A Fitting Beginning

Log Info

• Title: A Fitting Beginning
• Emitter: Jay
• Characters: Jay, Robert, Lauriel, Ravenstongue
• Place: A02: Lower Trades District
• Time: Saturday, March 26, 2022, 9:26 PM
• Summary: Lauriel happens by the Ilife Smithy while Bob an Jay discuss leases and liabilities. Pothy proceeds Ravenstongue and the quintet find themselves exchanging introductions. The two men share some of their shared past and the sorceress hints at her exotic heritage. The forge is abandoned when two birds need feeding.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=<* A02: Lower Trades District *>=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The Lower Trades District is the home of the working man of Alexandria. The Lower Trades is divided, unofficially, into two parts: that controlled by the gobbers, and that controlled by the khazad. The two areas stand in contrast, one with a strong, almost formal architecture and a predilection for blacksmiths, the other a mixture of propped-up rubble and gunpowder. The latter's started to grow however, and take form with the aid of the more structured Arvek Nar. Still, the two stand as uneasy neighbors, though the oruch more easily work both sides, often in the spirit of a friendly, if competitive, warriors' competition that's unique to Alexandria, itself.

Here, the "khazad section" boasts a number of blacksmiths, glass smiths, artifice shops, and basic taverns, as well as any number of trades shops and eateries. The sweet tinge of oil, iron, and spiced BBQ is everywhere. Shrines to Reos, or marks of the same, are found over most doorways, in homage to the khazad Mountain Father and World Smith.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  Appearing  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jay          5'9"     145 Lb     Eaglefolk         Male      A perky male Blue Jay with a discerning eye.
Lauriel      4'11"    114 Lb     Dawn Elf          Female    Stout elf wearing a tree.
Robert       6'3"     235 Lb     Human             Male      A middle-aged Cerenzan with a friendly, fatherly vibe.    
Ravenstongue 5'0"     99 Lb      Half-Elf          Female    Short half-elf girl with violet eyes and black hair.
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=

The Lower Trades: Robert's Forge.

A blue-jay Egalrin is seated on a barrel, holding a folder and shuffling through it page by page with the diligent attention of a woodpecker chasing bugs beneath the bark. Take the page, stare, ruffle, flip, take the next.

Sometimes he uses his beak as a pointer to follow a line of writing from one side to the other, or while he examines 'the fine print'. "It looks ok! Ok. You don't want an unapplied signage variant request to pop out of no-where. Looks like the neighbours are notified that you will be working with exotic metals."

The forge is just that, really, and little else; a plot of land delineated by a low stone-and-mortar wall, an awning, and the forge. Several smaller bits and bobs you need for a smithies are scattered around but beyond the above-listed items and the two horn anvil on a stump it's all immediately pack up- and portable.

Bob rests his rump on the anvil, currently, and looks up from his pad and pen. "I'm still not sure I understand," he admits with a quiet laugh. There's a gesture with the pen, he waves the feathered end around and ignores the meager bit of ink dripping on his leather apron. "It's a lease... and obviously a smithy's, too. If anything I'd expect all this contract work to fall on the landlord once I've paid him."

He's not being hostile; he's genuinely curious. His artificer's kit is by his feet and the forge is cool at the moment. He's in the planning stages, it seems.

Lauriel is walking by, enjoying the Spring weather, such as it is. That and getting to know the city. And more importantly where all the best palces to get tools, artifice and magical things to help support her own artifice pursuits.

It's Jay she spots first. The bue feathers standing out and then the familiar face of Robert. She smiles and alters her path to head over to them. "Good day! I'm glad to see you better, Integrity. And to see you again Robert."

"Yes. Yes! Except." The bluejay flips back to the front. "Normally it would be a sub-et with the principle landlord handling all civic issues but there's a clause, 'operating permitting not included'."

He strikes one of his wings up in a 'a-ha', gesture, "So I started digging. That's the breadcrumb. That's the clue, why the rent is so low, why the forge keeps changing ownership every month or two. There may be a scheme where it needs to be a rental property to hold it for some other project."

His head whips out of the sheaf of papers as he focuses on the dawn elf's arrival. "Lauriel! Lauriel! Hello, hi hi! Yes. The Soldier's Defense provided adequate care. Allegedly!"

And like a saving grace (or utter annoyance--a matter of perspective, really), there's a white raven that flies in--and lands at Bob's feet. "Snacks?" he asks, looking up at the paternal man with bright and shiny blue eyes.

This raven has clearly never been fed. Never. Not in the history of ravens, not once, not ever. "Snacks? Snacks? Please!" he says, although the last word is mimicking a girl's voice--

That happens to match the voice of the half-elf girl that rushes in after the white raven, her black braid swinging behind her as she dives to the ground and scoops up the corvid. "Pothy! Gods, I though you were done with this behavior," she says with a sigh.

The half-elf's violet eyes sweep around at Robert, Lauriel, and Jay. "I'm so sorry," she says. "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"So it's a conspiracy?" Bob asks Jay with a broadening smile, making a last note before tucking the quill behind his ear and the pad into the big bottom pocket of his apron.

"Ah, my Goblintown acquaintances rally, hello," He waves 'hello' to Lauriel and continues talking to the egalrin. "I think, today, the C. stands for cockamam-- eh?"

There's a bird at his feet. A poor, piteous creature that's wasting away. A strong gust may send it tumbling into the aether never to be seen again. "Hullo, little fella," greets the massive Cerenzan. He twists and collects a crumpled bit of greasy newspaper from the opposite end of the anvil, twisting it open and dropping the cold chips to the ground. "These were destined for the bin, anyhow..."

The artificer pats the air at Ravenstongue's apology. "He-- Pothy, was it?-- isn't causing any harm. I'm afraid this is a forge, though, and not the alchemist or a-pothy-caries."

Lauriel grins at the two males and then the arrival of Pothy has her brows rising and then chuckling as the small beggar looks for food. The half elf that follows after gets a smile and a nod. "No worries from me, miss. I'd just arrived myself. And as Robert says there's no food here, sadly." She looks the white bird over and nods to the familiar. "Hello, Pothy."

"Oh! A white raven! A white raven's owner! Albino or leucistic?" Integrity is captivated by the smaller bird. "Beautiful Plumage!" <Auran>

"It's not an interruption. I'm reading Bob's contract to see what he's been made responsible for without his knowledge." More page flipping, "The neighbour notification is the big stick, looks like if they object then... well you can rent the forge space but you can't use it for smithing, and either way it's a breach of contract and you won't get the first and last back."

"This is weird. It's like the owner doesn't want anyone here for long periods of time." The bluejay looks around, there's nothing unusual about the site. "It's for Clarity! Clarity is my middle name. You know I'd never leave you hanging."

Pothy looks at the chips that are tossed to the ground, looking at them longingly. He glances at his mistress, who regards him with a certain /look/ from her violet eyes, and... he clams up. He whistles a little to her.

But she seems unmoved, choosing instead to look at Integrity. "He's leucistic, I suppose--blue eyes and pale feathers, rather than pink eyes and pale feathers. It's sort of moot, though--he's my familiar, who I inherited from my mother, who inherited him from her father... so on and so forth. But he's not good for much besides snacks--"

"SNACKS," Pothy exclaims. The half-elf purses her lips together and just pulls out a handful of what appears to be dried fruit from her dress pockets.

Now that she's bought Pothy's silence, his mistress smiles, particularly at Bob. "That's a funny one," she says. "I don't really have a reason to be in a forge, and I'm afraid I'm not much use with legal things, but meeting new people isn't always bad--umm, call me Cor'lana. Or Ravenstongue. They mean the same thing once you translate it."

"Rob... or Bob, please. My mother called me Robert," he grins at Lauriel, waving her 'in.' There's no door, just a break in the low wall that sees enough traffic for there to be an obvious path dug into the ground. Wide enough for a small wagon or large cart. "How are you finding the city? Have you setup shop yourself, yet?"

The red-skinned man glances side-eye to Jay worrying himself with contractual matters only to be distracted by the unfamiliar familiar. "Mister Truefeather... we still need to take your measurements." He holds up a looped bit of thread with knots at intervals used for measuring. "I trust you're capable of untangling that rat's nest for me but if I don't know your sizes you'll going to end up looking like a veil dancer with your tummy hanging out."

There's a gentle shaking of his head and he's looking back at Ravenstongue. "Good evening, Cor'lana. I'm Robert Ilife-- but call me Bob-- and this is Integrity C. Truefeather and I've only recently met miss Lauriel," he nods at the dawn elf.

Lauriel can't help but chuckle at the captive bird. She does seem surprised y the bird's age though. "That's impressive. How old does that make him? Or should I ask you, Pothy? I've never heard of a familiar that old except from the older elven sages." She nods to Bob. "Bob it is then. And no, no shop. I'm a tinkerer. More interested in ..well in my own form of artifice. Or arbor-fice is you will." She taps her wooden armor.

"Okay! That's breathtaking. You're breathtaking." The blue-jay tells the leucistic-raven, knocking larger beak to much smaller beak. "Breathtaking!"

Then he's back to metaphorically beating his head against a wall, woodpecking through the legal files. "You need a couple signatures Bob! Signatures. I can get them, but you might have to trade. How do you feel about making a free set of pots or a sword?"

He hops off the barrel and bows to Ravenstongue with a sweep of his brightly coloured wing, "Integrity C. Truefeather, Esquire at your service! Reasonable rates and even more reasonable retainers, especially for Adventurers! Last minute affairs in order are my specialty!"

He has a pack of wills on emergency quick-draw.

"Okay! The measurements!" The bluejay egalrin spins and holds his arms and wings out, leaning against Robert. Head tilted back, he whispers, "Read them larger than they are, there are laaaaadies present." It wasn't much of a whisper. "Arbor-Fice, that's good, that's good!"

Pothy seems far more interested in dried fruits than in being asked about his age. While some people might consider inquiring about someone's age to be rude, it's more likely that Pothy simply doesn't find the question interesting because it has very little to do with snacks.

Cor'lana, as she's introduced herself, smiles at the nice paternal-seeming man. "Bob it is," she says with a nod. "It's nice to meet you.

"Nice to meet you," Pothy echoes, mimicking his mistress. He snaps another dried fruit morsel from her hands.

Cor'lana looks to Lauriel and smiles. "I haven't been able to get an exact number out of Pothy--but it's safe to say it's been a long time, and... well, let's just say I have interesting bloodlines. He's an odd bird, and so am I."

Violet eyes glide over to the pack of wills, then back up to the bluejay. "Thank you, but I'm afraid the legalese around my will and estate are /quite/ complicated. I'm sure my Grandfather has it handled."

"We are prone to our machinations..." Bob admits, grinning over Jay at Cor'lana. "'Don't buy Oliwia a rattle with cymbals on the outside. It's too loud. We can't sleep...'" Bob mutters idly as he counts the knots with his eyes, his voice pitched up half an octave. "Maybe grandpa wants you to be so tired you need a break so HE can spend time with baby Oliwia..."

The artificer pauses occasionally to make notes on his pad, fishing it out and the pen from behind his ear. He might 'accidentally' ruffle the feathers on Jay's crown, teasing the preening-prone birdman while trying to hide an amused smile.

"But if anyone is equal to the task it's my good friend and comrade in arms, I.C. here," he adds, circling around back. Then, to Lauriel, he offers a nod. "I can understand that. Focus. And drive. Specializing." He offers an approving wink. "But if you ever want to... branch out?" he gestures around the forge with his hands holding quill and pad. "I'm happy to share the space, miss."

Lauriel laughs at Bob's joke and nods. "I would be happy to assist you if you need help as well. Even if not working on my own things I can learn a lot. Thank you for the offer." She nods to Raventongue's answer. "I understand.. I think. A curious response. One that was me wondering at your family but it would be rude to ask in diverse company."

Then to the legal eagle. "You are certainly dedicated to finding things out. Perhaps seeing things that aren't there? But it does sound strange. Wanting to rent the place but not for long periods of time."

"I don't want to go out on a limb singing Bob's praises, but he's got a craft for the graft! I'm sure you two together could come up with an interesting hybrid." Integrity says, arms and wings still out for measurements, his chest puffed up oh, just a little. He has to sneak a hand to adjust his head crest. This is how he likes it.

"There might be a simple reason for rotating renters, but why settle for a simple reason when there might be a complex one! Always follow the money! And if there's no money to follow there must be another reason. Another reason!"

The bluejay is glancing at the dried fruit that Pothy is enjoy. There's a second glance, not like it's a hint. "Where did you get the fruit, Cor'lana? Is there more? Good prices?"

GAME: Ravenstongue rolls Perception+2: (3)+4+2: 9
GAME: Robert rolls Perception: (8)+7: 15

Cor'lana sighs a little as Rob makes his comment on the nature of grandfathers. "Well," she says, a smile slowly creeping onto her face again, "Grandfather would /love/ if I went and had children, but I think for now, he'll have to make do with doting on Pothy. He's basically a child. Very needy, but also pretty cute."

She puts a little kiss onto Pothy's beak. "Wow!" Pothy exclaims happily in Cor'lana's voice.

She looks back to Lauriel and that smile takes on... a curious quality. It's something like an impish grin. "Let's just say my family could be the stuff of... fairy tales."

And she leaves it at that as she turns to Integrity's question. "Oh, I buy all of Pothy's snacks from the market. Lots of people sell all sorts of dried and fresh goodies that keep for a while, which is important. I sometimes go on adventures, and that means I have to have plenty of food for him. Not that he /needs/ it, mind you. He just demands it because he feels it's his right."

"Snacks," Pothy chimes in. Cor'lana's hand has run empty of snacks, and that means it's time to request more!

The dawn elf looks apologetic. She tilts her helmet up, rubs at her head, "Well, my nogging is a thobbin, it's time for me to make like a tree and leave." She bows, and walks away, creaking like an oak in a hurricane.

"Snacks," Jay echoes Pothy, "in the market. Okay. Your story sounds unique. You should write an outline so no one can steal it, fictionalize it in the Crimson Pen. This happens a lot. A lot!"

He waves a warning with a wing, squares up and moves his tail. "Do you need my tail up or tail down for measuring? I'll be able to fly with this, right Bob?"

"Can you fly now..?" Bob wonders, clapping Jay on the shoulder and giving him a light squeeze. He's putting the thread away with his other hand and moving out from behind the egalrin. "It won't slow you down, I promise. I'll fit it so well you'll almost forget you're wearing it... and it'll weigh less than the leathers you had on for the bees."

The big man steps around the space, taking his thread, quill, and pad, and dropping them into a large tote that's already open and half-unpacked. He waves Lauriel off and stands back up, turning to Cor'lana.

"You don't have to rush into kids," Bob offers as he unbuckles his apron and pulls the bib loop over his head. He starts folding the leather protective wear and gives the half-elf a second look, brief but appraising. "You've got all the time in the world... and you'll know when you're ready." He drops the apron atop the tote and crosses his arms. "The Tsura have a saying; 'a blessing rushed is a curse.'"

He grins, warmly, and looks into the middle-distance for a heartbeat. Blinking, he looks up and points a finger, "... but if you tell my youngest I said that I'll deny it vehemently and my lawyer will sue for... something..?"

Cor'lana just has a very tight line on her face now at the mention of the Crimson Pen. "I don't think my life story has quite enough... Ummm, intimate encounters, for one of the Crimson Pen novels. That's sort of their whole thing."

She looks over at Bob, curious as to what work has to be done--looking over the blue jay from crested tip to the feet. "Are you getting fitted for... armor?" she asks. "Or something else? I'm surprised Bob's letting you talk while getting measured--although I've never been fitted for armor. Just dresses."

The half-elf nods to Bob's advice. "I have roughly a century to get around to it, which I think I will plan on taking. ...Is Integrity your lawyer, too, or just a client?"

"Lawyer! Client! Almost son-in-law, almost daughter-in-law too! It depends how that is counted." Integrity flaps his wings, his beak open wide. "Armour! I'm being fitted for armour. This fetching leather suit is not as protective as I hoped. I got stung! Badly. Wasps."

He hops closer to Cor'lana, "There's a bunch of strange wasp hives in the city, and we cleared some out of honeybee hives. However they have been sighted in lots of places."

"Funny thing is they are called hell wasps but the abduration to ban demons didn't affect them. That almost sounds like a class action suit in the making." He looks over at Robert, back at Cor'lana, "The Egalrin have a saying, 'the early bird gets the worm'. So don't wait a century or you'll just get dried up worms."

Bob coughs and gives his face a quick rub, looking over the hand hiding his smile to offer Cor'lana an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, young lady, we seem to've converted to an unsolicited advice shoppe for the evening." The hand drops away and he starts rolling down his sleeves.

"... I think the C stands for in-Corrigible," he asides to Jay.

"We've known each other for years now; met in Sendor originally. My family had resettled there after Dragonier." He's buttoning his cuffs. "It'd been years since then, though, and we just bumped into each other here... blind luck."

After a quick circuit of the space, he's sure he's all packed away. The Cerenzan lifts up the tote and slings it over a shoulder. "I.C. wears a lot of hats but he's a good lad and a friend, foremost."

The thin line on Cor'lana's face gives way to that of curiosity as Integrity speaks on hellwasps. "Interesting," she says quietly, raising a hand to her chin in thought. "Hellwasps... Hellwasps. Hmm. I think I have heard a bit about that, but my efforts have been wrapped up in the Greatwood and my own personal affairs recently."

She looks to Pothy, who still looks at her with begging-raven eyes. There's another sigh, and then she slips a hand into her pocket to bring out more dried fruit. "There, silly bird," she murmurs, before she turns back to Robert and nods. "I'm a pretty firm believer in fate, especially as of late," she says. "Sometimes, you just find the people who you need despite the odds of you ever meeting--or meeting again."

The half-elf smirks. "I promise those kind of thoughts sound better in my Sildanyari and Sylvan poetry. I guess if it's an unsolicited advice shop, I'm bringing my unsolicited poetry. And unsolicited Pothy."

"We moved too, there, from Dragonieer. I think. You don't realize when you're small if you're in this country or that. We were in one Aerie, had to move, and then we were in a different Aerie." Integrity hops about, mostly out of Robert's way, and adjusts his waistcoat.

"Poetry? Oh! I also orate, and it's useful to have when filibustering during a case! Being able to go on and on can be important! Important." The bluejay preens his shoulder-feather, slipping all of the papers into his briefcase. "I'll hit up the neighbours tomorrow for signatures and let you know what things you end owing them."

"Anyhow, the wasps are unusual. They shouldn't have been active through the winter."

"Your point was well made in the common tradetongue," Bob opines with an approving smile. "Better than it would've been in either of those other languages for me, at least... as I don't understand them." He chuckles a self-deprecating laugh.

"But your poetry is always welcome. The Muse has always been chief in the family's shrine an my wife was one of Her inspirations." He tilts his head to one side and points, indicating a forged steel charm nailed to the awning over the entrance; a wreath encircling a tongue of flame. The big man continues to grin.

Then he nods at Jay. "I'd like to be here for awhile... and on good terms with my other craftsmen in the trenches. So your unfiltered observations... maybe a little filtered, I.C." He winks.

"Well, I /could/ recite my poetry, but I'm better at writing it, I think," Cor'lana says, a bit of a sheepish sense to her smile now. "Although I did win a poetry slam at one of the cafes that Pothy likes frequenting a couple of weeks ago. We won enough snacks to keep him fed for three days."

Pothy croaks happily. The twinkle in his blue eyes must be from recalling an endless amount of sweetrolls.

His half-elf mistress has a similar look in her eyes as she looks at Bob and his last comment. "Yeah, people can be a bit... Particular, around here," she says. "It's hard to deal with people sometimes. I've... had to learn how to do that all on my own."

She clears her throat to dispel the sudden sullen note. "But, I get better every day."

"Filtering! Right. Well no sense to telegraph the defense." Integrity agrees, flapping around the forge and looking under things. It's unclear what he's searching for. "Well they are nicer than Blar! Less suggestions of battery."

"The important thing, especially if it looks like they're going to bully you, is get in the first posturing!" He stands, hands on hips and wings on hips, "Like a cat, fluff up and make a lot of noise so they know it'll be an uphill battle! Half of the time it works every time!"

"... or run," Robert offers, a note of concern creeping into his warm expression. He pinches a spare bit of down from Jay's coat and then brushes his breast. He'd noticed it when the egalrin made a point to puff-up.

The big man stops himself before he sets into readjusting how the coat sits and takes a step back. Old habits. He distracts himself by turning and smiling at Cor'lana, "Well. If you ever need practice space I'm always happy for the company while I'm working... and you'd stand safe beneath the Muse," he grins, nodding again at the emblem.

There's a look down in thought and his hands wrap around the strap of his tote. "I could never do justice to her favorite, but..." he nods his head slowly, remembering.

"I have the whole world... when I hold you in my arms

A forever thing, your loving means, beyond all earthly harms.

And when we dance I have this chance to know eternal bliss

I close my eyes and take my prize, my lover's sacred kiss."

The big ol' bloke grins and nods, "Yetta would've remembered the first line in full, though."

"Well, last time I was face-to-face with my stepmother, I cast a charm spell on her and told her to--" Cor'lana's eyes dart back to Bob from Integrity's lecture on verbal self-defense and she wilts a little. It somehow doesn't seem right to curse in front of the man. "... To walk off. Angrily. And she did. So that tends to be what I do if I really can't handle a social occasion."

She listens to Bob's recitation and smiles again, a certain warmth in that expression. "That sounds lovely, Bob," she says. "I admittedly am not much of a fan of poetry in the common tongue--a lot of the time, it sounds too clunky--but I'll have to bring that one home to my fiance later. He'd probably like it."

Pothy croaks again as he's finished with all of the dried fruit in Cor'lana's hand. The sorceress pouts a little. "Done? Already? Pothy, I have to go find you some more now!"

"Snacks! /Snaaaacks!/" Pothy laments. For a creature implied to be very old, he certainly whines like a child.

Cor'lana sighs and pats Pothy on the head. "I probably shouldn't take up any more of your time here, anyway. You have important things to do--like forging armor to keep your friend safe. And Integrity has... legal documents to work on."

That second one doesn't seem like she's so convinced of its importance.

Integrity is busy noting down Robert's poem, perhaps for translation into Auran and some private performances. Scribble, scratch, scratch. He writes quickly in illegible lines. His head pops up from his work, "Oh! Charms! That's one way of handling people!"

He nudge the older man, "We should go for dinner and drinks soon. Don't you have an anniversary coming up?"

"It was very nice meeting you and Pothy, Cor'lana. Hope to see you soon." The bluejay bows again.

"I'm always happy to make a new friend and I've got nothing but time these days," Bob grins at Cor'lana. "Your fiance is a lucky man and your Pothy a lucky familiar. Just mind your snacks, my pale, feathered friend; my boys went overboard treating our hound and the poor thing almost got to where he wouldn't fit through the door."

A glance at Jay. A nod, his grin spreading. "The family I live next to has invited me to supper. Their grandmother likes to hear my stories about my Yetta and she's old enough to even make me feel young," the Cerenzan laughs. "You could join us, I.C. but I'm sure your time is better spent getting to know that Slixvah."

Robert takes a few steps towards the break in the low wall with his tote. Apparently, he's on his way out for the night.

"Oh, that's the curious thing about him," Cor'lana says with a smile as she makes to leave the forge. "Pothy's never gained or shed a single pound. I suppose that's the benefit of being magic."

"SNACKS!" Pothy demands again, rather insistent. Cor'lana's smile is rattled since, well, he more or less shouted it into her ear.

She looks back to Integrity and Bob, trying to maintain her happy countenance. "Well, I hope the two of you have a pleasant evening," she says, and she slips out.

It's not too long before one can hear a cry of "SNACKS!" off in the distance, followed by an exasperated groan. Phenomenal charming powers apparently don't mean a thing to a snack-obsessed bird.

"Oh?" Flap, "Food?" Flap. "Free food? You know there's no such thing as a free dinner, right? The grandmother, she's got plans for you. You're still a catch Robert, you should have someone there to watch your back. I'll watch your back."

He waves as Ravenstongue and Pothy head off.

"You need a chaperone. I, fortunately, am available. And. And! We can get that signature. It's prefect." He slips a wing over the older man's shoulder, ready to follow him into hell, or dinner with the neighbours.

"Alright, I.C. but it won't be a working dinner..." Robert grins, clapping the egalrin on the back. "We're headed into the theatre district. Maybe if you don't fall prey to one of the eligible children you can come by and see the house after we're done eating..."