Sighing as the lost time is solidified. Two weeks wasting away there. Maybe I should have stayed in the city. Or left with the merchants. Shaking away the memories that dance in the forefront of her mind and trying to keep an eye on her surroundings.
Stepping in front of Audria at the halflings leer. Only to visibly flinch at Moira's words, refusing to turn back around. Nodding stiffly, "Yeah let's get this over."
When Moira tells her to come along and mentions oilcloth and wood, Audria looks down at her hands and starts. She hadn't even realized that the flames had started to appear. She quenches them with a thought, but she can't help feeling as if this strange power had more control over her than she it.
"Please, almost anything would be better than staying here," Audria mumbles sheepishly. She shivers, feeling the cold, wet breeze of the Lyme on her skin like a clammy caress.
The wonders - or torments - of the two tents near the entrance to pier will, it seems, have to wait for another time - time waits for no person, and maybe loitering around the Circus isn't the best idea yet... the more astute of the group must surely feel that they are being watched, even if they can't tell by whom or from where...
Approaching the Great Tent, its canvas walls having been opened wide allowing the musty structure to air, the group can see - from some distance away - that Ammos, Gride and the scarred man from the Menagerie Boat are engaged in a quite animated debate about something - and that, chained to a stake driven into the structure of the pier, a hulking animal is silhouetted within the tent. An amalgam of fur and feathers - even whilst it seems stooped, some seven feet tall - this is no natural beast. As the group get closer, it appears to be an amalgam of bear and bird... and is attentively watching, in the way that a trained animal does so, the scarred man.
Seeing the group, Ammos excuses himself and strides out - quite jovial and showing few signs of downheartedness after yesterday’s scolding, he greets each of the group in turn, ”You slept well I trust? Hah!!! The Redemption seems like another life already!!! And so, you are here to tell me your thoughts on Uncle Marren’s proposition”
"We've decided we cannot but accept your Uncle's proposition. He put it so fairly and you and he have been so generous, we must do what we can to aid your family."
He hesitates to say more, but in the end smiles warmly and proceeds simply.
"We're going to head over there this morning and see what we can learn. We hope to be back in plenty of time to enjoy the circus though! When do things get going around here?" he adds actually looking forward to it.
"Yeah, any advice for finding Ms. Spindleshanks? Anything we should know before meeting her? And... just what've you got there, Ammos? Looks scary."
"Quite the beastie!" Salom marvels at the giant creature, instinctively pushing Thea behind him. It does no use, for she simply crawls up his back and peers over his shoulder.
Staring at the massive beast with wide eyes. Listening to everyone talk but no one on her side is saying anything not agreed on and that massive creature is concerning. This is like the worse circus ever.
"You'll do it then? Pay that doxie back for what she did to me?" If Ammos has any remorse about what he did or what the repercussions may be for Grace Spindleshanked, he is showing little sign of it, "She plies her trade up in the Fayre... but not until the evening. When the night takes the island, that's when Grace and her harlot friends... take their customers". Ammos looks up towards the crest of the island, somewhat contemplatively, and muses, "There'll be likely folks up there who knows where they hole up during the day".
When the conversation turns towards the circus animal, "Ahhhh!!! That's our prize specimen... Gripper - he draws the crowds in, that's for sure... some of you are from the countryside? You've seen owlbears before maybe?"
"Mr. Ammos, pardon my ignorance, as I was thoroughly consumed in my soup last evening. But what is it exactly this Swindeltanked creature did to you?"
"And no, alas, I've never seen an owlbear before. Is it a boy or a girl?"
Happy that she isn't the focus of Ammos' attentions after his greeting for once, Audria finds her mind wandering and her eyes looking about while she only pays attention with one ear.
The mention of owlbears causes her to giggle before she can stifle the bubble of laughter.
"Sorry," she chuckles, "it just sounds like something a child would come up with to frighten friends and younger siblings."
Ammos laughs convivially, as if Salom were some old friend who had joked with him, "Yes!!! I thought you enjoyed the wines last night... no matter, it was a fine celebration and the details of that fiend Grace may have slipped you by. Let us just say that she wanted to get with me..." Ammos winks, "I mean... of course she would have wanted that... I'm a Grast and have status within the Family!!! I had wooed her for several weeks... and then, when it finally came to... the deed... a load of the Watch burst in and she claims I was assaulting her. Way I heard it later, the whole thing was a setup by the Frynns... trying to drag our great name through the mud..."
Answering Salom, "Gripper's a boy... the big fella he dotes on Samuel, his handler, seems like he is a father to him. But to anyone else - well he's a fearsome beast that's for sure. I've had two staff needing the churgeon after they goaded the beast one time too many", Ammos smiles at Audria, "He's a strange one for sure and most folks won't believe it 'til they see him".
Salom gets the distinct impression that Ammos isn't being entirely forthright, but figures they can discuss that on the way to the Fayre.
"It is always the way," he laments with Ammos. "Wear your heart on your sleeve, and there's bound to be blood everywhere."
He looks to the owlbear.
"Gripper is definitely...something!" he says, darting a glance toward the every-watchful scarred man. "And so this is your job with the circus?" He asks him outright, "You train this marvelous beast?"
The scarred man, Ammos refers to him under his breath as 'Scarred Samuel', answers under some prompting from Gride and Ammos, sneering a little - the effect is quite pronounced with his disfigured face, "Yeah... Gripper's my charge... him and all the rest of the animals 'ere at the Macabre. 'Course, he'll only listen to my instruction... an' if he gets off the chain, he's like to rip someone's head clean off their shoulders afore I can do much about it".
...it is quite clear, by the pointed way in which he talks about Gripper's violence, that this is a thinly veiled threat.
Scowling a little at Scarred Samuel's behaviour, but saying nothing, Ammos asks whether the group are going to be able to make their way up the Great Fayre unguided. "It's the very top of the island, yeah? Just follow 'the Seethe' up, past Grast Hall and the Bright Souk... it'll be obvious to you!!! It's a place of music, noise and lights... and there's the Great Wheel above it all. I'd come with you but Gride and I, we got work to do..."
Aishe keeps his distance from the beast - it may look calm now, but it does not look tame - at least to him.
When Ammos tells his tale, he smiles at the lengthening of the story, and the possibility that Ammos shaded it a little to make him look better in the deal.
"And the guard believed her huh? Too bad they didn't believe your side of the story."
Why is everyone here threatening us except the Grasts? he wonders idly. Could just be resentment of the latest to join this tightly knit group. But he wonders if there's something deeper.
"Thanks for the directions, I'm sure we'll find it." he smiles wondering just how much Ammos knows about the family he's a part of.
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Moira is not amused by Ammos' locker room talk. How can one jerk be so full of crap. He's like an extradimensional space... a bag of crap holding! Just remember you're here to betray him.
"Ah, and here dear Uncle Marren had led us to believe you were in for necrophilia. Well, we will just be toddling down to the red light district, see you later."
"Yeah... Gripper's my charge... him and all the rest of the animals 'ere at the Macabre. 'Course, he'll only listen to my instruction... an' if he gets off the chain, he's like to rip someone's head clean off their shoulders afore I can do much about it".
"That sounds so nice. Ours only listens to his own instruction, and I'd like to see someone try to chain him. But the heads and shoulders bit, he's just the same there." Moira gives a sidelong glance at Rigo, partially to tease him, partially out of a weird competitive pride in being with a party that has a death monster ally of its own.
Keeping half of her attention on the owlbear keeps her quiet. Really that is a lazy name. Splinting her attention lets a grin from at Moira's jabs at Ammos and Rigo. They both deserve it.
Nodding at the change to leave the monstrous beast and the creepy beast, "Yep if you don't have anything that would help us in dealing with her than we should get going."
Rigo listens silently, and when the scarred man talks about the bug bear being dangerous, he grins a wide shiny white grin, the sunlight gleaming off massive incisors.
Happy to be leaving Ammos and the strange, dangerous creature behind, Audria scurries out after the others. Once they are a little ways away, she clears her throat to get everyone's attention.
"Soooo, are we going to pay our respects to the lady of negotiable virtue now, or waiting until later?"
Taking their leave of the Circus Macabre, and with a jovial farewell from Ammos ringing in their ears, the group make their way back along the pier... a scowl, barely disguised malice, accompanying Scarred Samuel's glare as he watches them leave. Through the turnstile, it moves freely - albeit with the clanking of dilapidated and poorly maintained gearing - in this direction, Aishe leads this strange alliance of Wicken's remnants along the quayside towards the only obvious way from the island - the chain ferry.
The dull thudding of the machinery can be heard long before any of the group see the vast wheel that pulls the chain across the Lyme... mid-morning now, the square into which the ferry will disgorge its cargo of pleasure-seekers, merchants and entertainers is thronged with people intending to make the return trip - tired night workers, partygoers who have celebrated until the sun rose once more and several groups of halfling dignitaries... a surreptitious glance at the groups confirms that Uncle Marren is not amongst these travellers.
There are other people here too, musicians, jugglers and the like... all of whom are vying for the best position to accost visitors to the island - it doesn't take too much imagination to suppose that there are ne'er do wells waiting here as well - pickpockets, confidence tricksters, muggers and the like. It would be well to keep your wits about you in this place...
The fare for the Ferry, advertised on several boards around the square is ten Pilasters to travel 'top-side' and a Shekel to go first class... and approaching now, a vessel of many storeys, the Chain Ferry inexorably clanks its way to the island...
Aishe splurges and plunks down a gold to ride in first class. "I've never ridden first class before. Well there was that one time, but I was a kid then - a long time ago now. Who wants to join me?"
He climbs aboard the ferry when it arrives and looks about, trying to take it all in. From prison to first class, he chuckles to himself at his turn of fortune, even if it is only temporary. Well, he hopes not to land in that prison again any time soon at least.
"I've never ridden either class, but why not start with First? I'm right behind you, Aishe."
Moira follows him onto the ferry, very excited to experience public transportation for the first time.
Shaking her head, "I would rather keep my coin but if everyone is going them sure."
"Well my dear, when in Castorhage..."
Salom drops two shekels for himself and Thea, then crosses the threshold behind Moira.
Rigo rumbles, but drops a gold piece into the box and follows along.
Audria, not wanting to be alone anywhere in this city, quickly pays the toll and joins the others.
Groaning but moving to dig out a golden piece to drop it in the box and trying to ignore the feeling of wrongness at spending that kind of money on something so stupid. But being along is even worse than the lost coin. Dragging her feet but following after everyone.
"Aww, come on, Alexis, 'eat, drink, and ride ferries, for tomorrow we die!' Let's have fun--it's our second fancy occasion in 24 hours, what luck."
As the group clamber aboard the ferry, it becomes increasingly obvious that whilst they thought that they had been sold a first-class ticket they have merely bought the opportunity to shelter from the rain should it sweep in from the sea... there are 'first-class' compartments aboard the ferry, and plenty of signs directing passengers towards these below deck luxuries - yet, if any of the group were to try to access these facilities, the ferry crew will politely declare these areas as 'ticket only' - and furthermore, are apparently 'by invitation'...
It is of little matter though, the trip across the Lyme proves to be a short journey - advertised as a little over ten minutes in duration. Pushing away from the pier and with the heavy iron chains clanking through the ferry's drive mechanisms (somewhere out of view and far below the passenger decks), the vessel starts to makes its way towards the far shore. The boat itself is almost an extension of the pleasure isle... almost as soon as the ferry has cast off then the music starts, bands at different ends of the deck playing jaunty tunes that - however unlikely it may be - seem to harmonise with each other to create something greater than its parts.
And over the hurdy gurdy music, voices call out advertising this show, or that food, or this drink, or that memento... loudest of all, and above the hub-bub of the thronged thousands - for that is how many are crammed aboard this boat - comes the sound of someone inviting folks to watch their ten minute play, "Come one... Come all!!! Hear the terrible tale of the Queen Vampyre and her festering brood... Cower at the secret life of the thrice blighted family!!! Wonder at tales of debauchery and greed!!! Be appalled... Be amazed!!! Only one Pilaster for your front row seat... Come on up!!!!"
"A pox on their families," Salom mutters stiffly when refused first-class service. For her part, Thea doesn't seem to care what class they are. Awe-struck, she teeters around the legs of the group, taking in this lady's ripped fishnet stockings, and that gentleman's worn out shoes, and climbing up Salom's back to get a better view of the musicians.
Leery of being twice-shivved in the coin-purse, Salom ignores the call for the play (it's probably a horrid cadre of hand puppets), opting instead to inquire into Aishe's skill with the crossbow, and whether he himself has ever been shot with one.
Moira, at first flustered by her inability to access the first class section of the ferry, is delighted at the chance to see a play. So often, she's the one doing the acting... but before she pays her pilaster, she catches Salom's question and says,
"It really stings, but then, I was only grazed. You should ask Alexis, it was only yesterday, I bet her memories are particularly vivid..."
Aishe laughs as he's denied entry to the 'nobler' cabins. "I guess we're not fine enough. I should have saved the gold!" he chuckles some more, happy the lesson learned was a relatively cheap on. It could have been worse.
When Salom asks about his weapon, he's happy to chat. "Hi Moira. It does hurt. I have been shot. Twice. It's a common enough weapon among carriage drivers and the crew. Once was by accident, once on purpose - we were passing another caravan in the night and they decided they liked the look of our goods better then their own."
"We prevailed, but only just driving them off. That was a nasty night." he rubs his shoulder a bit with the memory of the pain.
"As for my skill, well, I've a long way to go to be 'good' I'm afraid. I can hit a target, but hitting a moving opponent is a whole other thing. It's tough, and often it's merely a glancing blow. Currently I'm working on accuracy, but there are two kinds of accuracy."
"There's just hitting the target somewhere on their person, and there's hitting them somewhere so it leaves a serious injury. It's a little tricky - learning to target joints and soft spots, rather than the easy shots. But when I learn it, I should be able to knock down more opponents with fewer shots."
He sighs, "But like I said, I have some time before I get there. But what about you two? Seen many scrapes?"
Aishe enjoys the company of the group as he watches the dark water roll by.
Seeing Alexis being down in the dumps and trailing behind, Audria turns back and grabs her by the arm.
"Hey, it could be worse," she says cheerily, happy to be away from Ammos for a good while, "we could be on a ship full of grumpkins! I know a few stories about ships run by grumpkins, and none of them end well for those who ride them."
Rigo eyes the crewman who refuses him entry. "Remember I will. Ferry folk lie. Like all humans." He rumbles.
But what about you two? Seen many scrapes?"
"Oh yes! I was shot in the leg attempting to escape the village. I lost consciousness and was dragged from the river by the soldiers." Salom recounts the tale wth a pleasant smile, as though recalling the fond details of a church picnic.
For a few brief moments, away from the horrors of their time aboard the Redemption and sailing farther from the prying eyes of Festival, the group finally have enough time to relax... to talk amongst themselves, to watch the wake of the boat as it carves across the Lyme and to listen to the strange musics of the Chain Ferry... so engrossed are they that they barely notice when the boat grinds against the pier at the northern shore of the river. But twenty four hours since they slipped their captivity upon the prison hulk, they arrive at the 'mainland' of Castorhage - in the district of 'Hollow and Broken Hills'.
The noise here on the far side of the river mirrors, to an extent, the carnival atmosphere at the pier on Festival although it is clear that the street hawkers, pedlars and buskers have little interest in those leaving the island... their attention is fully on those headed to Festival, those with coin to spend and a mood to match...
The directions that the group received on Festival come back to them as, buffeted by the crowds, the stand at the riverbank - the temples of Torag, at least those which were spoken about, were in Booktown, in the Capitol and in the Jumble. It was obvious, even this morning, that the Jumble was going to live up to its name and that finding their destination was likely to be an exercise in frustration - and, without spending more coin, likely futility. And so, as various boatswains - each promising the quickest and most comfortable ride through or past 'The Sinks' - noisily ply their trade, the group need to decide - do they head towards the Capitol, the very seat of power within Castorhage, or towards Booktown?
"I vote Booktown." says Moira, looking excited. "I would love a chance to do some reading."
"Yes, indeed," Salom echoes the sentiment. "The mind does thirst for erudite stimulation. Perhaps we can come to learn something of the town that we now call home."
Rolling her eyes once it is revealed that there is of course a level above their who have access to everything. Narrowing her eyes at Moira, "It hurt, a lot."
Audria causes Alexis's frown to shift to a weak grin, "So Fey Queen what is a grumpkin?"
Calling out to the others in the front, "We need a temple and then we are supposed to be heading back".
Mumbling to herself, Pretty sure you can get your stimulation back at the carnival."
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Audria's grin turns impish as she begins to spin her tale.
"Oh, grumpkins are mean little monsters. They are shaped like jack o'lanterns with squinty eyes and jowly, frowny mouths," she says as she demonstrates, using her hands to squish her cheeks down into jowls. She holds the face a moment, letting go as soon as she hears a snort of laughter. "They roll and hop about, sounding like a mad goblin banging on a bunch of hollow gourds. They'll smack you in the shins to knock you over then pound you into the dirt until your cry mercy," she tells her audience of one. Then she leans in closely, one arm pulling Alexis close to her as she looks about with wide eyes and pursed lips.
"But it's the ones with ships that you really have to watch out for," she whispers conspiratorial, though it's not much quieter than she has been since beginning her tale. "They go around, carving the smiling faces from jack o'lanterns to use as masks, to make themselves look all friendly like, They find hapless victims and lure them onto their boats, and when they're in the middle of the water," she pauses for a moment, hunching low and looking about again, though there's a twinkle in her eyes.
Audria springs up and wraps Alexis up while tickling her and pretending to nibble her neck.
"Ahnamnamnamnam!"
"If we have some time after the temple, we could look around," Audria offers, "But in any case, I'd rather stay away from the place with all of the guys that... well..."
The young girl shys away from the others as she leaves the rest unsaid.
"I agree - Booktown. Let's get this temple trip out of the way, shall we?" Aishe suggests.
Rolling her eyes once it is revealed that there is of course a level above their who have access to everything. Narrowing her eyes at Moira, "It hurt, a lot."
...Calling out to the others in the front, "We need a temple and then we are supposed to be heading back".
"And then I magicked the crossbow bolt right out of you, and now you're all better. Sorry, I do love to tease--and joking about the bad times makes them easier to process. And I admit it about our schedule, you're right--temple first, then back... but if we finish our business quickly and happen to be walking past a likely looking bookstore, I might insist we stop by, I promise I won't take long."
Salom sighs. "Very well. To church, then."
Smiling though the tale, enjoying the fantasy a mind not her own can create. Flinching and then laughing at Audria before playfully batting her away. "That is .. is a horrible ta..tale to tell. True.. Really horr.. ify..horrifying." And sting is washed away by the smile on her face and the laughter in her voice.
Shrugging, "I won't stop you."
Audria laughs as Alexis playfully swats her away. It feels good to tell a story again, to laugh and be silly if she wanted. It's almost normal.
"If you want horrifying, there's that time Tobias tried to make ulfen fish-head stew," she retorts as she gives the younger girl one last poke.
"Let's get goin' then! Do any of you know where Booktown is," Audria asks.
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Of course, other than the rudimentary directions that they had received on Festival, no-one in the group knows the way to BookTown... half-remembered suggestions from the staff at the inn tell of a need to either navigate their way westwards through the Sinks, something that they were warned off of attempting without a competent guide, or hiring a boat to take them along the Lyme - a far safer prospect... and, with healthy competition established between the many boatsmen calling out from the quayside, not an unreasonably priced one at a single Pilaster each for the fare upriver to BookTown...
And, as hackney carriage drivers and boatswains across the land are wont to do, the group's guide regales his passengers with his thoughts, opinions and stories...
"Ahhhhh... first time to Booktown folks? You'll soon see... it has a unique smell, thst place, of old books and ageing parchment, of ink and learning. A place of towers and strange bridges between buildings, a place where the streets are cramped with a curious mixture of all walks of life. The bewigged legalese rubs shoulders with the punkawallah, who in turn flees from the eyes of his cruel master the overseer, clutching a fistful of legal papers. A handcart full of heavy tomes is pushed by a reed-thin man wearing a turban, a donkey sags beneath its load of new wet parchment... oh, you will see".
"There in the shadow of the tall buildings, men are slave to the books that they come to see, and every window is crammed with tomes and maps and manuscripts, pamphlets, codices, and weighty works. A narrow iron spiral stair through grimy windows? ...then both stair and window shall be crammed with books. Even the streets sing out in worship of the written word — scribes and bookbinders and printers compete for custom amongst the stalls of mapmakers and cartographers and legalese".
His tone becomes mock conspiratorial, "And buried beneath the gloss of respectability are the secrets, the antiquaries who fight over ancient tribal fetishes, the wizards who kill for spells that have never seen sunlight, and the twisted visionaries who organise trips to explore Between. Tell me, is this a place of knowledge, or is it the home of madness?"
A pause during which there is only the sound of the oars cutting into the water and then, "...or both?"
Drawing near now, having navigated past the canals of the Sinks and moving into the shadow of the TownBridge, the boatsman starts to look for a mooring point, "So tell me... what business have you in BookTown? Will you need a guide?"
Aishe, feeling guilty about the barge, pays the boat fare for the party.
On the route, he listens attentively to their boatman, thoroughly enjoying the trip - and the education. When they reach the other side, he says, "We're headed to a temple, and could definitely use a guide if they'll work for a pilaster or two." he suggests, again happy to pay the fee out of his change.
“Thanks Aishe!” Moira beams at the prospect of a place like Booktown. Speaking to the guide: “It sounds wonderful! What’s the best bookstore to visit? Anything near the Temple of Torag?”
"Moira, temple, then bookshop, remember," Audria reminds the older woman.