The Show Must Go On! — IC

[Fialova]

Things have been tough of late, tough enough that any opportunity for work is worth looking into, even one as odd as this one. You came across the girl in the street, a young girl who couldn't have been more than 13 years of age. She was slowly walking, holding a basket of small scrolls, and passing them out to anyone who would take one. Most of the others ignored her, and you could see the look of disappointment in her face with each scroll that was denied. You took one, though, which was met by a polite smile as the girl continued on her way. Perhaps it was out of pity, or perhaps it was curiosity. Perhaps you didn't even mean to take, but that it was an automatic response to something being free. Whatever the reason, you took the scroll and broke the wax seal, rolling it open to reveal the following message in delicate cursive:

Code: Select all

Dear Friend,

Are you looking for a new opportunity in your life? Are you a lover of art, of music, of dance? Do you seek action and adventure? Love and triumph? Is there an emptiness in your life that you cannot seem to fill? If so, then you're in luck, because what I offer is all of that and more! What I offer is a chance at fortune, at fame, at the life you don't have but long for oh so desperately. Most importantly, what I offer is better shown than told, so if you seek these things, please meet with me and let me grant your wildest dreams.

With my endless love and gratitude,
Cece

You found on the back of the scroll an address, a date, and a time. Those you showed the scroll to might have shown interest, or they might have shown concern. You might have even felt concern yourself. But day after day, the young girl was in the street, passing out scrolls, and eventually the date on the scroll arrived. Against all doubts and fears, you decided it was worth the risk, that the potential rewards - whatever, exactly, they might be - sounded too good to pass up. And so you stand, now, at the foot of the steps of the building on the address.

It is the abandoned Miner's Guild hall, a building you've seen in passing countless times before. You are not alone, as others begin to arrive as well, and while not many, you all look to one another and to the dilapidated structure with confusion. What could be the purpose? Is it truly the correct address? Have you made a bad decision? The sun is near to setting and your mind races with such questions, when before you the door opens.

Stepping through the door is human woman who appears to be in her early-to-mid twenties. She is taller than all of you who have gathered, though only by a little on the tallest of your number. She holds her left hand to her head, shielding her eyes from the sun's rays as her eyes adjust to the light, and you notice that the room behind her which she exited is quite dim in comparison. She seems more disheveled than you would have expected from someone promising wealth and fame, with her clothing clearly dirty and not even buttoned up properly. Her brown hair seems a mess, and you notice bits of cobweb on one side of her head.

"Ah! Bonjour, mes amis!" she says, excitedly, as she walks down the few steps to the street level. "Er, greetings!" she continues, this time in Andorian, though with a noticeable Imardanian accent. She glances around, counting your number. "Oh, six, plus que ce à quoi je m'attendais," she says quietly to herself, before stepping back to a spot in front of the steps.

"Come in, come in, we have much to discuss and it will be dark soon. Angie has made us tea," she says with a smile, as she steps towards the door and motions for the group to follow.

Imardanian Translation, for those fluent

[SHOW]

"Ah! hello my friends!" then more quietly later "Oh, six, more than I expected,"

[ratwizard]

"Bonjour," Silja says in return to the woman, smiling curiously at her disheveled appearance. I've heard the greatest of composers... musicians... even playwrights were often the least composed. Funny, that.

She looks around her, studying the number of faces. Who are they, really? I wonder. Lost souls? Aspirants? Discarded remnants? Or diamonds emerging from the coal surrounding them? She had come here looking for a new life, but only found new problems so far. Every lead had come up dry, every turn had led to a dead end. How many more taverns could there be? Even in a city this big, eventually every one of them would be tired of hearing the same songs, no matter the singer.

Without answers, Silja courteously nods at the woman — Cece? Is this her? — and climbs the steps to follow behind.

[Scratcherclaw]

Naji watches the others waiting with him closely, taking note of the large difference in appearances between them. Is Magnificent Mutar recruiting or something? No, no, he said they were going north after Crescent Bluff. Probably in the Forelle by now. He eyes the door cautiously, watching it swing open. His eyes go wide with momentary terror as the disheveled woman steps from the shadows, cobwebs in her hair and clothes looking well-worn. Oh, shit! I received an invite from a ghost!

The Serranborn blinks a few times, barely making out the foreign words as he makes sure he's not dreaming. Oh, no, this isn't a ghost. This is just a woman. Cece, I guess, Naji thinks as the terror subsides, listening to her words. A wide smile forms on his face. "Good evening," he says, his charming Serran accent seeming to kiss the words themselves. Though he'd not even spent a year in Fort Sakura, he had a quick understanding for the new language. His accent and clothing always betrayed his foreign origins, however.

He crosses his arms, rubbing his bare upper arms. Tea? Good, good. That should keep me at least a little warm. Sek-bas spare me from this frigid air. A sudden breeze makes him shiver, and he follows behind the woman into the building.

[Fialova]

Silja

[SHOW]

Meeting the woman, hearing her accent, and seeing her appearance, you are reminded of a scandal that took place two years back, in Ellisport. A young playwright was shunned by the local theater scene after causing an uproar with a play she wrote portraying the relationship between Elys and the Goddess as lovers, rather than the traditional role of prophet and goddess. You recall the playwright in question was a young brunette who dressed a bit strangely, named Cece Leconte.

[ratwizard]

Oh, Silja thinks. Oh. That Cece. Her courteous smile grows wide for a brief moment, the solitary humor lifting her spirits. Her vulgar play did quite the number on Imardanian high society. I'm surprised she wasn't made an example of by the Church of the Goddess.

She turns slightly, peering at the Serranborn man. He's handsome. Young. And he brings an accent, too? He'll go far. With a sigh, she remembers she received the invitation on a scrap of paper handed out by a passing girl. As far as this thread will run, at least, however close to the end of the spool it may already be...

[Namelessjake]

Eirlian runs her hand through Hyrmina's fur as she stands outside the dilapidated Miner's Guild building with the other hopefuls, Hyrmina sitting by her side leaning against her leg. She glances down to see Hyrmina's large brown eyes staring back up and her and smiles.

"Bonjour," Eirlian replies quietly, following the other woman's lead in replying in Imardanian. She had never been too confident of her Imardanian conversation skills having learned it from songs and plays, breathing a silent sigh of relief when the woman swaps back to her native tongue. She glances around at the others who had answered the flier's call. I wonder what their arts are, I don't see any other instruments, she thinks as she looks around the group.

"Come on Hyrmina," she says as she goes to make her way up the steps after the others. Hyrmina needs no encouragement however and Eirlian's large canine companion quickly pushes past her up the stairs and inside where she sits by the doorway waiting for her master to catch up.

[BartNL]

Stian looks at the other people in the hall of the abandoned guild. Young blood, full of hopes and dreams. Like those who once upon a time build this now decrepit hall we stand in. This hall who is like me? Ironic. And yet, would that mean that I am in the right place, even though I am the odd one out? Stian sits down and takes some time to gather his thoughts.
After the tall woman enters, Stian says to himself: "She is one of those, huh. Well, this could be fun after all."
He stands up and replies without a hint of an dwarfish accent: "Bonjour madame, vous êtes un plaisir pour les yeux. Je suis un vieux nain. Mais dans toutes mes années j'ai jamais vu quelqu'un d'aussi charmant." Stian follows the woman at a leisurely pace.

Translation: Imardanian

[SHOW]

For those who speak the language fluently, it is clear that Stian's language is a weird mix of too formal and familiar. His accent is almost impeccable, and his tone is posh.

Translation: Hello madame, you are a sight for sore eyes. I am an old dwarf. But in all my years, I've never seen someone as lovely as you".

[greysigil]

The last person to enter, an elf of indeterminate gender, listens intently to the Imardanian being spoken; their knowledge of trade-speak common and frequent contact with other languages allows them some understanding, if only the bare outline of what was said. As the others filter in, they take stock of who turned up. A dwarf, a half-elf with a dog, another Serran, and-- Their breath catches as they see the songstress, but is quickly released as they realize that they don't recognize her. Two humans, both as different as people tend to be. They take a second to commit their impressions to memory, before following the group into the building.

[Fialova]

"Tu me flatte, mon nouvel ami nain," the woman responds to Stian, stepping inside ahead of you once you begin to approach the door. Her tone sounds cheerful as before, but it is clear from her posture that she is not as stricken by the comment as she claims.

The group of newcomers - six in total - file inside the dilapidated building one-by-one. Inside you find a room that is about what one would expect when entering an abandoned building. The room you step into is quite spacious, with high ceilings, and it feels pretty empty with its overall lack of decor. Straight ahead is a large, green rug that takes up the centermost portion of the room, though it is noticeably stained and dusty from years of neglect, and eaten away in places, likely by insects. Past that is a large pair of parallel staircases, which look to have once been quite grand and sturdy. The one to the left has a hole in the middle where a beam from above fell through, with the beam visibly jutting up from below in its new position. The portion to the right, from what you can tell, seems potentially usable, though it is impossible to tell without walking nearer to it.

To the right side of the room is a large stone hearth, where a meager fire is being tended by a woman other than the one who'd greeted you before. Near the fire is a single sofa that appears to have been recently cleaned, as it is lacking in most of the grime that the rest of the area appears to be covered in. It is far from perfect, however, as it shows signs of having parts of the cloth covering eaten away as well, and one of the legs clearly broke off at some point and is instead being propped up by a number of books. The sofa looks to only be designed to seat two comfortably, but could hold three if little room is left between each one. Gathered nearby to it are a couple of crates that look to have been slid from other parts of the room, as the streaks through the dust are clearly visible on the ground.

Placed on the crate closest to the sofa, which is the largest of the bunch, is a an ornate porcelain platter of scones surrounded by a matching set of 12 small teacups. A teapot sits apart from these, with the lid open to await the addition of water, which is being boiled on a kettle over the fire by the second woman. In addition to the two women, you notice that a girl - the same one who'd passed you the scroll that led you here - sits demurely on a crate closer to the hearth, watching the woman tending to it. She perks up a bit as you all enter, and turns to face you, giving a polite wave.

"It looks like the tea is still a few moments from completion," the first woman says, taking a position towards the center of the room before turning to watch the rest of you enter. "Please, have a seat," she continues, motioning with her left hand towards the seating near the hearth. "We have many things to talk about still, but I suppose first I should introduce myself. My name is Cecile Leconte, but you may call me Cece," she says, motioning to herself dramatically with her other hand. "If you do not mind me asking, what are your names, my new friends?"

Imardanian Translation

[SHOW]

"You flatter me, my new dwarven friend,"

[Scratcherclaw]

Naji glances around the dilapidated interior, almost stunned at what poor shape it's in. Or maybe she is a ghost, if this is anything to go on. He loses count of all the cobwebs, eyeing one particularly large spider with interest with intrigue. You may have to find a new home soon, little one. I know the feeling too well. He thinks back to his time at the Harem, where he had become acquainted with the many trained tarantulas used in certain exotic acts. Though he'd gotten past the point of them bothering him, he vastly preferred the snakes, of both varieties.

Glancing around the room, he's relieved to see the woman's not alone. He eyes the set of teacups and smirks at their stark contrast from the rest of the shabby structure he finds himself in. He listens along as the strange woman formally introduces herself, nodding along. So she is Cece, and that's how she pronounces her name. Why must Imardanians make such things so difficult?

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the Serranborn says with a charming smile, leaning against the sofa. "I am Naji. Your promises of new opportunity were too good to ignore. I am eager to hear what you have to say."

[ratwizard]

Silja scans the room, taking in the derelict nature of the contents, yet finding some macabre humor in the juxtapositioning of the ornate tea set and scone platter above a pile of dusty crates. New ownership never looked so evident.

"I prefer to stand, for now. Merci," she says quietly. Though I should make sure to take a scone, once offered. Breaking bread is the best way to ingratiate yourself to your host. Silja grimaces inwardly, at that. No. I must stop treating every social encounter as if it is a puzzle to be solved.

She takes a deep breath, the smile returning to her face. "My name is Silja. It is a surprise but a delight to meet so many who speak the tongue," she says, eying Stian momentarily before facing Cece once more. "Thank you for inviting me to this."

[greysigil]

Rea wanders wanders to the other side of the room, tracing the walls and examining the decoration (or lack thereof). I can see the bones of something good here, but my, has this place fallen from grace. They turn back at the lull in introductions and speak up, just barely loud enough to be heard. "Rea. It is a pleasure to meet you." They then go back to examining the walls, glancing back every so often to keep track of everybody else.

[Namelessjake]

It's better than some of the taverns I've stayed in at least, Eirlian thinks as she looks around the dilapidated room. Hopefully that wasn't load bearing, she thinks, glancing at the fallen beam on the stairs.

She takes a seat as she's told, slightly surprised at the others who don't. Hyrmina follows her and sits by her legs, getting comfortable before curling up on the floor. "My name is Eirlian, and this is Hyrmina," she says bending down and patting Hyrmina.

[ratwizard]

"Hyrmina," Silja repeats, stepping closer. "A beautiful name and a beautiful dog. May I pet her?" she asks, crouching slightly with hands resting on the knees of her dress.

[Fialova]

"I'm Felsi," the ginger woman says, her accent clearly placing her as being from the Masaan Valley to those aware of the regional dialects of the peninsula. She steps into the room and makes a beeline for Hyrmina, giving the dog a few scratches behind the ear before she finds a barrel near the sofa to lean against. "What's this all about?" she asks, a bit bluntly. "You fancy ladies don't seem like murderers, so what? This some kinda surprise tea party, or there more to this?"

"No, no, not only tea," Cece responds, shaking her hands and her heads in tandem. "There is more, much more," she continues with a smile. She steps away from her spot in the center of the room and moves closer to the fire, close to the child and the other woman.

"To finish the introductions, this is my partner, Angie," she says, motioning to the woman tending to the teakettle. The second woman stands and turns, giving a very precise bow that suggests she has performed the same motion many times in the past.

"Thank you, love," Angie says, her voice distinctly more Andorian-sounding than Imardanian. "We appreciate you all coming, I hope you will listen to what Cece has to say. I was skeptical of it myself at first, but it is quite a compelling idea," she continues with a chuckle. You notice that this woman is noticeably older than the first, seeming nearly double her age. She begins to turn back towards the fire, before catching herself and instead facing towards the child on the crate.

"Oh, and this young girl here is my daughter, Émi," she says, to which the girl smiles and waves once more. "She is still learning the local tongue, so apologies if she doesn't speak much. Alright, I will leave the rest to Cece," she says with a smile, before turning back towards the fire.

"Merci, ma douce," Cece says with a grin, watching Angie turn away before turning herself back towards the group. "What do you see when you look around this place, hm?" she asks, clearly rhetorically as she does not pause to await anyone's answers. "An abandoned building? A reminder of the fall of Andor and the great mining industry that flourished in the past? Oui, it is those things. But I also see more," she says, walking once more back towards the rug at the center of the room, spinning slowly as she returns to her earlier position, holding her arms wide to motion towards the room and the rest of the building above.

"Tell me, what is it that all great cities have that this lovely floral town does not?" she asks, again rhetorically, continuing quickly right after. "Arts! Entertainment! Culture! All the great cities in the other regions of this land have these, but Fort Sakura is lacking. I would like to change that," she continues, returning her arms to her side before extending one towards the group of you, as if asking you to take her hand.

"I would like to provide this city with a theater where its lovely residents can witness comedy and drama. Song and dance. Romance and tragedy. I would like to take this place, this empty shell, and transform it into the city's very own theater. You all read my scroll and sought fame and fortune, and most of all adventure. You are the type of people I need for my idea to work, the kind of people who can bring this great city to even greater heights of art and culture. And so, I invite all of you to join me, here, in establishing an Entertainer's Guild." She finishes her short speech with a sigh, as if of relief, and looks to you all with a grin.

Silja, Stian

[SHOW]

Though you could not quite place her before with her back turned, seeing the second woman's face - especially her eyes - and hearing her name make you quite convinced that she is none other than Angélique Messier (known mostly by the mononym Angélique), the famed prima donna of Imardin's most illustrious ballet troupe. You know she served in the position for many years before retiring from the stage when her husband died, approximately 5 years prior.

Imardanian Translation

[SHOW]

"Thanks, sweetheart,"

[Scratcherclaw]

Naji glimpses at the dog and grins. It's so fluffy. Such breeds would not do well in Serra, but it is adorable! Noticing no one else besides Eirlian has taken a seat on the sofa, Naji plops down, leaning back against the worn cloth. On second thought, maybe I shouldn't have, he thinks, examining the holes and stains with only a thin layer of clothing protecting his skin. I will later, I suppose.

He eyes the older woman curiously as she's introduced. Though not unfamiliar with such relationships—common enough at the harem, both with clients and just fellow members—he was curious as to their origin. How did the two of them find one another? I suppose love finds a way when it's meant to be. His heart aches at his own thoughts and he frowns, knowing his unlucky past with romance. He shakes himself out of the headspace, instead listening to Cece's proposition.

He places a hand under his chin, as if in deep thought, and smirks. "Oh, now that is a fascinating idea indeed. The masses flocking to see me, err, us." He glances around the shabby structure, eyes stopping over every crack or splinter. "It will take much work to transform this... guild, but," he pauses, taking a look over those gathered with him. "I would lend you all my talents."

[BartNL]

"Merci for the tea and the warm welcome ladies. My name is Stian. I am delighted to take up your offer." Stian replies cheerfully, hiding his true feelings. This place requires a lot of work. sigh.

[Namelessjake]

Eirlian nods in reply to Silja as Hyrmina happily accepts the attention from both her and Felsi, shifting her position to guide any hands to where she wants to be pet.

Eirlian listens closely as the other members of the guild finish their introductions.

Being able to perform here regularly would be amazing, she thinks as Cece outlines her plans for the building and the group.

"I'd also like to help," she says softly with a smile.

[greysigil]

What an interesting set of stories. I can't wait to see how this unfolds.. Rea completes the circuit of the room, ending by the hearth and taking a rest near it. They glance at the others, gaging their reactions and responses, before responding themselves. "I can help. I know something of organization, as well as performance."

[ratwizard]

I thought that was Angélique. Silja listens carefully to Cece's pitch, studying her face, her movements. She seems enamored by this idea, truly. Her play may have caused issue in Imardin, but true genius often does. Besides, those who follow the Goddess tend to truly have a stick up their asses.

Silja smiles warmly at the young girl. What a sweetie. I will have to speak with her in her native tongue. I'm sure she has a lot to say, being here with so few to speak to.

She bristles a bit at the brash nature of Felsi, but out of surprise and not dislike. That one seems the right match for this environment, Silja considers, appreciating her blunt words.

"If you'll have me, I would be honored to be a part of this," Silja finally says in turn after the others. "I've sung for few, and for many, and — to be honest — I've always wanted to play a part on stage." Despite her usual ease of telling lies with no issue, speaking bare-heartedly, and so openly, causes her to blush. This... will take some getting used to. A good problem to have.

[Fialova]

"I dunno much about entertaining," Felsi replies, chuckling lightly after seeing Cece's enthusiasm, and that of the others. "Making this place useful again sounds more fun than my current job, though. Sure, I'm in," she says to the woman, giving her a smile and a nod.

"Oh, parfait!" Cece exclaims, clapping her hands together under her chin in excitement. She rushes over to Émi and gives the girl a hug, before stepping over to Angie, who'd just stood up from the fire. Cece gives her partner a hug from behind, saying, "Je ne m'attendais pas à ce que beaucoup soient d'accord, c'est merveilleux!" Just as soon as she'd approached, she leaves the woman again and stands at a position near the create where the child is sitting, who watches up at Cece with a mixture of surprise and amazement showing on her face.

"Grand!" the woman says again. "Thank you all, it is nice to have all of you join me in this plan. I hope we can work well together," she continues, giving the group a large grin. She places her hands on her hips before looking each of you over. As she does so, Angie grabs the teakettle from the fire and takes it to the crate with the tea set. She pours the now-boiling water into the teapot where leaves are already waiting to steep, and once done she sets the now-empty pot on the ground near the roaring fire.

"While the tea is steeping we should get to know one another more," she continues. "I'll begin. I am a writer, I hail from a small town in Imardin and I hope to provide you all with many lovely stories and songs to perform." She motions to Angie, saying now, "Angie is a wonderful dancer but she does not perform anymore. She will handle any choreography we need, and help to teach any of you who want to learn dancing what she knows."

"I'm always happy to share my talents with those who are eager to learn" the woman says, as she walks over to take a seat by her daughter. Once seated she strokes the girl's hair gently with one hand, before turning back to Cece.

"Tell me, mes nouveaux amis, where do you come from? What are you good at? What do you love?" she asks now, looking eagerly towards each of you with a gleam in her eye.

Imardanian Translation

[SHOW]

"I didn't expect so many to agree, how wonderful!"

[Scratcherclaw]

Parfait? Naji thinks, somewhat recognizing the foreign word. Isn't that some type of Imardanian dessert? Are we having that with tea? His grin widens as he grows excited for something sweet and new to try. He looks around, not seeing any sign of such a concoction. Maybe she just remembered and forgot it at home.

He nods along as Cece speaks, watching Angie prepare the tea out of the corner of his eye. He draws his arms across his chest, rubbing his shoulders as a drafty breeze touches his skin. The tea can't come soon enough... He perks up at the mention of Angie being a dancer, curious about what she might teach him.

As Cece asks everyone to speak about themselves, the Serranborn smirks, ever eager to be the center of attention, even if for a short while. "I have come to this land from Crescent Bluff," he says, choosing to omit the part of his life before that.

He stands, somewhat flaunting his body to the small crowd. "I am skilled in alluring audiences with my body and rhythm. Ah, with dance I mean." he says with a confident grin. "Or my other talents..." he trails quietly.

[ratwizard]

Other... talents? Silja thinks, giving Naji a closer look. A courtesan, then. I see. With the charm and intrigue he must have developed to survive thus far, I imagine we will become fast friends, or fervent rivals, yet nothing in between.

She steps forward and offers a gentle curtsey, feeling the eyes and ears muster upon her. "I've come a long way too," she explains, mostly to Cece. "Like you, from Imardin. A beautiful place to call home, but I have sought new sights."

Taking a breath, she struggles for a brief moment to speak freely. "I've sung since I was a young girl, and it's what I do best. If we have time later, I can perform a piece — though some of you may have already seen it around the city." Silja offers a smile. "I've always wanted to act, too. Perhaps a play, or a musical, where both would be called for."

[BartNL]

A dancer from the desert, and a singer girl from Imardin. One too young not to be embarrassed and one too old to be this shy.

Stian replies, speaking loudly and addressing Cece and the rest of the people in the hall: "Altough it might sound odd to your youthful ears. I happen to be the youngest of my kind. Stian clears his throat and with says with a booming voice: "I am Stian son of Fell, the last child of Andor! I was born in the lost realm over eight decades ago. Like most of my kind, I am skilled in construction and I am quite the tinkerer, I know how to brew potions and I have even mastered the ancient art of enchanting items with magic. As far as the arts go: In my many travels across the continent I have mastered the art of oration.
I am also blessed with a keen eye for talent." As he finishes his sentence he swiftly winks at Eirlian.

[ratwizard]

Silja listens to the dwarf, studying the wrinkles on his face and his ancient accent. Could he really be the last child of Andor? It's more likely that he's exaggerating, but I appreciate his sense of style. I'm sure he'll be a valuable asset to this eclectic group.

[Namelessjake]

Wow, they're from so far away, Eirlian thinks as Naji and Silja talk. At least I'm not the only one from the peninsula. Andor though, he must be so old, I wonder if he knows Bertrinn, she thinks as Stian also replies.

She blushes slightly at the dwarf's wink, unsure of it's meaning. "I'm from Iron Eye Cove," she says after a moment. "I sing and play the lute," she adds with a smile, patting the instrument slung over her shoulder.

Everyone else sounds so talented, I hope I'm good enough.

[greysigil]

Oh, an escort? They are very pretty, I wager they did well. I wonder what caused him to leave. And a singer, thank the stars she isn't Her. And a stagehand, skilled in just about everything. What an interesting bunch we make. A silence lulls for a moment. Oh, they're waiting for me. they realize with a start.

Rea clears their throat softly before speaking up; "S-sorry, my name is Rea, and I'm from Serra as well. The Great Library though, well to the north of Crescent Bluff." They pause for a second, collecting their thoughts. "As I said, I know of performance. Specifically a type of dancing involving the use of a sword, rather than the body alone. I also have a mind for organization, I worked as an archivist before I left."

They stay by the fire, shifting slightly to be more comfortable, and folding their hands in their lap.

[ratwizard]

"Sword... dancing?" Silja asks, her eyes wide in astonishment. "I'd love to see that. As would many in this city — and beyond it, I imagine." She gives Rea a friendly smile.

And an archivist, too, she considers, impressed. Each of us are quite talented in our own ways. This sort of venture may not have the funding nor the fame, but it certainly has the people it needs to achieve both.

[Fialova]

"Wow, you lot are from all over, and so good at performance already," Felsi responds, her eyes a bit wide after listening to the others' introductions. "I'm from here, I guess," she continues, as the attention now turns towards her, as the last of the newcomers to speak. "Grew up on a farm outside the city, now I live in the market district. I'm good at building things, I guess, so I can help fix this place up. Couldn't do much for performance, unless you don't mind some dumb jokes here and there," she continues with a smirk.

"Ah, fantastique!" Cece continues. "You all seem so talented, I can hardly wait to begin,"

"Well, the tea is done now, so you might just have to," Angie responds, as she grabs the tea kettle and begins to fill 9 of the 12 cups on the crate.

"Oui, it is also night," Cece continues. "There is little we can do tonight to begin. I wanted to hold this gathering as a way to meet all of the interested parties, before the work actually begins. Tomorrow, in the daylight, I will be able to show you more of this place and my plans for it."

When the cups are all full, the two women and their daughter all grab one and begin to sip, the women staying standing near the others, while the child returns to her seat on the crate to drink by herself. Angie and Cece both watch the rest of you eagerly.

[ratwizard]

Tea, the perfect way to brew poison or a stunning agent into a beverage, Silja thinks, irritated to be remembering lessons from her early courses in Council Intelligence. Not that she'd ever used it herself, fortunately.

Deciding that Cece poisoning her new recruits would be an undeniably illogical course of action, Silja deems the tea safe and takes a cup for herself. She sips it slowly and silently, the marks of high society etiquette still weaved into her muscle memory.

"It's delicious," she says with a courteous nod. "Thank you." Turning to Cece, Silja tlits her head slightly. "Should we meet here, again? Did you have a time in mind?"

[Scratcherclaw]

Naji grins as he watches the steaming hot tea pour into the cups, eager for the warmth to help him through a cool night. He picks up a cup, almost shivering from the sudden heat versus the drafty interior. Finally. This'll soothe body and soul. He takes a long sip, the hot tea warming his body from its very core. "Yes," the Serranborn says, nodding in agreement with Silja. "I thank you for your hospitality. I look forward to working together."

He buries his face within the cup, steam hitting his somewhat chilly nose. After another sip, he looks up towards Cece. "You must have many bold plans. It will no doubt take much work to fulfill them, but I am hopeful that they will be worth it."

[Namelessjake]

Hopefully there will be bedrooms. It would be nice not to have to keep finding inns to stay at, Eirlian thinks a Cece talks of her plans for the building.

After Silja and Naji pour themselves a cup of tea, Eirlian hesitates not wanting to cut in front of anyone else. After a moment of no one else going for the tea pot she steps forward and pours herself a cup.

She returns to her seat before taking a sip. "Yes it's very nice," she says adding her compliments to the pile. "I'm sure this place will become quite the venue," she says. "I've played in some of the city's nicer inns but somewhere dedicated to performances will be something else," she adds, before taking another sip of the tea.

[Fialova]

"Oh yes, many plans," Cece responds with a grin as some of the newcomers mention their future venue. "There is much to fix and much more to build anew to make this place into my vision."

"Well that's good," Felsi responds. "Gives me lots to do while this other lot practices their music. Maybe the sound will inspire the timbers to stand tall for years to come."

"Maybe," Cece continues with a light chuckle. "I can tell you now, before much work can begin we will need materials, and for that we will need coin. We have contributed what we can already, and done a little work on our own that I can show you in the morning, but my hope is we can find willing donors around town in time. Until then we will need to accept work for pay, and I've already secured a few jobs." She pauses to take a sip from her tea, placing it back on its saucer once finished before looking back to you all eagerly.

"Tell me, mes nouveaux amis, do any of you have much experience at, eh... fighting? Is this the word? If so, that will certainly open up more opportunities for work."

[greysigil]

Rea grabs an unclaimed cup of tea and listens to the others, sipping on it gingerly. Hm, asides from mundane repairs, what could this place use? Many modern works of performance art are written down and documented, such as plays or sheet music, I believe. Maybe a record hall or miniature library would do well. They start to relax, both a gut feeling about everyone here and the tea. They take a moment to savor it, relishing the bitter notes.

They look at Naji for a second longer than the others, noticing the chill run through his body. He said he was from Crescent Bluff, I wonder how recently he left. He seems less acclimated to the cooler air than I; I cannot blame him there though: the first time I left the desert was quite a shock, both in temperature and culture.


They perk up at Felsi's comment. "Can music actually do that to cut wood?" They ask, after Cece has finished, with an edge of excitement in their voice. "If I were at the Library I could look it up, but we are a little far afield for that." They add, a hint of melancholy creeping into the mixture of emotions brewing inside of them. They briefly miss the Library, and their family, and it shows in the shadows of their face, but they recover quickly.

They turn back to Cece. "I greatly appreciate all that you have done. If you have work immediately lined up, that would expedite the process. In a similar vein, do you have lodging lined up, or are we to find our own for the night and/or time being?"

They pause and look around sheepishly, they had allowed themselves to ramble longer than they had intended to. They duck their head slightly, and their voice softens again. "I can't say I've been trained in combat itself. I might recall a couple forms from the books I have read, but I don't actually know anything. Whenever danger presented itself my sword always seemed to guide itself where it needed to be, to defend or attack. They pause. "If you're asking if I can handle myself, I believe so. I've made it this far."

[Namelessjake]

Fighting? Does she mean stage combat? Eirlian wonders, although Rea's talk of danger soon dispels her delusions. She does perk up as they ask about lodgings, keen to hear the answer as well.

"I have a sword and Hyrmina, which together do a pretty good job of keeping me safe," she replies, answering Cece's question. Upon hearing her name, Hyrmina lifts her head and looks up at the young half elf, who gives the dog a couple of reassuring pats before Hyrmina settles down again.

"I've never had to actually use the sword though," Eirlian adds sheepishly after a moment.

[ratwizard]

A job already, then, Silja considers, the feeling of purpose giving her relief. Even if it would require working on Cece's behalf to restore this place before we can do any real creative endeavors... Still, that has charm to it. I suppose we'd be building this troupe from the ground up. Peering around the dilapidated hall, she nods. Literally, even.

At the mention of combat, Silja chews at the lining of her cheek. It's a good question. I've trained my voice, but even before... with Laurent? Could I really use it like that again? The thought brings her back to the days with the Aetherial Academy, a whirlwind of two-decade-old memories coursing up through her mind. Yes. I'm sure I could. I have to.

"I'm not sure how I'd fare with traditional weapons, but... my voice," Silja says, looking at Rea for a moment, understanding their own words. "It sounds silly, but there is power in my voice. If danger presented itself to me, I would be able to defend myself. And others, to a degree."

[Scratcherclaw]

Naji feels a slight pang of disappointment as Cece explains their large lack of coin. He brushes it off though, knowing there should never have been an expectation of things being easy. Fame and fortune require a bit of hard work to be worthwhile, right? Nothing worth doing's ever easy. Except entertaining clients, I suppose... A slight smile forms across his face as he thinks fondly of his former line of work, though he quickly conceals it with another sip of his tea.

He's slightly surprised at the question regarding fighting and stops to consider his answer for a moment. He nods, recounting his time at the Harem. "I was given some training in self defense back home, and I could perhaps turn some of my arts into something offensive."

He smirks, setting down his now-finished cup. "I have developed some skills in the manipulation of fire, after all." The flame can be a source of beauty as well as a source of destruction. It shall be of use.

[BartNL]

Stian takes a sip of his beverage. And listens attentively to his new companions.
"My fighting days are over I am afraid You should have seen me thirty years ago, ha. But I can still take of myself better than most." Suddenly a weapon appears into Stians hand, an exotic looking curved blade the of end of which is shaped somewhat similar to an axe-head. "Behold, Sandcarver". Stian trusts the weapon into the air, and the weapon starts to glow and spark. Then the weapon disappears as suddenly as it appeared.
"This should be proof of my abilities." Stian says, before taking another sip.

[ratwizard]

Silja's eyebrows raise as Stian thrusts his exotic blade forward. Convinced, she smiles. So the old dwarf hasn't been telling tales. Or if he is, he tells them better than most. There's power in either reality.

"It's beautiful," she admits, looking over Sandcarver with foreign eyes. When it disappears, she lets out a single, sharp chuckle. He has both style and substance.

[Scratcherclaw]

Sandcarver? But why would one carve in sand? A million more grains would quickly fill in whatever you carve, the Serranborn thinks, confused about the weapon's name. His eyes widen as the weapon glows, thinking back to similar weapons used for showmanship and entertainment in the night markets of Crescent Bluff. He blinks and it's gone. He blinks again, staring at the dwarf's empty hand before realization hits. "Your weapon is... real? Yet also not? How peculiar..."

[Fialova]

Felsi lets out a snort laugh at Rea's response to her joke, the woman not expecting anyone to take her jest so seriously. "Naw, I was just joking," she responds to them, after the laughter subsides. "But wouldn't it be nice? If it did work like that, you lot would be the perfect people to keep around for construction."

"That is one goal, yes," Angie responds, at their question regarding lodging. "Should any of you be lacking a place to sleep you are certainly welcome to do so here, though no one is required to if they have a home already. One of the floors will contain bedrooms for guild members who need or want one, but right now that is still on the roster of things to fix up. Until then, you would just camp out here by the fire."

"How grand, you all seem much better at it than me," Cece says, once the others all mention their prowess - great or small - in combat. "Very good, I will keep this in mind when looking for more promising tasks to bring in coin." The woman moves around from the crate to the center of the room once more, before speaking again, this time slightly more formally, as she had been when you first arrived.

"I am so glad to meet all of you, and I do not know your other plans for this lovely evening. If you have places to go, please, do not let me keep you too late. In the morning we can meet back here to begin our wonderful new partnership. However, any who seek to stay to get to know one another, or who would prefer to lodge in this place for the evening, you are certainly free to do so."

OOC

[SHOW]

At this point what happens next is mostly up to you guys. If everyone wants to stick around to RP for a bit we can continue doing so on this thread, until we reach a point where a number of people have left. Otherwise, any who desire to do so can RP the remaining events of the evening, such as heading home, or striking up conversations with specific other recruits. I can then advance to the morning gathering when people are ready.

[Namelessjake]

Wow, I wonder if all Dwarves have weapons like that. Bertrinn didn't as far I know, but then maybe he just never showed it to me, Eirlian thinks, as she looks over Stian's blade with wonderment.

At least it's sheltered in here, she thinks as Angie mentions camping by the fire, well aware her pockets are empty of any money with which to rent a room at an inn.

"We'll be staying here tonight," she announces, looking around the others to see what their plans are. I hope someone else is staying, I'd rather not be alone in this drafty old building. I wonder if they're staying here as well? She thinks, looking at their hosts.

[ratwizard]

Silja looks around the dilapidated chamber, frowning softly as Eirlian volunteers to spend the night. I wonder if she has anywhere else to go, she considers. I'm lucky I do, or I'd be right here with her.

"I have a room I've rented for a few nights," Silja admits. "But I think that in the long run, having quarters here sounds splendid. It's not cheap, living here in Fort Sakura."

She steps over toward the couch, taking a seat next to Eirlian. "I think I'll stay for a bit, though. It'd be nice to know some of you better now that we'll be working closely for some time."

[Scratcherclaw]

Naji's mind wanders at the mention of bedrooms being constructed in the guild, thinking of his own living arrangements. It would be nice to be free of Ciro, though it is not as if he's here much. But still... The longer I stay, the more he may view me as a possession. He lets out a quiet sigh, deciding not to dwell on it too much just yet.

"I have a home here, but..." He tries to choose his words carefully. "It is a complicated arrangement. In time, it would be nice to have a place of my own here."

As the others announce their plans for the night, Naji looks around, frowning as Eirlian mentions spending the whole night there. I hope she won't be spending the night here by herself. Maybe I should too? But it'll be so chilly... His mind fights back and forth. "I will stay for a time as well. I'm sure there are new friends to be made and stories to share," the Serranborn says with a wide smile. I can always decide later.

[BartNL]

Since I don't have gold to spare, staying here is the wise thing. yes. hmm. "I'd love to take the opportunity to explore this old building and to stay the night after. This old building and I have something in common; we have many stories to tell to those willing to listen. Do you mind if I help myself?" Stian starts to look around the room for items that can be crafted into a light source. Let's look for a light first.

OOC

[SHOW]

15(1d20) +10 = 25
perception to search for items that can be crafted into a light source

[greysigil]

Rea's eyes light up like stars at the dwarf's weapon, and almost vibrate until they can talk again. "Oh!! Mine does that too! Do you want to see?" They ask, but without waiting for a response they are already up and stepping into an open space away from everyone. "I can't call mine on command like that, but I can do-- They set their feet, and do a quick twirl, the instant when their sword appeared in their hand lost in the flowing clothes. "--this!" They hold the sword to the light, before doing a basic flourish and switching to a backhanded grip, so the blade is along their arm and less likely to accidentally hurt someone. The blade is a dull brass color that looks like it has weathered a thousand desert suns and elegantly curved, where the hilt is a polished ivory. It's difficult to tell if it is actual ivory, or just the same color.

Then the offer hits them, and they blush even deeper and check their coin pouch.

Nothing.

Well, I can't be the only one here who has stayed in worse. Seems a safe bet, considering how they reacted. They think, before responding out loud. "I would be amenable to staying here for the night, it saves me needing to find an audience to sponsor my room and board.

They flourish their sword again, disappearing as quickly as it appeared, and they sit back down and pick their tea back up, burying their face in the cup for a second to recompose themselves.

[ratwizard]

Silja smiles at Rea's performance, noting the beautiful blade. I wonder if it is more durable or shaper than steel, or if it is only ceremonial, she considers, before noticing the dwarf begin to pore through the chamber.

"Stian, are you searching for anything in particular? Perhaps I can help," Silja offers, stepping alongside him. It's awfully dark around here. I wonder how long this guild has lain dormant. Since the Fall of Andor?