Pastries and Stolen Faces

Log Info

• Title: Pastries and Stolen Faces
• Emitter: Telamon
• Characters: Telamon, Dirk, Simony, Warrick, Aya, Dolan
• Place: Market District
• Time: April 9th, 2023
• Summary: Just a normal day. Well, as normal as discussion of face stealing demons can be. At least there's pastries!

Market District, midday

Normality. It's kind of a subjective thing. After all, what's normal for a farmer is probably not the same as what's normal for a sorcerer. But, some things are more or less constants: most people have to eat. And Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon is no exception.

And for a change, he's the one doing the shopping for foodstuffs today. The weather is breezy, but the sun has come out, and so he's dressed in a long-sleeved linen tunic over deep brown work-trousers, tucked into boots. Following along behind him is a concave disk of force, three feet wide, already supporting a few purchases already as the charming half-elf chats with a butcher.

"You have -sirrana-?" Telamon's eyes are wide, but with good natured surprise. "Hells, man, yes I will take a packet of that. I don't know if Pothy's ever had it but I know I like it too. Also the heartland sausages -- I've got a recipe to try tonight."

Dirk once knew what normal was. Sometimes, he can even indulge in it. His life certainly has been -interesting- over this last year or so. Interesting in the Eastern sense of the word. And yet, as terrible as some of those experiences have been, he wouldn't trade them for anything. They've led to some great friendships, after all.

But the weather is pleasant today. It's a fine day to indulge in a bit of normality. That's exactly what the burly old snowbeard is doing. He's got his cart set up, with a load of fine furs and leathers spread out on the folding shelf built into the vehicle's side. He sits on a folding camp chair, idly whittling away at a block of wood that will soon be another one of his hand-carved pipes to add to the collection for sale alongside the various leather goods.

His pony Thistle munches contentedly at the oats in the feed bag strapped to his nose, while his owl Lulu perches atop the pony's withers. Her head twists as her wide golden eyes survey the surroundings. Spying Telamon, she flutters her wings. "Hoo!" she hoots. Dirk looks up, and a broad smile creases his snowy-bearded features. "Och! Telamon!" he booms cheerfully. He sets his carving aside and hops to his feet, brushing wood shavings from his front as he lumbers over. He reaches up to give his friend a hearty clap on the shoulder. "It's so good tae see ye! How've ye been keepin'? I hope Lana an' Pothy are doin' well."

The Market district is well known for the diversity of its wares, and the variety of people buying and hawking said wares. And it is the main reason why the albino Goblin comes here. A comfortable perch is found atop crates of goods to be sold, and she surveys the ebb and flow of the crowd.

Her pencils are put to work, drawing everything she can, from the market stalls, to the surrounding district's buildings, and anyone who stands still long enough.

The not so distance Telamon is her first model, the floating disk of force holding his purchases making him stand out among the other patrons. Then along comes Dirk, and once he stops to chat, his image atop his pony is started in earnest, the pencil blurring.

Normality. It really is subjective. Erring more on the 'normal' side, a middle aged eldanar man in some dented armor on his chest half walks, half stiff-legs down the road with a crossbow strapped to his back. He's not injured, the limp is from a leg joint being remiss.

Warrick sighs, stopping by a stall to grab something to munch on as he casts his attention out, hearing a familiar name. He blinks, and ambles vaguely closer, armor clanking and scraping along the way to draw closer.

Telamon pays up, and adds his purchases to the disk. Then he glances over as Dirk approaches, and his face lights up again. "Dirk!" Then -- yep -- Tel is -hugging- the old snowbeard soundly. "Gods, it's good to see you!"

Indeed, Telamon is in good spirits indeed -- a far cry from when Dirk last saw him. At the mention of Lana and Pothy, he grins. "Both fine. Although Lana wanted to do some cleaning at home, and then visit her cousin, so she tasked me with the pantry run." His eyes sparkle. "We're -definitely- getting over the late unpleasantness. How about yourself? Are things looking up for you?" His eyes slide over the furs and leathers with interest.

Dirk is only too glad to return that hug, giving the half-elf a hearty squeeze as he claps the younger man on the back. "Och, that's joyful news, innit?" he says with a broad, happy smile. He plants his hands on his hips, nodding his head with a chuckle. "Aye, I'm doin' well! Got a load o' furs an' leathers tae bring to market. Sowed me first crop o' tobacco seed earlier this week, so that should be ready fer curin' by summer time." He brightens up a bit. "Oh! Lulu laid some eggs! Turns out she's got an owl sweetheart out there in the wood, so... suppose that means I'm tae be a gran'father soon!" He puffs up his burly chest with pride, grinning from ear to ear. For her part, Lulu also puffs up and preens, hooting happily in Telamon's direction. The old dwarf looks to the force disk with a chuckle. "Och, it's about time things started lookin' up fer us, innit? After all that's happened, we all deserve a bit o' peace an' quiet."

Out of one of the side streets and into the main thoroughfare nearby, Dolan wanders, stopping at a cart a few feet away from Dirk's that is selling jam-filled and honey-filled pastries of some exotic sort where the outside crust flakes away when bitten into. A wicked grin is plastered across the mobile half of his features, and while he moves a little stiffly, and is dressed in full armor and gear, the wickedness is matched in the lone brown eye. A brief conversation and a few coins changing hands, a long stare from the cart proprietress, and he walks away with two of the warm pastries, biting almost immediately into one and exhaling with pleasure.

He turns away and wanders in the direction of the various carts and stalls, towards the others.

The sight of Warrick making his way through the market causes Simony to smile, and the older man's sketch begins immediately. His limp causes her to frown a little, but the sketch continues. An eye is cast towards Tel and Dirk, and a brief amount of time is spent on adjusting their sketches.

The Goblin hums lightly to herself, her feet swaying back and forth, as more detail is added to the background, followed by touching up on Warrick. Then, with a grunt, she drops down from her perch, practically swallowed up by the crowd as she makes her way towards the Half-Elf and Khazad.

Warrick pauses briefly as others join with Telamon. He tils his head to the side, but he continues closer. "Simony. Hello," he waves to her.

And then Dolan joins. He rifles around in his bag and pulls out a journal, flipping some pages around. "Mister Lupecyll-Alton. Mister Dirk," he nods to them. "My daughter wouldn't stop talking about your magic show after being lifted about."

Aya crosses the bridge over the Tornmawr to make her way through the various stalls. Her steps aren't rushed, but they are purposeful as they take her past various clothing, accessories, and other sundries and towards a conglomeration of food vendors. Pastries offered at one are passed over in favor of meat: a skewer of the seasoned variety, in fact. She exchanges coin for the food and promptly pulls a bite from it. Only after does she widen her field of focus to those about her and possibly notice one or more familiar faces.

The half-elven sorcerer's laughter is a genial thing, not mocking in the slightest. "Oh, goodness Dirk. Little owlets. Poor Lulu's going to need a sitter." He claps the dwarf on the shoulder. "Well, let me know if you need anything. It's been a rough road of late, but that just means you try to savor the quiet times all the more."

Tel hasn't seen Dolan yet, but when Warrick approaches, he politely nods, offering the former guardsman his hand. "Mister Retzner, a pleasure to see you again. Thankfully under less stressful times." At the mention of his daughter, he blinks, then laughs. "Oh, she was your daughter? Well, I'm glad to have given a both safe -and- impressive display, plus the question period afterwards was quite entertaining." Tel looks wry. "Though I swear I think some of those ladies would listen raptly if I talked about the dullest things I could find..."

Dirk rumbles a low chuckle at Telamon, nodding his head. "True talk, lad, true talk," he says in agreement. As Warrick comes over, the old dwarf looks up with a bright smile, reaching up to tip back his tricorne. "Warrick! Och, it's been awhile, hasn't it? How are ye, friend?" And then, there's Dolan coming to join. Dirk lumbers over to give the younger man's shoulder a warm squeeze--carefully, just in case Dolan's still tender. "Dolan, lad, so good tae see ye!" His gaze gets drawn to those flaky pastries that Dolan carries, and his eyes get wide. "Oooh. Those look yummy! Where'd ye get those?" He's a growing dwarf, he needs his carbs.

Around a full mouth, Dolan looks up, his entire head lifting at a familiar voice. "Dirk!" The cuff on the left shoulder is still very much present, but he takes the squeeze well enough, reaching to embrace the khazad in return. "Brightest of days, Dirk," he mumbles around the mouthful, and gestures with his half-eaten pastry towards the cart just a few paces down the street. Monch monch gulp. "Over there."

"What, did you get stiffed with the shopping, Tel?" he calls to the sorcerer. "Or is Lana just keeping Pothy from eating the whole market?" He flashes that good-humored grin at the two unfamiliar faces.

Simony returns Warrick's wave. Her greeting is a quiet, "Hello." She smiles at talk of Cynthia, and a magic show, the Gobbo moving to stand at Warrick's side. She glances at the different people gathered, and greatly resists the urge to draw, stuffing her notebook and pencil back into a pocket. Simony pulls the pince-nes from her now, and cleans them on the edges of her sleeve. Sticking it back onto her nose, she offers the others a small wave.

Warrick nods slowly, smiling slightly. "Yes, thank you very much for that." He scratches his head, then shrugs. "Can't imagine why."

The ex-guard gives a slight bow of the head towards Dirk. "I am... well. Recently returned from a venture. Just on my way to get my armor fixed," he mentions, tapping a /large/ dent in the side. He eyes Dolan, looking down at his journal before stashing it away. The mul'neissa is spotted a bit too late, his eyes widening slightly.

Aya notices the voices, first, following her ears with eyes to at least two known to her. She takes another chunk and makes her way towards the improptu gathering. Telamon, more specifically. One more to listen raptly?

When she nears, she greets him with, "Telamon. I didn't thank you, before." Or she does not feel she did. "So, thank you." This is followed with a nod and acknowledgement to "Dolan."

Looks like there are some friends indeed! Telamon is careful to put his hand on Dolan's good shoulder, smiling at him. "Her light shines," is his simple and heartfelt response. "Are you on the mend? You look like you're moving a little stiff." He glances past, having noted the pastry. "And yes, I am on pantry duty today. I suspect I am going to be on -pastry- duty too, judging from your approval of that one."

His eyes sweep to Simony, and he smiles at her, nodding politely. "It's good to see you again as well, Simony. I'll be sure to mention to Pothy that I saw you." Eyes twinkling, and then... Aya is there. And for all of Tel's ebuillience and bravado, he offers the mul'niessa a kind smile.

"You're welcome, Aya. I'm glad I -- we -- could help." He approaches her, and reaches out to take her unhindered hand briefly. "I hope your man is on the path of healing."

Dirk rubs his hands eagerly as Dolan points out the pastry vendor. "Ohh, they was downwind o' me. No wonder I couldnae smell 'em! Be right back friends!" He trundles over, already digging into his belt pouch for some coin. He chatters briefly with the seller, passing over coins. Moments later, he's handed a tray heaped up with plenty of flaky, delicious pastries. With a huge ear-to-ear grin, he returns to the group. "Right! Everyone grab a pastry!" he booms with a rumble of cheerful laughter. He offers the tray out to everyone. Even to Simony, whom he does not yet know. "A sweet morsel makes everything better, nay?" Once pastries are successfully dispensed, he picks one up for himself and chompfs it clean in half. "ROMF!"

Dolan's first one is polished off quickly, and he licks his fingers. "It's getting there," he explains to Telamon, grinning at the sorcerer in response to the squeeze. His hands are full, so he does not return in kind, but the grin is acknowledgement enough for the moment. "They had me pick up the greatsword again this morning. Still a little stiff, but I s'pose I'll be fine."

The mention - and immediate purchase - of a whole tray of pastries has him throwing his head back in a laugh. "I might have known you would, Dirk, and you're a fine man for it. I've still got this one. Got it for Andie, but dunno how long she'll be." He looks towards one of the brick and mortar shop doors, grinning wickedly. "She kicked me out. Said I wasn't supposed to look."

He nods politely to the others, eyes lingering sympathetically on the dent in the armor. "Something hit you hard." It's Aya, though, that's got his attention, and the wicked grin vanishes. "Brightest of days, Aya. I'll try to drop in again soon. Sorry about that."

The gurgle of her stomach is easily masked by the crowds in the market, but the offered pastry is quickly taken. The Gobbo bows deeply to Dirk, which is followed by her shoving the entire pastry into her mouth all at once. Her cheeks bulge as her teeth work to make the treat swallowable, at least she keeps her mouth closed. Once the pastry is swallowed down, she offers Telamon a deep bow. "It is good to see you again, sir, er, Mister Lupecyll-Alton."

With the others approaching, the Goblin takes a half-step behind Warrick's armored form.

One snowy brow arches at Telamon's smile and there is a blink and twitch of muscle reflex as he takes her hand. She quells the start rapidly enough and doesn't pull away from him. "He is ..." her face twists in a jumble of thoughts for a moment, " on a better path than he was."

Her eyes pan promptly to Dolan and her head moves after, adding a shake at the end. "You have nothing to apologize for, Dolan. I think I am the one that owes you one. You have made much more progress than I..." There is appreciation in her tone, though it stops well short of joyous. Only after does she realize she may stepped into the middle of another conversation, and gives a glance to the others she isn't so familiar with. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Warrick looks between the three speaking about mending and thanks. He doesn't prod on the ongoings, as it wasn't his place to know. But he turns his attention down to the offered pastry. With a shrug, he takes one, nodding in appreciation as he nibbles on it.

He eyes Aya suspiciously, but the others seem to be fine with them, and he relaxes. "Yes. A... troll? Giant? Clubbed me. As we were dealing with frustrating things."

Free pastry? If Telamon turned it down, Pothy would never let him hear the end of it. "Thank you, Dirk," he says with a smile, taking one and nibbling on it experimentally before taking a bigger bite. "Mmm," he mumbles, and then swallows. "Yep. Going to have to buy pastries for Lana -- and Pothy. This is my life." He grins impishly.

Tel makes a face at Warrick's description, and nods. "Unpleasant. That whole matter was unpleasant. But such is adventuring. Still," he waves his hand around. "Where there's life, there's hope. Aya, if you need assistance with Daechir and think Lana or I can help, you can get word to us." The grand gesture of his hand is only slightly ruined by the fact he's still holding the half-eaten pastry in it.

"There's a line I heard from a soldier once: the only easy day was yesterday. I -definitely- think that applies to adventuring as well." Tel smiles. "So appreciate the victories as you get them."

Dirk chompfs and swallows, rumbling a chuckle at Dolan as he nods. "Oh, you know me, laddie. I always enjoy doin' nice things fer me friends. It's even better when there's delicious treats involved!" He chompfs down the other half of his pastry, licking the icing from his fingers as he monches heartily. Seeing Simony gobble down that pastry has the old snowbeard's bushy white brows arching in astonishment. "Och, an' I thought -I- could pack away the sweets!" He offers the tray out--there's still several pastries left, he bought a dozen. "Here, lassie. Get some meat on those bones."

He looks back over to Tel, Warrick, and Aya. Mention of Daechir sours his good humor a bit. "Wait a tick. Daechir... that's that demon bastard who was harrasin' Missus Verna, wasn't it? Och, what's -he- about now?" he grumbles. He looks back over to Aya. "Ye need some silver shot put in that clean-shaven git's arse, you just say the word, lass. I'll be there wi' bells on."

"For sure, Tel. When I can get to where I can fight with it again, that'll for damn sure be a victory." There's no doubt in Dolan's tone, and he grins at the mention of Pothy. "You sure just one will be enough for the bird, though?" He looks at the second one in his hand, and starts in on it as well. "I'll let her pick one when she gets out," he decides, chompfing a healthy bite of it.

"Easy, Dirk. Turns out that bastard demon kidnapped the poor man to the Hells and was borrowing his face. We got the real one out, but-" He trails off, and sighs. "I can get to him, Tel. Kind of. He doesn't know who anyone is, but he's at least responding now. As for the devil, Dirk, we for sure need to be hunting that thing. I think it's either him or one of his buddies that borrowed Seb's face and went after Andie."

"It was very frightening, worse though was the horrible sound of Warrick being hit. Though, I was distracted from that by being stabbed in the chest by one of the wooden creatures with swords for fingers.", Simony offers. She giggles lightly. "That line is very apt, that soldier was very experienced and wise. You are right to say that it applies to adventuring. My studies and training seem... inadequate to meet the challenges of adventuring."

The Gobbo's expression seems at war with itself momentarily. The treats look very tasty... but she has plenty of meat on her bones. She opens her mouth to stay something, instead filling it with another pastry. It is as quickly chewed and swallowed as the first one was, with Simony licking the tips of her of her fingers. "My thanks, once more.", she intones, bowing to the Khazad again.

Dolan catches her eye, and she glances back and forth between the two halves of his face. The notebook is slowly pulled from her pocket, and her hand fishes around for the pencil while she listens of demons, the Hells and some poor man trapped there.

Violet eyes snap to Dirk in a whip crack that carries the rest of Aya to pivot square on the khazad. There is only the barest hestitation with Dolan in her peripheral that prevents her from darting towards. Instead, she starts to correct through tighetning teeth, "He is not-" she pauses when Dolan intervenes and, as he does so, forces some of the tension from her frame. "A fiend wears his face, and one wears mine. One of them, both of them? took him, but he was freed."

Warrick nods slowly. "Wise soldier. Applies to many things, just glad it turned out okay in the end. Even if... it went to strange places." He's still processing that trip to other-worlds. "It hurt a lot," he comments about being hit. "Just glad Simony was there to fix it just as fast as it came, otherwise there would be more complications."

He looks between Dirk, Dolan, and Aya about this Daed fellow. Listening, but not commenting. He idly shifts some pieces of his armor around, unfastening a belt here, moving a button there.

Though the mul's brisk attention catch's Warrick's attention. He stares. Thinks. Then takes another pastry to slowly much on it. There was no point in trying to allay anything, him instead taking a half step back to peer down at Simony's journal.

Telamon places a hand on Dirk's shoulder firmly. "I know you mean well, Dirk, just make sure you're pointed in the right direction." He looks at Aya, smiling at her reassuringly. "I really hope this isn't becoming a regular practice. Dolan, Andelena, and I caught a similar one out on the docks -- tarted up to look like Daechir, but using the name 'Mortin' and running a loan-sharking operation." He shakes his head.

"Regardless, I'm sure there'll be a chance to put some rounds in this low life face-faking fiend soon enough. We're recovering, doing research, and another strike will be forthcoming. Keep them off balance, don't let them get their footing. It's as true in strategy as it is in politics or a bare-knuckle brawl."

Dirk looks between his friends, nodding his head as he monches on another pastry. "Och, what a terrible fate. To be locked in Hell while some filthy creature janders about wearin' yer face." He has to suppress a shudder at the thought. "But aye. I've been studyin' how tae hunt fiends. I'm almost as good at that as I am huntin' the deadwalkers." He manages a weary smile, rumbling a soft chuckle. "Seems like I can barely remember when I just hunted deer an' elk. But... everything happens fer a reason, I'll warrant. Maybe I was always meant tae be a devil-hunter. Just took me awhile tae figure it out."

"Mortin's got a tie to Jal'goroth," Dolan mutters around his second pastry. "With Auranar gone, Magpie could probably use a hand on the research to see how to put that little shit out of our misery for good. I'll find what I can, but - this is going to keep happening until we do something about it. We should drop by Verna's, too, check in on her."

He nods with what Aya says, but exhales, still chewing thoughtfully. It is to Warrick that he speaks, though. "For sure it did. You got back up, and I s'pose that is what matters, yeah? All you gotta do is get back up."

The Goblin's cheeks turn to dark spots of red, and she rubs at them. "It's what I trained to do. I might not be able to bash the bad guys as effectively as others, but I can make the hurting go away." Her expression takes on a pained expression. "I did not like how it felt like my stomach had been left behind on another plane of existence. And that lunch was a gosh darned good one too.."

The conversation and tension between the others has her pausing, eyes flicking back and forth, and she further secrets herself behind Warrick, just a thin outline of her form seen. The notebook, filled with the drawing of the market and some of her patrons, is flipped to a blank set of pages, where the figure of Dolan starts to be drawn and detailed.

Simony pauses in her sketching, to eye Dirk curiously. "Then I am destined to be present for when you offer pastries."

Dolan draws her attention by mentioning Magpie. "She has asked me for assistance with that research. I get the feeling that the more the merrier where that is concerned."

It wouldn't be much better to be locked inside with one while it uses one's whole body. Though this is about Daed, at least to Aya. "I don't study fiends, but I know something of the one that claimed me..." Her brow furrows at a thought and she looks to Dolan. "And where one of them is, or was, from what Daechir said." She wound up speaking very little othe other evening, but she was still listening. "I think there is more than one. I've never seen the one as anyone other than myself, and it carries much more of me than just my face. If you find it, tell me, and be cautious."

Warrick raises a brow. "I was there to discover this 'Mortin' fellow," he chimes in. "I am well glad to be... distant from this." He gives Dirk a look, him shifting in his dented armor about deadwalkers. A glance to Simony's sketching, and a half shrug. "And you do it well."

Though, it's to Dolan he settles his gaze upon. "That's the hardest part, after getting knocked down," he says, then adds, "Getting up. You have to get up every time. From every blow. Or every rest in bed." The last part said a tinge quieter as he rubs at his armored left arm.

"Every hand raised to help, Simony. That's all that can be asked." Telamon's voice is calm and reassuring. "But! As always, if you need my assistance, or Lana's, you know where to find us. The gardens are planted, and the days are growing longer again. Don't be afraid to step in the light."r

Tel checks skyward, and chuckles. "But, I'm afraid my tasks must carry me onward. Lana will be annoyed if the pantry isn't restocked, to say nothing of Pothy. And I think my -mother- wants to visit too -- oh gods." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "Going to be a busy few days. Take care, my friends." With that, Telamon moves on, pausing at the pastry cart to purchase some for himself, for Lana, and of course Pothy. Such is life in his household.

The extra encouragement only keeps the Goblin's cheeks tinted a dark red, and she offers a wave to Tel as he makes his way onward. Simony nods to Warrick, "Thank you. I find your actions on the battlefield are often inspired, you seem to get to the exact place you are required to be." She offers the warrior a deep bow. "And I am in your debt."

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolls. Simony's ears perk up, and her notebook and pencil are quickly tucked back into a pocket. "Oh. I did not realize the lateness of the hour. It has been interesting to listen in on the conversation, even if my participation has been small." Dirk is offered a nod, and if there are any treats left behind, she reaches out to take one. "Thank you, master Khazad. These are delicious and filling." Her third pastry vanishes much like the first, taken in whole, and chewed on. She pats Warrick on the arm, and waves, still chewing as she runs off, disappearing into the market crowd.

At that moment, the brick and mortar storefront that Dolan had been watching opens, and a woman with a mane of red hair is visible just inside. She's paused a minute, but that seems to have been what the Redeemer was waiting for. Warrick gets a quirk of a smile. "You do what you have to," he answers. "The worst thing to do is lay down and die, yeah?" To Aya, he nods. "Good to know. I'll want to ask you a bit more about that, but Andie's out. I'd better go. Brightest of days, all of you."

With that, he grabs a pastry off of the tray and turns to make for the storefront, leaving the bustle of the market day to swirl around a meeting of friends.

Dirk waves a farewell to his friends as they take their leave, before he ambles back over to his cart. He settles himself down, breaking another pastry in half. He sets one to the side for Lulu to peck at, while he munches his own. It's a good day.

Aya gives a nod to the departing Telamon and Simony, then to Dolan she responds to his faring well with, "I hope they shall be." As those known depart, and she has at least one important thing to tend, she excuses herself to those that remain. "Until next we meet." With that, she moves to continue on her original path, the last morsel taken from her skewer.

Warrick waves to those that depart, him shifting a helmet resting on his hip to the other side. He shrugs lightly. "Just doing my job, Simony. Don't be late."

He nods to Dolan, a soft sigh escaping him. "Laying down and dying is not optimal, no."

People begin to leave, dispersing for the day. Another sigh leaves Warrick, and he picks up the helmet attached to his hip, staring into the closed visor.

"Yoooooooo. Holy shittake mushrooms Dad, what the heck dented your fancy getup?" a teens voice croons from the crowd.

He chuckles, smiling lightly, and puts the helmet back to its resting place. "A tree trunk."

"Shut the front door. You're lying."

"Swung by an ogre."

"Woooooah."

The day goes on.

-End Scene-