"No fun but *hic* alright, Aada slowly starting to recite them unfocused. Her eyes seemed to wander a bit as her right hand flared with a familiar pain.
Her eyes shifted down to the handkerchief, "Sil...Silv... something."
As “Zephyrus the Storyteller” spins his story to those in the common room listening nearby, they begin to see the overturned wooden bowl upon the table slowly change: green buds seem to slowly form and grow across the bowl, taking on appearance like verdant moss on the side of a tree. Slowly and steadily, the bowl loses distinction and looks more like a hillock or mound of crude grass – though not as fine as the illusionary images of an accomplished wizard by any means, the intention of the scene is clear to the onlookers. A budding tree starts to form at the top of the “mound” as the table around the bowl starts to shade green and “grow” more crude grass around it.
Meanwhile, Zephyrus continues to weave his tale without stopping his cadence, now walking around the table to address the onlookers assembled around him, using the table as a focal point:
”…Evert was master of blade and shield, strong as an aurorch and unable to be brought down by any single male foe, be it a berserker of Belkzen or a legionnaire of Molthune. Yet this knowledge in his mastery of the arts of war proved to be his undoing. For as he strode deeper into the forest, kicking over toadstools with steel-tipped boots and snapping off limbs of saplings without care, he came across the sacred groves of Firalan and the ancient paueliel tree at its center, home of the dryad Ayanna. There Evert did stop and behold the tree, knowing its value and determined to take its heartwood for a greatbow that only he could string. The foolish hubris of so-called powerful men is known throughout many tales, and Evert was no exception. It proved to be his downfall, for no skill in sword or thickness of his Vigil-forged armor could shield him from Ayanna’s voice to bid him to halt. And halt he did! Ahh yes! Her lithe form clad in greens and hair of shimmering gold blinded him with her beauty, her sultry suggestion to drop his heavy blade he did heed. She began her song to enthrall him completely in wondrous thoughts of rapture, and he was hers then - a mighty fool of a slave to add to her choice collection of other foolish men who had become her slaves before him. Such would be the end of the tale of Evert, brother of Irgal Nirmath, had not a strange and unexpected thing happened in the seasons that followed…”
Upon the table the mound and the tree are now fully formed, with small branches and tiny crude leaves of green and silver colors showing. The mound and the table of green mossy grass even have tiny patches of reds, purples and yellows peeking up, giving the impressions of wildflowers. Zephyrus the Storyteller continues to carefully walk around the table in a slow circle as he speaks, occasionally gesturing to the tree and relating to them the story of Evert and Ayanna. How Evert initially suffered thralldom for a full year, humbled and powerless under her enchantments. How the depredations of Molthune came to the borders of the Firalan groves in the Fangwood, and Ayanna bestowed Evert back his weapons and armor to protect her groves and the denizens of the forest. How Evert became the ‘Green Knight of the Firalan’ and embraced it in truth, his true purpose revealed to himself from humility and service and the stamping out of all hubris and pride. How after another year had passed Ayanna grew out of her own capriciousness and fell in love with the changed Evert, dismissing the remainder of her slaves to devote herself wholly to him, though saddened his love for her was only by virtue of her enchantments. How, in the third spring of the war, Ayana entreated with the Seelie Court for a foretelling, desperate to seek how to forestall the coming devastation – the dryad learned she and Evert each had Doom upon them, but that the Firalan and the Fangwood would be saved if she let him go by the summer solstice to fight the war with his brother, though her Doom ensured she would not survive to another spring. How Ayanna revealed to Evert the knowledge of their Doom and her sacrifice to release him from all his bonds for the good of all they held dear, even though it would hasten her own end. Evert, however, revealed he had already thrown off her artificial enchantments a year prior when he became her Green Knight, his love for her of his own free will. They remained together to the last sunset of the Solstice, whereupon Evert left Ayanna to return to the world outside the Firalan and reconcile with his brother, Irgal Nirmath…
”…and so Evert came to the aid of Irgal Nirmath in the very hour of his need, overturning a prepared ambush of Nirmath and his personal company by the cunning and cruel Imperial Executioner Benzennzer and his slayers, slaying Benzennzer in turn single-handedly. There on the banks of the Marideth River, Evert and Irgal reconciled in full, the past disagreements and differences between them all but forgotten. With Evert at his right hand as his trusted and most capable battle-captain, Nirmath’s companies and skirmishing bands became a powerful army by the fourth year: the forming of the Companion Cavalry, foiling the wily Marshal-General Klebos and his Northern Army of the Tourondel, sundering the Iron Juggernaut of Molthune as it tried to destroy Tamran – these things Evert achieved and more. He wore the colors of his beloved Ayanna as his own, the green and gold, adopting it as his standard wherever he went. Always at his brother’s side from the time of their reunion, there was but one exception: for after the harsh winter of that fourth year and a battle hard-won, Evert returned to the Firalan, to his beloved Ayanna and her ancient paueliel tree, afraid that her Doom had come and gone but having to see it certain for himself…”
Starting with those sitting at the table with the bowl, they see the delicate tree start to change color to a deadened grey color, leaves falling to powder, the verdant grasses and wildflowers along the bowl and surrounding tabletop fading in color to the pale white of winter while the storyteller continues to speak with sad tones of regret in his voice. ”The tale does not tell if Ayanna perished from depredation, disease or despair, but when Evert beheld the tree he saw it withered and gone, his lovely dryad departed.” The storyteller makes a slight nod with his chin, and the tree atop the bowl falls apart like chalk, the mound now just a field of white and grey powder. ”Her true love’s grief turned to retribution for a time, and for the remainder of that winter he stalked the desolate borders of the Firalan, exacting such a terrible price upon the enemy that they avoided that part of the Fangwood ever afterwards. Irgal did not know if his brother Evert would return to him…who here can say what the true toll of grief is? What love once lost can do to either man or woman? Such wasn’t known to Nirmath and his fledgling Banners of the Axe, but by Spring’s Thaw they saw Evert return to their camps and take up his place by his brother’s side once more.”
”In the seventh year and the final Battle of the Founding across the Marideth, it was Evert that held the left wing of the Nirmathi Free Companies against the best Molthune could throw at them, his Companion Cavalry in turn smashing through the Imperator’s honor guard like some grand charge of the Shining Crusade almost a thousand years ago. Sadly, Evert would be slain in that final battle, laid low by shadowy poisons and spells of Nidalese necromancers under the employ of the Imperator, but not before he witnessed the routed tatters of Molthune retreating from the field in panic and disarray. In the years afterwards Everton Keep was named in his honor, though it now lies in ruins after the endless battles between Nirmathas and Molthune since their independence. So too is the hamlet of Everton in the Chernasardo named for him, which still thrives to this day. Yet Evert himself was carried back to the Firalan by the Companions after his death, to the mound of the ancient paueliel that marked Ayanna’s passing, and it was there he was buried. But then a strange thing happened there…”
Once again the wooden bowl on the table changes, green grasses growing once again on top where it appeared dead before, followed by two small trees sprouting up slowly at the top of the mound. Spots of red, purple and yellow color complete the transformation of wildflowers in bloom.
”Three years after his burial, two paueliel saplings emerged from the mound where the original ancient tree once stood. Considered the rarest of blessings in all the Fangwood, centuries more shall pass before the two trees will be fully mature, but they are cared for and revered by all who call that part of Nirmathas their home, protected by the Chernasardo Rangers who patrol the forests and keep its denizens safe. Some say the trees are the spirits of Evert and Ayanna made manifest, or at least an echo of them anyway; others say the trees sprung from their love and sacrifice.” Zephyrus shrugs, smiling. ”Still others say they are simply trees from acorns that grow like any other, the rise of two such saplings a mere coincidence. Who can say for certain? Whatever the belief, it is agreed none of it would exist today if not for the love of human and dryad, a tale of sacrifice by some to give hope to all, of Evert and Ayanna in the time of Nirmath.”
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.
Sunset is about to reply when,
....... 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?”
Her gaze turns, a very unfriendly glare in her eyes, as she witnesses the extra mess now puddling against the far wall of the tavern, even as the patrons begin to crowd closer to the minstrel and his tale. (¬_¬)
With a sigh Sunset returns to her duties, more so now that she has to bring out the mop and bucket, though the tall tale being spun at least slows things for her on the delivering of orders front.
"Hey, be careful!" says Varian before Phineas spills the drink on his arm. Varian tightens his jaws to try and restrain the words he would have liked to speak against the man, but he quickly manages to refrain from saying anything insulting. "There's no need to, sir, I can just...", he says trying to avoid the man to clean him, but when he notices the handkerchief he suddenly stops and let Phineas do the cleaning. A code.... "Thank you sir. Oh, and nice handkerchief", he says with a nod.
Then, will everyone is focused on Galen's performance, Varian takes takes a sit and studies the code on the handkerchief. It takes only a few minutes for him to realize how the cipher works. "Remarkable! Oh, that's where I saw him already! At the Temple of Asmodeus in Egorian. Nice try, Mr. Phineas. But this code is very simple...Maybe you've understimated me..., he thinks as he cannot just hold back a grin.
So, let's see what is written down here..."I want to join Silver Ravens"...Silver Ravens?! Darn it, this is a dangerous handkerchief indeed! Silver Ravens have been lying in dust for almost a century now...But I suppose he can be interested in joining the Silver Dragons as well...Let's continue..."Wipe brow to signal"...Well played, my ex asmodean friend. While everyone is still intent on listening Galen's story, Varian wipes his brow to Phineas. Well, at least I've got a potential new recruit...A dangerous one indeed. Varian stands up and moves closer to Phineas, sitting just next to him. "Your handkerchief sir", says kindly Varian as he hands the handkerchief out to his original owner. I don't know if I can trust you yet...This could be a trap, and I don't want to risk so much...But you will make for a very good rebel Mr. Phineas.
Phineas pretends to intently watch Galen's story unfold while watching Varian out of the corner of his eye. His heart skips a beat when he realizes that Varian is reading it now.
He's reading it. He must have training in codes and ciphers to recognize it so easily. If he's actually a plant for Thrune, I have a feeling the next few hours will be interesting indeed. I can only pray I've read him correctly.
As Varian wipes his brow, Phineas' internal trepidation only increases.
Well, that seals it. He's clearly got the message. Now to see if he shows up, sends a proxy, or isn't interested.
Phineas takes the handkerchief back, and tucks it in an inner coat pocket.
"Thank you. Again, I am sorry about the drink. If I can ever be of service in the future, do not hesitate to ask."
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"Thank you kind sir." is Isabel's only response as Phineas and Julius go through their pantomime of secret communication. So, the scholar has something he wants to pass on - given this environment it must be illicit. Inviting him might be too much of a risk now... but I need Tenassen for cover...
As she writes swiftly Isabel hears Aada start muttering words that can only end badly. Thankfully Zephyrus' story hold the attention of the tavern patrons and no-one seems to have noticed. Isabel keeps writing, keeping half an eye on the prosperous man who had been staring but now seemed reluctant to join her.
"Please come and sit down sir. I don't bite."
Just when he thought he had finally found someone willing to help she ran off. He had to find his father. If he didn't the old man probably ended up in sleeping in the gutter, if the new Thrune tyrant didn't throw him in jail and torture him simply because he couldn't handle his pain. A pain Tychoi suspected was caused by the same Thrune.
Instead of getting down from the stool and moving to check another tavern Tychoi pulled a single sling bullet from his pocket. With a few words and gestures he turns the bullet into a source of brilliant light and with a few more words he floats it above his head. If this did not get people's attention he didn't know what would but he was getting desperate.
Sill cleaning up Sunset nods to Tychoi trying to indicate that she will get back to him...
Even as she redouble her efforts at cleaning away the soup 'spill' so that the collecting and dispensing of drinks doesn't get too far behind.
Aada leaned closer towards the table looking towards Taldo, "Have you checked with *hic* the good old Asmodean church. They like helping little old ladies in the night."
"Of course," she pauses for a moment, wither for dramatic affect or forgetting what she was going to say, "with the good Thrune in control now who knows."
"Roses aren't really my sort of flower, nor do I like them. Peonies and lavender are more my 'flavor'," she says, emphasizing for some reason the word flavor. Somewhere in the still sober part of her mind, even herself was unsure if she was hitting on him.
Instead of getting down from the stool and moving to check another tavern Tychoi pulled a single sling bullet from his pocket. With a few words and gestures he turns the bullet into a source of brilliant light and with a few more words he floats it above his head. If this did not get people's attention he didn't know what would but he was getting desperate.
Matty, initially intent upon listening to the Zephyrus' tale, turns to the halfling's very clear signal for attention. He had completely missed the little man's plea for help in the hustle and bustle of the pub, but the visual cue was eyecatching in the extreme, and his upset obvious.
"Whoa there!" Matty said, in his porter's accent. "What's the problem, friend? You seem upset, eh?" The Varisian Man seemed genuinely concerned, as he shouted over the crowd.
Tychoi turned to the man who finally paid some attention to him and shouted over the noise of the tavern. He sounded desperate, "I need to find my father before he gets himself killed. I can't find any trace of him. He looks like me, but older and with red hair. He must have been at least half drunk. I know he used to come here regularly in the past."
Looking over the crowd once more in a desperate search for his father Tychoi sighs. "I really need to find him, he needs my help." In his mind that was followed by "and I need him".
The door opens once again. Accompanied by a stiff breeze which swirls through the room, dragging with it the smell of the street, two figures stumble inwards. The female figure is dressed in fashionable and clearly well-made and well-fitting clothing which is, like her dark hair, messy and dishevelled. At her waist she wears a silver-hilted rapier. Glancing around the crowded room, she spies a spare bench near the door and, more than half supporting her companion, weaves her way towards it. Somewhat unsteadily she grins at the table's occupants. "You won't mind if I leave Veathan here? I think he's had a little too much to drink, but I think i could do with another!"
Without waiting for an answer she lets her companion slump to the seat. "And last night started so well too."
With that she turns back to the room and, steadying herself, begins to weave her way towards where she sees Sunset. "Well hello" she says, with a crooked grin. "What does a girl have to do to get a drink around here?"
Having done her best with mop and bucket, new/clean straw will have to wait till the brushing out early tomorrow morning, Sunset wipes a stray lock of hair from her face and turns to the woman who's entered already bearing spirits. She's glad that the Halfling is getting some attention with seeing about his troubles. When the latesy patron approaches Sunset nods,
"Yes Ma'am, right away ma'am. Any preferences? We've not a lot of choice." Sunset indicates 'The board' put up near/over the bar.
"The apple schnapps or apple jack is not too bad..."
Zephyrus looks around the room a moment before giving a deep bow to show he has finished his story; a scattering of clapping, pounding of mugs on tables and whistles give him the impression that he did well enough by most. Above the general mild approval, a few male voices are heard to give their boisterous opinions:
”Aww why’d kill ‘em off like that at the end there Zeph?”
”Hey you at the bar - turn that lantern off you lousy halfwit $%^@@#!”
”C’mon Zephyrus let’s hear Mott the Tart instead!”
A round of laughter erupts from several of the Old Kintargo locals around at various tables, with Zephyrus flashing a grin and holding up a hand in surrender. Mott the Tart was a cheeky favorite of the regulars who frequented the Tooth and Nail, full of innuendo and base lowbrow humor – something Setrona Sabinus prefers he tells to keep their moods light and the ordering of more cheap ale flowing.
”Well my friends, it’s not the tale for dancing a jig on the tables it is true, but I hope you enjoyed it all the same.” Galen as Zephyrus turns to Aleanya Deterion and gives her a deferential nod, asking, ”I do hope you found it to be satisfactory Mistress Deterion – at least enough to earn your favored feather token! If you’ll excuse me I need to meet with a few here momentarily, but that should give you time to judge whether I have your approval of the tale told.”
Galen picks up his half-empty mug of mead, clasping the more familiar Taldo on the shoulder in thanks as he sits at the table speaking with the other ladies there, and moves over to where Julian Vindex, Davis and Darian Aulamaxa are at, risking an interruption of their conversation to address the scholar directly.
”Learned Sage Vindex, pardon the intrusion but I wanted to say your estimations of my kapenia are quite correct, including your interpretation of the colors! I haven’t come across any…well…non-Varisians to know the kapenia’s significance before.” With an appreciative nod, Galen seems to be holding back a moment, but then adds with a rush, ”I’ve had classical training at the Alabaster Academy and have scholarly references there – in fact I’m heading up in the morning for a task – if ever you are needing scribing or translation work that is reliable I would certainly be at your service.” With a bow he adds, ”Galen Mistbringer at your service that is - my name apart from my act you understand. I’ll be here awhile tonight if you’d care to discuss it later.”
Excusing himself so as to not intrude upon the scholar Julian’s talk with the nobleman Darian and the merchant Davis, Galen next makes his way around to where Matty Rey sits, his attention focused on the halfling at the bar who rather rudely interrupted the very end of his tale with what was clearly to Galen an illumination enchantment. Gaining the Varisian’s attention he decides to see if Master Rey is truly from the homeland of his birth; Galen both speaks to him in the native tongue as well as gives him a subtle hand gesture that only true Varisians know, one that signifies parlay between members of different family clans. ”Salutări pentru tine Matty Rey , departe de patria nașterii noastre amândoi sunt da!”
He sets down the deck of simple gaming cards on the table in front of Matty, an invitation for him to use or inspect them if he cares to. "Normal cards only, although I still have my Nan's fortune-telling deck that I treasure as a keepsake even though I am not adept at readings."
hmmm, yes. The apple schnapps then. Selana replies to Sunset, casting her eye around the bar and clapping politely as Galen finishes his story. At the call for Mott the tart she grins. Recognising the ribald song's title. As Sunset returns, Selana takes the glass with a polite "Thank you." and then turns, once again, to survey the room. Over her shoulder she addresses the girl. "Well, it seems my partner has rather overdone himself this afternoon, and that leaves me with little to do. This place seems like fun, though I now find myself without a drinking companion. Tell me. Is there anyone here worth getting to know?"
As she moves off to continue serving the patrons Sunset indices the table with the collection of people,
"They seem right friendly enough. Don't think any of them seen each other before and they're getting along swell." She indicates the table with Aada, Isabel, Phineas, Varian and Taldo around it.
The door opens once more and this time it is one of the Dottari Guard that storms in. Almost immediately after his entrance most of the room quiets down. There has been a lot of events that have happened lately and the Dottari were rapidly gaining an ill reputation with the populace. Most of the patrons within the room seemed nervous, would the Guard stir up trouble? Was he here to arrest someone?
Most simply watched him, waiting for a cue on how to act around him.
The guard, a man of medium build and decked out in the Dottari uniform (which was significantly more muddied and wet, almost no gleam at all) and carrying a large shield slung across his back (and none would miss the sword strapped to his waist), this Guard looked around and saw all the hard faces.
The blazes! To think, I used to be liked by these people. Maaaan I just want a drink...
And with that he slumps over to the bar counter and sits heavily on one of the stools in front of Setrona, the look of a worn and weary man.
Complaining to Setrona (and loud enough that anyone listening in can hear) he says;
Here I have just gotten off of a looong night shift outside in the mist and the mud after having to deal with that... that... that madness outside. I just want a drink to soothe me and then go home to my bed. I am done. What do you have to drink? Whats strong?
With that most of the other patrons are significantly more at ease and a lot of the old hubbub starts to creep back, noise returning to the tavern.
We got ale. Even some of that Dwarven Sout. It should be quite heavy and will definitely make you forget your wearies. Im supposed to charge you 6sp for it Brian, but for you tonight? 5.
The guard looks up again. 5? sigh. Alright here it is. I really need it today.
.
After drinking a while others can see the Guards head start to droop, eventually dropping next to his 3/4 empty mug. Most would assume that he has gone.
Ah that tasted good. Ill just rest my eyes a moment. Maybe I can start to listen in to what the others are saying. I hate to think on what this is doing for our reputation.
Tychoi turned to the man who finally paid some attention to him and shouted over the noise of the tavern. He sounded desperate, "I need to find my father before he gets himself killed. I can't find any trace of him. He looks like me, but older and with red hair. He must have been at least half drunk. I know he used to come here regularly in the past."
Looking over the crowd once more in a desperate search for his father Tychoi sighs. "I really need to find him, he needs my help." In his mind that was followed by "and I need him".
Matty thinks back, running his mind over everyone he's seen in the bar over the course of the afternoon... There'd been another halfling -- yes, the bartender girl, but that was as far as it went. Certainly no older, drunk one, though he might just be passed out under a table somewhere.
"Sorry, lad," the tattooed man says to the distraught halfling. "I've no recollection of yer pa. Where'd y'leave him, eh? Mayhaps he's not wandered too far."
Then Matty turns towards the other Varisisan, who's taken up a seat opposite him.
"Salutări pentru tine Matty Rey , departe de patria nașterii noastre amândoi sunt da!” Greetings to you Matty Rey, far from the homeland of our birth we both are eh!
"Nam mi sed uia patentior ad diem peclaru in introi tuo ita et grandin occursanti relator!" Indeed my lord, yet a beautiful day to see the open road before you, so hail and well met, storyteller!
Matty smiles as he accepts the offered cards, sliding them towards himself. He cuts them twice, and then splits the deck a third time and shuffles the two halves with the practiced expertise of a regular card shark. He begins dealing the five cards for a hand of Ante, raising his eyebrows towards those seated adjacent to him. "Game?" he asks, smiling and placing a few silvers on the table.
"I didn't leave him. He vanished from our house in Redroof a few hours ago while I was busy arranging some family business. I've been looking for him ever since." Tychoi looked the Varisian man up and down, trying to figure out he could be trusted, "My mother and sister perished in the flames of last night and he can't handle it. I don't want to loss him too."
As he talks the man abandons him, talking in some foreign language. He jumps down from his barstool after pocketing the glowing bullet and simply heads into the crowd. He needed to find someone who worked her, preferably for a longer period of time, they might actually know his dad from when this was one of his regular watering holes.
Selana grins at Sunset "Thanks. If you feel like a drink for yourself have one on me. And join us if you have time, it looks like this rabble have been making you run all day." with that she drains the schnapps. "Oh, and bring me a bottle of that, and enough glasses for everyone at the table. I feel generous."
With that she moves over to the table and pulls up a chair, sitting and leaning back whilst hoisting her feet onto the edge of the table itself.. "Well who else feels like a drink," she says, I'm Saelana by the,...."
She trails of as the Dottari guard enters, and her whole attitude seems to change... Her hand moves to the hilt of her rapier, and her smile metamorphoses into a snarl. "Well. It looks like things might get more interesting after all." she mutters under her breath.
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'As a priestess of Milanite, you have no idea how right you are.' Taldo, determined to not let the truth of the Elfs statement shake him, attempts to give her his best smile. It touches his lips but not his eyes.
"I trust the Asmodean's have no need to help mu grandmother, new Thrune or no. However, If you make it to our butcher shop north of town, you may have met her. Cecile, wife of Festidious the butcher. She runs the counter there at the shop." smiling and nodding, 'how much more do I say' continuing. "She is also known for making very unusual soap, she uses the roses from her garden to improve it's scent."
He leans in toward the two ladies, more toward the younger half-elf, holding out the collar of his unbuttoned split-leather maroon doublet for them to smell the effect of the soap. Confident that his own natural aroma, with the gentle rose smell and the heavy smell of leather mixes for quite the masculine bouquet. At least that is what his grandmother tells him.
"That is a most lovely scent Mr Taldo. I'm afraid that I have not encountered your grandmother recently although I will certainly keep my eyes open. Such a lovely scent - I'd be delighted to acquire some myself." Isabel slides a small business card across the table to Taldo, the ink barely dry from where she has been writing on it.
"May I impose on you for a moment Taldo to watch my friend here? I'm taking her home in a moment but I must return this pen first." Getting up she favours Taldo with a smile and moves into the crowd, brushing past Julius, Leonardo, Darian, Avrora and Varian before returning to Phineus. "Thank you very much for the loan of your pen sir." She returns it with her final business card concealed beneath it, before returning to her table and waving Sunset over.
As she settles her tab, and Aada's, she whispers "I'm inviting a few of these people over later. If you want to meet them come for 10, if not then just sneak in and I'll get rid of them quickly". Easing Aada out of her seat Isabel supports her towards the door. "Come on Madame. Let us get you home."
The business cards she has left in different pockets or hands simply say I found your discussion very interesting tonight. If you would like to continue this conversation amongst friends then come to my house tonight at 10. They are unsigned but her name and address embossed on the other side should be a clear enough sign.
Galen professed that playing Ante for shields was much too rich for his current station, but he stood by to watch a couple hands being played at the table and idly chat with Matty, sipping at his spiced mead.
Of course the mead wasn't doing much for the lack of food in his gut. Excusing himself he headed back to the table where Aleanya Deterion was seated, a mental reminder to retrieve the overturned wooden bowl there and see if he could beg Setrona for some dregs at some point later on. It was fine if she didn't - Galen had gone without meals before and could do so again if need be.
He passes by Isabel with Aada on their way out, instantly aware the beautiful but acerbic woman (at least to Darian Aulamaxa) places a card in his pocket as he passes her. Intrigued but not calling overt attention to it, Galen takes a recently vacated seat at the table and smiles at Aleanya Deterion with a raised eyebrow.
"So, Mistress Deterion, your verdict?" He places one of his own wooden tokens of "Zephyrus on the table as if to exchange it for her black peacock feather.
Feeling a body brush past, Darian takes his eyes from his long presumed dead cousin and notes the shimmer of blonde and lovely form of Miss Rhelian gliding away through the crowd.
And what is this...she gets angered when I am nice to another woman then makes a point to...
Just then he notices something poke at his wrist from his pocket, and he removes the card that had been subtly placed there, he turns it over and reads the backside, then looks up again at the retreating dance teacher.
Ahhhh, she seeks a private audience, it would seem. Still...it would be difficult given the curfew...
Phineas gives Isabel a polite nod and a smile as she returns his pen.
"Aye, thank you miss."
He turns the card over briefly, reading it before tucking it in an inner pocket. He sips the remains of his drink as he contemplates this new invitation.
Hm...more direct than I would like, but perhaps a more direct approach is needed. That damnable curfew will make it difficult to reach her at the appointed time, but I do have part of a plan in place for how I can pull that off...if I dare. This could be a trap.
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After extracting Aada's lodging from her and depositing her there Isabel returns home. She is greeted by her maid, Annette, who is the only major servant she has.
"Evening Miss Isabel, did you find anything tonight?"
"I didn't actually Annette, but I did invite some friends around for a meeting later. I'll have to take a look in the wine cellar and see what I can come up with. Could you make up a couple of the spare rooms? We may need to offer some hospitality tonight."
As Annette turns to go Isabel calls back to her. "Don't worry about staying up. I can see them in and out later."
Once the house is put in order Isabel has a warm bath to pass the time and then retreats to her studio to work on a new requiem she has recently acquired. There is nothing now to do but wait.
As the afternoon winds down and patrons for the Tooth and Nail begin heading out in earnest due to the approaching curfew, it is apparent that everyone is in a rush to get home lest they be caught by the patrolling Dottari once the curfew is in effect. Even now, on the first day of martial law, things seem different around the town. Those crossing the Bleakbridge are now met with the new toll of three copper pinches - a small fee that only inconveniences those forced to pay it, but worse is the slowdown of the bridge itself due to the processing station near the middle of the bridge. This slowdown, while an annoyance for those wanting to cross the bridge, proves a boon to the myriad of shops and stores along the bridge; with delays slowing everyone down, it’s only obvious that people would shop while they wait, and the store owners are selling everything from dubious anti-devil trinkets and curios sold at two different shops, one by a tengu named Ravzee and another by a Varisian man named Dath Nerekni to Saal Morvetchti’s beloved cinnamon rolls at the Cinnamon Bliss. A few get their shoes repaired at one of the numerous cobblers on the bridge, while others get fish, smoked meats, and cheeses from various shops. All in all what is usually a rather busy area for the shopkeepers has proven to become even more profitable since Thrune’s appointment - showing that not everyone is unhappy with the current arrangements.
Nevertheless, it past curfew as a group of stragglers arrive at Isabel Rhelian’s modest abode; Luckily for them, each one was either able to get across the bridge prior to the curfew or sneak along the wooden docks that line both sides of the bridge, avoiding the River Talons gang that frequents it. Others talked their way past the guards, bluffing ignorance about the new curfews and using their charm and a few greased palms to get past; all in all though, only five people from the Tooth and Nail show up to the meeting at Isabel’s.
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Darian arrives shortly before 9, stopping on the way to procure a single lily, before finding himself at Isabel's address. He knocks and waits politely for her answer, using his magics to cleanse his attire and create a faint smell of cinnamon about him.
Phineas leaves the Tooth and Nail in time to return home for the curfew, and spends the evening forging orders for a member of the Dottari to be dispatched to guard the burned out rubble of the Victocora Estate to deter looters.
The bells rang 9 some time ago...it is time.
Phineas walks down the narrow back alley stairs that lead to his second floor apartment, still dressed with false beard and bulky coat from earlier in the night. Before heading out to the main street, he checks his pockets to verify the forged papers are still there. With a deep breath of cold night air, he mutters a quick incantation. Seconds later, a young blond soldier of the Dottari in armor stands where Phineas stood a moment before.
Time to move, I only have 10 minutes until this fades.
Phineas strides out of the alley, purposefully moving towards the Greens. The streets are deserted, the curfew effectively ending curtailing the normal hustle and bustle that could be expected on an early evening in the city.
At the entrance to the Greens, Phineas is briefly challenged as to his purpose, but is quickly waved through when he states his assignment to guard the ruins. A minute later, Phineas stands on the door of the Rhelian estate. Seeing that the surrounding area is clear of guards, he dismisses the spell, transforming back into Davis the merchant and knocks on the door.
"What am I doing up here?" Galen catches himself that he actually whispered that out loud, and nervously looks around in the bushes where he camps out in impromptu fashion, looking towards the middle of the park and the sounds of nightbirds nearby at the lake there. No one's about so I just need to calm myself...this is foolish! And I'm hungry and shivering cold and these bushes are wet...stupid stupid!
Galen is on the southeastern side of Villegre Park, a park he knows well from his near five years as an enrolled student at the Alabaster Academy. In many ways the Villegre is a second home to him aside from Old Kintargo: the park bearing the district's namesake that he spent many a day idling about discussing history or philosophy with Dany and his other scholarly friends, the Academy grounds with all of its worn halls and curious old buildings, the many taverns, inns, teahouses, boarding houses and curio shops of Villegre around the northern and eastern edges of the Alabaster Academy proper, catering to the academia of the city, where he once lived and studied and entertained as many fortune Kintargans do so now. Though he could no longer afford that life after Nan died and his money ran out just over a year ago, he felt he still had strong ties to it.
Still, he no longer lived here and had no place in the Villegre to call his home. He got across the Bleakbridge just past dusk all right and found a warm space in the Long Roads where he splurged for some coffee and a slice of bread to at least put something in his stomach - some of his last coins until he could gain an advance on the scribing job he had lined up in the morning. Just threefold hours to wait and he could make his way to the finest part of the city short of The Greens, where Villegre's East End gives way to the elites past the main road to Nightways Gate, just before the great walls that separate nobility from wealthy commoner. Students called it The Wedge. He'd never been there, never had any reason to before now.
It was all going fine until just past the eight-hour, when word spread from the outside that the Dottari were coming to the Long Roads to enforce the curfew and arrest loiterers. Within moments the coffeehouse packed with students and scholars scattered out-of-doors, Galen included. He had nowhere to go - well nowhere to go aside from showing up unannounced at Dany's flat, or the one Gleesas shared with two other students he didn't know well. Neither was a promising idea, so he ran into Villegre Park and through the more obscured pathways until he rounded the lake and found a cluster of bushes to hide in.
I should've gone to Dany's flat...and then what? Tell her I came to stay a candlespan or two and then head off to the Wedge to meet with a beautiful woman who gave me a meeting card? At night? Oh yes that would've been outstanding! Chances are if I stayed at the 'Tooth and Nail' I could've stayed warm and gotten Insome to filch me some fish for a pinch or two...serves me right if I get pinched myself up here...reminds me of the night Dany dared me to swim in our birthskins in the park lake there...but that was worth it and with this Isabel woman that's not going to...and I wouldn't even THINK THAT!
Galen taps his head three times as if tapping a mug of tea dregs out, taking a deep breath and looking around once more for signs of Dottari patrols or other suspicious types in the park. Nothing. He's already sorted out his course from Villegre Park - cross to the Alabaster and skirt around the southern side to where the student "ghettos" are sure to be active still, using his magic to keep hair and cloak dark and unobtrusive. Then it's a winding trek through the alleys and sidestreets of the East End until he gets to the Way and crosses it to the fancy places of the Wedge. Thankfully the place is just a street off of the Way and north of the Greengate...Luck of Desna tonight I'll need...I call upon favor of the mouse...
Shivering, and with another uncomfortable rumbling in his gut, Galen shakes off his cloak and secures all the ties once more, and then heads out of his hiding place to make this once-intriguing meeting that may get him arrested. There'd better be something to eat...
Surprise to receive another invitation for a private meeting, Varian starts thinking about how to reach the meeting place. The guard will be patrolling the city after the curfew, so I'll need to find a way to move past them. Maybe I can feign ignorance: after all, the curfew was proclaimed only recently. Yeah, guess I'll try that way.
---
Exiting the Tooth and Nail and on his way to Isabel's, Varian does a drop at a florist he has visited many times in the past. Gellius, the florist, did know him well: he was used to go to him to buy flowers for Celissa, her loved one and bride-to-be. This time, though, the single red rose Varian purchases is not intended as a romatical gift. Varian also buys a glass vase on his way to Isabel's and thankfully he has no problems moving past the bridge, using his eloquence to convince the Dottari to let him pass.
---
Upon arriving at Isabel's modest abode, Varian politely greets Annette, the house-servant welcoming him. He does allow her to take his robe as he enters, revealing another set of clothes underneath. A black and red vest with gold thread worn over a silk black blouse.
As he makes his way into the house, Varian stops to greet the house-owner: "Good evening, Mrs. Rhaelian. It's a honor to be here, thank you for inviting me. Getting past the blockade at the bridge was no easy thing, but I somehow managed to. I fear many of the invited won't make it though". He smiles, politely, and takes a sit. As soon as he notices Darian, Varian immediately stands up and moves closer to him. Instead of greeting him with the usual detachment, Varian stops at a few inches from the man, staring at him with his icy eyes. One second after, he hugs the man in a vigorous hug, giving several pats on his shoulder. "Cousin! I've been missing you! It was so bad that I couldn't reveal myself at the Tooth and Nail before. I'm so glad that you're here as well", he whispers before letting Darian go.
Avrora considers the card placed discreetly in her pocket.
She should have guessed she would draw attention to herself. She was never very good at subterfuge or deception, so why should she expect to successfully play the secret spy now? Her temper had always been her downfall; her mother had said so many times. At the thought of her mother, her jaw tightens.
Perhaps it is time to make new friends, then.
Keenly aware of the curphew, and wanting to avoid undue attention, she pulls her cloak low over her brow and makes her way quickly toward the Bleakbridge. She has a long walk ahead of her.
"Naturally I would find myself walking back toward the Greens. On my first day returned!" she mutters to herself (another bad habit).
As she makes her way across the bustling bridge, the smells of streetfood cause her to salivate and remind her she has not eaten this day. She purchases two apples and a sweetbread. The apples are crisp and sweet, the juice exploding as she bites into them.
She is ever vigilent that someone may recognize her, but it seems that despite her constant regard for Kintargo, it has kept on quite well without regard for her. This is a relief.
As the curphew approaches, she hastens. Keeping to the shadows even before then, she avoids others (especially groups) at all costs. Her armor and weaponry could raise suspicion, she knows, yet the weight of her morningstar and shield comfort her.
She finds her way to Isabel's address about half past nine. The lights are on.
This could be a trap, Avrora.
Of course, it could also be an opportunity.
She knocks.
As Varian greets him, admitting his true identity, Darian returns the hug before pulling him aside.
The moment another guest arrived, Darian realized this was not the type of social call he was expecting. He politely delivers the flower to Isabel before finding himself a seat, his curiosity now getting the better of him.
Interesting. For what purpose does the dancing teacher have with this motley crew. Myself and Varian, the hot-head, the story-teller, and the lawyer. A strange ensemble to say the least.
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At the rather early knock Isabel goes downstairs to deal with the matter herself. Darian is therefore confronted with an Isabel dressed in rather less splendidly than before, in sensible, relatively tight clothes and dancing pumps.
"Mr Aulamaxa, come in. You're early - the others should be joining us within the hour." She brightens when offered the flower. "Thank you very much. I'm sorry about what I said at the tavern earlier, I thought you were making a move on the poor girl. Please accept my apologies. Do make yourself at home." She leads him into the sitting room and then hurries out.
She returns shortly, having washed and changed her clothes. She settles opposite in a chair opposite Darian and makes small talk.
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As Avrora arrives Isabel gets up and goes in to kiss her on the cheek. "A pleasure to meet you. I'm sorry we weren't able to talk earlier, but I was so intrigued. Do come in, we're waiting on a few more people." She disappears long enough to collect the wine and glasses which Annette prepared and returns to offer refreshment.
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The final time the bell rings Annette opens the door and ushers in three guests in quick succession, at least one shivering from the cold. Isabel greets them all warmly and offers wine 'to chase away the chill'. Her pleasure at receiving the rose and vase is unashamedly genuine and she watches with a benevolent eye as Varian and Darian (or V and D as she now thinks of them) embrace and conduct a short conversation.
"Since I don't expect anyone else will make it we might as well start. Thank you all for coming this evening. I found your conversation at the Tooth and Nail very intriguing but the presence of a former teacher prevented me from joining you. Since the conversation seemed rather... opinionated I thought this would be a conversation best continued in private." She smiles around the room and sits down. "You all know my name but I'm afraid I do not yet know all of yours..."
"Think nothing of it, m'Lady. It was an easy message to misconstrue, looking back on it."
While she is away, Darian takes the opportunity to remove the rough-looking cloak he had been wearing earlier that day to conceal his identity for a short while, and hangs it on a nearby coat-rack. He steps towards a comfortable arm chair, taking a moment to unclasp his sword belt and prop the blade up against the chair, keeping it near enough for easy grasp but allowing him to be more relaxed.
When she returns, he stands and bows slightly to her. Darian speaks politely with Isabel, though when her attention is drawn elsewhere he inevitably takes the opportunity to let his own eyes take in her exquisite figure.
Perhaps she is right...perhaps I am in need of more dance lessons.
Eventually though, he begins to grow tired of the small talk, and poses the question, "So, what do I owe the pleasure of your invitation, Miss Rhelian?"
It is then that the other guests begin to arrive...and realization truly sets into Darian's mind that this was not to be the type of visit he had expected. He takes up a more formal posture in the chair, and greets each of the newcomers politely.
"And to which conversation, if I may ask, are you referring, m'lady? There were several taking place all at once at the Nail."
Varian smiles widely realizing that his cousin still remembers his face: "They sent me in Egorian...In the Asmodean Church, to join their ranks. But I just couldn't...You know, Darian, many things happened since the last time we met, and it's so difficult to explain them all together now. But there's one thing I do know: I'm happy to see you cousin." Varian looks around, carefully pondering what to say next. The he shakes his head and smiles. For the Nine Hells, this man is my cousin, I don't need to lie to him. "You're right Darian. Everyone has deemed me dead. That was what I wanted to. I wanted to vanish, vanish to follow what truly matters to me, vanish to protect my own city, my homeland, my true family...Kintargo." Varian sighs. "I'll explain you everything later, now we shouldn't be attracting all the attentions on us..." He turns and smiles broadly as he notices Avrora is here too.
Phineas follows Annette into the sitting room, hanging his coat on a nearby rack and taking the offered glass of wine with a thanks.
This could be more than I dared hope. Julius and the woman who responded so strongly to my mention of the Dottari, both here, and none of the others seemed a friend to Thrune. We're either all about to be arrested, or I have found what I am looking for.
As Isabel finishes her introduction, Phineas steps forward.
Greetings, my lady. My name is Phineas Aceron. Some of you may know me from my law practice; I know I have reviewed or written contracts related to several of your family's business dealings in the past. I apologize for my deception at the tavern, but I am most disturbed by recent events, and wished to reach out and find individuals of like mind. I felt it prudent given the situation to avoid publicly associating myself with talk that might be viewed in a...shall we say, negative light by our new lord mayor, and so attended in disguise. Given the individuals gathered here, I assume you are referring to the talk of taxes, roses, fire and the dottari?
Annette answers the door, ushering Avrora into the immaculate foyer. The maid offers to take her coat, but Avrora shakes her head. "No, thank you, I won't be staying long."
Suddenly Isabel appears--warm, welcoming, a gracious hostess, she glides back into the sitting room, gesturing for Avrora to follow.
Once inside the elaborately appointed parlor, she lingers by the doorway, ready to flee at a moment's notice. She looks around the room, noting the familiar faces. Her eyes settle on Julius Vindex. She is delighted. "Julius!" she whispers, much too loudly, rushing to his side.
"The rose! I didn't... I don't know... I just assumed! So many ideas were rushing through my head, and I was so unsure!" Isabel coughs gently from her perch on the chair. Avrora stops, realizing that she must sound puerile. She straightens, listening to Isabel's introduction.
At the request to give her name, she clenches her teeth, debating on the best course of action.
"I am...Avrora." She takes a deep breath, as if coming to an important decision. "My name is Avrora Vikta. If any of you keep your ear to the ground on the comings and goings of this city, you may know that name. If you don't, I'll spare you the details. I have spent many months away, in exile you might say, having only returned yesterday. I must say, things have certainly taken a turn for the worse. If that were possible."
This is 'Davis' from the Tooth earlier? Well now that's quite a wardrobe change...this wine is truly fine but...what IS all of this?
Galen sits as far apart from the others as he dares is socially acceptable in the lavish sitting room, sipping a glass of wine that is probably more in silver shields than an entire pitcher's worth in the finer taverns of Villegre when he was a wealthier student. In a real glass no less. He looks around the room as the former "Davis" speaks of his upper-class endeavors, wondering ever-so-briefly if he needs scribe-work jobs done on the side before firmly dismissing it out of his mind. The finery and bearing of those assembled around Galen make him feel...small somehow, as he first felt when he enrolled in the Alabaster years ago after his naming day, but he squelches it down in his mind and locks those feelings of ineptitude away. This is serious business...and he realizes he may have just put himself from the roasting spit into the fire.
Far different from his appearance at the Tooth and Nail, Galen has brown hair and wears common garb of greys and browns, though his kapenia scarf is still in the colors of green and purple with a touch of sky blue in it. He peers intently at "Julius Vindex" for a moment, noticing the familiarity he seems to have with the scion of Aulamaxa. Is he a scholar? I'm starting to doubt that...certainly no scholar I know of would act in such a peculiar way and cozy up to a nobleman if they were not already well acquainted...though do I really know how sages and learned men act when they are not conducting their studies or teaching?
In fact, they all have a bearing of being...greater...than they profess to be. They have the bearing of those who are accustomed to being heard. Galen starts to doubt he was invited here to speak of his stories, or of gaining a choice side job with his academic talents, or of anything else he was thinking possible. As Avrora Vikta speaks - Exile!? Rose? - Galen listens and smiles blankly, though his eyes occasionally dart to where the exits to the parlor are.
"True, things seem to be bleak," Darian says. He takes a sip of wine, and adds, "But, is this not the way of things, they ebb and flow like a river, sometimes there is a waterfall, others a nice and gentle current. Give it time, it will surely pass."
"My lord, I wish I was so certain. A river's flood can cause great damage before subsiding, and I fear what damage this Thrune mayor will bring before the end."
Phineas' voice quiets.
"The fist of hell does not clench softly. I do not believe matters will halt at closing the opera and deadening the night with a curfew."