The day had been long, and Audria felt sleep coming on. She nods where she sits on the bed a few times before finally falling to sleep. The others would decide, no matter her input. Alexis and Rigo would argue. Moira and Salom would be weird. Aishe would just go along with whatever, and she didn't know if she cared either way.
Unless bothered, she sleeps until the morning.
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A street-urchin notices something strange. The black wagon jolting down the planks of Festival is… dripping. The urchin rubs her eyes and looks again. Yes, the black wagon is dripping. The child’s gaze rises from the drips of black paint that follow the vehicle to the sturdy woman holding the reins of the sad-looking pony. She’s in black, hunched over, a kerchief tied over her face, and a big hat pulled low over her eyes so that of all her face, only her hard, nervous gaze is visible.
The urchin decides to follow the dripping wagon. Gliding through the shadows, the child easily keeps pace. The woman seems to be guiding her wagon to a particular place, some location in the warrens of alleyways and side streets. But sometimes she has to turn around. It’s easy to get lost, thinks the child—if you’re an outsider.
Finally the woman stops the wagon in front of a trash heap. She hops down and gives the pony a handful of something, patting it affectionately. She spreads a clean, cheap white linen sheet on the ground. The child slinks closer, curious—but suddenly she screams and runs away. The woman had pushed aside a pile of garbage to reveal a human hand, dangling lifeless from the heap.
Moira turns at the sound, startled, and just glimpses the child’s stockings as they vanish into the darkness. Hurrying now, she exhumes the corpse of Liza, the ex-ghoul. Expertly wrapping the half-naked, wound-gashed, famine-thin body in the waiting winding sheet, she loads her grim cargo into her wagon and heads in the direction of the Circus. After securing the wagon, she heads to the nearest station for hiring boats.
After haggling a while, she hires a boat to carry her to the ghats. She ties a matching handkerchief around the boatman’s face—a handkerchief scented with orris root, a scent strong enough to cover Liza’s stench. They load the anonymous corpse into the boat.
As they scull across Sister Lyme, Moira sees the smoke of the ghats in the distance. If not for the scented kerchiefs, she would smell the overpowering scent of roasted humanoid flesh—a familiar, if not comforting scent for a professional mourner who has lit many a pyre.
The Jaati Untouchables meet her as she lands. Moira speaks with one of them, a beautiful, soot-filthy young man, and hands over her card and a shining coin. He vanishes, and then returns with an armload of wood. By her graceful handling of her surprisingly-light burden, the Untouchables see that this woman is well-used to handling bodies. They make way for her, surprised that someone from outside would come and work the ghats—taboo in the Blight. They are even more impressed when she builds a pyre quickly and efficiently, setting the wood so that the flames will burn hot. Hot enough.
Some of the Untouchables pause in their own grim work to watch the curling flames as they consume the body. As the shroud flickers, they have a sudden moment of fear and horror—the body beneath seems somehow awful, as if the person it belonged to had died of a foul consumption. But this passes. It must have been a trick of the light.
Moira stares at and through the burning pyre, muttering to herself. It’s not a prayer. Moira hasn’t prayed since her village was wiped out by plague. Nobody listened then, why waste the breath now?
If anyone approached her, they would hear that her words are angry. Angry at the world. Angry at her inability to change it. Anger at herself for spending time and money on a body of a monster who had tried to kill her. But the body isn’t the ghoul Liza. It’s a woman. A victim of a plague.
“This is all I can offer you. This and an apology for what will happen to those others, your ‘sisters.’”
After she sweeps Liza's ashes into the Lyme, the Jaati man approaches her. He asks her if she will be working the ghats regularly. His raised eyebrow demands an explanation, but Moira deflects his inquiry.
“No, I won't be back. Not often, at least. These days I’m in a different line of work. I have to attend to the living before I can honor the dead.”
Moira returns to the boat, and the boatman quickly sculls back to Festival, shocked by her willingness to break caste. The do not speak, except for his black mutterings about ill luck and strange ways--pointed comments about the filth of the Untouchables. Moira ignores him.
When she gets back to the circus, she flops down in her clean wagon and rests, exhausted.
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Rigo gets up early, before dawn, and heads out. It's easier that way, the humans argue too much, and there are too many things he must do. He briefly considers simply leaving the humans, it would take little for him to sneak out of the city, and simply head off to the horizon, by the time the black dye wears out of his fur, it'll be winter. But that would not allow him his revenge. He's heard of a name that signed for the death of the Village, who signed for his vengeance, and he wants to know if he needs to thank that person, or have them eviscerated. Plus, he has duties...
Fortunately it's a different ferryman today, and Rigo is on the very early ferry, and given the hour, it's light, so he takes a corner and doesn't talk to anyone, and nobody talks to him. That part of the city he does appreciate, that people mind their own business. It's not quite as good as being in the forests, but it's the best he can hope for.
Retracing his steps (his scent is still on the stones, it's only been a few days), he finds the Temple of Torag again. This appears to be his day, as the officious little dwarf from before is not in today. Informing the new Accolite that he's here to see Sera Alphagora Argentblade.
This time, he only has to wait a few minutes, even this early in the morning. He's quickly led down into the temple, to the lower levels, and into an office of stone walls and shelves, with stone desks and chairs. Behind the desk is an angry looking female dwarf with weathered tanned skin and long dark hair. Behind her on the wall is a massive battlehammer with the symbol of Torag on it. "I thought ye were supposed to be white and black, not black and black. How are ye now, to be bringing me messages from someone? If ye're here to deliver a message for me good for nothin' brother, I'll use that hammer there to give ye a message to take back to the drunkard!."
Rigo steps into the room, and then takes the holy symbol out of his pack again, setting it silently on the desk in front of the woman. Her skin pales, and she points to the two guards who were leading Rigo. "Get out, now!" The two hesitate only long enough for her to stand up to repeat her order before they exit the room with alacrity entirely unbecoming Dwarves in full plate.
Sitting back down, she takes the holy symbol, a silver and platinum hammer with Dwarven runes on it. She takes a deep breath, and sighs, taking a seat again, looking several decades older. "Take a seat, and tell me what of it, ye great furry thing."
Rigo steps forward, but doesn't sit. He looks her in the eyes directly. "I Hight Rigo, of Clan Sharva. It is my regretful duty to bring you word of the death of your brother. He died 2 months ago, just after the full moon. According to his wishes, his body was burned in his forge, and the ashes were mixed with charcoal and mixed into iron ore he'd prepared." He reaches into his pack and pulls out an 8 lb roughly square hunk of steel. "I regret I was unable to form it to a perfect square, I am not a blacksmith." He places the steel block, containing the ashes of her brother, on the desk. "He died of a lung ague, almost certainly brought on by his liver failing and weakening his body." He then reaches into the pack for one last item, something that looks like a worthless old leather sack. "He said you'd know how to get what he left for you, if you were really Sera Argentblade."
The dwarf, silent through it all, looks at the items, and then nods. She calls for the guards, and sends one to the kitchens, to return with a full ham. The guard returns 10 minutes later with a ham the size of his own bicep. Taking it, she chases the guard out again. Opening the end of the leather sack, she holds the ham up to the sack mouth.
The edges of the sack move on their own accord, and rows and rows of serrated teeth grow out. A long scaley tongue extends out and wraps around the ham, pulling it into the empty sack, the teeth crunching through the meat and bone equally. The sack itself remains nearly flat, even as the mouth of the sack noisily crunches the ham. Finally, with a small burp, the tongue and teeth vanish.
The dwarf woman reaches into the sack, her arm vanishing to the shoulder, and begins to pull things out, an old metal jewlery box, several mundane sacks of odds and ends, a set of armor that's polished to a mirror finish with Torag's symbol on it, the pieces disassembled for storage.
Finally she extracts a small wooden box with a jade inlay on the top, and sighs. "Well, Torag take the bastard, he's dead, he'd never part with this if he wasn't." She turns to Rigo. "Ye have my thanks, Rigo of the Sharva, for bringing me his mortal remains and his belongings."
Rigo nods. "He was a good man, even if he was a drunk. He saved me, and kept me from killing those who killed my parents, for as long as he was alive at least. And then the circumstances killed them for me, leaving me with no vengeance." He sighs.
Audria wakes late in the morning. Even as tired as she was, her sleep had been far from restful. This place, this thrice-damned city, was like poison to her. She couldn't explain it, but that made it no less true. She spends a long while in the baths, washing out the dye in her hair, then braiding it. By the time she walks into the common room, it's nearly noon.
Her belly grumbles, but she doesn't eat. She can't eat. She feels as if she is caged, and the walls are slowly closing in. She can't stand it. She can't leave, and she can't stay. Unable to take it any longer, she stomps over to the bar and quietly gets the keep's attention.
"What have you got to calm someone down," she asks as she tries to keep from glancing around the bar.
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Nodding and trying to project her thoughts, "I can do some looking around for him or do some selling. Don't really care. Best bet is to divide some of it up and everyone sell a few things. Though I wanna figure out what the bolt is."
Returning to her room and curling up in-front of the door. Fidgeting and letting out a groan after a few minutes. Standing up and glaring at the room before leaving. Feeling some of the tension leave as soon as she is outside the inn.
Breathing in dirty air and going left to the side of the building. Stepping into the alley and breathing in the familiar reek of waste. Look around to find the best way up before beginning her accent.
Smiling as even more tension leaves at the simple familiarity of being on the roof and way from people. Looking for the top of the fire place before settling down in the small space between the roof and the warm stones that surround the flue.
A quick search of Liza's body, before loading her on to the boat bound for the ghats, discovers a small coin purse... but its contents are meagre, some 20 coins of tarnished silver representing the woman's worldly wealth...
The dwarven priestess, her hands running along the polished wood of the small box, speaks with some sadness, "I know little or nothing of yer story Rigo of the Sharva, you talk of vengeance being stolen from you.... explain yerself, what d'ye mean by it?"
The barman, another halfling with the pinched facial features that seem to characterise the somewhat extended Grast family, grins at Audria's request, "A long night last night then? Maybe taken something that seemed like a good idea at the time... but not so much now? There's a lot of it going around I hear. Well", he laughs, "You're in luck... got just the thing here. It's all natural too - it's a blend of coffee, spices from far off lands, a few oils... and the local water. It'll bring you down with a bump for sure". There is a ceramic pot on the bar, its spout crusted with brown residue... taking it and pouring a healthy serving into a tankard, he pushes the draught towards Audria and winks knowingly, "Go on drink up... this one's free. I too, was young once"
Rigo rubs the side of his nose. "Parents moved from city when I was young, to village few miles away, named Wicken. Five years ago, dire wolf begin attacking villagers and animals. Village blame us, hang mother and father, I get away. I plot and plan to kill those who murder parents. Few weeks ago, Lord Paladin Occularis Thornrage order whole village arrested, put in jail, and kill whole village. Men, Women, Children, all executed in jail."
Moira will use that money to help fund her (Liza's) cremation journey.
She's also ready to go--when the party needs her, she'll be curled up napping in the back of the wagon, which hopefully is inside or near the Circus.
- "Lord Paladin Thornrage you say? Killed the whole village? Ye must be mistaken... Thornrage leads the Knights Occularis, they're devout of Mother Grace and sworn enemies to witchcraft and demon worship... unless, d'ye think there was anything occult about the place? Anything that felt wrong?" the priestess, realising that asking an orphaned son whether a village housing the murderers of his parents was flawed may well not be the right approach, stops her questioning for a moment.
"Sorry there m'lad... but the affair sounds strange - I'd have surely heard something if the Knights Occularis had truly extinguished an entire village. It makes no sense do ye see? What would ye have me do Rigo of the Sharva? I can ask around - I can maybe find out more of the truth but is it any concern of yours anymore? Is it time to move on? What will ye do now?"
"The guards in the prison, overheard them saying that they were scared because the execution of the villagers was signed off on by Lord Paladin Thornrage, and they didn't want to get him mad by messing up. That was before I escaped. I was sentenced to death as well, because I was on the road leaving the area of the village to come here to perform my mission for your kin." He pauses, to let that sink in. "I saw the whole village rounded up by men in armor..." he describes the men who rounded up the vilage, then the prison, and the other prisoners, including Audria, and how she's a teenage girl. "We were freed by someone who wanted a job of us. I cannot leave until I do that job, the finding of a man who vanished on the island in the river. I warn you about asking around, a man who can have a village slaughtered with impunity is not someone to be careless of. If you do find anything you think I should know, I will be on the island in a disgusting circus, seeking the man I must find to pay my life debt." Then he gives the woman a look that would make anyone else reach for a weapon. "Those who kill children, they deserve punishment. Once my life debt is paid, I will find those who rounded up the children and kill them. I will find the ones in the prison who raped them, and I will kill them. I will find the ones who executed the children, and I will kill them. I will find the ones who decided to have the children killed, and kill them." His eyes all but glow and teeth glimmer in the torchlight. "That is what I must do... I had hoped to have a life of peace, as your brother wished. But I must now have a life of a man slayer... a cat of war..."
"Thank you."
Audria tries to smile, but it comes out as a grimace before she downs the takard as quickly as she can, hoping that anything would be better than the pins and needles feeling she had all over.
Salom arrives with Thea at the circus, his dark overcoat and goose-white stockings already muted by the tainted morning air of Castorhage. "What a dreadful day for a circus," he comments needlessly, for this day is as dreadful as any other, for the living and deceased.
Me too !
- "A life debt ye say? Well it is an honourable thing... and then after that? Vengeance for those who could not fight back... and protection for those who are too young to help themselves against the dangers of the world". The priestess is stoic, "This city is an evil place Rigo of the Sharva - you talk of a life's work... my brother would not have wanted this for you but he would have understood". Reaching into a small purse, she pulls out a small pendant on a black leather thong... passing it to Rigo, it is a tiny representation steel warhammer, "This was one of the first things he ever crafted... he would have wanted you to have this".
- At the circus, with the sun hanging high in the sky, Ammos is uncharacteristically, and maybe surprisingly, sulky, My Uncle wants you to work here? Okay... okay, if that's what he wants, I suppose...". He points along the pier towards the halfling Gride, "Obed will know what jobs are needed done around here". Halfway along the pier and having just jumped across from the menagerie boat where the animals seem a little restless, Gride is far more cheery than the erstwhile owner of the Circus Macabre, "So... so you're gonna come and work down here at the Macabre... well we could certainly used some extra hands... tell me, what are your talents?"
Rigo takes the pendant, and then nods, and slowly places it over his neck, and then slips it under the clothes he'd worn, the fur around his neck hiding the black leather thong. "Thank you." He says simply. He bows his head. "My condolences on your loss, Sera." Then he quietly leaves, pulling the hood back up over his head before he heads back to the Circus.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Rigo climbs up the wooden pillar that the pier has, where banners are strung 50 ft up. He climbs up it rapidly, faster than any human could. On the top, he balances on top of the foot thick pillar. From there, he falls off backwards, and grabs one of the guy wires holding up the tent that are tied off to the pillars, and uses it to arrest his fall. He then flips and bounces off a pillar to land on the pier.
His performance isn't perfect, but it's respectable, especially given his bulk and size.
Moira grins a stage grin at Gride, “Oh, I can do a few things! I can sing! I can play drums! I can dance! I can recite! I’m great at making costumes and disguises, I can work a crowd, I can lie convincingly. Don’t believe me? You will. Well, I’ll start with the singing and dancing…”
Moira transforms into her most charismatic performer persona, mixing elements she learned from her court bard mentor and the traveling performers who would stop in her country town, long ago.
Moira's voice rings out clear and loud and lovely, and she does a competent vaudeville shimmy to accompany her lyrics. Her song, fit for Festival, is "I Don't Care!"
I Don't Care by Eva Tanguay 1922 (link to Youtube)
They say I’m crazy, got no sense,
But I don’t care,
They may or may not mean offense,
But I don’t care,
You see I’m sort of independent,
Of a clever race descendent,
My star is on the ascendant,
That’s why I don’t care.
I don’t care, I don’t care,
What they may think of me,
I’m happy go lucky,
Men say I am plucky,
So jolly and care free,
I don’t care, I don’t care,
If I do get the mean and stony stare,
If I’m never successful,
It won’t be distressful,
‘Cos I don’t care.
Some people say I think I’m it,
But I don’t care,
They say they don’t like me a bit,
But I don’t care,
You see I’m sort of independent,
Of a clever race descendant,
My star is on the ascendant,
That’s why I don’t care.
I don’t care, I don’t care,
If people don’t like me,
I’ll try to outlive it,
I know I’ll forgive it,
And live contentedly,
I don’t care, I don’t care,
If people do not try to treat me fair,
There is naught can amaze me,
Dislike can not daze me,
‘Cos I don’t care.
Audria, wondering what was in that drink she had, does her best to ignore the rocking of Festival. When it comes time for her act, she asks for a fiddle and begins playing a reel while dancing it to it. While her performance lacks Moira's flair, it is lively and catch, especially with her stomping out the beat on the narrow wooden seats.
"Reading." Salom replies dryly, suddenly missing his toys and gadgets. "Or, if you need a wagon wheel repaired, I'm a fair hand with a mallet and spike."
Obed Gride grins, an unpleasant display of badly yellowing teeth with prominent incisors, at the talent displayed, "Ha!!! It looks like you could put some of our performers to shame already... you're hired, the lot of you!!! We'll need to redo some of the signs, that's for sure.I can see it now, 'The Circus Macabre presents Castorhage's Great Cat... a display of acrobatics and tumbling set to music'..." Turning his attention to Salom and to Alexis, Gride is polite - if far less enthused, "We can always use more labourers, it's a job just to keep the tents on the pier and the pier attached to the island... we can find work for you, that's for sure".
Pondering the sun in the sky, it is a little past midday, Gride suggests that the group head off into Festival to drum up trade, "...but be back here when the circus opens at dusk, when you may carry on entertaining the crowds. Be careful though, entertainment is a cut-throat business here on Festival... there's other shows who will stop at nothing to ensure that it's them what draw the crowds".
Rigo scratches at his nose. "Need something show which circus we with. Drum up business. Sashes with symbol circus on them?" He says quietly. "Also, miss animals, ok if I sleep on animal boat?" Rigo asks. May be able to find out more about the circus if I'm sleeping here. "If danger from other circus, rest should sleep here as well, not in inn anymore."
He tilts his head. "I know herbal stuff too, did healing duty before."
Smiling at being skipped, "Should be able to manage that." For now.
Once the group leaves, "Are we selling stuff? Cause I would rather that be gone. Gride doesn't expect much from me so I can do some looking around."
Rigo shrugs. "Sounds good to me, sooner it's gone, the better. Better to sell it in multiple groups, 2 or 3 each, with some items, at different places, instead of all at once as one group at one place."
Nodding to Rigo, "Glad you agree."
Salom grins. In this urban menagerie of walking whispers, where ferae naturae is wed to the ferae industrialis with such inexplicable consequence, his is one of the most remarkable of peculiarities.
"Thea can draw a crowd," he replies proudly. "I wager that if we set up on a corner with a painted banner of the Circus's identity and allow her to engage the audience, we'll have half the district eager to see what other delights are on the menu."
"And the other half ready to kill you for the mechanical trinket," Audria mutters under her breath. She hangs on to the fiddle, and grabs the case as if she'd always owned it.
Moira's glad to help out with buying and selling things--as far as making herself conspicuous to draw business for the circus, well, that's a bitter pill to swallow. She'll volunteer to take some of the loot to sell.
If there's time, she might try to look up Grunwaldt and see how he's doing, if he has anything else to add about Uriah Agaric--and to see if that nobleman we saved from Liza honored her loan of a gold piece.
Aishe, who has remained quiet and withdrawn since the night's events, declares that he would prefer to stay at the circus and maybe help with some of the labouring... the prospect of drumming up business at a street corner is not something, he declares, that plays to his talents. Gride murmurs that 'the lads' could use a little help and agrees... he also agrees to Rigo's request, "Ha!!! You wanna sleep on the Menagerie boat along with Samuel, Gripper and the rest of the beasts... I ain't gonna stop you - personally, the idea of trying to catch any sleep with so much teeth and claw around... well it ain't for me!!!" The same courtesy is extended to the rest of the group, "You folks want camp up on the pier, we can probably fit a couple of tents at the end... and you'll wake up to the best view in Festival!!!"
Whilst Gride has been chatting - passing sarcastic comments about the state of the city, the ignorance of the paying clientele, the dreadfulness of other similar circuses and other such concerns - various banners and placards are brought from the building at the entrance to the pier. "We haven't used these in a while but hopefully, with your playing and singing, they should draw attention... and, with it, custom".
...and so, with the decorations of the Circus Macabre ready to be placed at a suitable location, the group head into Festival itself. Through the meandering and jumbled riverfront of Liquorice they travel, looking for the right kind of place - somewhere where folk may hear their song and somewhere where there is enough space to fly their banners... until eventually they find themselves at the quayside of the Chain Ferry - where every half hour or so, the surprisingly large vessel disgorges its cargo of tourists, partygoers and pleasure seekers... what better place to attract custom for the Circus Macabre?
Rigo takes a sash with the circus's symbol on it, and then heads off with the others.
"We would do best not to be seen walking around as a giant group. I suggest two or three groups, a block apart, easy enough to provide backup, too far apart to be an obvious group." Once out of sight, he rubs his chin. "Does it strike anyone else as though 'Circus Macabre' have management that aren't really circus folk, and circus folk who aren't really part of management? And why circus not have enough acts, maybe former management was part of act? Circus make a good place for us to lie low, kind of thinking maybe others think same thing, take over..." He says all this low enough to only carry a foot or so, to those around him, over the sounds of the island.
Audria sets up a little ways from the ferry, playing a lively tune, or rather trying to.
Staring at Moira, "I guess we are going shopping."
Salom and Thea station themselves on a corner with a view of Audria. He helps Thea out of her ostentatious mummer's outfit in order to better showcase her construction. She beats her wings and takes to the air, her engine popping and a bit of black smoke billowing from her exhausts. She bobs to and fro near him, ever mindful of strangers, occasionally spinning around in the air or snatching the hat off a passing tourist, only to throw it back from a safe distance.
Salom smiles and rattles a few copper in a can then attempts to impress the crowds entering Festival: "Ladies and gentlesirs! Boys and Girls! Children of all ages! WELCOME to the one-hundred-and-thirty-fourth edition of the Circus Macabre! The one! The only! The GRRRReatest show on earth! You'll be Astounded! Confounded! Bewildered and Bewitched! For tonight's events..."
Moira's wagon rumbles down the planks of Festival as she keeps a look out for a place to sell things. Eventually, Alexis pops her head out of the back, and slides down next to Moira with a list of all the creepy stuff they've piled up in the back (minus whatever Rigo or others have taken to sell). "Thanks, Alexis! Let's try that pawnshop-looking place over there... damn, who would ever buy that creepy leprechaun? And human teeth? Jeeze, this is going to be hard."
Pausing in her climb to think a moment before answering while figuring out where she wants to sit, "You would be surprised at the things people will by if they think not one will know about it. And if we have to just dump the teeth then so be it."
Lacing her fingers behind her head, "People are are weird and in normal places that is something they hide but here. Well here people seem to embrace it. Kind of freeing and very dangerous. People need rules."
Moira looks bemusedly at the tiny authoritarian perched precariously beside her on the buckboard of the wagon, and counters, "But the 'kind of freeing' part is worth something, ain't it? I get that a lot of these people could probably use a few more rules because it's pretty dangerous. But not rules against being weird. Just rules to help keep the murderers, thieves, extortionists, and corrupt politicians from ruining the weirdness. That said, I kinda want to bury the teeth. I'm weird that way!" She smiles at her young friend.
As everyone breaks apart, and basically ignores everything he said about the circus, Rigo grumbles. Taking a long flowing sash, the Tiger man climbs up the side of a building and begins running from rooftop to rooftop, doing flips in between. He tries to keep an eye on everyone else, but grumbles as he does, not sure why he's bothering.
Shrugging and staring at the older woman while she speaks, "Those teeth were part of a bunch of people and burying people is what you do so it's not that weird."
Tilting her head to the back to stare up at the sky while rubbing the newly shaved sides of her skull, "And people who get to make rules never seem happy just makin a few so there is either way to many rules or to few. But the murderin, stealin, and that other one are gonna happen either way. Cause people are people. We are mean and greedy."
Moira looks around her and considers Alexis' pessimistic view of human nature. Festival is bustling--people in all sorts of configurations of races and genders rush by, working, talking, holding hands, arguing, showing off tattoos and piercings. She sees a watchman chasing an anarchist, a woman weeping alone, a clown entertaining a crowd of dirty children, endless rows of beggars asking for coppers... she is impressed when Alexis points out a particularly skillful pickpocket gliding inconspicuously through the crowd. "Maybe w are mean and greedy, sure. But look at all this life, it is captivating and still somehow repulsive. I want to go back to the quiet country life, where people are just as mean, but you don't need to see them so often... but what if I end up missing them all? I dunno."
Leaning forward and wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. Watching the movement of the blood of the city flowing through the streets and allies. Biting the inside of her cheek to distract for the urge to the leap off the wagon and run from the watchman. "That sounds lonely and really nice. To be able to not need people and only deal with them when you want to."
"It's a dream. But you know me, I've got to have at least a few people around me. You know how much I love to talk. Maybe I should study some wizardry and get a familiar, that might be the best of both worlds--someone to talk to, but not a thievin' murderin' human! Or you could come with, we'll find a hill and put shacks on either side of it, and we can pretend we're alone until we get too lonely, and then we'll have a hilltop picnic. Heck, I've already got this wagon, it's plenty good enough to live in... but it's so hard to find a remote place that's not full of orcs and dragons and bandits. Or worse." Moira pulls up to the shop and parks Ironee and the wagon. "Enough bucolic fantasy daydreams. Let's sell some loot."
The shop that Moira and Alexis finally hitch their cart outside of is a fairly typical Festival building... in so much that it is more thrown together from salvaged metal, assorted flotsam, reclaimed wood and precious little brick. Ramshackle and poorly maintained, it leans against its neighbours for support... as if it were a drunk staggering from one of the island's many drinking dens and incapable of holding itself upright. The sign, flamboyantly painted at one time but faded now, declares this to be the premises of 'Heironymous Von Klumpff - Esteemed Trader of Exotic and Esoteric Ephemera'... with a small note tacked below it stating 'No Credit'.
Pushing the door open sets off a clockwork arrangement involving three bells, a stuffed and noiseless cuckoo and the groaning of a mis-tuned accordion. Shelves upon shelves of assorted objects line the surprisingly large shop - amongst the junk, which is readily identifiable as Festival themed mementoes for visitors to the island, are some genuinely intriguing pieces... an exotic helmet with three eye-pieces, various maps showing Castorhage and other cities through the ages, statues and figurines... some of them rather erotic, some horrific... and some both. It seems that, given the kind of items Alexis and Moira have in their cart, they have come to the right place...
...and, as the accordion music belches it last flatulent tune, a blue-haired gnome - monocle and goatee beard worn in affectation - appears from a back office. His voice is booming, portentous... and totally at odds with his diminutive size, "Welcome!!! Welcome to Von Klumpff's!!!! The greatest store here on Festival... and maybe, dare I say it, in the whole of Castorhage!!! What are you looking for? A gift for a friend, a curio for your memories... or maybe something with history? We have it all here at Von Klumpff's!!!!"
With Moira and Alexis taking the cart, laden with all that was taken from the Ghoul's boudoir with it, the rest of the group find a pair of nearby corners overlooking the square where the chain ferry disgorges its cargo of fun-seekers... and, making sure that they remain in eyesight of each other, they start their afternoon's work. Drawing attention to themselves, and thankful for their disguises as they do so, in the dubious pursuit of establishing the name of the 'Circus Macabre' in the mind of visitors to the island.
They do reasonably well, with a few folk taking leaflets and vaguely promising to come to the Circus at some point, for a few hours... that is until a pair of halflings, both dressed in the uniform of the Office of the Watch, approach Audria and Rigo, "Say... you got a license to be playing that instrument miss? Because me and my fellow officer, we haven't seen you down at the Watch Tower... and, if there's one thing the good captain won't stand for, it's folks not paying their dues".
Rigo does a back flip, catches his claws on the side of the building, and then flips again to land next to Audria. He bends way way down to get eye level with the halflings. "Work for Circus. Circus pay dues." He shoves a circus flier into each halfling's hand. "You come circus. Circus be good, lots to see, animals, music, singers, one singer, two throats, harmony very good. If no think Dues paid, take up with circus Owner, Mr. Grast. Sure Mr. Grast be wanting know if your boss no think dues paid. Sure Mr. Grast take care of boss, fast. We no in charge of Circus, so wrong people talk to. You talk Mr. Grast, Mr. Grast deal with you."
Audria lets out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when Rigo takes charge.
"Y-yes, I was told that the circus would take care of any expenses or fees that came about as part of my work for them."
Moira smiles at the good fortune of landing at just the right kind of establishment. "Greetings, Mr... am I addressing Mr. Von Klumpff? I'm Moria Keening, and this is my associate Alexis. We are here to do a little trading, if you will. We've got a wagonload of very interesting curios ourselves, just the sorts of things to restock your shelves. But before we get into what we have... what's the story behind the three-eyed helmet there?"
The gnome bows extravagantly at his customers, a gesture that is half etiquette and half showmanship, "Bartleby Von Klumpff at your service... and you are traders? aficionados? collectors? Enchanted to meet such charming ladies - and with such fine taste to find this oyster within the silt of this island!!!"
Taking Moira by the hand, he leads her towards the shelf with the peculiar helmet. Picking it from its low perch and handing it to Alexis for her to examine, he tells an elaborate story of an explorer, "Born in Toiltown he was, a man of no breeding and meagre means, Erick Hamsbottom grew up with restless feet and a need to see the world... well he did... he did. Stowed away on a ship of the Imperial Navy and that, once he was found, should have been the end of him... keel-hauled, hung and then flung into the depths - just for the sport of whatever admiral Erick had the misfortune of being discovered by. Now I know what you're going to say... that's a short story and it don't tell of this helmet. Well, Erick sank to the bottom of the sea they say... to be found and rescued by mermaids".
Von Klumpff grins, "No longer constrained by the boundaries between sea and land, Erick swore revenge... travelled he did, through the oceans, through far away countries and some say beyond the edge of the world. It was there, in the twilight lands where the sun barely rises that our hero encountered a seer... a strange creature that had lived a full aeon and could see the strands of fate ahead. I'm sad to say that there was one thing that this wizened creature hadn't foreseen - Erick's steel removing head from atop its shoulders... and that", he points at the helmet, "tumbling to the floor with the seer's head still in it..."
"Well Erick's adventures continued for a few years more before fate brought him back towards seas patrolled by the Imperial Navy... his revenge was bloody and with no mercy... and, after one black night of murder, he pronounced himself captain of an Imperial Dreadnought. Sailed back to Castorhage and swore fealty to whichever mad king was in power at that time, he did... and quite the career he charted for himself..."
Von Klumpff takes the helmet and places it back on the shelf with some sadness, "...his story ends in a cheap whorehouse on this here island - with a blade between his shoulders and his lifeblood trickling downwards towards Sister Lyme". His story told, Von Klumpff claps his hands in anticipation, "Now... you say you have goods to trade? Curios and the like?"
The halflings grimace when Rigo mentions Grast, "Marren's boy down at the Liquorice piers? That lad's a damned disgrace to the name but what can you do..." the taller of the diminutive officers winks at Rigo, "Family is family... now we can't have you disturbing the peace here at the Chain Ferry. Not to be rude miss", looking towards Audria, "but we've had a few complaints about your playing. Head further inland, up the Seethe or something... and next time, come to the Watch Tower and get a permit, Commander Edrin Grast will be happy to oblige".
Before leaving, the officers point towards Salom, "If he's with you, I'd watch yourselves... there's been murmurings on the grape vine of a crazy man with a valuable clockwork - if you know what I mean".
Rigo nods. "Watch Tower. Circus no tell us. Sorry. Come next time. Ask for Commander Edrin Grast. Go in land." He repeats the instructions several times under his breath.
When they point toward Salom, Rigo nods. "Him crazy, yes."
Moira's eyes widen in appreciation of the tale. "That's amazing! You spin quit the yarn, Mr. Von Klumpff. Is the helm magic?" But she also gestures toward the wagon. "Let's chat while we work--I have some stuff to show you. Some of it should fit in nicely here... and maybe we can do some trading once you take a gander at what we've got."
She and Alexis work their way down the inventory that the young rogue had put together:
-a fancy bottle of perfume,
-a mangled emerald-green dress with a fancy mouchoir in one pocket,
-a set of false teeth made from hippo ivory,
-a bald kitten floating in cloudy vinegar within a bell jar, the kitten is impaled upon a somewhat elegantly forged crossbow bolt.
-a ceramic cow with silver horns,
-a silver cut-glass claret jug depicting the moon defecating on the sun
-a papier-mâché spectacle case with bronze-lined gargoyle filigreed reading glasses within
-a rather ghoulish papier-mâché leprechaun doll with glass eyes, moveable arms, real hair beard, and velvet gloves.
-And a bunch of mirrors, some that were broken but I assume the frames might be worth something since GM Zed said some are 'clearly worth a significant amount of money - some are plainly decorated whilst some, the largest of them, are framed with baroque depictions of nymphs in various erotic poses.'
-Also I recall a bunch of rings being mentioned.
"I told her to keep the key in E flat, but she has a tendency to go a little sharp," Salom offers cheerfully as he approaches with Thea on his shoulder. She holds a small sack of copper bits offered by the crowd, repeatedly sorting them, putting them back in the bag, then going over them again. "It appears we've been misinformed. Our sincerest regrets, officers. We shan't tarry any longer, for we are also expected back at the Circus for the night's entertainment. Will you be in attendance this evening?"
"Crazy, yes, him crazy. Clockwork more sane than him." Rigo mumbles as Salom walks up.
Quietly listening to the story while turning the helmet around in her hands. Sounds like Rigo.