Aebin rolls his eyes, but smiles at the bard; he always enjoyed the man's performances.
When the first strums of the lute rise over the din of the Hookscratch at full capacity, Cyrielle puts down her tray of empty mugs and finds a place behind the bar counter to listen. Hal's performances at the Hookscratch are always pretty good, and she's really grown to enjoy them. She finds herself humming along with the lyrics, though she doesn't know the words to any of the songs he's playing tonight.
The bard gets a standing ovation, as he averages three days a week. He manages to net quite a bit of profit for the inn in other ways, too, and the gloved hands in the kitchen indicate that someone needs to replenish a couple of key stock items, soon.
The sober patrons start to filter out or move up to their rooms, but Ms. Crimson leaves Aebin in charge while she pulls Davi and Cyrielle aside.
"Davi, you first."
Davi nods to Ms. Crimson. Her fingers play with her silver necklace. "Well, M'am, I don't know if you heard, but over in Precipice quarter they lost a tenement to the ocean yesterday. Poor souls. And I was thinking, well, there must be some survivors. And seeing as we aren't always at capacity....maybe we could help some people get back on their feet?"
A hopeful look crosses her face "I could go looking for survivors tomorrow. Take them under my wing while they're here, they could help around the inn and it could be um good publicity for us?" Davi stares at Ms. Crimson with wide hopeful eyes
Ms. Crimson brings a thoughtful finger to her chin, studying Davi intently.
"We have... enough troubles with theft from the desperate, but I see the need. Twould be amiss not to offer a couple of rooms, but we couldn't lodge them all. If you could find perhaps one or two families, I could oblige."
Hoping that her older barmaid would be pleased with this, the innkeeper then turns her attention to the younger ward of the inn.
Over the next twenty minutes, Cyrielle receives a broad overview of how the act works, the risks involved, and how the young kitsune should never feel pressured to do it, as not all adults even engaged, and even then, there are only a few ways to prevent anyone from reaping the procreational consequences.
Cyrielle wakes up early, unable to sleep as long as she would have liked. A whole medley of dreams, from her friend Ricie's savaged and bloody body lying in the flooded streets of the Puddles to Ms. Crimson's lecture running through her head over and over, had kept her sleep fragmented and restless. The dreams had only stopped when she'd resolved to solve what problems she could. Hoping Ms. Crimson and Aegin aren't awake, Cyrielle straps on her dagger, hangs her small crossbow over her shoulder, and...
...tiptoes her way across the common room, making sure not to step on any of the three creaky floorboards. She eases the oak doors open and steps out onto the street, orienting herself to face in the direction of the Puddles district. The boss-lady and Davi will be soooo angry, but I need to make sure Ricie's safe, and maybe get him out of there.
Cyrielle goes to the Puddles district of Absalom to check on her friend, Ricie, a Tien boy perhaps two years older (using adult stats, will link to the NPC later). She met Ricie during her time as an orphan, but had lost contact after being adopted by Mrs. Rousseau. She’d gotten back in touch with him after her adoptive mother died and learned he was working as a lookout for a small-time gang and living in a burnt-out tower in the Puddles. With rumors of a werewolf in the Puddles, Cyrielle wants to make sure Ricie is alright, and maybe get him out of there if she can.
Social Challenges: City Watch, Beggar, Ricie, Ricie’s Gang Members
Skill Challenges: Navigate the City (K-local), swim across to Ricie’s tower (Swim), Evade the Werewolf (Stealth)
Scary Challenges: Werewolf, Wild Dog, maybe some rats (we’ll see if I can avoid the werewolf), Night in Ricie’s Tower
The wonderful smell of baking bread fills the air around Cyrielle as she makes her way across the Merchant Quarter. Though she tries to remain focused on her goal of getting to the Puddles, getting to "Ricie", and getting back before dark, the scent of the bread and her rumbling stomach make her very, very aware that she's skipped breakfast.
Stepping into a nearby bakery, Cyrielle is overwhelmed by the smells inside. She grabs a biscuit and starts making for the door before feeling the shopkeep's big, meaty hand on her shoulder. "You gonna pay for that, missy? You do, and it comes with jam. You don't, and it comes with a beating."
Cyrielle fishes through her many pockets, eventually finding a few silvers. Of course, mister. I'm sorry, I was just so hungry I forgot." She shoves them into the baker's open palm and resumes her trek to the Puddles, munching on her biscuit.
Now, I think there's a shortcut to "Ricie's" tower, if I just cut down this alley here. Cyrielle runs down the alley, slides down a broken stone wall, and looks around, surprised. The mud beneath her threatens to suck her feet and she begins a sort of ridiculous dance, first lifting one foot, then the other, as she takes in her surroundings. Definitely the Puddles...but where in the Puddles am I? Stagnant, fetid water has filled two low spots in the street she's on, trapping her between them with the broken stone wall and a tall, boarded-up building on the other trapping her. She sees a little hole in the side of the building, but as she walks to ward it she hears a deep growling from inside.
You can gather blackmail against a wealthy family with those checks, as they have already been passed, or make a new npc friend in any livable district of Absalom that will count as a friendly contact.
You could also get your way into a fancy art reception if you added a DC 20 bluff check to that mix.
You... actually managed to do that one your own beautifully. I have nothing to add unless, you know, you're about to die or something. Or want more input. Beautifully done so far.
The inn buzzes into activity quickly, but without Cyrielle being anywhere of note. This has Hallowid alarming as soon as Ms. Crimson is out of the bathtub *which got fixed out of sight and out of mind.
There was a note left behind inside that she scooped up on her way out and ate with urgency on her way out into the common room.
This is the first time I've done this, so bear with me :D Loooong post, I kind of got inspired
Davi is going down to the precipice district to look for some families in need.
Social: City Watch, Local thug, Precipice Locals
Skill: Navigate the city, (K-local), Get through Precipice ruins (Acrobatics)
Scary: Thug, Creepy precipice creatures.
Davi rises with the sun. She puts together a basket with some leftover food and basic medicine before dressing into her leather armor. After making (and consuming most of) a pot of coffee she exits the inn. It's been a while since she was in her armor; having it on makes her feel like she's stepped into an old skin. Barmaid Davi and Adventurer Davi are slightly different people.
Davi walks off toward the Precipice. She's confident of where she's going for the first half hour. But instead of coming across slums, the buildings become nicer and nicer. Cascades of flowers flow down from the balconies to mix with the well maintained flower beds in the street. The people here are clearly well off. They eye Davi and mutter to each other.
"Oh boy, I'm in the wrong place. This must be the Petal District. Maybe I can find a servant-" Her train of thought is snapped as a large hand takes hold of her left arm. Barely a second passes before her rapier goes from its scabbard into Davi's hand. She looks up and find that she's staring in the face of a man in a City Watch uniform. He does not look pleased. "Awww crap
"Changeling" The guard barks "Do you make it a habit of drawing steel on the city watch? What is your business here?
Davi offers the guardsman her friendliest smile. "Well sir, you see I'm a bit lost. I was going down to the Precipice to offer assistance; you see that basket there has some food and medicine. Somehow I got turned around" She does her best to look sheepish "Sorry about the rapier. It was an automatic reaction to being grabbed. My old trainer would roll over in his grave if I didn't draw when startled." Davi very carefully slides the rapier into its scabbard. The guardsman starts to look mollified. His grip loosens. Taking this as a sign of weakness Davi hits him with the puppy eyes. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just got lost. All I need are directions and I'll be on my way"
Ten minutes later Davi is back on her way. A folded note with written directions around the city now sits in her basket. "That guard was actually pretty nice once everything calmed down. What was his name, Cullen? Well, he knows where the inn is now, maybe he'll come by one night."
The sight of the precipice quarter causes Davi to slow down. "So much ruin...right here in my city. Gods. Why don't we fix this place? Davi keeps to her slow walk, eyes and ears open for trouble. Her rapier is back in her hand, its weight a comfort. Coming across a local woman begging Davi trades a loaf of bread for directions to the recent slide.
Davi is almost there when a man slips out of the shadows and into her path. "Well well well, what have we here? Does Precipice have a new delivery service?" The man looks her up and down. The grin on his face is decidedly unfriendly. "I'll just be taking what's in the basket, nice and easy" He cracks his knuckles
A small snort escapes Davi. She giggles for a moment then succumbs to full out laughter. She whoops a few times. "What, really? That's your act?" She does a wooden impression of the bandit "Hey, just give me your stuff ok?" She cackles. The few observers they've drawn in laugh quietly. The bandit's face turns red.
"Nowwww Davi drawls For my response, I have to say no.
Davi begins swinging her rapier in basic training patterns. She moves the rapier through them faster and faster. "I have been sent here by Lady Crimson to give aid where it's needed. And I haven't spent all those years in the army then training as a personal bodyguard just to hand over my charge to some trumped up bandit. Now be on your way before I'm forced to REALLY deal with you" The bandit gives her a bitter look before disappearing into the shadows.
"That was well done child" Davi turns to find a woman in priestly robes looking at her. "I am Ionna, priestess of Sarenrae. My temple is helping those hurt by the collapse. Tell me, can this Lady Crimson of yours offer us more aid?
Davi goes red. She doesn't look at the priestess as she says "That was um a bit of a bluff. Lady Crimson is the, ah, owner of the bar I work at." Davi peeks up at the cleric. She's surprised to find a gentle expression on Ionna's face. "Ahhh, I had a feeling you were bluffing. But what's this?" Ionna looks through Davi's basket with a fake look of surprise. "Here I see supplies we dearly need." "It's not much- Davi starts but is silenced by a wave of Ionna's hand. "Child, you came with help when it was needed. That's what's important. Now. Shall we take these to where they're needed?" Davi nods silently and follows Ionna.
The site of the collapse brings Davi to a halt. There's a row of ramshackle buildings that suddenly gives way to empty sky. A haunting reminder of what used to be there. Davi scrubs her face a few times before following the priestess again.
Davi spends most of the day working with the clergy of Sarenrae. She goes from the med tent to building temporary housing to passing out supplies; the last one brings a smile to her face as she sees the inn's good received with joy. It's long, hard work but Davi's happy to do it.
She's taking a much needed break when the sound of small feet break her out of a doze. A young halfling girl of about 6 looks down at her. Davi recognizes her from the food lines. "Lissa, what is it dear? Lissa bounces as she replies Davi, Davi, I found my dolly! But it's up waaaaaay high! Can you get her for me? Davi looks at the hopeful little face and knows there's no way she's getting out of this. "Alright little one" Davi groans as she stands up. "Let's go rescue her"
Lissa leads Davi to one of the buildings that stands next to the unfortunate collapse. Items from the lost tenament cover the building, preventing anyone from entering. And right up there on the second floor balcony is Lissa's missing doll. Internally Davi groans The guard's coming to clear that mess tomorrow, it would just be a day....oh who am I kidding, who can say no to that face.
Davi centers herself, drawing on her inner magic and confidence.
She manages to make the climb just barely, using her claws to help anchor her. She picks up the doll with a flourish and climbs back to the ecstatic halfing girl.
Davi follows Lissa back to the sad place where her family is living. It's not much more than a tarp stretched across some rubble. And yet that's home for Lissa, her parents and two brothers. Lissa's father, Guln, shakes Davi's hand but Davi's mind is miles away back at the inn. "..we're so thankful, Lissa carries that doll everywhere- Davi cuts him off Guln, I have an offer for you and your family. You know I work at an inn. My boss said that we could take in a family and I'd like it to be you guys. Now you might be asked to do an odd job or two-"A shriek cuts off Davi this time. Guln's wife Rilla throws her arms around Davi's neck. "Bless you, bless you m'am. We'll take the offer. Little Antal has the sniffles and the chance to get him out of the cold. Bless you. Rilla continues to almost choke Davi while Guln pumps her arm in a vigorous shake. It takes a few minutes for everyone to calm down.
It's getting late as Davi helps the family pack their few belonging. She quickly tells Ionna where they're going, and promises to return if she can.
The group sets out into the city with marked cheer. Davi carries Lissa and lets the young girl hold the map she got from Cullen earlier. "Well, at least I won't get lost this time. Davi grins to herself.
[spoiler=DM type rolls]
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He sits up. So who in the nine hells is Shailea's husband? The question had been bothering Hal ever since the near-fatal encounter with the faceless stalker yesterday. Clearly the man is either a powerful spellcaster, to have summoned such a thing, or very influential, to have gotten someone to do it for him. Or both. None of the people Hal might call friends have that kind of power or influence. And I do not like situations I can't control. It's time to take some control of this one. He visits the bathing room, dresses, eats a light breakfast rather hurriedly, and leaves.
Much more on alert now, half-expecting the stalker to jump out at him from any corner, his first stop is one of the local bakers. Juniper Shelkot was a longtime friend of Hal's, who had kept him from starving to death before he'd been taken in at the Hookscratch. The thing Hal likes best about him is that he always seems to know much more than any baker should. "Hal," the man's deep bass voice greets him from the back of the store, where he's busy kneading dough. "How've you been?"
"June, how many ogres have I bedded?"
"Three. 'Less you get queerer folk than I thought at that inn of yours."
Hal exhales with relief. "Good. Somebody sent a faceless stalker after me, and I had to make sure it was really you. I don't know how much it knows about me, so I thought it might've expected me to come to you. Don't worry, I'll get it taken care of."
Juniper just chuckles. "I know. You've slipped out of worse. Had stranger stories, too."
"You heard of a woman named Shailea? Long, straight black hair?"
The man shrugs and continues kneading. "Only one I know of is Shailea Petalwood. Never seen her myself. Quite a looker, they say, but her husband's been into some weird stuff. Some say he's crazy. Others, dangerous. I wouldn't try it if I..." He pauses, and looks up. "Hal, you didn't."
Hal shrugs apologetically. "She came to my show. Was quite impressed, if I remember right. So what's this guy been up to?"
Juniper exhales disapprovingly. "Caid? Don't rightly know, but people seem scared of him. And if he's the one who's sent this thing after you... Stalkers aren't born, you know. They're made. What kind of human can do that?"
Hal knows the history-- or some of it. It's said faceless stalkers were created by the aboleths, presumably to fight surface-dwellers. "The bad kind. Caid Petalwood, you said? Thanks, June." Without another word, Hal leaves the store. Now comes the interesting part.
As the dog's growls grow louder, Cyrielle levels her crossbow and pulls the trigger, but the bolt slams into the ground just behind the onrushing mutt.
She screams in agony as its jaws clamp down on her thigh, tearing her pant-leg and ripping her flesh. She panics, dropping her crossbow, running toward the building, and scurrying up the rough surface to a narrow little ledge perhaps ten feet above the vicious dog. There she sits as the dog first lunges into the air then sits and howls at her. Cyrielle wraps the scraps of her pant-let around the wound and the bleeding slows, then stops. After watching the sun move overhead, the dog finally leaves, perhaps searching for easier prey.
Cyrielle wraps the scraps of her pant-let around the wound and the bleeding slows, then stops. After watching the sun move from east to high overhead, the dog finally takes off, swimming across the rising water. The high tide is coming in. Cyrielle recovers her crossbow, loading another bolt into it before re-slinging it across her back, and leans against a boarded-up window. She has just enough time to let out a shocked "Eeep!" before the boards rotate in, depositing her on the stone floor of a building. A strong hand slams her into the ground, driving the wind out of her, while a different one puts a blade against her throat.
"Wait, wait! Don't kill her. I think I know this one." The voice sounds familiar to Cyrielle, but she can't quite place it. "Cyrie, that you? It's been a few years since you came around." Cyrielle, just re-catching her breath, can only cough weakly in response.
It had allowed her one last night to entertain Captain Seradain and his crew. Nothing was better than a receptive (and captive) audience where one could sing the familiar and raucous music that was so familiar to all sailors, regardless of language. She waved the crew a good by as they deposited her laugage at her feet.
“’cuse me miss, might you be need’n a han with those bags?”
Turning around she took in the youth who stood before her. Short and stocky, he looked strong enough and she didn’t have that much. Even so if all she had to carry was her harp and lute, it would make for an easier walk this early in the morning. Blue eyes peeked in false shyness from under wild mop of dirty hair. He seemed honest enough for the streets and devious enough to be scheming. Looking as young as she did, she need to be take precautions.
“She flashed him a warm and friendly smile, let him take her for an lamb. “I certainly could and you look strong enough. Might I see your hands?”
He cracked a smile as he extended hands in need of three or four cleanings palm up. “Troth I be strung as ya might need. More so I’m an ‘onest sort and will see you to a reprabl’ inn quick as cats.”
As she gently took one of his hands in hers and felt the hard calluses of a worker matched by the filed finger pads of a thief. She caught his bobble between you and ya’ and knew he was playing a part. He was a true child of the streets. His grinned broadened to a full on smile at her touch.
Before he could react and with the precision borne of hours of fingering a lute or harp she evoked a lesser magics and drew a sygil upon his palm. It glowed with a burning green flame that faded into his hand , staining it at he jumped back, fear in his eye. “Wha’ the ...” he exclaimed as he reached for a the dock knife he kept at his belt.
“Be calm” she grinned stepping back as she fished two silver lunas to catch his attention. “Tis but a simple charm to insure your honesty. See me safely to my destination and I’ll erase my magics with gold or say no and I’ll remove the enchantment and see you on your way. Your choice.”
Fear and greed warred behind his eyes. It was little surprise that greed won. Gold wasn’t a color that often appeared in the life of a street child without large risk. “Fair enough, miss. Nothing wrong with surety. Surety for sure as my Pa 'ust to say.” He laughed with a sound that resembled nothing so much as a donkey. “Do you know where you want to go?”
OOC: The spell was prestiditation 0 level
Dressed in her traveling clothes, with her harp secured to her back and her lute case slung casually under her arm, Jezalane paused outside the Hookscratch Inn and smiled. She remembered having stopped her for a night many years ago. She recalled, Otto saying it was the most interesting Inn the city held. “It’s like my mother-in-law’s mutton stew, while you might be able to find better ingredient individually, you’ll never find a better meal.” he had laughed.
That had been so long ago ....
Like a memory walking in her own footprints she thought, and for a moment the lines from Walstaret’s “The Haunted Stage” came to her.
“It seems to me as though I've been, upon this stage before
And juggled away the night, for the same old crowd.”
She whispered them to herself and felt a specter of melancholy.
Was this foresight? Was she to meet her past in the Hookscratch or was she haunted by ghost of her own imagining? No matter one can rise to meet one’s destiny or one can be overtake in flight. Either way, there was no escaping what was already written in the Book of days so eyes open, she motioned to the boy carrying her belongings and wandered in.
The scent of wine and ale danced with a ...rosemary spiced stew and pipe weed from south of the Doven. A pleasant enough greeting. Doffing the wide brimmed hat that had held the sun at bay she looked about, letting her emerald green eyes adjust to the dimmer light.
Turning to the waif that trailed in her wake, carrying the balance of her possessions, “This will do.” she grinned and with a slight gesture of her fingers, flipped him a silver luna for his efforts. Some how he managed to transfer her bedroll to his off hand as he snatched the coin from the air and looked disappointingly as it lay in his palm. His look turned to a smile of approval as he noticed the weight and the cantrip that had made it look silver began to dissolve, leaving the promised gold safely in hand. Quickly he made it disappear as skillfully as any prestidigitator. As he set her bags on the wooden floor next to an empty table, he tugged his forelock and bowed. “Anytime Miss and if you need, jus’ ask for Galin the Bray. I be at your service.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” she answered as he took one more glance around, pausing to consider the bouncer for an extra half second before giving into wisdom and taking his leave.
(OOC) Prestidigitation again
Aebin, as usual, is up before anybody and already reading by the time people start coming in, giving nods of greeting and good mornings to the patrons.
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"One moment." The old man gets up and leaves through a doorway behind him for a few minutes, then returns with a folder and lays it on the desk. "Sign here." He indicates a ledger sitting on the desk. In it, Hal writes his name, Petalwood's name, and the date.
Before picking up the folder, Hal places two gold coins on the desk. "Anything you know about this guy that wouldn't be in here?"
The old man looks down at the coins. "Just that he's got strong magic. Scares some folks. Not the kind to be trifled with." He takes one coin and pushes the other back toward Hal. "But I ain't takin' two gold for that."
"Thanks." Hal takes the coin and the folder, finds a chair nearby, and sits down to read.
Half an hour of reading later, he notices a strange absence from the folder. That's odd... In the tax records, he notices that every year is marked as 'Paid'... but no amount has been filled in. The columns for the amount paid and his income are simply left blank. If this man has "strong magic," he could easily charm the tax collector every year and get out of paying. Hal smiles. I've got him. This was easier than I thought.
He returns the folder to the desk and leaves. He dare not say anything to the clerk-- he'd lose his leverage if the city got involved. He returns to the inn, thanking the gods the stalker doesn't seem to have found him again, goes to his room, and writes a note.
Caid Petalwood - tax evasion
He folds it up and takes it to Miss Crimson. "If I don't return tonight... read this. It'll tell you why." Without another word, he leaves to find the Petalwood mansion.
Aebin greets Jezalane in the same manner as everyone else, it seems, and the first member of the staff to actually show an interest in the travelling minstrel is the sleek black tabby that lingers by the door.
Hallowid stares at the newcomer intelligently, and then moves to greet her, marking her legs and leading her to the bar counter.
Ms. Crimson is all over the place, as her wait staff is out during today's lunch rush. Thankfully, she is able to net a non-paying employee into temping with Aebin's help, but it is still a chaotic day.
Jezalane will have to be assertive if she wishes to get the attention of the innkeeper right away, but the bouncer clearly sees her. Just not as a threat. Especially when compared to the lunch patron who just came in with a bastard sword taller than she, and an overcoat that reads "Sundering Spines since AR 4172".
Assuming she assumes the position of a customer, the orange-haired innkeeper with impeccable posture approaches her with a stein of the ale on-tap and looks a her expectantly.
"Today we have a squash-based roast and grilled fish available. The meal is 2 silver pieces if you just want the food and to be on your way. A gold piece will give you unlimited portions and as many ales as you wish. Additionally, that gives you access to the live entertainment booked tonight."
She furrows her brow for a moment. "Though that last bit, I'll admit, is up in the air until our resident bard makes it in here safely."
As the dagger moves away from her throat, Cyrielle bounces up and throws herself at her old friend. "Ricie! I've come to rescue you! There's a werewolf outside, and I fought it off, and you can sleep on the floor, and oh, I got a job at an inn, I would have told you but I got distracted and we can share a room and-" She stops for a moment, remembering her talk with Ms. Crimson. "Well, maybe not share a room, but you could stay at the inn and you'd be safe from the werewolf and I wouldn't have to save you anymore."
[dice="Ricie" Sense Motive]1d20+8[/dice]
"Now, hold on, girl. You probably ran afoul of Ferir's mutt. Snooping 'round here, that's most likely. We're more than capable of fighting our own battles without little 'heroes' like you runnin' 'round. Come on, I'll walk you back to your inn and we can catch up somewhere safe. Boys, keep an eye out. If this hideout is so easy to find Cyrie can do it, we'll need to relocate."
On their walk back to the Hookscratch, Cyrielle and "Ricie" catch up on what they've both been doing. He split off from the little gang he'd been a lookout for, and he's been running a really small operation out of the old building she'd stumbled into. Nevertheless, her leg is starting to ache by the time they arrive at the Hookscratch, and blood is seeping through her rough binding.
The door to the Hookscratch opens at around four in the afternoon, and Cyrielle stumbles in. Her left pant-leg is ripped off at mid-thigh and wrapped around her leg, though the cloth is red and brown with blood, and her clothes are filthy. She starts staggering toward her room, mumbling "I think I need a bath...and a proper bandage if anyone's got it. Being an adult is hard work."
Aebin stands up quickly when the injured Cyrielle steps in. He immediately peers out the window to sweep the streets, then growls and glances around the room, daring anybody to get within ten feet of the kitsune. He kneels down next to her, a mixed look of concern and anger on his face. "Who did this to you?"
Cyrielle is preparing to lie to everyone about something.
"No, no, the boss-lady doesn't need to be involved. I was out in the Coins district because today's my day off, or at least, I thought it was. Anyways, I was out there and I must've taken a wrong turn somewhere because I ended up behind a fence with a big, nasty dog. It bit me, so I ran away and hobbled back here. There wasn't anyone else involved, I swear." Cyrielle keeps hobbling toward her room.
It is afternoon by the time Cyrielle and Hallidan get back, though the latter only enters briefly with his note long enough to see the barmaid limp in.
Ms. Crimson furrows her brow at Hallidan's closed note. She closes her eyes and considers something during a brief lull, opening them only at Aebin's loud exclamation.
Her cat, for once, is not in Cyrielle's proximity, choosing instead to see to Jezalane. This means she must investigate for herself.
Thus, she approaches Aebin and the young kitsune, moving to intercept the latter as she tries to return to her room.
She looks down at her youngest employee with a stern expression that conveys she isn't to continue on her way just yet.
"You cannot return in this state and expect to escape me so easily. It is enough, my dear, that Master Hallidan is always coming back from his double-life bloodied. If you have the option to ask for help, make askance."
She prods the barmaid's forehead.
Aebin gives her a long stare with his piercing eyes. "The chances of me patching you up are worse than you beating me in arm wrestling. Mr.Crimson can heal you."
Once healed, Aebin gives Cyrielle a hard stare, but then ruffles her hair with a sigh. "You worry me sometimes. We can talk about this after work."
Reaching down to scratch the cat Jezalane looks around. It's clear that today isn't a day for maximum efficiency at the Hookscratch. Even so it's much ad she remembered it. She nods at the bouncer and after carefully negotiating her way around the cat makes her way to a table near the window.
After a minute or so it becomes clear that the patroness is very busy Laying her Lute case on the table and making sure the balance of equipment (including her harp) is safely stowed under the table of her choice she saunters over to the bar and gestures to the Red Head.
The orange-haired innkeeper with impeccable posture approaches her with a stein of the ale on-tap and looks a her expectantly.
"Today we have a squash-based roast and grilled fish available. The meal is 2 silver pieces if you just want the food and to be on your way. A gold piece will give you unlimited portions and as many ales as you wish. Additionally, that gives you access to the live entertainment booked tonight."
Jezalane takes the beer stein and takes a pull at at. Rich with the flavors of barley and summer, perfect for washing the the taste of the cities streets from her throat.
furrowing her brow for a moment, the Innkeeper continues. "Though that last bit, I'll admit, is up in the air until our resident bard makes it in here safely."
Pulling a golden royal from her pouch, she slides it across to the innkeeper. "Thank you, that's truly a fair greeting for a traveler. I think I'd like to sample the fish with perhaps a health portion of vegetables and some black bread." She takes another sip and continues. I also was wonder if you have a room available. Actually I was here some years ago and there was a little room on the top floor that had a stupendous view of the Blue Spire of Desna.
"As far as tonight goes, while I'm sure I'm not the showman your house entertainer is, I am a trained bard and if you wish I could amuse your guest until he gets back."
With that she reconsiders the room and it's occupants as a perspective audience. Grinning to herself she decides this could be fun.
Ms. Crimson's poke and the rush of healing it provides do not comfort Cyrielle. "But miss, I had to go, and you'd already told Davi she could, and I knew you'd say to wait a day so you wouldn't be understaffed, but I thought my friend was in trouble and I had to try to help." Tears start to roll down Cyrielle's cheeks and she looks away from Ms. Crimson first, then from Aebin as his eyes seem to pierce into her. "Besides, you wouldn't even like my friend. He's from...before here." She tries to move past the two older people.
Aebin lets her past, not wanting to make anymore of a scene. They can always talk about it in private later.
"An order of fish, greens, and bread coming up, then... As for the top floor, it's been converted to a common room, but there's a room with a decent view on the second."
She thinks for a moment on the other offer, tapping a finger on her palm as if keeping track of something in her head.
"You are welcome to stay as a back-up performer... perhaps as an accompanist, if you can convince Hallidan. If you intend to do that, though, you'll need to stay on for a couple of weeks in a probationary sense, and I'll need you to sign a contract at the end of that time."
Leaving the bard to think on it, Ms. Crimson returns with food.
"You misunderstand, Cyrielle. I am not judging you for missing work for a day. I'm chastising you for possibly missing work for the rest of a nonexistent life, snuffed out in an instant because you were too afraid to ask for help."
She pulls out a hand to stop the barmaid from advancing.
"I will not interfere in your life, but I will take precautions as long as you are in my employ...,"
She presses her palm into the kitsune's shoulder, and the girl feels a little tickling sensation.
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"Grain for the kitchen," he tells a man who's clearly low on the Petalwood hierarchy. Dressed in simple garb and sweating with exertion, the man turns around to hold open the door he'd just come out of. Hal thanks him and slips inside, grateful that he'd left his hat at the inn. Would've looked quite out of place among the servants. Once out of sight, he wills his enchanted chain-mail to resemble what that man had been wearing.
The servant's side of the place is about what he had expected; unpolished, but sturdy and spacious. Locating the kitchen is easy enough, and he deposits the grain and goes looking for the master of the house. He had learned long ago that if one pretends to belong somewhere and have a purpose, people are less likely to ask questions. This tactic works splendidly well in the mansion, as servants of various dress codes bustle about doing various tasks. Hal receives a few second glances, but no questions and no accosts.
Walking along one of the large hallways, a woman opens a door to his right. She has dark hair and appears to be in her early forties. Her outfit is regal-looking but her clothes and hair are slightly disheveled. Hal had seen too many women, and a few men, leave his own room in such a state not to know exactly what had just occurred on the other side of that door. The woman looks down her nose at Hal and walks in the other direction. She looks familiar somehow. Unable to put a name to the face, he figures she had once shared his bed. Hal opens the door she had just left and walks in.
This room is clearly the mansion's study, a spacious and immaculately clean room full of books, ledgers, and parchment. Sitting at the large desk is a man Hal knows must be Caid, from a portrait hung in the hall. The man looks up from his desk, and his eyes widen. "You... how... " Caid throws one hand forward in a grasping motion and barks a short incantation.
Hal's body freezes in place. Unable to move, unable even to speak, Hal can only watch helplessly as Caid gets up from his chair. "So. Hallidan Regg. You've survived my stalker. I knew that, of course, it told me. But now you come here? To do what, let me finish the job? You're going to die for taking my wife from me."
Concentrating all his willpower, Hal forces himself to overcome the effects of the spell. Caid raises his hand again. "You'll want to listen to me first," Hal says quickly.
Caid lowers his hand. "You've got two minutes."
"First, I didn't take your wife. She came to me. We spent a night together, and she left. That was it. I haven't seen her since, and I don't really intend to. That woman who just left here, did you 'take' her?"
Clearly, that was something Caid did not expect. "I... no, we..."
"Second," Hal interrupts, before the man can do anything else, "I know your secret. I've written it down and given it to a friend of mine, who has been instructed to open it if I don't return. You're going to let me walk out of here, call off your stalker, and never bother me again. Or I'll spread the word."
The man lowers his hand, defeated. "I... I didn't know you'd..."
"Looked up the public records? Of course I did. They're public. By the look of this place, I'm guessing you owe thousands of gold in unpaid taxes."
Caid's confused expression melts into mirthless laughter. "You fool. Taxes? The mayor is... a close personal friend of mine. Taxes. With the right friends, you ignorant mummer, you don't need to worry about taxes."
Hal's heart sinks like a stone. But... but... "You... still, you wouldn't want that information to go public, because..."
Caid smiles. "Go ahead. Tell your friend to spread the word. The 'mistake' in the record will be fixed, the mayor will make some formal apology, blame it on tax-collector corruption and fire someone. Life will go on as usual. And you'll be dead. Goodbye, Hallidan Regg." He speaks another incantation and a pit opens beneath Hal's feet. He plunges at least fifty feet into darkness; the only light comes from the opening above his head. Then, the walls of the pit begin to close.
How could I have been so foolish? He scrapes at the walls of the pit, but they're far too slick to climb out of. The mayor, a friend of his... He could picture her now, giving some speech exonerating Caid and insisting to the public that he had, in fact, paid his taxes in full... her dark hair framing her face...
Then it comes to him. That was her. "Wait! Wait! That was her! That was the mayor just in here! She and you..." He laughs. "She and you really are close, aren't you?
"Very good," Caid's voice calls from above. "But it won't save you now."
Hal's mind races. "But didn't you hear me? I used a sending, my friend already knows. That's a scandal you ought... to keep hidden..." The walls of the pit are by now so close to Hal that he can feel the squeeze, and it's a struggle just to breathe.
The walls stop closing. "You're lying. I didn't hear any sending."
"Actually, you did. Just now. You aren't... the only one... with tricks." Hal weaves magic into his words, so that without the need for an incantation a ghostly, faceless figure made entirely of light appears next to Caid. The man isn't the least bit threatened by what he recognizes immediately as a minor spell, but Hal expected nothing less; his story is now believable.
Clearly, Caid comes to the same conclusion and releases his pit spell, which rises to floor-level and disappears. "Fine," he says through gritted teeth. "I'll call off my stalker. Go, and don't let me ever see you again."
Hal returns to the inn in one piece, whistling a tune. His problems from the previous day are now over.
As she feels the tickling sensation on her shoulder, Cyrielle pulls away from Ms. Crimson and steels herself to resist the effect. It's no use, however, and the tickling becomes an itching sensation centered on her right shoulder. She manages to make it to her room before shifting into her fox-form and scratching wildly at it, then inspecting it in the mirror. A blue hook now covers her entire right shoulder from the spine to the arm.
All through her bath, she tries in vain to get rid of the scar, but to no avail. Eventually, she gets out, changes into the outfit that best conceals her shoulders, and begins tending to the customers. Occasionally, she shoots a glare at Ms. Crimson when she thinks she's not watching. I wonder where Davi is, I really need to talk to her.
Evening comes, and with it the return of Davi and Hallidan; both of whom seem none the worse for their adventures. The former does not enter alone or unburdened.
Davi enters the inn with a weary sigh of relief. A small halfling girl rides piggyback on Davi, leaning across her head like a strange hat. Another child is asleep in Davi's arms. A weary pair of halflings, obviously the children's parent's, follow in Davi's wake with an older boy.
The party snakes it's way through the inn to Aebin's corner. "Hey Aebin, do you know where Ms. Crimson is?" Davi asks in a tired voice. Right on top of her question the halfling girl says "You gots real big teeth! Do you eat monsters?
"Hush Lissa!" Her mother scolds. The woman apologizes "Sorry sir, it's been a long day"
"Think she went into the back last time I saw her." Aebin looks down at the halfling girl, then growls and bares his teeth. "That's right, so you just tell me if a monster bothers you and I'll gobble it right up!" He chuckles and leans back. "You should take a load off than, we have good food and great ale here, and open rooms as well."
The girl grins at Aebin "Neat! What about little brothers?" Her mother makes an outraged sound. "Lissa Mavis Hawthorne, you apologize right now." "But Moooom! He pulls my hair!" Davi makes a chortling noise. "Mmm, yes, thank you Aebin. I'll get them set up with food. Hey gang, who's hungry?" Davi takes the group to a table. Aebin can faintly hear Lissa' mother going "-raised you better than that, I know I did. Why if your grandmother-" as the family gets situated.
Davi's quick to bring out food and drink for the group. The family eats with relish, and Davi brings them second helpings while she fills some other orders. Finally there's a lull in the tavern and Davi slips into the back.
"Ms. Crimson, are you back here?" Davi calls out
A rather average man step out from the large kitchen doors. He is a shade over five-and-a-half feet tall, with a graying beard and hair to match. Wrinkles are abundant under his eyes, and over his face in general. He wears a kitchen apron, and holds a butcher's knife in one hand, as he wipes the sweat from his brow.
He walks up to the Boss Lady, an in a gruff voice, I leave for one week. ONE WEEK, and the kitchen goes all to hell. I visit the folks, like I have done for the past three years, their headstones deserve some company as well ya' know. I worked hard to make the kitchen a better place, and I will be damned should it fall apart when I am gone
A few moments pass, and he turns around, and goes back to work in the very kitchen he takes so much pride in.
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Vincent hears the commotion going on out in the tavern. He pokes his head through the window counter. He shrugs as he has no business in getting involved with other people affairs.
He looks to Davi, hey girl, try to have them slow down. The more they eat, the more they will possibly tip ya. At least that is how it was back in the day ya' know
Jezalane took the room and settled in to see if the Inn's "entertainer" showed. Listening to the gathering regulars she learned that he was held in high regard both as a musician and as a performer. She also gathered that the was quite the lothario with a different beauty every night.
When they entered, she noticed the Brunet with the halfling family in tow and wondered what the story was. She'd learn sooner rather than later but she'd prefer sooner, she always did.
She grinned as she watched the little girls reaction to the bouncer. She liked children, they were the heart of honesty.
When Hal entered, it was obvious by the reaction of the patrons. He also had that swagger, the one every satyr had when he was feeling self satisfied. The confidence that made him even more attractive.
Her course of action was clear. She waved the waitress over and asked her to invite Master Regg to join her for a drink.
With Davi now talking to Ms. Crimson in back, Cyrielle is manning the bar alone. Her shoulder still itches, and she's distracted for a moment by it. Finally, she notices Jezalane's waving hand and scurries over. "What can I get-Master Regg? Oh, you mean Hal! Of course I'll get him, he likes making new friends. Just one moment."
Cyrielle makes her way through the patrons to Hal, handing out a few ales on the way and collecting coins left on tables. "Hey Hal, that white-haired lady over there said she wanted to buy you a drink, or something." She walks away before the bard can ask too many questions, still scratching her shoulder.
Noticing the lull in customers, she heads to the back for a quick moment to pull on Davi's sleeve. Pssst! Davi, I need to talk to you later. Can't do it now, the Inn could get busy at any moment and I need to watch the front, but come find me after we close up. Please." Her messages delivered, she heads into the common room again and resumes being a barmaid.
With that, you know quite a bit about Hall before you even saw him, including his race, approximate age, etc. :3 Not that it matters, now. Nice use of flavor.
"Your associate can't have made that much of a mess, though I do have to wonder why my grocery stock diminished so quickly..."
Ms. Crimson said by way of greeting, biting her lip to keep from smiling at the man's annual tantrum.
Vincent's "associate" had clearly been trying to keep up the slack in the inn, but had managed to butcher at least two evening meals and clumsily hid the charred evidence next to a cupboard until it could eat it.
Davi doesn't hear a response right away, but it doesn't take long to find Ms. Crimson in her quarters. She swears that she sees someone else in the room with her boss momentarily, a fleeting glimpse of something odd that reminds her of the tentacle incident the day before. Another glance finds the innkeeper standing alone, a looking glass clasped in her hands.
"Davi." she acknowledges, sounding a little winded. "I see you have returned. I assume your errand was a success?"
Look Ms. Crimson, I never said I needed an assistant. You forced him on me, remember. I can run this kitchen just fine.
He looks around and leans in to whisper in her ear, just don't tell the poor kid that. He has some potential, but he is still very wet behind the ears so-to-speak
So, what can I get you Miss?
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"Did she, now?" He raises an eyebrow and looks at the woman Cyrielle indicated. Maybe my reputation precedes me. As a rule, he doesn't approach customers-- Ms. Crimson's rule, to be precise. His little trysts with patrons tend to turn said patrons off to the idea of returning. But an agreement was made between the two of them; as long as Hal doesn't initiate the contact, he's free to do as he pleases with anyone who expresses an interest. This rule meant more nights alone than he would have liked, but it seemed a small price to pay for a steady gig.
Unusual, he thinks as he makes his way over, to be approached before I even start playing. This woman, while not exactly old, is certainly older than Hal. "Well hello there, Mrs. Daily" he says to Jezalene with a smile, sitting down at her table. "Name's Hal."
"Yes m'am. The supplies were a big help. The local temple of Sarenrae wanted me to give you their personal thanks." Davi folds her hands together. "I've also brought back one family, the Hawthornes. They have three children and are destitute now." Davi shakes her head. Her eyes meet Ms. Crimson's; they're full of emotion. "I didn't realize how bad Precipice would be. The Hawthornes are good people. The father, Guln, he's offering to do general handiwork for a place to stay. They don't mind sharing a room-"
Cyrielle chooses this moment to come in. Davi nods as the kitsune makes her request. "Alright little one, I'll find you after we close. Promise.
Turning back to Ms Crimson, Davi gives a small shrug. "If need be I can help pay for their room out of my wages. Just until they get themselves set up. They're a good bunch, they'll be back on their feet in no time."
Ms. Crimson is not made entirely of stone. She reflects some of Davi's happiness at being able to help. It is simply muted by whatever it is that managed to tire the innkeeper out.
She waves a hand out dismissively before she hears anything about Davi giving up wages.
"I am not too worried about paying to keep them here for a couple of months, if that is what it takes. We have other ways of making a living here, as you well know, Davi. And I don't have any doubts about your judgement of character... Just be sure they know to keep out of the sub-basement, yes? For everyone's sake."
She thinks for a moment before saying the number twelve.
"The Hawthornes can stay in room twelve, certainly. Between the two queen beds and the fact their linen cupboard is overstocked, that should do."
The woman covers the looking glass in her hands with the end of her shirt, stashing it in an upper drawer of her darkwood dresser.
"If Guln truly wishes to work for a wage, I can employ him temporarily to work on all the common room tables and chairs. That ought to keep his coffers full for a month, at least, at the going rate here."
There is the subtext here that the staff at the Hookscratch make a killing, and this is a well-guarded secret. Aside from whatever is in the basement, that is probably the primary reason that Ms. Crimson didn't want every family from the disaster under her roof. It would drive prices up in the area considerably.
"I jest not about the sub-basement, though. It is dangerous and young children are especially fond of trying to break in. You know this. If I am to ask anything of you, specifically, it is that you find them something to occupy their idle time."
When Cyrielle comes in and just as abruptly leaves, Ms. Crimson averts her eyes from the kitsune.
"Before you go back to see her, you should know I marked her today. She came back bloodied, and so it seemed like a decent way to ensure her safety. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth, nonetheless. I will not pry into her double-life, but she trusts you... See that she hears a sensible opinion on whatever it is she's up to, please."
"If you are able to get the kitchen back up to speed with some sort of meat dish, that should suffice." With a conspiratorial look to the left, she also mentions something about sweet dumplings, her face's redness indicating that this is a personal request.
I will see what I can do for ya
Vincent heads back to the kitchen. Those in the dining hall, can hear him yelling at his assistant. Dammit Alden, where did all my spices go? How am I supposed to cook, when I have no idea where things are?
Sorry, sorry sir...I...I
Enough, I need to reassess things
Vincent spends the next 15 minutes, reorganizing and rearranging the kitchen. The pantry gets an overhaul as well as the cold cooler.
About 35 minutes after Ms/ Crimson places her order, Vincent calls over to the only barmaid he sees.
Hey, lass. Cyrielle, get over here. Take this plate to Ms. Crimson, it is her lunch order. And try not to eat any of the sweets this time, he gives her a wink as she takes the plate.
She reminds me of Morganna, when I was younger. She was a sweet kid, tried her darnedest. All she needed was some confidence, Cyrielle has potential
On the plate is a bowl of beef stew, a little under-seasoned with carrots, onions, and potatoes. In a tin next to the bowl, there are three dumplings. They are about the size of a gold coin, drizzled with fresh berries. They are a little doughy, having been gone a week, his cooking skills are a little rusty.
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Vincent is getting bombarded with a large order, out of morbid curiosity he pokes his head to see where they are going. When Davi comes back with another order,
Hey kid, Davi right, Vincent's mind isn't what it used to be. What's with the family there, why all the food? They gonna tip you well I hope?
"Yes, Davi, that's right. You mean table 8 right? Sad story, they just lost their home. Another tenement in Precipice went into the sea. Ms. Crimson's letting them stay till they get back on their feet." She winks at Vincent "No tip, but the kids tell me I'm one deed away from joining their super secret club. What's coin compared to that right? She chuckles
Davi nods when Ms. Crimson mentions the sub-basement. "Yes m'am, that's been my one worry. I'm telling them it's a sealed entrance to the sewer that must stay shut lest we flood the inn with sewage." A wicked grin lights up her face "I think that the threat of gross waste pouring in would deter anyone."
Davi leans against the wall. She rubs her face as she thinks. "The kit hurt herself? Oh dear. That one is determined that the world see her as a big adult. I'll see what I can do. Maybe I can enlist her help in watching the Hawthorne's children...less time for her to get into mischief."
"Well, that dining room won't serve itself. I better get back." Davi pushes herself off the wall and starts walking. Midway through the room she stops and looks back at Ms. Crimson. Quick as a wink Davi moves in, hugs Ms. Crimson, and hustles out the door.
Back in the inn Davi happily escorts the halflings to room 12. She explains the basics of the inn as the group gets themselves settled "Ok. Number one. You see anyone causing trouble or any monsters and you let Aebin know. He'll take care of it. Number two, if you want any food ask me or the other barmaid Cyrielle. You can ask the cook, Vincent as well but be warned, he might be grouchy. Don't ever steal food from the kitchen, Vincent always knows and then you get the angry grouchy lecture of death. Number three, the sub-basement is off limits. There's some serious issue with the sewer down there, you open the wrong door and it's sewage everywhere. Nobody wants to clean that so no touching please. Number four, if Hal's door is closed you always, always knock first. Some sights can not be unseen. Number five...uh...actually I think that's it really. I can give you all a proper tour in the morning. Guln, we'll get you set up mending some chairs Aebin had to ah, break. We can also stop by the market, pick up a few necessities"
A round of hugs follows Davi's speech. She makes her way out of the room just as Rilla starts telling a bedtime story. A wistful look crosses Davi's face. How long has it been since I've been home. 4 years? 5? I need to write mom and dad Davi pauses on the stairs. Taking a few deep breaths she gets herself in order before returning to the common room. There she is all smiles and helpfulness as she waits tables.
"Fine. I guess she's gotta eat too." Cyrielle glares at the food as she brings it to the back, but she doesn't eat any of the dumplings. Instead, she knocks on Ms. Crimson's door and goes in, depositing the plate on the boss-lady's desk and leaving without a word, but with a quick scratch of her shoulder.
Outside, she concentrates hard on delivering drinks and waiting tables, but she still doesn't see any heroic adventurers, and after her brush with the dog that morning and her brush with Ms. Crimson that afternoon, her heart just isn't in it. Besides, the wound may have been magically stitched up, but she's still affecting the limp, and she spills just a tiny bit of beer, maybe a couple of times. She does try to keep an eye on Davi, hoping for a chance to talk to her when Hal's performance for the night starts.
Jezalane looked up and smiled. "A pleasure to meet you. Please join me for and ail or whatever beverage you prefer." Looking him up and down she continues "There is much said of you in certain quarters. They say you are a man of ..." She pauses in search of the right word. "Of exceptional skill and ability."