Toll The Yuletide Carol

Theater District - Heavy Snows - Late Evening (900 PM)

The theater district is filled with many of the students of the Bardic College, singing festivity songs in practice for the start of the Yule season. It's crowded, and a goblin instructor stands before the group waving his little wand,and tapping it against his portable podium. He goes on about how the sopranos need to be louder, and his annoyance with giggling is near reaching a peak until a laugh comes from behind the man, a small elf drawing attention to herself.

That would be Patch, her grin wide as she hops off her folding seat, her leather bound book out as she'd been taking notes. "It's sounding good, don't go picking where it's not needed." Patch muses to the man, winking. "Professor Foxly, you once told me that to know your song is to know your audience." she teases as she treads a bit of snow, puffing into her hands to keep them warm. "This isn't about perfection. It's about spirit, and fun. Rejoicing, and letting loose. It's not a church!"

Diggle Foxly rolls his eyes, waving off Patch with a huff. "I did say that, didn't I?" a bit of a warmth to the tone as he smacks his lips, and rethinks his approach. "See, I told you you'd like working for me. It keeps me remembering the point of the piece!" two hands suddenly waving before himself at the group. "Oh, go take a break! There is cocoa and snacks at the college entrance." dismissing them to leave Patch and him standing alone. "Did you think about my proposal, Ms. Galakir?" the man knowing her true name.

A cloaked and daggered - well, more glaived - figure slowly approaches the stage, and then they tilt their head. The thick cloak hung over their shoulder, with a scarf wrapped about their face; even their fingers were covered in small strips of cloth. Not to mention he carried an orb shaped lantern, hanging off their front.

The dark and mysterious figure observes.

It would have worked well as a disguise for some, but Aelwyn's upright horns with their bright red ribbons and his ornate glaive were hard to mistake for anything but.

"A mysterious cloaked figure has arrived!" Patch says with some play, grinning as she tries to peek and see who it is. "The Yule Rush isn't starting yet." a glance then cast to Diggle.

"We'll talk about it in the office on Veriday." Patch finally answers, offering the man her hand. "I already accepted the new position. So, let's just relax for the week's end." she muses and turns to look at the Campus.

Diggle grunts and nods, scuffing a boot. "Alright, alright. Well, I am going to take my break. I'll see you in a bit." waving Patch off and going to mingle with the students.

The 'stranger' waits for the conversation to be over, peering with his orange slit pupils, until the pair separate. Slowly, he then begins to make his way over, glaive on his shoulder. "A cloaked and chained figure," The familiar sibilant voice responds, sliding towards. "Come to steal her away, leave her bereft of the warmth."

A slow tilt of his head, as he pulls his cloak open; chest covered in loose wrapping. "At least this one hopes she still carries some in this white land; or another must be found instead."

Patch huffs a laugh as Aelwyn's voice comes from that cloaked specter. "It's quickly draining, but that's why there are breaks." she muses, snapping her book shut, and turning to watch the Makari with a clearly curious glance. "Like a ghost, come to swoop in and carry me off? I don't know. Usually those tales end in torture, and rebirth of spirit, and I am not in the mood for one of them."

"Is the cold so bad that you hide most all the scales from snow?" Patch asks, stepping closer to inspect the wrappings.

Aelwyn lets out a rumble, as he moves to try and wrap his cloak around Patch and pull her closer towards him. "She thinks this one is about to torture her?" He leans in closer and audibly clicks his teeth near her ears. "At the very least, give an impression this one has more imagination than that. There are far greater heights to ascend than that."

The draconian tilts his head back, letting the wrappings be investigated. Look like some sort of scavenged cloth he has loosely wrapped around himself - most likely he wouldn't know how to properly put on anything over his chest, either way. "The skies can be cruel and unjust." The Dragoon responds. "Does she wish to find a more warm place, or will Bard continue to fight the attempts to warm the cool scales?"

Patch yelps in surprise, but is mostly all laughs as Aelwyn take his snatch and hug. "I meant more like the tales of being a fuddy-duddy!" giving the Makari a hug, and placing a hand upon his chest. "You're cold! You sure it's me who needs the warmth?" she muses. "I think you'd about leech me dry if I attempted. Ya know. Being bigger and all." she points out before withdrawing with a grin. "I haven't seen you in a good while, Crimson Dragoon. How has work been?" content to catchup a bit despite the fat flakes that fall. "I could go for a drink, but I only have about an hour before Professor Foxly will want one more attempt for the night."

Speaking of Yuletide cheer. He's heard before he's seen. His deep voice upraised in a bright and merry tune as he trundles his way through the snow. "Soooo raise yer tankards full o' brew, bust an orcish head or two, axes high me hearty crew, it's time for Yule agaiiiin!" Dirk rounds the bend, singing his merry heart out. He's not very good of course, but he's putting his all into the carol. Squinting through the falling snow, he spies familiar faces, and he turns his steps that way. "Aelwyn! Peace on yer nest, my friend! An' Patch too!" Approaching thee two, he reaches up to clap Aelwyn's shoulder, and reaches out to deliver one (1) Dwarf Hug to Patch. "What're you two doin' out in such cold? Surely there's got tae be a Yule party somewhere ye might be crashin', eh? Be a damn sight warmer, fer certain, an' probably has booze as well! Hah!"

"And what did Bard think this one was trying to do? Her heat is far more interesting upon these scales." Aelwyn asks with a tilt his head, before knocking his covered snout towards Patch and her ears. Attempted gnawing. He covers himself quickly when she pulls away, giving the snowy ground a thwap with his bound tail. "Hmmh, perhaps better question should be how is her work. She seems to have grown the steps since the last time." The draconian points out. "She is a hard sight to catch; a brief and every fleeting."

As Dirk appears, he bows his head. Which kind of gets jostled from the slap on his cloaked shoulder. "Dwarf, nestful of peace." He greets back. "That is what this one attempted to bargain for, but she holds a high price."

"More like two, but..." Patch starts, but a familiar singing and voice causes her to seek Dirk with a broad grin, that hug returned quickly as she again laughs as another friend emerges from the street. "Dirk! I didn't think I'd see you this soon after the, well, those damned demons." glad to catch up with the Khazad even on a chill night.

"I don't know about any festivities proper, but the Bardic College has cocoa, and snacks. I think some crisped rice treats, and some fudge that the confectionary class made." Patch offers to the two. "We'll be serving it all day as they fill up the festival lanterns with sand and candles." she explains. "I'm part of the campus decoration committee. An assistant, but how else do you expect me to earn coin outside adventuring?"

Dirk rumbles a deep laugh at Aelwyn. "Aye, peace can be a slippery lass, nay? But she's always worth the chase, says I." He turns his attention up to Patch, reaching up to tip back the brim of his tricorne. "Oh, are ye now? I do love me some crisped rice treats. An' fudge. An' cocoa. Dinnae suppose there's any left?" He looks hopeful. He's never one to turn down free sweets. "An' I imagine a talented bard like yeself could always sing for 'er supper. Ye'd do a damn sight better'n I could, I'll warrant!" He rumbles with laughter once again. "'course, if they throw enough tomatoes at me, I could always have a nice salad! Har!"

Aelwyn tilts his head at Patch then, the ribbons on his horns falling towards the other side. "Then let our steps takes us closer towards this promised warmth." The draconian suggests with a gesture of his glaive. "This light will only sustain this one so far," And by the light he means the literal fire he kept going on with the orb like lantern in front of him.

"I am rather fond of tomatoes. Stewed, dried. Pretty much every way." The bard replies to Dirk, grinning as Aelwyn speaks of the warmth. "There should be plenty left." turning to lead the two with her. "And your singing is just fine, Dirk. If I had to guess you have most of tenor range with some bass? A what, baritone?' she asks, making idle conversation as she leads them towards the gates and the promised refreshments.

"What of you Aelwyn? Do you sing, or just dance?" Patch teases of the makari dragoon.

"I could earn some playing, that's true, but I find that connections often are better payment than coin. Maybe not. We'll see." Patch jokes, the smell of sweets soon being caught wafting on the chill air, a promise of reprieve from the cold. Yes, there is a small crowd, and several tables with snacks and pots of warm drink being kept that way with an oil fueled chafing dish that's stirred.

Diggle Foxly is laughing off to one side, the group of about fifteen choir students that were practice caroling also taking their break here. Just people having simple holiday fun.

"No one mind guests, it's half the fun. Plus volunteers to fill bags will get a free breakfast wrap tomorrow." Patch muses, motioning to the tables where drinks are poured, and snacks sit in piles.

It's just as well that the cold has brightened the old snowbeard's cheeks to a bright rosy red. He can't help but blush at Patch's estimation of his singing voice. "Aww... that's kind of ye to say, lassie," he says as he trundles along with her and Aelwyn. "Aye, I'm a low baritone. Most dwarves are--at least, those of us who aren't a bass, anyway." He perks up as they approach the aforementioned refreshments. He rubs his hands eagerly as he goes to avail himself of a plate full of delicious treats and a mug of hot cocoa.

"Well... I'm still workin' on gettin' me cabin fixed back up. Those bastard lycans really done a number on it. Not tae mention the fire itself. But... it could've been much worse. I was afraid they'd burn the whole place to the ground, shred up me tools, an' slaughter poor Thistle." He picks up a square of fudge and crams it whole into his bearded maw. "ROMF! Mmh! Good fudge!"

He chews and swallows with a grin. "But nay. They tossed me stuff about. Probably lookin' fer the totem. So I'm not homeless after all, an' that's worth some Yuletide cheer, nay?" He lifts his steaming mug to his friends. "Merry Yule, the pair of ye!" he booms happily, before throwing back a swallow. But Dirk, that's not icy cold beer, that's steaming hot cocoa! "GWAAGH! HOT!"

Aelwyn turns his head towards the promised warm cocoa, but his concentration is broken at the question. "Maybe one of these days Bard will find out," The Dragoon teases right back, thwipping his tail at her heels. As he approaches the table, his singular focus in on the hot cocoa, which he takes in his hand. And instead of drinking it, it disappears under his cloak. "Even as much as this one understands, perhaps Dwarf is better leave the devouring of burning heat to the one's of the Dragon." He rumbles in amusement.

Patch snorts a laugh, her eyes fixated on the two as she takes up a cup of cocoa. "I'm sorry, Master Dirk. I should of warned you. It's a wee bit hot." her tone muted at the Khazad's boisterous response.

Some glances dart their way, Diggle's the most substantial. It's at Dirk's tale of lycanthropes and the attack on his home. Oh, the old goblinoid seems to want to join the conversation, but no. He leaves it for the young.

"I'm sorry about all of that, Dirk." Patch finally gets out. "I'd been causing mischief in the dark, and it eventually caught up to us." she says with a bit of a drop in her tone, flicking a glance to Aelwyn. "Some work of mine exploded in my face. Twice. I can't believe we let that damned false prophet pass through our hands too. It might of been another totem." those memories not fond, but she's still fighting the fight. "At least we saved those who were fooled." pausing and laughing a she looks away. "Oh, shit. I haven't told you about all that, have I Aelwyn?"

Dirk is fortunately surrounded by plenty of ice. He scoops up a handful of snow and crams it into his mouth to cool the burn. He sighs happily, brushing stray snow out of his beard. He takes a smaller, more careful sip. "Ahh... that is good cocoa. When it isn't burnin' the skin off me gizzard," he says with a sheepish grin. He chompfs down another square of fudge, before moving on to the crispy rice treats. He grins a bit at Aelwyn, reaching up to tap the side of his nose. "Well, we'll just have tae see about that won't we? Come the summertime, when we have the next big chili cookoff between the khazad an' the gobbers, you'll think eatin' fire!"

He munches a bite of delicious rice treat, looking back over to Patch. He shakes his head with a warm smile. "Aww, it wasn't you, lass," he says. "I've had it in fer that bastard Zalgiman fer some time, now. Our paths just happened tae converge, that's all. An' I'm glad o' the company fer this'un. But please, let's have yer tale, eh? I'll never turn down one o' yer stories."

"Hmmh, this one has eaten fire. A bit of chili will not be a determent, Dwarf." The draconian rumbles, before he finally sneaks the cocoa out and takes deep swigs from it. A bit of steam flows from his nostrils. As far as the rest of conversation goes, he is content enough to simply listen in; and enjoy the last of his cocoa.

The fudge is just what you'd expect of people whom put their soul into the art of cooking. Vaire's (Ceinara) followers trying to perfect their creations to show off the holidays. The rice treats even have sprinkles of crushed candy peppermint. It's the time to show off, and the Bardic College tries not to disappoint, even with just club activities. Diggle Foxly is giving Patch the 'glare' from where he now rests, sipping his drink.

Patch grins, nodding to Dirk's offer and moving to sit upon one of the benches near the gate, offering the others to join about. There are folding seats, and enough for either. They even have a tail hole for the Makari. Comfort being on the minds of the students. "I know, Dirk." she concedes to some of the Khazad's talk of Zalgiman. "I didn't expect us to meet the vampire Kol, either." she notes.

"So, about that story? I had this dumb idea. It was like shooting an arrow in the dark, but I thought it worth looking into." Patch starts. "I thought the lost statue might be found if we tracked down some of the gossips and rumors of people whom had exceptional luck, or a change of fate." she reasons, offering her line of thought, and shrugging. "I found a priest whom was using demons disguised as Devas, leading people into the dream realm, and.... you can guess the rest." she ends it quickly, the tone somber. "Lady Verna, and Cor'lana had been with me. I wasn't stupid enough to go alone, but damn. Dirk, it was a mess."

Dirk polishes off the last of his treats and sets his empty plate aside. He digs into his hip satchel for his pipe and tobacco pouch, listening to Patch as he fills the bowl, tamps it, and strikes a match to light the tobacco. The habit does more than just satisfy the craving for the leaf--holding a bowl of burning embers is good for keeping the hands warm. He idly sends little puffs of sweet cherry smoke drifting into the snow as he takes in the tale she tells. "Aye, the dreamworld is a funny thing, innit?" he says, shaking his head with a soft sigh. "Dreams... they make perfect sense while we're havin' 'em. It's only when we wake when we realize just how completely batshit crackers they are. But glad I am that Verna an' Cor'lana were there tae back ye up. Surely does sound like a right mess.

Aelwyn finishes up his cup, tilting his head at Patch. Without a word, he moves to pat Patch on her shoulder. "It is good Bard is safe." The Dragoon says, then he moves to bow his head towards the other two. "Bard, Dwarf. This one shall find more warmth. Peaces on their nests," The draconian says, then moves on to walk back into the cold snow, in hunt for that heat that is missing in this weather.

Patch shivers a bit in her seat, raising a hand to try and catch Aelwyn's attention as he departs, sighing and looking away. "Sometimes I often wonder if talking about it in front of some is too much?" she asks of Dirk, finally sipping her drink and taking a small moment to think before speaking again. "I can imagine, I was asked to follow Zalgiman by an inquistor named Vaughn. So, it's not like I came into this the normal way. See, Vaughn got busy a while back, chasing other matters, and I just kept researching until I ran into you all." she admits with a shrug. "I pick at things." "As for Thistle? That's great news. I'd be upset if something happened to Peanut, so I'm glad no lasting damages occurred." her words kind, but a bit distant while she's also in thought. "Now I've realized how lucky I've been, and need to rely on the others a little bit more."

Dirk nods his head, the bowl of his pipe glowing hotly as he pulls at it. He puffs a couple artful smoke rings, offering Patch a warm smile. "Well... ye know ye can always rely on me, lassie," he says. "Speakin' of... once I get the shingles on me cabin replaced, I'd love tae make ye dinner." He chuckles softly. "An' no, it wouldn't just be beer. I'm thinkin' a good, proper dwarven meal. Beef an' barley soup, served up in a crusty bread bowl, topped wi' bubbly melted cheese."

And so the evening goes, with pleasant company and Yuletide cheer in abundance. Despite all that's happened within the last few weeks, it'll take more than the Forces of Evil to keep the Yule spirit down.