Social: The Tale of the Thirteen Dwarves
This scene was a small homage to several great works of fiction. A rather silly homage. (Starring: Kama'o and Sharna)
This domed ampitheatre is heated for the comfort of the patrons who attend the plays, musicals, operas and other performances held on the grand stage down in the bottom of the pit. Near the stage there are carefully cushioned chairs within an enclosure created by a low wall which separates the nobles--who can also sit in one of the large balconies near the stage--from the commoners, who have to make do with simple stone benches.
On a day like this, being inside is worth any amount of coin. Sharna and Kama'o are not the only ones who have had this idea, however--the theater is fairly packed. After paying for their tickets, Kama'o has managed to shove her way through the crowd (talons--always useful) and gain the balcony of the railing that separates the toffs from the street-urchins. As far as she's concerned, they built the railing just for her, and she happily climbs up to perch on it, putting her overlarge head above most of the crowd.
"This is nice, iiwa. Oh, and look, there is a man selling sausages. Why don't you go and get us some sausages? And...iiii. Kama'o brought some gin. That will wash the sausages down well, I think." The Egalrin happily hands over some coin, and points out a man with a tray pushing his own way through the crowd. Several different groups of people along the way are discussing what the play may or may not be about. While opinions differ considerably, the general consensus is, 'Some dwarven history play.'
"Wow." is Sharna's opinion of the whole thing. She's looking about with actual joy in her eyes and a smile on her lips - if only because she's out of the icy grip of the weather.
"It's been a while." she explains, a little wistfully. "Last time I went to a theater was that one time I--"
She silences herself suddenly, as if her brain only now caught up with her mouth.
"Oh! Sausages. Yes."
Entirely too happy to have anything as an excuse - even questionably edible mystery meat - she grabs the coin and slinks into the crowd. Packed it may be, but Sharna moves through it like a fish through a stream.
Thieves. If they couldn't slip through crowds with ease, where would they be?
Well. In jail, more likely than not.
Kama'o gently shakes her feathers, earning her first glare of the afternoon from the nearby play-goers who are spattered with drops of water. She then settles down on her haunches and peers at the stage, which is currently set up to look like a forest at night. Really. There are two trees-in-a-pot.
Just as Sharna reaches the questionable purveyor of questionable meat, a dwarf tromps out on stage to the sound of trumpets--an act meant to get everyone's attention. The poor soul looks a bit dazed as he sees the size of his audience, but he soon clears his throat. "Ladies and Gentlemen! Khazad, human, and Sith'makar! Please attend now to this, our history of Blorin Bronzeaxe and the brave manner in which he and a small group of companions regained his family fortune! It is a story near and dear to every dwarf heart. But I will allow Blorin to tell you in his own words!"
The lights dim a little, and a second dwarf appears with, indeed, a bronze axe in his hands. "I am Blorin Bronzeaxe!" he bellows over the still-quieting crowd. "Long ago, an evil red dragon named Bornado laid waste to my grandfather's great hall in the Desolate Mountain. The survivors have worked long and hard, but we finally have put together a team. We will kill Bornado and take back my grandfather's treasures or perish!"
Glancing frequently at the stage in attempts to not miss things (and earning her own glare and a tap of foot from the vendor), Sharna pays for and gathers two of the sausages-onna-stick (exact contents: unknown, but hopefully digestible). After a moment's pondering, and perhaps to make sure there's no hard feelings about the delay, she also purchases a small pie.
Or, well, that's what the sign says. To a point, considering the exact spelling is 'Pye'. The mush inside is supposedly a fruit mix.
The transaction complete, the elfkin makes her way back through the crowd. One can tell her position by the two sausages bobbing abovehead on their skewers - like a soldier holding their sword above water while they wade - in an attempt to not leave too many greasy stains on various people's clothing.
The actor who plays Blorin begins to get into his stride, strutting about the stage with his axe as he speaks. "Allow me to introduce you to my mighty companions! First, my cousins, Moin and Noin..." He goes on at length--including him, there are thirteen dwarves, all with fairly interchangable names, who walk through the set one at a time, each brandishing a unique weapon. Unfortunately, there are -not- a total of thirteen dwarves who think that acting is a good profession in Alexandria.
"That is not a dwarf! That is a human on their knees," Kama'o points out, loudly, sort of maybe in Sharna's general direction. "And that one! There, the one who now has a sword! He was Moin a moment ago. How can he also be Swiffer?" She points a talon accusingly at the stage.
The actors ignore the avian heckler, and as the last 'dwarf' moves through, Blorin goes to the center of the stage. "Lest you think that we dwarves plan to roust this Bornado alone, fear not! For we have hired a most esteemed wizard to be our guide. Behold, the mighty...Flandin!" Fake pyrotecnics and a smokebomb serve to herald Flandin's arrival on stage. He is dressed in what is supposed to be wizard finery, and has a beard that reaches to his belt. Also, a pointy hat. With stars on it which spell out, 'Wizzzard.' Someone was unsure how to end that word, too.
"That is not real magic!" Kama'o protests, as Flandin struts about the stage for a while, making things appear with poor sleight of hand--he actually drops the cards at one point. Clearing his throat, Blorin adds, 'And let us not forget the last member of our small party--the faithful Beiber, who carries our baggage!" A halfling runs out, slips on a spot of 'ice' that Flandin just conjured up, and falls flat on his face. "He's not very smart," Blorin confides to the audience in a stage-whisper. He is also, quite obviously, meant to be the comic relief of the whole piece.
There's a pause in the trek of the sausages. For a long moment, they stand very, very still.
The moment ends - and the skewers and the meat on them wobble violently, the unhealthy cooking grease the sausages are absolutely dripping with falling about. Only those immediatelly adjacent - and thus well in range of the rain of grease now occuring - can hear the laughter Sharna's desperately muffling with one hand.
Eventually, the elfkin composes herself and manages to reach her friend, offering up one of the sausages-onna-stick - all the better to accusingly point with.
"It's just a play." she explains to Kama'o, something that's liable to fall entirely, entirely on deaf ears - or be misunderstood.
In fact, she's being glared and mumbled at right now by one of the dwarves in the audience. Just a play, she says! Calling a piece of dwarven history just a play! How rude!
"Kama'o knows it is a play," the Egalrin says, not bothering to quiet her voice as she claims one of the sausages-onna-stick. "But that was not a dwarf! It was not even a very short human!" She turns to peer down at poor, poor Sharna. "And now look!" she says, glancing back at the stage. "The wizard is begging them to take along the halfling, but they said he was already in the company! Also, the halfling has a bucket on his foot!" Indeed, the poor Beiber is proving to be clumsy, and has already smashed two plates and put his foot in a bucket. Blorin is arguing that they cannot take him along in all good conscience, while Flandin is insisting he do it as a personal favor. Blorin finally relents, and the fifteen companions set off.
"Yes, but you're supposed to imagine." Sharna offers, even as, onstage, a wardrobe malfunction occurs - the string of the fake beard of one of the not-dwarves snaps in the march, and there's a bit of scrabbling to gather the runaway hair.
The elfkin does not notice, however, on account of eyeing the food she's holding. In the enhanced light she's getting, she can see its color - and the color in question is a little suspect for a meat product.
The enhanced light that is only there because people have discreetly slid away from the egalrin, lest anyone accuse them of knowing her.
Still, light or no light, sausages should not rightly have about fifteen shades.
Kama'o, thankfully, does not have much of a sense of taste -or- of smell. Which is probably why she's happily chowing down on the sausage. "Iiiii. It is hard to imagine a human as a son-of-the-earth," she insists, before quieting a little. Thankfully. For a split second. "Look! Look! That one is not even...wait, is that a -girl-? Is there a -girl- pretending to be a -dwarf-?" The poor actress is slowly turning red. Kama'o's voice travels.
The poor flustered actors (and actress) attempt to salvage the whole thing with the famous troll scene, but, unfortunately, Kama'o has sharp eyes. "That is Flandin! He has used his magic to turn himself into a troll so he can surprise the other trolls!" She nods firmly. Approvingly.
Looking about for a moment - people are inching away still, leaving a gaping hole in the center of which she and Kama'o are, the elfkin finally lifts the second sausage-onna-stick, offering it to the egalrin.
"Here, I think I'd rather give the pie a go. No room for both."
What? What's she supposed to do with it? She certainly isn't eating it, there's nobody close enough to slip it into the hand or pocket of... Besides, Kama'o seems to be enjoying it.
That done, Sharna turns her eyes to the stage again.
"I think you're embarassing her." Sharna offers to the egalrin in a much-subdued voice.
She shrinks a little, too. There's altogether too many eyes not on the stage, but on the OTHER festivity unfolding. Much of the attention involves shushing and glaring of icy daggers - though there are those who find Kama'o to be the true entertainment of the evening.
"I don't think that's what..." Sharna tries. And stops. How does one explain this? DOES one need to explain it? Maybe the latter crowd is completely right.
"Oh, thank you, iiwa. They are good, aren't they?" Kama'o does not seem to notice that Sharna has not even tried the theater delicacy--she simply polishes off the first and starts on the second. At least it keeps her quiet for a moment or two. On the not-so-bright side, it means that she has pointy sticks for later.
In the brief silence, the actors begin to get their collective grooves back. The dwarves (or rather, a subset thereof) happily break out of the sacs and begin to decimate the trolls, 'slaying' the last one as he dangled Beiber over the fire pit.
"Iiii. HEY! HEY YOU! DON'T FORGET TO PUT THE TROLL IN THE FIRE. IF YOU DO NOT PUT IT IN THE FIRE, IT WILL NOT DIE. BUT DON'T PUT THAT ONE IN, IIWA, IT IS JUST FLANDIN PRETENDING TO BE A TROLL." Kama'o, apparently under the impression that the actors are not responding because they cannot hear her, has upped the volume. "Kama'o just wants to help," she tells the nearest of the glarers and shush-ers. At least the nobles' boxes are fairly empty.
Meanwhile, the actors attempt (badly) to ad-lib in a scene where Flandin really did pretend to be a troll but did not admit this because the dwarves were doing just fine on their own. Blorin is now glaring at Flandin, who is happily soaking up the extra attention on his character. Beiber runs into a tree and falls down, but no one else notices.
"I'm sure they appreciate the help." says Sharna, deciding at this point that any interruptions from the over-eager druidess can only improve this event and throwing fuel on that particular fire.
Those poor, poor actors.
She earns a few more glares of her own by, when Kama'o stops, tearing a piece from the pie. Normally, this would not be something that can in any way interrupt anyone - it's just that the pie gives an unexpected and rather intimidating cracking noise as the crust is broken. The unidentifiable goo within gushes from the hole, the meal looking for all the world like someone squeezed an overlarge spider a little too hard.
Still, the 'pye' proves at least edible when Sharna shrugs and pops the piece in her mouth. One can tell from the fact she only grimaces a little bit.
The actors deposit the 'trolls' on the fake fire, earning a nod or two from Kama'o. Many of those who have been forced by the rain into the room to watch some lame dwarven historical play (the actors even shout out their lineages when they stab someone) are in complete agreement with Sharna. One of the men sidles through the open space and hands a container of popped corn to the elfkin, nudging her arm and pointing up at the Egalrin. He stops short when he realizes he's communicating, however silently, with a Mulblood, but he's already handed the popcorn over. And indicated that it is for Kama'o.
Unfortunately, this means that the Egalrin looks around and peers at the two, confused, and misses some important dialogue. "We have now arrived in Mythwood and are being greeted by the elven king Smythe, son of Agent," Blorin announces while Kama'o is looking away. Blorin then proceeds to point out to the elf that the map in the elf's study has secret dwarven runes on it that point to a backdoor into the Desolate mountain.
Looking back around, Kama'o blinks a few times. "Wait, who is that?" she asks, pointing at Smythe. "What are they doing? What did they say? Wasn't he a troll a few minutes ago? I thought they killed all the trolls. Perhaps they did not put him in the fire like Kama'o said. THROW HIM IN THE FIRE, THAT WILL KILL HIM GOOD." ...Several dwarves are in tears now.
Sharna, being Sharna, covertly gathers a handful of the popped corn off the top of the bag. Hey, it's a perfect moment for the very type of snack!
Still, a handful missing is nigh-unnoticeable, and she's happy to nudge Kama'o and pass her the rest.
"From the gentleman with the--" she begins, and then realizes the man's beaten a retreat. "Huh. He's gone."
"That's the elf king. See the ears?" Sharna says, pointing at the paper mache ears peeking under the wig.
"Maybe he was cursed." the shadowblood offers a theory, applying the poker to the fire of Kama'o's likely gin-aided imagination.
Actually, that's the worst part. Kama'o hasn't -touched- the gin yet. She eyes the corn somewhat dubiously, but drops the pointed sticks (thankfully) and takes the corn instead. "Those are not his real ears," Kama'o protests. There's a brief pause, in which the actors actually manage to get through two whole lines of dialogue. "Oh! Oh! Kama'o knows! HE IS ONLY PRETENDING TO BE AN ELF KING. HE IS REALLY THE TROLL IN DISGUISE. RUN, BLORIN, RUN!"
The poor halfling on stage can't take it anymore. He starts to giggle, and then points at the elf himself. "She is right!" he exclaims. "It is the troll in disguise! We must kill it!" The actual dwarves are looking daggers at him, while the humans seem to think that this might (a) make their parts larger, and (b) rather improve the historical play. This leads to Flandin exclaiming, "Why, I think he is right! The troll has killed Smythe and taken his place!" at the same time that Blorin declares, "SILLY HALFLING. I have known Smythe for two centuries, and I tell you, this is he!"
"Ooh. Drama!" Sharna says, grinning unabashedly and stuffing her cheeks full of the popped corn. The tiny crunch her chewing produces is drowned entirely in the conflict now happening on stage.
Not a finger is lifted, not a word spared to stop Kama'o. The whole thing is getting entirely too good to miss.
"I love the theater." Sharna comments once she's done with the snack. This is likely a very, very newfound appreciation for the theatrical arts.
There is a brief, but rather intense whispered conversation on the stage, largely between Blorin and Flandin. The latter, looking rather put-out, finally announces. "I was wrong! It really is Smythe the elf-king." That done, Blorin immediately takes over. "WE MUST LEAVE THIS PLACE BEFORE NIGHTFALL. COME, EVERYONE, LET US PACK OUR THINGS AND CONTINUE OUR TREK. WE WILL EITHER KILL BORNADO OR BE KILLED OURSELVES." He follows it with much glaring around the stage to make sure everyone is on the same page, allowing Smythe to quietly exit.
"NO! THE TROLL IS GETTING AWAY! YOU SHOULD KILL IT NOW!" Kama'o instructs. This time, however, no one follows her lead, and the play comes back together for the moment. Unfortunately, the next scene is set in a mountain pass. "THAT DOES NOT LOOK LIKE ANY MOUNTAIN I HAVE SEEN. THAT CLIFF WOULD JUST FALL OFF IF IT WERE A REAL MOUNTAIN," Kama'o opines. The actors mostly ignore her.
"You know, maybe you should work here. Help them out with the details." Sharna idly and innocently suggests as she partakes of the Pye, possibly sealing the fate of everyone and everything in the complex. She looks quite happy herself, apparently unoffended by strange-looking mountains and eager to see what happens next. The anticipation may or may not rely somewhat on the knowledge that Kama'o will likely find something to comment on, no matter what happens.
"Kama'o should. Kama'o cannot believe anyone who had ever lived near a mountain could paint something like that," the Egalrin harumphs. Backstage, a scene-painter is crying. Then, for a few moments, it seems as if the play might actually make it all the way to the Desolate Mountain without interruption. The group climbs the mountain and then spots a cave to settle into.
Tragedy strikes! Or comedy, depending on your disposition. The dwarves and Beiber (Flandin has disappeared) settle down to sleep and are overtaken by a bunch of nasty goblins. At this, Kama'o lets out a screech of protest and actually flaps her wings a few time, so agitated is she. "NOW LOOK HERE. NO SELF-RESPECTING KHAZAD WOULD NOT SPOT A GOBLIN TRAPDOOR IN THE BACK OF A CAVE. AND WHO GOES TO SLEEP IN AN UNFAMILIAR CAVE WITHOUT SETTING A WATCH? WHAT IF THERE HAD BEEN A BEAR IN THERE? AND LOOK, IT IS THE TROLL AGAIN. KAMA'O SAID YOU SHOULD HAVE BURNED HIM. AND WHY DOES FLANDIN KEEP DRESSING UP AS THE BAD GUYS? MAYBE HE IS HELPING THEM."
Actually, most of the latter part of her tirade is unheard, because discussions break out -everywhere-. For once, the general dwarven opinion is with Kama'o. Just how -did- the goblins get the drop on the dwarves? Unfortunately, there are some goblins in the audience too, who do not seem to enjoy being cast as the villains. Although it is considerably truncated and hushed, a similar conversation breaks out on stage, with Flandin and Blorin on opposite sides again.
The edginess of the crowd and the agitation builds to boiling point amongst the actors. Foul Khazad curses are thrown.
And then, suddenly, one of the actors smashes a cardboard boulder over another's head, and things spiral into havoc.
Not that Sharna and Kama'o get to witness this out of more than corners of their eyes. Behind them, someone clears their throat.
"Ma'am. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
The voice of the giantborne head of the security team is something akin to a gravel beach having learned to talk. The man is massive, even for his race. His muscles seem to have muscles of their own.
The remains of the Pye hit the floor. Sharna, for all the world, looks like her first instinct is to bolt - but she can't just up and leave her befeathered friend.
The halfling, clearly an acolyte of Ceinara, takes one look at the chaos unfolding on stage and runs backstage to get the paper-mache dragon. At least, he reasons, the dragon should be there at the end of all things. One or two actors are still trying to keep the play going, and decide to react to this as if they have skipped directly to the final scenes. Flandin, however, grabs Moin's bow and proceeds to shoot an arrow in the dragon, causing the halfling inside to yelp and spit curses. "I HAVE SLAIN THE FOUL BEAST!" he yells, just before getting knocked out with Noin's not-quite-fake-enough morningstar.
Kama'o turns, and blinks confusedly up at the security guard. "Leave? But they are finally killing the troll," she says. "And look, they have slain the dragon! Now the sons-of-earth can have their treasure back!" The horrible part is, she really does not see that she is doing anything wrong.
Meanwhile, the chaos on the stage is being subsumed by the chaos in the audience. The slaying of the dragon by a human instead of a dwarf is causing more than one dwarf to be historically accurate in non-dwarven faces. One, running to aid a friend, slips and falls on the Pye. "Hey! Hey! NOT MY SAUSAGES!" someone else calls from the back of the crowd, which is quickly becoming a free-for-all.
"I was told to escort the Egalrin lady out." the giantborn rumbles. He isn't being paid nearly enough to be making sense of things.
"Oh really?" Sharna replies, indignant, arms crossing as she eyes him cooly. "I don't think so. She's with me."
The giantborn's enormous, bushy brows furrow.
Massive arms reach out with surprising speed. One bodily lifts a yelping, kicking Sharna - the other grabs hold of Kama'o's harness with a rock-firm grip, lifting her up as well as if she were a feather, not merely covered in them. A very short time later, the two are not-entirely-gently deposited on the rain-slickened cobbles behind the building, and the door is pointedly slammed shut behind them, with enough force and finality to make it rattle.
"AWK!" Kama'o makes an entirely characteristic and undignified noise. "YOU PUT ME DOWN THIS INSTANT, CHICK-EATER! HELP! HELP! THE CHICK-EATER IS TRYING TO EAT KAMA'O!" It is Kama'o's exit, and not the exit of the dragon, or of Blorin and Flandin (locked together in mortal combat) that most of the audience stops to watch...and applaud. The whole place erupts in spontaneous genuflection except for a few isolated cases in which the fighting has become quite personal and rather serious (someone found those pointy sticks).
And then...there is the rain. "Iiii! That was not nice -at all-!" Kama'o protests, ruffling her feathers and then extending a wing to keep the worst of the rain off of Sharna, even if it is pouring. "We paid money to be in there! Iiii. I suppose I did not care much about the play anyway. It did not make much sense." She glares at nothing for a few moments, before slowly shaking her head. "Well, Kama'o knows a shop over there that sells drinks, and it has a roof. Shall we go there, iiwa?" The night is young. The whole city is not rioting yet.
Rubbing her sore hindquarters, Sharna hauls herself up onto her feet.
"Drinks sound like a lovely idea." she concedes, letting Kama'o lead the way to whatever other mayhem is in store before the night ends.
That, and she dare not relinquish her befeathered umbrella.
Chatting merrily away, she walks down the street alongside her friend.
And a few blocks away, a proprietor of a shop suffers a foreboding chill, as if horrible things are about to happen...