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Nestled in the bustling Merchant Quarter of Absalom, the Hookscratch Inn is a large establishment that caters to the adventuring crowd. Boasting a large cellar full of exotic ales and live entertainment, most non-council members of the Grand Lodge have attended at least one night of merriment here.
It is a primarily oaken building that boasts a sturdy construction and pleasant aroma. There are enough tables present to comfortably accommodate up to 70 patrons at any given time. Most nights, however, it isn't that busy.
A sizeable stage takes up the corner of the dining area, and two log staircases are located on either side of the wide bar.
Steins hang on hooks above the serving area, and the kitchen is isolated behind sturdy metal doors, connected to the main room mainly by a large window created for delivering orders.
There are 14 rooms on the second floor, and one large sleeping area on the third.
The live-in staff have their own quarters off of the common area.
The cellar has a sub-basement, but only the inn's jovial owner and bartender, Miss Crimson, has the key.
There is a stable just outside of the inn with the ability to house 20 beasts of burden comfortably.
Morning comes to the inn as soon as the crickets stop... It is measured not by daylight, but by various internal clocks. As well as the singular mechanical dial nailed to the wall next to the third front window.
Ms. Crimson and Hallowid, the sleek black cat that is currently sleeping on the bar in the next room, wake up simultaneously, green eyes sparkling in the pre-dawn light.
The woman pulls herself out of red silken sheets from the master bedroom of the employee wing and uncovers a heatlessly burning candle to tiptoe through the corridor connecting her room to those of the others towards the small chamber at the end, wherein there lies a tub that pumps water directly from their private well.
It is not naturally heated, however, and this, more than anything else, puts the spring in the proprietress's steps.
Hallowid, meanwhile, stretches her legs and begins to pace up and down the counterspace, staring to make sure nothing is out of place.
Half an hour before dawn, Aebin awakes and greets the day. He yawns, picking up a towel and a roll of tape off his table before exiting his room in the common area. He slings the towel over his shoulder and begins wrapping his wrists and forearms as he walks out to meet the brisk morning air.
Outside the massive half-orc does a series of stretches that wakes him up and gets his limbs coated in sweat. When he's good and loose he arbitrarily picks a direction and begins his daily morning run. After ten minutes fate puts him in front of Mrs.Shae's bakery and he stops to buy a loaf of fresh bread and several danishes. With a warm smile he wishes her a good day and ducks through the door before heading back to the inn. On the way back he eats through the food at an alarming rate, the massive half breed consuming a meal for four by the time he gets back.
Once inside he does a sweep of the first floor rooms, making sure everything is accounted for and is ready for the day. Once satisfied he goes and gently wakes up the staff that is required to wake up early, then checks the notes behind the bar for what patrons wanted a wake up call. He goes and knocks on each of their doors, being as quiet as a three hundred pound fighter can before heading back to the common room.
His morning routine done, Aebin sits in his favorite chair in the corner. The chair is larger than the others and reinforced to better hold his weight. The corner position allows him to see everything inside the main room as well as the street in front. He takes out his pipe, lighting it after a few strikes and puffing a ring of smoke outside the adjacent window. Then he pulls out his book, The Tales of the Great Sven. Aebin has never been a particularly fast reader, but he enjoys the tales of heroism and adventure captured within the pages. Here he sits and smokes and reads, waiting for the first early birds to come.
Cyrielle wakes up to the sounds of running water in the next room over. She chose the room during the morning when the staff was out and the quarters were quiet, but every morning Ms. Crimson's bath awakens the little blonde-furred kitsune. She looks up at the bottom of her mattress, crawls out from beneath the bed, and gives herself a quick lick clean. Pulling on the white linen skirt and yellow blouse she picked for the day, as well as her work apron, Cyrielle steps out of her room, shifts into a gangly-limbed, auburn-haired girl of perhaps thirteen, and steps out into the common room.
"Unc' Aebin, what're ya readin' today? Will you read t' me? Just until the boss-lady comes out, please? And who's the Great Sven?"
Not waiting for an answer, Cyrielle climbs up the half-orc's chair and perches on the top of the back, just above his head. There she sits until Ms. Crimson arrives, looking over Aebin's shoulder and occasionally looking out for the cat.
Aebin looks up from his book, smiling at the little barmaid who's always so cheery. "Good morning Cryrielle." When she runs over he hurriedly puts out his pipe, fanning the window a little. He laughs as she scampers up on the back of his chair. "It would be my pleasure to. Sven was a young warrior who befriended a newly hatched dragon and grew up to be a mighty dragon rider. He and his golden dragon Aurex were widely loved and respected across all the lands, for they were friendly and fair and just." Aebin opens the worn book to the beginning of one of the chapters. "Sven and Aurex were flying past the mountains when they saw a village down below..." Aebin may be a slow reader, but these pages he knows well and he embellishes the story with character voices and movements, even roaring when the dragon does. To anybody that walks in, he couldn't appear any more as the perfect example of a gentile giant.
The first of the early-rising patrons begin to filter down the stairs by the bar. The one at the fore, a particularly pallid man Aebin and Cyrielle know as Lathello leaves payment for his midday meal in the usual place to await collection before giving the duo a polite bow and leaving the inn.
A gnomish man with a bright blue mustache, however, whom the two barely know, takes a seat nearby to listen to the half-orc. He seems quite keen on hearing the story, but his eyes wander to the employee's wing every ten seconds or so.
He's waiting for something.
It's not malicious, though. There's something childlike about this.
The owner's cat sits near the dropped-off payment and begins to stare into the kitchens.
"Sir! Welcome to the Hookscratch Inn. We have a-ccomm-o-dations upstairs if you're looking for them, and our specials of the day are...are... We have specials today. Can I help you with anything?"
Cyrielle slides off the back of the chair, landing with an "oof" on the floor below and moving quickly to try to help the newcomer. She makes sure to give Hallowid a wide distance; the cat's been known to pounce on the girl. As she does, she notices him glance at the door again.
"Are you...are you waiting for the boss-lady? She won't be out for a bit yet."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll have breakfast, soon. And it's fine, fine..." he chuckles.
"I just.. I just think I might have lost something."
The tabby turns to bore proverbial holes in the back of the small barmaid's head.
Aebin gives a nod to Lathello as he leaves. When the gnomish man walks in he arcs a brow at the mustache, but continues to read while keeping an eye on him.
Aebin listens to the conversation, also sparing a glance for the cat. His attention turns back to the man as he mentions losing something. "'Morning. Name's Aebin, I work here. Can you describe what you've lost?"
"Oh, I wouldn't worry. I am sure it will turn up soon, sir."
Ms. Crimson emerges from the door suddenly hastily-dressed in a baggy, long-sleeved bright red affair with her normally-tied-back hair dripping wet, carrying a live mallard duck under her arm. She lacks her usual boots, and only her lengthly shirt makes up for an obvious lack of pants. While she still stands perfectly erect, it is hard to look respectable under the circumstances.
She has a half-smile on her lips as it merrily quacks a sailor's shanty in whatever language ducks utilize.
"Twould seem someone misplaced their bathroom-invasion-duck," She drops it unceremoniously on the floor. "There is something to be said about waterfowl materializing out of a spigot, but I am not sure it is reserved for polite company."
Aebin shifts halfway out of his chair upon seeing Ms.Crimson burst out looking haphazard, but leans back again as he sees her in a cheery mood. He chuckles at the duck. "Should I be worrying about bathroom attacks? What a fowl creature."
"Peddleton Fartwumps the III, at your service." the gnome cackles.
"As you can see, I have just finished a new product that is about to take the Inner Sea by storm. A cheap, magical item that turns into a living duck when placed in an enclosed space and wettened."
The little man just smirks as the duck waddles around for a moment, sticks out its tongue and explodes heatlessly into nothingness at Ms. Crimson's feet.
Hallowid hisses at the sudden sound.
Ms. Crimson quirks an eyebrow and gives Aebin a sidelong glance.
"Foul indeed."
She crosses her arms and taps her left foot impatiently.
"Sir, if you are here to solicit, you need to get permission first, brilliant though this prank might be."
Peddleton Farwumps the III. That name's longer than any ought to be. He almost jumps out of his seat at the explosion; such sounds are usually a clear indication that he's not doing his job well.
With a small nod to Ms.Crimson, Aebin stands and his personality flips from a friendly teddy to a bristling bear. He takes three long strides over to the little man, towering over him and placing a scarred hand on his shoulder. He exerts enough pressure to let the man know what strength he has, but not enough to harm him. "Time for you to go little man, the only question is if you're going out through the door or the window."
Cyrielle's eyes grow wide as the duck explodes and wider as Aebin gets up.
"Unc' Aebin, wait! I have a question before you make him leave. What does the duck do? Does it just quack and waddle and explode, or is there a reason for it?"
The Raven was sitting on the clock and tried to sleep, ignoring all the buzz and fuzz around him by hiding his head under a wing. He carefully peeked out from under the wing when he noticed Hallowid was approaching, but she wouldn't get him up here. And he noticed a couple of rats in the stable in case she needed action, so that should not be a problem nevermore.
However, he did smell a bit of man's greatest creation. Coffee from far lands, brewed into a black steaming potion, reviving. He loved coffee. He loved everything that was black, of course, sometimes even cats, but particularly coffee. He notices vaguely that the kind the way Miss Crimson is dressed is somewhat unusual for a human, but doesn't really think about it much.
Her fluffed and sorted his feathers quickly, then he sailed once across the room to land on the edge of the table.
Quoth the raven: "Good morning."
Followed by nothing but a yawning.
Then he tried to find some unclaimed coffee to dip his beak in.
The gnome's eyes go wide, and he quickly looks from Aebin to the little barmaid, gulping and waiting for permission to speak.
Aebin gives a glance to Ms.Crimson, ensuring she's alright with it before giving a nod to the man.
She nods.
Thinking to himself that he will never, ever, agree to meet anyone this early in the morning, ever again, Victor walks into the Hookscratch Inn
Um, uh, well, Good morning, I guess. Hello Aebin, Ms. Crimson, Miss Rousseau. So this is what the place looks like in the morning, who knew it was so clean. I'm supposed to meet a client. I'll just have coffee, if there is any, and a table in th middle of the room, if you don't mind
"I-t-t's a prank, my dear...! I thought the d-duck fitting...!"
The gnome sputters.
Ms. Crimson bows to the newcomer and leaves the prankster to her bouncer, though she is clearly upset with the gap in her security that allowed for detonating ducks to infiltrate her establishment.
She wanders over to the bar counter, avoiding her cat, now so busy staring at the raven nursing a mug that the enigmatic cook must have procured at some point.
"You may take a seat. As you can see, your punctuality has done you much good... My friend, you can have any seat in the house."
It's actually hard to tell if she notices the dishevelled state she's in, what with the lack of proper britches and shoes.
She eyes the raven that keeps getting into the place. Technically, it isn't squatting, and it amused the clientele, but she gives him a look.
"The next batch should be ready in a minute. Come now. Enjoy the show."
With a nod Aebin escorts Mr.Farwumps to the door. "Shouldn't surprise people like that, especially a lady so early in the morning. How'd you get inside?"
Looking around for crumbs to pick up he watches the conversation left and right. "As long as ducks are the only birds you make explode, I am fine with that. They aren't exactly the brightest lights anyway."
To Ms. Crimson he mantions, theatrically, but not necessarily honestly: "I am shocked beyond belief about this intrusion into your privacy. I can assure you, should you allow me to guard you while you bathe, such intrusions are entirely beyond possibility in future. Naturally I will take it upon me in order to ease your mind and your bath shall be disturbed nevermore." He raises to his full height and trees to appear stately a raven, but can't help but to peer leery to Hallowin.
She walked into the place like a dame that should have known better.
Yeah, she held her head high, looked down her nose, sure, but there was something else, something in her eyes, her big brown eyes. It was a sort of sadness I suppose. The kind of look a dame has when she is trying to be brave, and knows that there’s a whole lot of things out in that world she should be afraid of. She was certainly one of those dames, yeah a looker to boot, with light silvery complexion and hair as dark and silky as a night on the emerald sea. Yeah and that, yeah brother, that’s where I knew I was gonna fall, and fall hard.
She looked right at me, and then looked away. I saw her look the brute up and down, and for a moment I thought she might think it was him, but then I tipped my hat in her direction, and it clicked. Somebody must have told this dame about the hat. She smiled, and with long strides came right to my table. When she opened her lips to speak, I couldn’t believe how deep her voice was. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.
This dame was one of those Fembots, or Feminoids, or whatever they call ‘em, a gynoid, and one of the best built ones I’d ever seen.
Mister Jankowski She purred on all cylinders, I need your help. You see I seem to have made a mistake, made a terrible mistake and I need you to help me fix it.
I offered her a seat, and a cup o’ joe. She turned it down, naturally, and then went on
There are these people and they are after me because I have something. Something they want, but you have to believe me. I didn’t steal it. I found it. It’s mine now. Only I know how to use it, but they want to take it away from me. And,
She looked down, he silky hair spilled over her left ey and when she looked up a drop of moisture was forming in her right eye. This didn’t jive.
This dame was fine, sure, but she was a machine, there was no doubt about it. I’ve met a few of them in my day, most of them are pretty decent folks, a few of them aren’t, but one thing I know for sure. These types don’t cry. So I spoke up.
So, what is it sister? Spill it. Go on, don’t keep anything back. What’s got you so scared you’d come to a third rate dick like me?
She tossed her head to the side, flung her hair out of her face, and then closed her eyes.
I think they work for her. She said her voice wavering slightly.
Who? I asked, and already knew the answer.
She stood up, and then whispered, we should go someplace a bit more private
I reached out and took her wrist gently, it was warm, and her skin had a tingle that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Wait just a moment, doll face I said, and pulled her back to her chair.
Who is this broad that’s got you all worked up?
It’Dupree, She said, and then glanced left and then right. She’s coming for us. I know it.
The gnome is escorted outside without incident, though Aebin can't help but notice that he looks a little lost for a second... Suspiciously so... once he's on the street.
He eventually pushes on the bridge of his nose and toddles off.
"There's no more with my never." the woman responds to the talking bird. "I don't think you could handle the way your feathers would ruffle. Not a bird like you, anyway."Not with the intention to ruin an intimate an epic moment, Ms. Crimson slams a pot of coffee on the bar and looks to her barmaid.
"Cyreille, would you be a dear? I have pants to attend to..."
Aebin snorts as he walks off.
He goes back inside only to see Victor talking to another shady figure. Gonna be an interesting day. He walks over. "If you're in trouble with somebody you can take it somewhere else, we don't take kindly to troublemakers here."
It's alright Aebin, I say as I place a silver coin on the table.
This dame is with me, and she will be on her best behavior. You have my word. Now, as soon as she tells us her name. I'll introduce you to her.
One of the frustrating things about being a raven is that you cannot pout. Even when it is entirely necessary. But she shot him down elegantly, he had to give her that. Quoth the raven: "Croak!" and left the in for now, in order to fly after the gnome and check on him. He seemed to be nice enough.
"Oh! Yes, ma'am, of course. Attend to your pants." Cyrielle stops watching the funny gnome wander down the street and scurries over to the table. "Sir, our specials are...Oh no! I forgot to ask again! We...we have specials. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?" She pulls a notepad out of her apron pocket and looks expectantly at Victor, her eyes flicking down to look for loose trinkets on his person.
Ms. Crimson clears her throat with a gracious smile, pointing to the coffee pot, and then back to Victor, before making her way halfway across the room and giving Aebin a quick glance that more-or-less asks him to watch over the fort.
With that, she moves into the employee quarters again.
She stood and extended a hand to the bouncer My name is Rubianna Mysterian. My friends call me Ruby.
Coffee'd be the sweets, sugar. And don't you think you have enough of my ink pens lying around your bed already. Go on, get out a here, Victor says with a wink and then stands up.
It's real nice to make your acquaintance, Ruby. Now let's sit down and talk fees.