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Journal of the Souls of Legend (completed)
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<blockquote data-quote="Nthal" data-source="post: 7543815" data-attributes="member: 6971069"><p><strong>Dressing to Kill</strong></p><p></p><p style="text-align: center"><strong>Dressing to Kill</strong></p> <p style="text-align: center"></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>Sigil is a dirty place. The rain stains everything with brimstone, discoloring cloth and flesh alike. It’s why we wear leather if we can as it doesn’t stain. The Lower Ward and Hive will have standing muddy puddles of filthy water. The worst is the Ditch, an open river of filth and muck where dead bodies are tossed, along with scraps from kitchens and night water. </em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em></em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>But every so often, even the Ditch gets flushed from the waters of Oceanus. And so, it becomes a holiday, where everyone dives into the clear, sweet water and cleans up a bit.</em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em></em></p> <p style="text-align: center"><em>And some of us clean up better than others. </em></p><p></p><p>Sleep had finally overcome me, and the next day began. We wandered out from the “Lusty Bard” and headed silently towards the middle tier of Yartar. I still felt weak, even after some bread and cheese in my stomach. I was just thankful I wasn’t retching anymore. </p><p></p><p>“So…I guess we need to ask some questions,” Iesa said with a smirk. “So where do we start?”</p><p></p><p>“The guards,” Daneath said. “They tend hang out together in most towns. With some drinks, I can find out who is working where. Find out more about the party from their perspective.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, Foggle can look at the manor from above. See what we can learn on how to get out and in,” Beepu commented, almost to himself.</p><p></p><p>“I bet our tailor will know something,” I said. “Guests, tidbits about the party.” </p><p></p><p>“And I want to ask the locals about the Night itself. What really happens,” said Iesa. “Because, we’re going to need to get out somehow during the night.”</p><p></p><p>“Guess we should split up then,” I said. “I don’t know if we should all go the tailor at once, but I’m going to need to go first.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?” asked Iesa.</p><p></p><p>I looked him in the eyes, “Because, it takes longer to tailor a dress than a suitcoat. We can meet back at the “Bard” later the evening. Spire’s Ward.</p><p></p><p>“Righ…what?” Daneath asked.</p><p></p><p>“Good luck,” as I walked off towards Lark street. </p><p> </p><p>Truth be told, a moment to myself was nice. Being cooped up with three men was trying. Like everything else lately, I tried not to make a big deal of it, but I only now realized that privacy was something I missed. </p><p>Not that I really had any now. All through the market, the gate through the middle tier I felt and heard it. The stares, the whispers. I really stood out here. In Sigil, I would rarely get a second look or a comment. But in Yartar, it made me self-conscious. Well, more so than normal since arriving on the Prime. </p><p> </p><p>Eventually after a bit of looking around on Lark, I spotted the cheese shop. And then I looked across the street. The sign was clear enough; a needle and thread. Striding over to the shop, I took a deep breath and opened the door.</p><p></p><p>The sound of a bell rang as I stepped inside. The curtains were closed, and candles lit the room. It was crowded though, full of dress forms. Some had coats, others had dresses, all in various states of construction. The shop was cluttered with racks, bolts of cloth and ribbon and trim. Buried in the back was a counter where a young male human was focusing on mending a rip in a seam in a waistcoat. His hand shaking ever so slightly as he worked to sew a straight chain stitch.</p><p></p><p>Without looking up he muttered, “Who are you picking up for?”</p><p></p><p>I slowly walked to him speaking, “I need a dress, and I was directed here.”</p><p></p><p>“Ma’am, it’s a bit late to start looking for one. My master is already swamped with last minute work.” He said, without looking up.</p><p></p><p>I had reached him, and I lifted his chin forcing his gaze upwards and away from his project. The look of annoyance quickly melted into that familiar wide-eyed look.</p><p></p><p>“I…uh…well…I…really…the Master…he can’t,”</p><p></p><p>I frowned, and with some regret said, “I’m sorry, but the Crimson Star said that this shop can help me find one.”</p><p>At the mention of the Crimson Star, color drained from his face. “Of…of…course. I’ll fetch the Master at once,” and he put down the waistcoat and scrambled towards a doorway that led deeper inside, calling out “Master Gyffor…Master Gyffor.”</p><p></p><p>Clearly the Crimson Star was a known quantity here, and a feared one. I just hoped not to scare the boy too much. Soon he returned with an older man in tow. “What is the meaning of…” as he came out to talk with me, his eyes grew wider. “Oh…my,”</p><p></p><p>I smile apologetically, “Sorry, to disturb you, but I was told that you could help me with a dress.”</p><p></p><p>“Yes…a courier rudely woke me up last night to tell me that I needed to outfit out four of you. But I wasn’t expecting a…”</p><p></p><p>“A…what?”</p><p></p><p>“An angel such as you. I was expecting four men actually.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, the other three men will be around later,” and I extended my hand. “I thought you would need a little more time with me. You can call me…”</p><p></p><p>“No…no. I don’t want to know, but…” and he bent slightly to kiss my hand to my surprise. “…It is my pleasure to serve you. Please, come on back, and let me see what I can use to start with.” And still holding my hand, he gently led me into the rear of the shop.</p><p></p><p>“Myford, if the other three show up, see if you can stitch them up in a coat and breeches. I will not want to be disturbed unless it is vital.”</p><p></p><p>“Oh Myford, one is a gnome by the way.” I call back trying to be helpful.</p><p></p><p>Myford nodded, “I better start digging in the children’s bin then. We don’t have much for small folk here.”</p><p></p><p>Master Gyffor led me into the back and I got a better look at him. He wasn’t ancient, but he was certainly old. His papery skin pale and spotted. He had a full head of silver hair and was clean shaven, and as he turned to look at me with warm brown eyes.</p><p></p><p>“Let me look at you my dear…Oh my,” as he lifted my arms until they were shoulder height. “You are…lovely. I hope I can find something to match your qualities.”</p><p></p><p>I can feel myself blush in the cheeks as they grew warm. “Thank you…is there something I can do to help?”</p><p>“Help…no. Not unless you can light some candles for my eyes. You being here helps enough. Allows me to pay off a debt.”</p><p></p><p>“Well,” and I reach within and the warm rush flows up my back as I summon a warm yellow light for a nearby sconce. “I hope that helps.”</p><p></p><p>Gyffor blinked as the light flooded the room. “Yes…that…that will do. My, were those…wings?”</p><p></p><p>I shrugged, “You aren’t far off in calling me an angel, but that’s as real as the wings get.” </p><p></p><p>“I see…yes yes,” and he started opening a pair of trunks in the back and started lifting out material from them. “I know I have it somewhere in here…” he muttered, throwing material about.</p><p></p><p>I started to look around to keep busy as he dug through the chests. “Well you are helping me with a debt as well. I’m going to guess mine isn’t as cheap as yours.”</p><p></p><p>The old man sighed a moment, “Perhaps. I can’t say that I regret the reason. Just perhaps the means. No no, not here…where would… Perhaps the other one.” And he moved to a large armoire off to the side. </p><p></p><p>“So, can I ask you some questions?”</p><p></p><p>“Hmmm, I suppose. No no…not here either,” he said as he threw out cloth and fabric out from the armoire. “Perhaps…the chest here.”</p><p></p><p>“So, what should I expect at the party?”</p><p></p><p>“Oh, I’ve never been myself…what is that? Oh! That’s where I put that baldric! Will need to remember that... But, most of the high-born houses will be there. I’m told that each of the galas are the same though. A lot of drink…Why am I keeping this? Maybe the boy can use it for practice. The Waterbaroness wanders around interacting with notables from families. Of course, most have to go through Vicam or that new captain…Arkhan to approach her. Last several ones she’s been a bit standoffish I heard. But what do I know?”</p><p></p><p>“Who’s Vicam?”</p><p></p><p>More cloth is tossed from the chest as he continued to dig. “Vicam? He’s her current seneschal. Manages the house and house business. Only been here since last several winters as I recall. I don’t care for him much. Seems a bit shifty. He tried to kick me out of my shop here in fact.”</p><p></p><p>“Why?”</p><p></p><p>“No clue. But finding a new place in the mid-tier is well…difficult. Would have lost a lot of clients if I was in the lower tier. I suppose the debt was worth it then. Ah HAH!” and with that, he pulled out a carefully folded bundle of dark cloth. I couldn’t see much of it as he brought it out.</p><p></p><p>“I had started this for my daughter for a different gala many winters ago,” and he unfolded it carefully and held it up to the light by the shoulders. I gasped. I had never seen a dress like it before. Black cloth with what appeared to be glass crystals sewn into it. It was like looking at a night sky. </p><p></p><p>“That’s…beautiful. But I couldn’t.”</p><p></p><p>“No…please. My daughter never got to wear it…it will suit you.”</p><p></p><p>I was fumbling for words, “If you insist. Why didn’t she wear it?”</p><p></p><p>“Ah, she was taken by a sickness a moon before one of the galas,” he said with a note of bitterness. But, you appear to be her shape and form. And…I would rather see it used, than rot in a chest.”</p><p></p><p>“If it helps honor her memory. Are you going to want it back?”</p><p></p><p>He shook his head, “No. I don’t pretend to understand the Crimson Star, but for whatever reason you need it, I can’t pretend that your need is well…”</p><p></p><p>“It isn’t. I don’t want to dirty your memory of it.”</p><p></p><p>“No. You can’t. If you are indeed an angel, then perhaps my daughter can guide your path.”</p><p>I bowed my head down and after a pause replied, “Well, I can use all the help I can get.”</p><p>The tailor nodded. “Well…you’re going to need to put this on. There’s a small closet over there you can change in.”</p><p></p><p>I nod and take the dress from him. It’s light and the material feels like silk, with a fine mesh netting in panels across the torso and sleeves. I stare at it dumbly for a moment and look at the tailor helplessly.</p><p></p><p>“I…uh. I’ve never worn a dress. How do I put it on?”</p><p></p><p>In the end, one of the neighbors found a young girl to help me out with the intricacies of formal dresses. I had heard each of my other adams come in and out all the while I stood and was used as a form to customize the dress. The tailor was good; never once was stuck with the needle as he made the changes. Fortunately, I was only a shade smaller than his daughter, which meant taking it in slightly. But, while that made things easier overall, I was still standing most of the day, and it was well after sundown by the time I finally walked down into the “Lusty Bard.”</p><p></p><p>My adams were at a table already drinking, and they spotted and waved me over.</p><p></p><p>“You know, I got you three ales already, expecting you to walk in. Where have you been?” Iesa asked. “You really shouldn’t order so…<hic>…much.”</p><p></p><p>“The same place you were in the morning, where he,” pointing at Beepu “was at mid-day, and he,” pointing at Daneath “was in the afternoon.”</p><p></p><p>“Doing <hic> what?”</p><p></p><p>“Standing…sitting for a couple of minutes…standing…I think I had a long discussion about silks…then more standing. What in Baator do you think I was doing!?! I was getting pinched, prodded, poked, and squeezed all day. I just got out and I’m famished.”</p><p></p><p>“Does it really take that long?” Daneath asked.</p><p></p><p>I shrugged, “I admit, today was a day of learning. I knew it was complicated…but apparently stylish dresses are something else. I think I have a better understanding of how to get Daneath into his tin, than I do to put on a dress.”</p><p></p><p>“You mean you have never worn one before?” Beepu asked me with his head cocked to one side and passed me a trencher with some type of stew.</p><p></p><p>“I was sodding poor growing up, and doing dirty chores and work is easier in breeches. So why would I need a dress?” and I bit into the trencher, tearing off a chunk with my teeth.</p><p></p><p>“Just one of the boys then,” Daneath commented.</p><p></p><p>I thought a moment in between bites, “I suppose. But it’s more practicality. Anyway, we should probably talk in the room before Iesa takes another ale for me.”</p><p></p><p>Everyone nods, and we grab an ale from the taps, and make our way to our private little sanctum. I didn’t really care for it compared to my room in Triboar. But it somehow felt safer by comparison. We all clamber in, and I flop on the bed and immediately start pulling off my boots from my sore feet and started massaging them. </p><p></p><p>“So…we learn anything useful that doesn’t involve cloth?”</p><p></p><p>Daneath chuckled, “That good eh? Well I did find a bar where the guards hang out. After some drinks, got them talking. Sounds like every guard in the town will be somewhere in major buildings. Once the fog starts, they stay where they are and wait for dawn.”</p><p></p><p>“No patrols?” I asked.</p><p></p><p>“Nope. They all have orders to stay out of it and they were dead serious.” He said and took a sip from his ale. “In fact, the fog seems to do what we have been told; if you step into it, you lose your memory.”</p><p></p><p>“Is that it?” I asked.</p><p></p><p>Beepu spoke up, “Yes and it is very strange. Some people have said sometimes they see shadows of people wandering aimlessly. But I heard from a book proprietor that I visited, that the memory loss can be anywhere from the last day, to the last moon.”</p><p></p><p>Iesa whistled, “That would be <hic> problematic. No wonder they don’t <hic> patrol.”</p><p></p><p>“Nope,” said Daneath. “And the manor will have about twenty on staff for the night. Which is not a lot really.”</p><p></p><p>“And no one to cry beef…oh, call for help,” I said.</p><p></p><p>“And nowhere to run to either,” Beepu said. “I had Foggle fly above the Manor. It is not a serious fortification. A ten-foot wall surrounds it and that wall has one gate at the front. It is two floors on the outside. Lots of windows, although that may not help much. There is a garden on one side and the stables for horses are on the other.”</p><p>“It’s not like we have to sneak <hic> in. But that doesn’t tell <hic> us how to get out,” Iesa said. “And even then, <hic> while every place has a party <hic> you can’t really move around.”</p><p></p><p>“What do you mean?” I asked and took a swallow of the bitter ale.</p><p></p><p>“The mid and lower <hic> tier houses share walls. But you <hic> can’t get between blocks without <hic> crossing fog. Some folks tried <hic> to see if you run across the <hic> street, between parties. Doesn’t work. Doesn’t matter if <hic> you hold your breath. Takes moments I heard. But, only <hic> when the fog is fully there. Early evening as <hic> it sets, you have a little <hic> more time, before you <hic> slip off.”</p><p></p><p>“We’ll be stuck there?”</p><p></p><p>“Yep, and I found out <hic> something else. Yartar doesn’t have a proper <hic> sewer.”</p><p>Daneath nodded, “I heard that too. The guards apparently thought about digging tunnels between key buildings. But there is bedrock below, and few buildings even have basements. In fact, this building is the only one in the lower tier that even has one.”</p><p></p><p>“So, no maze of sewer tunnels then. Why only this place?” I asked</p><p></p><p>“Because, a family of dwarves owned it and they were stubborn.” Daneath replied. “Oh and better yet, the guards all want gate duty for the Baroness’ gala. It’s a big deal for them.”</p><p></p><p>“Now why is that?” Beepu asked with his brows knitted in confusion.</p><p></p><p>“Because, they search everyone going in. Women included. Especially the women. They can protest, but then they can’t come in.” Daneath said taking another sip. “They seem to like that part a lot.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, compared to getting dressed that’s…annoying, even looking for blades.”</p><p></p><p>“Not just blades. Looking for pouches, crystals, wands and stuff.”</p><p>Beepu and I exchanged glances and I said, “Wait…they look for spell casting things?”</p><p></p><p>Daneath nodded, “Very explicitly. No spell casting on the grounds…or…”</p><p></p><p>“Or…what?” Beepu asked.</p><p></p><p>“They throw you outside, into the fog.” Daneath said. “No clear reason why, but it has been that way a while. Related to that; no armor either, but most just get sent away, with few exceptions.”</p><p></p><p>“This is getting better and better,” I muttered. “No way out, no armor, no weapons, and no magic. No wonder the Crimson Star wants us to do this for them.”</p><p></p><p>Iesa nodded, “Yeah, this isn’t a <hic> lot to work with.”</p><p></p><p>“Well I was thinking about that. Foggle can drop off some supplies for us near a window or door. There are a couple of exterior doors on the manor and there are a lot of windows.”</p><p></p><p>“Hmmm, might be enough for some pouches and a small blade.” I said thinking.</p><p></p><p>“Also, in the garden, not far from a servant door is a wooden platform. A gazebo. We could hide some gear there in advance,” Noted Beepu.</p><p></p><p>“And somehow at the party slip outside when we can. What did we need to stash?” I asked.</p><p></p><p>“Some weapons ideally. Can’t easily conceal my armor,” Daneath noted. “Your chest piece maybe, but…”</p><p></p><p>“Not with the dress. Well at least the pouches need to be smuggled in so we can use magic,” I said. “I know I could hide a blade and pouches under my dress. But, what about your coats? I didn’t see them in the shop.”</p><p></p><p>“Some room. Daggers sure, maybe <hic> a small sword. Nothing <hic> big.”</p><p></p><p>“Any chance on disguising ourselves as a guard instead?” I asked hopefully, looking for a different angle.</p><p></p><p>“Daneath shook his head, “No. They all know each other, and they don’t wear helms.”</p><p></p><p>“Convenient that we <hic> will be masked then.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, the guards are part of it, but she also has her staff as well,” I said. “Both her seneschal and or her guard captain…what was that name, Eragon?...no Arkhan! They may be a problem in terms of getting close to her.”</p><p></p><p>“I heard about the <hic> same,” agreed Isea. “The only other tidbit I heard was while the Hate <hic> Nights, started appearing only five winters ago, the Waterbaroness’ <hic> parties have been tighter and tighter on <hic>security in the last year or so.”</p><p></p><p>“How many nights have there been?” Daneath asked.</p><p></p><p>“This is the third in this year, which is not common.”</p><p></p><p>“Wonderful. So basically, we have a no plan or path to success and no clear way out. We should just leave and forget this business,” Beepu said in humph.</p><p></p><p>“I would agree,” I started to say, “But, when I was getting my dress, I mentioned the Crimson Star. They were afraid. So was the serving girl last night now that I think of it.”</p><p></p><p>Daneath nodded, “I noticed that. And I asked the guards about the Star, and they really, really didn’t want to talk about them at all. It was like a bad omen to the guards to discuss them.”</p><p></p><p>We all fell silent, with only the occasional hiccup from Iesa. All of us lost in our own thoughts. All struggling with the same question:</p><p></p><p>Are we going to this?</p><p></p><p>“Well,” I said, “I hate to say it…but we probably are going to need to pay the bellmen.”</p><p></p><p>Frowning, Beepu asked, “Why is that Myrai?”</p><p></p><p>“Because refusing means we are deaders already. Yartar and any other nearby ones won’t be safe for us. And heading into the wilds and its dangers is what started this mess. I don’t like it, but I don’t see how we have much of a choice.”</p><p></p><p>“Not really no. We should have never become entangled in local affairs, and should have…done something…different...” Beepu started and trailed off.</p><p></p><p>“Let’s hope the gods have something <hic> in mind for us tomorrow.”</p><p></p><p>“Well, what does that leave for us tomorrow? Final fittings, the invitations, smuggling blades and spell pouches.”</p><p></p><p>We all silently nod. And finally, I said, “Well, it could be worse I guess.”</p><p></p><p>“How?” all three asked.</p><p></p><p>“You all could have to wear dresses.”</p><p></p><p><strong>Session Notes</strong></p><p></p><p>The Eragon/Arakan joke started here. I take all the blame for it, but Arakan's nickname stuck hard. Even the DM, who wrote the campaign got the name stuck in his head and swore at me for it. For the record I'm sorry.</p><p></p><p>Sorta.</p><p></p><p>The other item of note that as a player, the discussion on what to do took far longer than even this treatment was. Lots of die rolls, discussion, plotting etc. Far more time on plotting than actual dialog or roleplaying. This isn't bad, but tracking the number of persuasion / investigation / etc checks while necessary, aren't themselves a compelling story.</p><p></p><p>On a completely different note, was the research on medieval tailoring. This came up as I was working on this section and my wife commented that a male tailor would never work on a dress; it would be a seamstress. This got me thinking, and I started parsing through the history of tailoring. It's a fascinating subject. But what I found is that modern conventions of thinking, don't apply consistently. Tailoring was usually fronted and run by men for the upper classes, but many times women were tailors. But they weren't consistently allowed into the master/apprentice system or even had guild memberships. The only area of tailoring that women did consistently that men did not was children's clothes, and undergarments. But not hose...</p><p></p><p>So which in the end, I changed nothing...but it was a good, if incomplete read.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Nthal, post: 7543815, member: 6971069"] [b]Dressing to Kill[/b] [CENTER][B]Dressing to Kill[/B] [I]Sigil is a dirty place. The rain stains everything with brimstone, discoloring cloth and flesh alike. It’s why we wear leather if we can as it doesn’t stain. The Lower Ward and Hive will have standing muddy puddles of filthy water. The worst is the Ditch, an open river of filth and muck where dead bodies are tossed, along with scraps from kitchens and night water. But every so often, even the Ditch gets flushed from the waters of Oceanus. And so, it becomes a holiday, where everyone dives into the clear, sweet water and cleans up a bit. And some of us clean up better than others. [/I][/CENTER] Sleep had finally overcome me, and the next day began. We wandered out from the “Lusty Bard” and headed silently towards the middle tier of Yartar. I still felt weak, even after some bread and cheese in my stomach. I was just thankful I wasn’t retching anymore. “So…I guess we need to ask some questions,” Iesa said with a smirk. “So where do we start?” “The guards,” Daneath said. “They tend hang out together in most towns. With some drinks, I can find out who is working where. Find out more about the party from their perspective.” “Well, Foggle can look at the manor from above. See what we can learn on how to get out and in,” Beepu commented, almost to himself. “I bet our tailor will know something,” I said. “Guests, tidbits about the party.” “And I want to ask the locals about the Night itself. What really happens,” said Iesa. “Because, we’re going to need to get out somehow during the night.” “Guess we should split up then,” I said. “I don’t know if we should all go the tailor at once, but I’m going to need to go first.” “Why?” asked Iesa. I looked him in the eyes, “Because, it takes longer to tailor a dress than a suitcoat. We can meet back at the “Bard” later the evening. Spire’s Ward. “Righ…what?” Daneath asked. “Good luck,” as I walked off towards Lark street. Truth be told, a moment to myself was nice. Being cooped up with three men was trying. Like everything else lately, I tried not to make a big deal of it, but I only now realized that privacy was something I missed. Not that I really had any now. All through the market, the gate through the middle tier I felt and heard it. The stares, the whispers. I really stood out here. In Sigil, I would rarely get a second look or a comment. But in Yartar, it made me self-conscious. Well, more so than normal since arriving on the Prime. Eventually after a bit of looking around on Lark, I spotted the cheese shop. And then I looked across the street. The sign was clear enough; a needle and thread. Striding over to the shop, I took a deep breath and opened the door. The sound of a bell rang as I stepped inside. The curtains were closed, and candles lit the room. It was crowded though, full of dress forms. Some had coats, others had dresses, all in various states of construction. The shop was cluttered with racks, bolts of cloth and ribbon and trim. Buried in the back was a counter where a young male human was focusing on mending a rip in a seam in a waistcoat. His hand shaking ever so slightly as he worked to sew a straight chain stitch. Without looking up he muttered, “Who are you picking up for?” I slowly walked to him speaking, “I need a dress, and I was directed here.” “Ma’am, it’s a bit late to start looking for one. My master is already swamped with last minute work.” He said, without looking up. I had reached him, and I lifted his chin forcing his gaze upwards and away from his project. The look of annoyance quickly melted into that familiar wide-eyed look. “I…uh…well…I…really…the Master…he can’t,” I frowned, and with some regret said, “I’m sorry, but the Crimson Star said that this shop can help me find one.” At the mention of the Crimson Star, color drained from his face. “Of…of…course. I’ll fetch the Master at once,” and he put down the waistcoat and scrambled towards a doorway that led deeper inside, calling out “Master Gyffor…Master Gyffor.” Clearly the Crimson Star was a known quantity here, and a feared one. I just hoped not to scare the boy too much. Soon he returned with an older man in tow. “What is the meaning of…” as he came out to talk with me, his eyes grew wider. “Oh…my,” I smile apologetically, “Sorry, to disturb you, but I was told that you could help me with a dress.” “Yes…a courier rudely woke me up last night to tell me that I needed to outfit out four of you. But I wasn’t expecting a…” “A…what?” “An angel such as you. I was expecting four men actually.” “Well, the other three men will be around later,” and I extended my hand. “I thought you would need a little more time with me. You can call me…” “No…no. I don’t want to know, but…” and he bent slightly to kiss my hand to my surprise. “…It is my pleasure to serve you. Please, come on back, and let me see what I can use to start with.” And still holding my hand, he gently led me into the rear of the shop. “Myford, if the other three show up, see if you can stitch them up in a coat and breeches. I will not want to be disturbed unless it is vital.” “Oh Myford, one is a gnome by the way.” I call back trying to be helpful. Myford nodded, “I better start digging in the children’s bin then. We don’t have much for small folk here.” Master Gyffor led me into the back and I got a better look at him. He wasn’t ancient, but he was certainly old. His papery skin pale and spotted. He had a full head of silver hair and was clean shaven, and as he turned to look at me with warm brown eyes. “Let me look at you my dear…Oh my,” as he lifted my arms until they were shoulder height. “You are…lovely. I hope I can find something to match your qualities.” I can feel myself blush in the cheeks as they grew warm. “Thank you…is there something I can do to help?” “Help…no. Not unless you can light some candles for my eyes. You being here helps enough. Allows me to pay off a debt.” “Well,” and I reach within and the warm rush flows up my back as I summon a warm yellow light for a nearby sconce. “I hope that helps.” Gyffor blinked as the light flooded the room. “Yes…that…that will do. My, were those…wings?” I shrugged, “You aren’t far off in calling me an angel, but that’s as real as the wings get.” “I see…yes yes,” and he started opening a pair of trunks in the back and started lifting out material from them. “I know I have it somewhere in here…” he muttered, throwing material about. I started to look around to keep busy as he dug through the chests. “Well you are helping me with a debt as well. I’m going to guess mine isn’t as cheap as yours.” The old man sighed a moment, “Perhaps. I can’t say that I regret the reason. Just perhaps the means. No no, not here…where would… Perhaps the other one.” And he moved to a large armoire off to the side. “So, can I ask you some questions?” “Hmmm, I suppose. No no…not here either,” he said as he threw out cloth and fabric out from the armoire. “Perhaps…the chest here.” “So, what should I expect at the party?” “Oh, I’ve never been myself…what is that? Oh! That’s where I put that baldric! Will need to remember that... But, most of the high-born houses will be there. I’m told that each of the galas are the same though. A lot of drink…Why am I keeping this? Maybe the boy can use it for practice. The Waterbaroness wanders around interacting with notables from families. Of course, most have to go through Vicam or that new captain…Arkhan to approach her. Last several ones she’s been a bit standoffish I heard. But what do I know?” “Who’s Vicam?” More cloth is tossed from the chest as he continued to dig. “Vicam? He’s her current seneschal. Manages the house and house business. Only been here since last several winters as I recall. I don’t care for him much. Seems a bit shifty. He tried to kick me out of my shop here in fact.” “Why?” “No clue. But finding a new place in the mid-tier is well…difficult. Would have lost a lot of clients if I was in the lower tier. I suppose the debt was worth it then. Ah HAH!” and with that, he pulled out a carefully folded bundle of dark cloth. I couldn’t see much of it as he brought it out. “I had started this for my daughter for a different gala many winters ago,” and he unfolded it carefully and held it up to the light by the shoulders. I gasped. I had never seen a dress like it before. Black cloth with what appeared to be glass crystals sewn into it. It was like looking at a night sky. “That’s…beautiful. But I couldn’t.” “No…please. My daughter never got to wear it…it will suit you.” I was fumbling for words, “If you insist. Why didn’t she wear it?” “Ah, she was taken by a sickness a moon before one of the galas,” he said with a note of bitterness. But, you appear to be her shape and form. And…I would rather see it used, than rot in a chest.” “If it helps honor her memory. Are you going to want it back?” He shook his head, “No. I don’t pretend to understand the Crimson Star, but for whatever reason you need it, I can’t pretend that your need is well…” “It isn’t. I don’t want to dirty your memory of it.” “No. You can’t. If you are indeed an angel, then perhaps my daughter can guide your path.” I bowed my head down and after a pause replied, “Well, I can use all the help I can get.” The tailor nodded. “Well…you’re going to need to put this on. There’s a small closet over there you can change in.” I nod and take the dress from him. It’s light and the material feels like silk, with a fine mesh netting in panels across the torso and sleeves. I stare at it dumbly for a moment and look at the tailor helplessly. “I…uh. I’ve never worn a dress. How do I put it on?” In the end, one of the neighbors found a young girl to help me out with the intricacies of formal dresses. I had heard each of my other adams come in and out all the while I stood and was used as a form to customize the dress. The tailor was good; never once was stuck with the needle as he made the changes. Fortunately, I was only a shade smaller than his daughter, which meant taking it in slightly. But, while that made things easier overall, I was still standing most of the day, and it was well after sundown by the time I finally walked down into the “Lusty Bard.” My adams were at a table already drinking, and they spotted and waved me over. “You know, I got you three ales already, expecting you to walk in. Where have you been?” Iesa asked. “You really shouldn’t order so…<hic>…much.” “The same place you were in the morning, where he,” pointing at Beepu “was at mid-day, and he,” pointing at Daneath “was in the afternoon.” “Doing <hic> what?” “Standing…sitting for a couple of minutes…standing…I think I had a long discussion about silks…then more standing. What in Baator do you think I was doing!?! I was getting pinched, prodded, poked, and squeezed all day. I just got out and I’m famished.” “Does it really take that long?” Daneath asked. I shrugged, “I admit, today was a day of learning. I knew it was complicated…but apparently stylish dresses are something else. I think I have a better understanding of how to get Daneath into his tin, than I do to put on a dress.” “You mean you have never worn one before?” Beepu asked me with his head cocked to one side and passed me a trencher with some type of stew. “I was sodding poor growing up, and doing dirty chores and work is easier in breeches. So why would I need a dress?” and I bit into the trencher, tearing off a chunk with my teeth. “Just one of the boys then,” Daneath commented. I thought a moment in between bites, “I suppose. But it’s more practicality. Anyway, we should probably talk in the room before Iesa takes another ale for me.” Everyone nods, and we grab an ale from the taps, and make our way to our private little sanctum. I didn’t really care for it compared to my room in Triboar. But it somehow felt safer by comparison. We all clamber in, and I flop on the bed and immediately start pulling off my boots from my sore feet and started massaging them. “So…we learn anything useful that doesn’t involve cloth?” Daneath chuckled, “That good eh? Well I did find a bar where the guards hang out. After some drinks, got them talking. Sounds like every guard in the town will be somewhere in major buildings. Once the fog starts, they stay where they are and wait for dawn.” “No patrols?” I asked. “Nope. They all have orders to stay out of it and they were dead serious.” He said and took a sip from his ale. “In fact, the fog seems to do what we have been told; if you step into it, you lose your memory.” “Is that it?” I asked. Beepu spoke up, “Yes and it is very strange. Some people have said sometimes they see shadows of people wandering aimlessly. But I heard from a book proprietor that I visited, that the memory loss can be anywhere from the last day, to the last moon.” Iesa whistled, “That would be <hic> problematic. No wonder they don’t <hic> patrol.” “Nope,” said Daneath. “And the manor will have about twenty on staff for the night. Which is not a lot really.” “And no one to cry beef…oh, call for help,” I said. “And nowhere to run to either,” Beepu said. “I had Foggle fly above the Manor. It is not a serious fortification. A ten-foot wall surrounds it and that wall has one gate at the front. It is two floors on the outside. Lots of windows, although that may not help much. There is a garden on one side and the stables for horses are on the other.” “It’s not like we have to sneak <hic> in. But that doesn’t tell <hic> us how to get out,” Iesa said. “And even then, <hic> while every place has a party <hic> you can’t really move around.” “What do you mean?” I asked and took a swallow of the bitter ale. “The mid and lower <hic> tier houses share walls. But you <hic> can’t get between blocks without <hic> crossing fog. Some folks tried <hic> to see if you run across the <hic> street, between parties. Doesn’t work. Doesn’t matter if <hic> you hold your breath. Takes moments I heard. But, only <hic> when the fog is fully there. Early evening as <hic> it sets, you have a little <hic> more time, before you <hic> slip off.” “We’ll be stuck there?” “Yep, and I found out <hic> something else. Yartar doesn’t have a proper <hic> sewer.” Daneath nodded, “I heard that too. The guards apparently thought about digging tunnels between key buildings. But there is bedrock below, and few buildings even have basements. In fact, this building is the only one in the lower tier that even has one.” “So, no maze of sewer tunnels then. Why only this place?” I asked “Because, a family of dwarves owned it and they were stubborn.” Daneath replied. “Oh and better yet, the guards all want gate duty for the Baroness’ gala. It’s a big deal for them.” “Now why is that?” Beepu asked with his brows knitted in confusion. “Because, they search everyone going in. Women included. Especially the women. They can protest, but then they can’t come in.” Daneath said taking another sip. “They seem to like that part a lot.” “Well, compared to getting dressed that’s…annoying, even looking for blades.” “Not just blades. Looking for pouches, crystals, wands and stuff.” Beepu and I exchanged glances and I said, “Wait…they look for spell casting things?” Daneath nodded, “Very explicitly. No spell casting on the grounds…or…” “Or…what?” Beepu asked. “They throw you outside, into the fog.” Daneath said. “No clear reason why, but it has been that way a while. Related to that; no armor either, but most just get sent away, with few exceptions.” “This is getting better and better,” I muttered. “No way out, no armor, no weapons, and no magic. No wonder the Crimson Star wants us to do this for them.” Iesa nodded, “Yeah, this isn’t a <hic> lot to work with.” “Well I was thinking about that. Foggle can drop off some supplies for us near a window or door. There are a couple of exterior doors on the manor and there are a lot of windows.” “Hmmm, might be enough for some pouches and a small blade.” I said thinking. “Also, in the garden, not far from a servant door is a wooden platform. A gazebo. We could hide some gear there in advance,” Noted Beepu. “And somehow at the party slip outside when we can. What did we need to stash?” I asked. “Some weapons ideally. Can’t easily conceal my armor,” Daneath noted. “Your chest piece maybe, but…” “Not with the dress. Well at least the pouches need to be smuggled in so we can use magic,” I said. “I know I could hide a blade and pouches under my dress. But, what about your coats? I didn’t see them in the shop.” “Some room. Daggers sure, maybe <hic> a small sword. Nothing <hic> big.” “Any chance on disguising ourselves as a guard instead?” I asked hopefully, looking for a different angle. “Daneath shook his head, “No. They all know each other, and they don’t wear helms.” “Convenient that we <hic> will be masked then.” “Well, the guards are part of it, but she also has her staff as well,” I said. “Both her seneschal and or her guard captain…what was that name, Eragon?...no Arkhan! They may be a problem in terms of getting close to her.” “I heard about the <hic> same,” agreed Isea. “The only other tidbit I heard was while the Hate <hic> Nights, started appearing only five winters ago, the Waterbaroness’ <hic> parties have been tighter and tighter on <hic>security in the last year or so.” “How many nights have there been?” Daneath asked. “This is the third in this year, which is not common.” “Wonderful. So basically, we have a no plan or path to success and no clear way out. We should just leave and forget this business,” Beepu said in humph. “I would agree,” I started to say, “But, when I was getting my dress, I mentioned the Crimson Star. They were afraid. So was the serving girl last night now that I think of it.” Daneath nodded, “I noticed that. And I asked the guards about the Star, and they really, really didn’t want to talk about them at all. It was like a bad omen to the guards to discuss them.” We all fell silent, with only the occasional hiccup from Iesa. All of us lost in our own thoughts. All struggling with the same question: Are we going to this? “Well,” I said, “I hate to say it…but we probably are going to need to pay the bellmen.” Frowning, Beepu asked, “Why is that Myrai?” “Because refusing means we are deaders already. Yartar and any other nearby ones won’t be safe for us. And heading into the wilds and its dangers is what started this mess. I don’t like it, but I don’t see how we have much of a choice.” “Not really no. We should have never become entangled in local affairs, and should have…done something…different...” Beepu started and trailed off. “Let’s hope the gods have something <hic> in mind for us tomorrow.” “Well, what does that leave for us tomorrow? Final fittings, the invitations, smuggling blades and spell pouches.” We all silently nod. And finally, I said, “Well, it could be worse I guess.” “How?” all three asked. “You all could have to wear dresses.” [B]Session Notes[/B] The Eragon/Arakan joke started here. I take all the blame for it, but Arakan's nickname stuck hard. Even the DM, who wrote the campaign got the name stuck in his head and swore at me for it. For the record I'm sorry. Sorta. The other item of note that as a player, the discussion on what to do took far longer than even this treatment was. Lots of die rolls, discussion, plotting etc. Far more time on plotting than actual dialog or roleplaying. This isn't bad, but tracking the number of persuasion / investigation / etc checks while necessary, aren't themselves a compelling story. On a completely different note, was the research on medieval tailoring. This came up as I was working on this section and my wife commented that a male tailor would never work on a dress; it would be a seamstress. This got me thinking, and I started parsing through the history of tailoring. It's a fascinating subject. But what I found is that modern conventions of thinking, don't apply consistently. Tailoring was usually fronted and run by men for the upper classes, but many times women were tailors. But they weren't consistently allowed into the master/apprentice system or even had guild memberships. The only area of tailoring that women did consistently that men did not was children's clothes, and undergarments. But not hose... So which in the end, I changed nothing...but it was a good, if incomplete read. [/QUOTE]
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