be honest, a cell is better than a grave. Or a burning house.
Phineas winces internally as he listens to Eusebios. He had never given much thought to the way Tieflings were treated when he lived in Egorian, but since arriving in Kintargo, their treatment has hit much closer to home.
I have written contracts with a breeding clause before. In another time, I could have helped create his ancestors...you would think that given how the devil blooded are viewed in Cheliax, people would care more about what they inflict on their children. But no, it is always about the infernal power such a union brings, and never about the cost to one's descendants.
"Aye, a shame that is. I have long felt that the Opera is a national treasure that should be shared by all. Perhaps if we fostered a wider shared experience with the arts, there would be more need for singers and less need for prisons."
The woman from that outburst and Julius...all that talk of roses. Could it be code for the holy symbol of Milani? She doesn't seem subtle enough to be a member of the Silver Ravens...judging by that outburst about the Dotari, she probably would have given it away when they were mentioned. Still, she may be worth contacting, just in case I am misreading her. She is obviously no friend to the government. Perhaps she may be trying to make contact with them as well.
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Isabel returns the smile sincerely. "You always were strong my friend. If the school is not responding then they must have gone underground. I guess the only way we're going to hear from them again is if Thrune's control of the city starts to slip.
Her eyes narrow as she thinks. Did you hear the men in the common room. They've been talking rebellion in all but name - do you think any of them might know something? If we could collect allies..."
As she tails off Isabel pulls out a small compact and starts applying small dabs of makeup along Sunset's cheekbones. "There you go, some proper elven colour back in your cheeks." She grins, conspiratorially, "Go back out there and learn what you can. I'll do the same, meet me tonight at my home. I'll leave the back door open for you. My father's gone, we'll be able to talk properly then.
With a last quick hug Isabel arranges her face into an expression of disgust and stalks her way back into the common room, just in time to see Madame Aala slump onto the table as Aleanya is engaged by a nobleman she recognises. Sweeping back in she takes the conversation in her stride, reclaiming the chair next to her former teacher just in case anyone tries anything on the unconscious woman.
"Master Aulamaxa, what a pleasure to see you again. She eyes the fading light show with some disdain. "Does your father not have better things for you to do than to flatter a young lady with cheap tricks? As I recall your waltzing could use some practice... with a more experienced partner." Her wicked smile raises the comment from an insult to a pointed reminder. "She's too young for you Darian, let her be."
"They'll pay...they all will... pay... by Calis... Cal... *hic*," she mumured in her sleep. Dreams of sweet torture and revenge in her slumber.
Darian frowns at Isabel's smug comments at his expense. "And must a man's simple act of kindness always be construed in the most negative way possible? She has clearly had a hard day, I was simply trying to lift her spirits somewhat."
He returns his focus to Aleanaya, "A pleasure. Deterion...why does that name sound familiar..."
"Me? Oh dear no, Mistress Deterion," replies Galen with a slight blush to his cheeks. "At best I can hum along with a dance hall jig or sing a campfire tale, but that is about it. No, I am a storyteller...ahh...Zephyrus the Storyteller, at your service." He does a slight bow and adds, "I'm also known as Galen here when, well, not out and about performing my act. A hard and fruitless day at the Aria and the Veritas, and I saw from afar the closing of the Opera House this morning...but..."
Galen tries to offer his best smile to try and cheer Aleanya up, though the poor state of the elven woman at the table and the return of a rather outspoken third woman to her chair has him trail off his words - he really doesn't know what to make of the barbed exchange between she and the Aulamaxa scion standing nearby, other than they seem to be acquainted with one another in a not-so-friendly way.
He wasn't initially going to intrude of course, but the tiefling already has with the pair of men, and so Galen does his best to try and change the subject.
"Oh, I believe Shensen is far too quick-witted, resourceful and courageous to have been caught in a fire or anything like that," says Galen to Davis and Darian with a hopeful tone in his voice that he seems to believe. "She'll be giving word to those of us who follow her exploits, I know it for truth." For emphasis he reveals in his hands a silver coin with Shensen's likeness upon it briefly, before making it disappear in his hands. "My lucky coin from her, and it still feels right, so she's as right as the sun and the stars."
With a smile back to Aleanya at the table he says to her as an aside, "Your performances in the Aria are well known by me and many of the other middling acts, Mistress Deterion - it's no surprise you made it to the stage of the House. I thought you went by another name out there, but if you have tokens of your performances that you bestow to your admirers, I would surely love to have one."
Having given her friend a return hug Sunset waits a few moments before returning to her duties amongst the patrons. Doing her best to both catch up and then keep up with people's orders/requests.
He returns his focus to Aleanaya, "A pleasure. Deterion...why does that name sound familiar..."
"Oh, it's a common enough name," says Aleanya, looking away from the noble for a moment. "Not nearly as interesting as yours, though--how close are you to House Aulamaxa? I bet the Archbaroness once, when she visited the opera."
With a smile back to Aleanya at the table he says to her as an aside, "Your performances in the Aria are well known by me and many of the other middling acts, Mistress Deterion - it's no surprise you made it to the stage of the House. I thought you went by another name out there, but if you have tokens of your performances that you bestow to your admirers, I would surely love to have one."
"Oh, I'm flattered--I used to give out black peacock feathers in the park, let me see if I still have any" says Aleanya as she reaches into her bag--and sure enough, she produces a black feather, but just as she starts to hand it to Galen she pulls it away. "First though--tell me a story, perhaps?"
Drain smiles playfully, "I've been to their Vira in the Greens a few times."
Not wishing to make her bear the brunt of the joke after the day and night they had all had, he adds, "I only jest, M'lady. If you have met the Archbaroness, then you have in fact met my dearest mother."
In response to Galen, he says hopefully, "I do hope that to be the case, sir. It would be a true tragedy to lose a performer as talented as she."
Varian chimes in the conversation about the opera: "Excuse me, milord, for my meddling. You're the Archbaroness' son? My mother used to be a very good friend of the Archbaroness, a long time ago..." Varian immediately regrets his words. Stupid, stupid! That is the real you! What if he now asks you who's you're mother? Are you going to lie again? Varian smiles nervously, knowing that he's put himself in a bad position with his curiosity.
Trying to divert the attention from himself, he looks around. His eyes makes contact with Galen. "Zephyrus the storyteller you say? I swear I've already heard your name before, somehow. Julius Vindex, nice to meet you". He moves to shake his hand with Galen's. "And tell me, Mister Zephyrus, what's your favourite story about? And...Oh, is that a genuine kapenia? Dark green and deep violet with a wave of sky blue...You must have a deep personality and family history, Mr. Zephyrus", says Varian with a smile. What had begun as a diversion had turned into an interesting conversation indeed. Celissa, his bride-to-be, was half-Varisian, and she was used to tell him some tales about her people history.
"Truly?" Darian asks, arching an eyebrow at the scholar. It wouldn't be the first time someone claimed close friendship to the family in hopes for a handout.
Vindex...Lady Vindex...I do not recall such a person...
"How long ago was this, might I ask? I do not recall ever meeting her," he adds, turning to get a better look at the man.
Darn it! That'll teach you to keep your mouth shut Varian! What to do, what to do..., Varian thinks to himself frantically while hiding behind a nervous smile, I must come up with something, and soon, otherwise...Oh, I got it!, "A very long time ago indeed, Mr. Aulamaxa. So long that I can't even recall it..."
______________________________________
Hey, I know this man...Taldo! It's been a while since the last time we met..., Varian thinks to himself as his eyes makes contact with the newcomer. "Well met sir, Julius Vindex, famed scholar", says Varian as he reaches his hand with a quiet smile.
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Darian nods acceptance at the man's words, but keeps a wary eye his way.
First he claims a well known connection, but when pressed cannot remember...this is a strange one...
Varian smiles nervously at Darian, knowing that he's been putting himself in a delicate situation. Though, he just couldn't hold back from greeting the man with whom he had spent so many time playing when they were child.
______________________________________
As Julius turns to greet the newcomer, Darian notes his blue eyes.
Wow...I haven't seen eyes that blue since...since...by the gods...the birthmark...is it...no...it can't be, he died in Egorian, so we were told!
Darian blocks out all other conversation and begins studying "Julius'" face in earnest.
By the Inheritor's Blade! It is him! He is alive! But...why is he in hiding...using a false name...?
The look of realization is plain on Darian's face for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure in an attempt to maintain whatever ruse Varian is attempting to maintain.
Metsipaño was completely ignorant of the game of identification cat-and-mouse playing out before him between Julius and Darian. He blinked twice, blankly, before turning to greet Zypherus.
"Well met, traveller," he says to the man from across the table. Another Varisian, always a welcome sight. Matty didn't recognise him, but in a city the size of Kintargo, it wasn't unlikely that they'd never met. Still, they no doubt had some contacts in common... Truth be told, he'd heard the telltale shuffling of cards from a mile away, and whether it meant a Harrowing or a game of sticks, it'd drawn Matty's interest. How pleasing that it had been another of the wandering folk who'd put out the call.
"The name's Rey... Metsipaño Rey, but you can call me Matty," he said, leading with his family name despite being an orphan. His speech was in the manner of sailors: rough and swarthy though friendly, but given his slight frame he was unlikely to be engaged in such a physical profession. "Was that you I heard a few minutes ago, shuffling cards? I thought it was... Mind if I ask: are they the gaming kind, or the fortune-telling kind?" He then made a sweeping gesture with his arms to indicate that the table was open and available for either. Varisians were known for their love of cards; it was likely that these two men exemplified the trait.
Aada's eyes opened up from her slumped position, peering around the tavern, "This is what my *hic* life is like now. What a pity. Now my home is going *hic* shambles"
"Ummm...yes well I umm..." says Galen in a sincere but stumbling manner, his left hand out somewhat towards Aleanya to receive her token but hand closed as she added her request. He looks from High Master Aulamaxa to Master Vindex, to the more familiar face of Taldo, over to Matty Rey and finally back to Taldo. Looking somewhat sheepish about his own awkwardness, he glances at Aleanya with a wink and adopts the mantle of "Zephyrus" more in both his speech and an elegant, practiced bow to them all.
"It do be a pleasure to make your acquaintances all - Zephyrus the Storyteller I am, though I do have different names some call me by - at times we all travel through life with varied names and different guises, do we not? Sometimes mostly to our own selves, which can be trouble." Smiling, he graciously nods to Taldo and Matty and Aleanya - Galen tries to be respectful of the sudden intensity and focus of the greeting between Master Aulamaxa and Master Vindex, though deferentially nods to each of them as well so as to not be rude. He mentally decides to speak a few words to each of them directly as to what they asked of him, but for now speaking of stories seems to be the best pattern to weave here.
"Yet you didn't ask me for high philosophy, did you? My opinion on a story you did ask. Hmm...let's see. Stories are like wildflowers in a lush meadow - each beautifully different and interesting in their own way. It is impossible to pick just one, you see!" Galen as Zephyrus the Storyteller taps his chin and muses for a moment. "On this strange day, two stories come to mind. One is the third chapter from the 'Lay of Nirmath', about his human younger brother, Evert, and the dryad that loved him - a sad story of sacrifice, but one of hope and promise for the greater good of the people. The other? Hmmm...ahh yes...the tale of 'Lynn the Bird in the Land of the Crows' comes to mind, though to be fair it is a parable for children, and not something typically told in a tavern such as this."
Eusebios sniggers when he sees the elf slowly getting drunk
Not a good idea. You should keep your head clear, if you want to keep your head.
The tiefling put his own drink on Aada's table.
Avrora meets Julius's eyes with a knowing, penetrating look. She opens her mouth to speak, but the man smirks and turns his attentions elsewhere. Intrigued (and a bit nonplussed), Avrora remains silent.
There is yet time to discern these secrets. I have waited two years already.
His allusions to roses are electrifying, however. Could it be that the Everbloom still lives in Kintargo, even under the iron fist of martial law? The prospect stirs something within her. A seed of hope, dormant for years, begins to grow.
Around her, the barroom chatter grows in intensity, and she realizes a newcomer has approached the table.
Aleanaya Deterion...Zephyrus the Storyteller...
These names are vaguely familiar to her, but they are remnants of a past life. Ancient relics of a history largely forgotten.
The name that does alarm her, however, is Aulamaxa. That name, she is sure, is an associate of her father's. As Julius introduces himself to the man, her heart skips a beat. Darian, however, does not seem to recognize her or her first name.
Perhaps I have changed more than I realized.
Suddenly the charismatic Zephyrus pipes up, offering a story. Grateful for the potential diversion, Avrora calls out.
"Speak to us of sacrifice, oh bard, of glory and atonement. And above all, on this day, share with us a tale of hope!"
Sunset places the last group of mugs onto the table where some of the more notable patron's have come to rest. Upon noting the increase in their number she but nods before returning to the bar to continue finishing tier requests.
A halfling man enters the tavern. His blonde hair is messy, he has massive bags under his eyes and he appears to be rather distraught. He immediately walks over to the bar, turning to the bartender. "Sir, please. Can you help me? I'm looking for a halfling man, looks quite a bit like me but older and with a belly. He has red hair, a long moustache and is greying at the temples. He probably was at least half drunk. I really need to find him before he drinks himself to death."
Without waiting for an answer the man climbed on top of a bar stool and tried surveying the entire tavern from there.
He wore a leather coat and jacket of fine make with shoes to match. Under the coat he appeared to carry both a nicked short sword and some sort of club like thing with leather wrappings.
Phineas' eyes flicker between Darian and Julius, watching their faces closely during the meeting.
He does know him, I'm sure of it. Curious and curiouser. Just who is this Julius? I must make contact soon.
Phineas gets a second drink from Sunset and takes a sip.
"Thank ye kindly, miss."
Phineas raises voice and his joins in on the crowd of people calling for Galen's story.
"Aye, I'm with her! A tale of hope to brighten a dark day."
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Sunset sighs as she sees the halfling climb the furniture... though it turns to relief as the smaller humanoid doesn't break out into song... or yelling.. or worse.
Finishing up placing drinks upon her tray she moves around to the front of the bar and smiles at Tychoi,
"How might I help you, friend?" She asks.
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Isabel reaches swiftly across the table and promptly upends the tankard that the tiefling, acting - she presumes out a sense of mischief, had left there. Damn it. I can't just leave madame Aada here, even if she is waking up someone will do her harm before the evening is out. But all the information... gah! Throwing her mental hands up in the air Isabel turns, keeping half an eye on her former teacher, to engage in the conversation.
As she does so she catches sight of the muscular, well built man who seems to be staring at her. Isabel allows herself a moment and returns the stare with a frankness to match his own. Well built, prosperous, he works for his money I think. Doesn't seem like the sort to be here normally. Smiling, she beckons him over as calls go up around the tavern for a story.
The visibly tired halfling smiles at Sunset when she speaks to him, "Thank you miss. I'm looking for a halfling man. Looks quite a bit like me but older. Red hair, greying at the temples, and a bushy moustache. He would have looked unkempt and I suspect he was at least half drunk. I need to find him before he hurts himself or gets in trouble." His tone was desperate and weary. Clearly the last few days hadn't been kind to him and it looked like it might have been more than 24 hours since he had last seen his bed.
“Zephyrus” puts his hands up in theatrical acquiescence and nods to those both standing and sitting at the nearby tables for a proper story. ”Very well then…ahh…then the story of Evert of Chernasardo in the Lay of Nirmath it shall be. That is, if Mistress Sabinus agrees to it?” Over at the bar, Setrona merely gives him a scowl and waves him on as if barely tolerable – though clearly she doesn’t object to Taldo’s last full round of drinks being ordered because of it.
”Alright then, let me prepare but a moment…” His thoughts are interrupted by Insome Filas, coming over with a wooden bowl of watery fish soup and a wooden mug of mead in his hands that Galen had ordered earlier.
”Here ya go, Zeph!”
Some of the hot soup sloshes from the bowl onto the wooden-planked floor as Insome stops by the ladies’ table, making the watery meal even less appetizing than normal. Still, Galen smiles and takes both the bowl and the mug, depositing a single pinch back to Insome in the exchange. Taking a healthy sip of the spiced mead in one hand, he looks down at the bowl of unappetizing soup in the other then over at the ladies’ table; impulsively he apologizes to no one in particular and quickly dumps the soup out upon the floor by the back wall nearby, tapping at the bowl twice to clear it.
”Galen!” calls out Setrona Sabinus with a much deeper scowl now. ”Are you slopping my soup on my own floor?”
”Sorry mum – I’ll clean it up later I promise.” Zephyrus the Storyteller then turns the wooden bowl upside down and places it gingerly at the center of the table in front of Aleanya, Aada and Isabel, but still where others standing and sitting at the nearby tables can see it. ”That should do…” He takes another sip of mead and then places the mug aside for later, freeing up both hands to tell the story. After a moment of calm and silence on his part , he begins.
”Now the Lay of Nirmath is a long and winding tale with seven chapters, beginning with the origins of young Nirmath in the Chernasardo region of the Fangwood Forest, and ending with his untimely death on the very night of his people’s glorious independence from Molthune. Yet the third chapter speaks of his younger brother, Evert, a warrior and battle-captain of great skill and renown, but also great anger and pride – in the first years of the revolt Evert was estranged from his older brother Nirmath, having the same human mother but different fathers. Evert craved battle and glory and was himself an accomplished mercenary-captain in Lastwall to the north, but cared little for any but himself and his pride. He had recently returned from Lastwall after failing to receive proper titles and recompense, uncertain of where he would seek his next fortunes - certainly he did care not for the fledgling bands of rebels throughout the Fangwood, considering them weak and and petty and beneath his notice…most of all his brother Nirmath’s own company! So entire portions of the Fangwood were hewn and consumed by fire to feed greedy Molthune’s armies and instruments of war, even of fair Chernasardo the place of his birth, while Evert ignored it and cared little for the lives of others. And so it would have possibly ended for Nirmath and that of his countrymen, if not for his brother’s sojourn into the deep Fangwood on his way west to the Bloodsworn Vale and further adventure beyond…”
"Now why'd you do *hic* that for," Aada said with a slur after the drink was taken away, her hands reaching out for it feintly "that strapping *hic* young man left me *hic* drink."
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"Now why'd you do *hic* that for," Aada said with a slur after the drink was taken away, her hands reaching out for it faintly "that strapping *hic* young man left me *hic* drink."
"Yes Madam Aada, but you shouldn't be having any more right now." Patience wars with resignation in Isabel's voice. "You need to just sit down quietly for a minute. Why don't you recite the litany of Aroden's prophecies for a moment to help clear your head?" That litany was the bane of her class... maybe it'll help her fall asleep for once.
Isabel remains next to Aada, murmuring to her softly and observing the crowd as veiled hints and tentative feelers unwind in front of her. The tangle of personal and religious loyalties in this place is immense. It will be a miracle if no-one ends up before the Asmodeans for this...
Thinking quickly Isabel rumages through her small bag before adressing herself to the most scholarly looking of the conversationalists.
"Excuse me kind sir, do you happen to have a pen?"
"Excuse me kind sir, do you happen to have a pen?"
"Aye, I do. I require it for business dealings. Here, let me find it..."
Phineas reaches into one of his coat pockets, and begins rummaging around. As he does so, he accidentally spills some of his drink on Varian's arm.
"Ah! My greatest apologies, Julian. Here, I have a handkerchief, let me dry you."
Phineas will take out a heavily embroidered handkerchief and rub Varian's arm dry, or at least less damp.
"You should keep the handkerchief, and my apologies again for your arm."
The handkerchief has a large D embroidered into it. Around the four edges, there are nonsense letters decoratively arranged.
J xbou kpjo tjmwfs sbwfot
nffu dpsofs pg xjoejoh xbz
boe nbjo tu gjwf qn upojhiu
xjqf cspx up tjhobm
This is a ROT-1 cipher, where is character is replaced by the next character in the alphabet. It should be about as easy as a cipher can be to break. Phineas figures if the silver ravens are worth joining, they'll have someone who can crack this; anyone with linguistics probably can with a little time. He just doesn't want to be carrying notes that clearly incriminate him at a casual glance.
I want join silver ravens
meet corner of winding way
and main st five pm tonight
wipe brow to signal
I hope I am right about him...I only have three of these. That embroidery took forever.
Phineas lingers for a second with his hand on Varian's arm and gives an almost imperceptible nod at the handkerchief before turning back to Isabel, drawing his pen out of his pocket and handing it to her.
"Here is your pen, miss. I apologize for the wait."
