Post by Lucky on Aug 6, 2022 21:42:55 GMT
Co-written with the awesome Nakia
Continues immediately after the events of Murder She Read
The sun is setting over Fort Ettin, casting a golden hour glow over the pink stone walls. Several weeks after the invasion, the fort has returned to something of its regular self.
Two tabaxi warriors enter the Great Hall. The older, velvety blue-grey, finely dressed Lucky, and the younger, leaner Nakia, tan-coloured with fine brown speckles on his coat.
After a curious and tragic visit to the Feywild, the elder cat seems to have sensed a lingering concern in Nakia’s heart, and leads him by a heavy yet gentle paw through the large stone hall to find a table. The younger cat has visited a few times for quiet meals alone since arriving here.
Lucky leads to one of the tables before going to the “bar” to request a bottle of wine, or as the cheerful tabaxi has called it, “a bottle of fine vintage”.
One of the tabards delivers a dark green bottle to their table, uncorks it, and pours a sample. Lucky picks up the glass, inhales the vapours, takes a sip. He nods in satisfaction to the wisp of air draped in a red cloth, which pours two glasses and then departs.
Nakia gives a careful glance at the glass of scarlet wine that the regal tabaxi has requested, the events of previous day and night still dwelling upon his mind.
Lucky raises his glass to Nakia with a grin. “Nakia, it was a delight to meet a fellow tabaxi. And I must say I enjoyed working with you today. What a terrible tragedy. I only hope poor François receives the help he needs to manage his affliction. So tell me…” Lucky takes a draft and then sets his glass down. “Where do you hail from, and what has brought you to Fort Ettin?”
Nakia stares at the wine as it ripples in Lucky’s glass, its colour and movement taking him back to a vision back to many years past… When he left the shores of his desert homeland, the golden sands and red sun-stained sea but a vague distant memory. “I am from across the sea… I left my home many years ago and have been… Travelling…” He gives the elder cat a small smile, as if an afterthought to his response.
Lucky nods. “Ah. I lived the nomadic lifestyle myself, back in the day. Always appreciated how it broadens one’s horizons. Ever passed through Waterdeep? That’s where my estates are.”
“I do not know this place,” the speckled cat responds with a small shake of his head. “My people are… were… simple folk. The people here… Their lifestyles and… ‘customs’ are… strange.” He says the final word with the smile leaving his face, as if appearing to be recalling something unsettling.
“Well, Waterdeep is a truly cosmopolitan gem of a city. Brimming with arts, knowledge, trade… the largest and grandest city in northern Faerûn. If you appreciate the urban way of life, you’re certain to find something you like there. There are some magnificent jewellers and craftspeople, for a start.” Lucky leans back in his chair, idly swilling his wine glass. “And did your vocation bring you here? Or did you just think to try something new?”
Nakia thinks deeply, staring into his own glass for a long time, a paw raising to gently finger the totem that hangs from a simple bead necklace at his throat, a simple brown clay form resembling a young cat figure. “Yes… work,” he says finally, his hand drifting from the totem to then reach for his glass, which he extends with a bow of his head in Lucky’s direction. “Mow,” he says, before taking a drink.
“Well, plenty of it here,” the older cat observes wryly, studying the reticent young tabaxi sitting before him. “Was today the first time you’ve met the rest of our group? I couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… bemused by some of their talents, once or twice this afternoon.”
Nakia replaces his glass to the table, his fingered pads fitted carefully around its elegant neck. “The elder one of our group, did she really..bring back the spirit of the lost girl?” His voice is low, his eyes staring unfocused at the remaining blood red wine in his glass, his fingers tightening around the neck of his glass, as if clutching it for support. “Or was it just some..‘trickery’?”
“Hmm,” Lucky says, twisting his signet ring absently. “To be perfectly honest, all magic is trickery as far as I’m concerned. I’ve never fully trusted it. But I’ve seen a lot of extraordinary phenomena in my time, and my life is far richer for it. People who channel power from the weave, from the world’s ley lines, from draconic or other fabulous heritages, from the divine power of gods, from the Fey realm, and many other planes of existence. Magic comes in many forms and to me, someone who can reach to the other side of the curtain between the mortal realm and the afterlife, as Boosya did… it certainly is just another form of trickery. But as for whether it’s for good or ill… I’ve learned to simply work on instinct: do I trust the person casting the spell?”
He stares thoughtfully into space. “You were wondering what was happening with that poor child...My understanding is that her soul had already freely departed into the next life, and that Boosya was merely channelling an animating spirit. I’m a poet, not a theologian, so what that all means is for each person to figure out for themselves. Perhaps only the child herself can truly say. But you could do worse than to start with asking Boosya herself what her magic is all about.” His face becomes soft and nostalgic. “She’s an absolute sweetheart. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to explain. Does that help satisfy your curiosity, young one?”
Nakia sits for a long time, thinking over Lucky’s words, his tall ears flat against his head, adding to his pondering demeanour. He eventually gives out a small breath, as if the start of a response, ears lifting, before… The words suddenly stall in his throat, and slowly his ears fall flat once more to their pondering position.
Lucky watches the pensive young tabaxi thinking it through with a wry amusement. He smiles gently and knowingly through the silence and gives his companion space to ponder.
The speckled cat withdraws his hand from his unfinished wine glass as he stands, before reaching into a pouch in his robes and taking one of the large gold coins he had been given as his share of the payment for the day’s work. He places it upon the table next to his glass. “Thank you for the wine… and your wisdom. Mow,” he states with a press-handed bow to the elder tabaxi, before slowly making his way towards the doors of the hall.
Lucky responds to Nakia’s farewell bow with an incline of the head and watches the young cat leave.
Raising an amused eyebrow at his companion’s taciturn manner, Lucky pulls out a notebook, but catches the eye of another adventurer across the great hall. A tiefling whom he recognises, though he doesn’t know from where or when. A handsome fellow with a dashing five-o'clock shadow, the man is sitting alone, absently flicking a purple light cantrip between one hand and the other, waiting for something to do. Lucky nods and raises his glass in a greeting. The tiefling smiles back.
Lucky returns to his notes. Shortly after, a shadow falls across his table. He looks up to see the tiefling standing across from him, holding an opened bottle of wine and two glasses. “Time for one more?” the younger man asks with a grin.
“Always,” Lucky replies, a playful spark in his eyes.
Continues immediately after the events of Murder She Read
The sun is setting over Fort Ettin, casting a golden hour glow over the pink stone walls. Several weeks after the invasion, the fort has returned to something of its regular self.
Two tabaxi warriors enter the Great Hall. The older, velvety blue-grey, finely dressed Lucky, and the younger, leaner Nakia, tan-coloured with fine brown speckles on his coat.
After a curious and tragic visit to the Feywild, the elder cat seems to have sensed a lingering concern in Nakia’s heart, and leads him by a heavy yet gentle paw through the large stone hall to find a table. The younger cat has visited a few times for quiet meals alone since arriving here.
Lucky leads to one of the tables before going to the “bar” to request a bottle of wine, or as the cheerful tabaxi has called it, “a bottle of fine vintage”.
One of the tabards delivers a dark green bottle to their table, uncorks it, and pours a sample. Lucky picks up the glass, inhales the vapours, takes a sip. He nods in satisfaction to the wisp of air draped in a red cloth, which pours two glasses and then departs.
Nakia gives a careful glance at the glass of scarlet wine that the regal tabaxi has requested, the events of previous day and night still dwelling upon his mind.
Lucky raises his glass to Nakia with a grin. “Nakia, it was a delight to meet a fellow tabaxi. And I must say I enjoyed working with you today. What a terrible tragedy. I only hope poor François receives the help he needs to manage his affliction. So tell me…” Lucky takes a draft and then sets his glass down. “Where do you hail from, and what has brought you to Fort Ettin?”
Nakia stares at the wine as it ripples in Lucky’s glass, its colour and movement taking him back to a vision back to many years past… When he left the shores of his desert homeland, the golden sands and red sun-stained sea but a vague distant memory. “I am from across the sea… I left my home many years ago and have been… Travelling…” He gives the elder cat a small smile, as if an afterthought to his response.
Lucky nods. “Ah. I lived the nomadic lifestyle myself, back in the day. Always appreciated how it broadens one’s horizons. Ever passed through Waterdeep? That’s where my estates are.”
“I do not know this place,” the speckled cat responds with a small shake of his head. “My people are… were… simple folk. The people here… Their lifestyles and… ‘customs’ are… strange.” He says the final word with the smile leaving his face, as if appearing to be recalling something unsettling.
“Well, Waterdeep is a truly cosmopolitan gem of a city. Brimming with arts, knowledge, trade… the largest and grandest city in northern Faerûn. If you appreciate the urban way of life, you’re certain to find something you like there. There are some magnificent jewellers and craftspeople, for a start.” Lucky leans back in his chair, idly swilling his wine glass. “And did your vocation bring you here? Or did you just think to try something new?”
Nakia thinks deeply, staring into his own glass for a long time, a paw raising to gently finger the totem that hangs from a simple bead necklace at his throat, a simple brown clay form resembling a young cat figure. “Yes… work,” he says finally, his hand drifting from the totem to then reach for his glass, which he extends with a bow of his head in Lucky’s direction. “Mow,” he says, before taking a drink.
“Well, plenty of it here,” the older cat observes wryly, studying the reticent young tabaxi sitting before him. “Was today the first time you’ve met the rest of our group? I couldn’t help but notice you seemed a little… bemused by some of their talents, once or twice this afternoon.”
Nakia replaces his glass to the table, his fingered pads fitted carefully around its elegant neck. “The elder one of our group, did she really..bring back the spirit of the lost girl?” His voice is low, his eyes staring unfocused at the remaining blood red wine in his glass, his fingers tightening around the neck of his glass, as if clutching it for support. “Or was it just some..‘trickery’?”
“Hmm,” Lucky says, twisting his signet ring absently. “To be perfectly honest, all magic is trickery as far as I’m concerned. I’ve never fully trusted it. But I’ve seen a lot of extraordinary phenomena in my time, and my life is far richer for it. People who channel power from the weave, from the world’s ley lines, from draconic or other fabulous heritages, from the divine power of gods, from the Fey realm, and many other planes of existence. Magic comes in many forms and to me, someone who can reach to the other side of the curtain between the mortal realm and the afterlife, as Boosya did… it certainly is just another form of trickery. But as for whether it’s for good or ill… I’ve learned to simply work on instinct: do I trust the person casting the spell?”
He stares thoughtfully into space. “You were wondering what was happening with that poor child...My understanding is that her soul had already freely departed into the next life, and that Boosya was merely channelling an animating spirit. I’m a poet, not a theologian, so what that all means is for each person to figure out for themselves. Perhaps only the child herself can truly say. But you could do worse than to start with asking Boosya herself what her magic is all about.” His face becomes soft and nostalgic. “She’s an absolute sweetheart. I’m sure she’d be more than happy to explain. Does that help satisfy your curiosity, young one?”
Nakia sits for a long time, thinking over Lucky’s words, his tall ears flat against his head, adding to his pondering demeanour. He eventually gives out a small breath, as if the start of a response, ears lifting, before… The words suddenly stall in his throat, and slowly his ears fall flat once more to their pondering position.
Lucky watches the pensive young tabaxi thinking it through with a wry amusement. He smiles gently and knowingly through the silence and gives his companion space to ponder.
The speckled cat withdraws his hand from his unfinished wine glass as he stands, before reaching into a pouch in his robes and taking one of the large gold coins he had been given as his share of the payment for the day’s work. He places it upon the table next to his glass. “Thank you for the wine… and your wisdom. Mow,” he states with a press-handed bow to the elder tabaxi, before slowly making his way towards the doors of the hall.
Lucky responds to Nakia’s farewell bow with an incline of the head and watches the young cat leave.
Raising an amused eyebrow at his companion’s taciturn manner, Lucky pulls out a notebook, but catches the eye of another adventurer across the great hall. A tiefling whom he recognises, though he doesn’t know from where or when. A handsome fellow with a dashing five-o'clock shadow, the man is sitting alone, absently flicking a purple light cantrip between one hand and the other, waiting for something to do. Lucky nods and raises his glass in a greeting. The tiefling smiles back.
Lucky returns to his notes. Shortly after, a shadow falls across his table. He looks up to see the tiefling standing across from him, holding an opened bottle of wine and two glasses. “Time for one more?” the younger man asks with a grin.
“Always,” Lucky replies, a playful spark in his eyes.