[1] Dolby said: "You're going to spoil me,and then what will you do with me?"
Big Dipper
Comet
ConstellationIndi-Com
Indigo Nebula
Neo-ZoneGalaxy
Orbital Anomaly
Outworld
>Skywriting
Starfield
Wormhole
LOG: Omens, Portents and Wakes: All characters are © their creators, except for Dolby who is © Indigo. Note, this log is from DOLBY'S point of view.
4/6/2002 The Bizarre -- Epidaurus Beta
Laid out in fairly traditional amphitheatre style, this open-air theatre boasts a stage large enough for compact theatrical productions as well as for speakers and individual performers. The partial circle of seats faces away from the street, and each tier is spaced widely enough to accomodate even some of the larger denizens of the Dreamlands, while the steps are shallow enough for most of the smallest.
Stage, steps, and seating alike are all carved from marble, but the tone of the marble is different for each: the stage itself is a pleasant gray and pink, finished roughly to avoid excess glare; the stairs are marked out in deep black with tiny white veins; the seating is white with black and red threading through it.
Soft yellow lighting picks out the paths of the stairways and are also inobtrusively set to mark the start of each row of seating; the light from them fades quickly to not obscure the vision of the attendees.
The Band
The band is set up like an old 1940s swing session, behind little placards which read JS/LFP, short for their full name: Jack Sprat and the Lean & Fat Players. The band's front man, Jack, is a tall, suave satyr with dark hair, blue bedroom eyes, and a full, rich voice. The rest of the band is nockers and boggans. A brawny, thick-necked nocker mans the drum kit. The horn section is led by a slick-haired Hispanic boggan on saxophone. He's accompanied on trombone by another boggan who seems to be playing his music with a fervor to forestall the descent of grumpdom. There's a little nocker boy who is genius on the clarinet, and little Reginald, amazing on the 88 keys. They've added a fiew pieces to their ensemble tonight -- a teenage boggan girl is on the hammer dulcimer. A nocker boy with thick glasses is on acoustic guitar. A nocker girl who can only be his sister is on the mandolin, playing backup. A satyr boy who looks to be kin to Jack himself is on the pan-pipes, and the whole thing is quite literally rounded out by an avuncular boggan grump on -- various instruments pulled from a trunk at his side as needed.
The Band's Songlist:
1. The Opening - Amazing Grace
2. She's Dead
3. Finnegan's Wake
4. I'll Be
5. Good Bye, Good Bye Dear Sister
6. FINALE: My Way - Punk Style
--We Take Requests!--
Dolby(#5933PXc)
Glamour sizzle-buzzes like neon lightning around her, burning brightly even against the dull veneer of the mundane. This wilder Nocker has dazzling electric blue-white eyes and hair like electric static snow to the eyes of the Dreaming. Her hair is long and white, with highlights of blue, silver, and lavender -- falling to her waist. A most unusual ornament is woven from wire and hangs in front of her over her heart at all times. Elegant, long ears that taper to a point spike their way past her hair to jut out from her head. Her skin is ruddyish brown, faded to nearly nothing by the customary pallor of her kith. Whorls of crimson like trails of animated neon circle both cheeks. Her figure is modest; the slender articulation of her kith accents the length of her legs and her fingers. Her waist is tiny, her hips slim. Even her breasts are small; but her legs just seem to go on and on, beyond the 5'10" she actually takes up. Little arcs and sparkles of electric-blue and white glamour leap from her eyes and occasionally zap off her like static electricity. The glamour surrounding her is like hyperactive static electricity, often containing a faint hint of music, like a radio that is having a hard time keeping hold of a distant station.
She is wearing a very tiny dress. The spaghetti straps, and a lot of wishful thinking are the only things holding it onto the distinctly feminine curves of her slight body. It shines like metal, and moves like liquid, like crepe, like disturbed flowerpetals. It comes no further than mid-thigh in the front, and plummets to the ground with a long transparent skirt from the hips to the back that puddles behind her in a fall of blood red silk with black and shimmery highlights. The back is all but nonexistant, starting at her lower back and only continuing downward from there. All back in the back; all legs in the front.
Dolby looks at Markie:
Markie's hair is braided down the center of his head, the rest of his head is bald, sleek and shiny. He's sporting a black pin stripe jacket that was obviously picked up at a thrift store, probably many years ago. The jacket covers a colorless black button up shirt, that is obviously of a much higher quality, and a much more expensive brand name, than the coat. The shirt fits rather snug, and show's off the mans toned torso. A pair of slacks rounds out the outfit. Yup, you guessed it. Black. But at least they aren't his usual leather fare. Not much to say about them, other than that the guy obviously took the time to at least iron them. The overall presentation definatly looks nice, and compliments the mans features, but it's still not exactly what you'd called eloquent or refined.
Dolby is on the stage with a flagon of mead, which she is sipping --slowly.
Markie is wandering up towards the stage. "Sup, Powers. Some kid in the Piazza said you wanted to ask me something?"
Raymond wanders in, wearing his black suit with some nocker-pattern adornments.
Dolby nods at Markie. "I was hoping you'd sing tonight, Markie. 'My Way,' your way."
Dolby inclines her head politely to Celia and Corwin. "Thank you for coming."
Markie quirks a brow. "Sinatra?"
Dolby nods at Markie. "Well, yeah. Can you think of a more Kel song to jam out at a wake with?"
Markie nods, grinning. "Well, I never knew Kel, but I can dig some Sinatra, especially if it's for one of our own." Markie wanders up onto the stage, approaching Jack. "You do punk, kid?"
Stepping inside so shortly after one another that whichever enterring first becomes moot, the Inquisitor and Celia pause for a moment at the door, finishing whatever they were discussing outside in respect. The former glances up at being address, his demeanor an unblemish glacier, and bows in the direction of the stage, giving only that in return, any words unsaid.
Raymond is standing around quietly, with his hands in his pockets.
Jack chuckles slowly. "We're mostly swing man, but if you give us a lead, we follow all right." He claps his fellow satyr on the shoulder agreeably. "The point of a wake is to make that joyful noise -- if you and the D-lady there say it's fitting, then we'll make it fit."
Celia inclines her head to Dolby, her expression less cool. In fact, that might be a vague smile at the corners of her lips.
Markie ponders for a moment. "Hmmm. Swing. I can dig that shit." Markie clears his throat, and does his best Brian Seltzer impression. Something about a cat or something.
Sounds can be heard now and then from the band as they tune up. The boggan dulcimer player is gazing with wide eyes at Markie. She nudges the boy beside her. "That...that's Markie Swindle! I saw him in a club out west before I moved here!" She gasps, and covers her mouth, blushing, lest her voice carry.
Markie finishes his mini-vocal warm up, and winks at the kid with the Dulcimer. "One and the same, kid." He wanders over to Dolby. "I'll sing for ya, on one condition..."
The Inquisitor pauses for a moment, then gestures Celia towards the seats in the middle right tier. He says something quietly, easily drowned out by the conversation on the stage and distance.
Dolby lowers her mug of mead, apparently seeking courage at the bottom of her flagon. "You just name it, Markie Swindle." Odd, but she almost always addresses him that way -- on anybody else, it'd be uncomfortable formality, but from Dolby, at least, it is warmly affectionate. She steps down from the stage to hear Markie's condition for his performance.
Celia considers the stage for a moment, then nods to Corwin and steps toward the seats. Celia sits down somewhere on the Middle Right Tier.
On the stage, Dolby is fighting a tremble, but it's not all that successful. She at least isn't spilling Leopold's mead.
There's a reason why actors and muscians take stage names. To make themselves and their names more memorable. Who on earth would remember Mark Smith? Markie chuckles "I love it when ya call me that Powers." He winks at the Nocker. "So, my boon, so to speak." He pauses. "Oh shit. I havent seen you in days. I never told you. The band finished the album. I wanna use the Power Station for the CD Release party. I havent been able to find a good enough venue yet."
Janet walks into the amphitheater. Her face is carefully blank, but she's fiddling with her necklace rather obsessively. She nods at the people she knows, and takes her backpack off.
Corwin sits down somewhere on the Middle Right Tier.
Dolby brightens at Markie. "Seriously? You are -so- on!" She bends to kiss Markie gently. "Totally congrats, chere. I will of course take the requisite celebrity photo to hang up in the Parlor." She notes new arrivals, and smiles warmly, if stiffly to Janet, to Cess, to Tinker and to Chloe. "Thank you all for coming."
Chloe steps into the Amphitheatre with Tinker, her glowing hand in his.
Janet doesn't smile back, just nods at Dolby. "Thank you for having it," she says. "I don't think I could organize another wake for..." she trails off, shaking her head. "Never mind. Just...thank you."
Dolby nods tightly at Janet, brows lifting, then lowering in a silent show of sympathy, if not understanding.
Cess stomps in, not really in mourning gear but for a black armband, looking thoroughly hesitant about being here. She shoots an offhand wave to Dolby, then shoves her hands back in her pockets. "Howdy," she greets, then looks around curiously at all the others, and the ampitheater.
Markie thinks for a moment. "That was too easy. I'm gonna push my luck. How about you let me play for the Grand Opening?" He takes out a cigarette but drops his lighter on the stage. He bends down to pick it up. Yet another dent in that old beatup lighter.
Raymond, for his part, squints up to the ceiling, then around the room, hmmmming slowly to himself in his black suit.
The Inquisitor and Celia, a pair of morbid bird dogs by the looks of it, are seated off in the middle of the right tiers of seat, discussing something quietly.
Dolby blinks at Markie, and chuckles. "Wellllllll..." she makes a show of considering. "I suppose we can bend the musical rules for -you-. I'll even see if we can convince Tuesday to find me some table dancers for you."
Jack strikes up the band, playing some slow laid-back numbers that require no vocals, just for background sound, while people begin arriving.
Tinker seems very quiet and somber this evening, very still.
Janet goes over to the middle left tier and sits down, taking off her ever-present backpack to sit at her feet.
Markie chuckles. "What, you mean you don't think Punk and Techno go together? I'm waiting for the fuckin' owner of The Wasteland to get back to me. I'm trying to get a weekly or monthly gig there. I'm surprised that place stays open. That owner never gets back to me. I hope he doesn't treat all his talent that way."
Tinker glances to see where Chloe wishes to sit.
Dolby grins broadly at Markie. "I didn't say that, now, did I? Rules are meant for bending and breaking at all the right times, and some of the wrong ones. My Power Station is your Power Station. You wanna play, chere, you play. That simple." She lifts her mug to her lips again, taking a slow sip.
Chloe gives an absent nod in return to Dolby, no recognition flaring - it's the sort of nod one gives a stranger. Her attention then turns down to Tinker, a murmur directed his way. She mutters to Tinker, "Mon ami, smile. Make merry,... drink if you must. Remember... have... you can... certainement... hear... come... us sooner."
Markie grins and he all but snatches the mug from Dolby's hand. "THat's why I love ya, kid." He takes a long chug before handing the mug back to her.
Dolby looks at Danton:
A first glance at this young fellow might call to mind a certain poem about a highwayman; if he's not the very image of the dashing young robber, he's certainly coshed said robber over his head and taken his clothes. He's got the tri-cornered hat cocked on his head, complete with dyed ostrich feathers; his hair is in a queue tied with a black ribbon. A red velvet coat, a white shirt with lace at the collar, leather breeches, and thigh-high polished riding boots complete the look, along with a black domino mask that breaks up his vaguely vulpine features. His eyes, behind the mask are a bright green. He has a cloak thrown around his shoulders, a heavy thing, embroidered with gold thread that sees much use for flourishes and grand gestures. A careful observer might note a few suspicious looking holes in the back of the cloak that could conceivably match those that might be made by the rapier hanging from his belt. He carries himself with a certain self-assurance; more cocky than arrogant, in the main.
Tinker lifts his chin and finally smiles to Chloe. His eyes move out to see who is there, and what the others are doing.
Janet sits in her tier, quietly, waiting for the wake to begin.
Cess shuffles over to a seat alone, folding her hands together; the perfect wallflower.
Danton slouches in like a distant relative trying to remember whether the deceased was a 2nd or 3rd cousin, and finds a seat in the back.
Danton sits down somewhere on the Upper Left Tier.
Chloe tugs Tinker with her, heading down towards the podium where the drinks are distributed. "Come, mon ami. We will find the drink and then the seat." Just that easily her solemnity is falling away, a grin flashed down at him. "I will not ask you to fetch mine for me, non? I will find it myself tonight instead, this is very kind of me."
Tinker smiles and beginning to walk with her, and says to Chloe, "I'm supposed to say "That is very kind of you" to -you-."
Raymond tosses a glance over to the rest of the crowd, then slowly begins to meander in the direction of Cess.
Cess first scoots slightly away from Danton, then back the other way, just a little away from Raymond. "Ah. Howdy 'gain," she says timidly. "m'I sittin' in the wrong place?"
"I would not wish you to mistake when I am being kind," Chloe answers Tinker with an easy, unconcerned shrug. "Here then," she motions lightly at the podium and flagons as they arrive, painting the air with afterimages. "What shall we drink? None of this is the vin, so I will trust you to chose again for me."
Raymond shakes his head slowly. "I don't think so, no."
Markie trots over to the edge of the stage with Jack. He plops down, clinking his hoofs against the side. He's probably going over music plans or somethign with the fellow saytr.
Raymond was speaking to Cess, of course. And his player will learn to include that sort of thing in his poses. Really.
Dolby takes her mug back, and finishes what's in it, without marring her lipstick. She settles the mug on the bar and with Jack's help, climbs to the stage. A deep breath, then another, then she speaks, pitching her voice like one accustomed to speaking. "Good evening - friends, strangers, ladies, gentlemen, one and all. Thank you all for coming to this small party to make a big noise."
Jack places a hand on Dolby's shoulder as she pauses, wringing her hands. "Go on, hon."
"For those unfamiliar with the idea of a kithain wake? It's not the way they throw 'em mundaneside. See, there, it's just sad. But we know that Kel and Phadre's souls are already gearing up to fly to their next lives. We know the Dreaming mourns them with us. So tonight, we lift our voices, our feet, our glasses, and anything else we've got to raise, including the roof -- to fill the hole in the Glamour Kel and Phaedre left, and to give their souls strength for the long trip to their next lives. That said -- let us pay our respects."
Markie and Jack's conversation was very short, apparently.
Tinker steps over and fills two flagons half way up with mead, and turns and offers one to Chloe. "Something sweet."
Tinker murmurs, "Something very delicious that Leopold made. I..remember because I wasn't drinking. I only tasted it."
Sam McGee enters the amphitheatre. Sam McGee has arrived.
Dolby looks at Sam McGee
The smell of cigarette smoke clings to the air around him like a old lover. Wearing a grey trenchcoat and a matching hat, one can make out the deep eyes, and pale grey skin of a sluagh. Often a waft of cigarette smoke can be seen floating away from him, and the cigarette resting in his lips, the glowing end only slightly illuminating his face. All hair on his head, save the greying of a 5 o'clock the next morning shadow and the nonchromatic black of his eyebrows, is tucked up into that grey fedora on his head, no hint at its length. What nose he has isn't much to go by; like all his kith, its seems flattened and stretched. Only those deep, greyish black eyes provide strong definition.
He's not particularly physically imposing, maybe 5'9'', at most, and slim as a sapling in winter. What little sound he does make comes from the pattering of his rubber-soled shoes, same nonchromatic black as his eyebrows. All things combined, the very air about him seems drained of its color, the Glamour of this kithain casting everything about him in the smokey haze of a 1940's detective film. His demeanor is remarkably haggard, and he almost seems to be thinning around the edges.
Chloe accepts the flagon, and with a quick smile for Tinker, raises it up to Dolby's speech in silent toast before bringing it to lip for a long gulp.
Janet looks around and sees Sam. "Sam?" she says, sounding surprised. She stands up at her seat and just stares at him.
Markie gives a small cheer at Dolby's speech. "Here here!" He snags a mug from an innocent eshu (a different innocent eshu. Not Tinker, for once) and takes a long chug.
Tinker drinks deeply from the flagon. He doesn't toast anybody.
Jack extends a hand to Dolby, and she steps up onto stage to join the band. "This one is the only somber song we're singing tonight, folks. If you know the words," Jack instructs, "Sing along, loud as you can, and help speed Kel and Phae to their next life." The Amphitheatre projects his voice to the crowd.
After a soft hummed intro by the entire band, Jack's rich baritone and Dolby's smoky alto lead them in a multi-layered harmony to sing a somber, slow, a capella version of 'Amazing Grace' -- oddly enough, to the tune of 'Gilligan's Island.'
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me!
I once was lost, but now am found
Was blind, but now I see.
'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed.
the band continues, same tempo, but shifting into a less gloomy key for the rest:
Through many dangers, toils and snares
I have already come.
'Tis grace hath brought me safe thus far
And grace will lead me home.
When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise.
Than when we first begun.
The band pauses to bow their heads politely and respectfully.
Markie bows his head respectfully, and bobs it along with the rhythm of the music.
Taking a long drag off of a colorlessly burning cigarette, a sluagh slinks off from the exit glancing towards the stage. He mutters something under his breath, then turns towards the sound of his name. Sam McGee tips his hat towards Janet, proceeding towards her. He mutters something in the whispers characteristic of his kith, even managing a bit of a smile.
Janet bows back, not singing with the band, but raising an eyebrow at the tune.
Tinker glances up in the sky after the song, and asks, "Do you think they are laughing yet?" Like maybe he thinks Kel and Phae should be hovering.
Sam McGee mutters to Janet, "Hey there,... happened... came... you..."
Janet mutters to Sam McGee, "... a... while..."
Chloe drains the half-a-flagon and sets it aside before she leans down to answer. She mutters to Tinker, "... if there... no laughter... you... will... else... celebrate,..."
Tinker mutters to Chloe, "... at... "You... so... I... happy..."
Springer, one of Kel's apprentices, murmurs to Jack. Jack raises a brow and nods. "I think we can manage that." He turns to the band. "A-one, and a-two..." and by some unspoken method, the band launches together into 'Oh, Industry' from _Beaches_. Springer, satisfied, blows an immense blue bubble, lets it pop, sucks it back into his mouth, then returns to his seat.
Sam McGee takes a place near Janet, and shrugs. He mutters to Janet, "... been... goddamn shattered mirrors of... Moirae... good..."
Chloe refills her flagon, moving just a little too quickly - blurring afterimages jangle the air. She mutters to Tinker, "... great... something fun and... will... to... aloud, oui?"
Chloe and Tinker are down near the podium-of-drinks, speaking quietly but animatedly together.
Logan slips in, quietly watching the crowd from near the entry for a bit.
Dolby is standing by the bar, refilling her flagon. She smiles tautly at Logan. "Thank you for coming, Logan," she murmurs politely, but does not move to greet him more intimately. The neon on her cheeks is brightened slighty. The band is in the midst of playing 'Oh Industry'.
Chloe reaches down to grasp Tinker's free hand, and without waiting for permission, starts to tug him lightly towards Dolby. She mutters to Tinker, "You... your happy... ami.... first,... show... is... sad,... we must break this."
Cess sighs, and hugs her knees, watching all the unfamiliar faces. She idly toys with her black armband, without realizing she's doing it.
Tinker seems to be tugged, and he keeps up but he's not a happy camper. His eyes gleam and his face seems to show that his mind is racing.
Markie hops off the stage and trots towards the new girl. Clip Clop, Clip Clop. Making his way near Cess, he says, in simple Markie greeting fashion, "Sup."
Cess stares at Markie outright for a few seconds before replying. "Whut? Oh. Um. Not much," she says softly. "Not sure I'm s'posed to be here. Not knowin' the deceased. S'hard to mourn right." She blinks again, wide-eyed at the man's appearance.
Markie shakes his head. "I never knoew him either. But we ain't here to mourne. We're here to celebrate. Celebrate their past lives, and the new lives they are sure to lead.
Raymond backpedals away from Cess now that Markie comes over, then heads in the general direction of the bar.
A large clump of Nockers clustered over in the upper right tier burst out laughing. "Fuck'f he said that t'you!" "Hell yeah!" The group of five lift their flagons high and shout out en-masse, "Kel, you asshole, you ass-sucking slimebucket, hurry th'fark up!" And then they burst into laughter again, bright and drunk and merry.
Janet mutters to Sam McGee, "Fucking... hated... he... bastard!"
Markie casts an eye at Raymond. "I don't got cooties, dude."
Chloe draws up to Dolby, tugging Tinker forward a bit. "Mademoiselle, the monsieur Rigby wonders if he is allowed to share his happy memory later, oui?"
Cess gives Markie a rather tart smile. "Why, sugar, I appreciate you tellin' me how to conduct myself at one'a these things. 'Cause I'm so stupid I might just have plumb forgot." She shakes her head and shrugs. "I ain't one of those who can just work myself up to a frickin' party on command. Sorry to disappoint you." She stands up again, shaking her head, and goes over to the bar.
Tinker smiles at Chloe faintly. It appears that he's got a story.
In response to Chloe's inquiry, Dolby's eyes widen. "Of course you can, Little Prince," Dolby says to the young eshu. "Any happy memory to be had tonight should be shared. Whenever you're ready. Grab Jack at the end of any song, anytime you're ready." She kisses Tinker on the cheek, then drifts off to speak with Springer and the group of apprentices from Kel's.
Markie's eyebrows raise. "Damn." He shakes his head, trotting back towards the stage, but veer's towards Tink. "You got somethin' stuck up your ass, dude." Straight face, serious tone.
Tinker turns and seems surprised at Markie's words. "I do? I don't feel anything."
Markie waits for the kids reaction, before laughing. "Drink some more kid, you look way to uptight. I like it you much better with a smile on yer face."
Tinker smiles a bit at Markie, and lifts the flagon.
Markie raises his mug as well, clinking the glass. "Drink up, sport. You're almost on." He takes a long swig from his drink. "Chloe. How are ya doll?"
Cess gets herself a drink, then heads back to her tier to sit, still clearly playing wallflower, even if her expression is seeming to perk up a bit.
Chloe nods down to Tinker after Dolby answers. "Go then when you are ready, mon petit ami." Markie's arrival gets a nod. His greeting however, receives an arched brow, then a faint smile. "Monsieur, well enough."
Dolby notices Cess, and calls out to her. "Hey, Cess. Come meet Springer and the boys."
An Eshu, already staggering from drink, manages to reach the band. "Gimme a song," he demands up of them. "Wanna hear somethin' fun!"
Cess waves her hand at Dolby, demurring somewhat. "Lemme meet 'em after I got another coupla drinks, otherwise I ain't, ain't, uhhh, gonna be worth jackshit talking to. This's all y'all's gig, not mine."
Tinker nods to Chloe. He's had most of his flagon though by now, to fortify himself. He looks out at all the people there.
Markie grins. Nothing better than greeting Sidhe in ways they aren't exactly used to. "Glad to hear it, hun. WOuldn't want a sweet thing like you bein' down on yer luck."
Dolby flashes a smile at Cess and bobs her head in understanding. "Anytime you're ready, gal. Not like we're fuckin' goin' anywhere, hey?" She accepts a kiss on the cheek from one of the clustered nocker boys, and several swats on the ass, with quiet, beleaguered placidity. Then, it's back to the bar with her. Flagon must be kept filled.
Chloe drifts forward a half-step, her free hand pulling from Tinker's grasp to settle instead along Markie's cheek. She mutters to Markie, "... luck were... I... distress... with... news."
Janet seems to be deep in conversation with Sam. Very intense. Rather sad.
Once Chloe lets go of Tink's arm, he heads over to speak with Jack.
Logan nods to Dolby. "Master Kelric was my friend, Dolby. I wouldn't miss this."
Raymond eyes the bar as if he was a kid at a candy store. "hmmm....
Dolby smiles broadly at Logan's words. "That's the spirit, Logan." Now that he's finally spoken a bit, Dolby drifts to greet him with a kiss on the cheek.
Markie grins. "That's a shame, hun. I like cheerin' people up. Paintin' the town red, lifting spirits, all that good shit."
Logan smiles a bit to Dolby, then moves in the direction of the refreshments.
Celia continues to speak quietly with the Inquisitor in their seats. She seems mildly disturbed by something.
Off in a corner, a Troll accepts the hand of his companion Eshu, and the pair begin to dance - it's a whirl around in a few tight circles, energy high.
Jack's attention is drawn away as the song finishes playing 'Weird Science', swing style, and drawn to Tinker. There's a moment of conferring before the satyr tells the band they're taking five, so the young eshu raconteur can share his memory of Kel with the assemblage.
Tink looks around, and says, "A fond, yet amazingly annoying memory, as I recollect Kel, and the way he talked to others. In that people-pleasing sort of way". He smiles. "He'd found out that I talked myself into a team adventure to go off and do..well, something way over my head, and had a letter sent to me. First, it was very very lengthy, almost too long to read, explaining that he was the Big Cheese and leader of the expedition, with about seventy cuss words sprinkled liberally, and then he proceeded to call me names. He was shocked and dismayed I'd think he'd let me go. Offended. Aghast. And he called me a..."
He glances in the direction of Chloe, but he says it anyway, "/fuckwit/" for me even having the audacity to -imagine- he'd tuck me under his wing and endanger the rest by letting me tag along. His language was horrifying! And I was upset and showed it to someone who read it and explained to me, "A nocker's way of letting you know you didn't make the string. That's all." And -then- I was mocked. So after I'd read it a few dozen times, I realized it wasn't anything personal, but that it was how he was. Bossy, crabby, irritable, and it probably pained him to no end to have to write something to me, and be clear about it. And the entire letter was all about his unwillingness to let me be harmed, or others be harmed..cos he cared."
Apparently the story has reached his end. So he says, "So..hurry back, Kel, cos we're waiting!" And he holds his flagon up, to everyone, and then drinks.
Chloe turns away from Markie with a shrug, "I do not need this help," her attention going to the Tinker on stage. When he lifts his flagon at the end, she lifts hers as well to toast before gulping.
Logan gets a drink, greets various people quietly, and then stands off to one side, watching Tinker.
Dolby raises her own flagon, along with every other nocker in the room. "Hurry the fuck back, Kel!" is shouted or spoken nearly in unison as the pale and ruddy hands lift their flagons.
Tinker steps back into the crowd, his face flushed, but sort of happy, actually.
Raymond goes to obtain a large flagon and fills it with mead, joining in with a few other drunken nockers as they sing a chorus or three of a quite obscene drinking song.
Celia applauds from her seat.
Janet excuses herself from the conversation long enough to go get a few tankards of something or other. She returns to her seat, and grimaces, offering one to Sam. She drinks out of the other one.
Sam McGee takes the drink, sniffing it. After a moment or two, he scowls. He mutters to Janet, "... you... to... toots? Poison me?... thing... moldy..."
Tinker approaches Chloe, standing next to her again. "Did it."
Markie sets his mug down on the stage and starts clapping. "Good show Tink, good show."
Tinker smiles at Markie.
Markie then poounds the rest of his mead and proceeds to grab another.
Chloe leans down to Tinker, pressing a kiss to his forehead in a rush of gold curls and floral perfume.
Even the Inquisitor joins in on the polite applause.
Logan applauds with the others; "Well done, Tinker."
Cess raises her glass after a long pull on it, in belated salute, but continues to play wallflower, seeming content to study every face and just watch the others interact.
Tinker seems happy with the congratulations. He says, "Who's next!"
Janet sniffs at her tankard, and grimaces. She hands it to Sam, and takes his from his hand. "I can't believe I just drank Sluagh...stuff. I'll go next." She stands up where she is.
Taking the drink, Sam sniffs it for a moment, then smirks. He mutters something to Janet, and puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.
There is the sudden sound of an owl's cry from somewhere overhead, and nearby; loud and startling, just before there is a white rush of wings, and the White Owl of the woods appears once more. Several times larger than any mortal owl, she circles slowly around the ampitheater, screaming her hoot over the noise of the crowd.
Sam McGee mutters to Janet, "... how... was... sack,... hurry back..."
Raymond pauses after a drink, then looks up to the owl curiously.
Logan looks up, tracking the owl. He smiles softly to himself, and nods.
Janet doesn't move to the stage, just stands at her seat. "Kyle...Kelric did a lot of good things for me. He kept me sane when I needed it. Made my sword, and my jewelry. He was a loyal friend, and went through a lot of shit because of me, including dying far away from his home." She glances at Sam, and says, "And damn, was that boy good in bed. Or in a tree. Or a van. Or several other places I could mention. Hurry back, Kel, there are a lot of people who never got to try you out." She raises her glass, then lowers it to her mouth, sniffing it first to make sure she got the right tankard. She did, so she drinks deeply.
"Th'owl!" someone cries out at the sudden eruption of screaming hoots. People throughout the amphitheatre duck and call out in fear, as if afraid it'll swoop down on them.
Celia murmurs, "Why is that here...?" as she cranes her neck skyward.
Janet shoots a nasty look at the owl for interrupting an Eshu story.
Markie leans against the stage with his mug. He glances up at the Owl and shurgs. He must be getting used to seeing odd things like this.
The Inquisitor glances upwards, then murmurs something quietly to Celia. He seems... alert. More so than he was a few moments ago.
Chloe joins in the folks ducking, though in the doing, she ends up with a hand on Tinker's shoulder, urging him behind her.
Danton frowns up at the owl. "Maybe it's runnin' late and doesn't know that the man of the hour's already deceased."
Cess sits up straighter, craning her neck to get a better look at the bird. "What'n tarnation?"
Janet sits back down again. She looks thoroughly miffed.
Sam McGee glances up at the owl, and scowls. He mutters something under his breath, and begins undoing the top buttons of his trenchcaot.
"Who is it for?"
"Don't let it git me!"
"S'a sign of death, git out afore it reaches us!"
"Mommy!" Whispered and shouted conversations spring up in a wave, fright and worry all but coloring the air.
Springer is emboldened by the speeches, and steps up. He pauses to watch the screech owl warily, then continues toward the stage. He pulls the wad of bright blue bubblegum out of his mouth, then tucks it behind one pointed ear.
"Proud to be the first fuckin' nocker to have a story t'tell about my man Kel. I was a skinny little nobody, going through junior high with the hellishly fuckin' annoyin' name of Jerome Springer." He glowers around the room, daring anyone to draw the conclusion in question and make a remark. "Kel was grocery shopping and saw a bunch of the bigger boys chasing me on their bikes. They couldn't see it, but I was just startin' my sprockin' dream dance. One quick cantrip, and they were arse-over-handlebars on their faces. Kel himself stepped in and got between me and them. 'What the shit is this?' he asked them, and they started to rush him. 'You fuck with my kid brother, you fuck with me.'"
Springer laughs. "That's when he pulled out the staplegun and the wrench. That's when /they/ fucked off, and I passed out to sleep for a week for my Dream Dance. When I woke, I was kithain...and it was Kel who took me in, after school at first, then more as I got comfortable with who I was. Hell, I'd'a got my ass beat by those slitch-droppings if it hadn't'a been for him. So fuckin' A, Kel -- thanks, man, and can't wait t'see ya again." He raises his flagon and takes a good long drink.
Tinker looks up, watching the owl. He's listening to the story, and he's been pushed behind Chloe, and he seems mystified by -that-, too. He murmurs, "Oh no, you don't protect -me-, I protect -you-."
Springer's distracted by taking his drink. The white owl - no mere screech owl this, a bird of prey far larger than any mortal beast - wheels and aims straight for his head, screaming as loudly as it can, talons out.
Logan keeps watching the Owl, not paying much attention to the crowd for now.
"Springer, look out!" A strong voice from the crowd calls out towards the Nocker on the stage when the owl dives.
"Oh, -fuck!-" Dolby gasps. "Springer, look *out*, man!" She isn't nearly close enough to the stage. Thankfully, Jack Sprat the satyr, is, and tackles the young wilder's legs out from under him.
Markie looks a bit confused. "What's all the fuss about. It's just an owl." Markie shrugs and chugs his mead.
Uncertain what she'll be finding at this sort of event, little Thirteen pads on in. arms held uncertainly behind her back while she noses about, gauging the atomosphere
Markie's flagon is shoved. "It /ain't/ jest an owl," a nearby Satyr growls out to him. "It's the /White Owl/. Means death! We gotta git th'fuck outta here!" Without waiting for an answer, the Satyr starts away, hurrying doorwards.
Janet pulls out her sword. "Like hell I will," she says to Sam, quietly. She glares at the Owl, and waits for it to come swooping again.
Raymond has apparently missed that part of the briefing, as he slowly begins to backpedal.
The owl skims, her swoop missing the knocked-over Springer handily, then circles around, high above the crowd once more, still hooting too-loudly, her shadow passing over the seats.
Chloe barely glances down at Tinker when he protests. She simply keeps her hand on his shoulder and tries to nudge him away from the stage. "Oui, oui, mon petit ami. But protect somewhere else, non?"
Markie looks upset. "Damn, I had half a mug left. What a waste." He glances up at the owl as the commotion goes on about him. "Since when did white mean death?" He asks no one in particular.
Dolby's face has gone pale. She motions to Jack, urgently. Jack gives Dolby an unabashed 'you have -got- to be joking' look. Dolby stalks toward the stage, quietly, moving like water through the disturbed crowd, some of whom have decided to be angry rather than afraid.
Tinker nods, turning, "You should be somewhere safe," He drinks the rest of the flagon, and sets it down.
When the shadow falls on the crowds, they duck. It's like a wave-in-reverse, accompanied by continued shouts. The exit aisles are starting to get crowded now.
Logan looks toward Janet and catches her eye, briefly, or tries to. "I wouldn't try hurting it Janet." He calls out. "Every time it's been tried, it's backfired somehow, from what I remember."
The first clap of thunder is... well... loud. Not so surprising, however, when the plume of gunsmoke becomes apparent, the non-chromatic sluagh holding what appears to be a pistol in his hands.
Janet drops her sword, to clap her hands over her ears. It's not fun standing next to a gun that's just gone off.
Markie recoils as if he shot the gun. "Whoa. Guns. Beer. Panic and Terror. What more could ya ask for?"
Danton crouches down low, making his way quickly for the door, ducking lower when the gun goes off.
And Sam's gunshot heralds another. Another shot rings out, this one from the robed sidhe in the stands. Celia stands, a gun in either hand, aimed at the owl - but not quite. A warning shot to the harbringer of death - charming.
Tinker freezes at the sound of a gunshot.
And the kitten pooka is accidently and uncerimoniously shoved to the ground as some of the more supersticious members of the assembled make an ungracious and hurried exit. Thirteen quickly tried to crawl out from underfoot, curling against a wall, looking startled and not a bit unnerved. /This/ is what happens at wakes?
Dolby jumps, and winces at the sound of the gunshot. She goes pale, but continues resolutely toward the stage. "Jack, man, you gotta play something to calm the crowd down before people get -hurt-," she hisses over the noise.
"Yeah, right, Dolby Powers. Like that band who played on the Titanic until it went down," retorts the nocker kid on the clarinet. "You're outta your fuckin' mind."
Helplessly, Dolby looks from the Owl to Logan, to Janet, to Raymond, to Markie. This was unplanned, unexpected, and she has -no- idea how to handle or cope with it, especially without the band's assistance.
Janet drops down to her knees, reaching for the sword that she re-sheathes, in compliance with Logan's advice. Good thing she heard it before the gunshots, she'd never hear it now. She looks about and spots Dolby and makes a 'oh, shit, I don't know' face at her.
The bird drops - it looks for a second almost like it's been hit by the guns going off - but instead it zooms back overhead, coming in low but away from its attackers, one more pass on the crowd before it finds what seems to be a perch, calling out one more mournful-threatening cry.
Markie hears Dolby, then hears Jack's unfortunate response. He shakes his head. "Pussy." Markie leaps up on stage and says to the band. "Play something. Now. You guys know 'When Doves Cry?'" He chuckles. Apparently he ain't afriad of this bird yet. Probably should be though. Wonder how many of the band members will stick around to play. Since their waste of flesh singer is running like a girl, Markie's obviously gonna step up to the plate.
Logan drops into a crouch instinctivly at the first gunshot, eyes tracking the sources.
It's like the gunshots were the trigger that sets off the mass exodus - there's no real order to the rush to get out, either. Some people drop flagons (great, mead to make the floor slippery,) some pull out swords and weapons of their own (mostly Trolls standing guard over running friends,) but there's no doubt it's going to be a rout.
Remaining next to the gun bearing Celia is the still sombre looking Inquisitor. He flinches at each of the nearby gun blasts, but watches the bird in his own right.
Chloe once again pulls Tinker behind her, this time when the shots ring out. She straightens up slowly when the bird settles onto a perch, staring up at it with wide eyes.
Celia mutters to Corwin, "... I'm... discourage... if..."
Tinker says, "Chloe, we need to find a place to stand where people aren't going to trample us. Over by the stage.."
Cess is not running, but huddling, knees pulled to her chest even tighter, and head covered in the classic kindergarten-tornado-drill duck and cover.
Janet leaves her seat to start making sure that people who are trying to get out don't get trampled. She tries to make herself heard over the din, to calm people down as the struggle to get out.
Dolby flashes Markie a smile that would be pathetic in its gratitude. "Everybody stay -calm-!" she calls, then turns to Markie, gesturing to him to sing.
Jack spots his kithbrother standing fast, and with a wry grin, goes to join Markie on the stage, adding his voice. The singing is probably, sadly lost in the cries of the now-distressed crowd.
Raymond, in the tradition of befuddled people everywhere, goes to the bar and obtains more alcohol.
Logan stands up after identifying the shooters, and moves toward the Owl, knowing full well that calling for people to stay calm isn't going to do any good.
The bird's head swivels from side to side, seeming to size up the crowd, simply sitting still for the moment. Wings settling, it almost seems to be searching out a particular target as it looks everyone over.
Danton eyes the satyrs as he crawls for the exit. "Fucking morons. You're just gonna make everyone _more_ panicky."
Khalid comes running in, and freezes as he sees the Owl. And straightens to his full height, extending an arm to the Owl. Slowly.
Dolby just huddles behind the bar, holding her head. "I'm sorry, Kel. I'm so sorry. Forgive me." Dolby speaks: French
Sam McGee continues tracking the owl, firing the nigh deafening gun shot when it seems about to swoop down upon its next target. When his eyes catch ahold of the band moving, he sighs, and points the gun towards them. The report comes again, the impact of the bullet far too close to the musicians. After that, the sluagh gestures mutely towards the exit.
Nope, there's not much calming going on, despite Janet's best efforts, despite the Satyrs attempting to sing up on the stage. People are rushing towards the nearest available exits without much regard for their friends, mob-style.
Celia keeps her guns trained on the owl, not firing.
Markie spots Jack making his way back. "Glad to see you aint a total pussy. I'd'a had to beat your ass." He turns to the band. "Any of you leave, I kick your ass personally. Now, me and Jack here are gonna sing "My Way". Go ahead. Start playing." As the band starts up, Markie says something into Jack's ear. The other saytr still looks uncomfortable sticking around, but he nods when Markie speaks. As the band kicks in, Markie kicks the mic stand, sending it tipping forward, then reaches out and grabs it, pulling it up to his mouth.
And now, the end is near;
And so I face the final curtain.
My friend, I'll say it clear,
I'll state my case, of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full.
I've traveled each and ev'ry highway;
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.
"Oui," Chloe agrees with Tinker, though she makes no move towards the stage after his suggestion. She's busy staring up at the bird, watching it steadily. "We should go somewhere, oui... I will watch the bird if you will lead."
Safety is found in the cover of a table, Thirteen cowering underneath. Curiousity makes her pop her head just enough up to see what's going on, the retort of firearms pushed it back down again.
Khalid works his way slowly through the crowd, his arm extended as if Hawking. He is easy to see above the panicked fray.
The bird pauses. Khalid's gesture makes it simply sit there, as if fascinated. Its hoot is more gentle, more calm for just a moment. And then it seems to shake off the calm, once more flying up and around, doing another circle, seeming to be on its way out.
Raymond mumbles something to himself as he knocks back another flagon of mead.
Logan moves toward Chloe and Tinker, doing what he can to keep people calm, or at least not stepping on each other.
Tinker mentions, "The people..crowding. Nobody can get through, we need to stay here. Maybe..Khalid will get the owl to calm down."
Markie tosses the mic to one side stand to one side, catching it, and tossing it the other way. He steps back and Jack steps up, catching it and going into the next verse.
Regrets, I've had a few;
But then again, too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.
I planned each charted course;
Each careful step along the byway,
But more, much more than this,
I did it my way.
Janet moves towards a door and starts grabbing this one and pulling him back to let that one through. It's not gentle, but it at least gets the panicked masses through that door without any of them being trampled. She can't hear any of the abuse that anyone's no doubt heaping on her head, which is a good thing.
A handful of people stop at Markie's song, but the majority of them pay no attention at all in their rush to leave. The place is already almost half empty.
Celia's gun makes a twitch toward the stage, then returns to the owl. She mutters to Corwin, "That..."
For a punk rocker, Markie does a damned good Brian Setzer impression. He peers at the owl, Almost challenging it with his gaze. Stupid Saytr.
Khalid stands still then, an expression mixed of equal parts grief and wonder on his face. He slowly changes the placement of his arm from a place to land...to a salute. He murmurs something softly as the Owl starts to fly away.
Moving away from Celia after a moment, the Inquisitor stalks towards the stage. Deadly calm, despite the crowd, surges up upon him... along with a strongly tangible sense of cold.
Dolby is just watching the entire horrific tableau with an expression of mingled horror, shame, anger, and grief. Her expression has gone blank and emotionless, despite Markie and Jack's best attempts.
Raymond, wiping the back of his mouth with his hand, heads over to Dolby and pokes her in the ribs.
When the bird starts to head out, Chloe pulls her attention away from it and over to the crowds leaving. A sweeping gaze over the confusion, then she's starting towards a less crowded exit, obviously expecting Tinker to follow.
Logan looks to the stage, and gives Markie a look that would peel paint, continuing across toward Chloe and Tinker, eyes tracking back to first Khalid, then the Owl.
Celia keeps her guns trained on the owl, her jaw set, expression cold and calculating.
Tinker says to Chloe, "I don't get it, why do they try and kill something as..magical and ominous as -that-." He tags along, with Chloe.
Like a rock in a rushing stream, Khalid stands tall, as only a nine foot Djinn can, and watches the Owl leave. It is as if, for him, there is only the Owl in the entire world, indeed that the Owl is the entire world.
Logan looks over to Dolby. "If the Owl's here, something is up. She's leaving.. as soon as the stampeded started, she backed off."
Janet takes a moment from throwing the people out the door to see what's going on in the room. Ok, Khalid looks impressive. Wow. Logan's not being trampled. Sam's got his guns out, as does Celia. Right. Now back to work.
Cess lifts her head from the 'nobody here but us chickens' position, and looks around. "All clear?" she asks those around her in a hopeful, timid little voice."
Dolby doesn't give an indication that she heard Logan. Probably in shock. She's staring off at the last place the owl had alighted, but the owl took off and isn't there anymore.
Celia still isn't firing at the Death Omen Bird.
With a remarkable amount of detachment, when one takes into account sluagh hearing and the crowd, the nonchromatic sluagh easily drops the point of his gun another couple of degrees. Pointed directly at Markie and the band. With his free hand, he waves once then points towards an exit. Sluagh shouldn't smile.
When her path is interrupted by a fallen woman, sparks flare up along Chloe's glowing hands, fury setting her normal glow ablaze. "Come," is urged low. "Monsieur Rigby, help her up, we must help get them out." Down she sweeps to grab the woman's arm, lifting the fainter? as much as possible.
Markie and Jack continue on with the song, being all smooth and sly like Saytr's can be. Jack's still a bit shaken, but Markie's having a blast. Born to Perform, this one is. He hasn't noticed the gun pointed his way.
Tinker quickly helps to lift the fallen, eyes searching for Logan. He seems fairly spooked by it all.
Stepping up on the stage, the Inquisitor manages to be in his own little clearing from the crowd. Hand on his cane, he pauses for a moment, glancing up at the gun bearing sluagh for a moment before turning towards Markie.
Logan catches up to Chloe and Tinker, helping with the woman. "Milady. Master Tinker. Are you both alright?"
It seemed to be gone for a moment; indeed, it disappeared around the back of the stage, seeming to have been gone. But with quicksilver speed, the white blur that is the Owl is back, clearly almost seeming to operate with the force of a cantrip; it bears down on Corwin with precision, its target acquired, and SNATCHES the man in its great claws, immediately swooping up again as high as it can go, as fast as it can get away.
Springer is at Dolby's side in a twinkling, leaping over the crowd and shoving past it when he can't leap like his name implies. "Powers? Girl, snap out of it, we gotta -jet-. This is some major bad mojo." But there's no response to Springer either. Not until he gives her a shake, at least. Then she blinks, but doesn't speak. He draws a hand back to slap her out of her shock.
Logan tracks the owl's progress, "Bloody Hell."
Celia's face pales, and her guns swing higher; then she lowers them to her sides and takes off running, robes swirling about her as she descends from the stands.
Janet stops what she's doing as the Owl does it's thing. She just stares, her mouth hanging open. "Holy shit!" she mutters.
Tinker turns and watches with horror, still holding the woman.
Raymond blinks, then looks up to the owl and wherever Corwin just went to, before shouting in a slurred voice, "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST ON A POGO STICK!"
The clattering sound of the cane of the Inquisitor striking the stage comes a moment after take off. At very least he doesn't scream or shout. Struggle, yes. Shout? No.
Danton, still crawling, has finally made it through the press of the crowd to the exit. Looking up as the shouts get louder, his curses join everyone else's. "Shit."
Alright. That's it. Before owls start thinking about noshing on kittens, Thirteen makes a dash for it.
Celia encounters the crowd, trailing after the owl as best she can. She shoves, she squirms, but she's held in check by the throngs of people also trying to leave.
Sam McGee is obviously distracted by entertaining the prospect of shooting down the entertaining Markie. He doesn't quite turn towards Corwin in time, managing to track for a few moments before deciding not to take a shot. Probably wouldn't be a good idea.
Finally, as if on cue, the majority of the crowds have gotten out - fallen escapers lay all over the place, half-trampled in the rush.
Khalid 's hands blur to his blades and he moves through a very complicated series of motions, and then sheaths the blade, he spins around like the Djinn of his name and then kneels down.
Raymond goes to fill up a couple of flagons with ice water if he can find it, meandering around to the half-trampled people and looking to see if they're awake. If not, they get a mug of cold water in the face.
Chloe takes on as much of the weight of the woman as possible, answering Logan in a clipped tone, "Oui." She too stares up at the bird when it snatches Corwin away, blue eyes wide. Then she's urging, "Monsieur Rigby, faster. We must get the persons out who cannot walk. Go help him." She tips her head towards someone else who's struggling to stand.
Cess just stares up at the sky, once more the discombobulated, overwhelmed child; she doesn't move, but watches everything fall apart around her.
As the owl lifts off with Corwin, Logan takes three running steps, and leaps into the air shouting "One giant leap for faekind!", appearently trying to catch Corwin by the legs.
*THWHACK!* The slap is probably not especially loud in the pandemonium, but it does what it was supposed to do. Dolby blinks, coming back to herself. "Oh, no..." she breathes, eyes wide at the carnage. She presses into Springer's arms, mouth making a big O of astonishment as Logan leaps after the owl and its prey.
Janet shakes her head and walks about, seeing if she can help any of the trampled.
Once the bands sees The Inquisitor get snatched up, they stop. That's enough of that, for them. With the quickness, they drop their instruments and bolt. Markie stands, staring at The Owl grabbibg Corwin. He makes a move, but it's obviously not fast enough. The owl's gone. Jack takes a cue from the band and jets as well. "Fuck!" Markie yells.
Tinker helps different changelings get to their feet, steadying them. Checking them for injuries. Logan leaping wth his cry catches his attention, however.
Logan sails up and after the Owl, seeming as though he's going to make the grab, but falls short by a bit. He arcs back down, landing fairly hard. "Damnit all!"
Celia continues to run, puffing along after the Owl. Robes. Bad for running.
Sam McGee shrugs lightly. He mutters something to himself, tucks his gun back away, and glances around a bit before heading towards the exit steadily. He pauses to say something to Janet.
Sam McGee leaves the Middle Left Tier.
Sam McGee mutters to Janet, "Good... a... penny for parties..."
Janet only seems to understand what Sam's saying because she's looking at his mouth. She nods at him, at the first part, then shakes her head 'no'.
Once she's up, Chloe sets her burden down just outside the door, propping the woman against a wall. Then she's stepping back inside - with a glance up to note if the bird is still circling - to head towards the next struggling person, moving quickly.
Sam McGee puts an arm around Janet, and points her towards an exit. His voice is quiet, for someone enounciating clearly.
The Djinn kneels and then LEAPS out of the Ampitheatre.
Tinker tears up the front of his shirt to help wrap up the wrist of another eshu that's been hurt.
Celia raises her gun, firing once. People around her disperse, and she continues to run out of the amphitheatre.
Raymond tosses a mugful of water into the face of a half-unconscious nocker, who greets the news with a burst of profanity. Ray answers curse for curse until he helps said nocker to his feet.
Danton is out the door and gone.
Sam McGee mutters to Janet, "... toots.... the place... need... get..."
Janet nods at Sam again, and mutters something back.
Logan starts pushing through the crowd, running when he can to follow
Janet mutters to Sam McGee.
Dolby slumps down to sit on the stage, unceremoniously. Springer stays at her side, looking guilty about the bright handprint on the nocker woman's face. "Thanks, Markie," Dolby finally says, "I think we're beyond the point of doing any good."
Markie trots down to the edge of the stage and sits back down. He's just surveying the panic. Dolby catches his attention. "I tried kid. I tried." He does seem a bit down. He was rockin' out. What a shame.
Raymond hauls an unconscious sluagh girl to her feet, eventually, then watches as she sinks back to the floor. Mumbling drunken phrases to himself, the nocker hoists the girl over his shoulder, caveman-style, before heading in the direction of the stage.
Janet shakes her head and goes back to assessing the damage on the people. "Fucking hell," she mutters. "This was one hell of a wake." She walks over, grabs a tankard of something, and raises it. "Here's to you, Kel. And Phae. Come back soon." Then she drains the tankard.
Sam McGee proceeds towards said pointed out exit. He pulls a cigarette from a battered pack as he goes, lighting it with a match. After a long drag, he snuffs out the match with a snap of his wrist, and tosses it over a shoulder. As the sluagh exits stage left, the match's glow turns slowly from white to orange.
Cess slowly uncurls, eyes wide and frightened. Though she was unthreatened, she wobbles somewhat as she starts toward one of the other injured near her, and pulls out from her rucksack some black armbands that match her own. "I...brought extras. Here. Mournin' band-aids," she says, trying to help the shivering, injured boggan she comes to first.
Dolby kicks out of her high heels, and taps a bracelet on her wrist. Her clothing shimmers and changes. She gets up, expression resolute.
Logan finds a bit of clear ground, and takes off at a dead run shouting "Wings and feathers, beak and talon, give me your form that I may follow on." As he does, silver tinged blue glamour colasces around him, blurring his form. As it clears, it leave behind a golden eagle already on the wing. With a long screeching call, the bird flaps its long wings, and begins climbing after the Owl.
A pause to watch Logan for a moment, then Chloe is turning attention back to the injured and fallen, urging someone here with murmured French, there lifting another to their feet to help them stagger up to the exit.
Well, Tinker standing there with his mouth open might be rude, but it probably won't be talked about, after everything else going on tonight.
Dolby grabs Springer by his shoulders, slap seemingly forgotten or forgiven in the greater circumstance. "Run for Penthea's. Get medics in here to help the injured. Healers if you can find 'em." She herself heads up the tiers for the roof of the amphitheatre, already starting to glow with glamour she's working toward a cantrip. "Word, word, word. Bird is the word. Don't you know the bird is the word, well everybody knows that the bird is the word..."
And eventually, the fallen are gathered up and moved out. Some revive with fresh air, some stagger off towards home, others remain in the hopes of healers arriving.
Raymond mumbles something to himself as he looks about. "Someone let a drunk in on what the hell's going on here?"
Janet drops the tankard, goes over to a small pooka who's badly hurt, and starts singing. As she does so, her fingers play the air like an air-piano, and her Glamour pours out from her fingers, healing the wound. She does this to several people, until she realizes she's spent. "Ok, children. I'm out of here."
Markie makes his way towards the exit. "Damn Shame."
Dolby activates her cantrip and leaps from rooftop to rooftop, electric glamour under her feet.
The Bizarre -- Dermaga Angin Tenteram
The Djinn is tooling out in a boat towards two distant figures in the water. Celia breathes heavily, but looks great doing it.
Dolby comes leaping over the rooftops from the Hondoori, like some demented rhythmic gymnastic anime psychopath, hair blowing like a banner behind her. She pauses to catch her breath, and her bearings.
The bird is far, far out against the sea, now just a vanishing white dot in the air against the sky. Corwin has apparently been dropped some distance out in the waters of the dreaming-sea of Dermaga. Logan has somehow gotten himself there already, and Khalid rows like a madman to attempt a rescue.
Celia frowns, turning. She notes Dolby, and nods once. "You. Do you know anyone who knows the healing arts?"
Dolby rides a lightning-spark of glamour to the ground, and looks to Celia. "Yeah, and he's already out next to the Inquisitor," she says, a livid slapmark on her face finally beginning to fade.
And boy oh boy can a Djinn row. Imagine those Chuck Jones cartoons with the boat all but leaping out of the water? True.
Logan is out in the water with Corwin, their voices can be heard but not made out.
Celia nods once. "Good," is her curt reply. She turns to look at the water once more.
Turning onto his back, the Inquisitor seems to be floating well enough. The water around him, though, is darkening slowly.
Dolby sees that all seems to be well -- or as well as well can seem to be going under the circumstances.
Celia shakes her head, staring out at the darkening water and biting her lip.
Logan murmers something out in the water, glamour gathering around his hands. After a moment he yells, actually almost screams. "Auuuuugh! What the hell!?!"
Khalid sweeps and slows as he gets there, he shifts his weight to pull Corwin gently into the boat without toppling it.
So much for things being as close to as well as they can be. She dips into Logic Surplus, and returns with blankets and towels for when people begin coming ashore. She also has pulled various medicinals off Leopold's shelves, then darts with her bundle to the water's edge. They get dropped there, and she dashes back into the store -- either to pay Leopold or to get something else.
Logan looks up to the boat. "Khalid, once you get him aboard.. I'm going to need a bit of help myself." His voice is tight, controlled.
Celia grimaces, turning to look at Dolby again. "Wait!" she calls. "Can you get some chimera? Non-sentient. Large, preferably."
Logan grits his teeth, sitting down cautious. "Ouch. Damnit. I tried to heal him. The cantrip was completly successful, yet look at me." The sidhe is covered, head to foot, in paper cuts.
Celia frowns, squinting into the boat. She shakes her head. "Nevermind."
Getting pulled into the boat, there seems an odd... awareness come over the Inquisitor just before Khalid hauls him into the boat. Dripping wet, clothes stained in russet hues, he glances up for a moment. He looks at Logan, a touch too predatorially for a moment, fighting it back with icy calmness. He lies back down, offering no commentary to the odd occurence.
Dolby folds her arms and watches at the water's edge, making no comment.
Khalid frowns "Some sort of magical blowback?" He studies you. "I can't treat you very well from here, and I think you need a mage not a nurse." He looks down at Corwin. "If you die before you marry my sister, I'll kill you." And he turns the boar and starts to head back.
Celia glances at Dolby, arching a brow. She looks behind them, at Dolby, and then back to the boat.
Blinking once, the Inquisitor looks up at Khalid. He shakes his head emphatically, seeming at a loss of words beyond that, holding himself to the deck for a few moments, breathing deeply. He seems... oddly out of it.
Khalid paddles back and murmurs softly to Logan.
Logan shifts in his seat, wincing as he shrugs to whatever it is the Khalid said."
Khalid slowly eases the boat into shore and hops out. He leans down and gently lifts out Logan. "I need some healing here." He lowers Logan to the blankets and then lifts out Corwin.
Logan shakes his head. "No, Khalid. I've a feeling if anyone tries, it's either going to result in the same thing for them, or make me worse. It's just uncomfortable as hell, nothing critical."
Celia makes her way toward the boat, looking Corwin over with a frown.
Khalid nods "I'll get you some painkillers. The seawater should have cleaned out the wounds pretty well." He kneels next to Corwin. "How do you feel, Inquisitor?" He makes room for Celia.
Dolby gestures to the pile of stuff from the Surplus on the shore. "Right here, Khalid."
Khalid hmms "Is there anything stronger than Tylenol in there, Miss Powers?" He examines the talon scratches on the Inquisitor, his movements sure and crisp, much like a corpsman.
Dolby smiles wryly at Khalid, "Yeah, knowing Leopold, I don't doubt it." She digs through the pile and comes up with something labeled Extra Strength Pain Reliever. It's a bunch of glowing gold pills. "This should do it...you can ask Leopold what's in it, but the man /is/ an alchemist."
Rising shakily, the Inquisitor finally speaks. "I have no need of healing..." The blood staining the water still dripping off of him would say that to be a lie, however. He glances at Khalid, and shakes his head. "Turn your attentions to Lord Matthews... Lord Al Faisal... Waste it not on me." Yes... he's nearly shaking. But he's standing.
Celia crouches down by Corwin; at some point, her guns have disappeared. "Heal Logan. Shouldn't be a problem to do so." She looks to Corwin for verification on that.
Khalid shakes his head. "No magic. Not if my brother suffered some sort of blowback from using his gifts. We're going strictly mundande."
Celia senses "Dolby glances at you sharply as Corwin makes his remark about not needing healing."
Khalid ahs and looks to Celia. "You would know better than I, of course, Madame."
Dolby gives Khalid a look of dismayed bemusement. "The man teaches four-hundred level chemistry, Khalid. I daresay this is just plain old knowing what works, but what the sprock do /I/ know? Logan? Your call."
Logan looks to Khalid. "It's not urgent, my friend." He winces a bit.. "If all else fails, I can heal myself later, after I've recovered a bit."
The Inquisitor seems to be deliberately looking away from Logan as he turns to Celia. He nods, once, still shaking. "He... might be able to be healed by magic. I do not know."
Khalid studies the glowing pills. Hmmm. "Let's get them both out of the Docks, you both need to be examined anyway. And we don't want our Friend to return for a second course." He looks to Corwin and Logan "Agreed?"
Logan nods to Khalid. "Give me one of those pills Dolby."
Celia cocks her head. "Then, it is as Ms. Powers says; at your will, Viscount Matthews." She smiles faintly, then looks to Corwin. "He does not need examination. I will take him."
Dolby decides to continue being helpful. She got the blankets, may as well put them to use. Logan's is gently draped over him. Celia gets handed the blanket for Corwin. "Right away, Logan." She murmurs to the lid, and it pops open with an audible 'eep'. She drops down to pick up a bottle of water, turning back to Logan in one smooth movement. "Here you go, Logan." She hands him bottle and pill together.
Finally seeming to swallow whatever it is that is bugging him, the Inquisitor nods towards Celia. Oddly setting his demeanor into solid ice, the Inquisitor turns towards Logan. He holds out a hand. "Thank you, Lord Matthews."
Khalid pauses and then murmurs "Of course." And then "Please do not throw away your robes, Inquisitor." Then he kneels. "Should you walk, Logan? I can carry you."
Celia takes the blanket, unfolding it with a wry look and draping it over Corwin's shoulders.
Logan waits to take the pill from Dolby, turning to the Inquisitor, taking the man's hand and grasping it firmly, for a brief moment. "You're welcome sir." He catchs the man's eye for a moment, then looks to Kahlid letting go of the Inquistor's hand. "I'll walk." He takes the pill and water from Dolby, swallowing the pill at once.
Celia murmurs, "Well done, Lord al-Faisal, Lord Matthews. And well done, Ms. Powers."
Dolby drops down to root through the pile of stuff again, and grins wryly, coming up with a couple pots of ointment and poultice. "Thes should work for the cuts, if they're not too deep, Logan." She turns and nods politely at Celia. "We're all in this together, Celia." Celia is favored with a slight smile.
Khalid nods. "Old fashioned 400class chemistry." He murmurs softly, "I apologize for doubting it, Miss Powers." He looms next to Logan, prepared to assist if needed.
Celia's lips tighten; she returns her attention to Corwin. "Of course."
Khalid murmurs "Indeed Madame Turmaine. Thank you for your kind words." He reaches for a blanket to drape it around Logan.
Logan nods to Celia, "Thank you, Milady."
Logan lets the blanket be draped over his shoulders, and takes the ointment from Dolby, smiling his thanks. He starts walking, slower than usual, and wincing occasionally, but he's ambulatory.
Pulling blanket close about him, the Inquisitor tucks the hand underneath it after shaking Logan's hand. He turns back to Khalid, and says "Thank you as well, Lord Al-Faisal. I shan't forget this." Finally, he turns back to Celia, and says "Thank you, finally, Lady Turmaine." He begins to attempt his escape from the boat, still shaking.
Dolby is darting back and forth with an amazing calmness, despite the bloody Corwin and the ragged Logan. She has a few other bandages and more serious-level first aid items, all of which are wordlessly proffered to Celia.
"Your good health and safety are important to us all, Inquisitor." The Djinn murmurs, after a moment.
Celia looks at the bandages for a moment, then accepts them with a nod to Dolby.
Logan murmurs, "I need to find Milady Chloe.. then head home."
Logan walks into the piazza. Khalid walks into the piazza.
Finally securing himself balance upon the dock, the Inquisitor nods towards Khalid as he rises. He glances at Dolby, and nods. "And thank you, Miss Powers." Finally getting the commoner, it would seem. He turns back to Celia, and nods. "Shall we?"
Dolby takes stock of the situation, then nods in response to the Inquisitor. "Does milord or milady require anything additional?" She waits patiently to see if they need aught else before departing herself.
"Yes. Providing no other death omens swoop down on you, Inquisitor," Celia murmurs to Corwin. She looks up at Dolby, shaking her head. "No, thank you, Ms. Powers. You have been more than enough assistance."
Dolby drops into a quick sketch of a curtsy, then, given leave, and turns to depart. "Then I wish milord Inquisitor a swift recovery." She whirls on her heel and returns in a much less dramatic manner than whence she came.
Dolby steps into the piazza.
Chloe sets a glowing hand on Tinker's offered arm, then she too is glancing towards the wet and bedraggled Logan. "My lord Viscount... do you need help?"
Tinker seems to also be looking at Logan, with concern. He's wet, a blanket around his shoulders, and covered head to toe in what appear to be small papercuts.
Dolby passes briefly through the Piazza, immediately spotting Logan by the fact that his presence here has probably cleared him a path. She catches the man's eye with a look that both asks and promises things that Logan himself probably only knows. Then she continues on toward the Hondoori.
You head down the Hondoori no Kaji.
Dolby returns to the amphitheatre, brow furrowed and expression dark. "Well. Does anybody really wanna get back to the festivities?" She regards the mead longingly but does not get a tankard for herself.
Cess raises her flagon; she's shaky but looking better, chatting with Raymond by the booze. "We're celebratin'. Sorta. Things got all shook up, and not in the good way, uh-uh."
Dolby nods. "I just came to see that everyone here was okay. Everybody get attention who needed it?"
Raymond looks over to Dolby and shrugs. "Unless this counts." He raises a half-full flagon of beer.
Raymond adds, "Yeah"
Dolby nods. "Fine. Then I'm out. Time to fuck some answers outta somebody." She smiles at Springer. "Yeah, yeah, I know you smacked the fool out of me. Somebody hadda. No hard feelings." And with that, she breezes back out the door.
Logan considers this for a moment. "Given.. the nature of these wounds, I'm hesitant to have any magical means used on them for fear of them worsening, or for fear that the person who tried would wind up in a similar state. I'll be ... uncomfortable ... for a few days, but it's just an annoyance, really." Uncomfortable? That would seem to be a nominee for understatement of the year.
Dolby returns, dusting off her hands. She makes a beeline straight for Logan, and brings what looks like a hairdryer to bear. It sparkles slightly, then makes a soft whooshing. All the water in the immediate vicinity is drawn into it, through some inexplicable means, far more efficient at drying than hot air.
Logan blinks as he and his clothes dry out. "Thank you, Miss Powers." He nods to the young Nocker.
Dolby grins crookedly. "No sweat, Logan," she tells him. "Be right back. Don't move."
You head toward the Dermaga Angin Tenteram.
The Bizarre -- Dermaga Angin Tenteram
Dolby returns, a couple of moments later with what seems to be a rather large blowdryer. "I thought this might help." She points it at Corwin, and with a soft whooshing noise, all the water in the immediate vicinity is drawn into it, through some inexplicable means -- far more efficient than mere hot air for drying one out.
Celia blinks at Dolby. "Ah. How... innovative," she murmurs.
Dolby salutes Celia with the now twice-its-previous-size 'dryer.' "That's what we-uns do best, milady." And having helped, she turns and departs whence she came, perhaps sensing the Inquisitor and his lady prefer to be alone.
Logan nods to Chloe. "Yes Milady, I would. Thank you very much."
Tinker seems very relieved to see Logan alive. "Khalid, he is alright also?"
Dolby returns, holding the 'dryer' as though it is heavier. In fact, it is twice the size it was. Presumably, she went to the Dermaga and did the same service for Corwin that she'd done for Logan. She catches sight of a nocker childling, and tosses him the item. "Take it back to Kel's. Give it to Springer, and there's a battle top in it for you."
Chloe asks of Tinker, "You will run to tell the driver, oui? He is waiting, outside the Market. Tell him he is to take the Lord Matthews wherever he wishes." Then she nods to Logan, "Monsieur Rigby is right, my lord. It was brave, needed or no."
Logan nods. "Yes. He is fine. He commandeered a boat and brought it out to get us."
Logan bows to Chloe. "Thank you Milady."
Tinker smiles. "Wonderful! I'll go tell the driver right away." Turning, he bolts off, running a zigzag across the plaza.
Tinker disappears through the gate back to the 'real world.' Tinker has left.
Logan looks to Dolby. "Miss Powers? Have you met Milady Chole? I apologize. I don't know where my manners are."
"You are injured, my lord. Introductions can wait for this to be dealt with," Chloe murmurs, though she does turn a bit to face Dolby.
Dolby inclines her head to Logan, and turns her electric blue gaze on Chloe. "Yes, we've met before. Good to see you once more, milady, despite the regretttable circumstances." She sketches a slight approximation of a curtsy by way of formality ... probably more than necessary in the Bizarre, but who can hold frazzled nerves against her after the events of the evening.
Tinker enters the Piazza through the gate. Tinker has arrived. Tinker comes trotting back, his torn jersey flapping madly as he goes.
Chloe nods in return to Dolby's slight curtsy, her own painfully-blue eyes steady on the woman. "Bonjour, mademoiselle." She glances sidelong then to Logan, "You will accept my help to the car, my lord?" It isn't so much a request, since she moves to offer her arm to him, obviously expecting compliance.
Logan nods to Chloe, and smiles a bit. "Somehow, I think that would be wise."
Tinker stands there wondering about something, but doesn't say a word.
Logan takes the proffered arm, saying to Dolby. "Thank you again, Dolby. I'll see you soon?"
Dolby nods to Logan. "Of course, Logan. When you have had time to recover."
Logan nods to Dolby, then looks to Tinker. "Thank you, Master Tinker, for your help, and your concern."
Tinker smiles. "I think I'll go take a long, hot bubble bath."
Tinker smiles at Logan. "Thank you for rescuing the Inquisitor. It was very selfless, Lord."
"Adieu, mon petit ami," Chloe murmurs to Tinker. And with that, she's escorting Logan towards the 'real' world gate, though she's clearly in no rush, letting him take his time.
Logan nods to Tinker and heads out.
Logan walks slower than usual, but not at a snails pace, out thorugh the gates. Logan disappears through the gate back to the 'real world.'Logan has left.
Chloe disappears through the gate back to the 'real world.'Chloe has left.
Dolby comes walking back up the street, glowering.
Raymond peers at Cess curiously and says in a slurred voice. "Sounds like neither of us're going anywhere."
Cess grins at Raymond, and waves a hand at him. "I'm good, I'm good. I ain't drunk yet, just kinda happy." Happy enough that she's weaving just a tad.
Dolby announces, "The fucking Inquisitor's not dead. Logan looks like someone ran him across a cheese shredder, and that's the extent of tonight's fucking entertainment. I'm going to drink the rest of Leopold's mead until I pass out."
Raymond looks over to Dolby and nods slowly. "Alright." Glancing over to Cess, he asks, "Want to go with?"
Cess applauds Dolby. "Wasn't a bad party, even with Big Bird and the Adventure of the Amazing Sidhe Eatin' Fun. Maybe nex' time, the fucker'll really kill somebody." She almost sounds interested in that.
Dolby sighs, and shrugs. "Suit yourselves. At least you two had a good time. Can't say I did right by Kel, did I?" Dejected, she heads back toward the amphitheatre.
Cess shakes her head after Dolby. "Too hard on yourself," she opines, starting to trudge out. "Like you could predict gettin' attacked by frigging Birdzilla? Geejuspleaseus. G'night!" She steps out towards the Piazza.
Dolby smiles faintly at Cess, but continues toward the amphitheatre undaunted.
Raymond is standing there, apparently talking with Dolby.
Celia arrives at Corwin's side; the Inquisitor has a blanket thrown over his shoulders, clothing torn in places. They both look a little worse for the wear.
And the Inquisitor and Celia walk in from the Piazza steadily. The former looks... well... remarkably windblown, despite the air of dignity he focuses about him, not all that unlike the cold that accompanies his presence. He nods towards Dolby and Raymond, then proceeds towards the Amphitheatre.
Raymond is standing there with Dolby, eyeing the Inquisitor and friend curiously.
Dolby smiles tautly at the Inquisitor and Celia, and heads into the amphitheatre herself.
Dolby comes back out, with three tankards of mead, and one of cider, which she's already working on.
Raymond looks over to Dolby, then back, and decides that further drinking sounds like a good idea. To this end, he heads back to the amphitheatre.
Jay stalks into the area, glowering. Probably because he was within half a mile of Corwin.
Dolby finishes the first mug, raises one of the remaining ones to Jay. "Bastard," she says to him, which probably is an indication she's working her way toward drunk.
The wind-blown and blanket-bearing Inquisitor, and far less bedraggled looking Celia, proceed inwards, striding down towards the stage.
Dolby sets her first emptied mug on the bar, and settles on the steps to the stage. Fortunately there's more than one set of steps so she's not impeding Corwin and Celia.
Celia smoothes her hair back behind her ears as she walks. She mutters to Corwin, "... when... swooped upon?"
Jay stalks in, on the heels of everyone else. Hrmph. Bah.
Raymond slowly turns about and spies Dolby, then heads over in her direction slowly.
Corwin frowns a bit, and nods. He pauses scanning about the stage area. He mutters to Celia, "... I... in... it... me... a... talons... my... be around here..."
Celia sighs, eyes scanning the ground. "It shouldn't be too hard to find," she murmurs.
Dolby frowns blurrily at Corwin and Cecilia. "Milord looking for something?"
A bit of a glimmer comes from something off near the stage. The Inquisitor catches sight of it, and points. "Over there?" He moves down the stairs, pausing for a moment as Dolby addresses him. "Yes," he replies. "My cane. My hat, as well, but the cane is of greater import."
"You might have lost the hat in the initial descent to the stage," Celia theorizes, looking up at the stands and squinting.
Raymond blinks a few times to clear his eyes. "Cane? Where?"
Jay smirks. "Yeah, the Inquisitor needs his special assplug if he wants to get any sexual satisfaction. So who's he got ramming it where the sun don't shine this week? That faded flower following him like a lost puppy? Sidhe, go figure," he mocks.
Dolby digs in a pocket for a zippo lighter and lights a strand of her hair, plucking it free from her head first. "Ippity-pippity-poppity pat -- find the Inquisitor's cane and hat." It's a weak will-o-wisp, showing it won't last long. She's apparently not mastered the cantrip yet, but the ball of flame begins bobbing around the room, slowing down in front of the cane.
Blinking once, the Inquisitor says "Thank you, Miss Powers." He glances after the glowing ball of light, and follows it towards the cane. Lifting it from where it rolled off the stage, the Inquisitor inspects it for several moments in silence.
"Why waste your time, Sparky?" asks Jay. "He won't appreciate your help even though he needs it. Hey, raise your hands anyone who's actually see that cocksucking sidhe do something effective."
Raymond downs the rest of his mug, but says nothing.
"You're welcome, Inquisitor," Dolby says softly, and returns to trying to find mystries and answers in the bottom of her mead mug.
Celia's eyebrows raise; she looks toward Jay, lips quirking at the corners.
Glancing just a moment at Jay's heckling, the Inquisitor breathes a bit, then follows the globule of light back over towards Celia, crouching low over the remains of a very flattened tophat. He mutters something to Celia, grimly.
Celia's lips quirk further at the corners; she says something quietly to the Inquisitor.
Jay hmmms. "Small crowd. No challenge. No answer, either." He smirks. "Ya know, Dolbs, you got a great idea here. When Caradoc bites it, can we hold his wake here? I wanna see what he comes back as. I'm guessing sloth pooka."
Dolby glowers over the rim of her mug at Jay, but doesn't say anything. The look alone is one of -those-. If looks could kill, Jay'd have a lily on his chest and need a wake of his own.
Raymond takes another pull from a fresh flagon, apparently intent on studying the mystery of the bottom of his glass.
Jay smirks. "Pass the beer, Kilowatt Kate," he tells Dolby. "Be a good hostess."
Dolby does lift her chin at that. "Wake's -over-, Mr. Fudgie. You missed all the fun. Help your damn self.'
Lifting the remains off the floor with a bit of a sigh, the Inquisitor blinks up at Jay. "Why, Master Willoughby... How thoughtful of you to improve your opinion of me. Wasn't it only a month or two ago that you where swearing that I shall die but one death, all for the crime of..." He pauses for a moment, raising a hand to his chest. "Dare I say... cuckolding you?" He shakes his head quietly. "Regardless, Master Willoughby, thank you for your kind words. As always, they are appreciated."
Jay snorts. "So I'm a bit late. At least I remembered to come and honor the fucking departedly dead. So what's with your attitude, someone douche you with Diet Coke?"
Celia's eyebrows raise, and she eyes Jay anew.
Dolby rolls her eyes, and shrugs. "Keep your thangwhacker outta my boyfriend and I got no static with you, Willoughby."
Jay snorts. "Oh please, like I'd even touch him after he'd been with you? You didn't think I was serious, did you? Christ, you poor gullible bitch."
Raymond yawns as he takes another pull of mead.
Dolby smirks at Jay. "Well, hell, Fudgie, word on the street is if it'll lie still long enough and has a dick, it's game. I didn't believe it until the rumor mill ground into overdrive."
Celia mutters to Corwin, "... was..."
Jay smirks. "Hello, stupid bitch... that was a -pooka- talking. Earth to Dolby, we have a special message: I'm all about the fucking hairy clam."
Dolby tosses back the last of her mug. "Mm-hmm, a pooka. One. To an eshu. Even a broken clock is right twice a day, and your own mouth backed up the rumor, dinnit?"
Smiling politely, the Inquisitor turns to Celia. "We have found what we came here for, Lady Turmaine. Shall we be off?" He turns once back towards Dolby and says "Thank you, Miss Powers, for a fourth time this evening. Take care." With that, he says something quietly to Celia, and turns towards the exit.
Dolby smiles at the Inquisitor, summoning up the last remaining bit of her ladylike composure. "Of course, Inquisitor. Do have a good evening, and I wish you a swift recovery."
Corwin mutters to Celia, "... I... the... Master Willoughby."
Celia blinks at Corwin, saying something deadpan. She mutters to Corwin, "Kill... reincarnates."
Raymond avoids the temptation to burp, as he adds, slurring, "See you later."
Jay just eyes Dolby, his mood changing from mildly annoyed to pointedly homicidal in .05 seconds. "If you so much as even -think- I'm anything but straight, and if you even breathe so much as a word about me being gay, I'll kill you, Dolby. Because I don't like people lying about me or ruining my rep. If my spectacular boning of Chloe on Beltaine wasn't proof enough, let me set the record straight. I ain't gay. Don't annoy me." He glowers at her with a particularly serious, murderous look in his eyes. "I -will- hurt you."
Corwin proceeds towards the exit steadily. He mutters to Celia, "That's... makes... so..." He continues on his way, pausing but for a moment before shaking his head, and continuing out.
Celia smiles briefly, walking at Corwin's side. Celia leaves the amphitheatre. Celia has left.
Dolby doesn't even look flapped. After the night she's had and the alcohol she's drunk, she's either too brave or too numb to care. "I haven't said a word to you or about you that hasn't already been said. Seems to me you need to hunt down yon bigmouth pooka and maybe bite your own tongue. Meantime, fuck off. I'll be scared of you when I'm sober, but it's been a bitch of a night." 'Course she's not meeting Jay's gaze, either, which is probably going a long way to keeping her composure from shaking and falling apart under that look on Jay's face.
Corwin leaves the amphitheatre. Corwin has left.
Raymond, as one might expect, tips the glass up all the more.
Jay steps forward, growling ferally. "What was that?" he snaps. "I don't think you said that with the right amount of respect, bitch. The pooka's already racking up hospital bills. You'll be next if you don't reconsider your words and attitude."
Dolby sets her mug down on the stage and pointedly shakes from head to toe. "There. Better?"
Raymond edges away from Dolby, slowly, to get out of the blast radius.
"I don't feel the sincerity," growls Jay.
"Fine. You want to put me in hospital? -Do- it. Already -told- you I'm not the one spreading rumors." Dolby goes to pick her mead mug back up, finding it empty. That's okay, there are two more beside her that are full. She takes another gulp of mead, the likely source of her fortitude. She's still not looking directly -at- Jay, which is probably indicative she hasn't taken leave of her senses entirely.
"You ain't bright," says Jay, stepping forward again. "Here's some advice, you foolish, suicidal little girl... don't fucking call my bluff because it ain't a bluff. If someone dares me to go ahead and hurt them, I -will-. Now how about some real respect out of the fear of what I'll fucking do to you?"
Dolby sighs. "It's like -this-, Willoughby," Dolby explains calmly. "If it will make you feel better to hurt me, then okay. It's been that bad a night. This will just ice the cake." She takes another gulp of mead. "Add to that that I have seen things that make you look like My Little Pony by comparison? I'm really sorry if I'm not groveling in terror enough to suit you. This is the best I can do at the moment. You want to come back when I have the hangover from hell, I assure you I'll cower pretty for you."
Jay snorts. "You fucking deserve the hangover from hell, just for bringing shit up that annoys me." He turns, and goes to raid the beer. "Goddamned stupid people..."
Raymond, once it becomes obvious that Dolby isn't about to be blown up, slowly edges back towards her.
Dolby is becoming decidedly droopier, and not from sleepiness, the more she drinks.
Jay glowers balefully and drinks heavily.
Raymond looks over to Dolby, then back. "What a night."
Dolby nods. "We need to have another wake for Kel. This wasn't right."
Raymond nods. "Fucking A."
Raymond adds, "Preferably one with some sort of anti-owl gun."
Dolby smirks. "You got the slightest idea how to build an anti-owl gun, by all fucking means, go right ahead."
Raymond nods slowly, slurring as he talks. "lessee...shotgun..
Jay hrmphs. "Not that hard."
"Yeah. You two go right ahead and swing your dicks at it. And I'll laugh when the Dreaming smacks you back for killing one of its favourites," Dolby mutters gloomily.
"Yeah, yeah...Oh well. Maybe just a good net..." Raymond muses.
Jay snorts. "Owl tastes like chicken."
Dolby nods tightly at Jay. "Okay. so what we need is a deep fryer on hand for next time."
Raymond nods slowly. "Maybe we could hit someone with it."
Jay hrrmphs. "Maybe we can get someone to transmute it into a pigeon."
Dolby sighs, and lies back on the stage. "We just need better mojo than it has."
Raymond half-lies and half-topples over, but with the accuracy of the soused, doesn't spill a drop of mead. "Doesn't sound like we could, though."
Dolby mmphs. "It'll take time. I think it's time to go find out what the fuck was up with all that."
Jay scowls and wanders off.
Raymond nods slowly as he yawns. "Yeah.
Dolby struggles back to a sitting position. "We should probably go to bed."
Raymond nods slowly. "Yeah. Where?"
Dolby shrugs. "Kel's is only up the block."
Leopold enters the amphitheatre. Leopold has arrived.
Raymond nods. "Sounds good." Slowly getting up and nearly falling on his face, the male nocker staggers forward.
Dolby staggers to her feet, too, working on her final mug of mead. She's buzzing like a badly-maintained neon sign now.
Leopold throws open the doors, coat clinking at a fast pace. He knows there is an emergency, but running indicates that there is no plan and time is of the essence. Time may or may not be of the essence, but the grump has ideas.
The worst, it would appear, is over. The band has long since split. The few kithain still in the amphitheatre are most vigorously drunk, including the young French nocker girl, who is staggering unevenly toward Raymond. She looks tired and disheveled, but her face is a study in calm.
Raymond looks like he just stepped off of a freighter, since he's swaying back and forth, sort of, while slowly moving up the aisle.
Leopold puts two fingers to his lips and blows a piercing whistle to get the attention of both Raymond and Dolby. It disturbs the air like a concrete block dropping through a glass table.
Dolby winces, and blinks, then gasps, "Leopold!"
Raymond flinches and shouts, "God-fucking-damnit! We know you're here."
Dolby pulls herself together somewhat, and carries herself more-or-less upright to Leopold, at which point she crumples into his arms.
Leopold catches Dolby reflexively, arms shuddering briefly before his balance is regained. He looks toward Raymond, eyes quickly skimming him for any necessity of medical attention before saying, "Vell, now I am vone hundred percent certain of sat. Less talk, more valk. To se metalshop."
Dolby nods droopily, beyond further protest.
Raymond just appears to be as drunk as a fish. "Alright." He avoids the temptation to filch a bad German accent, however.
Making fun of Leopold's accent while the grump is sober may result in mild nausea and abdominal pain. Do not taunt unhappy uninformed ball. He adjusts his stance so that he can give Dolby the leg-up she needs without him falling as well. "Ve go."
Dolby toddles after Leopold, steps getting a teense straighter with Leopold's help.
Raymond leaves the Epidaurus Beta Amphitheatre. Raymond has arrived.
Dolby doesn't even bother with the keys, this time. She just taps on the door until Springer lets her in. "Oh, your face is better, at least," he says, with the air of relieved apology. He doesn't even seem to mind having been awakened in the middle of the night.
You push open the door and enter the Metalworks.
The Bizarre -- Kelric's Metalworks -- Showroom
Leopold pushes open the door, entering the Metalworks. Leopold has arrived.
Dolby doesn't even bother waiting on Raymond. He knows the way. Up the stairs.
You push open the door and head upstairs into the apartment.
The Bizarre -- Kelric's Metalworks -- Upstairs Apartment
Leopold walks up from the Showroom. Leopold has arrived.
Dolby curls up on one of the two recliners; Finlay must've returned the other one at some point. Her face is in her hands.
Raymond walks up from the Showroom. Raymond has arrived.
Dolby is out of her shoes, and out of her labcoat, the latter draped on a coatrack near the door. Dolby herself is in one of the two recliners in here, huddled in a ball with her face in her hands.
Raymond, for his part, staggers up to a recliner and collapses across it. He doesn't say anything about discomfort, either.
Leopold and Raymond release Dolby as she deputizes one of the recliners for her perch-of-the-night, curling up with her face in her hands. The elder takes a deep breath, looking toward Raymond, "I von't ask vhat happened. Not yet, anyvay." Soon Springer comes up with an empty Gatorade bottle filled with ice-cold water, which he slams down with a grunt. "Sank you," is the gratification he hears from Leopold.
Dolby looks up, and takes a deep breath. "We need to throw another wake," she explains, as if that is enough explantion right there.
Raymond nods sagely as he rolls halfway over. "Yeah. This one got buzzed by a pissed-off owl with an attitude. Hauled the Inquisitor off with its bare claws and scared the everliving shit out of everyone there."
Leopold is in the kitchen at this point, and returns with two glasses. He fills them up with water as Raymond explains what happened, and remarks off-handedly, "I should be hearing about sat a hundred sousand times." He then offers them to both inebriated nockers, ordering them to drink.
Dolby nods, obediently, and drinks a glass of water. The effect on her is immediate, but not very profound. The badly-repaired-neon effect goes away, though, which probably comes as a relief. "Ghaaah! That's cold." She shivers, and hugs herself, but finishes the water. One does not argue with Leopold.
Raymond doesn't seem inclined to do so either, and swigs the water down, flinching slightly but apparently not seeming too disturbed. "Yeah, well...That's why we need another wake."
Leopold folds his arms across his chest as he listens, moreso for his mental gymnastics than defensiveness. "Vhy didn't anyvone shoot it?"
"They tried," Dolby explains. "Nobody was successful, it appears, and everybody else tripped out and panicked."
Raymond nods sagely as he lets his arms loll over the side of the chair. "Yeah."
Leopold says, "Times like sis I vish I had brought my flamesrower..." He picks up the bottle, and replenishes cups. "Vas Kel's body disturbed in any vay?"
"And I'm not so sure that shooting it would've done any good. It had some freaky magic going," Dolby adds, head clearing after her second glass of water. "Logan turned into an eagle to chase it--and got him to drop Corwin, but healing Corwin backfired on Logan and now he looks like somebody put him through a cheese grater." She blinks. "Kel's body? Sheez, not that I know of. But we weren't fool enough to have his body here at the amphitheatre!"
Raymond looks blank at the idea as he slowly sits up, mumbling incoherent profanities to himself.
Leopold takes a deep breath, "I had heard about people getting hurt left und right. Off se top of your heads... who vas injured?"
Dolby stretches lazily, calming now that they're out of the location where the trouble took place. Bare toes point before she collects herself. "Nobody we know personally. One or two of Kel's apprentices got a little banged up, but Janet and Logan and a couple other people kept the trample-level down. Anybody badly hurt got sent to Penthea's."
Raymond nods slowly. "Some other random people, a few childlings."
Leopold nods his head, "I sink I vill stop by sere und lend a hand to Pensea vhen I can." Upon hearing about the trampling of childlings, his face grows grim. "But no vone vas killed."
Dolby shakes her head. "No reports have come back of anybody dying of their injuries," Dolby says. "So far. Hopefully we won't. One wake is plenty. Worst injuries were Corwin and Logan themselves."
Raymond nods again. "Yeah."
Leopold doesn't say anything about the injuries of Corwin and Logan. Those two could handle themselves. "I see sat my alcohol vas soroughly enjoyed. Not a total loss."
Dolby nods. "Oh, definitely. And your blankets and your painkillers and your bandages."
Leopold scratches at his temple, "I vas vondering vhy you came by to purchase sem. Given vhat you picked up, I knew sere vas trouble."
Raymond nods again. "Yeah."
Dolby gets to her feet, and stretches again, then thinks better of staying that way and drops back into the chair. "Well, the bird dropped the Inquisitor into the sea, and Logan dove into the sea after him. I think."
Leopold says, "So Logan vent from eagle to fish. Sat man vill never cease to amaze me."
Dolby shakes her head. "No, Eagle to Logan. I think he tried to heal Corwin in the water before Khalid got there with the rowboat." At the mention of the Djinn, Dolby's lip curls up in distaste.
Raymond, for his part, looks blank.
Leopold rubs his cheek as he continues to listen. Once Dolby finishes her last descriptive sentence, he catches the subtle displeasure and cuts it off, "I get se gist of vhat happened, sank you. As for vhat ve do now, I have a proposal: Raymond, I could give you somesing to stave off se drunkenness long enough for you to get home. Do you vant sat?"
Raymond leans up and looks over. "I don't mind. If I can sleep here, no thanks. Maybe being hung over will convince me not to do this again." Riiiiight.
Dolby scoffs at Raymond. "Breaking a tequila bottle over your head hasn't been enough to convince you not to do this. G'wan home..." she trails off, apparently having thought better of finishing the sentence.
Leopold takes a yellow potion from his belt, and holds it out to Raymond, "You vill have a full hour. In sat time, I strongly suggest sat you don't continue drinking. You vill know vhen it comes back."
Raymond looks over to Dolby and pokes out his tongue, then looks back to Leopold. "Alright, alright...."
Dolby shoots Raymond a look. "I spent the night between the ampitheatre and the docks, making sure every friend in the Bizarre stayed alive. You gonna cut me some slack or do I need to start throwing things?"
After the hand-off is made, Leopold then looks back to Dolby, "Sat von't be necessary. You should vatch it, your breasing pattern is irregular. It's eisser alcohol poisoning or se excitement has made you short of brease."
Raymond peers at Dolby curiously. "huh?'
Dolby goes stunned-silent at the possibility she might've drunk herself to alcohol poisoning. She pours herself another glass of water.
Leopold says, "You von't suffer se conseqvences of alcohol poisoning, I vill see to it." He looks toward Raymond, "She is looking better already, ja?"
Raymond nods sagely as he looks over. "Ja.'
Dolby murmurs, a meek, "Thanks," with a nod of her head punctuating the word to each of you.
Leopold shoots Raymond a look, "Now /drink/ se potion!"
Raymond avoids the further temptation to do bad parodies of German stereotypes as he then upends the potion and drinks it.
Dolby regards Raymond curiously. "Will this work as quick as those glowing gold painkillers?"
"Fast, but not nearly as fast as sose painkillers. It is not an emergency to remove drunkenness, but pain must be dealt vis immediately," Leopold notes as he watches Raymond.
Raymond makes a face as he drinks it, but does so nonetheless. Eventually he lowers the bottle.
Dolby ahs. "Logan was appreciative, last time I saw him. I'm really going to have to learn a couple new cantrips, though. Bouncing on the rooftops like I was is tiring." She fights back a yawn.
Leopold says, "As comfortable as you are in sat chair, I don't sink you vill be sleeping sere." He takes out his pocketwatch, watching Raymond with an occasionaly reference to the watch. "Not good for se back."
Raymond peers at Leopold curiously
Dolby grins sheepishly at Leopold. "This? Fairly comfortable, really," she assures him. "I've slept in it before."
Leopold clicks his tongue before tucking the watch away. Whatever he was waiting for is either happening or has happened already, and he doesn't need to keep track. "You should be getting better now, Raymond."
Raymond nods sagely as he looks about. "Yeah. It's not so blurry any more. For a while, anyway. Oh well. See you lot later, I've got to get home." He waves, then heads for the door.
Dolby waves slowly after Raymond. "Yeah. We'll talk about KelWake 2.0 in the afternoon. The morning's booked."
Leopold says, "Hurry on home, Raymond. Vhen you are drunk again, you vill have an unavoidable urge to urinate."
Raymond really wishes he hadn't heard that. Raymond walks down the stairs into the showroom. Raymond has left.
Dolby groans. "Right. Morning's booked up. Groveling at Jay for something that's -his- fault. And finding out how much of what happened tonight Logan knows. And probably having a really classic hangover."
Leopold takes a deep breath, sizing you up, "Sat is vhy I got se vater. Se more you drink, se less damage sat vill be done. A hangover is just your body readjusting to se idea sat alcohol is no longer in se system. Sleeping vill slow down se process, so you might vant to stay avake a little vhile longer before going to bed. Und sen I vant you to make yourself somesing to eat tomorrow. Trust me."
Dolby nods, and at that, she has a smile. "Of -course- I trust you, Leopold," she says, as if it was silly to have even brought it up. "Okay. So stay up a little longer. I can do that. Sleep is for the weak...and those without caffeine."
"Correct." He walks over to the chair, standing behind you and placing his palms on your shoulders. "I vill make sure you have real orange juice in se fridge tomorrow. Have sat vis breakfast. Und I mean a real breakfast, not just a pop tart. I've seen se boxes."
Dolby has the good grace to wince sheepishly. "Only when I'm really in a hurry. A real breakfast, promise." She tilts her head back to look up at you. "Waffles and bacon and eggs."
Leopold says, "Toast is good as vell. I myself like a grilled cheese sandvich after I vake up." He squeezes your shoulders, "You don't have alcohol poisoning, I am now sure of it. I'm sorry to have scared you, even for such a short time."
Dolby leans back in the chair, relaxing visibly at the reassurance. "Good to know. I didn't think I went that far. But between the stress and not wanting the good stuff to go to waste, well..." She shrugs. "I owe you brunch at the least for looking after me. Merci beaucoup."
Leopold's palms gently squeeze your shoulders once more, thumbs pressing into the skin to work out some of the more hidden veins of tension. "If you vere not se vone coming into my store to pick up supplies, I vould have been doubly vorried of vhat happened at se vake."
Dolby gives a little appreciative sigh at the gentle massage. "I was ...the only one...with the presence...of mind...to...do that..." She takes a deep breath. "You have three weeks to stop doing that."
Leopold doesn't relent as he continues speaking, "If it vere somevone else, I vould have to come to se conclusion sat you vere vone of sose terribly injured und unable to move for supplies."
Dolby begins to relax under the gentle massage. "You know me," Dolby quips dreamily, "I barely stand still. The owl would've needed to be quicker than that."
Leopold's prior plan of releasing you after a moment's more of massage is destroyed, leaving him to pamper for a minute or two longer. After that, he reluctantly releases your shoulders and murmurs, "Vait right sere." You hear his footsteps walking into the bedroom.
Dolby waits right here, though there's a slight pout at the cessation of the gentle massage. "Do you play piano too?" Dolby asks, very softly. It might not have carried into the bedroom.
The next thing you feel is a cool sensation washing over your entire body. It is the comforter from the bed. Leopold remains silent as he drapes it over you, explaining, "You vill shiver yourself into powder if you don't cover up vhile sleeping."
Dolby mmmms, closing her eyes. "That's nice," Dolby agrees, "But not conducive to keeping me awake any longer...isn't that what we were going for?"
"If you start to drop off, I still have my air horn," Leopold says as he goes into the kitchen to make final investigations.
Dolby's response is much akin to an alarmed 'meep' noise. She gets up and follows you instead. Motion to stay awake is far better than reversing the dormez vous with an air horn. "What...?" she inquires of your kitchen investigations. "I can shop if there's nothing in the fridge." And likely there isn't, between all her customary visitors, the apprentices, and Grimm.
Leopold notes the lack of proper breakfast supplies, and shuts the door with a little more force than necessary. "Se idea is to get sings prepared so sat you don't have to expend more energy san is necessary. I am developing an indestructible cab inside of a collapsible structure sat absorbs se majority of shock."
Dolby shakes her head. "Don't worry about it, Leopold, honestly. Like I said, I have a -lot- to do tomorrow. More likely than not I'll eat at the Purgatorio on my way out."
Leopold doesn't answer to that as he takes a quick look at the clock. "I have to call upon Pensea und offer her some help. You should try to keep avake for anusser half hour if you can, sen go to sleep. Keep on se vater."
Dolby glances at the clock. "Right. Another half an hour, more water, a big breakfast. Anything else Monsieur le physician?" She embraces you, with her typical impulsive nature, indication she's already reeturning to her default settings. "Thank you again for looking after me."
Leopold slips something into Dolby's pocket before returning the embrace. He isn't a pickpocket by any means, or terribly dextrous. But she may not notice it until she is sober. "Nussing, really. Don't forget se orange juice." He then murmurs, "You are more san velcome, Dolby Powers."
Dolby beams, and at this point in time, does not notice it. "Vous allez a gater moi , et se que vouloir vous faites a moi a cette epoque-la?[1]"
Leopold chuckles as he tousles your hair, "Tun sie wie ich sagen, ich mich tief fur sie interessiere. [2]" Two can play this game of course. He then nods once, "Everysing is in place, so I vill take my leave."
Dolby nods. "I'll catch up with you in the afternoon, promise." She fights a yawn. "G'night, Leopold."
Leopold smiles, "Gute nacht." With that, he walks out of the kitchen and leaves the apartment.
[2]Leopold said: "Do as I say. I care deeply for you."
