Waltzing Chartle-Clank-Hamma-Sprokiee

Log Info

• Title: Waltzing Chartle-Clank-Hamma-Sprokiee
• Emitter: Cryosanthia
• Characters: Jinks
• Place: A07: Fernwood Pub
• Time: Saturday, October 29, 2022, 10:03 PM
• Summary: Jinks is having a meal in the Fernwood while all hell breaks loose outside in the streets. The staff discuss going to give aid, deciding better hands will handle it, when they are interrupted with a disaster of their own. A dire Jackelope starts rampaging in the dining area. It is swiftly brough under control by the owner, an orange haired gnome with an wilderness vibe. She invites herself to Jinks table and they talk, while the servers try to earn tips by their own little show. Some misunderstanding prompts Jinks to leave while the gnomid, Ginny Chortle-Clank-Hammer-Sproket, ponders the encounter.

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-<* A07: Fernwood Pub *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

The common room of the Fernwood Pub dominates the inn, spacious and airy because of the high, vaulted ceiling. Ornately carved beams of dark, polished wood form a lattice overhead, supporting the arched roof two storeys above the floor. To the right of the double-door entry is a spiral staircase, winding upwards to a balcony that rings and overlooks the main area. Large windows at this level grant an excellent view of the river to the west and colorful market stalls to the north and east. An air of coziness is salvaged by keeping the pub dimly lit; parchment-shrouded mana lanterns hang at intervals from the base of the balcony, nestled amongst lush, magically propagated ivy and ferns that grow over this false demi-ceiling and the struts that support it.

The bar is sleek and simple, comprised of meticulously polished black lacquer. Tables are set under the darker niches formed by the balcony floor as well as on the balcony itself. A few are deliberately sized to accommodate halflings and gnomes, but the majority are meant for human-sized individuals. A large common table is on the main floor, set before a semi-circular stage situated against the western wall. Beside it, with pipes mounted upon the wall and running up past the balcony and almost to the ceiling, is a refurbished pipe organ made to look like the one lost when the Fernwood was destroyed during the Merkabah Siege.

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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  Appearing  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Jinks        3'4"     39 Lb      Gnome             Male      A gnomish fellow in fancy garb and jewelry.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  NPCs of Note  =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ginny Sheila                     Gnome             Female    A tanned, orange haired outdoorsy type, with Jackelope.
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-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-  As the GM  -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Ashes        5'11"    177 Lb     Hobgoblin         Female    A somber arvec in grey clothes with a skull face.    
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It's a slow night in the Fernwood. Some commotion outside drew the patrons first to the windows, then out the doors. Enough has happened her they know when to hold 'em, and when to flee. The braver ones, adventuring sorts, may even have gotten involved. Especially once the streets are lit with flickering flames and cries of 'demon!' are heard.

This leaves the servers, Miri and Kaeryn, clearing tables and conversing.

"I should go help, shouldn't I?"

"Nope Kae, you stay right here. You're on shift and your sparky magic isn't going to put out fires."

Bill, the bartender throws in his two cents as he swabs the bar, "You hate getting ketchup on your uniform, imagine blood."

"I bleed!" Kaelyn protests.

"Really? I thought that was one of the many things elves didn't do, like breathe."

"I breathe! And I'm only half-elf."

"So maybe it's only half of you that needs to breathe."

Jinks doesn't do this sort of thing much at all anymore. Taverns, that is. Pubs, inns, and roadhouses can have their place in a pinch. Hostelries and bars are right out. Especially dive bars-- and he used to love a good slum.

The gnome still needed to eat, though, and the walk from the college to the Fernwood was much more reasonable than that to the estate grounds way up on the mountainside. And he was already feeling faint when he noticed the twisting in his stomach and dull pain behind his eyes.

So, here he was. Haunting one of the dark alcoves with a table sized for the smaller races wondering if he should brave finishing his carrots and potatos after all but inhaling the braised pheasant and two tall flutes of an especially savoury red wine.

"You okay there hun?" Miri, the human server swings by the dark alcolve, peering in at the gnome and his two flutes of wine. "More to drink?"

The half-elf has taken to holding up the wall beside the bar, trying out different figurehead poses.

There's a crash from upstairs, followed by a "No'wit!" Another crash, and a shout, "Come back ya daft Rabey yer too big!"

A shadow passes over, blocking out the chandliers of the ceiling, followed by a crash that crushes tables as something horse-sized and horny lands in the middle of the room with the elegance of a flying elephant.

Hurried footsteps follow.

Jinks stops tapping his fork for a moment, brushing his loose hair back behind his ear to look up at the server and offer a smile that might melt the heart of a white wyrm. His mouth opens to offer reply but he's left quiet and glancing at the underside of the balcony overhead as the chaos ensues.

Black-on-black eyes roll to follow the sound and observe the massive thing come crashing down. His goatee flares as his mouth forms a smirk.

"More wine, please, and the dessert tray." He spears a roasted carrot and lifts it up into his mouth.

"Ahhh! Ow!" Miri flinches, jumping back and banging her head on the low rafter of the 'small people' alcove's ceiling. She grunts and moves away, rubbing her hair and nodding. "Okay."

The thing, the source of the chaos, at first glance seems to be a very hairy elk. It has the antlers, the long face, the heavy body with the ungainly limbs, no tail to speak of. It's the hop that shatters the first impression, and the second glance would clarify the eyes are much to large, the back legs strangely bent and powerful. The hair is fur, and scruffy and mangey at that.

The hop is towards the door, the beast's escape is ruined by the antlers catching on the walls. It is a giant, gaunt rabbit.

The running feet catch up, flying first along the upper hall then down the stairs. Short steps from the sound of them. "Stoppit! Stop! Ah doan want ta be paying for that walls" A small woman dashes towards the door, a gnome, with a large mane of orange hair and a long green shirt over green leggins and bare feet. "Stay'a'put thar!"

"... all the grace of Kongou," Jinks muses, still wearing the smirk. He pierces the last two pieces of potato and makes quick work of both chewing and swallowing as he pushes the plate aside.

"Mmm, ah..?" The white-haired gnome sucks his teeth and half-turns out of his chair. "Do you require assistance? Or is all going to plan?"

Gnimble fingers begin to drum on the tabletop. The rings glitter and gleam, sparkling in sworls of gaseous shadow.

"S'awright. I got the cheeky hoppa." The woman says, grabbing a scruff of fur on the dire jackelope's foreleg and pulling herself up. She grabs the collar next, a dark leathery one with interesting runes, and closes her hand over an embossed badge. A quick twist and the beast shrinks until it's the size of a regular jackrabbit, dangling in her grip by the antlers.

With the creature controlled, the woman looks at Jinks, then approaches his table. "Hoy, good ta'meetchya." She shakes her rabbit, "'e knows e's supposed ta be small inside, but figgured how ta trick his colla. Thanks for the 'elp."

She nods her nose towards the wine, "ya want help with them?"

"If you like," Jinks offers with a shrug. He gestures at one of the properly-sized chairs with a hand and sets aside his empty glass. "Though this--" he drags a pinky around the glass' lip, conjuring a distant, high-pitched keen-- "is a full-flavored and savoury wine that goes best with game bird. The Fernwood has no shortage of aperitif if you've yet to eat; digestif if you have..." He tips his head towards the racks behind the bar.

The fancy little man looks the curious woman up and down, glancing, too, to her furry companion. He shifts to sit a little taller in his chair and tugs at his cuffs.

"Jinks," he offers by way of introduction. "Coyote laughs," he adds.

Miri returns with another flagon of wine and the desert tray. She glances at the wrecked table, and the now manageable jackelope sitting on Jinks' table.

"Ah'll shout tha damage, na worries." The orange haired gnomid tells the server, "Some carro's fer the bad boy 'ere and somea that a-peri-taffs and some good tucka, meanin' meat stew."

She rubs the jackelope's head, cooing, "put you in a stew one day."

She fixes Jinks with a stare, her features fine and suntunned, browning her skin enough she resembles a tree in autumn. Her leggings are well worn, with scratched sections that suggest armour goes on top. Her shirt is loose, clearly for comfort or sleeping so the front and tails hang down her thighs.

"Ginny, 'cause mah ma was a drinka, Shelia, 'cause mah da wasna all that imaginative, an' Chartle-Clank-Hamma-Sprokiee because tha weren't great on sharin'." She grins widely.

"The berry compote and sweet cream, please," Jinks asks after considering the offerings. He rolls his fingers, conjuring a flat elliptical platinum coin that clatters as i rolls over his rings. It comes to a stop pinched between thumb and the side of his curled pointer finger-- on offer for the server. "... and I'll have an aide from the college come and repair the damages tomorrow morning before opening; no reason to bill Ginny Shelia.

"It's customary to tip for a show. Could I buy you dinner?" He wonders of his fellow gnome, whisper-thin eyebrow quirking. "My per diem will cover it, easily."

Her eyes narrow a little as she susses out Jinks, until she makes a wry smile. "Long as it's fer tha show an' ya doan have ideas. Jess 'cause ah've got a rippa rabbo don't mean ah'm a root rat."

Followed by a smile, "don't mean ah'm not. So a gal's gotta ask, how galla is tha per dieam an' what's ya do ya fer, College man Jinks?"

The spinning coin holds the jackalope's attention more than hers. Ginny seems to be doing her own inspection, her eyes keep returning to the gnome's.

Miri nods, taking the coin, the order and heading back. There were other eyes on the platinum offering, Kaelyn, the bosomy half-elf has appeared and is leaning more than she needs to, her top impressively low and aimed at Jinks, "Need anything else? It's a slow night. I'll be right... on ... it."

"Just the show," Jinks assures with a nod and a faint smile. He turns the hand that had delivered the platinum coin and uses a thumb to indicate his wedding band: a rose-gold coyote encircled by the wings of a yellow-golden eagle. "Dalliances are well and truly behind me," he promises with an almost-grim finality.

"I fill my time now advising and doing field work for researchers are the city's bardic institution." He tries not to sound too bored revealing that information. "It pays well... but pales in comparisson to the rewards of high adventure."

A glance askance is offered the buxom half-sil and shakes his head. "Thank you, no, tallman."

"Well okaay." The half-sil purrs, rocking her rear in a way that sways her chest and threatens her clothes, clearly hoping some show will merit her a tip.

"Scat cat! Your billy bags'll flatten 'im shorta than a deaf adda." Ginny waves dismissively, laughing, sitting up as much as she's able. Kaeryn blinks in confusion, causing the gnomess to relent a little with her second rebuff, "Will call, when'ya wanted. Right now is some straight talka with me an' me new mate."

Ginny attention turns to Jinks, "are ya findin' many rackka tunes in that deep bush? It's where ah while ma days, chasin' the beasties."

A squint and a smile preface a quiet chuckle as Jinks shifts, crossing his arms and his legs wide beneath the table. He sucks at his teeth and tilts his head, giving Ginny a canted nod at her dealing with the flummoxed barmaid.

"I'm employed more in dealing with the Hymn. Which is how we refer to the song of creation. The Weave is part of it but far from the sum total." He takes a slow breath and hums a few bars, channeling a simpler form of inspiration most esoteric bards can muster after realizing the earliest portions of their potential. "... like that but on a grander scale."

The gnome sighs and uncrosses his arm, reaching out for his glass and taking a sip to savor briefly. "There are beasties, yes. Or warlocks, politicians, libraries, oubliettes, ruins, airships, trains, boats... everything really. It's quite the marvel it can be so abysmally boring."

The jackelope scratches an ear with a hind leg. Ginny aims his efforts off the table. He is a very skinny beast, and in places his fur is so thin his hide shows. It's rough and aged. He tears vigorously at one ear.

"Stoppit," Ginny puts her fingers in the way, holding the rabbit's foot so it flails in the air. She listens to the snippit of the hymn, head bobbing until the tune plays out. Her jackelope settles and she runs her hand over her ear, pushing her orange hair back.

Her hand has found a glass, and she takes a sip, then a second sip when Jinks says 'abysmally boring'. Her other hand finds the hair over her other ear. "Ah, cityfolk, na a Larriken like me stoked out in tha Woop Woop, back'o buggery. Ah seen some sights, but they's onny sights if ya not for lookin'."

She glances down at the wood grain of the table, looks up again, "How's you get them black on black eyes? Some royal dustup?"

"Academia has the habit of making the fantastic mundane, Ginny," Jinks laughs, shrugging at her observations. "Everything for a category, a category for everything. Classified and catalogued and metered on a schedule." He inspects his drink as he explains and then takes a full-mouthed draw that doesn't seem to hit his tongue before its past his gullet. His bone-weary sigh and frown makes the maestro look another decade or three older.

Then he's smiling easy again and the color flashes back into his cheeks. He shakes his head at her last question.

"No. Nothing so eventful... and it makes for poor dinner conversation." He returns to his drink, sipping again.

"The book'keepin'a'll kill ya. S'why I kep mine in that noggin'." The gnomess says, tapping at the side of her head. She has an intense gaze, similar to her old rabbit's, unrelenting and feral and cutting through the layers of civilization to see the raw world beneath. "Mebbe' ah'll ask ya latah, mebbe' ah won't."

"Ye gots a stricka look ta ya." She takes another sip of wine, strokes her jackelope's back, partly to pet him, partly to keep him put. "Like mah crittas, s'what ah do, bush wackin' and wrapin' up them beasties gotten themselves poked an' bleedin'."

She slumps back, sighing, "Ah lookit me, bein' a gallah goin' off on hoonin' about that backwood. You don't wanna hear about ol' Ginny sleepin' rough an that stars o'r'head. You're respectabby folk, six brekkies a day an' opera afor bed."

"Ah'm ya coyote laugh."

"Ow." Jinks says, his smile turning sad at her assessment. He blinks and looks down, reaching forward to set his glass back on the table. The gnome pauses and draws his thumb and forefinger down opposite sides of his goatee, his breath hitching. The bard winces again.

The fancy man stands and considers Ginny. His black eyes pleaed for a moment before he shakes his head.

"I need to get back to work," he explains as he regains his composure. Something clatters on the table; a second platinum piece conjured from thin air. "Enjoy the meal..."

Jinks turns and makes for the door, pushing his fingers back through either side of his loose, long hair. "'Respectable'..." he grumbles, shouldering through the door into the wet chill outside. "... Mulria's sideways smile."

She watches him leave, the door closing behind him. "Ah Ginny ya daft cunt ya chas'd 'em off an' e was a cutie."

The jackalope looks her way, she taps him on the nose, "O doan ya start, ah'm not soused enough fer you ta be talkin'." She tries though, draining her glass, and any of the liquor in the remaining ones, then waving at Kaeryn, "'ey billygoat, float me another tinny or three, tha rivas run dry."

The half-sil server obliges, coming over with a pitcher. "Please don't call me that." She eyes the platinum piece, "Is that for me?"

"Fer roofin' tha dinnah an' drinks, rest is yers ya great cute moony." Ginny replies, her accent and slang confusing the half-sil further.

"Are you sure you're speaking proper trade?" Kaeryn asks, only to be waved away.

In solitude, Ginny pours herself another drink, thoughtfully sipping at it and staring at her jackelope, "Well 'e's not full lost an' we know where's 'e kips, so mebbe'. Can't doll up but ah k'n show ah'm not a loon. Crep up careful like, suss 'em out."

Her meal arrives, she digs in, flicking carrots at the jackelope when she comes across them.

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