Yash…
Yash roams the cramped byways of the bazaar, peeking into different stalls, and listening. At first, it is just noise – a tumult of languages both familiar and strange, all sounding at once. Slowly his ears begin to differentiate voices from the chaos. Certain voices periodically rise above the general din before falling back into it. Sorting through it - to find languages he is remotely familiar with – takes time and effort. As the evening wears on and the crowds abate somewhat, Yash listens to the merchants and wagoners talk as they load, unload, and discuss where their wagons have been and where they plan to go next.
Full night is upon Threshold by the time Yash, head buzzing, is ready to sleep. He returns to the caravan to bed down under the open sky and consider what he has learned at the bazaar:
1. Threshold has its own common tongue called Canto. It’s a highly organized and concise language that pulls words from many other languages.
2. Being a wagoner or merchant is considered ‘public service’ and while they profit from their work, it is largely done to benefit the community – bringing in needed supplies through barter and trade.
3. Threshold visits some locations more than once. The merchants keep a ‘shopping list’ of goods they try to acquire in specific locations.
The Next Day…
… breaks under clear blue skies and an early spring breeze with a bit of salt tang from the sea. Being in the sun is pleasant but being in the shade of any building is a little chilly at this hour. Gulls cry above the docks as the stevedores unload a newly arrived boat and the kitchen at the Slattern roars to life, gently waking sleeping guests (and anyone on the dock) with the smell of cooking meats, baking breads, roasting tomatoes, and coffee.
At the Slattern, Xing wakes up with a groan, feeling the cumulated stiffness from yesterday’s battles. The feather bed is so comfortable, it makes a winning argument for her resting for the remainder of the day.
Also at the Slattern, Senna rises from her not-quite-as-comfortable bed which was made significantly less comfortable by her snoring porcine bedmate. She regards herself in the mirror briefly before struggling to make her tangled mane of brown hair more orderly, or at least to get it out of her face. In the end, she knows it is a war against chaos that she can’t win so she throws the whole mess into a pony-tail, splashes water on her face, and heads out…
At the caravan, Cookie and Yash rise in their own ways and times.
Behind the Red Door… Sabelina drags herself from the arms of sleep only to find she is encumbered by the arms and bodies of sleeping strangers. Well, not exactly strangers. Ever quick with math, Sabelina realizes that there are three others sharing the bed with her and they are all, uniformly, nude. Between the wine and something called champagne, she does vaguely recall their threesome got a couple additional revelers at one point. Sabelina clearly recalls having four skilled mouths on her simultaneously… but the rest was a bit of blur.
Extricating herself from this pack of cuddly kittens without waking anyone was proving to be a task. Then she noticed Violetta, in a dressing gown, standing at the foot of the bed. The half-elf’s amused hazel eyes watch her struggle while she sips at a cup of tea. Taking pity on the encumbered bladeswoman, Violetta pushes a few legs aside and offers her a hand, pulling her straight out of the pile. She puts a robe on Sabelina and accompanies her to the other end of the suite. Violetta offers her a seat at a small table by the open window with a delicate gesture of her hand. A tea service is ready. She says quietly, to avoid waking the others, ”Would you like some tea, or would you rather leave?”
"Tea please. A cup sounds wonderful. Thank you."
Sabelina is feeling slightly, pleasantly, dazed and bemused. She's also drowsy, the day before had been an action-packed one, and the night following hadn't involved much sleep, more a somewhat prolonged nap.
She's also happy to be sitting with Violetta calmly and quietly for a little while. She's a little... what's the right word? Smitten? Smitten seems right. It' true of both Violetta and Donal as well.
There wasn't much talking the night before, and now Sabelina is curious to know more about the new objects of her affection. When she has her tea, Sabelina takes a sip and leans in slightly toward Violetta so she can speak very softly and not disturb anyone.
"You were right. Last night is something I will never forget. It was wonderful, revelatory. How did you learn all the things you know?"
Violetta offers Sabelina a sultry smile and a biscuit to go with her tea. Her answer, when it comes, is light but also earnest. "Much practice, Sable. May I call you Sable? It seems appropriate given how soft and silky you are... I'm a good deal older than I look. And I have been fortunate enough to study with some artists who are gifted at giving pleasure. I learn what I can. If you plan to make a career of anything, you shouldn't half-ass it, in my opinion."
Mama Cookie is up just as the sun is greying the eastern horizon. As she's gotten older she's noticed that sleep is less and less important. Where she used to sleep a full 8 hours every night, now she gets by on 4-5.
She briskly gets the fire going and breakfast bread in the steel oven-pot. She mixes water and some of the older vegetables and meat scraps into a hearty leftover stew as the bread bakes. By the time the children and waggoneers wake they are met with a duel in their noses between the Slattern and Mama's cook-fire.
Lady appears nearly half way through breakfast. She walks slowly toward a shallow water bowl and starts drinking. Every sound sees her heckles flutter and her tail twitch.
She sees and feels Mama's mix of displeasure, amusement, and pity. Mama doesn't have to say anything. Lady gives her an indignant huff and mutters, I haven't decided if that pig is a bad influence yet, no. I need to remember yesterday first. uuugghh my head...
She staggers back to her place on Mama's sleeping mat and flops over.
Sabelina smiles bashfully when asked about the nickname.
"I like Sable. I've never had a nickname before."
Turning more earnest she replies to the rest of what Violetta has said.
"I've already taken your advice to heart. I'm going to be a very well known author who chronicles her experiences with the exotic, strange, and fantastic. I will go to the place, find the thing, solve the problem, or whatever it may be that has been put before me. My blade and my wits are my tools. Then I will report the story to the legions of readers I will have."
She pauses for a moment to reflect, and her expression shows considerable satisfaction.
"I suppose yesterday was my first day on the job. That's a little sooner than I expected, but the day was a smashing success."
Again directing her thoughts back to Violetta, Sabelina asks
"Have you and Donal been in Thesholold very long? I'd think if you and Donel were in a great city like Absalon or Oppara, the fortunes you could make would be hard to imagine. Fabulous wealth at your fingertips given your skills!"
Upon waking, the caravanners face a conundrum. Eat Mama’s home-made meal or spend a few coins on the local fare while seeing faces they haven’t been staring at for the past three weeks. Most of them, including the caravan’s mistress, decide to eat at Mama’s cook-fire. With profuse apologies to the aged halfling, a couple wagoners and laborers instead head over to the Slattern.
As they eat side by side, the caravan mistress speaks with Cookie , ”So, we’ve got our supplies and food sorted. We even made a bit of coin trading in a large portion of that crab meat. The caravan needs to think about moving on. We’ve got stops to make. We’ll spend today resting up and give the animals proper time to recover. Tomorrow morning, we’re back on the trail. You’re welcome to come along, if you’re of a mind to. You’ve both been invaluable. We’d love to have you along as part of our crew. I can even pay you some wages when we get to our next waypoint… but it’s up to you.”
Violetta smiles at Sabelina’s recounting of her future career. ”When you write about me, feel free to lie and say I had the power to make a dozen arch-clerics forsake their vows with a single kiss.” She chuckles lightly.
"Have you and Donal been in Threshold very long? I'd think if you and Donal were in a great city like Absalom or Oppara, the fortunes you could make would be hard to imagine. Fabulous wealth at your fingertips given your skills!"
”I’ve been here for 8 no 10…” she shakes her head and corrects, ”… about two years, give or take. Donal hasn’t been here that long, perhaps a year? I’m not really sure.” She relaxes in her chair, her finger idly running along the lip of her tea cup as she recalls, ”Actually, I did work in Absolom for a number of years, back in the day. The money was very good, the clients less so. When people think they live in the greatest city in the world, they start to believe they are the center of the world and, by extension, the universe. That’s a nice little bubble to live in until something pops it, reminding you that the universe is a very big place and you are nowhere near the center.”
Yash sat up and stretched, the aromas of bread and stew enticing him out of his slumber. Standing up, he reached for his waterskin, holding it up and letting the water spill across his hands and his head before asking the spirits to replace the contents. He shook his head violently, both cracking his neck and spraying the immediate vicinity around him like a wet dog. He snapped his head back, sending his hair overtop to rest on his back as he gave it one last shake.
Looking towards the bubbling stew, Yash slowly made his way over. Unsure where to sit, he finally plopped back down near where Mama Cookie was cooking away. He listened as the caravan mistress spoke, unsure of what the spirits had in mind for him, or where they wanted him to go. Whenever she would turn in his direction, he merely shrugged and looked at Mama Cookie.
"I was on a ship bound for Absalom and wound up here instead" Sabelina notes to Violetta.
Sabelina doesn't miss the odd counting of years Violetta recites, but decides to let it go by unquestioned. It might be nothing, she figures everyone, not just her, is in need of more sleep before they're thinking clearly.
After pausing for another sip of her tea, she asks "how often does the city move? If I wanted to go on to Absalom, to see if for myself, by when would I need to leave?"
Mama takes a moment to think. She catches the eye of the big half orc guy again. He seems to follow his nose. Or heart. She wasn't sure which yet. She looks back to the mistress and asks, If I said I wanted to stay in Threshold, and I'm not saying I am, what would you do with the tykes?
"If I said I wanted to stay in Threshold, and I'm not saying I am, what would you do with the tykes?"
"We'll take them with us, of course. A couple of our waypoints up ahead are in good-sized towns. We get the kids taken care of and then we track down any family, relations, or neighbors they've got in other villages. They may be from rural parts but we're still in Taldor. If word of the plague has spread, I bet the Prince's physicians and soldiers are already on it. We're not gonna leave these kids by the side of the road or in some orphanage, if that's your worry."
"How often does the city move? If I wanted to go on to Absalom, to see if for myself, by when would I need to leave?"
Violetta frowns briefly and leans in to speak even more quietly than before. "That's a subject I shouldn't discuss with you. I'm sorry. And, truthfully, I have no idea how long we'll be here. Even the Astromancer can't predict a 'move' too far in advance. At this stop we're likely to have only a day or two notice before we depart. If you left right now for Absalom, my guess is we'll be gone before you return." She sits back in her chair and smooths her dressing gown, looking a little wistful.
Sabelina also goes quiet for a moment. She bites her lower lip and tries to divine some meaning from Violetta's change in mood. Finally, she breaks the silence.
"And what if I didn't leave, if I just stayed here until the city moved? Would anyone tell me the things about Threshold I'm not supposed to ask about then? What does it take to know what everyone here seems to know but won't talk about?"
Violetta clasps her hands in her lap, navigating for an answer, ”Beginnings are delicate things. In the past, there were incidents. Some people spoke with newcomers too openly, too quickly, and without a full understanding of the community. The results were… unfortunate. It was decided then that introductions would be handled in a controlled manner to hopefully prevent any further incidents. I’ve been where you are now, burning with questions and frustrated by the silence. I’ll tell you what I was told then: ‘The Architect will answer your questions, whether you like it or not. Her office is in the Campanile.’”
Sabelina thinks about what Violetta has said for a moment.
"Do you mean I can just go to The Architect's office unannounced, ask to see them, and I could?"
A hint of a smile returns to her face, "Threshold isn't a monarchy. Bowing and ceremony have never been part of our culture. Basic politeness is advisable, whoever you meet. But, yes, you can visit the Architect straight away if you like... though I doubt your arrival will be completely unanticipated."
She pauses briefly, "If I may offer you some advice... the Architect is very direct which sometimes rubs people the wrong way. She is bright but somewhat clueless about what hurts feelings or bruises egos. She isn't mean-spirited, quite the opposite, but she just doesn't understand emotions. So, if you or your friends are thin-skinned, you may be in for a lump or two."
Sabelina assures Violetta that, if they visit, she will keep what she's said about The Architect in mind.
She makes small talk with Violetta for a little while longer. The information is valuable to have and it's otherwise nice talking to her, but Sabelina doesn't want to wear out her welcome. Finally she takes her leave.
"This has been such a pleasant way to wake up Violetta. Thank you for the tea and conversation. I should go now and find that scruffy bunch I met yesterday though so you cab get on with your day. Would a parting kiss be out of bounds?"
Violetta rises, resurrecting some of her previous playfulness. "Generally, yes, kissing is out of bounds. But I'll make an exception."
She pins 'Sable' against the table, bodies grinding, and kisses her like it may be the last time they ever meet. Then she helps the bladeswoman dress, with her hands doing things that prove more distracting than useful. She walks Sabelina to the red door and ushers her through it.
"Have a wonderful day. If you like what the Architect has to say, come see me."
Dockside…
Everyone enjoys a slow start to their day… be it a result of getting up late, or eating a leisurely breakfast, or sluggishly recovering from a hangover (*cough* familiars *cough*), or debating the fate of urchins and the choices that life affords.
The noon hour finds Senna hawking her services on the dock while Sausage snoozes in a puddle nearby with his pink tattooed side up for observers to appreciate his mistress’ art.
”Tattoos for sale! Fine images at fair prices! Animals, landscapes, symbols, sigils, or text! If you fear the needle, I can just paint it on you! Tattoos!”
By happenstance or Fate… Mama Cookie, Yash, Sabelina, and Lady (nursing her hangover) also find themselves on the dock enjoying the salt air, considering a mid-day snack, or just pondering what to do with the rest of their day.
At the door Sabelina asks Violetta to pass on her warmest regards and a kiss from her to Donal when he wakes. She adds "You know that lie you suggested I write about you? I don't think it's a lie at all."
Sabelina goes downstairs to the common room and orders a strong black coffee. While she drinks it she writes an down all the events of the last 24 hours, or perhaps a bit more, in a greatest detail she can manage.
With a smile she begins with a newly conceived of title: A True Account of the Continuing Exploits and Adventures of Lady Sable.
Since she hasn't seen anyone else come by the time she's finished writing, Sabelina decides to walk around looking for the group from yesterday. She wonders if they perhaps left town earlier in the morning or something of that sort. If they did, she supposes she's sort of miffed they didn't wait for her. But she's not nearly so upset as she would have been had it happened the day before.
Mama Cookie has a serious conversation with the Caravan mistress about the orphans and through that time realizes that she's actually laying the ground work for something.
Her departure.
By the end she is decided and tells the Mistress privately first. Then she gathers the children around and breaks the new gently. The news is received with mixed reactions. Some of the older kids take it stoically, others start to cry. She spends much of the morning encouraging the kids that they are going to be with their families as soon as possible.
Later that afternoon she finds herself on the docks. Her heart is burdened with leaving the children, but optimistic about the chance to travel with a home. If what the Committee said was true, this entire city moved! Imagine that! It's not long before she runs into the lady with the pig, Senna, if she remembered.
Greetings, by dear! How is business? she calls cheerily.
From behind Mama there is a splash of brilliant red as Lady shadows her human counterpart. She'd spent much of the morning either asleep or wishing she was. But as the day wears on things start to balance out and Lady is much more herself, if a little sleepy.
As soon as she sees the pig she yips and trots forward. She sits by the head of the pig and bats its ear until it wakes up. Good morning, sunshine! she says. How'd we sleep last night?
Although Sabelina is splitting her time looking for the others between humming contentedly under her breath and sightseeing as well, the cluster that's beginning to form does catch her attention. She saunters over, pleased they're still around.
"Good day Senna, Mama Cookie, and furry friends! How has your stay here been since we last saw each other?"
"Greetings, my dear! How is business?" she calls cheerily.
Senna waves half-heartedly at the sprightly halfling and comes over. "It's been a bit of an uphill climb today, Esteemed Mother. I've done two small tats, that's it. If I make a gold piece by day's end, I'll be surprised." She muses, more to herself than Cookie. "I need to find a hook that will grab people and make them want to get inked. Something about this town maybe. I should probably have a look around and sketch some interesting sights."
She sits by the head of the pig and bats its ear until it wakes up. Good morning, sunshine! she says. How'd we sleep last night?
Sausage thinks about the fox's words then lifts his head, rolls his eyes, and lets his head drop heavily. His tiny tail splashes in the puddle energetically for a moment.
Lady interprets this as Sausage saying he slept deeply but would like more of it. And he enjoyed their night out.
After a moment the pig rises and walks in a tight circle before nudging the fox lightly with his snout. He concludes by sitting down much as the fox does - back end down and head up, watching the two-legs.
"Good day Senna, Mama Cookie, and furry friends! How has your stay here been since we last saw each other?"
Senna nods in greeting, "I can't complain. My room was quiet, the breakfast was quite good, and the weather is fair. I'm happy with that despite business being a bit slow. Do you folks have any plans for the rest of your day?"
Sabelina arches an eyebrow and smiles a cat that swallowed the canary smile.
"Well, if nobody is too terribly busy otherwise, I know where we can go and with whom we can talk to get some answers about how this town works."
Senna's answer is as definitive as it is economical. "In."
I would like some information on that, yes. I have come to the conclusion that this town moves, and there are so many questions to be asked just on that statement alone that it boggles the mind!
Sabelina's smile widens into a big grin.
"I'm certain it moves. Yes, it surely does boggle the mind!"
With amusement, Senna quips, "Sooo... are you going to let us in on where we need to go and who we need to see?"
Yash spent most of the day following Mama Cookie around. He had stood quietly by as she spoke to the caravan mistress and the children about her departure. He had followed silently behind as she meandered through the streets, never straying too far away. And now he stood muted, attentive, listening as the others discussed on what to do next.
As they broached the subject of the town, he finally spoke.
"Yash go. Different worlds" he said as he nodded.
"Ah yes, the details. We want to speak with 'The Architect'. Her office is in the Campanile, so that's where we go." Sabelina says this as if she's intimately familiar with the town's geography.
"My good friend did caution me about The Architect's manner, which she described as rather brusque and perhaps insensitive. But such bruises are easily and quickly healed in pursuit of knowledge are they not?"
"The Architect would seem to not be the only person involved in the town's travels either. An 'Astromancer' was mentioned as well, perhaps the person who makes the movements happen."
Senna's attention pings between Yash and Sabelina. "Oh, that's easy. We got some tourist information from Salli last night. The Campanile is the bell tower. We just have to follow the street all the way to the end and we're there."
She looks to Yash, "Eh, what-was-that-now? 'Different worlds'? This place is different, granted. Is that what you mean?"
As an afterthought, she clarifies, "Co masz na myśli mówiąc „różne światy”?"
"Orki ze statku w gospodzie... nie pochodzą z tego... świata. To miejsce... może odwiedzać inne... światy."
Senna blinks in surprise. "Czy wierzysz, że mówili prawdę? Czy dali dowód?"
The Varisian seems a bit poleaxed. "According to Yash... the Orcs at the Slattern are not from Golarion at all, but another planet. Unless those Orcs were lying, Threshold doesn't just move here. It must travel between worlds."
"I have come to the conclusion that this town moves, and there are so many questions to be asked just on that statement alone that it boggles the mind!"
"Flying a town around Golarion is amazing. But taking an entire town and every person in it between worlds... That takes magic that I would have said a moment ago is impossible. The greatest spells I've read about can create a gate between worlds that is large enough for people to walk through, but it only lasts for a couple minutes."
She thinks for a moment, "Alternatively, there is a spell that allows a caster to take people and objects between the worlds, but I think it is only objects and people you can touch at the same time. You can't touch a whole town and everyone in it."
Yash shrugged.
"Nie wiem Trudno w to wszystko uwierzyć. Spędziłem większość życia podróżując i nigdy nie widziałem rzeczy, które tu widziałem. Nie wątpię w jego historię, choć trudno w to uwierzyć."
"Jego plemię to Płonąca Włócznia ze świata zwanego Miir. Świat, w którym ludzie, krasnoludy, orki i wielu innych walczyło z elfami.""
"His tribe is the Burning Spear, from a world called Miir. A world where men, dwarves, orcs, and many others warred with the elves."
Sabelina is a little skeptical of what Senna says Yashnarz says; maybe a problem in translation? But, there's no need to start a debate of a subject they can't resolve now, and may have a real answer to later.
"Shall we go then?"
Senna nods. "Widziałem Orków przechwalających się swoimi walkami i sprawnością, ale nie kłamiących o czymś takim... myślę Słyszałem o tym „Miir” od mojej przybranej matki."
She regards the others, "Yash has good reasons to believe this place travels between the planes. And I have reason to believe he is absolutely correct. Right! Let's go find the Architect."
Our Valiant Heroes Head Out…
To arrive at the Campanile, you first slide through the drunkard-like buildings of Dockside, pass through the hedge at Low Gate, and navigate through the myriad merchant stalls of the Bizarre Bazaar to arrive at the sizeable tree-canopied green space at the center of Market Square. In the Bizarre, Yash leads you past stalls containing items so strange that you think they certainly could come from other worlds.
Continuing on, you follow the High Street through an area called The Rows, presumably named for the multiple rows of 4 to 5 story buildings that are evenly spaced and uniform in appearance. They are, almost entirely, residential spaces. With the vast number of people you see in the streets, enjoying their terraces, or at work… you realize that Threshold is far more populated than you imagined previously. There must be at least a couple thousand residents that call Threshold home.
You leave The Rows behind at High Gate – another largely residential area that brackets an even wider and more impressive hedge than Low Gate’s one. Beyond High Gate, as you approach the end of the winding High Street, is an area called Trillion. Here the High Street becomes more of a wide walking path with the cobblestones interspersed with tufts of grass. All of Trillion is sloping lawns, stands of trees, rows of fruit trees, and private residences, sized from ‘comfortable’ to ‘majestic’. You expect this is where the ‘upper crust’ of Threshold lives, and that is true to an extent. But you also see scores of locals - from further down the road - having picnic lunches, strolling the lawns, or snatching romantic moments in more secluded spots… as children play games, or pull fruit from the trees, or goof off. Even the lawns and trees hard by the loftier mansions are not free from common locals enjoying themselves. Trillion seems more like a massive public park dotted with homes rather than a private enclave for the wealthy.
As they walk, Sabelina positions herself near Senna's side and quickly leans in.
"What did you leave out when you translated what Yashnarz said?"
Senna frowns, keeps walking, and shares her thoughts quietly. "Yash mentioned the Orcs he met said they were from 'Miir'. I've heard a story or two about Miir from my mother - my foster-mother." she quickly amends. "She's a seer - a great one - and I've rarely seen her wrong. And if she's right, this town, this city goes a lot farther than we thought. Miir doesn't circle another star in the sky, it exists in an alternate prime material plane, a universe without a Golarion in it. No spell I've ever heard of will allow that border to be breached."
At a normal volume, Senna says, "Keep up, Sausage... and don't pay attention to the juicy pears those kids dropped, on your left... your other left." She smiles as the pig trots away for a treat. She remarks to Sabelina and Cookie, "Sometimes you should spoil your children."