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The Obelisk Lounge’s speakeasy is dim and smoky, as it is most nights. Thanks to a performance by the much more popular Voodoo Slim and his Necrodancers at the dance hall upstairs, however, tonight’s performance by the Black Starling is a sparsely populated affair.
A lone man bustles about behind the bar, cleaning cups and serving drinks to whoever wanders through.
An orc and a dwarf sit in the back smoking cigarettes, bursts of laughter occasionally coming from them. Judging from the empty mugs on the table, and the amount of cigarette butts in the ashtray, they’ve been here a while.
Two people huddle around a table near the bar. Neither look completely human, but in the dim light it’s hard to exactly tell what they might be.
Sitting up front is a younger human couple, eagerly listening to the Black Starling sing, her voice like crushed velvet and smoky bourbon.
Stranger characters sit around the place as well, a skeleton in a well-made but deeply out of style suit kicks their feet up onto a chair, and a crow perched on a table occasionally dips its beak into a glass of something amber.
Despite the quiet show, the Black Starling is as mesmerizing as she always is. She sings a song about heartache and heartbreak. The lyrics aren’t particularly original, but it sounds like a message straight from a long-forgotten lover when it comes from her.
You’ve arrived at the same time as a few others, but the disparate cast of characters sitting around the room have left but two unoccupied tables at the center of the room. Seems you’ll have to share.
Zandora moves to the left table quickly. The Black Starling! One of her favorite shows. When she gets to the table she grins at Rigel.
So, are we here for business, or just to enjoy?
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Ratòn Pèrez flits on over to the table on the right. The tooth fairy was charmingly ugly, like a Boston Terrier, with grey-blue skin, bulging eyes and a large mouth absolutely crammed with teeth, seemingly at random, each one a different size or shape, and yet when it closed its mouth, all those teeth fit neatly away. It wore a small suit, ribbed with strange red cords, and hung a satchel around its neck, easily the same size as itself.
Setting down gently on the tabletop, it shouts at passing servers until it convinces them to bring it a thimble and a bottle of something.
Its savings are running thin. Needed a job. Need a job. Need a job, now. What am I without my work?
"I need that thimble now!" it shouts, eager to drown the thoughts. The curious guilt. What use or purpose did guilt have anyway?
The floor creaked, but didn't give way, apparently designed to withstand such punishment. The pinstriped monstrosity, walked across the floor, the clip-clop of his cloven hooves a sharp staccato against the background sounds of the place. The reddish-brown haired minotaur, ran the fingers of his right hand across his greased mane, laying the few rogue hairs down flat again. With his left, he deftly reached into the breast pocket of his vest and drew forth a golden pocket watch, which he he promptly opened by pressing the winding stem. He checked the time, nodded, and moved towards the nearest of the two mostly empty tables. "A tooth fairy," he thought, "disgusting creatures." He wasn't sure what the creature at the other table actually was, but it had to be better than this choice. He moved towards the table, and gestured towards the humanoid female with his hands, and pointed to the chairs, "are these reserved?" He went into his coat, and pulled out a long cigar, which he stuck into his snout, unlit, and commenced chewing on the end.
The singing of the sultry starlet washed over the young man as he took a sip of his pale drink, the burn of the alcohol bringing a slight grimace to his face even as it faded do a dull, pleasant warmth as it slid down his throat. The light of the place was both dimmed and enhanced by the smoky haze, the fog scintillating even as it obscured.
Taking his eyes off the singer, he turned his attention to his companion as he sat at the open table on the left with her, his gaze roaming about briefly with a rather skeptical look on his face. Rigel's return smile to Zandora was much more reserved, taking another sip of his drink before setting the glass on the table. "We always are working, darling. That doesn't mean we can't enjoy an evening out."
Rigel's dark eyes settled on hers for a moment, her lovely features so close a contrast to the shimmering view of the Starling on stage. His gaze trailed down her face, her pale neck in opposition to the dark, bluish hair around it. He could just faintly see the vein pulsing there, the woman's excitement about the Lounge evident. He smirked at himself, tearing his vision away from her neck to look up at the lumbering minotaur that had just walked up.
He thought about responding, but the half-man had addressed Zandora, so he just smiled politely at the brute and waited for her to respond. Although Rigel doubted the minotaur was a mover and shaker in the city, he had the look about him of someone who was employed by those that were.
Flapping down the stairs, a curious creature lands on the bar. A dog-sized* blue dragon...wearing a studded leather tuxedo. Most curious. It watches the bartender, and waits for his attention. Once he looks at it, it says in common "Do you have Kumis? I'll take a glass. Warm, if posssible." once it has its glass, it wraps both hands around it and flaps over to an empty seat next to the minotaur, gently setting its glass on the table before alighting on a chair. Looking around, it says "Good day. Interesssting group you've got here."
*Like, coyote size. Not a chihuahua, but not a St. Bernard either.
Zandora smiled again. Work *and* play was always best anyway.
Seeing the minotaur walk up and ask about the table, she responded
No, not reserved, feel free.
She gestured at the seats, and then saw ... was that a baby dragon? come over to join them. She wondered if the minotaur and dragon had come together.
Politely, she smiled and nodded to the dragon
Good day to you as well.
Anyone observing her would only see an excited young, innocent woman, but being underestimated was her superpower, after all.
She didn't stare. She was paying attention, at least overtly, to the Black Starling, and greatly enjoying the show. Even so, her brief glances were practiced, noting important details about the other people in the room.
Kolaiah took to chairs, and with practiced ease spun them around side by side, and sat his frame down across the both of them. "This place is a little crowded this evening."
Rigel was rather impressed by the sizable creak that came from the chairs even though the minotaur doubled up, but he was truly surprised when the small, blue dragon came strolling up and made his remarks.
"It just got more interesting, it seems." The young man chuckled with good humor, noting the reactions of both the minotaur and dragon before continuing to address the hulking bull-headed creature. "Not particularly crowded...it's just that most everyone is feeling rather anti-social this evening."
He gestured to the table nearby where the tooth fairy sat alone, along with all the other tables with mostly empty chairs. "It's a shame, really. You never know what kinds of fascinating people you might meet if you don't say hello."
He turned his attention to the Starling for a few moments, enjoying the singing, while briefly glancing at Zandora to find her enjoying herself and still trying to take note of everything else going on. Good. "What brings you two gentlemen to the Lounge this evening?"
"I am here for the atmosphere, and to pick up cows."
On cue, Zandora touched Rigel's hand, smiling at him as though reading his mind, and then rose in a smooth motion and moved over to the table with the tooth fairy, sitting there instead.
Hello, she said amiably.
My name is Zandora. What brings you here tonight?
Ratón doesn't immediately notice Zandora, even as she greets the fae, busy as it is snapping at a server to hurry back with its thimble and bottle of milk.
As the bottle is set down it smiles widely, teeth of different shapes and shades glinting in the light. Finally, it answers.
"Getting drunk. Trying not to remember," it mutters, flying up to the top of the bottle and lapping away the cream. Despite the bottle being two or three times the fae's size, it easily lifts the bottle in its hands and pours itself a shot into the thimble.
It flutters down and slams the milk back, licking the inside and out of the thimble before turning to the aasimar and introducing itself, offering a tiny hand no larger than the tip of her little finger. "Ratón Pérez. Used to call me the 'Tooth Mouse,' yeah, they did, yeah. May have heard of me, but can't imagine anyone saying good things. Not these days, no. Gone, gone are the days of celebration, gone, gone like tears on the ground. Evaporate fast, does a little water, woof, especially in heat like this."
Walking slowly over to the milk bottle, it pours itself another shot before tentatively offering one to Zandora.
Zandora accepts some milk with thanks, taking a sip and then saying
I know it is often easier to forget, but sometimes it is better to get things off your chest and out of your brain so they can't poison you anymore. ... I'm interested in your story, if you are willing to share. Why did they call you the Tooth Mouse?
She leans back, still interested and her attention still focused on Ratón, but also peripherally enjoying the music of the Black Starling, and happy that Rigel had chosen this place tonight.
Rigel smiled as Zandora rose, giving his hand a light touch before moving over to the next table. He watched her walk for just a moment before turning to his current company, grinning at Kolaiah as the minotaur mentioned his reasoning for being there, he took a sip of his drink, letting it dangle loosely in his hand while he said, taking another glance at Zandora before grinning slyly, "I hear you there, my friend. The company of a lady is second to none. But in the mean time, tell me about yourself."
Reaching across the table with his free hand, he said, "Rigel Pordyras, good to meet you."
The fairy laughs, showing three or six canine teeth and a molar, dead center. It steps behind the bottle of milk, but then? Nothing. Until suddenly, Zandora feels feet on her collar and a set of pliers on a back molar.
*
Ratón takes the plier off the tooth without pulling it, and the pliers deform into fairy dust. It flutters down to its spot on the table and pours itself another thimbleful of milk.
"Slip in unseen, small and quiet, like mouses. Take the teeth, right out of their skull. Offenders learn their lesson, don't repeat, or next time I break their fingers and knees, or, or, maybe they meet someone even worsener than me, yes, yes, maybe murderers next time."
The fae shakes its head and shoots the thimble. Drunkenly, it pours itself another.
"But not anymore. Now the Tooth Mouse just a mouse. Peaceful, innocent. With teeth."
Drahkn looks up at the man who had spoken to him. His wings rise and flare, in what looks a bit like a shrug. His hands don't leave his glass. "It'ss quieter down here. Easssier to think."
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Smiling at the fairy as though she weren't bothered in the slightest by the invasive intrusion into her mouth, Zandora calmly says
I'm impressed. What a useful skill. So were you working in law enforcement, or an enforcer for a criminal organization then? Either way, that must have been interesting. Why are you sad though? Did you have to give it up? Does a peaceful life bother you so much?
The fae laughs derisively, wagging a finger. "Not yet, Zandora," says Ratón, "I have told you much and you have said very, very little. So is my turn now." It idly sips at a thimble of milk, smiling slightly.
"Who are you, how you know this pretty boy you come in with, and why is he flirting with stripe-a-deed Lucenzo toady?"
Zandora smiles.
Okay, that's fair. Questions for questions.
Zandora glances back at the table where Rigel is talking.
The very pretty boy is Rigel. A friend from work. And I have no idea why he is bantering with the minotaur, but I am quite certain he is not flirting... I imagine if he chooses to flirt with one of them it would be the dragon. Greater potential, greater allure, I would think.
Zandora regains some interest in Ratón after just dismissing it as an offensive bully after the tooth incident. Not fully focused on itself after all. She wonders if there is more there than she had initially assumed.
Any other questions for me? Definitely don't feel like you have to share your story if you don't want to. I'm here to enjoy the Black Starling. Witty banter is merely a side benefit.
Kolaiah extends a massive hand and accepts the one offered by Rigel. "Name's Kolaiah. I am in the enforcement and protection business." He gives a bovine smile at his joke. He points at the other table, "your friend left you high and dry huh? Need a drink to drown your sorrows?"
Rigel listened to the small dragon's response to his greeting, cocking his head slightly. It seemed the creature liked the bustle of other people, or rather beings, around him, but still preferred a certain amount of quiet and solitude. Interesting. "Having lots to ponder this evening, I take it? I get it...the Starling sings like a dream, but her songs are introspective in nature. Turns the gaze inward." He raised his glass up to the dragon in an air toast before taking a sip, setting it down on the table before leaning forward and extending his hand to the minotaur (with the previous greeting).
"Well met, Kolaiah." He leaned back in his chair, making a show of glancing at the bullman's wide shoulders before nodding. "I imagine you are, at that. You have a steady employer, or more of an at your service type?"
Rigel glanced over at the other table Kolaiah indicated, watching Zandora trade words with the fairy thing. She seemed to be doing well, so far. Turning his attention back to the minotaur, he calculated which direction he should go in his answer. Shrugging, he said, "She's a curious thing, always wanting to talk to those who seem to have a story." Smirking as he looked back at the minotaur, he continued, "I guess I've become rather boring to her. So if you're offering, sure, let's have a drink to the whims of women." Picking up his glass, he tipped it high and drank the remainder, giving a satisfied sigh as he slapped it back on the table.
His business out back with the House at it's completion and his responsibilities done for the day, Milo casually makes his way from the Lounge's operational facilities through the doors the staff use and onto the floor. The Blackbottoms had a healthy trade with many of the establishments in Crossroads, the Obelisk Lounge included. Sliding up to the bar with a bottle of his Ash Cask Rye still in hand, he drops a coin on the top and looks to the bartender, "Hey Mic, just loaded you up out back and settled up with Janice. Quiet night down here - everyone up top? It's a shame. Can I get a few glasses from you, thinking about making some new friends this eve."
Gazing around the room, he notes the singles and pairs scattered about. 'Those are all here on their own business-' he pauses as he noticed the rogue's gallery moving between the pair of tables toward the middle of the room. 'A minotaur, a dragon, a faeling, and a pair that clearly aren't human, all hosting a social in the midst of the Lounge. Oh, this is just too good to pass up. If nothing else, I'll have a story to tell the lads tomorrow. And what will it cost me, this bottle? Surely got more of that...' the thought trails off as he wanders toward the assembled group in the middle of the floor.
Moving in time with the rhythm of the Black Starling's voice, the young halfling makes his way between the two tables. The halfling is dressed as one might expect a dock or factory foreman, in simple grey-tan trousers and a brown vest, with a linen shirt under it and a flat cap tucked under his arm . His curly brown hair is undercut and slicked back with pomade fading from the day's labors, and neatly trimmed mutton chops chase down his cheeks. He is a handsome fellow, if given to a bit of a weathered look despite his youthful visage.
Looking from one to the next, he hoists a bottle of rich brown spirits in one hand, then a clutch of glasses in the other. Speaking clearly but lowly, so as not to interrupt the performer, Milo's words come forth slow and smooth, with a charming drawl, "Ladies and gentlemen, I trust you are all enjoying the performance. If you don't mind the intrusion, I wonder if you'd all be interested in sampling the newest release from Blackbottom Spirits, our Ash Barrel Rye Whiskey. Hints of vanilla juxtapose against the spicy rye with a balanced oaky body leading to a surprisingly smooth finish. A pleasure neat, or treated to the barkeep's capable creativity, if I do say so myself."
A keen eye notes the subtle bulge of a pistol tucked within the vest.
"Who are you," it asks again, soberly noting her earlier refusal of the question, "what is very boy Rigel pretty, where do you work together? Doing what? Any hobbies? How do you take your eggs?" It continues to ask increasingly banal queries as it sips its milk, its voice muddling as it does so.
"No," it responds to the halfling.
Kolaiah considered the halfling's question before responding, "I don't suppose you have any bull-sized mugs for that stuff? If you do, then I am absolutely in. You see, I need to toast with this gentleman here,"[b/] and he gestures to Rigel, [b]"but I fear I am out of drink." He continues on, "do you have any of the fresh herbs and grasses that the establishment is well known for? If so, I'll have a bowl of the mixed greens please."
As the halfling approaches with his offer, Zandora turns to him with a smile and says
No, but thank you for the offer... we're drinking milk.
Then, turning back to the fairy, she says
Who am I? I am Zandora, as I mentioned earlier. Is that not enough? Hmm. I am what you see before you. An Aasimar of human ancestry, if that part is not apparent.
I prefer my eggs over medium, with the whites completely solid and not clear anymore, but with the yolk still slightly runny. At anyplace that cannot accomplish the proper balance however, I will just order them scrambled.
Hobbies are a bit more nebulous. I enjoy reading, witty banter, good music... and high quality equipment.
As she says the last phrase, she almost unconsciously reaches up briefly to touch her single earring, a beautiful prismatic crystal set into a platinum bezel, but quickly turns her attention back to the fairy.
As far as Rigel goes, I think those questions can wait until we either know each other better, or you offer more in trade.
She grins, and then leans back with her eyes closed, listening to the music.
The barkeep nods to Milo, "Yeah, well Voodoo Slim puts on one hell of a show. I'd be up there myself if I weren't covering for Stewart. You know how he gets sometimes" He retrieves a few glasses from behind the bar, sliding them over to Milo.
As Milo takes a seat, one of the servers comes over, saying to Kolaiah, "Well, kitchen's closing soon, but I'll see what I can..."
Their sentence never finishes.
The dim, slightly quiet bar becomes a whole lot quieter as everything goes black and all sound seems to drain from the air.
A few moment pass...nothing. Strangely, the air is filled with the scents of brimstone, cigar smoke, and a faint note of expensive pomade.
As quickly as the silence and darkness enveloped the place, sound and light returns. It's quieter than before, noticeably so.
It doesn't take long to identify why. The Black Starling lies on the stage, unmoving, wisps of smoke rising from her chest.
Zandora jumps up and runs to the stage to see if the Black Starling can be saved.
Then, if no one else is there to help after 6 seconds, stop the bleeding if possible... if there is anything left there.
If she's totally gone, she just cradles the Black Starling's head in her lap, mourning the loss of such talent, and wishing that she had gotten to know her better.
Kolaiah stands, draws his axe, and takes a long look around the crowd to see if he spots anyone who might have done this...
Ratòn swoops in, arriving just before Zandora. It flits around the body, staring one way and another and trying to memorize things before it's too late. After a short moment it zips down to Zandora's knee.
"I would like to take a tooth," it whispers, "just in case we need to have part of the body later. Could you please help me hide what I am doing from the room?"
It shortly reconsiders and tells Zandora, "Never mind. Grab a lock of her hair. Less suspicious."
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By the time Zandora reaches the Black Starling, she’s already gone. It’s not hard to tell what killed her though. A handprint is burned into her chest, right above her heart, the source of the smoke.
Nobody’s missing from the crowd, though the two unidentified humanoids seem as though they might be making moves to leave.
The couple in front yelps in fear and surprise, one of them going to comfort the other who begins crying. Mic, the bartender, steps out from behind the counter, ”What in the...Oh my god.” He staggers back before saying to Milo, ”I...I gotta let Mr. DeFontaine know ‘bout this. I’ll be back.” Unless anyone makes a move to stop him, Mic leaves to get the authorities.
The skeleton’s relaxed demeanor fades as the crow lets out a startled squawk.
Ratón can’t dredge up any memories of someone who fits the bill.
Still saddened, Zandora realizes that the Black Starling is gone, but switches into professional mode and examines the handprint.
After listening to the fairy, she nods and lifts up the Starling's head in a show of grief to allow the cutting of a lock of hair from the underside of the hair towards the back of the neck.
Oh Starling, what happened?
She looks over at Rigel, guessing that he might notice what she is doing, but doubts that anyone else will be watching the fairy.
A little put off by the dismissal of his offer from the fae and the blue-skinned woman, he was just about to offer a double pour to the mighty minotaur when the darkness subsumed the room. As the light returned, his eyes caught the fallen singer. "The Starling has fallen!"
Listening to Mic's words, he nodded, "Okay, I can, umm, keep an eye on things. Is anyone a physic?" He calls out the latter words to the room, though in truth expects little response. Turning, he realizes the blue-skinned woman is already at her side. "You, is there any chance she can be saved?"
Responding to the brewer halfling guy, Zandora says with tears in her eyes
No... she's gone.
Kolaiah moves towards the two humanoids apparently trying to flee. He bellows at them, "stand still you two. You don't leave unless Kolaiah says you can leave."
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Rigel gave the halfling newcomer a curious look, wondering if the man had come in so flamboyantly on a dare. A quick glance around didn't reveal any snickering companions, so he assumed the man was legit. When Kolaiah indicated that the proffered drink might come from the newcomer, Rigel sat back, flicking his eyes over at an empty seat before glancing over at Zandora briefly.
The lights then went out, the young man's exceptional vision not giving him anything in the room. Feeling a little panicked, as he always had been able to see in any room before, he reached forward to feel for the table in front of him. Then suddenly, the lights came back on and the Starling tragically lay upon the floor.
As his aasimar companion leapt to the aid of the fallen singer, Rigel stood up quickly and scanned the crowd, seeing the two trying to slink away that the minotaur was storming after. He narrowed his eyes, attempting to see if there was anybody else suspect that wasn't acting as overtly shady as the duo.
When the darkness clears and he sees the fallen singer, Drahkn sets his bottle down and flaps over to the downed singer, circling above the aasimar woman. Odd wound, that. And what’s that smell? Brimstone, I think.
As the Minotaur blocks the exit, Drahkn flaps over that way, to lend his assistance. Grabbing ahold of the doorframe with his talons, he hangs bat-like from it, his arms folded across his chest. ”I’d do what he sayssss.” the little dragon hisses, electric sparks crackling from his mouth as he does so.
The rest of the crowd seems to be in genuine, if substantially varying, states of distress.
Drahkn briefly ponders what he knows of the paranormal, realizing several things. This didn't feel like darkness so much as it did temporary blindness. The smells don't ring a bell, but the handprint might be connected to some sort of occult ritual.
As Kolaiah and Drahkn draw closer to the shadowy figures, they come into better view. Two tieflings, one with small horns a scar down his face, the other with skin the color of an old bruise and a short, ratlike tail. The horned tiefling cradles his hand in his jacket, looking nervously around the room.
The bruised tiefling cranes her neck to look up at Kolaiah before replying, her voice thick with a Burrows accent, "Whaddya want us here for?"
”I would think that question answers itself, under the circumstances. Let’s see those hands,” directs the Minotaur brandishing his weapon menacingly.
Thinking that the minotaur and dragon were sufficiently intimidating to keep the two fleeing suspects in check, Rigel stepped forward and hopped up to the stage, bypassing the corpse of the Starling and heading towards the back to see if he could pick up a trail back there or find anyone who might have seen anything.
The young man glanced back at Zandora, motioning her to come with him. She was clever enough to know that if she felt more needed where she was she should stay. Once Rigel was out of sight of most of the patrons, he reached with his right hand inside his navy blazer and pulled out his Colt 1903, keeping the weapon aimed down as he proceeded.
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"We should get our stories straight," mutters the tooth fairy. "Write them down, so as to not influence the way we each remember them. Police coming. Maybe Neighborhood Watch too." It shivers and flutters up to the stairs, trying to see if the situation has changed at all up there.
As Rigel passes and motions to her, Zandora carefully lays the Starling's head back on the stage and gets up.
Although she doesn't look dirty or sullied in any way from her time with the body, Zandora nevertheless instinctually casts prestidigitation to clean off any blood or burn smell left over, and then catches up with Rigel, not sure if his plan was to investigate or leave before the authorities show up.
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The horned tiefling nudges the tailed one, and in an instant she takes off for the door behind the bar.
The horned one stays behind, taking his hand out of his coat and swinging at Kolaiah with a charred, blackened, and rapidly igniting fist!
Though partially on fire, it's not burning enough to get through the minotaur's fur, and does nothing to the bull man.
The other takes off running, getting behind the bar.
Hearing the commotion, Zandora turns, takes in the situation, and shoots an arrow at the one that attacked the Minotaur.
Rigel turned back at the commotion, his eyes widening as the one tiefling tried to beat a hasty retreat while the other provided cover. Seeing the smoking fist of the one that at least had a passing resemblance to the damage done to the Starling, the young man's eyes cut over to where the second one was running.
With his free hand, Rigel pulled out a small vial from his coat pocket, tossing it back. Almost instantly he felt invigorated, his feet practically twitching they were ready to move. Seeing his companion fire an arrow at the flame-fister, he made ready to start darting after the other one.