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"wait a minute, only one person I know can sing like that." He rushes in: "Lissa! It's me Antal, I've... oh." He looks up at the lovely woman who was singing (assuming it's not the Ulfen man twice his size). "Hello there, miss. You have a lovely singing voice." "Thank you Antal," Violca replies. "I'm always happy to hear when my music is appreciated, though I take it you were expecting someone else?"
Violca returns to the bar as the Aasimar walks in. She slips behind the bar and winks as Menas as she pours a new tankard of Vjarik for Magnus. "Alain, darrrling," Violca purrs. "I don't believe that you are drunk enough." She chuckles. "You don't want rum, Alain. Drink this." She pours another tankard of Vjarik. "It'll put hair on your chest."
"While you wait for your storytellers, I'll earn my keep Menas," Violca calls over her shoulder as she makes her way to the dias once more. This time she sings a simple but pleasant song about the comforts of a drink and friendship on a fine evening.
The music wafts out through the open door. Combined with the warmth and light spilling into the street, the song does its job as people pause outside to listen then wander in to find the singer.
"You needn't call me 'Miss Grey,' my given name's Violca and I do so like hearing it," Violca says with a wry smile. "Especially from handsome young men who have the courage to stand in the face of oppression." Violca continues, "I'll tell you a favorite story of mine, about an old friend of a friend. It doesn't have the freeing of slaves or the furthering of the Andoran cause, but it does reinforce the necessity of strong leadership. "His name was Fred and he was a dwarf. I don't know why his parents thought that Fred was a good dwarven name, but it doesn't do to judge. Anyway, Fred was not what you'd call a socially inclined individual. He tended to be that 'I hit it with my axe' kind of adventurer." She gives Corin a knowning look "I'm sure you've met a few of those in your time, however short it has been. "Fred the Dwarf, however, ran into a situation where he needed more than one blade. War was brewing and the people needed a battle-strong leader. In an immense effort, he raised and rallied a whole army. The morning of the great battle dawned cool and misty. This was Fred's climatic moment. He stood before his array of troops and gave the most inspiring speech ever and since. "He spoke of the power of unity, of how they could do anything if they worked together. With a cheer and a loud cry, they charged over the ridge towards the enemy line. "It would have been the perfect moment if the enemy had not, as desperate gambit, taken on the services of an amateur illusionist. The caster caused a swarm of illusionary giant bees to rise out of the mists in hopes of gaining a few extra moments of preparation. "Fred the Dwarf crested the ridge and saw the bees rise up. Never the perceptive type, he failed to see through the illusion. With terror in his voice he shouted out, 'BEES! Every man for himself!' and he turned tail and fled with his entire army close on his heels."
"A tale of valor to be sure. Teacup, the man I mentioned, is a gunslinger too. A musket master. Personally I like the look of a pistol better, but I guess that's just me." She smiles warmly. "I am Violca Grey, dancer, songstress, and storyteller. Terrible with a bow, worse with a rapier, but inspiring to fight alongside." Violca chuckles. "Perhaps it's not the magic of my music that makes others around me perform better in combat, but rather a mundane seeming of doing better by comparrison."
Violca laughs brightly and she leads the dance, keeping Kyros moving at a furious pace, but not letting him miss his footing too badly. Perform Dance When the music crashes to an end, Viola directs the applause and praise to the fiddler. While he becomes the centre of attention, she guides Kyros back to the bar and sits him down with a mug of ale. "Drink up," she directs. "Maybe tomorrow you won't remember." She ruffles his hair and takes a seat between him and Magnus.
An attractive, young Varisian woman sits reclines in an overstuffed chair in one of the Grand Lodge common rooms. Clustered around her, is a small array of other Pathfinders, largely of Andoran inclination. The image is almost comical, as if she were a priest at mass, or perhaps a grandfather holding court before a gaggle of grandchildren. "... -icked down the door we poured out onto the landing. The slaves were shackled below. Most were slumped hopelessly in their shackles, their eyes dull and almost lifeless. One however stood rebelliously before his captor, his eyes firey with defiance in the face of a raised whip. With a loud voice I cried out, 'For Andoran!' All eyes turned to me as I drew my bow and loosed an arrow at the slaver," she pauses dramatically, "and missed completely!" The small assembly takes a moment to process the change in tone then joins the woman's laughter. "I swear that I have never been happier to have companions with better aim than myself. I stuck to raising morale for the rest of that battle while Teacup blasted a hole bigger than a melon in the biggest slaver's chest!" There is a chorus of approval as she leans back and smiles. "But enough about my exploits. Let's hear some of your tales of claiming victory in the name of Freedom and Democracy."
Violca tips her head to the side for a moment then nods. "Very well, Kyros, let's see if you can keep up." She drains her glass and stands, placing her hand in his. To the fiddler in the corner she calls out something in Varisian. In Varisian:
"Let's see if this devil can dance, friend!" The fiddler grins obligingly and begins to play a firey tune. Violca spins away from Kyros, undulating to the music and beckoning him to follow her to the dias, the only real open space in bar.
Violca chokes back a laugh, covering her mouth to avoid spitting out a mouthful of wine. She swallows both the wine and the laughter. "I am well thank you," she says, nodding to each in turn. To Magnus she rplies, "I think, however, that you need some more lessons from Kyros before the offer of tasting is considered."
I tend to see a select group of people in my adventures." "I know what you mean," Violca chimes in. "There are a few people that I fling my lot in with more often than others. There's a quadre of tieflings I run with now and again, as well as Menas and a crotchety Chelaxian gunslinger." She runs a finger around the rim of her wineglass. "No matter how little know my fellow agents, I'd sooner have all alcohol turn to dust in my mouth than see one of them die."
"Hey Violca! A question!" He clears his throat, sounding all genteel like (but obviously a bad impression)."I am requesting permission to touch you!" Violca flutters one hand in front of her face like blushing lady and extends the other hand in front of her, palm down. "Sir may kiss my hand," she drawls, mimicking a similar genteel tone, "but he'll be needin' my daddy's permission if'n he intends to court me."
Violca giggles and presses the new tankard of Vjarik into his hands. She gives a last teasing swipe of the cloth over his nose. "Then you can wash the rest off in the rain barrel outside," retorts playfully.
Still laughing, Violca tumbles out of the dance, catching her breath. "Don't pout sweetheart, it doesn't become you," she coos as she drops into the seat beside Magnus with a swish of her skirts. "It may be an Ulfen compliment, but I'm a Varisian and my body's my own to do with as I will. I don't mind a wink and a leer, but I'll not have touches that I don't explicitly ask for. I'm sure you can understand that." She gives Magnus a soft smile. Violca reaches over behind the bar and snags the damp cloth kept there for spills. "Here, let's clean you up a little and make our peace," she says as she begins mopping some of the alcohol from his face. "I'll promise not to threaten your manhood and you can promise not to touch me unless I say you can. Fair enough?" She holds out her hand for the mugs she knows Menas will have poured, a light ale for her and more Vjarik for Magnus. "Oh, Menas, the lovely Ulfen man at table three is buying for the night." The ruby from earlier appears in her hand with a snap of her fingers and she tosses it to the bartender.
He mutters something in Skald before turning his attention back to Menas. Linguistics "I need no rabbit heart to punish you, Magnus," Violca calls with a grin as she catches hold of Kyros and pulls him into the dance with her. She spins and twirls to the fiddlers tune, tipping her head back to laugh exultingly.
Violca takes a position centre stage and begins a story of the witch Baba Yaga. She tells the story of Vasilissa the Beautiful. Vasilass was a young girl seeking vengeance against an abusive husband of a forced marriage. The girl went to Baba Yaga in desperation after no other would help her. The witch brewed a potion out of the heart of a rabbit for Vasilissa to drink and told the girl that it would make her strong enough to overpower her husband. Vasilissa drank the potion but it was a poison that killed her in an instant. From her body, her spirit arose. It flew back to her village in the dead of night and the next morning her husband was found dead with his face contorted in fear and terror. Now legend says that a slighted woman may stand on a hill at midnight and call out the spirit of Vasilissa the Beautiful by eating the heart of a rabbit to seek vegeance on her behalf. Perform Storytelling The story draw to a chilling close, leaving the bar in an eerie quiet. The silence is abruptly broken by the Varisian fiddler in the corner letting out a cackling laugh. He croaks something in Varisian and strikes up his fiddle. With a bow to him, Violca begins dancing, a smile lighting her face once more.
As she leans over, he gives her a complementary Ulfen-style bar-wench slap on the ass. Violca drifts out from behind the bar to stand beside Magnus. She reaches out with one hand and uncurls his fingers from his tankard one by one, holding his hand in her own. She smiles and leans in close to himm and whispers in seductively in his ear. "If you ever touch me again without my permission, I will castrate you." And with a flick of the wrist she snatches up his tankard and splashes the remain Vjarik in his face. She flits across the room to the stage before he can clear his eyes.
"Aw, that's sweet Magnus," Violca replies as she refills his mug. She leans a hip on the bar and snags her wine glass from the shelf behind her. "And, yes Kyros, that's the Baba Yaga I mean. No relation to my Baba of course, but I heard tales of her a million times over. "Baba Yaga the Arch-Crone, the Bone Mother, the wild and untamable, the nature spirit bringing wisdom and death of ego, and through death, rebirth." Violca sighs with a little shiver. "It's enough to make a chill run down your spine."
Ms. Grey, your parents seemed like wonderful people "Darling, you needn't call me Miss Grey. Violca's the name I was given and I like hearing it. Also, you might be a tad confused on Varisian tradition. My mother is a story for another day, but Baba is Varisian for grandmother." Violca grins like a fox, "Have you never heard the tales of Baba Yaga?"
"As for you, Magnus, is that your game? You're being poetic and romantic so you can bed me free instead of paying another for your nightly company?"
Violca wastes only a brief glare at Menas before focussing on Kyros. "Thank you for soothing my pride, sweatheart," she almost purrs. Raising her voice she adds, "Some people just don't appreciate me." Turning then to Magnus, she continues, "For a bit of truth in the matter, I won't say that my childhood was all rainbows and sunshine, but I had a good Da, and my Baba was a force to be reckoned with. While I won't deny that some of the women in our troupe provided some more exotic entertainment, my Da would never have made anyone do anything they didn't want, and my Baba wouldn't have let him if he tried."
Violca steps back, leaning against the shelves behind the bar and deep drink from her glass. She puts on a pout as she turns to talk to the returning bartender. "Menas, I told two visions of my past, one where I my family were fun and interesting traveling entertainers, and one where my family was a degenerate bunch of inbred flesh-peddlers. Magnus picked the latter as true. He thinks my Baba would have let my Da prostitute me," she laments. She absently pours an ale for the newcomer, sneaking him a wink while maintaining her demeaner off dejection. Bluff
"You want to know where I come from, Magnus?" Violca murmurs, arching an eyebrow. "Well let's take a look..." She touches a finger to her chin, pondering a moment before continuing. "Every story has no fewer perspectives than there are people to observe it, and I shall give you two perspectives. "I was born and raised a true Varisian. My house a caravan, my family an extended collection of the most interesting people, and my home the whole world. Wherever we went, we earned our bread with song, dance, and unique craftsmenship. We children were a happy, tumultous bunch, forever laughing and running about." Violca pauses a moment then begins again as if starting a new tale. "I was spawned and reared a degenerate wanderer. My house was a half-rotten shack on wheels, my family an inbred gaggle of theiving charlatans, and my home any land that couldn't manage to keep the rats out. Wherever we went, the men stole what they could while their mothers, wives, and any daughters old enough were rented to lustful men with low enough standards. My siblings and cousins were cruel as only children can be, chasing, taunting, and beating the weak, the odd, and anyone who stood up for them." Perform (Storytelling) Abruptly turning away, Violca pours a few more drinks and shouts a few more orders to the kitchen. She comes back to stand in front of Magnus, a glass of wine in her hand. She takes a slow sip and her tone becomes lighter. "How am I doing so far? Do you like my tale?" She inquires. One corner of her mouth is turned up in a crooked smile, but her dark eyes are suddenly more piercing than twinkling. "Would you like me to continue?"
Violca watches Magnus' half-spoken musings with a smile. As the shape of his story begins to take shape, her conceals her mirth, but by the end of the tale she cannot help but laugh aloud. "A beautifully crafted tale," she chuckles. "A very... optimistically dramatic description of events past and to come. I warm you though, you can't scale the Momument of Violca with less than a day of adoration and flattery. And it will take a lot more than an offer to have primodial trolls overthrow a pantheon for me to get me to wed anyone, not even for a drunken Magnimaran fling." Violca tops up Magnus' mug of Vjarik and calls out, "Who's next to spin us tale?"
"The Great Urai Agmundur buys your drinks tonight so drink them well, friends!" Violca cries as she waltzes across the room to take charge of the bar. She plucks up the ruby from its place on the bar before it gets 'lost' among the mugs of patrons. With a snap of her fingers with a grin and the gem disappears. With a flourish, Violca pours and deposits two tankards in front of Leon.
"How could I not oblige a fellow Andoran?" Violca murmurs with a smile. She snags a bottle from behind the bar and fills her glass herself, carrying both across the room to the dias that serves as a small stage. She sips her drink and then sets aside the bottle and glass and begins to sing again. This time she sings in Varisian, a hauntingly beautiful folk song of a traveller's nostalgia for home and hope of returning one day. Perform (sing)
Menas gets a strange expression on his face as one of his eyebrows makes a dash for his hairline. "Friend - I am not due to leave for a few days... and besides... it isn't a sure thing. A courier will come and fetch me in a few days if my services are needed. You guys don't get rid of me that easy!" [b]The Taldane man pours another mug of some Dragonpunch and slides it to Magnus. "Ugh!" Violca exclaims in frustration. "You make it sound as if you're about throw aside your apron to dash off without so much as a spare pair of drawers and then you blame us for being good and willing friends." She lets down her hair and shakes it loose. With a jingling of bangles she vaults the bar to perch on a stool. She snatches up her wineglasses and holds it out expectantly. "One for for 'Almost Trustworthy,' one for 'more Predictable than Trustworthy,' and three for comparing me to a wolf!"
Viola drops her scarf, her teary-eyed facade replaced with a pout. "First you say incriminating things about me, then you tell me you're up and leaving without me?" She lifts her chin indignantly. "It'd serve you right if your tavern burnt to the ground!" she exclaims, but her scornful gaze lasts only a moment. Violca sighs then stands and adeptly ties her hair back with a scarf before moving behind the bar. "If it weren't for all the times you saved my life..."
Violca laughs brightly. "Ah, but I'm not ready to be a wife just yet. I'm sure I have many a year in front of me, and if my life is cut short, then I certainly would rather have spent the little time I have off on grand adventures than raising babies." She tosses her black amber hair and then looks slightly abashed. "That being said, my own mother and her mother before her married and started popping out the little ones as soon as they were old enough. For that I give them every credit out of respect... And because my Baba could probably whoop my carcas into next week!" Violca exclaims merrily with another laugh and stops in abrupt seriousness and continues with sombre insistance. "No, seriously. I wouldn't be able to sit down for a week, and that's if I was lucky."
Violca wanders back to the bar, reaches over it and pours herself another glass of wine. "You'll have to stand in line, Magnus, or perhaps fight to the death. You're not the first to declare he will wed me," she says as she sips her drink, "and I doubt you'll be the last. Besides... In Varisian: " Violca continues to presumably explain something with a shrug and a smile but it must have been spoken in Varisian based on the appearance of few patrons who chuckle in response. The Varisian fiddler from the corner grins as widely as a goblin. wives are supposed to dance for only one man and where's the fun in that?
"Ahhh, can't wait until I become a legend myself. My name celebrated by beautiful women, song and hard drink..." he mutters to himself and takes a swig from his tankard. The melodic and soothing tones of Violca's voice continue to boast the exploits of the great Urai Agmundr but she gradually begins broadening her focus to the great Ulfen people. She starts weaving stories of the Linnorm Kings, their tribes, and one known as the Fist of the Linnorm. She sings of how he proved himself in grand ventures for the Pathfinder Society, returning victorious from battles in the frigid northern realms while lesser men tremble at the slightest chill. She continues to unfurl a tale of his training and combats with the Irorian Monks of Tian Xia, as he woos the blushing Tian maidens. She recounts his bare-fisted victories against the noble Shoati warriors as his deeds become legends throughout all of Golarion. Violca sings to the room, the men and women seated nearby, but doesn't raise her eyes to the men at the bar until she brings her musical interlude to a close and smiles or perhaps smirks as she takes her bows.
Violca watches Urai enter with a quiet, appraising gaze. Taking her mug of water she slips back over to the dias, watching him from the corner of her eye as she goes. Knowledge Local: Quietly at first, then growing just loud enough to be ambient, she begins singing the tales of Urai Agmundr, the blood stained legend of the Pathfinder Society. Perform (Sing):
Violca comes laughing and twirling over to the bar, pulling her shoes on as she comes. She takes a seat with a swoosh and a thump, her breath heavy from the exertion. "I'll have an Ulseberry Ale, Menas, and in the cleanest mug in the house," she orders giddily. "I'd forgotten how fun it is to do that without dodging halflings with greataxes between steps." She drinks her ale down in a few gulps and relaxes with a sigh. "And I'll now suffer the scorn of ordering water in a pub, if you please," she continues with a laugh, holding out her mug to be filled.
Violca smiles as a travel-worn Varisian man in the corner pulls out a fiddle from a battered case and strikes up a lively folk song. She kicks off her shoes, a bit of a dangerous thing to do in a bar, and begins clapping in time with the music. Once the majority of the bar have joined her more-or-less on the beat, she turns her back to the crowd for a moment before twirling around and moving with the rhythm. Before long Violca is dancing and spinning with swirl of skirts and a swish of colourful scarves. The bangles on her wrists and ankles chime in perfect time to music. OOC: Perform 24 It seems all too soon that Violca casts her eye to the fiddler who takes his cue and together they bring the song to fierce crescendo and a stunning finale.
"So let me ask you this: If you have the Starstone in your grasp and became a goddess on the morrow, and you must choose between dance and quill, which of it would it be? What is your heart’s desire?” Violca laughs lightly, "How could I ever labour over a quill for eternity if I could be the Lady of the Dance?" With that, she flits across the room and commandeers the small dias that serves the bar as a stage. "It's a little early, so my fellow performers aren't here yet, but I will dance for you, if someone will give me music."
Violca smiles at the mention of the Tian monks. "I've been to Tian-Xia and watched them fight," she says as she runs a finger around the rim of her empty wineglass. "I spent some time at the Dragon Temple there. They take a whole body approach to combat. Every student is trained in staff, sword, knives and spear, as well as wrestling and unarmed combat. They later add more exotic weapons and some even incorporate magic into their styles, so don't go in expecting nothing but hands and feet. Of course, I wasn't permitted to train with the brothers, but I don't take to that kind of authoritarian approach anyway." Violca smirks as the wineglass sings under her finger. "It was hard enough maintaining my role as a sumbissive lady who liked sitting under peach trees and drinking hideous teas. Training under the masters would have turned me black and blue from the beating for my inevitable insolence. To their credit though," she continues with a giggle, "if they saw me spiking my tea with something stronger, they didn't say anything."
Violca smirks, "Alas, the Monument of Violca takes more than a little ferocity and waving around of weapons to be persuaded to bolster anyone." She pauses and tips her head to the side seeming to think for a moment then continues in a much less sultry tone. "Of course, if we're being literal, I'd follow you and your Wayfinder about and bolster you to your heart's content if the journey looked interesting. I'm a bard and chronicler for the Society." "Menas," Violca jerks a thumb towards the returning barkeep, "and I have been on a few expeditions of our own. I only dance in the Delve as something to do between assignments."
The Varisian woman traces the symbol of Pharasma over her heart and downs the rest of her wine before sliding off the bar. She moves over the the Ulfen man and gently uncurls his fingers from around the crumpled map. "Let's have a look at that for you darling," she says as she smooths the paper out on the bar with delicate fingertips. "Ah, it's Varisian, and quite a decent map if you know language. Lucky for you, you found me," she says with a grin. "You can skip the 'Miss Grey' business and call me Violca," she continues as she scans the map. "Most everyone does.... and there we are. This is us over here by the little tear to the left of this wrinkle and you want to be here." Violca takes the large man's finger and places it on a prominently marked monument that would have been easy to find if the map had been in Common. "They say that, if you practice weaponplay before the monument with enough ferocity to fighten the chardas, you will be bolstered with courage in future battles."
Violca gives a low chuckle. "Perhaps if you had spent more time writing and less time researching, the would have been more interesting." She pauses and ponders a moment. "You know, a guide to Korvosan bordellos could actually be quite useful, provided you devoted a greater portion of the text to the socio-political landscape and less the personal topography of the employees."
Violca leans behind the bar and pours herself a glass of Damsel in Distress, savouring the drink before responding. "It was paper that cut from midriff to throat. I'll spare the details, but fortunately for me, despite his terrible jests, Menas' divine connections fixed me up without a lasting scar," she says as she raises her glass in a toast to the Lucky Drunk. "As for money-making, I'm a terrible barkeep. I'm too fond of talking and drinking to get anything done and I just don't have the servile knack. And, as appreciative as people are of my dances and stories, the Society pays more for my work as a chronicler than the layman can afford to toss at my nimble feet."
An attractive, young Varisian woman emerges from the back room with the swirling of bright skirts and the jingling of bangles. She stands about 5'8 and wears her dark hair loose to her lower back. "If you can pay for your drinks, Cormac O'Bron, World's Worst Rogue [TM], I'm sure Menas will let you keep your seat for as long as you can hold your liquor." She smiles warmly. "But your tumbling act had better not be replacing my performance this evening." She hops up to seat herself on other end of the bar, watching the barkeeper fill the quartet of glasses and mugs |
