Prelude to a Vision

The rather plump elven woman that Yelrona met the other day is /eating lots of food/. THis is probably why she's, you know, got the shape she does. She is just now working on her desert of pie.

Yelrona comes down from the balcony, yawning prodigiously, and opens the cupboards where guests of the Pub can keep personal food items. She hops up onto a chair and withdraws a small jar tight-packed with brownish dried leaves from a high shelf, and transfers a pinch into a mug, which she fills with a ladle-full of hot water from a pot by the fire. She stumbles into the main room and her eyes widen when she sees Sandy, the rather terrifying elven woman from the maternity store. Her eyes dart to the nearest exit and she tenses before taking a centering breath and joining her. "Good evening! The pie is quite good today, I think."

It's not JUST a maternity store, but it does have maternity clothes. The ALtheans insisted.

Sandy eyes Yelrona, then grunts a greeting pleasently. "The pie is fine," she tells her. "This is my second one."

Yelrona nods. "That actually sounds pretty good," she muses, and orders a slice for herself as well, which she puts on her tab. As the pie arrives she sniffs the mug approvingly and sips the resulting steeped liquid. Her eyes widen in pleasure, and still wider as she swallows a mouthful of pie. "Mm. Lovely. I wanted to thank you again for your help the other day. You saved me days, perhaps weeks, of wading through medical ledgers."

"Ehhh," says Sandy, "It was the last I could do, I guess. I did meet him, even if it wasn't in the circumstances you imagines." IT could've been so much worse, anyway.

Yelrona shrugs. "It was reality. And in retrospect, it was also funny," she observes. "The Luckbringers teach it's important to recognize Tarien's humor, even when we're the butt of the joke. Perhaps especially then."

"That's the right of it, I suppose," grunts Sandy with annoyance. She wrinkes her nose and then digs back into her pie. She is very happy to eat it, and indeed, seems to have eaten a lot already.

Yelrona tilts her head to one side to regard Sandy. "Is something wrong? You seem... annoyed."

"Just remebering a few jokes I've been the butt of, " answres Sandy, making a face again.

Yelrona smiles at that, takes another bite of pie and a sip of tea. "Anything in particular you're thinking of?" she asks, conversationally.

"Oh," says Sandy with a snort, "Like I'm going to randomly share stories of my own humiliation?" She pointsa finger at her, a smile tugging at her lips.

Yelrona shrugs. "You're the one who brought it up," she points out with a grin. "I'm told that confession is good for the soul... though I'll admit, I've never tried it myself."

"Then try it!" Sandy points a finger at her. "You first!"

Yelrona sighs. "I suppose I ought to have anticipated that. I suspect my stories won't be too interesting, compared to yours, but... let's see." She raises her eyes to the roof pensively, sipping from her tea...

In the meantime, sandy has another piece of pie becasue she's clearly not had enough already!

"When I was a child of fifty or so," Rona begins, "Mother tried to teach me herbalism. It was an important skill in the Temple, or at least important to her. She spent _hours_ having me memorize the names of different leaves, tubers, roots, stems, flowers. I *hated* it... bored me to tears. So when she gave me an exam, I... well, I cheated. I snuck into her desk, found her texts, looked up the items she gave me. She was so pleased!" Rona shrugs. "So pleased, in fact, that a few years later she assigned me the task of preparing one of the oils the healers use. Which I did. And of course I screwed it up... confused redfire leaf with redroot. Four patients developed rashes all over their bodies, confused everyone for months before they finally figured out I was responsible. I... well, it was complicated, but basically I ran away, I was so embarrassed."

She looks up with a wry grin. "Want to guess what herb-patch I chose to hide in?"

Sandy bursts out laughing. "Of /course/," she says, amused. "I imagine that was a bit of Tarien's 'justice', of course, yes." She as a bit of her pie. "I was randomly married off by a bloody paladin because of an off-handed comment SOMEONE made."

Yelrona laughs as well, then blinks. "Married off -- you mean, unwillingly?" she says, horrified. "Why?!?"

"He misunderstood something. Turns out the marriage, while technically official, kind of wound up working out," says Sandy, amused. "So, there you have it. A misunderustanding can actually work out in your favor sometimes."

Yelrona chuckles. "Indeed it can. You're happy together, then?"

"Happy...ish?" says SAndy, waving her hand back and forth.

Yelrona frowns. "This is none of my business, of course... and I've never had a serious relationship, so I'm hardly one to offer advice... but is 'happyish' enough?"

"It is," says Sandy, firly, "Nothing is perfect. YOu're never going to be one hundred percent happy. There's always going to be problems, struggles, arguments, angers, demons running in the streets, and morons. You know, that sort of problem." She waves her hand, "But I care for her and she cares for me. That's enough."

Yelrona nods, a little surprised by the spouse's gender, but not exceptionally so. "Excellent! I'm happy for both of you, then. Tell me about her?"

"Myrana Jn'rajh," says Sandy, giving her name. "She's... the owner of the Ox-Strength place down the ways," she gestures with her thumb in a southerly direction.

Yelrona laughs. "I've heard about it often, though I've never been. It has quite a reputation in Alexandria... or at least its drinks do!"

"They're /horrible/," agrees Sandy with a wince.

"Yes, that's the reputation... and no small part of the reason I've never been there," Rona confirms with a chuckle. "Still, their clientele seem to like it. 'The kind of thing you like, if you like that kind of thing,' as Kalniss used to say."

"Well, yeah. Of course they do," says Sandy, "They're all horrible people, myself included." She gestures at her chest with her thumb.

Yelrona raises an eyebrow. "You don't seem that horrible to me. But if you like the Ox-Strength, what brings you here tonight?"

"She's out. Which means better pie is here," explains Sandy, solemnly, as she taps her fork against the side.

Yelrona laughs. "There's no denying the redemptive power of pie. But are you suggesting that the pie at the Ox-Strength is better when Myrana is in? Because that would be a reason to visit, for sure."

"...Myrana's pies are /excellent/," agrees Sandy, "When she makes them, n any case." She sniffs.

"So when does she return from... wherever she is?"

"Oh, gosh. I don't even know where she is right now. Probably looting my clothing supply again," grumbles Sandy.

Yelrona regards Sandy's clothes, then shrugs. "There are advantages to being able to share clothes with a spouse, I suppose." She finishes her pie and slides the empty plate to one side, glancing around the room as she sips the dregs of her tea carefully.

"Share clothes? I assure you, we don't dress THAT alike. She's much more...petticoats and embroidery than I am." She clears her throat, then has another bite of pie. "But I meant she loots the deliveries."

"Ah! Clothing supply for the store," Rona corrects herself. "I understand." She glances up at the vision in white as he enters, raises her by-now-empty mug in greeting, and looks forlorly into the bottom of the mug. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I'm off to get a refill," she explains as she hops off the stool and moves off into a back room."

There's a certain, terrifying odor that preceedes Myrana Jn'Rajh by a good couple feet. When she comes up to the place where Sandy and Yelrona are seated, it smells morer than a little like a chimmney-sweep that fell down a charnel-pit to hell has come in through the door. She takes a seat and there's a little POFF of soot poofing off her person, smudged on her white face and utterly ruining the bottle-green silk dress she's wearing. The bustle looks like it got chewed on by a grate.

"Ice tea," she rasps. "Khhaff."

The barmaid Janie, brings a tall glass with ice cubes and a pitcher of iced tea and sets them before the sooty half-sil. She tells the young human, "Cook's made up some lamb stew tonight and spiced rice, too." The wizard says, "Sounds good, Janie, and a pitcher of ale, too?" She nods and returns into the kitchen. The ermine curls up on the table.

...and then there's MYRANA. Sandy glares at her a moment, then says, "...speak of the infernal woman and she appears. Hey, Myrana. You look like you had a run in with a farting Sith-Makar! Don't tell me you spent the evening with Svarhsan again and he made his famous chili." She is beung sarcastic, of course.

Myrana picks up the pitcher and pours herself a glass. "I blew up the still," she says after taking a big, greedy gulp. She sets the glass down and shrugs out of her close-buttoned jacket and drops it on the floor next to her stool in a second cloud of soot. The blouse she wears underneath it is white except at the collar where the supposed ball of flame scorched the neatly tucked cotton. "Do you happen to know where I might find more copper wiring?"

"Y..you...blew up the STILL?!" Sandy's voice rises. "But.. I helped you put that thing together! How did you.. hhow did you blow it up?" She's up a couple of octavtes, of course.

Yelrona returns from the other room with a refreshed steaming, fragrant mug, startled by the presence of a sooty half-elf alongside Sandy. She approaches just in time to overhear Sandy's greeting and the subsequent explanation. She smiles politely as she reclaims her seat, deciding it was best to assume that Sandy's wife was as terrifying as she was. "You must be Myrana... Sandy was just telling me about you. Your pie comes especially well-recommended..." she trails off as it becomes clear they are two caught up in the argument about the still to notice her, and decides that is perhaps for the best.

Myrana has fished a clean hankie from somewhere and is scrubbing her face. "Well somebody snuck up behind me and I was startled so-- oh, hello miss," she says, looking up from the now sooty handkerchief. "Have we met?"

"Nope, you haven't met yet. Yelrona came to ALexandria looking for her dad, who I met about ten years ago. I broke his nose when he tried to get in my pants," she explains to Myrana, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm now that she's closer. She also offers her a piece of pie.

Myrana starts coughing at the explanation.

Janie brings Ranik's order to his table and accepts his coin in return. He picks out a few chunks of meat from the stew and sets them before the small animal, who wastes no time in tucking in. Ranik downs a mug of ale and looks with curiosity at the ladies, but although he seemed to have been about to speak, does not.

Yelrona is about to answer Myrana's question when Sandy provides a summary which, while perhaps not emphasized the way she would prefer, is substantially accurate. "Which is still better than not knowing if he was alive or dead," she adds definitively. "Anyway, it's nice to meet you. Who was sneaking up behind you?" she asks curiously, wondering if whoever it was survived the experience.

"Him?" says Sandy, nodding towards Ranik. he's over there and looking at them, and he doesn't have a mark on him. She's just blaming him on genral principle, perhaps.

At being referred to so directly, the unmarked young man practically chokes on his ale, then recovering himself says, "Never me, Your Ladyship. I am no sneak, even were I to try it."

"HH!" Myra coughs, sputters, and eventually regains her composure. "Wh- no! No of course! Of course that's entirely better," she says, a little flustered and giving Sandy a LOOK. "Sandy's pants a-are very well-made, I'm sure." Did that really go over her head? Its possible. "Why anyone would want bespoke trousers that weren't made for them though is entirely beyond me. Huh?" She looks over her shoulder at Ranik, and then purses her lips. "No; look he's got clean clothes on of course it wasn't him. That's mister Ranik, isn't it?"

"He thought they'd hug his hips nicely," says Sandy, keeping a straight face.

Myrana looks at Sandy, then on at Yelrona. "...Your father must have a very interesting physique," she says, not knowing how to address the subject of THAT BOOTY appropriately.

Yelrona turns to the white-garbed wizard at Sandy's accusation, puzzled. "That..." she starts, then subsides as the young man steps up in his own defense. "Well, you certainly aren't dressed for it," she observes wryly to Ranik, pointedly ignoring the talk about her father's physique and Sandy's pants. "How do you keep your clothes so white?"

Ranik can't stifle a sudden laugh, then half-rises with a bow and says, "Ranik, indeed". Then to Yelrona he winks, "Well, I /am/ a wizard. Laundry is an easy matter." He then resumes his seat.

Nodding solemnly, Sandy says to Myrana, "Very interesting, actually, but kind of... strange. FOr an elf, anyway." She pats Myrana's hand, then eyes Ranik for a long moment before rolling her eyes.

Myra pauses, then seems to stiffen up and sit up a whole inch taller than she was before. "I didn't mean your physique is interesting!" She tells her wife, hurriedly. "Er--!! I mean, not that it isn't!" Oh god. She realizes she has turned her shovel downwards and tastes boot. "I-- OH, PIE." And she hurriedly shovels in a forkful, sweating.

"I suppose," Rona allows at Ranik's explanation. "Probably easier on the clothes than washing them all the time, also." It also seems like rather a waste of magic, from her perspective, but then again she's not a wizard, and she certainly knew more ostentatious mages back home. "Perhaps you could offer a similar service to the lady?" she prompts, indicating the sooty half-elf currently shoveling pie into her mouth, whose verbal flailing she politely fails to notice... mostly.

"NRF!" Myrana says something through a mouthful of pie.

Ranik looks at Myrana, then back to Yelrona, the to Myrana again. He says, "Certainly, if you..." he nods to Myrana, "wish it?"

"Never change,"is what Sandy says after observing Myrana for a moment. Then she kisses her cheek.

Myrana turns a very interesting shade and then just sort of hunches in to hide in utter embarrassment behind the pitcher of ice tea.

Yelrona smiles at the romantic gesture, then grins at Myrana's response. "If she never changes, then she'll _definitely_ want the magic laundry service."

Ranik says, "Well, as you wish." then turns back to his food,

"I think she'll e fine," says Sandy to Ranik, casually, "I'll take care of her. Thank you, thoiugh." NO ONE TOUCHES MY WIFE's CLOTHES BUT ME. Or something.

Myrana mumbles something from behind the pitcher and then sits up, coughing and shaking her head. THAT NEVER HAPPENED. She glares at the room in general to reassert her composure, then pours herself another glass. This time less urgently. "It was just Finneous, he should recover." As to who snuck up on her. "So you're looking for your father, miss Yelrona?"

Yelrona shrugs and drops the subject of laundry, having no desire to challenge an easily excitable sorceress on the matter of her wife's dirty clothes, however foul they might smell. "I am," she admits, hoping Sandy won't take the opportunity to say anything vulgar. "He's an adventurer, so long trips were not uncommon, but, well, he's been missing a few decades, which seems excessive. I don't know where he is now, but as Sandy mentioned, he was in Alexandros a decade or two ago, which is a place to start looking at least."

Ranik perks up again, "Have you any object that was his?"

"Figures it'd be that moron," grumps Sandy to Myrana. "I wish you could get rid of him." She makes a face, then has another piec of pie. She offers one more to Myrana as well. She's on her second pie at this point at least.

"I can't, not without losing the business," says Myra quietly to Sandy, not wanting to interrupt between Ranik and Yelrona. She tucks into the second piece of pie, stomach growling. "It was in Mister Oxley's Will."

Yelrona tilts her head to one side at the question. "Well, this blade was originally his, but he hadn't used it since my fifties," she explains, indicating the rapier at her hip, only mildly distracted by the couple's astonishing capacity for pie-consumption, if not their conversation.

Ranik rubs his chin in deep thought for a moment as he looks at the rapier. He says, "Although it is beyond my own abilities, I know of a spell by which a caster may learn the lore and legends surrounding a particular object. Perhaps, your father's rapier may by such means yield news to help in your quest."

"Gods damn will," says Sandy, "Doesn't it have an expiration date? He certainly did." She's grumbling under her breath at Myrana, not interrpting Ranik and Yelrona for the moment.

Myrana swallows the piece of pie and having aqquired a cup of thick hot khal from the passing waitress now that the ice tea has vanished from the pitcher, washes it all down. "Nk- do you mean Vision?" she asks between sips.

Yelrona nods enthusiastically. "That makes sense. Do you know anyone capable of casting such a spell?" Though the question is primarily directed to Ranik, Yelrona includes Sandy and Myrana in its scope as well, especially when Myrana seems familiar with it.

GAME: Ranik rolls spellcraft: (7)+12: 19

Ranik nods, "Yep, that's the one. I believe the Archmage Cesran or others at the Society for Progressive Arcanists could perform that spell.

Myrana hoods her eyes and sips her hot brew, thoughtful.

Giving Myrana a slight elbow, Sandy says, "Well. Maybe someone can volunteer to help." Elbow. Elbow. Elbow.

Myrana ows, and puts the hot drink down, rubbing at her poor abused arm. "Its...possible that I could cast that for you, if you like," she says, slowly. "But you'd maybe be better off asking mister Cesran, or mister Mikilos."

Yelrona nods, making a mental note to check out the Society. Then she notices Sandy's subtle hints to her thoughtful spouse. "Thank you for the pointer," she says to Ranik, and turns to Myrana, unsure how to respond. She looks over the dirty half-elf, trying to understand the reasons for her reluctance before putting her own foot in her mouth.

GAME: Yelrona rolls sense motive: (13)+8: 21

Myrana pages: Myrana is afraid that the spell might be dangerous to Yelrona in some way is the impression you get

Myrana pushes her bangs out of her face, looking distinctly uncomfortble. "I've just had mixed, uh, success," she says. "If I cast it the spell will show you -something-, but it might not be very useful." She finishes the mug and steps down from the chair. "I should go take a bath."

"It can wait. If you decide to take her up on it, thoiugh, there's always the Ox-Strength. And yes, you should go take a bath. I'll bring some fresh clothes over from one of my shipments because I know you'll loot it sooner or later." She glares half-heartedly at Myrana.

Yelrona nods, torn between the urge to insist they cast it right away and the desire not to piss these women off. Ultimately the decision is made thanks to elven patience to wait. "It can indeed wait," she agrees as she gathers up her mug and plate. "It's been a pleasure meeting you both," she nods to Ranik and Myrana, "and seeing you again, but I ought to get moving... I have a show to do at the Temple. Perhaps I'll see some of you there!" Some more pleasantries and she's scampering off.

Ranik finishes his late dinner and takes another mug of ale. He returns the spellbook, which he had never opened, back to his shoulder bag and takes up the ermine and his quarterstaff. With a bow to the ladies, he says, "I bid you all a good night, but I think I'll find somewhere a bit more solitary to study for tomorrow's spells. Good luck to you all."