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"The very best kind." She grins.
Raising her mug in a salute she continued. "The names Jezalane and I wanted to offer you my services. You see I've just arrived with the tide on the Mocking Fool. I've been working my way here from Greengold where I was studying with Brolentae Halfhanded. He suggested that I come here for a couple of years to hone my skills so... I thought I would offer you my services if you need accompaniment or someone to sing duets with."
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Oh. Well, I can work with this. "Hmmm. Never had a second-in-command before." He shrugs. "Okay, you've got yourself a backup gig. We'll split each night's take three," he points his thumb toward himself, "to one." He points his index finger at Jezalene. "It's not what you might call a lucrative life here, but you do all right."
It's a decent night for Davi. She's tried but she manages to keep up with her orders. Yawning a bit, she takes her break with a mug of coffee. It shouldn't be long until Hal's performance starts.
After delivering fresh mugs of beer to Hal and Jezalane, Cyrielle looks over the common room. no-one seems to be in need of her help, so she slides behind the bar's counter and sits next to Davi. She absent-mindedly rubs at her shoulder, feeling the slightly-raised bump of the hook.
"Davi, you're not very strong, are you? I mean, not like Unc' Aebin. How do you keep yourself safe when you go to places like the Precipice? Ms. Crimson doesn't trust me anymore, and I'll never be strong like Aebin, but I still want to learn how to fight. I got attacked by a dog yesterday while I was out in the Coins, and it hurt! See?" Cyrielle shows the fading bite marks on her lower thigh, just above the knee. They look like they're three weeks old thanks to Ms. Crimson's magic. "I tried to shoot it with my crossbow, but I missed and it was too fast. I had to run and hide. It's not fair. Hal's always coming in bloody, and Ms. Crimson's never marked him. Maybe you could teach me how to fight your way? Then maybe the boss-lady will see she's wrong, and she can trust me." Cyrielle fidgets nervously.
"No, I'm not strong like Aebin, but I'm fast, confident, and agile. Strength alone does not make a good fighter." She runs her fingers lightly over the bite marks on Cyrielle "Ouch, looks like it got you good. You did well to run and hide from it. Knowing when to retreat is always important."
She drums her claws on the counter as she thinks. "I don't think Ms. Crimson marked you because she doesn't trust you. I think it's because you're the least trained out of all of us, and she cares very much for you. She wants to keep you safe. And Hal, for all his swagger, is an accomplished bard; he's very good at taking care of himself. As much as I hate to admit it I think he'd beat me in a fair fight."
Now, I've never trained anyone before" Davi warns "But if you like you'll be my first. You just have to promise to listen to what I say. Deal?" Davi holds her hand out
While there is a break in service, Vincent steps out to the bar. He sees Cyrielle and Davi sitting and talking. He pops a squat on a bar stool no where near their conversation. He has a small glass of ale, just something to "wet the whistle".
A few minutes later, his help, Alden comes out in a slight panic.
Boss, boss, there's an issue with the stew for dinner. I...I...I knocked over some spices into the pot.
Alden, I would have no luck if it weren't for the bad luck. I should smack you upside the head, he says in an exasperated tone.
Vincent rushes into the kitchen, and tastes the stew. He can detect a strong taste of pepper...his nose wrinkles at it. He thinks about how to salvage the stew, without having to start from scratch. He then gets an idea, add more vegetables. He grabs a couple extra tomatoes and carrots, gives them a rough chop and throws them into teh stew, hoping to absorb some of the pepper taste.
Cyrielle ignores the hand, instead wrapping herself around Davi's waist in a big bear hug. "Thankyousomuch! When the dog attacked me I was so scared, and I don't want Ms. Crimson to need to mark me, and do I need to buy a sword? All I have are some daggers, but I have a little bit of money I saved from working. Do you really think it's that she worries? I think it's she doesn't trust me. Oh, I've been stealing the potpourri every day, it smells really nice and she's got different scents and I keep them in my chest in my room. Don't tell her, please? Can we start tomorrow? Maybe there'll be space somewhere then." She continues to ramble on for a moment or two, eventually subsiding into quiet. I guess I won't have to go to Hal for help if Davi teaches me. Probably for the best; I'll never have a great voice, either.
Jezalane grinned and took a pull at her ale. "That's more than generous. Very magnanimous considering you've never heard me play or sing. It's even more than I could hope for if I was a hack or an apprentice.
She paused for a second and the set her ale back on the table. "But I'm neither of those things."
"I'll tell you what. I don't want to quibble and it's we're both looking at a pig-in-a-poke here. So I'll accept your terms for a week and at the end of that period we renegotiate. In the mean time, if at any time you wish, you can cancel this agreement and I won't complain. I'll even agree that if that is the case I'll neither sing nor play in the Hookscratch without your asking me to."
"Does that sound fair?"
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"Well as it happens, I'm familiar with the Mocking Fool. That you're here at all means they didn't toss you overboard, which I'm told is popular entertainment for the crew when they don't have a use for someone. So you must've kept them happy... at least, if you're telling the truth." He shrugs again. "And call it a-- gesture of good faith. I'm often way too trusting, I know, it's a fault of mine. 'Specially of lovely ladies like yourself." He gives her a wink.
Davi laughs. One hand strokes Cyrielle's hair "So you're the potpourri thief eh? I won't say anything. And yes, we can start tomorrow. Daggers are fine; I started learning with Daggers. Eventually you'll want a longer blade but that's down the road." Davi pats her on the back "And I promise Ms. Crimson just worries is all. Now lets take a minute and get back out there, eh? You wouldn't want to miss Hall's performance."
"Oddly enough that's what Captain Porter said when he decided I didn't need to swim home." She joked.
Raising her mug to Hal she smiled. "To Music!
"Okay, tomorrow it is. Where should we meet? The stables might have enough room, maybe." Cyrielle looks doubtfully in their direction. "Ooh, is Hal about to play?"
Vincent hears the name Hal, he knows that his performances draw a crowd more than not. He enjoys the dinner rush, good for business.
He finishes his drink, then turns to Cyrille and Davi, look alive gals, Hal draws a crowd so you better be on your best for the orders that come in.
Vincent, then turns to go back into the kitchen. He tells Alden to help him prep some food, for the upcoming rush. The orders come in at lightning speed; drinks, food, more food then more drinks. Vincent is do his best tonight. The time it takes for the food to come out of the kitchen is amazing, Cyrielle and Davi are moving just as fast as Vincent it seems like.
"Oh Gods above and below!" Jezalane exclaimed. "I don't know what I'd do if I got so lucky!"
Pushing her ale away, enough of that for now she thought. "What's the plan for tonight and how can I make you more brilliant? I'm well versed in poetry, singing, the lute, the harp and the fiddle. I'm a fair hand with a flute but it's my weakest instrument so far. Set our course captain and I'll trim our sails."
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Hal decides to ignore the sarcasm. "Well, some nights boss-lady has a specific theme she wants for the show. So far, I haven't gotten one for tonight. If there isn't one, I'll just throw a few songs together and hope for patron requests. For tonight, you'll just be doing backup instruments-- if you know the song, great, if you don't, just follow my lead."
"As you wish." Jezalane smiled as she reached down and lifted her Lute case onto the table. With deliberate focus she opens undid one clasp after another. Finally she opened it up to reveal a two necked lute with a Cherry back. The necks were ivory with a bright silver frets and keys. Each held 12 strings in 6 courses, divided by register that ran across the spruce soundboard distinguished with three roses, Two in floral designs and the larger, central pattern was a a non geometric lunar motif of an elvish style.
"This is Kuuru Usu. (Elvish for Rose of the Moon) she whipered with an endearment most women save for their children of lovers. "She was crafted for me by Dulcinar of Harifor. Unless you need the full range of the harp I'll stick to her. Let me know if you want fiddle or flute and I'll get them ready." With that she began to tune her instrument.
Jezalane listened to Hal as he began to perform. He was a good singer and played his lute with a great deal of skill. As he moved into his first number she adjusted the tuning of Kuuru Usu to harmonize with his. On the next number she started softly, gently rolling her music in behind his, giving it deeper depth and more complexity. As the evening rolled on she let the performance take her over and slowly increased the degree to which her participation without in anyway overwhelming or diminishing Hal's performance. This was his stage and she was just backing him up.
As she played, she looked around the room, taking in the audience; who were they, where were they from. What did they respond to, what were they looking for. Where she could she tried to slip little resonances into here chorus that might appeal to them. When Hal Played "The Ale Ran til Dawn" She added the cadence similar to "Durin's Drunken Reel" to appeal to the two Dwarvish bodyguards that were sitting by the bar. When she saw one of the mud covered boots start tapping, she knew she had judged it right.
Recognizing the Varisian tattoos on the arms of a couple of sailors who requested "Across the Sea and Shore" she backed him up with the themes of "Amarana's Defense" which had been referred to as "the only song Varisian know by heart" because of it's the number of variations that were sung in the Varisian gulf.
When Hal played "Myrimor Marched Away" she saw a look of sorrow misting over the eyes of an very elegant looking older woman as she fingered a ring she wore on a silver chain about her neck. Her features were cheliaxian so Jezalane took a risk. She backed Hal up with the passages from "Sharardin and Esthara", an cheliaxian opera about Sharardin, a knight who was thought to have died in the Battle of a Hundred Kings and Esthara, his betrothed's struggle to stay virtuous in the aftermath of his apparent demise.
In the end after many struggle, Sharardin returned and the couple was united.
Hal gave her a look when she started to do this and she drew his attention to the women. When they were done, the woman was teary eyed but smiling and when the hat was passed by her, Hal caught the glint of a number of gold coins being tossed in.
(Two higher if you're allowing Hal to aid in my roll)
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"Goooood evening everyone, and welcome to another night at the Hookscratch! I'm Hallidan Regg, and I'll be your entertainment for the evening. Joining me tonight is the lovely and," he pauses to give Jezalene a wink, "hopefully talented Jezalene! Let's kick things off with an old favorite." He starts playing the opening chords. Judging from Jezalene's quiet background playing during the first song, Hal guesses she's unfamiliar with this one and simply following his lead. Well she's a fair hand at that, at least, he thinks with some satisfaction. Starting into the first lines of "Blame the Salamanders", he can't help but smile. It's a cute little song, and one of Cyrielle's favorites.
I grew up on a quiet little street,
Got pretty lucky, when I chanced to meet
A cute young redhead dame
And anytime a problem came around
I never will forget the way she found
A place to put the blame
She'd say...
"I just blame the salamanders,
Salamanders, salamanders,
I just blame the salamanders,
They're not nothin' good!"
I asked her, "What'd they ever do to you?
Can't other things be problem-causers, too?"
She shrugged and gave a smile
"Some people blame the gods; some blame themselves
Some blame the orcs, the dwarves, the gnomes, the elves
But that's just not my style
"Instead...
"I just blame the salamanders,
Salamanders, salamanders,
I just blame the salamanders,
They're not nothin' good!"
We grew up, married, had kids, settled down
And anytime a problem came around,
She never blamed a soul
And on the day she died, some blamed disease
Some blamed the gods, some blamed the autumn breeze
One even blamed the trolls
But as for me...
I just blame the salamanders,
Salamanders, salamanders,
I just blame the salamanders,
They're not nothin' good!
As the evening wears on, he notices Jezalene get noticeably more confident on the stage. I might just have to keep this one.
Cyrielle stops serving to listen to her favorite song, and by the time she remembers her job, the two bards are almost done with their set. When they finish, she gives Hal a big hug, just like Davi's, before yawning several times. She's able to stay awake long enough to help with the clean-up, but then it's off to under her bed to get a good night's sleep.
The night draws on, but with the performance out of the way, the guests file out into the streets and purchase rooms.
There is, oddly enough, an extra room that surprises Davi, Vincent, Cyri, and Hall as they move into the servants quarters initially until they remember it's been there all along.
It's small, but there is a fluffy, blue-sheeted bed, two dressers, and a small bookshelf. A footlocker sits at the foot of the bed itself, and a small window in an upper corner lets the moonlight in.
There is an odd painting on the wall, however. It's just a couple of splashes of paint and the words "truth is relative".
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Sleeping brings about vivid dreams tonight, and they are quite lucid. Most of them involve visions of the night sky.
?-?-?-?
The next morning dawns yet again, though today Vincent knows that there will be a grocery delivery cart coming in.
Waking up, Cyrielle feels a lot warmer than usual. At first, the darkness around her is pleasant, but after a few moments, it becomes oppressive and hot. She struggles to move, only to get tangled in the comforter on her bed. I slept IN my bed? Odd...
After struggling for a few more moments and falling out of the bed, she takes stock of her surroundings. A single gold coin, on her nightstand; a tangled mess of blankets. Still the same room, then. She glances at the ceiling, dreading, or perhaps hoping, to see stars and the night sky, and places the coin in her chest, along with the thirty-six others she's been saving.
For a few minutes, while she licks herself clean for the morning, she forgets about the blue scar on her shoulder and her lesson with Davi later that morning. While running a comb through her hair, she remembers, grabs her dagger, and rushes out into the common room. "Davi! DAVI! I'm not late, am I?"
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That was some fine playing, he thinks at the end of the night. This Jezalene certainly does know her stuff. He pats Cyrielle on the head at the little one's embrace. "Knew you'd like that, dearie." As she scampers off, he finds Davi. "Want some company tonight, love? Going back to a cold bed every night must get awful lonely..."
Davi hums along with the music as she works. The new bard's really good. I hope she sticks around.
Standing in front of the new room, Davi looks perplexed. One hand absently rubs her cheek as she thinks. I swear I've never seen this room before. This is...quite strange
Hal's arrival breaks her out of her thoughts. "You know, it DOES get lonely sometimes. Maybe I'll get a cat" She drawls. One side of her lips quirks up. Quickly she reaches out and pats Hal on the cheek. "Well done tonight. Best night yet" With that she skips down the hall to her room. "Goodnight Hal!" she calls over her shoulder before firmly shutting her door behind her.
When morning comes Davi washes up quickly before donning her armor. She gulps down a quick cup of coffee before Cyrielle arrives. Davi grins at the young Kitsune. "Nope, you're right on time. Let's hit the stables"
Davi puts the girl through a simple set of exercises; Davi does the moves right alongside her. The pair go through stretches and push ups before doing some sets of punches and kicks. Davi explains that the moves are designed to build flexibility and speed. "They can't hurt you if they can't hit you" she intones with the air of repetition. "If I had a gold piece for everytime my teacher told me that we could all retire on it." At the end of the lesson Davi praises Cyrielle, and then reminds her to be patient with Davi. "After all, I've never taught anyone before. Hmm. Maybe we could ask Aebin to show you some moves too. Goodness knows he's a capable fighter"
Vincent tidies everything up, and wishes the barmaids and hulking security man a good night.
Hey Cyrielle and Davi, come over here. This is for you two, for all the hard work.
He hands the two each a gold piece, for the effort of the night. Hal's performance always brings in more business. He than locks up everything then heads to bed. He sleeps well, but he has a nightmare and wakes up in a cold sweat. He rubs his leg, the crippled one. It may not hurt, but it's engrained in his psyche.
He wakes, an hour before dawn. He heads to the kitchen, expecting the cart at the usual time of right before daybreak. He passes by a room, I think that is new, or has it always been there. Eh, the painting makes no sense though. Better get to work, gotta lot of work today
Th cart is late and Vincent is cranky as usual.
Where the hell you been?! You always show before daybreak...the sun is already up. , laments a frustrated Vincent.
Geez, you're back already, I thought I had an extra day of relaxed cook, not your cranky ass Vincent, retorts the merchant.
Ya, ya, Pete. So, what ya got for me today?
Vincent and Pete discuss what is on the cart. Some fresh vegetables, fresh fruit. A few can of fresh milk from the dairy farm outside the city. Then comes the important part...the price. Vincent is told the cost for the goods he wants is gonna be 4 gold, Vincent tries to point out the quality and that he was late and counters with 2 gold and 7 silver. Pete simply laughs at Vincent's offer. Pete counters with 4 gold 3 silver. Vincent knows that haggling isn't going to go anywhere, so he settles on 4 gold as before.
Ugh, fine Pete, only because I don't have enough time to go out and find the same good for cheaper. Just don't be late again, I will be damned if I gotta wait again to get overcharged.
Nice to business with you too Vincent, heaven forbid you be nice replies Pete.
The two end their banter, and Pete leaves to head to the next business, and Vincent gets ready for his next task...unloading the newly purchased goods.
Right as Vincent brings in the goods, he sees a familiar face in Davi coming down the stairs. He gets her the usual cup of coffee. Some minutes later, Cyrielle comes down the stairs too. She tries to book out the door, but Vincent stops them.
. Yes, the two trying to run out my bar without having a proper breakfast. I don't care where or why, but you better sit your butts down and eat some food before scampering off
Vincent, will not take no for an answer and grabs them by the ears of needed. He goes and cooks a few farm fresh eggs, and gives them each a small glass of fresh milk. After eating he lets them off to their own devices.
Vincent then goes back to putting everything away. Lucky for him, he remembers where everything goes. After 20 minutes, he has all the purchased goods put away; the milk in the cold box, vegetables and fruit in cold boxes as well.
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Vincent gets everything ready, then takes a few minutes, sits at the bar and has a cup of coffee and waits for the customers or Ms. Crimson to trickle in.
That had been so long ago ....
Like a memory walking in her own footprints she thought, and for a moment the lines from Walstret’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 spectre of melencholy.
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 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 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.
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Normally Jezalane woke with the Dawn. Brollentti had made a habit of greeting Sarenrae, the Dawnflower each and every morning and he had expected her to do the same. Actually when she was with the Sisters of Desna, she was always up and doing chores before the first light of had crossed the sky. Even aboard the ship here she had woke with the change in watches. Sleeping late was a luxury she rarely had and habit denied her.
Even so when the light had flooded into her room, golden and warm in the early morning she was slow at rise. She lay there thinking of last night's performance and how well it had gone. Singing in a place like the Hook Scratch was very different from playing with Brollentti in The Thistle and Pike or the Two Roses in Greengold. It was livelier, more the sort of place she would have frequented in her younger days.
She wasn't quite sure of her plans but she suspected that if they could keep up this level of performance, that Hal would be much more amiable to a 50/50 split. That would be a good incentive for her to stay here, at least until she found her feet, or Avanestra, or ....
She smiled at that thought and slowly stretched. Bending her neck first to the left then to the right she finally was rewarded with the release of a small pop as it cracked. Then she stepped out of her bed and pushed open the window. The blue spire was brilliant against the pinks and oranges of the morning sky, it's golden spire shining like a second dawn.
The cold morning air felt exhilarating against her naked skin and she enjoyed the moment. She closed her eyes and let her other senses reach out. The sounds of the street as the city came alive, the smell of bread baking, a slight breeze caressing her skin and the anticipation of her muscles waiting to move.
She slowly started to move in the dance like moves that had served her so well (and so poorly) in her days as a warrior. Ritualistic moves to train the muscles to move without thought, posture balanced with power, speed with precision. As she moved she began to softly sing an aria from Artesia, one of her favorite operas.
"I rise like a Lilly, seeking your whispered light
Dancing in the Aether, a dream taking flight
We shall be together, with the coming of the night
Stars fall from the heavens, drifting out of sight."
She enjoyed imposing music onto these exercises. Bringing beauty and peace out of training for war. The Sisters of the Sublime Thoughts of Air and Water would be proud. They had strived to teach her balance and to release her anger. It had taken years but it now seemed that they had succeeded.
After half an hour she was sweating, both pleased with what she had acheived but always remembering what she had been.
Reaching for the pitcher of water and towel she washed herself off. She could have done it with a cantrip but was enjoying the sensations of the morning. Glancing down at her left arm she could see the Revenge tattooed with it's sails whipping in the wind. The waves rocked it back and forth and for a moment she longed to be standing on it's deck again, navigating the Inner Sea.
She ran the towel down the length of the arm again before turning her attention to her right. The Image of a scabbarded sword entwined in vines and roses made her smile. Unlike the wave dancer, the enchantment wasn't one that you would ever see in action. The roses growing around the long sword did just that, they grew. They were borne of her having turned from the path of blood and should she turn back, she would see them wither in equal proportion.
It was a reminder of who she was, who she had been and who she aspired to become. She hoped that one day the sword would be lost, forever hidden behind the petals and thorns.
When she was done, she sat down on the bed, combing her snow white hair. Braids in the front, wrapped into a crown that allowed it's length to flow down her back
When she finished she dressed for the day; dark green palazzo pants, tucked into her calf high black leather boots with brass buttons and buckles. A white poet's shirt with a high necked collar and ruffled sleeves under a gold and black bodice and a knee length vest coat of matching green with gold and black trim.
When she was done, she gathered her shoulder bag and lute and headed down stairs. She was humming to herself as she entered the common room and wandered over to the bar.
Jezalane wanders down stairs into the common room. It looks so different in the morning light, empty, homey. Ms. Crimson isn't manning the bar but rather there was a man in a apron sitting comfortably in her place. "Good morning, I’m Jezalane." She smiles as she takes a place at the bar and sets down her Lute case. "I wish you the best of days. Might I have some breakfast and some tea?"
Aebin is in his usual spot in the corner before anybody else gets up. He puts down his book to help Vincent bring in the groceries before going and sitting back down. "Hey Vincent, when you got a minute could you make me some of that fried ham and bread? I missed that while you were gone."
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He smiles. "G'night, Davi." One of these times...
* * * * * * * * * *
He wakes the next morning and lies in bed awhile, thinking. Only time will tell, he supposes, whether Jezalene will prove an asset or a liability to him. Oh, her playing was excellent-- perhaps better, if he allows himself to admit it, than his own-- and they took in quite a bit of gold last night. But that isn't the sort of success he's thinking about. If it was the gold he wanted, he'd do better swindling on the streets (though, of course, he still does this on occasion). He stays at the Hookscratch for the patrons.
Eventually making his way to the washroom, he emerges some time later into the common room. "Morning, Vincent," he says, as though it hadn't been over a week since he'd last said a word to the resident cook. Davi and Cyrielle have long gone by this time, he expects, but he doesn't much care where they are or why. No doubt he'll see them tonight, as he always does.
Vincent gladly accepts Aebin's help. Time has not been kind to Vincent's body. He looks up, when he speaks, for he doesn't often.
Some fried fried ham and bread, eh. I could make you some of that, sure. Thanks for helping me with the food.
Vincent is about to head back to the kitchen, when he sees Hal come down the stairs. His usual jovial self, Mornin' Hal. You had a good performance last night. Brought in a good crowd as usual, the more people the better I see it. More opportunity for business, equals more money for all here. So, can I get ya anything for breakfast? I got a couple errands to run, get some specialty good that the grocery cart couldn't carry this morning
Jezalane sits at the bar and watches the man whose name was apparently Vincent address the bouncer and Hal before he heads back to the kitchen. Not being sure if she has some how offended him or if this is his way with strangers, she shrugs and steps over to speak to the Bard.
"Good morning. How are you this morning?" She asks. "I'm going to be spending some time wandering about the city. Do you want to get together at some point before show and rehearse anything or shall we again play it by ear?"
Vincent is absorbed in thought, making a mental note of everything that had to be done. Where am I going to find a good duck at. It needs to be plump, but lean. I also need to visit the local baker and get some fresh loaves of bread for the day...and.
He is startled out of it, when he hears a melodious voice next to him.
Sorry bout that, lost in thought. The names Vincent, you new round here? You had a nice performance last night as well, you two keep 'em coming. Want you want with your tea miss, fried ham like Aebin?
Jezalane started at Vincent's voice and turns around from Hals table. "Nice to meet you Vincent. That sounds good. A little ham would be great, maybe some bread and jam as well." She smiled. [/B]"I will admit to having a weakness to good bread with jam or butter."[/B]
"Thanks, Vincent!" Cyrielle wolfs down a few bites of breakfast, pockets the coin, and rushes out to the stables.
When she gets there, she obediently goes through the exercises, though she's unable to suppress a quick eye-roll. "I'm ALREADY bendy and fast..." At the end of the exercises, she stops, sweat matting her fur, and looks at Davi. "Okay, am I bendy enough? I wanna learn how to fight stuff! But...I guess that's going to take a while..."
Ms. Crimson quietly goes about her duties, leaving her quarters a little late with a vial of some kind. It bubbles, and she leaves it in an unmarked box next to the door before turning to greet a guest making his way down to the bar counter.
She is given a wide berth as she chants at the box in question.
"Vincent, it smells like you have already started for the day with a full stock. I am grateful to you, and I would like it if you could tabulate the expenses to be reimbursed."
I will make sure to keep a tab Miss. I will be back hopefully soon, Alden should be able to cover the breakfast crowd. . Vincent hangs up his apron the heads out with a small pitch of coin to hopefully purchase a few precious goods for the dinner crowd.
Vincent, takes a few step outside the Scratch Inn and looks up at the sunrise. Beautiful, he thought. The sunrise was always his favorite part. He dint linger too long, as finding a duck was not going to be an easy task. He first goes to the local butcher and asks if they have any duck available. The shop owner laughs and says all he has is beef. He suggest he should try a pond or lake. Vincent tells the shopkeep to "shove it".
Vincent then goes to a man who has never let him down, the local apothecary. He has gone there to get herbs and roots to help with pain and restless nights sleep. He walks in and looks around. He then sees Mr. Zhang, and he inquired about if he may have a duck to spare. Vincent is in luck, but it is his last one and he won't be getting any for a week to 10 days.
Vincent asks for a price, and he is told 2 gold. He counters with an offer of 1 gold 5 silver. Mr. Zhang laughs and a snort escapes by accident.
Mr. Zhang, explains that the cost is simple supply and demand. It is the last one, another won't be in for a week to 10 days. Zhang counters with 3 gold to get to Vincent's abruptness.
Vincent agrees to 2 gold, and takes the duck, hogtied back to the Inn to prepare it for the dinner rush.
He enlists Alden's help and the two of them break down to duck, making sure to save everything; meat, bones for broth, and liver. Vincent prepares the bones for the broth by roasting them, then adding some water and he watches it for 6 hours to make sure everything is done right.
He saves the liver, he had heard of a way to prepare the duck liver to make a paste to put on bread. He isn't sure if it will work, but Vincent is always looking for new ways to bring people in.
He tells the barmaids, Cyrielle and Davi to tell everyone that comes in that Vincent has a special item, a delicacy. It is a bread spread; its fatty, tasty, and will hit the spot. Everyone asks what it is, and when they find out it is duck liver Vincent gets the same response, "uck, eew, stick to meat and potatoes".
Vincent does his best, but nobody is willing to "grow a set" and try something new. He doesn't want it to go to waste, so he prepares it towards the end of the night, when the bar is empty and shut down.
Vincent prepares it the way he heard, but he leaves it over the coals a tad too long and it comes out dry and rather unappetizing. He shares with any of the wait staff, Ms. Crimson, Aebin.
Well shit, that turned out less then appealing. No wonder nobody wanted it. Well all hell
He eats it, he has had worse in the military.
At the end of the day, he turns to Ms. Crimson and hands her a detailed list:
Groceries from morning cart: 4 gold
Duck from Zhang Remedies: 2 gold
After her breakfast and arranging to meet with Hal an hour before they were to perform, Jezalane wandered out of the inn and into the awakened city.
The morning was cool with the promise of a mild warmth to come. Pigeons and crow, finch and starlings danced through the air under the occasional white sky adapted to the ways and wall of man as they sought food and pleasure. Two dog fought over a bit of scrap in the gutter as a wagon overloaded with empty barrels trundled by. A mother led her two daughters, the elder playing sentry for the younger, along the the boardwalk, a basket full of the bread and vegetable under an arm.
Getting her bearings she headed west along taking in the sights and sounds of the day. She liked cities, in their own way they were as busy and beautiful as any ancient forest or mountain glen. They even provided a strange degree of privacy and anonymity as one was like the tree hiding in the forest. She loved the diversity of people as they went about their daily chores. In a big city there was the added bonus of being a wide variety of races and nations to spice that pot.
And then there were the buildings, the sites, the history. She had a lot to do today but first she had some prayers of offer.
Desna was the Goddess of travelers and wayfarers, not given to ostentatious displays and her temples reflected that. Banners and with stars, the moon or butterflies fluttered in the breeze. Surrounding the temple were a series of white walls that are covered in the writing of the faithful. As she approached she saw an acolyte selling sticks of colored chalk to the devout.
She purchased a deep bluish stick and looked at the wall in front of her. Taking a couple of minutes to read what had been placed there before. “Not all those who wander are lost”, “Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow.”, “It is good to have an end to journey toward; but it is the journey that matters, in the end.”, “I’m on the road to nowhere”, “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes” “We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.” She didn’t think what she had to say would be as well said as some but it was the sharing that was the act of devotion, not the quality of the words.
Looking for a space where she could write without obscuring too much, in elegant script she wrote. “My feet are stilled but in time the horizon will call and I will seek the dawn.” Then like so many, she brought the chalk to her lips and kissed it, held it at arms length and dropped it to the ground. “Desna guide my feet, lead me safely and find me home.”. With that she brought the heel of her boot down and rushed it, adding it to the growing kaleidoscope of color that covered the flagstones surrounded the temple.
For a moment she thought of her journeys and her companions, those lost and those unseen. She raised her eyes to the spire and whispered “Desna, Mother Moon, Goddess of the North Star, Resplendent Goddess of Fortune; guide them guard them and please, bring the safely home.”
With that she turned and made her way towards the public baths that lay so close to the aqueducts.
.
.
Dripping sweat and panting, Cyrielle steps into the Inn and bounces off to her room. She grabs her work-clothes (the only outfit without rips and tears she has left) and fills the tub-room's basin with cold water. After a quick bath, she returns to her room and grabs her entire life-savings (60 gold coins and a smattering of silver and bronze ones). She'd gotten a good look at Davi's weapon when she came back from her adventure to Precipice yesterday, and Cyrielle wants one of her own. Besides, she needs a couple of new outfits, since hers seem to get destroyed an awful lot, and there are a few hours before her shift starts anyways.
Jezalane wandered about the public bath. It was so different from the baths in Greengold. In their wisdom the elves had no modesty between the sexes but here it was quite different. There were separate entrances for men and women. Both equally grand marbled stairways into no doubt very similar facilities. This was an important feature for those from cultures where modesty was highly valued.
She had changed into a demi-toga before she checked her cloths, lute and bag in after casting a cantrip (prestidigitation) to keep her items, dry and at a stable temperature. Then towel in hand she wandered down to the baths. They were incredibly hot, short of boiling but for a moment she doubted that wouldn’t be scalded. As she settled in she let her muscles relax and enjoyed the experience. When he had traveled with Otto had always sworn that nothing was as relaxing as visiting the public bathes of Absalom.
“I swear, Marda is getting more than pies from the baker over on Chain Street.” “The blonde?” “No the brunette with the scar.”
“I swear, he said it would be a week before they had any ducks to sell.” “No he couldn’t tell me why but he said that there are places selling ducks for 2 gold or more!”
“Dadelis the scribe was warned by the guild that if they found him making extra copies of documents again that they would ban him from the guild and see him in stocks.”
None of this was overly exciting but it was a start. Eventually one of the bath attendants stopped by and asked if she wanted her hair washed. She she considered for a moment and agreed. It was a luxury she hadn’t enjoyed since the last time she has seen Avanestra some... some 4 years or so ago.
Oddly enough, with Avanestra it had been a sensually intimate act but with a stranger doing it, it was comforting like the memory of one’s mother or in her case, a nanny. When she was done, she moved from the hot water baths to the cool ones. She lay there for a while relaxing and listening to more gossip, little of any apparent wealth. When she was done she wrapped herself in her towel and wandered toward the common area. While there were private spas for women to get massages and segregated steam rooms, there were some some communal facilities for those who weren’t offended by seeing members of the other gender wrapped in a towel or perhaps even nude.
There were a some elves and gnomes here as well as a handful of halflings. A couple of half orcs, half elves and a half... she wasn’t sure what. Even so it was primarily occupied by humans and the vast majority of them were male. This didn’t bother Jezalane. If being a mercenary and a pirate hadn’t prepared her for being in mixed company, half a decade in an elvish city would have done so.
She made her way over to where attendants were giving massages, choosing a notably attractive female half orc named Queenie whose hands were magic. Too magical for her to be eavesdropping. While she was getting a knot worked out of her shoulder a servant brought over a glass of chilled wine and he indicated that it had come from a portly man of middle years.
“Mssr. Anrassio is known to be a very generous patron and from what I’ve heard, is not without some skill.” Whispered the masseuse. Jezalane raised an eyebrow and looked at her trying to discern her meaning. As she looked at Queenie she began to get a feeling she knew what was being implied, then to confirm her suspicions she looked about the room, paying more attention to the women. They were almost all very attractive and displaying a excessive amount of amenability towards the men who flocked around them.
”??? Oooooh. I see. He.. You... I see.”. Jezalane found herself breathless and wordless. When you’re a young, attractive female performer there are always those who make certain assumptions about your morals, your mores, your real profession and as a warrior and a pirate she had had more than her share of offensive propositions and she had always dealt with it but this was different. Despite herself she found herself blushing.
It was the unexpectedness of it. Not here, not now. Perhaps it was the civility of it that made it more disturbing. It was embarrassing that she missed what was going on here. It was embarrassing that she mad missed what her Uncle had been referring to. Gods! she’d been naive when they had come through here.
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly. Then she slowly let the comedy of the situation put a smile on her face. When she opened them she took the proffered drink and smiled in the direction of the Mssr. Anrassio. Looking in his direction she took a cool sip, enjoying the cold taste of ice and sugar. It was a bendalkavian ice wine, borne of frozen grapes grown on the edge of a glacier.
It was good.
”Thank you Queenie”. She whispered as she rose to her feet and sauntered toward the merchant who was beginning to smile with anticipated success. As Jezalane neared he rose to his feet. ”Oh beauty of the day. Are you Calistria taken flesh? Come and let me show my devotion.” He laughed.
Jezalane sat near him an amused grin lighting her face. ”Thank you. Your taste is delicious.” she flirted as she leaned forward hinting at her curves below. He’s eyes followed as expected. ”This is quite a surprise, nothing that I expected when I woke up this morning.”
”Do you like surprises?” he replied.
”I do. I love surprises and experiencing new thing. There’s nothing more wonderful than finding something that forces you to stretch your limits.”
” And you, Mssr Anrassio, do you like surprises? Do you like having your limits stretched?” she asked as she leaned and slowly ran a hand along his side, drawing his attention lower, toward her legs.
“I do” he purred as he took a sip of his glass. “I do indeed.”
‘Then you I promise you I have a big surprise for you.” With that she activated the still active power of her prestidigitation and slowly a significant length of her toga started to slowly rise. Anrassio’s eyes widened and he choked on his beverage.
Then he laughed.
He leaned forward and whispered ”My dear, if that is really all you then I would indeed let you expand my horizons but I’m afraid you’re a little thin for my taste.”[b/]
Jezalane looked down and realized that the force that rose from her loins was creating razor thin fold in her toga. It looked ridiculous.
Jezalane sighed, closed her eyes and unleashed a dockside liturgy of curses in the back of her head. Looking up she smiled and then finished her wine. [b]”I apologize. I am not what you took me to be. When I realized what you thought me to be, I was embarrassed and thought to get out of this situation while exacting a little revenge. It was petty and I apologize”.
Still chuckling Anrassio leaned back. ”My dear. I apologize for having mistaken your reasons for being here and for any embarrassment I made you feel. You are truly beautiful and I will admit that I will go to bed tonight regretting that I was wrong. That said, all you had to do was say no. If I may, I would suggest you be a little more discerning as to where you choose to present yourself.” The he paused and thought for a moment. “Might I buy you another drink and we can talk like old friends about the amusing way we met?”
Jezalane wasn’t sure of anything at this point but she suspected he was trying for another bite of the apple. Either way, she knew that a civil as the offer was, accepting would be a very bad idea.
Rising to her feet she put the wine glass down. ”I appreciate the offer but I think I best be on my way. Should we meet again let it be as strangers with no history of prejudice or preconception.”
He rose to his feet as she departed back into the bastion of the women’s portion of the bath. She could feel his eyes following her and she was filled with the urge to bathe again. She wouldn’t, she needed to get out of there and she needed to get out of there now.
Her hair still wet and loose, Jezalane made her way back to the street as quickly as possible. Deep in her gut, she knew she was in danger. She tossed a handful of silver the attendant as she grabbed her stuff and took off. Crossing the street she hailed a passing gig and hopped in. ”The Foreign Quarter!” she yelled. ”Make it fast and I pay in gold.”
As the driver applied the whip she exhaled. She hadn’t realized it at first but there was something very, very dangerous about Mssr. Anrassio. It wasn’t the desire in his eyes, she’d had to deal with it her entire life. It was something else. Those eyes were cold, like there was something hiding behind a mask. Something hungry to be free, something clawing below the surface, something hateful, something... evil.
“Darkness recognizes darkness.” her gram used to say. ”If you can see it, it can see you.” She went a bit mad with age and was fixated on the taint in the triplets. As crazy, as spiteful as she was, she wasn’t completely wrong. Andelain had joined the clergy, cloistered to keep away the darkness. Mardello had taken to the family business and despite how competitive he was, he had been the best of them. The only indication of evil in them was in her.
”Be safe” Jezalane replied. ”Here or in Hell, we’ll dance tonight.”
Trumpets blared and they Cridor’s forces surged. Mad Feglin roared as he waved his glaive ”She’s ours till the dawn. Put them to the sword my loves and take as you will.” and their the flames of war and blood and lust filled them. Like hounds at a carcass they tore into the city. Any who stood before them they fell like wheat before the scythe. In the thrill battle, Jezalane lost herself and streets ran red.
Her heart was pounding like a trip hammer as the as the gig bounced along on it’s two wheels. She had chosen the foreign quarter because it far enough away but she was beginning to regret that decision. If she traveled to too far it would give anyone following a better chance of grabbing their own transport and catching up. She needed to change directions and needed to do it fast. Leaning out the window she handed the driver a handful of gold. ”Keep going to the Foreign Quarter as quick as you can, no matter what I do. Understand? No matter what I do.”
The driver nodded his assent and Jezalane gathered her things. As they rounded a corner she saw what she was looking for.
Three stories, the Dancing Dragon was looked to be a good inn to stay at. It was situated in the middle of the block with lots of windows but a small door facing the street. It was a gamble but one worth taking. She counted to three and jumped clear. She hit the street hard and her ankle screamed in pain as it twisted on the uneven cobbles.
(5 pts damage)
He considered for a moment, glancing through the door she had just come in from. "Keep your Gold" he said as his eyes softened a bit as he stood up and walked her through the kitchen to the delivery entrance. The cook staff looked up questioning but didn’t they didn’t stay long enough for questions.
“Not my business but it you want to lose whomever is following you, I’d cover that hair. It’s rather distinctive.” He advised as he held open the door. With that he turned about and headed back into the inn. "Good Luck, if anyone come looking, I slow them down." he promised
It dawned on Jezalane that he was right. She put her hair up in a twist and reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out her scarf. Looking both ways she pulled the scarf over her head and headed down the alley, away from the direction the gig bee headed out.
A few blocks later and Jezalane found a carriage that would take her towards the Ivy District. It was costly but she enjoyed the privacy. She felt secure, nestled in the seat, curtains pulled up. She sang a healing ballad before she looked at her ankle and was glad she did so. She could see the discoloration fading away and knew it had been ugly.
(+1 if he's someone who might find her sexually attractive)
As wonderful as it was, she never quite relaxed, still haunted by the feeling that something was hunting her shadow. She didn't see anything but the feeling was still haunting her.
By mid-afternoon she was hoofing it back to the merchant quarter, taking advantage of the chance to learn more of the city as she passed through the Ascendant Court, skirted the south end of the Petals and dropping down into the north end of the merchant's quarter.
On more then one occasion the Blue Tower of Desna served as a beacon to guide her home and she stopped and offered prayers for her safe return before heading out to the Hookscratch Inn.
The same cool morning Jezalane was enjoying greeted Cyrielle as she stepped into the streets. Her first goal wass simple: find an orphan who looked like they'd know their way around the markets. Of course, she'd had plenty of experience in them, but her goal had never been good clothing, or a blacksmith's shop. After an hour or so of wandering the streets near a small market-square, she found what she was looking for. It was a young human girl, perhaps ten, dressed in street-rags but surprisingly well-fed.
Fishing through her pockets, she found a tarnished silver coin and held it out to the begging child. "Hey, what's your name?"
The little girl reached for the coin, swiftly pocketing it and grinning back at Cyrielle. "Rebee. You looks like you needs me to do somethin'. What's it?"
"I need you to take me to three places. I'll give you another two silvers at the end of the trip, but you need to move quickly, because I have to be back...home...in a couple of hours. First, I need a blacksmith. Then, a place I can get clothes like I have on, and finally, a place I can buy fancy clothes."
"Okay, follow close. Don't wanna get you lost out theres." Almost before Cyrielle could respond, Rebee was diving through the crowded markets toward the sound of hammer and anvil. "THIS SHOP, IT'S RUN BY A FRIEND O' MINE" she shouted shrilly over the bustling shoppers and hagglers.
As the little girl ran through the stalls and into the fish-market section, Cyrielle found herself suddenly separated from Rebee. The stench of rotting fish filled her sensitive fox-nose, and...
"Hjurk!" All of Vincent's hard work cooking breakfast came out as she vomited into the street. She recovered enough to move quickly away from the mess and follow the sound of ironwork, and eventually caught up to a bored-looking Rebee, leaning against the wall of 'Alerif and Son Smiths'.
"You were supposed to wait for me, Rebee!" Cyrielle nearly screamed. "What if I got lost?!"
"You was supposed to keep ups. I's aint getting paid to play nursemaid. Now, you goings to buy something?"
Looking through the shop, Cyrielle found a beautiful-looking rapier, sized just right for her. She grabbed it and its sheath and walked up to the blacksmith at his forge. "Sir, my father's a halfling, see. I was adopted. And he's had a lot of trouble with ruffians in our neighborhood, so he sent me to pick him up a weapon. I've been to a lot of shops today, and I think he'd like this sword. What'll it cost us?"
"For your father, I'd sell at ten gold coins, girl." Cyrielle dutifully handed over the coins and went on her way, sword hanging on her belt and Rebee leading her to her next destination, the tailor's row.
Davi yawns and stretches before rolling out of bed. 'Mmm, nice nap. Feels like I slept for a week.' She hurries to make herself presentable before the lunch rush starts. 'I need to cut some of this off' Davi muses as she tries to tame her hair. Forcing it into a messy knot she heads out into the tavern.
The lunch crowd isn't large today, something Davi's grateful for. She chats eagerly with some of the regulars as she bustles about. Her shift goes by quietly and smoothly. It puts her in a good mood.
With the Inn growing quiet between meals Davi takes her break. She seeks out Aebin and nods a greeting to the orc as she approaches him in his regular seat. Leaning against the wall she asks "Hey Aebin? Have you ever trained someone before? Fighting I mean" One finger winds around a strand of loose hair. "Cyrielle asked me to show her some moves. And I'm happy to do it, I think the kit will great at it, but...I've never actually trained someone else, you know? I guess I'm just looking for tips on how to do it right."
The soft thump comes from just outside the door, and then the noise of a man diligently cleaning his boots before politely opening the door and wandering in. The stranger has a fairly average face, but there is something about his dark eyes that other adventurers recognize instantly. His lips curl into a smile at the edges as he surveys the room. He has no weapons on his person, and only a small satchel on his back, overtop his coat. He does wear a dark green scaled armor, but it lacks the normal amount of denting and wear that most armors accrue.
Making his way to an empty seat, he brushes his hand over the wood, as if to sweep off dirt and then politely waits for the waitress.
"Hello," he says to a nearby patron
"Ello.." The patron barely gives him a glance, before turning back to his friends.
"So, stop me if you've heard this one before, a dracolich, a drow noble, a drider, a fallen bralani, an erinyes, and a succubus, all walk into a bar.."
During his joke, there was a small audible poof in the air behind him.
"The dracolich decided to carefully examine the bar for any scrolls or magical writings it could add to his hoard before exacting his vengeance via an obscure combination of spells used in unforeseen ways designed specifically to counter it."
At this point, his friends seemed pretty confused.
"The drow noble decided to undermine the bar's supports using political contacts and disposable minions, eventually leading to the bar's fall from grace."
The friends seemed a little more understanding of this one, as it played to commonly known stereotypes.
"The drider first tried webs and poisons and more spiders, but that didn't do anything, so ultimately it fleshwarped a bunch rust monsters to take out the bar."
At this point, the friends were frantically giving him the "death"/"cut it out" symbol, waving their hands in front of their throats.
"The bralani tried wind and lightning, but that didn't work so he had to air form past it, similarly, the erinyes battled with it day and night, but neither of them were able to defeat each other's defense. But then the succubus..." A wolfish grin came into his mouth, but then he got tired of his friends pantomiming, "What is it you ignorant lou*tap tap tap*"
He turned from his friends as someone tapped him on the shoulder thrice, and he saw an armored erinyes, floating just above the ground on her magnificent black wings, a red ribbon tied in her black hair.
"Um... That wasn't very nice, sir. And I've heard it and the last section is even less nice. And more importantly, the drow noble part isn't actually how it happened." The erinyes meekly chided him.
"Uhhhhh..." The man slowly backed out of his seat and started heading for the counter to pay his tab. His friends followed suit.
"Oh.. Well, I suppose I get his chair then." Illia tried to find a position in the chair that was comfortable, but wings made that difficult. She ended up swapping it for a barstool.
"I don't believe that man understands how to tell a joke... It was too long, too varied, confusing and it lacked the basic premise of a joke being funny... he unconcernedly picks apart the failed attempt at humor.
"Hello, my name is Jaduf. he says to the patron who takes up the stool next to his own, and turns to greet her, holding out his hand half facing upwards.
"I doubt they would know humor if it decided to nest on their head." Says the lanky skeletally thin man next to the fireplace, brushing small fragments of burning wood from his cloak. Almost as if he had just stepped straight through the solid fireplace hearth and into the room.
Oh wait no that's an animate skeleton with bones the color of flint, antlers and positively massive opals filling its eye sockets.
A skeletal monkey clambers out of his cloak and begins picking the last few cinders off what appear to be ancient orisani pictographs, the creature animatedly tossing the wood chips into the fireplace again.
The undead somehow makes the sound of a sigh before looking in the direction of the bartender
"Pardon my intrusion, I am seeking a place to rest my weary bones for a few moments. Endless travel has a way of wearing on even the immortal. Due to my appearance you will understand my preference for arriving in a non-standard method. I seek no quarrels and will pay well for a place by your fire. Would I be correct in assuming this arrangement fair?" The skeleton inquires his voice seeming to emanate cold.
"You seem to have some interesting company already." The creature states with a small amount of amusement as he looks to the winged woman at the back of the bar.
The feral growl at the end of the beings words coupled with a few minute twitches of its skeletal hand seems to indicate a deep seated desire to do the winged one harm. It does seem to be quite well concealed at the moment though.
Aebin was glad the situation resolved itself. It's not the first time he would have had to kick somebody out for racist comments.
At the appearance of all the undead Aebin shifts in his chair. "Those undead better do nothing more than stare off mindlessly, otherwise we're going to have a problem. You'll have to ask Ms.Crimson, it's up to her."
The slate skeleton turns its head in the direction of the half orc "I assure you the companion I carry with me now will cause no trouble. Through some matter of magic she maintained her mind on passing. I bring no other companions with me." The small monkey in question looking curiously over the skeletons antlers hopping over his head and landing on the shoulder closer to the green skinned one, simian skull tilted slightly.
" She seems interested in why your skin is that color, and desires to know what you are called. She has no name as far as she has told me. I am called Sanriel."
Jaduf turns in his chair to look at the exchange between the orc and the undead, his mouth quirks into an amused grin and his fingers begin a complex dance as if tapping out a tune
"I've never met one of the dead who wished to have a nice chat and a cup of tea... Perhaps you would care to join us...at your own expense of course. Jaduf's smile could be used to shave with, and though he is curious, he is not curious enough to be sparked to generosity.
"Greetings Sanriel. I'm Aebin, I work here. I'm a half-orc which is why my skin is green." He gestures to the bar. "You should order a drink and have a seat while you wait. I'm sure Ms.Crimson will be out shortly. In the meantime you can tell me how you got non-violent undead."