A golden Circlet of Souls - Quest Prologue
Dec. 4th, 2015 04:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rubyrubyrubyWhereupon Ruby invites a selection of the Golden Circle's finest to share little bundles of peril.
The inside of the Inn is well lit. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling could stand a polish. But there's so many of them, they beat back the darkness through sheer number. Must be hell on their supply of candles. Despite the damage some time ago, the proprietors have sought to resurrect their business to much the way it was before tsunamis and other strange occurrences. Amber is hard to change.
Those that enter have a darn good view of the interior. The center of the room is empty save for a central hearth. Tables are positioned along the walls in a strange decor choice. A large grating allows impromptu performances by music and theatre troupes in the center of the place and keeps them the warmest of all, should they choose to orbit it while they provide entertainment. And thus it is a focal point.
The place is frequented by the after-dinner crowd. And if they're not at the modest bar, they're at tables or tossing tips into a coffee-pot simmering, empty, atop the hearth. An odd custom. Ruby is there, sipping from a tankard rather than quaffing. Nursing the ale and being detrimental to those wishing to tip the Inn. Her presence provides an invisible force field that few like to come close to.
The door opens just wide enough for Gaval to enter and he reaches behind himself to shut to the door quietly as he looks about the place and taking in it's charm. A small smile and a shrug as he then angles himself through the place, eaving his way to ensure the scabbards of his two swords hanging on his belt do not strike anything. He lifts a hand up in wave to Ruby. "Greetings, Captain. How fair you?"
Liya and Mayhem make their way into the Inn, quietly. Well, as quiet as anyone accompanied by an 18 stone jaguar can be. The cat stays right by Liya's side, mind, ignoring everyone else. Except that one guy who whistles at Liya, he gets a very baleful look from a very big cat. And he backs down, mumbling something about not meaning any harm. Liya might not even have noticed, as her hand finds Mayhem's head, and then the two head towards Ruby's seat, through a crowd that quite honestly just parts to let the big cat go wherever he wants, so long as he doesn't eat them.
Ruby turns to settle her gaze upon Gaval. She licks residue from her lips and swallows. She offers a tight smile of sorts, but flinches at the title of Captain. She tosses her head to try and indicate he should come on over closer. "Fair 'nuff. No need tah use tha C word, Gaval. I ain't aboard ship roight now." Peering past the Alhambran, she spots Liya and her beast. Ruby makes a bit of a face. "Aye...'ere comes Liyandra. Good. You two get along good. Nimble an stubborn. I gots two tables for us. An tha othahs. We talkie-talkie an wag chins and spill drinks." She wrinkles her nose.
Gaval glances over at the woman and her cat and offers her a small bow before taking one the offered seats, curling into it. "Spilling drinks? I hope not. I wouldn't be nimble if I did?" he grins and raises a hand to get an order placed. The server coming by with a ale soon enough. The drink will be placed in front of him and nursed slowly, no doubt.
Liya and Mayhem move along over to where Ruby and Gaval are. She smiles, offers her own bow of sorts, and tilts her head briefly. "Ruby, good day," she says lightly. "I am glad to see you. Is all well?" That said, she slides into a seat gracefully, Mayhem coming to settle on the floor by her chair.
Matthias's course into the Inn has him looking about like someone who's never been in one before, as though he wandered in by accident. There is stubble on his face and a bit of a bleary look in his eyes. He doesn't seem to care about Ruby's people-repellent. He orders a drink before really sizing her up - only to noticing the usually-wild variety of cat and Mayhem's companion. "Liyandra," he says with a wave and a glance. "And... Ruby. Matthias," he says, pointing his thumb at himself. Words are are at a premium tonight.
Ruby lets her gaze linger over Liyandra's tattoo. And then it wanders to other parts of flesh, trying to superimpose the images of other things that aren't visible at all. She toes a few chairs out of the way to make room to either flip the table or just make it easier to sit around. "Good tah see you Liyandra. Been awhile since Sukho...but I 'aven't forgotten. Nevah forget nuthin. Specially when femmes make an im-pression. An...faces-on-fences, writing-on-tha-wall...feel loike Sukho bloody comfortable...in ways. Smells roight." She clears her throat and navigates away from the actual table so people can mosey on up. "Aye! Matthias. Course you'd make it. In-die-structure-able. Truth. I'd offah tah throw you'ah chair but...sure you can manage more than good."
The door to the join pulls open, but there might be a moratorium declared on swirling winter breezes, since no lanterns get to swinging nor grizzly patrons take to hunching closer to their brews. Ahh, see, it's that Merrisol blocking up the doorway, his highwayman cloak filling in the lower gaps as he follows Maggie inside. His gaze narrows in on Ruby in no time, however the glowy atmosphere deserves a once-over, which he does once the door is on its way closed and the couple are making their way around table clusters to Ruby's fortress of solitude. Once they get closer, it's apparent the defenses have been invaded by intrepid other parties. Merrisol's intent expression breaks up into a grin. "Liya.. Mayhem!" His glance roves quickly across the other faces present, tipping a nod here and there, and ending questioningly on Ruby.
Liya smiles as she recognizes Matthias. "Hello there," she says warmly, as she moves her chair a bit, eliciting a protest from a comfortable Mayhem. "Kerf!" comes out next, with delight obvious. And Maggie wins a delighted look as well. "Good to see you all."
Maggie took a brief moment to glance around the Inn-terior while her husband heroically and single-cloakedly stopped the chill from creeping beneath cloaks and trailing shivery fingertips up spines. As the pair make their way to Ruby and the company gathered at that end of things, Maggie deftly sidesteps tables, chairs and spilled drinks. Her gaze flickers over the crowd and a smile blooms quickly to her lips, "Hello! We have not seen you in an age, Liya." Kneeling, she levels a smile at the big cat as well, "Hello there, Mayhem. I see that you have been keeping Liya all in one piece. Good job." She winks, then rises again to offer Ruby a quick smile as well. The others? She offers a quick finger-wave in greeting.
When waitstaff come to the table to take additional orders, they also drop off a flat cutting board, serrated knife and a formidable looking bread that looks like it could withstand any weevel assault. A second smartly-moving fellow also drop off a clay pitcher of water, cups and a piping hot container of coffee. Ruby watches them and scratches at her sternum absently. Scritch-scritch-scritch. "Aye aye...Wee budderflies. Now we won't starve..." While introductions continue she moves over towards a satchel sad-sacked against the wall. She hefts it up and starts rifling through it. She clucks her tongue and she counts heads while mouthing the numbers. "Ooooooroight. Some 'o you 'ave met. Obvious. Tha's roight...pleasant nods, wide smiles, firm shakes, thumbs wrestled..." She moves over so can address the milling group. "Alroight alroight. If anyone offers tah buy drinks, I twist oof their noses. It's paid for. I not complain if you order something else." It's certainly a bland spread to begin with. She raises her voice, melodramatically, like some half-talented stage actor, "IF /only/ I could say we was meetin under purely pleasant circumstances!"
Matthias looks from Maggie's finger-wave down to his own hand, examining it intently before he raises it to make the same gesture back. He takes a swig of ale as he looks over the new arrivals with equal intensity. He ups his formality ever-so-slightly, raising the glass in their direction and saying "Matthias Feldane." He pays attention to any return introductions, but eventually gives attention back to Ruby, just listening.
Gaval looks from face to face. Each new person getting a friendly bow of the head from him. he eaches out and starts cutting sliced of bread up for himself and others, offering choice bits to those who wish it. "Why is this not purely pleasant cicumstances, Ruby? Why all the hush hush and cloack and dagger?"
Merrisol looks again at Liyandra, her glee and Maggie's infecting him with more good cheer. Almost enough to accept this strange meeting without further inquiring glances. "Hullo," he says to Matthias, "I recall our brief acquaintance aboard the Wave Dancer on the way to New Kitezh." And politely leaves it at that, offering for the unfamiliar or forgetful, "Captain Merrisol," he pauses to reach over and claim a couple of chairs side by side, pulling one out for Maggie once her introductions are made. He smirks over Gaval's questions, remarking, "I'm just sort of pleased we were able to get *into* the tavern *before* all the fleeing ruckus and Gulls starts happening, this time around." He considers, then stops a passing server to order a dinner platter of whatever's on special. "Hungry for anything, Hotstuff?" he asks Maggie casually.
Maggie glances over at Ruby as she nay-says the pleasentries and threatens them with injury should they venture to purchase a drink. The look warms when the cause is known, even with the added ominousness. Resettling her gaze on the others, she waits until Merrisol stops speaking to add, "I am Captain Flame, though most call me Maggie when not in Minos. Good to see you, Matthias. Gaval Feldane, good to meet you." Claiming the chair that Merrisol provides, she focuses on him with a lift of her chin and a warmth to her smile, "Please. Let's see... The ale is on its way, I think. Some of the brisket, please. Extra sauce." Because a good bar-b-que is hard to argue with...
Ruby clutches the opened satchel close to her chest like it was a big stuffed teddybear. She raises her voice to address the group. "Aye. Well...I sent oot messages loike long rubbery tentacles tah tap yer shouldahs. An then suckah-tah-flesh, swish-pull you 'ere. What I say 'ere, I say onlah because it be dire...an stoof. Dire!" She widens her eyes to saucers to lend yet more drama. The arm wrapping about the satchel hefts it so that it rubs up and down against her torso. "If you tell /anyone/ I needed 'elp, I say you lie loike stonefish. So...It's loike I trust ya? Course I doo! So tha's why you've decided to 'elp." Wait. Wha? Be kind and rewind. "Or at least you shown some sort 'o quality tha be important. Looks loike bloody Golden Circle 'ere, aye? Al-hambra. Minoos. Sukho. Swole. Rebma...Kitezh, be hhheee ain't shown oop yet. For once, variety good...because this could affect everythin. Affect Ambah. An if it be loike...spokes 'o some bloody strange wheel, well. It good if we save tha hhhhub, roight? Not tha hhhhub be in danger roight? Nawwww. Well...probably. Tha's why I need yer 'elp...not tha I need it! But I moight. We make sure Ambah safe from Bog-awful Barnacled Bog an all 'is blasted bloight!" It's fair to say that spittle has been ejected during her diatribe.
Matthias's left eye narrows to a squint about halfway through Ruby's meandering statement of purpose. "Bog-awful Barnacled Bog?" He doesn't ask about the 'bloight.' Feldanes know bloight, of a traditional necromantic variety. This sounds kind of like a children's story, one of the dark ones.
Liya simply stays quiet and listens, because this is an awe inspiring speech Ruby is giving. Seriously. And besides that, her player is going to go sleep. And is unable currently to pose worth a dang.
Gaval hands out a few more slices of this and that before settling back into his seat and eyeing Ruby. It takes him that long to run her words back through his head and decypher them. "You still haven't said what that dire thing might be, Ruby. But i'm not sure I've seen you worked up like this. Must, indeed, be dire."
His chair reversed, and settled into after the orders are made aside, Merrisol absently pulls the clasps of his coat free. His hand goes to his upper abdomen, then stops and drops before getting in any sympathetic scratching for Ruby's apparent itchies, and he leans in on the backrest to ward away a relapse. The great blustery speech keeps him silent now, considering Ruby attentively in spite of all her contradictory statements. When comments and questions start peppering, he drops his gaze and busies with pouring some of the simple brew into cups for himself and Maggie.
Maggie's attention turns to Ruby and remains there throughout. Sorting as she listens, she creates two imaginary barrels in her mind to place the words. Absently she lables them 'relevant' and 'window-dressing'. A frows grows as the sorting continues. Relevant facts begin to form a picture for her. Gradually. The irrelivant stuff is discarded. Leaning a little toward Merrisol as he begins to pour the drinks, she murmers a quiet, "Thanks, love." Then? She returns her attention to Ruby, "So... What do you need us to do?"
Ruby nods vigorously. She could use a torch under her chin to help cast some choice shadows. "Bog. You ain't felt nuthin till you felt 'is cold touch in tha space between big toe an tha next. 'Orrible orrible. An if 'e tha close, hhhhis othah ten-tickle be playin yer spoine loike chimes. Don't ask 'ow...but it be from tha inside. Then you 'is sock puppet. Literal. Gotta stop what /can/ be stopped before 'e turns over-easy-runny-egg-eye at Ambah." She lurches over to the table and then upends her satchel, spilling six small pouches inbetween the carefull sliced bread (sorry Gaval) and the assorted cups and pitchers. "These...these need tah goooooo."
Ruby Declares a Token
This is Ruby's Toss-Me-Not.
According to her: It is born from a custom of her village in some corner of the world or far-flung shadow. Forbidden for men to touch, it is reserved for the females of the tribe. Passed from relative to relative or only the most trusted companions and friends, these artifacts possess great import, particularly to the one offering. There are usually only two things that can be done with it. Either keep it secreted or dispose of it in such a way that absolutely no trace remains. Those that have taken the latter route have sought out the most destructive methods of annihilation. The trek to such final places a quest in itself. Of course, sometimes there's something nice about having potential blackmail material or leverage. Once accepted, the decision is ultimately left to the caretaker. One thing is crucial however; It must never be opened. Of course, there's always tales of that one young woman who takes a peek before flinging it into a simmering volcano/magma/stomach acid of liquefying beast. And Ruby is more than happy to share such tales with relish and/or embellishment.
According to the senses: This pouch is constructed out of tough water-proof leather, double-lined or padded to protect whatever mysterious contents may lurk inside. It has a draw-string at the top that has been tightly tugged, wrapped many times about its neck and knotted compulsively to keep it shut. The craftsmanship is more than adequate. This is not some common container that will fall apart if it is (oops!) dropped, kicked, dragged against something to /accidentally/ tug it open. If one kneads at the bag, objects inside will give only the most vague clues to their identity. It could be dice. It could be spiders. It could be coins. It could be rubies. It could be all or none of those things. To those sensitive to detecting a whiff of magic, it gives off no such scent. Just an innocent pouch. Nothing horrible or wondrous or damning or precious. Completely non-threatening. It could be spiders.
Matthias doesn't immediately reach out to pick up one of the bags, instead staring at them, then leaning to one side to stare at them a little more from a different angle. "What?" He starts to reach out a cautious finger.
Gaval watches with distate as the bags ar poured wiley-niley apon the table and food. One coming to rest on his plate. A brow rises and he sturns to stare at Ruby in silence. Arms slowly crossing over his chest and he waits.
Merri is upending his cup around the same time Ruby is dumping her weird life onto their supper table. His gaze rolls his line-of-sight low around the rim of his ale cup, checking out the tumble of little sacs around their erstwhile side course. Gulp. He places his drink down carefully, but makes no move to claim a bag of his own. He looks to Maggie instead, cranking up his brows to inquire what she makes of it all.
Maggie sits up slowly as Ruby tumbles her bags out onto the table. In a mock mimic of Ruby's earlier expression, her eyes grow wide and round. There was a story once, a tale of sorts, told about the time of Maggie's wedding. Wasn't that it? Looking up again, she seeks Merrisol's glance, minutely shrugs, then turns back to Ruby, "Go? Where? And what do we do with them when we get there?"
Now that the satchel is empty Ruby tosses it over her shoulder to once again sag against the wall and floor. Ruby extends a hand and gestures to the pouches. "Some 'o you know what these moight be. Some don't. Tha's foine. If you wanna 'elp me. You take /one/. You keep it on you until we foind six bloody good places tah rid them. Tha throw oof Bog. Be loike...dog gettin whiff 'o bitch. But she been chopped oop good an spread tah all points 'o compass." Mmmm! Imagery! "You each take one, then you follow me intah six different places I got sussed, roight? Bloody good places. An when we succeed, you all rewarded. You all remembered. Especially them tha don't come back because they not quick enough or tough enough or smart enough." Ruby reaches up and scratches between her bosom again. "Listen...Listen. 'Ear me words. I seen some 'o you doo things. I know you're all good femmes...an blokes." she adds with diminished vigour. "If I was back 'ome, I'd 'ave me sistahs an aunties. They'd know risks an laugh an slap cheeks. I know six places...but they Bog-blasted 'ard tah get to alone. Need nimble an strong an lucky and femme. If you come along, you wear on your person until able tah...drop 'ot poo-tay-tooos."
Matthias pokes one of the pouches as he listens to the explanation. Then he hefts the pouch in his hand, weighing the issue and the little bag. "I can help," he decides. In proper nesting doll fashion, he loosens his belt pouch to hide the new pouch within it, then ties it fast again. "So long as Bog is real," he adds. Not dying for a fairy tale, no sir!
Merrisol blinks perplexedly, then goes back to looking up at Ruby, when Maggie can offer neither head nor tail of the mysterious pouches. He props one arm overtop the chair backrest and one hand on the table, so he can leeeean further over the table and give the offerings a closer, lingering perusal. At some points, Ruby's phrasing waxes lyrical enough to drag his focus upwards in a slow roll, passing over the scratches more obliquely. He just can't help noticing it, for some odd reason. Eventually, he too picks up his hand and places it very deliberately over one of the pouches, not unlike a soldier throwing himself upon a grenade. "I'll take one.." For the team! "And you've been going about with all six, all this time - is that it, Ruby?" he queries. Was that a very dry accusation? Certainly not! He's Rebman, after all.
Liya has been listening, and watching, and she reaches forward, eyes on the pouches quite curiously. She picks one at random, and also tucks it into her belt pouch. "I too will take one," she says. "Whatever it is. But if it haunts me in my dreams, I might have to return the favour."
Maggie has been wawtching Ruby with a quiet intensity. Something in the speach seems to afirm a suspician. The tip of her tongue touches her lips, the motion just a little tentative, hesitant. One by one the others claim their pouches and secret them away. Soon there are only a few left, including the one resting in the shadow of Merrisol's hand. Leaning forward just a bit, Maggie eyes the one left nearer to her than the other unclaimed bags. "So the journey will be perilous, fraught with danger. The ending will be an uncertain return after six different adventures." Drawing in a breath, she twitches a smile toward Ruby, "All to save Amber from the depridations of an angry or hungry Bog? Traveling with people I care about." Some of whom might not return? Say it isn't so! "Sounds like fun." She reaches forward at last to take up the bag nearest to her. Eyeing it, she lowers her hand to tuck it into her own belt pouch, "What are the rules? And when do we start?"
Maggie sidles a glance over to Liya and her grin flashes quickly into place, "Um. Are you going to haunt its dreams or Ruby's?" As though the pouch dreams... Perhaps it does... Spider dreams.
Ruby seems to release a bit of tension as some of the little tokens have new temporary caretakers. She stops fussing at herself and hooks her hands on her hips. "Well...I bloody strong, roight? Strongah than most. An femme. So it be loike...well...loike be'n Mum. You gots all these kids, roight? Well, can't just abandon them. But they not kids, because I'd nevah toss one intah volcanooo. Not unless bloighted. HAW." She makes a 'I-be-joking' guffaw. "This all be good Karma. Truth. This make femmes intah 'eroines an blokes intah femmes. Well...loike, more. Almost. This be 'onour, roight? I not even supposed tah let any 'o you blokes tooch this stoof. But 'ell...I hhhhad /six/. An it all be worth't." She pauses for an actual breath. "Rules are this: Don't loose'm. If you loose'm, we fooked. It ain't just sym-boolic. It's powah. It's counter-taboo. It means somethin. Means somethin tah me eeeee-specially. An you know I'd 'elp any 'o you for anythin evah. Cause if it be important, then it needs doo'n. I nevah run from anythin tha be real important. Truth. If someone gets 'kacked'...We snatch pouch. Carry on. Bog be damned."
When the item doesn't explode or otherwise tingle his palm, Merrisol turns his hand over, deftly swiping the baggy into his possession. It bounds up once jauntily, or even ominously, and lands in the bowl of his palm. Figure if they could be dropped so unceremoniously onto the table, he can do a little bit of hacky-sack with his until he figures out where to stow it. Of course, when Ruby begins to describe their sacred qualities, he stops, and closes his hand around the blasted thing with a more serious nod. "You would help, Ruby, and you have. Very well," he frowns, "Best case is nobody gets kacked, though. That end starts with preparing for the jaunts. And it sounds as though you've already been to these bloody good places."
Ruby mirrors Merrisol's frown. "Best cases. Truth. This ain't trip tah court though. I prepare as good as any femme. I know what tah bring. You lot." She reaches up and scratches at her chest before commenting further. "Well, it just so 'appens I scouted oot some 'o these places. Made sure they tha type I need. Tha type we need. Six places tah make deposit. It ain't me fault they full 'o peril...an spiders...an 'orror. Truth. Just tha...well, can't drop oof these things just anywhere if we not able tah destroy'm. Gotta be unique. Tough tah get to. Special." she adopts a wide smile and tilts her head to the side. "Loike...this grooooooup."
The inside of the Inn is well lit. The lanterns hanging from the ceiling could stand a polish. But there's so many of them, they beat back the darkness through sheer number. Must be hell on their supply of candles. Despite the damage some time ago, the proprietors have sought to resurrect their business to much the way it was before tsunamis and other strange occurrences. Amber is hard to change.
Those that enter have a darn good view of the interior. The center of the room is empty save for a central hearth. Tables are positioned along the walls in a strange decor choice. A large grating allows impromptu performances by music and theatre troupes in the center of the place and keeps them the warmest of all, should they choose to orbit it while they provide entertainment. And thus it is a focal point.
The place is frequented by the after-dinner crowd. And if they're not at the modest bar, they're at tables or tossing tips into a coffee-pot simmering, empty, atop the hearth. An odd custom. Ruby is there, sipping from a tankard rather than quaffing. Nursing the ale and being detrimental to those wishing to tip the Inn. Her presence provides an invisible force field that few like to come close to.
The door opens just wide enough for Gaval to enter and he reaches behind himself to shut to the door quietly as he looks about the place and taking in it's charm. A small smile and a shrug as he then angles himself through the place, eaving his way to ensure the scabbards of his two swords hanging on his belt do not strike anything. He lifts a hand up in wave to Ruby. "Greetings, Captain. How fair you?"
Liya and Mayhem make their way into the Inn, quietly. Well, as quiet as anyone accompanied by an 18 stone jaguar can be. The cat stays right by Liya's side, mind, ignoring everyone else. Except that one guy who whistles at Liya, he gets a very baleful look from a very big cat. And he backs down, mumbling something about not meaning any harm. Liya might not even have noticed, as her hand finds Mayhem's head, and then the two head towards Ruby's seat, through a crowd that quite honestly just parts to let the big cat go wherever he wants, so long as he doesn't eat them.
Ruby turns to settle her gaze upon Gaval. She licks residue from her lips and swallows. She offers a tight smile of sorts, but flinches at the title of Captain. She tosses her head to try and indicate he should come on over closer. "Fair 'nuff. No need tah use tha C word, Gaval. I ain't aboard ship roight now." Peering past the Alhambran, she spots Liya and her beast. Ruby makes a bit of a face. "Aye...'ere comes Liyandra. Good. You two get along good. Nimble an stubborn. I gots two tables for us. An tha othahs. We talkie-talkie an wag chins and spill drinks." She wrinkles her nose.
Gaval glances over at the woman and her cat and offers her a small bow before taking one the offered seats, curling into it. "Spilling drinks? I hope not. I wouldn't be nimble if I did?" he grins and raises a hand to get an order placed. The server coming by with a ale soon enough. The drink will be placed in front of him and nursed slowly, no doubt.
Liya and Mayhem move along over to where Ruby and Gaval are. She smiles, offers her own bow of sorts, and tilts her head briefly. "Ruby, good day," she says lightly. "I am glad to see you. Is all well?" That said, she slides into a seat gracefully, Mayhem coming to settle on the floor by her chair.
Matthias's course into the Inn has him looking about like someone who's never been in one before, as though he wandered in by accident. There is stubble on his face and a bit of a bleary look in his eyes. He doesn't seem to care about Ruby's people-repellent. He orders a drink before really sizing her up - only to noticing the usually-wild variety of cat and Mayhem's companion. "Liyandra," he says with a wave and a glance. "And... Ruby. Matthias," he says, pointing his thumb at himself. Words are are at a premium tonight.
Ruby lets her gaze linger over Liyandra's tattoo. And then it wanders to other parts of flesh, trying to superimpose the images of other things that aren't visible at all. She toes a few chairs out of the way to make room to either flip the table or just make it easier to sit around. "Good tah see you Liyandra. Been awhile since Sukho...but I 'aven't forgotten. Nevah forget nuthin. Specially when femmes make an im-pression. An...faces-on-fences, writing-on-tha-wall...feel loike Sukho bloody comfortable...in ways. Smells roight." She clears her throat and navigates away from the actual table so people can mosey on up. "Aye! Matthias. Course you'd make it. In-die-structure-able. Truth. I'd offah tah throw you'ah chair but...sure you can manage more than good."
The door to the join pulls open, but there might be a moratorium declared on swirling winter breezes, since no lanterns get to swinging nor grizzly patrons take to hunching closer to their brews. Ahh, see, it's that Merrisol blocking up the doorway, his highwayman cloak filling in the lower gaps as he follows Maggie inside. His gaze narrows in on Ruby in no time, however the glowy atmosphere deserves a once-over, which he does once the door is on its way closed and the couple are making their way around table clusters to Ruby's fortress of solitude. Once they get closer, it's apparent the defenses have been invaded by intrepid other parties. Merrisol's intent expression breaks up into a grin. "Liya.. Mayhem!" His glance roves quickly across the other faces present, tipping a nod here and there, and ending questioningly on Ruby.
Liya smiles as she recognizes Matthias. "Hello there," she says warmly, as she moves her chair a bit, eliciting a protest from a comfortable Mayhem. "Kerf!" comes out next, with delight obvious. And Maggie wins a delighted look as well. "Good to see you all."
Maggie took a brief moment to glance around the Inn-terior while her husband heroically and single-cloakedly stopped the chill from creeping beneath cloaks and trailing shivery fingertips up spines. As the pair make their way to Ruby and the company gathered at that end of things, Maggie deftly sidesteps tables, chairs and spilled drinks. Her gaze flickers over the crowd and a smile blooms quickly to her lips, "Hello! We have not seen you in an age, Liya." Kneeling, she levels a smile at the big cat as well, "Hello there, Mayhem. I see that you have been keeping Liya all in one piece. Good job." She winks, then rises again to offer Ruby a quick smile as well. The others? She offers a quick finger-wave in greeting.
When waitstaff come to the table to take additional orders, they also drop off a flat cutting board, serrated knife and a formidable looking bread that looks like it could withstand any weevel assault. A second smartly-moving fellow also drop off a clay pitcher of water, cups and a piping hot container of coffee. Ruby watches them and scratches at her sternum absently. Scritch-scritch-scritch. "Aye aye...Wee budderflies. Now we won't starve..." While introductions continue she moves over towards a satchel sad-sacked against the wall. She hefts it up and starts rifling through it. She clucks her tongue and she counts heads while mouthing the numbers. "Ooooooroight. Some 'o you 'ave met. Obvious. Tha's roight...pleasant nods, wide smiles, firm shakes, thumbs wrestled..." She moves over so can address the milling group. "Alroight alroight. If anyone offers tah buy drinks, I twist oof their noses. It's paid for. I not complain if you order something else." It's certainly a bland spread to begin with. She raises her voice, melodramatically, like some half-talented stage actor, "IF /only/ I could say we was meetin under purely pleasant circumstances!"
Matthias looks from Maggie's finger-wave down to his own hand, examining it intently before he raises it to make the same gesture back. He takes a swig of ale as he looks over the new arrivals with equal intensity. He ups his formality ever-so-slightly, raising the glass in their direction and saying "Matthias Feldane." He pays attention to any return introductions, but eventually gives attention back to Ruby, just listening.
Gaval looks from face to face. Each new person getting a friendly bow of the head from him. he eaches out and starts cutting sliced of bread up for himself and others, offering choice bits to those who wish it. "Why is this not purely pleasant cicumstances, Ruby? Why all the hush hush and cloack and dagger?"
Merrisol looks again at Liyandra, her glee and Maggie's infecting him with more good cheer. Almost enough to accept this strange meeting without further inquiring glances. "Hullo," he says to Matthias, "I recall our brief acquaintance aboard the Wave Dancer on the way to New Kitezh." And politely leaves it at that, offering for the unfamiliar or forgetful, "Captain Merrisol," he pauses to reach over and claim a couple of chairs side by side, pulling one out for Maggie once her introductions are made. He smirks over Gaval's questions, remarking, "I'm just sort of pleased we were able to get *into* the tavern *before* all the fleeing ruckus and Gulls starts happening, this time around." He considers, then stops a passing server to order a dinner platter of whatever's on special. "Hungry for anything, Hotstuff?" he asks Maggie casually.
Maggie glances over at Ruby as she nay-says the pleasentries and threatens them with injury should they venture to purchase a drink. The look warms when the cause is known, even with the added ominousness. Resettling her gaze on the others, she waits until Merrisol stops speaking to add, "I am Captain Flame, though most call me Maggie when not in Minos. Good to see you, Matthias. Gaval Feldane, good to meet you." Claiming the chair that Merrisol provides, she focuses on him with a lift of her chin and a warmth to her smile, "Please. Let's see... The ale is on its way, I think. Some of the brisket, please. Extra sauce." Because a good bar-b-que is hard to argue with...
Ruby clutches the opened satchel close to her chest like it was a big stuffed teddybear. She raises her voice to address the group. "Aye. Well...I sent oot messages loike long rubbery tentacles tah tap yer shouldahs. An then suckah-tah-flesh, swish-pull you 'ere. What I say 'ere, I say onlah because it be dire...an stoof. Dire!" She widens her eyes to saucers to lend yet more drama. The arm wrapping about the satchel hefts it so that it rubs up and down against her torso. "If you tell /anyone/ I needed 'elp, I say you lie loike stonefish. So...It's loike I trust ya? Course I doo! So tha's why you've decided to 'elp." Wait. Wha? Be kind and rewind. "Or at least you shown some sort 'o quality tha be important. Looks loike bloody Golden Circle 'ere, aye? Al-hambra. Minoos. Sukho. Swole. Rebma...Kitezh, be hhheee ain't shown oop yet. For once, variety good...because this could affect everythin. Affect Ambah. An if it be loike...spokes 'o some bloody strange wheel, well. It good if we save tha hhhhub, roight? Not tha hhhhub be in danger roight? Nawwww. Well...probably. Tha's why I need yer 'elp...not tha I need it! But I moight. We make sure Ambah safe from Bog-awful Barnacled Bog an all 'is blasted bloight!" It's fair to say that spittle has been ejected during her diatribe.
Matthias's left eye narrows to a squint about halfway through Ruby's meandering statement of purpose. "Bog-awful Barnacled Bog?" He doesn't ask about the 'bloight.' Feldanes know bloight, of a traditional necromantic variety. This sounds kind of like a children's story, one of the dark ones.
Liya simply stays quiet and listens, because this is an awe inspiring speech Ruby is giving. Seriously. And besides that, her player is going to go sleep. And is unable currently to pose worth a dang.
Gaval hands out a few more slices of this and that before settling back into his seat and eyeing Ruby. It takes him that long to run her words back through his head and decypher them. "You still haven't said what that dire thing might be, Ruby. But i'm not sure I've seen you worked up like this. Must, indeed, be dire."
His chair reversed, and settled into after the orders are made aside, Merrisol absently pulls the clasps of his coat free. His hand goes to his upper abdomen, then stops and drops before getting in any sympathetic scratching for Ruby's apparent itchies, and he leans in on the backrest to ward away a relapse. The great blustery speech keeps him silent now, considering Ruby attentively in spite of all her contradictory statements. When comments and questions start peppering, he drops his gaze and busies with pouring some of the simple brew into cups for himself and Maggie.
Maggie's attention turns to Ruby and remains there throughout. Sorting as she listens, she creates two imaginary barrels in her mind to place the words. Absently she lables them 'relevant' and 'window-dressing'. A frows grows as the sorting continues. Relevant facts begin to form a picture for her. Gradually. The irrelivant stuff is discarded. Leaning a little toward Merrisol as he begins to pour the drinks, she murmers a quiet, "Thanks, love." Then? She returns her attention to Ruby, "So... What do you need us to do?"
Ruby nods vigorously. She could use a torch under her chin to help cast some choice shadows. "Bog. You ain't felt nuthin till you felt 'is cold touch in tha space between big toe an tha next. 'Orrible orrible. An if 'e tha close, hhhhis othah ten-tickle be playin yer spoine loike chimes. Don't ask 'ow...but it be from tha inside. Then you 'is sock puppet. Literal. Gotta stop what /can/ be stopped before 'e turns over-easy-runny-egg-eye at Ambah." She lurches over to the table and then upends her satchel, spilling six small pouches inbetween the carefull sliced bread (sorry Gaval) and the assorted cups and pitchers. "These...these need tah goooooo."
Ruby Declares a Token
This is Ruby's Toss-Me-Not.
According to her: It is born from a custom of her village in some corner of the world or far-flung shadow. Forbidden for men to touch, it is reserved for the females of the tribe. Passed from relative to relative or only the most trusted companions and friends, these artifacts possess great import, particularly to the one offering. There are usually only two things that can be done with it. Either keep it secreted or dispose of it in such a way that absolutely no trace remains. Those that have taken the latter route have sought out the most destructive methods of annihilation. The trek to such final places a quest in itself. Of course, sometimes there's something nice about having potential blackmail material or leverage. Once accepted, the decision is ultimately left to the caretaker. One thing is crucial however; It must never be opened. Of course, there's always tales of that one young woman who takes a peek before flinging it into a simmering volcano/magma/stomach acid of liquefying beast. And Ruby is more than happy to share such tales with relish and/or embellishment.
According to the senses: This pouch is constructed out of tough water-proof leather, double-lined or padded to protect whatever mysterious contents may lurk inside. It has a draw-string at the top that has been tightly tugged, wrapped many times about its neck and knotted compulsively to keep it shut. The craftsmanship is more than adequate. This is not some common container that will fall apart if it is (oops!) dropped, kicked, dragged against something to /accidentally/ tug it open. If one kneads at the bag, objects inside will give only the most vague clues to their identity. It could be dice. It could be spiders. It could be coins. It could be rubies. It could be all or none of those things. To those sensitive to detecting a whiff of magic, it gives off no such scent. Just an innocent pouch. Nothing horrible or wondrous or damning or precious. Completely non-threatening. It could be spiders.
Matthias doesn't immediately reach out to pick up one of the bags, instead staring at them, then leaning to one side to stare at them a little more from a different angle. "What?" He starts to reach out a cautious finger.
Gaval watches with distate as the bags ar poured wiley-niley apon the table and food. One coming to rest on his plate. A brow rises and he sturns to stare at Ruby in silence. Arms slowly crossing over his chest and he waits.
Merri is upending his cup around the same time Ruby is dumping her weird life onto their supper table. His gaze rolls his line-of-sight low around the rim of his ale cup, checking out the tumble of little sacs around their erstwhile side course. Gulp. He places his drink down carefully, but makes no move to claim a bag of his own. He looks to Maggie instead, cranking up his brows to inquire what she makes of it all.
Maggie sits up slowly as Ruby tumbles her bags out onto the table. In a mock mimic of Ruby's earlier expression, her eyes grow wide and round. There was a story once, a tale of sorts, told about the time of Maggie's wedding. Wasn't that it? Looking up again, she seeks Merrisol's glance, minutely shrugs, then turns back to Ruby, "Go? Where? And what do we do with them when we get there?"
Now that the satchel is empty Ruby tosses it over her shoulder to once again sag against the wall and floor. Ruby extends a hand and gestures to the pouches. "Some 'o you know what these moight be. Some don't. Tha's foine. If you wanna 'elp me. You take /one/. You keep it on you until we foind six bloody good places tah rid them. Tha throw oof Bog. Be loike...dog gettin whiff 'o bitch. But she been chopped oop good an spread tah all points 'o compass." Mmmm! Imagery! "You each take one, then you follow me intah six different places I got sussed, roight? Bloody good places. An when we succeed, you all rewarded. You all remembered. Especially them tha don't come back because they not quick enough or tough enough or smart enough." Ruby reaches up and scratches between her bosom again. "Listen...Listen. 'Ear me words. I seen some 'o you doo things. I know you're all good femmes...an blokes." she adds with diminished vigour. "If I was back 'ome, I'd 'ave me sistahs an aunties. They'd know risks an laugh an slap cheeks. I know six places...but they Bog-blasted 'ard tah get to alone. Need nimble an strong an lucky and femme. If you come along, you wear on your person until able tah...drop 'ot poo-tay-tooos."
Matthias pokes one of the pouches as he listens to the explanation. Then he hefts the pouch in his hand, weighing the issue and the little bag. "I can help," he decides. In proper nesting doll fashion, he loosens his belt pouch to hide the new pouch within it, then ties it fast again. "So long as Bog is real," he adds. Not dying for a fairy tale, no sir!
Merrisol blinks perplexedly, then goes back to looking up at Ruby, when Maggie can offer neither head nor tail of the mysterious pouches. He props one arm overtop the chair backrest and one hand on the table, so he can leeeean further over the table and give the offerings a closer, lingering perusal. At some points, Ruby's phrasing waxes lyrical enough to drag his focus upwards in a slow roll, passing over the scratches more obliquely. He just can't help noticing it, for some odd reason. Eventually, he too picks up his hand and places it very deliberately over one of the pouches, not unlike a soldier throwing himself upon a grenade. "I'll take one.." For the team! "And you've been going about with all six, all this time - is that it, Ruby?" he queries. Was that a very dry accusation? Certainly not! He's Rebman, after all.
Liya has been listening, and watching, and she reaches forward, eyes on the pouches quite curiously. She picks one at random, and also tucks it into her belt pouch. "I too will take one," she says. "Whatever it is. But if it haunts me in my dreams, I might have to return the favour."
Maggie has been wawtching Ruby with a quiet intensity. Something in the speach seems to afirm a suspician. The tip of her tongue touches her lips, the motion just a little tentative, hesitant. One by one the others claim their pouches and secret them away. Soon there are only a few left, including the one resting in the shadow of Merrisol's hand. Leaning forward just a bit, Maggie eyes the one left nearer to her than the other unclaimed bags. "So the journey will be perilous, fraught with danger. The ending will be an uncertain return after six different adventures." Drawing in a breath, she twitches a smile toward Ruby, "All to save Amber from the depridations of an angry or hungry Bog? Traveling with people I care about." Some of whom might not return? Say it isn't so! "Sounds like fun." She reaches forward at last to take up the bag nearest to her. Eyeing it, she lowers her hand to tuck it into her own belt pouch, "What are the rules? And when do we start?"
Maggie sidles a glance over to Liya and her grin flashes quickly into place, "Um. Are you going to haunt its dreams or Ruby's?" As though the pouch dreams... Perhaps it does... Spider dreams.
Ruby seems to release a bit of tension as some of the little tokens have new temporary caretakers. She stops fussing at herself and hooks her hands on her hips. "Well...I bloody strong, roight? Strongah than most. An femme. So it be loike...well...loike be'n Mum. You gots all these kids, roight? Well, can't just abandon them. But they not kids, because I'd nevah toss one intah volcanooo. Not unless bloighted. HAW." She makes a 'I-be-joking' guffaw. "This all be good Karma. Truth. This make femmes intah 'eroines an blokes intah femmes. Well...loike, more. Almost. This be 'onour, roight? I not even supposed tah let any 'o you blokes tooch this stoof. But 'ell...I hhhhad /six/. An it all be worth't." She pauses for an actual breath. "Rules are this: Don't loose'm. If you loose'm, we fooked. It ain't just sym-boolic. It's powah. It's counter-taboo. It means somethin. Means somethin tah me eeeee-specially. An you know I'd 'elp any 'o you for anythin evah. Cause if it be important, then it needs doo'n. I nevah run from anythin tha be real important. Truth. If someone gets 'kacked'...We snatch pouch. Carry on. Bog be damned."
When the item doesn't explode or otherwise tingle his palm, Merrisol turns his hand over, deftly swiping the baggy into his possession. It bounds up once jauntily, or even ominously, and lands in the bowl of his palm. Figure if they could be dropped so unceremoniously onto the table, he can do a little bit of hacky-sack with his until he figures out where to stow it. Of course, when Ruby begins to describe their sacred qualities, he stops, and closes his hand around the blasted thing with a more serious nod. "You would help, Ruby, and you have. Very well," he frowns, "Best case is nobody gets kacked, though. That end starts with preparing for the jaunts. And it sounds as though you've already been to these bloody good places."
Ruby mirrors Merrisol's frown. "Best cases. Truth. This ain't trip tah court though. I prepare as good as any femme. I know what tah bring. You lot." She reaches up and scratches at her chest before commenting further. "Well, it just so 'appens I scouted oot some 'o these places. Made sure they tha type I need. Tha type we need. Six places tah make deposit. It ain't me fault they full 'o peril...an spiders...an 'orror. Truth. Just tha...well, can't drop oof these things just anywhere if we not able tah destroy'm. Gotta be unique. Tough tah get to. Special." she adopts a wide smile and tilts her head to the side. "Loike...this grooooooup."
