Dungeons and Dragons discussion
Instruments of Fate (Batman)
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Instruments of Fate (With Pulp)
message 151:
by
Eve O. Spellman
(new)
Jul 27, 2024 04:06PM
((Weird question blocking me from writing. Despite not being in town long but analyzing a map, does Anwen know best place to perform for money?))
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@Anwen, You run through a list of possible establishment where you could put your talents to use and possibly meet like-minded individuals, making judgements based on the map you were studying earlier.
●There's an inn on the other side of town called The Copper Kettle . You assume that its distance from the docks and proximity to the wealthier resident area makes it a higher end establishment.
●There is a theater that includes both indoor and outdoor stages.
●Some of the shopping include art studios or music shops that might allow you to perform. One that stands out for its name alone is High Flutin'! .
●And of course, the ever present option is to take to the streets, busking for gratuities from generous locals.
Anwen bowed her head a moment to think before looking back up at the waitress with a smile. "I have some spare change on me you can use to send a message to your younger sister. In the mean time, I am going to head to The Copper Kettle to see if I can use my bardic talents to earn you some money to make up for the time lost. It may not be much, I cannot guarantee, but it will be something. "Sound like a solid plan?"
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Anwen smiled and nodded, standing up and helping the woman up. "Of course. You can even help if you want. Can you dance a little or sing?"
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"Well, if you are comfortable, and no one in the crowd is scummy," Anwen began as she led the way to the post office then the Kettle, "then you can dance with the audience members. Audiences love to get involved and I can only use it if I am using illusions or someone else is playing the instruments. But you are more than welcome to sit and watch. You have done more than enough unpaid work."
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@Henry, Matthias nods. He looks a bit embarrassed as he asks, "uh, yes... I'm looking for any collection of Fairy stories or folk tales that might have any reference to bringing someone back from being turned to stone."
The man running the bookshop counter seemed to be of halfling heritage, but oddly proportioned. His head seemed too large for his body, thin but with a paunch at his belly and his shoulder length blonde hair was parted in the middle framing his pale face. His large rosy cheeks stood out against otherwise skeletal features. Large gold-framed spectacles eclipse his face from their perch on his long but rounded nose. His gray suit is oversized but neatly pressed and he wears spats without shoes. "Mandrakes, hmmm...?" Despite his height differential, he manages to seem condescending. He looks down his nose at the captain, taking in his uniform but glosses over your rougher armor without "Children's stories are in the front rows. Just look for the pictures of farm animals. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to re-alphabetize the philosophy section. Feel free to help yourself to a sweet." He pushes a bowl of hard candies toward you before hopping down from his footstool and waddling off toward the back.
“Oh yes. The proceeds do go to you. What I meant is that this is to make up for the unpaid work so any work you do for the money now may go, technically, unpaid,” Anwen explained as they swiftly walked. “Why not send a letter to each aunt and uncle since that is where she would most likely end up?”
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@Anwen, The waitress nods. "That's a good idea. That's three letters though. And I'd have to compose them before posting." She stopped in front of a white stone building that looked like a converted tavern. The sign above the door reads Post Office and was painted with a white envelope with a red wax seal. "I'm surprised I remembered where this was," she said. "I'm just going to get some supplies and I'll write them at the inn. "We'll need envelopes, wax, a good quill, and some ink..." She steps inside and immediately began to peruse a selection of papers in an astonishing range of colors. "Oh and paper, of course! How do they get the colors so vibrant?" She gushed. Overhead in the rafters, you see a flock of owls and pigeons. Across the room, an Owlin in purple robes is sliding letters into what was clearly once a wine rack humming to herself. A woman tiny enough to fit the palm of your hands together is sitting on the floor sorting letters from a giant leather bag into lots of small piles. She is dressed in brown rags and wild hair. A dwarf in similar robes to the owlin is unloading another bag from a dolly. He wipes his brow and tucks a fiery orange beard back under his belt before waving at you and turning to fetch another load.
@Henry, Matthias begins looking through the books with you, selecting a few thin volumes of collected stories. "I apologize. I didn't know he was going to be such an elitist." He frowns. "These have a few titles that seem at least similar to what I remember. He grabs another and opens it up, flipping slowly. "You mentioned mandrakes? Maybe we'd have more luck in the herbology section. Or the florist a few doors down?" ((Roll to investigate this section to see if you find anything good.))
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@Henry, As you peruse, you can see one of the shelves is missing a leg and being propped up with a heavy book called, Grandma Gwendoline's Guide to Gargoyles, Ghouls, Goblins, Golems, and Giants It's clearly a picture book with thick cardboard paper, but something about it draws your eye.
((You’re good.))Anwen chuckled for a moment before clearing her throat. “Remember, I do not have much so try not to splurge,” she reminded the waitress gently before moving towards the desk to see it there were any mailing rates listed. As well as trip time. Though, Anwen didn’t know where they would be headed. She just wanted to know if the money she, ahem, borrowed would be enough or if she would have to wait to see what performing got her.
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What genre of names?))"
((I just realized you were asking about names for the waitress not month names. Probably rustic, rural sounding names or names that a farming community might use if they wanted something fancy sounding. I did have Winnifred in mind, but I was calling her The Waitress so much without thinking about I decided to make it a game. Also, did you like when I put the dialogue in bold? Might start doing that. Titles can be underlined and italicized.))
@Anwen, As you make your way over to the front desk, careful not to step on the woman you realize is a Brownie, the Owlin turns her head around to face you without moving her body. Her black-speckled gray feathers puff up in excitement before settling for a second and she coos happily. "Oh! Hello dear! I love your outfit! How can I be of service? Are you in need of unique stamps? Elmira has an extensive collection from all over Hyara. Or perhaps you are interested in sending a letter via carrier pigeon? Many consider it a romantic alternative to traditional postage."
((Got it! Thank you!I like it yeah. It okay I don’t though?))
Anwen smiled happily, happy to meet such an energetic bird after a long time trap. “Oh why thank you. It did take a while to collect,” she commented on her outfit, looking down at it with pride.
“Ooo, I do wish I had someone to send a pigeon to. Rather, my dear friend,” Anwen nodded to the waitress, “wishes to contact her younger sister. She could be in any of three locations so we’ll need to send three letters. I was wondering what the rates were?”
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"Oh! Sisters separated by an unknown distance, forced apart by fate, yet determined to unite whatever the cost... of postage that is!" She sighs as if swooning over some characters in a fluffy romance novel rather than an actual person. "How tragic! Regular post is 2 copper per mile. Pigeons are 3 copper per mile because they're faster. Owls are 5 copper per mile. They're actually slower than pigeons, but can carry heavier packages. We also offer horses and coaches for longer distances and the heaviest of parcels. Those cost gold though." She pulls out a scroll case and unrolls a map on the counter top marked out in a neat grid representing the miles. "So where too?" The waitress walks over carrying three sheets of pink paper, a quill, and a small inkpot and informs you she is going to forego wax seals. ((These wil runn you a silver for the lot.)) She looks over the map and pinpoints three locations. The first is 73 miles away; a nearly two days journey. The second is a full is 85 miles, and the third is 110 miles, putting it just under four and a half days away. ((2 Gold, 6 silver, and 8 copper.))
@Henry, The book is light on story save for some rhyming couplets associated with all the various creatures depicted. There is a page about a monster called a basilisk, The text reads:
Hark, dear traveler! Beware the Basilisk!
Ignore my warning at your own risk!
A mighty beast, but oh so shy!
Be careful not to look him in the eye,
lest ye should be turned to stone!
Don't travel into his lair all alone.
Be sure to bring a trusted friend
So that you might avoid your end.
The basilisk's face is his own shame,
so bring a shiny mirror in a frame.
Should you fail these words to heed,
and suddenly find yourself in need
to stand completely still for eternity,
Then listen. Listen to me carefully!
A stream of running water is the cure,
And Mandrake Extract*, clean and pure.
To you who would seek the Basilisk,
My heartfelt words to you are TSK! TSk!
*Check out Grandma Gwendolyn's Garden Grimoire for more information!
Anwen grinned at the bird's reaction and held back a laugh from the entertainment. "Yes, very tragic indeed. Are you a poet or writer by any chance?" Anwen stepped to the side to allow the waitress to put her chosen product on the table and point out where they would be going. She visibly relaxed when she realized that the stolen, er, borrowed money would suffice. "Oh fantastic. Well, we'll get these materials and then, once they are written, send them off by regular post then. I certain have enough for that," she reassured the waitress with a smile.
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The waitress grins and lays the paraphernalia on the counter. "Thank you, kindly, Miss...? Umm..."
"Aquilla!" The Owlin says proudly, feathers fluffing. She quickly brushes them down, looking mildly embarrassed. "I only really write as a hobby. Nobody would want to read my drivel even if they could read my handwriting." She lays all the items in a wooden box painted with the establishment's logo. When she thinks you aren't looking, she slips in a book of stamps and a metal quill nib. She recites the price to you as she writes up a pair of receipts. You suspect one will reflect the free items once you leave.
The waitress whispers to you. "That's actually pretty cheap, considering. I can pay you back easily. I have at least that much. Now come on! We've a concert to host!"
"A concert?" Aquilla's feathers fluff up again before she realizes that she wasn't supposed to have heard the conversation. "Oh. Sorry." She preens anxiously and begins to make herself look busy.
“Well, if you ever decide that you want to share your work, I would be happy to read it,” Anwen laughed softly. She noticed the generous act but said nothing. Anwen took out a gold and listened as the waitress spoke. “Oh, you don’t owe me a thing. We’re trying to get you back on your feet. I managed to come into some money recently and have nothing I want to spend it on.”
As Anwen gathered her change, she smiled at Aquilla. “We’re going to The Copper Kettle to try to perform for some extra money. If we get permission, then we’ll be holding a concert there. You are more than welcome to come or inform others. The extra money would purely be donations.”
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"ᴼʰ... ʷᵉˡˡ... ᴵ ˢᵘᵖᵖᵒˢᵉ ᴵ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ᵘˢᵉ ᵃⁿ ᵉᵈᶦᵗᵒʳ ᵒʳ ᵃ ᵖʳᵒᵒᶠʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ." Aquilla mutters under her breath. "Maybe... I don't know. It might be kinda embarrassing." You can tell she is making an effort not to cover her face. ((Roll persuasion if you want.)) "What time is the concert?" She hastily changes the subject. I might be able to stop by after my shift ends in... three-ish hours?" She leans forward to squint at a clock above the door on the far wall, then straightens and adjusts her glasses.
The waitress smiles as she grabs the box of writing materials and turns for the door. "Great! See you there! Thank you!"
"ᵂᵃᶦᵗ... ᵇᵘᵗ ᴵ ᵈᶦᵈⁿ'ᵗ ᵃᵍʳᵉᵉ ᵗᵒ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰᶦⁿᵍ ʸᵉᵗ..." Aquilla protests.
***
@Henry, As you leave, you hear the halfling's voice from the back of the store. "I knew you weren't going to purchase anything! I knew it as soon as you went for the children's books you were an illiterate ignoramus! The sign says Buy the Books! We're a bookstore, not a public library!" You suspect his tirade continues even after the door shuts.
The florist's shop feels almost like walking into a rainforest. Leaves and vines grow like streamers over the ivy-wrapped doorway from a planter atop the frame. The floor is a carpet of thick grass moist with dew. You can smell fresh dirt and fertilizer, lavender, and honeysuckle, and a million other floral fragrances. Matthias notes that the perfumery must have its work cut out to compete. Tables run the length of the space in rows, overburdened with flowering plants in every color, their equally bright painted pots stacked close to the ceiling like bricks in a wall. A light mist hangs over you. At a tiny desk in the corner a woman is sitting with her head down on top of her arms. She has a nest of wild, frizzy brown hair, sprouting leaves and branches and wearing a thick pair of corduroy coveralls patched up with cloth scrap pockets of at least twenty different materials.
((21. XD))((Money: 2 Gold, 1 Silver, 2 Copper))
"Well, as long as I am in town or able to be reached, I would love to give your works a look over. I quite enjoy written art, even if I don't practice too much of it myself. I specialize in lyrical writing but that does require rhyming and rhythm," Anwen explained her credentials before she laughed softly at the waitress and Aquilla's exchange.
Anwen gave Aquilla a polite nod and an understanding look before hurrying after the waitress, walking beside her to the Kettle.
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Gonna wait for Austin to post.))
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It takes you and the waitress half and hour to reach The Copper Kettle , which is actually a pair of two-story buildings across the street from each other, connected by a covered bridge spanning over the cobblestone street beneath your feet.
Seemingly suspended in midair under the bridge is a large copper cauldron that has been reshaped and retrofitted with a spout to resemble a tea kettle. Port Winchester's salty sea air has coated it in a blue-green patina that makes the few exposed bits of red-gold metal stand out and sparkle even brighter. The spout strategically pours a stream of honey-brown dyed hot water into a teacup shaped fountain to your right, filling the space under the bridge with a cloud of steam. A closer look reveals a hollow glass tube inside the stream of water that is pumping it back up to be recycled.
Once you can bring yourself to look at the buildings, you start with the one behind the fountain. It's bottom story is made of mossy gray stone set with bay windows and a door painted in a rich inviting red. The hardware is copper to match the kettle. The upper floor is plaster painted with a cerulean blue and framed in heavy dark wood beams. There are no windows visible from the front.
The left-side building is identical, save that the upper story is painted in a peachy pink. The bridge between is made of stone and timber. All three roofs are set with copper tile, equally verdigrised as the kettle fountain and each side has two stone chimneys. The waitress is transfixed and stares openly, mouth agape.
***
@Henry, The florist's breath catches and she snorts as she wakes suddenly. She looks around groggily and smacks her lips, trying to moisten a dry mouth. She fishes around the table top for a moment before bending to pick up a pair of bent wire glasses with a broken lens. Placing them on her face, she looks at you and Matthias and jumps back with a start. "Oh, pardon me! I was not expecting to see a city guard and a paladin in my establishment! Am I under arrest again? What was it this time? I assure you my permits are renewed and in order." She stands and begins making her way toward a door a the back of the room you never would have known was there for all of the foliage obscuring it. "Come, I can show you. And I assure you, I haven't been growing anything you need concern yourself with." She pauses with her hand on the doorknob as your words finally make it past hers and she processes them. She looks intrigued and mischievous. "Well, Mandrake Extract... that might be the exception. It'll cost you."
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Mandrake root is not necessarily illegal in that no one is allowed to grow it, but it is considered to be dangerous and as such, its production and application are heavily tariffed. Usually not worth the risk for numerous reasons, so the preconception that it's just completely illegal has been perpetuated by the less informed as a precautionary measure.))
Anwen looked up at the bridge, then the kettle, then the teacup, then the two buildings. She grinned, slightly giddy from the extensive measures they went to for appearance. “And this is one reason I travel,” Anwen whispered before taking the waitress’ hand and hurrying off to the right building to start their inquiry there. “The people, the places, the culture. All reasons to travel!”
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https://www.goodreads.com/topic/show/...))
@Anwen, The waitress nods. It's certainly very aesthetic. I should have gotten a job here!" She follows you inside.
As soon as your feet touch the red floor rug a little bell rings. You are hit with the smell of fresh tea leaves, coffee grounds, vanilla beans, and a lesser smell of port wine. A green-eyed man with fiery red hair and freckles smiles at you as he opens a black leather notebook and pulls a quill from a chest pocket inside his white coat. He looks expectant, but allows you a moment to gawk.
The dark hard wood floor glistens with a fresh coat of polish. All over the room are scattered about twenty small, round tables, each with a dark green table cloth, two dark red leather chairs and a white and gold candle that smells of vanilla set on a saucer. There is a matching green rug under each table just larger than the top surface. Most of the seats are occupied by patrons sipping from teacups and reading well-worn books. Two tables have just one occupant, and three are empty. Waiters and waitresses dressed in white pants, shoes, and gloves with dark red, green, or blue coats bustle about attending to every need.
To the left of the room is a stone fireplace large enough to walk into. There is currently no fire lit, but a few copper lanterns rest on stumps where the logs would normally sit, surrounded by garlands of ivy. The mantle is cluttered with copper kettles in numerous sizes, shapes, and levels of weathering. Tea leaves grow in each one.
To either side of the fireplace is a large curving bookshelf--- the kind that requires a sliding ladder to reach the top. As your eyes follow them up, you see that even the ceiling is painted with pictures of red-skinned fire spirits creating fire to light a campfire, green-skinned wood nymphs growing plants, and blue-skinned water spirits guiding rivers toward a knight errant depicted in the center of the mural brewing tea in a copper kettle--- The Copper Kettle. Copper and crystal chandeliers are hung strategically so as to avoid obscuring the mural.
The right side of the wall is all gray stone. Waist high stones surround a koi pond where you can see copper coins scattered about the bottom. Water streams over from copper pipes near the ceiling like a waterfall.
At the far end of the room, the hardwood floor gives way to white tile offset by the occasional dark blue tile. A pair of swinging double doors lead into the kitchen. To either side is a curved staircase going up to the next floor with a dark blue runner.
"Good afternoon! How may I help you?" The greeter says once he knows you've had enough time to take in all the sights. "You appear to be a traveling minstrel of some persuasion by your garb, unless I miss my mark." He observes looking you over as he cleans the nib of his writing utensil. "I'm afraid the theater hall and bedrooms are across the street. But you are welcome to sit for a hot beverage and a good book or enjoy the bathhouse and sauna upstairs before making your way across the street." He taps his quill nib against the lip of an ink pot. "May I have your name?"
***
@Henry,
The woman looks at you sourly. "What do two supposed law abiding types want with Mandrake anyway? I hardly think I'm the only, or perhaps even most, suspicious person in this shop right now. I've been very open. Would you not agree?"
"And speaking of being open..."She speaks again before you can answer and opens the back door and are attacked with the smell of mold, garlic and stagnant water and something rotten or fermented. You see it is about half the size of the first room.
One corner has a small make-shift "kitchenette", with rough wood planks balanced precariously on empty crates and a rain barrel serving as countertops. The barrel has a spigot, like those use to tap maple trees, spiked into it. A slow leak drips into a reddish puddle slowly spreading across the concrete floor. A few boards are nailed to the wall as shelves, laden with a broken or chipped dishes, some of them still with bits of dried food. More dishes are piled in a claw-foot tub full of dirty water and, to the woman's credit, half a bar of lye soap.
A pot of some unidentifiable liquid you hope is soup bubbles on top of a cast iron wood stove with a crooked chimney. You didn't see smoke from the chimney outside and suspect the flue might be shut.
A hundred or so corked glass bottles, filled at different levels with various colored liquid. the opposite corner. Some are stacked up in towers like children's blocks and some are scattered about. More than a few lay on their sides and one of the tower's spires lays in a half-million tiny shards. A battered broom stick lays in the midst of the wreckage, likely having fallen from where it had been leaned against the wall, plastered with newspapers, an eviction notice from two years prior, tickets for various fines, an herbology license, and an out of date business license.
Garlic and other herbs hang from the rafters. A ladder leans against one of the wood ceiling beams. A sheet of plywood laid across three of the beams, a nest of old couch cushions, and a sleeping bag must be her bedroom.
The entire rest of the floor space is filled with ceramic flowerpots full of dirt with long ovular green leaves sprouting out in an overlapping pattern, like rose petals. A door stands partially ajar at the far end of the room, held open by a stone frog statue.
"I have a business to run so I can pay off some debts and buy some new furniture. You know where I can get a good chair, by the way? Not the ladder-back kind with all the bars. They hurt my back."
((I can respond tomorrow but maaan the notifications were confusing the living daylights out of me. Pulp free? What’s Pulp??))
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((Ha! Nice.))Anwen had been about to ask the waitress a question about looking for work before she was amazed by the architecture and decor.
Anwen slowly took in the entire room, spinning around herself to take in all in. She was struck with the sudden need to learn the lore of this Kettle but quickly shook her head.
Anwen keeps a grin on her face as she makes her way up to the front desk. She glanced down at her robes and gave a small laugh before, nodding.
“Good afternoon! Oh dear, I knew whatever building I picked it would of course be the other one,” Anwen sighed but kept her smile. “My name? I certainly don’t mind giving it but traveling has taught me the importance of a name. Is this a guest log or a visitor log of sorts?”
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"Firstly, if the theater was, in fact, as you claim, your intended destination, and you had entered the pink building across the street, you would have found what you were seeking. Were you, perhaps, under the impression that the interior space within was or would be capable of shifting from one location to the other and/or vise-versa? Very non-Euclidean of you." He dips the quill and lets the ink chamber fill.
"Secondly, Yes! This is indeed a guest book or a visitor log of sorts. Very perceptive!" There is no hint of irony or sarcasm in his voice as He hands you the utensil.
"Thirdly, your concern regarding your name is to be commended.
You are clearly more well-traveled than I assumed. But I assure you, your caution is misplaced. We at The Copper Kettle take identity fraud very seriously. We would be honored to receive our guests without guise or pretense. However, should you wish to provide an alias, moniker, nom-de-plume or sobriquet, it shall be respected. However squared--- that is, to the power of two--- we sincerely request--- nay, I daresay, we beg you to withhold, exclude, or forego any titles or honorifics, please!" He puts his palms together and holds his hands out in a pleading gesture then straightens. "Ahem!" He clears his throat.
"That being said, should you still wish to conceal your identity, I have a few suggestions."
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((Roll persuasion with advantage.))
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((Can I roll Investigation or Insight to figure out what the expression slip up was?))
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((Was hoping you would. Make an insight check.))
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((Something about your mistrust struck a nerve, but it was more about why he thinks you are mistrusting. When he said, 'You are clearly more well-traveled than I assumed.', he was implying that he thinks you've been somewhere that would demand such an attitude.))
((You sneaky dm. Alright. Fair. I’ll post when I can tomorrow.))
Anwen had raised her eyebrow at the beginning of the Maitre D' speech before she laughed softly. "Luck being what luck is, it may be very non-Euclidean of me but luck still finds a way."However, I am very happy to write my name," she reassured. Anwen took the pen and swiftly wrote her name with a flourish, having practiced her penmanship often growing up and slowly developed her own kind of signature. "Anwen Blodwen, pleased to make your acquaintance. While the amenities here sound more than wonderful, not only am I currently in the pursuit of earning money but also have an appointment to keep after. Is there anything about the pink building I should know about before heading over to inquire about entertainment work?"
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