Audria, already in a huff, doesn't even look back at Rigo's roaring. He'd marked her as his property! It was despicable! Her anger is enough to get her to the pig races. Her expression softens a bit, though her temper remained at a boil as far as Moira and Rigo are concerned. She nods to herself as she makes a decision and makes a bee-line for one of the bookies.
"Pardon me, sir, but I'm looking for Asa. Can you point me to her," she asks.
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Rigo walks up to the railing at the track, and looks at the person next to him. "Do you get to eat the loser?" He asks, thinking about all that meat just racing off it's fat.
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Moira, charmed by the concept of a pig race, moves into the crowd. She keeps an eye out for anyone who might be Grace--but is very distracted by the preparations for the races. She inspects the various pig merch on offer, deciding prudently to back the one with the cutest name.
Thistleweed is a lovely name for a racin' pig! But I like an underdog... or is it an underhog?
Aishe blinks at Alexis as she berates him with strong juniper breath. "I doubt he thinks you're weak." is all he manages as the group turns and presses on. Next time I'll let 'em tear each other apart. he chuckles to himself as he moves toward the race.
"Do you get to eat the loser?"
He chuckles even louder and looks for a place to sit, or at least slouch, where he can still see the race. He settles in and tries to prepare himself for the spectacle.
The bookmaker, an obese man sweating even in the cool evening air, looks at Audria with a quizzical eye, "You're a bit young to be placing a bet? Still, [b]" he laughs, [b]"a wise man measures not the weight of a gift hog!!! You want Asa? Well she hasn't won a race in a good month or so... I'll give you five to one!!! A Shekel wager for a return of five... a bargain wouldn't you day? You'll get no better odds here today - and speak your mind swift, the race is soon".
Aishe keeps his coin purse firmly hidden. He's no gambling man, but he understands the attraction. Lots of people seem to enjoy it, and there are some winners. He smiles and waits for the race to begin.
Moira, realizing that she has only a moment to place a bet, quickly scans the inventory of hasty bacon and selects the cutest-sounding name. She then tries to come up with a wager with the bystanders. She offers up to 5 GP on up to 3-1 odds in favor of the cutest pig.
As people take their places on the benches surrounding the obstacle course arena, the group quickly join the crowd… a cacophony of squealing precedes the arrival of the main event - six pigs, all of them a more than healthy size and each with a sash of coloured cloth tied around their necks. Two of the porcine racers are entirely pink - one announced as the heavily favoured ‘Thistleweed’ and offered with odds of Evens… and the second pig as ‘Corncob’ with long odds of Ten to One…
After those two, the remaining pigs are mottled pink and black - and with sashes of Black, Red, Green and Blue to distinguish them from each other are introduced into the ring as ‘Marigold’, ‘Lettuce’, ‘Asa’ and ‘Squealy Bret’… leaning across to Moira when she proposes a wager, a young man - cheeks flushed with an evening’s drinking already - smiles, ”I’ll take those odds… Three to One on whichever one you fancy backing? But let’s keep it to a few Pilasters? No need to throw the fortune into the furnace until you’ve seen what form the racers are in”.
Each of the pigs moves towards the starting rope, very much as if they have been through this routine many times before, where a man - dressed brightly in a ringmaster’s outfit awaits. All told, there must be nearly three hundred people here watching from the benches… and an expectant hush falls…
Rigo grumbles as his question is ignored, and wood peels from the railing as claws sink into it. He turns to the other side. "We. Eat. The. Losing. Pig?" He bites the question off one word at a time, asking the person on the other side as peels of wood curl and fall at the feet of the one that ignored him.
Moira gleefully agrees, "Great! Three pilasters on Marigold! GO BLACK SASH!" After all, that's her favorite color.
She's never gambled before.
Audria, not as sure about this plan as she was before looks around for a moment before pulling out ten silver coins from her purse.
"Ten pilasters on Asa," she mutters as she hands the coin to the bookie.
This was stupid. So STUPID! Why did I think I'd be any good at this?
Sullenly trailing along with everyone and finding a seat to watch a bunch of eventual food run around. Though she keeps glancing back out the way they came.
The man sat closest to Rigo has a somewhat tremulous note to his voice as he replies to the towering tabaxi, "No... No, I mean no... Bartholomew Starling who runs the races - he'd take a dim view of anyone harming his prize racers..." Maybe the man was about to say something further but his words are drowned out by rising waves of cheering as the ringmaster drops his flag...
In the arena, the six pigs race forwards - their bulk belying a surprising pace and eagerness. Growing in volume, the cheers for 'Thistleweed' - so obviously a crowd favourite - become more excitable as the white sashed pig draws clear of the chasing pack. Into ditches and over low fences, the pigs race twice around the track... and now, as 'Thistleweed' begins to tire, the black sashed 'Marigold' surges forwards - and, neck and neck into the final pool of mud, 'Marigold' takes the lead... and scrambling free of the slop, takes the final flag!!! 'Thistleweed' comes in a close second whilst 'Asa', 'Lettuce', 'Squealy Brett' and 'Corn Cob' are some way behind...
The arena erupts to cheers from the winners and groans from the losers... and the man next to Moira, smiling and wondering aloud whether she would like a drink, hands her nine Pilasters, "Good as my word, miss..."
"YEAH, MARIGOLD! GO BLACK SASH!" Moira yells, jubilant at her victory. She then turns to the man next to her, and says, "Beginner's luck, and maybe a country girl's eye for pigflesh! Yes, let's get a drink--anyone hawking a good lager in this joint? Name's Moira."
Aishe laughs with the pleasure of the race, and Moira's luck. He's surprised at how entertaining the race was really. He hadn't expected to be caught up in a pig race, figuring the animals would spend some time wallowing around. But they ran! Oh how they ran!
Rigo shrugs. "Not sure why so fun watch then. No pig root for." He shakes his head at the folly of bareskins, and then begins to wander around, his nostrils looking for undead or rat smells. Also watching for swan tattoo's.
Smiling at Moira, even as he hands over his coin, the man introduces himself as Grunwaldt, "Pleased to make your acquaintance Moira", he almost bows - but then catches himself and offers a handshake instead, "There's a bar just along from here... outdoors stall does a passable lager but it's mulled ciders are renowned - how does that catch your fancy? Just a quick drink and then back here for the next race maybe? I've got an accumulator running that needs Thistleweed to buck up his ideas!!!"
Meanwhile Rigo takes a wander through the crowds... there are no smells of the undead here - but rat? It is ever present... a stench that has only got worse the farther that Rigo got from the Lyme. And as to Swan Tattoos? Nothing.
No need to slow down the story overmuch for a Moira interlude, but she's happy to make a connection while celebrating her good fortune. It's been a long time hanging out with the same crowd... she selfishly decides not to invite anybody along.
Moira shakes Grunwaldt's hand vigorously, saying, "Yes, let's go have a cider! My treat, I've got the money (as you know). And you can tell me... what is an accumulator? I'm afraid I don't know much about pig racing."
It'll just be a minute or two, and Grunwaldt seems nice...
Audria has a thought as she turns to walk away and turns back to the bookie.
"Where can I find Asa's owner," she asks, "I'd like to meet them, and maybe sing to them to help brighten their night some."
I heard right, didn't I? Go to the pig races and ask for Asa. That's what the lady at that flammable gin joint said, right?
Flammable? Nononono! Do not think like that! That's not you, Audria. You don't go around starting fires!
Doing her best to look confident, she waits for an answer.
It would seem that Grunwaldt has quite fine tastes, the smell of the warmed ciders permeates the air from some way away... and indeed, the queues are a little more than you might expect were you only used to Wicken's Smiling Pig. But it is worth it in the end, after five minutes or so of being jostled in the crowd, a pint of a powerfully warming drink... spiced and strengthened with brandy, are placed in Moira's hands, "It'll keep away the autumn chills", Grunwaldt smiles...
"An accumulator? Ahhhh, it's a way of making the evening's wagering a little more interesting... I have bet on a number of races - the obstacle race... the sprint which is up next and then, a little later on, pig against Swyne - so long as my wagered beasts come in first or second in each of the races, I'll be in the money", Grunwaldt pointedly touches the cider-soaked wood of the bar - clearly a superstition of some kind. He turns the conversation, somewhat inelegantly towards Moira, "I haven't seen you in the Great Fayre before - are you from out of town? It's a wonder isn't it, this place? Have you been on the Wheel yet? The views from there... they're fantastic!!! Maybe... maybe we could share a gondola later?"
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the relative calm between races, Audria starts to ask around for Asa's owner... it was true that Miss Butterfly had specifically directed the group to come here and to seek out Asa - and she had seemed rather genuine. Eventually she finds someone willing to talk, a man carefully perusing a manuscript looks up at her, "Asa's owner? You'll need to be speaking to Bartholomew Starling - he owns the entire racing troupe... over there", the man gestures towards a wooden house neighbouring the arena, "I think that's his house... a good a place to look as any..."
There’s something so wholesome about this gambler’s clumsy flirtations that Moira finds herself warmed by more than just the cider.
Grunwaldt is just so normal! Just a gambler with a scheme, placing a long-odds bet on a stranger in black. He’s being nice about it… ah well, let’s see what we can learn.
Moira chats airily, “Yes, I am from out of town—from a flyspeck of a place across the border. This is my first time to the pig races, and my friends and I have only been in Festival for a few days. It’s a little overwhelming! That Great Wheel sounds marvelous, but I don't think I have time... you see, I’m here on business.”
She decides to place her own risky wager. Either he’ll help me out or he’ll scamper off, either way, no real loss.
Lowering her voice, she explains, “In fact, as part of that business, I’m trying to deliver a message to an unusual person I've never met before, but who is supposed to spend time around here. I don’t want to talk too much… but you’re the first friendly local I’ve met… can I ask you if you know her?”
Moira watches his face to see if she can trust him.
Whatever the truth is, she feels pretty trusting. "Her name is Grace Spindleshanks."
Aishe follows Audria figuring Moira can take care of herself. He stays out of the way, and spends most of his time watching the crowd - though he tries to pay attention to the swirling around Audria so he can interject if need be.
Staring at the pig running around and feeling boredom sink its claws into her mind. So much time to kill.. I mean I'm not needed here for a little while, right?
Looking around for everyone. Rigo is off limits for the moment and Moira found her a person Spinning around but Salom vanished into the crowd, probably being weird somewhere. Grinning to herself And the A -Team is talking to some guy.. I mean I have nothing I could do to help. There is a half an hour and I doubt they will even notice I am gone.
Wobbling on her feet and wandering back towards the exit. Never seen a golem before.
Audria thanks the man before scampering off towards the indicated house. Once there, she grabs the iron knocker and bangs it on the door to announce her presence.
Aishe closes up with Audria as she walks to the house. "Mind if I join you? I dunno where the others have wandered off to."
Assuming she says yes, he'll join her at the door. If not, he'll head back to the race and mill about with the throng.
"So long as you don't try to claim me as your property," Audria says with a hint of bitterness in her voice. "You and Alexis are the only ones who haven't insulted me, degraded me, or dragged me into something without asking first."
Aishe looks shocked, "You just haven't given me enough time!"
He laughs and walks along side her to the door. He waits while she pounds on it to announce their presence.
Moira, warmed by the cider and feeling quite relaxed around Grunwaldt, decides to chance it - and outright asks the young man whether he knows of Grace Spindleshanked. Moira's new friend seems, as he takes a sip of his drink, genuinely taken aback, "Spindleshanked? I've heard the name and I've heard of what she is... and does. If you're looking to find her then up here in the Fayre's no bad place to start - it's where she plies her trade. But what would a nice girl like you have to do with someone... something like Grace?"
He pauses for a moment before adding, "You do know that she's rumoured to have eaten some of her customers don't you?"
It is only a short walk from the pig races to a marquee tent proudly advertising itself as 'The Stitchwork Golem Show - for your entertainment and excitement!!!' Images, all rather crudely drawn with chalk onto blackened boards, hung around the outside of the tent declare 'Dance' - with two large figures engaged in some form of polka dance, 'Laugh' - the same figures but with crude clown faces, one tripping over the other's outstretched foot and 'Learn' - one of the figures dressed in armour whilst the other wears a crown. From inside the tent, comes the sound of whirligig music played inexpertly on an organ and occasional laughter...
Seeing her interest, a man with top hat and cane parades over to Alexis, "Ye've come for the Golem Show? Best damned entertainment this side of the Lyme I'd say and there's many reviewers who'd agree with me... sorry to say that you've missed the first show but for just two Pillasters - you can watch the rest of the night's entertainments. The folly and clowning will run for another fifteen minutes... and then after that, a few repairs and on to my piece de resistance, 'the Regret of Good King Worrn the Fourth'... so, you want a ticket?"
The door to the squat building is off to the side such that it doesn't face on to the main area where the pig races are held - and, as such, Aishe and Audria's approach probably wasn't noticed by anyone... especially given that the majority of the crowd has dispersed towards the food and drink stalls that line the alleyways here. Three times Audria raps the knocker... and eventually has to concede that Starling isn't at home - that it is until Audria and Aishe hear several voices coming from around the corner...
"Good crowd tonight... I'd thought it would have been quieter with the weather earlier..."
"And what about Marigold? I suppose it was about time she won a race" - this statement is followed by high-pitched laughing...
"Anyone know what's happened to Bartholomew? A fresh drink before the next race would go down well"
Smiling widely at the man though as he talks her smile falls into a frown, "I wanna see the show but I only have half a' hour before they start I have to go.."
Shaking her head and digging out the two coins, "Never-mind, yeah I want a ticket. Show me something I ain't ever seen before."
"But what would a nice girl like you have to do with someone... something like Grace?"
He pauses for a moment before adding, "You do know that she's rumoured to have eaten some of her customers don't you?"
“I’m not sure I should even try to explain it to a nice boy like you, but here goes. Truth is, I’m up to my neck in 'otyugh’s delight.' Someone saved my life, for a price. I’m paying now—they want me to find someone who is probably hidden on this island, a tall man. Do you know lots of people, Grunwaldt? Maybe you know him. Grace, well, she’s not even really part of this. She’s just one little tangle in the web, out near the edge, and I just need to talk with her. What’s she look like, anyway, do you know?”
She smiles. “And don’t worry too much about me; I’m not alone in this. And even if I was, I’m used to taking care of myself.” She pulls her sword six inches out of its scabbard, then slams it home. And she takes another swig of her cider.
Perhaps it is naivety.
Perhaps it is youthful folly.
Perhaps it is simple impatience.
Whatever it is, it drives Audria to poke her head around the corner to see who is talking.
"Um, hello. N-nice night for a pig race?"
Aishe slides up next to Audria and wonders how their new friends are going to react to being discovered. He hopes with open arms.
He grins at them, "Have either of you seen Bartholomew Starling? Audria here has a couple questions for him, nothing vexing I assure you. We're just looking for someone and heard he might be able to help us."
Moira realizes how long it's been since she looked someone in the eyes for a good, long, look.
Grunwaldt. Such an unfortunate concatenation of consonants overwhelming the poor outnumbered vowels. Such a nice face. Probably time to bid him farewell... I should find the others...
Grunwaldt, matching Moira's drinking - swig for swig - nods that he's lived on Festival long enough to know most folks... and to which of the families they pledge their allegiance towards, "This man you're looking for... I take it he's no halfling if he's a tall fellow?" When the conversation returns to Grace, Grunwaldt confesses that he's never actually seen her although he has heard that she occasionally dresses as a bride, "Maybe it's the contrast of the peak of one's life against the ghastliness of death? Whatever, it seems to work for her and her clients..."
Ushered into the tent, Alexis is immediately confronted by the bizarre sight of two golems, both seemingly sewn from sackcloth and inexpertly stuffed with straw, engaged in a slapstick routine. A rope on the floor, encircling the sawdust arena, separates the meagre - and rather bored - crowd from the 'performers' who are busily tripping over various items scattered around the perimeter.
The voices, mid-conversation, fall abruptly silent as Audria and Aishe make themselves known... and, turning the corner, the folk from the Wicken see a large walled pen - in which the six racing pigs are lazily wallowing in mud - and a chained up hound. The hound, some breed of mastiff and particularly vicious looking, watches Aishe and Audria... its lip curling into the beginning of a growl - but, looking around, there is no evidence of whoever it was who had been talking...
"hehehe. OK then. Uh, Audria, I think it's time for us to leave." If Aduria agrees, he'll back away from the hound, and the pigs, uneasily. When out of earshot, he adds, "Did you see their eyes? I wonder if were-rats aren't the only were-creatures here. Damn - I hope there's not something in the water."
He half resolves to drink nothing but high-alcohol spirits from now on.
Finally, a tie to Moira's metier! She explains:
"Actually, your intuition is probably pretty close, Grunwaldt. Death and marriage are closely associated in many local cultures. Before I got wrapped up in troubles I was a professional mourner--I have laid down many a woman in her bridal gown, young, old, and in between. The symbolism of a tie between the living and the dead helps many people see death as part of the continuum of life, rather than as its opposite. Sounds like Grace is harnessing the symbol for pecuniary (and possibly culinary) reasons."
Moira is feeling better and better about her chance to get a real lead to Uriah Agaric. She decides to gamble... hopefully, the stakes will not prove to be too high. "You mentioned allegiance... who do you pledge allegiance to, Grunwaldt, if you don't mind my asking? One of the Houses?"
"The man I'm looking for... he's named Uriah Agaric. He has a swan tattoo. Know him? Know anything about him?"
: "Well, it has been lovely talking to you, Grunwaldt! I hope I can take you up on that ride on the Wheel someday... got to run, now."
Audria doesn't resist as Aishe pulls her away, though she looks confused.
That is until Aishe lets her in on what he suspects and she looks horrified.
"Y-you mean that we're supposed to talk to one of the pigs?"
"Y-you mean that we're supposed to talk to one of the pigs?"
Aishe responds with a suddenness that belies his surprise, "Oh, I hope not! That would be weird. I mean... I had bacon for breakfast!!" he feels a little ill.
"Me? Pledge allegiance to the Family?" Grunwaldt looks genuinely shocked, "I try to steer clear of all of that nonsense - keep your head down and mind your own business, that's what I say!!! The Grasts, the Scathels, the Frynns... I avoid the lot of them - there's enough tax and levy within Castorhage without letting someone else help themselves to the Pilasters in your coin purse". It is rather noticeable that whilst Grunwaldt is talking about multiple 'houses' - the Frynns, the Grast and the Scathels - he is still talking about the Family as a single entity rather than 'Families'...
When discussions move on to Uriah Agaric, Grunwaldt smiles, "Happens that I do know him... he's a young-ish fellow occasionally drinks down in Liquorice district - that swan tattoo? It's on his neck yeah? Quite a piece of art actually... I asked him about the reasons for the tattoo but he just avoided the question. I haven't seen him for a while though - I think he was doing labouring work along the northern side of the island? For the Grasts I think?"
Ordering another drink for both himself and Moira whilst suggesting that it's getting about time to return to their seats, he asks, "Is he okay? Is he in trouble or something?"
"He's in trouble, yes. Look, you live here, and you seem pretty happy--I don't want to cause you any trouble by mixing you up in my problems, Grunwaldt! But I need all the help I can get. So, if you want, I'll tell you more later, after I introduce you to my traveling companions. Some of them are even friends. You're the first person I've met who knows the person I'm trying to help, and you know so much about Festival, to boot--it'd be really great if we could explain our situation and get some advice." Moira pushes her winnings from the first race back to Grunwaldt, smiling. "Tell you what, place a bet for me, and I'll find you after the next race? I've got to round up my people."
If he agrees to help, Moira will plunge back into the crowd, hunting for Salom and Thea, Audria, Rigo, Alexis, and Aishe; she'll tell everyone she finds that she's met someone nice who knows Uriah Agaric and might be willing to help.
If he backs out, Moira will feel disappointed, but even in that disappointment she'll be glad to have a little more information and a new friend on Festival.
Frowning as she looks around before turning to the man who sold her a ticket, "Does the audience always look so bored cause I can see that anywhere."
"We were told to talk to Asa. Asa's the name of one of the pigs!"
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"We were told to talk to Asa. Asa's the name of one of the pigs!"
Aishe looks stunned a moment, "Yeah, but." he looks at Audria, "But Bacon!" He sighs with the ludicrousness of it all and says, "Right then. Let's go!"
He stomps back around the corner and confronts the pigs. "OK, which one of you is Asa then? If you don't mind, we've got some questions - some of which we will not ask!"
He shudders a moment, before pressing on, all adrenaline, "We're looking for Grace Spindleshanked and Uriah Agaric. She's a ghoulish harlot, and he has a swan tattoo on his neck. Anything you can tell us would be most helpful."
He looks at the pigs after his outburst, and silently prays they don't talk back...
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Grunwaldt bows graciously towards Moira, "Until later then... it's been a pleasure".
The ticket seller tries to calm Alexis down, "Wait... wait... there's more to see", and he's right - as Alexis watches, a third golem - this one seemingly sewn together with an assortment of flesh, leather and hide - stumbles into the ring. Blindly flailing around, it blunders towards where the sackcloth constructs are kneeling on the floor, and it duly trips over...
...and to roars of somewhat cruel laughter, the stitching around the golem's neck tears and its uncomprehending eyes spin as its head rolls along the floor. Predictably, and to the hilarity of the audience, the leather creature clatters around the ring looking for its head.
The pigs look momentarily surprised when Aishe returns... and then the prettiest, and quite possibly the plumpest, of the sows - pink with brown spots - oinks at him, "Asa... that's me... Asa and I know that name.... oh lord, I know that name!!!! Oh dear.... Oh!!! watch out!!!!"
...as bounding towards Aishe, the chained dog bares its teeth... and crashing into the man's ankles, tries to drag him down to the ground!!!
Round: 1, Initiative: 8
Conditions = None
Weapon Equipped = None
Silver Blanch, Cold Iron Bolts = 19/20
Ranged: Attack: BAB +1, Dex +3, Masterwork +1 Damage: +0
Melee: Attack: BAB +1, Str +0 Damage: +0
Grit = 2/2
Aishe, ever the archer, falters badly when faced with a grappling dog. He swears loudly, both that the pig is talking to him, and that the dog seems to have him by the ankle.
He tries to break free!
Likely still held, he prays for help as he begins to see his life flash before his eyes...
A small grin forms, "Yeah, alright."
Taking a moment to look for somewhere to sit down and wobbling towards her chosen seat. Chuckling as the strange construct kicks its head in attempt to collect its lost head, "Thats messed up."
Audria panics as Aishe is attacked and looks around for something, anything, to help him out of this predicament.
BURN!
The flames come unbidden and before she can stop herself, Audria reaches out for the mutt's neck.
Aishe, suddenly finding a huge weight of canine muscle clamped around his ankle and attempting to drag him to the floor, tries to pull himself free... but the beast's jaws are clamped shut around his boot - and, if anything, he is lucky that the dog's teeth haven't pierced through the leather of his boots...
Luckier still that he is with Audria... and that her flames, still barely under control, lash out at his attacker. Howling with pain, the dog loosens its grip - and testing the limit of its chain - slinks away as far as it possibly can... it's tail somewhat tucked between its legs as the stink of burnt hair, as pungent as it is acrid, hangs in the air.
Far from sympathetic to their supposed guard, the pigs audibly chuckle at this insult to the beast... and then Asa, her voice rather high pitched, continues, "The name Uriah Agaric... that means nothing to me. But Grace? Grace Spindleshanked... yes I know her... she stinks of death that one - her own as well as fresher kills. Have you come to do her harm? Oh pray it is so... that one, she is here most nights - torturing me with her words and ghoulish promises. Are you here to usher her into the true afterlife... or to imprison... or anything that keeps her away from here???!!!?".
It doesn't require any empathy or special intuition to see that Asa is genuinely afraid of Grace Spindleshanked.
The clowning show continues for another ten minutes or so with ever increasingly injurious accidents befalling the 'clowns' - suffice to say that, when the show finally ends, several costumed folk take to the stage sweeping up limbs, heads and other parts of golem. The top-hatted man, standing atop a plinth that he rather grandly carried into the centre of the stage, bows at the gentle applause, "There shall now be a short intermission whilst we prepare our actors for the evening's next entertainment - the tragic tale of king Worrn, the fourth and last of his name".
Aishe carefully checks his foot before climbing to his feet and trying to get the worst of the mud off his clothes. He looks to Audria, impressed, "That was brilliant, thanks. Thought I was a goner there for a moment."
He turns to the talking bacon pig and tries honesty, "Well I dunno what we're going to do when we find her, but we were hired to kill her and we may yet fulfill that request. If we have the upper hand, I'll certainly tell her to leave you lot alone if it helps."
"So tell us, where can we find her?"