Chapter 3
Vandal at Cursebreaker Grune’s
The sun peeked through the tall block buildings and chimney's, stretching along the dew-soaked cobble streets of Caravaggio Row. The street was already lined with vendors standing in front of glass shop fronts, and shelf windows that opened to a serving bar, with open shutters, and cooks behind them, furiously working over hot stovetops. The aroma filled the streets, of frying meats and arrant spices. Even this early, the foot traffic of Caravaggio Row moved like a ceaseless river, as the morning rush had begun.
Maggie, with whom her cheeks were being overtaken with the bags growing from her eyes, stood at a stall, staring into a steaming chamomile tea, as a cook in a white smock flipped a flaming wok on the other side of the bar.
She had given up on sleep just before sunrise and had left a note with the bartender for Star to meet her on Caravaggio Row. A week out of home, the only thing Maggie could think about after morning prayer, was fish. Being from a coastal city, fresh fish had been a staple of her diet in all of living memory. Unfortunately, one of the problems of a magical city that floated and moved above a mountain range, was that, though Ja Reyil had rivers, it's supply of fresh saltwater fish was limited. The best Maggie could find was a Bataran stall that served pickled fish, over a bed of pickled rice.
Such a dish was placed in front of her, with two wooden sticks that Maggie stared at in bemusement. Maggie placed two bayl on the countertop for the cook. "Blessing of Merne upon you." She said, listlessly, and then went about the task of deciphering the puzzle of the wooden sticks. Da'La, who had received a similar meal, expertly picked up the sticks, placed one between her thumb and forefinger, and holding the other like a pencil in her claw, she began to move food from the plate to her mouth. Maggie attempted the same, delicately balancing the chopstick in the fold of her thumb, and attempting to grasp the other, which upon trying, the bottom stick fell into her rice.
After a moment of experimentation, Maggie found she could bundle the sticks, hold them together like wielding the torch, and shovel the food from the bowl into her mouth. It was an inelegant solution, but it accomplished the task of getting the rice from the bowl into her stomach, which at the moment was the only meaningful bar for success.
Looking up from her meal, feeling some energy coming back to her, she looked around at the moving traffic. Through the bustling streets she spotted in a stall across the way, eating from a small bowl Inspector Renjin. Maggie leaped from her seat and began to make her way through the crowd calling "Inspector Renjin, Inspector Renjin!"
Upon hearing this, she saw Renjin quickly pack up his meal, and before she could negotiate the crowd to the pale skinned officer, he had gone. She stared at the empty seat where he sat, sagged her shoulders, and turned, where Da'La, dutiful as always, had stood behind her. As they made their way back and sat down, Maggie spoke to her companion, "Don't they eat blood, or something?"
"Why don't you go smell his food for garlic, while you're at it?" Came from behind her. Star, who stood behind her holding a large, fresh head of cabbage, which he mindlessly tore off stems, and placed under his tentacles.
"You know, you can get that cooked," Maggie said, turning around in her seat.
"Wouldn't do me much good. The fresher the better, you really don't know much about other races, do you?" Star said, as he shoveled another handful of cabbage into his mouth.
"Well, have a seat, maybe they have some fresh... ish fish." Maggie turned back to her bowl and began to shovel food in her face.
"I don't eat meat." Star said, reaching into his duster, pulling out an envelope. "So, this vandal case--"
"Wait, you don't even eat fish?" Maggie asked.
Star ignored her, "Cursebreaker Grune complained about an attempted break in."
"Like, not even Salmon, I love salmon." Maggie continued, undeterred.
"The weird thing is," Star stressed, "Is he tried to break in during store hours. He broke the door, looked at Grune, and just left."
Maggie continued, "Or Halibut! Back in Meril, they cooked a great Halibut steak in a streetshop I used to--"
"No, I don't eat fish."
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Meriton Lane was located off of the flea district three blocks from the docks, right off of a side street from Caravaggio Row. The flea district, a wide-open cobble street with tall light poles, that glowed faintly orange through the filigree that carved along them, and paper lanterns hanging from long wires that connect between the poles. The street was bustling with pedestrians, though notably aside from the three standing in the road, none of the foot traffic seemed to be tourists. Flanking the street were small, square wooden shops with terra-cotta roofs and paper windows, most of which had wooden stands propped up on the outside, with wares on display, and a merchant standing behind them.
Halfway down the road, stood a tall crooked tower made of mossy brick with a brass circular roof and two chimney crooks off the sides, each with their own cap. Small brass canopy covers propped from each window of the large circular tower. Most notably, part of the front wall, next to the door, appeared to be blown open, and a hole with lumber nailed over it protruding from the side. The door was under a brass awning and was crookedly set with a small sign on it that reads “Sorry, We’re Closed”, the handle of the door, as per the report, was missing, as was a chunk of wood where it had gone, and a wooden plaque on the side that reads “Grunes Shop Of Perfect Peculiars” That shined an incandescent indigo.
"I think they may have undersold the damages." Maggie observed, staring at the gaping hole in the side of the tower. She stared in the hole, and peeking through the lumber, a large Veck man, with Bluish greyish skin, wearing a long black coat with deep blue trimming, swept a pile. Aside from the damage, which was extensive, ranging from a flipped cabinet, to broken tables, and of course a hole in the wall, with blackened stone from the ground and around it. The shop itself was a kind of open shop. Instead of a counter, several tables stood on display, some with toys and various trinkets, some with books, other jewelry, all on display with different price tags attached with twine.
Star attempted to knock on the door, and the door, from the pressure of the knock, swung inward.
"We're closed," Came the large, four-armed man, his voice deep and thoughtful.
"Sorry, I'm actually here with the Graveyard." Ventured star, holding his old Sheriff's badge.
"That's not a graveyard badge," The large man looked up. His eyes were a shimmering, shifting blue, as he looked across the room to the badge. He was a large man, maybe ten feet in height, with greyish blue skin, more on the grey side. He was bald, with a salt and pepper beard kept short. He wore a long black coat, specially fitted for his four arms, that had blue trim, and a silk blue interlining. Beneath could be seen a tweed waistcoat, and a single chain coming from his right fob. On his top right hand was a glove, fingerless, and imbedded a large blue crystal. Currently, he hunched over a large bristled broom, and was sweeping up a wet pile of freshly broken glass.
"Yeah," Star put away his badge, and pulled out an envelope. "Orders from Inspector Renjin... we're..."
"Filling in." Maggie finished with a smile.
The large Veck stood up straight and placed the broom to the wall. He smiled a warm smile, "Well, I'm glad you could make it by. Cursebreaker Grune." He offered his lower right hand.
Maggie stepped forward, and took the hand, which enveloped her forearm. "Sister Margaret, people call me Maggie," She said, warmly. "These are my companion, Da'La," She gestured to her Dek'Har, who nodded. "And Star."
"We have... more than a few questions." Star said, taking out his notebook from his duster pocket.
"Naturally." Grune said. His voice, while deep, was gentle, he folded his lower hands behind his back.
"I was under the impression that the vandal only broke the door..." Star started, gesturing to the new window.
"The first time, yes." Grune said, "He came back only a half hour ago."
"He came back?" Maggie repeated, shocked.
"Did you get a good look at him?" Star followed.
"Yes to both." Answered Grune, "What I saw of him, he was a C'Shyk, Orange and red scales, and yellow neck. He had a tuft of purple hair, and wore a ragged coat, and stained bandages on his hands."
"What happened?" Star pressed.
"The first time, I only caught a glimpse of him. He broke the door, stared at me as if he was shocked to see me, and then ran off." Grune reported. "This more recent time was more... aggressive. He came through the front door, while I was stocking some trinkets. I stood up and asked him what he was doing here. He then just began to wreck the place. He broke the table," Grune gestured to the heap of wood next to the door, "Tore down a shelf of odd books I had on display, flipped another table, upturned a cabinet. Lastly, he flipped the table of potions I had near the front. They mingled together and blew out my wall. He then ran out the door, saying something that I couldn't hear on account of my ears ringing.
"Did you see which way he ran?" Star asked, writing in his notebook.
"No, the only thing I could pay attention to, was the thought, 'My ears, my ears, dear gods my ears." Came Grune, rubbing his right ear, "I still hear the ringing.... some of the other shopkeepers are open, check with Mr. Cosner over at the bookshop, Mr. Tribsky the tailor, both of them are open pretty early. And I think I saw young Mr. Windsom running the bread stand in front of Boyles shop when I came in this morning. They might have seen something."
"Right, thank you Maester Grune." Star closed his notebook and placed it and his inkwell pen in his front duster pocket.
"Why do they call you Cursebreaker?" Maggie asked.
"Maggie, we don't--" Star began, but Grune raised his lower left hand.
"It's quite alright." Grune said. "I studied Abjuration in University. In a Wizard's eighth year of study, we finalize on a focus. Mine was Cursebreaking."
"So, why don't you run a practice?" Maggie followed.
"I occasionally do, but I found Cursebreaking to be... stressful." Grune said with a gentle smile. "But Trinket making was both challenging and relaxing. It wasn't my specialty, but it gives the neighborhood kids something to enjoy, and brightens my customers." Grune reached into his fob, and produced a metal egg, of a color between copper and bronze, that despite being normal egg sized, looked positively miniscule in his large lower left hand. Grune placed it on the table next to him. And, instead of cracking, it seemed to unfurl, first, two wings that looked feathered stretched out, and the rest rolled and took the shape of a horse. The tiny Pegasus stretched its hooves and wings, giving out a slight yawn, and then clinking across the table, and approached toward Maggie, and upon reaching her hand, it nuzzled.
"Oh, it's adorable!" Maggie let out.
Grune grasped it gently in his hand, and it rolled back into the shape of an egg, he then held it out to Maggie. "Here, for you." He said, smiling gently.
"She can't." Star said, looking at the affair with contempt. "We're--"
"It's a toy, Star, it's not going to interfere with my interests." Maggie said, picking up the egg and pocketing it in her dress. "Thank you, Maester Grune." She gave a slight bow to the giant Wizard.
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Maggie and Star had agreed to talk to the shop owners separately, Maggie and Da'La headed to the bookshop, as Star went to talk to the Baker Boy, and them deciding to meet at the Tailors. Maggie approached the dirty hen. A small quaint shop within a tall block white Tudor house, with a split roof in which two brick chimneys with tin caps poked out of. The second story was jettied out, and the windows and framing were dark stained wood. The shop itself was framed in wood that was stained, and had a large window, which had been broken. A small brass bell hung over the orange door.
Maggie stepped inside and was immediately hit by the unmistakable musty smell of dried leather and old books. Inside the shop was amazingly dusty, as particulates hit the rays of sunlight poking through the broken window. Lined along the walls were tables and bookshelves, all covered in meticulously placed books. Along the back wall was a small counter, with a register, a catalogue next to the register, a small pile of books, as a tip jar. Behind it, an old, kindly looking man, in a brown waistcoat and white shirt, with a pair of pince-nez on his nose with a chain leading to his breast pocket.
As Maggie approached, he looked up with a slight smile, "Excuse the window, this morning's trouble made work on it. Would you like a book?"
"I was actually coming to discuss that trouble." Maggie said, "but if you have a prayer book, I would be interested." She said, cheerfully. "Sister Margaret, Ypfhar of the Order, and temporary Constable for the Graveyard. And this is my companion, Da'La."
"Well, I can see what I can scare up, but in the meantime." The older man removed his pince-nez and placed them into his front pocket. "I am Enus Russle Cosner, the humble purveyor of this establishment, and you said you were a constable. How progressive. What can I do you for little Miss Margret?"
"Eh," Maggie blinked for a moment, "I was wondering if you saw what had happened."
"Only the last half, dear." Mr. Cosner said, "I didn't see the fellow enter, but after an errant brick went through my window, I looked out to see what was the matter."
"And, vhat did you zee?" Said Da'La.
"Well, an orange skinned C'Shyk," Mr. Cosner spit out the last word in disgust. "He walked out, mouthing something at the poor brute across the way, and then, looking shifty as they do, he ran off, probably to steal from some other poor shop owner."
"I'm sorry, what?" Maggie said, startled.
Mr. Cosner leaned forward conspiratorially, "Well, you know how those C'Shyk are. A ruffian, dull type, not suited for honest work." Mr. Cosner sat up and looked at Da'La, "Present company excluded of course."
"Ov course." Da'La repeated through a forced smile.
"I assure you; I do not know what they are like." Maggie said, her face locked in a stunned horror.
"Well, at any rate, he ducked into the alleyway, by that genial foppish squider's, Tribsky's," Mr. Cosner added, "Last I hope to see of him."
"And I think we have what we need." Maggie said, quickly, looking for any way to get out of there.
"Well, I hope you catch him, and he rots." Mr. Cosner said with a self-assured smile. "Oh, and your prayer book."
"No, I don't need it." Maggie said, and stopped before reaching the door. She couldn't help herself, she turned violently, "And another thing. The bravest, most honorable person I've ever met is a C'Shyk, Enus. And I think you should spend some time reading that prayer book, because with your attitude, when you finally keel over and die, you'll be spending your time in the special spot of the twelve hells for horrible bigots. May the blessings of Merne be upon you."
"Why, I never! You are banned from my shop, you little girl." Mr. Cosner stood up.
"I don't ever want to step foot in this dust hole again." Maggie opened the door, "And your little glasses make you look stupid."
Maggie quickly left, her face beat red, followed by a far calmer Da'La. "I'm so sorry for that... that man. Da'La." Maggie said, as she walked away in a huff.
"It is quite alright." Da'La said, "really not ze vorst I've heard."
"That's terrible. People like that just, really get at me." Maggie said, taking a breath.
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The bread stand outside of Boyle's bakery, was a small rolling wooden cart, with a pop up canopy, and a large basket on the side filled with bread rolls and loaves, and various pastry on the top bench of the cart, which was coated in flour. Behind it, wearing a tan smock and a black long sleeve button up, which was dotted with flour, was a young man with auburn hair, a dull smile, and tired eyes.
"Welcome to Boyles," he said, lazily. "I'm James, would you like some bread?"
Star approached, pulling his old Sheriffs badge from his coat pocket, and presenting it quickly, "Star, I'm from the Graveyard, and I want to ask you a few questions."
James stood up straight at the site of the badge, and nervously returned, "Wh-what can I do for you, officer?"
Star gave him a quizzical look. "I'm just here to ask about what happened at Cursebreaker Grunes shop."
James relaxed a bit, "Oh, that. It was pretty wild." James said.
Star pulled the notebook and inkwell pen from his duster pocket and opened the notebook. "Just tell me what you saw."
"Honestly, not much. Just, you know, the shop... exploded, and a guy came out cursing. Uh, Mr. Cosners window broke out from a stray brick. And he ran in the alleyway by Tribsky's." James said, quickly.
Star could feel the nervous tension within James. Also, the fact that he was lying. "Look, I can't do my job if you don't tell me what happened." Star's eyes thinned at the nervous boy.
"Look, that's what happened!" James insisted.
"Look, I don't care what you were doing at the time. I'm just here for the Vandal." Star shot out. "Now you can tell me what actually occurred. Or I can just arrest you anyway." Star threatened.
"Ok. Fine. I was actually in the alleyway. I was taking a break..." James said.
"Ok, why didn't you tell me this?" Star asked.
"Because I was smoking a joint." James admitted. He leaned forward, "Y'know, Khon?" He gave a motion like holding a joint.
Star sighed. "What did you see?"
James relaxed. "He was a C'Shyk, Red and Orange scales, he ran past me and knocked the barrels off, damn near squished me. I heard him saying something when he ran, in a panic. 'Need to get back to the bar.' That was it."
"Ok, thank you," Star finished his note, and placed his notebook back into his coat with the pen.
"Hey... uh, could you not tell my boss?" James added, as Star walked away.
Star pulled out a cigarillo and his stem, "Yeah... sure." He said half-heartedly, while he stuffed the cigarillo in the stem and reached for his matches. He then looked up, seeing Maggie approaching, followed by Da'La in toe. She was fuming about something.
"Any luck?" Star asked, as she moved toward him.
"Yeah," Maggie said, shortly. "That racist," she called back toward the Shop, "said he saw the guy duck behind Tribsky's."
"Wait..." Star started, amused, "You're calling this guy a racist."
"Not now, Star." Maggie snapped.
"I'm just saying, I have to see what this guy is doing." Star said, undeterred, "Was he burning a C'Shyk in effigy, while chanting 'all fishes must die'?"
"Not now, Star." Maggie came again, still fuming, now walking toward Tribsky's.
Star managed to light his cigarillo. "The burnout said roughly the same thing." Star said, moving behind Maggie. "He ran down an alleyway, past the kid."
"To Tribsky's then," Maggie took a breath, calming herself.
Tribsky's was a Stick style building, shaped like a fat L, with a square tower coming out of the center of the roof, capped with a pyramidal roof. The jettied front had a large window on the second floor, and within the recess, was a wooden framing, painted purple, surrounding a large unmolded window, with the words "Tribsky's Tailor," In large cursive font, painted on the window. The door, which had a bell on the top of it, lead to an open area, in which rolling racks of cloth and finely made clothes lined the outer wall. The floors were a polished wood, and toward the back of the room was a set of three cornered mirrors, in which a very large mustached man, stood, wearing a half made black waistcoat and a white shirt, and no pants save for his undergarments, arms spread out, and his reflection looking like they were joining a prayer circle. Toward the ground, holding a piece of twine, was a thin Xericoz in a purple, diamond checkered waistcoat, and a silk magenta shirt, donning a thin pair of brass framed glasses, and wearing what appeared to be a well maintained shaggy wig, that almost looked like natural hair on his teal Xericoz skin.
"Just hold still, Mr. Hooper," The Xericoz said, as he measured the area from the waist to the arm, inserting a pin on the fold. While most Xericoz Maggie had met voice often came in as a sort of Whisper, this one notably didn't. It seemed to announce itself, calling attention to the presence of The Xericoz. The Xericoz gently took the twine over to a countertop, carefully measured, and made a note.
The Xericoz took off his glasses and turned to the party who had entered his shop. "Greetings!" The Xericoz beamed, "And welcome to my tailor shop. I am Tribsky." Tribsky stretched out his arms and gave a short bow. "Oh, and I can see I have my work cut out for me," he looked at Star up and down, putting his fist to below his tentacles. "But I think I can manage... a new coat will be necessary..."
"We're not here for clothes." Star said, cutting him off.
"Well, not so fast," Maggie started, but stopped as Star shot her a look. "Maybe later. By the by, you're an individualist?"
"There can only be one Tribsky, my dear. And you, you would be a lovely canvas," he approached Maggie. "I can see it now, Spring skin tone, freckles, lots of freckles," He began to circle Maggie, "Oh, no dear, that's a great thing," Tribsky said, seemingly reading Maggie's thoughts, "you need to show those off. I'm thinking, jade, perhaps emerald to show off your eyes, with turquoise--"
"The break in next door, Mr. Tribsky." Star turned to the tailor, who was still circling Maggie, whose face was frozen in an excited smile. "Star, I'm from the Graveyard. I'm here about the vandal."
Dejected, Tribsky stood, "Of course," he let down the twine still in his hand. "The fellow. He came screaming by my shop after the explosion. He was panicking, in a hurry to get somewhere. Something about a Locust, I think? His name is Tizzdak. Now, can we please get back to the matter of the dress."
"How did you know those things?" Star asked, writing in his notebook.
"I was hoping you wouldn't actually ask." Tribksy sighed. "I'm a telepath. A little training from when I was still in contact with my Clade. I know the training says I should show restraint, but I just can't help myself sometimes to peoples... secrets. This one time a lady entered my shop--"
"Thank you," Star cut him off. "You've been... helpful." Star looked thoughtfully over the notes for a moment, a bar... Locusts...
"Oh good, now about that dress," Tribsky turned to Maggie, who brightened a smile. "Jade, with turquoise trimming, maybe some jewelry, we have to do something with that neckline of yours--"
"Oh, for Merne's sake, I know where we have to go." Star said.
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"What are we doing back here?" Maggie said, staring at the beaten street of the Parsloe Quay. It had taken a grueling moment to pry Maggie away after Star's realization, but he managed to make their way out the door, and the short jaunt to the back alley neighborhood.
"I saw this yesterday, while you were talking to the one-armed bum." Star said, as he approached toward where the broken carriage sat. Maggie moved on the other side of Star, spotting the old man, Stumpy, still sitting in his cart, seemingly taking a nap. They stopped just outside a rectangular wooden cabin style building, with a lazy arched parapet and a large long broken window. It had saloon doors... well door as one of the doors was broken and still hanging from the hinges, a broken bench, which did not seem to be a bench for outside laid in a heap next to a dead tree which grew out of the cobblestone street. On top of the building in large letters, with both L's missing leaving a sun line and nails behind, read 'The Lying Locust.'
"You think he went here?" Maggie asked.
"No telling, but the burnout said he went to a bar, and the tailor was helpful with his scandalous mind reading. It makes sense." Star said, smoking a cigarillo, and approaching.
Maggie followed, "What's our plan?"
"Drag him out and arrest him." Star said, as he blew through the saloon door.
Inside, the back wall was covered in the broken remnants of a large mirror. A dartboard, which itself was clean, but was surrounded by five darts (the sixth one nowhere to be seen), stuck into the wall surrounded by several dart holes. The floors were wooden and worse for wear. They gnarled and buckled, and in places broke strait through to the dirt foundation. The tables and chairs were all in various states of repair, and the repairs were particularly slap-job, using different styles of wood, or rough chopped lumber as braces, and coasters to keep level. The bar, which stretched across the back of the room in front of the broken mirror, was buffed, scratched, and rotting. The stools that we left, either didn't have actual seats, or when did, the seats cushion let out its fluff from tearing. Behind the bar the shelves were broken, and the booze all leaned to one side, piling on each other from gravity.
It's tender stuck out from the mess, not by being upper crust, but by seeming cleaner than the glass he fruitlessly was scrubbing. He was a square jawed man, with light brown hair and inset eyes with the beginnings of crowfeet. He wore a black smock with a brown shirt, whose sleeves were rolled past his elbows.
Star, Maggie, and Da'La approached the bar, stepping on a matted carpet, a vain attempt to spruce up the broken floor. The bartender spoke, "You here for Tizzdak? He's over there," The bartender gestured toward the dartboard. Star nearly asked how he knew, but gauged instantly it wasn't as if they were here for a drink. He turned toward the dartboard, and crouched under it was an C'Shyk, whose scales began at a bright red and cascaded to orange. He had a tuft of orange hair, and a yellow neckline. His clothes were nice looking, but torn in every possible way, like he caught every errant nail that he could possiblycatch. He wore a long black coat, with yellow trim, and a silken yellow inner lining. His hands were bandaged, and he wore only one boot, which was split.
"Tizzdak?" Maggie asked, as she approached cautiously.
"Oh no, no no no!" Tizzdak stood from his place, "It wasn't my faul--" Tizzdak had tried to make a break for the door, but tripped over the ratted rug, the rug came out from under the three, and Star, Maggie, and Da'La all quickly hit the floor. Tizzdak hit the wall, and all of the darts fell straight down and stabbed him in the arm.
The group clawed their way to their feet, as Tizzdak knocked a table down, and the cutlery on the table flew toward Maggie, the pointed sides making their way toward her. Da'La sprung to action with a quick unsheathing of her wakizashi, knocking them out of the air.
"Thank you," said breathlessly. "Now grab him."
Da'La charged Tizzdak, her feet only lightly hitting the floor, she jumped gracefully toward a table that separated them, her coat flourishing behind her, and as her foot set lightly down on the large table, it buckled in the middle and Da'La, unable to maintain her footing, fell back through the table and to the floor.
Tizzdak scrambled toward the other side of the table in a hurry, where Star moved to intercept and attempted to grab him, whereupon Tizzdak slipped from his grasp and he lost his footing, stumbling back into the bar, where the left side of the bar crumbled beneath him. "What the hell is going on?" Star said, in a daze as he stared at the rafters. Da'La, back to her feet in a quick kiyup, rushed Tizzdak.
"Da'La!" Maggie shouted in a hurry, just in time as one of the rafters broke, and came swinging toward the Dek'Har, who nimbly pivoted out of the way as it slammed into Tizzdak. Maggie grabbed her sigil, and began to chant, her hands began to glow a rosy gold, as she moved toward the downed C'Shyk, she prepared a curing prayer. She laid her hand on the C'Shyk, wincing for a moment, then nothing. The rosy gold surrounded the C'Shyk. Maggie kept thinking the floor would come out from under her, but nothing occurred.
Everyone paused breathlessly for a moment.
"What happened?" Star asked, picking himself up from the bar.
"A simple miracle to cure maladies. It won't last, this is beyond my abilities..." Maggie explained.
"How would that do anything?" Star asked as he dusted himself off, pulling out his cigarillo tin, which was crushed.
"He wasn't attacking anyone. He had bad luck, isn't that right, Tizzdak?" Maggie turned to the orange C'Shyk.
"Yeah..." Tizzdak said meekly.
"I beg you pardon, Ma Soeur, but how did you figure zis out?" Da'La asked, moving next to Maggie.
"If you don't think the worst of people, it becomes pretty easy." Maggie explained, "He wasn't going to Cursebreaker Grune's to shake the place down. He was going to him to lift a curse."
"Yeah." Tizzdak confirmed. "I'm a student at Panduster University. A spell went wrong... have you ever heard of an aberration?"
Maggie and Da'La nodded, but Star followed, "No, what's an Aberration?"
"Magic is a... wild force." Tizzdak explained, "First thing they teach you. The complicated somatic actions, finger movements, and the millions of nuances are just a way to tame it for a short while, but Wizards... we don't master it. Sometimes, we forget a nuance, or skip a syllable, or one of a million things goes wrong. A practiced Wizard can feel when something is going wrong and abstain powering the spell. But sometimes, it slips through. We call this an aberration. The results are usually minor spells being cast, someone's skin will turn blue, a small localized rainstorm, one time the entire campus broke out in song."
"Same thing can happen with miracles." Maggie confirmed.
"Well, this time it was slightly more serious." Tizzdak continued, "Bad luck, everything I did ended badly. Usually this kind of thing wears off over time, but not this time, and after the bridge connecting the Energetics Tower and the Alchemic tower crumbled, nearly killing me, I decided to find some help. Cursebreaker Grune was said to be the best when it came to curses. I got his address, and came straight from Wizard's Point here, lost my bag because the gate switched suddenly while I was stepping through. I came by yesterday, but when I grabbed the handle, I accidentally cast a spell, and the handle broke, bringing part of the door. I was so embarrassed I just ran."
"You could have handled that better." Star said.
"First time meeting a respected alumn and I broke his door, I got a little frightened. Realizing that was stupid I came back today. Before I could get a word out I tripped, knocked over a table. I got up to apologize, grabbed a shelf and it came off immediately. I lost balance fell through another table and a cabinet flipped. When I grabbed the sturdiest table to pull myself up, the leg gave and it topsided. It full of potions of course, and they mixed on the ground and blew his wall out. When I found my feet, Grune was on the ground, I apologized, and I just ran."
"Well, it seems your bad luck has just started," Star produced a pair of manacles.
"Star..." Maggie implored, but stopped as the left cuff of the manacle clinked on the floor.
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After a little time, and some judicious application of Curing miracles, the group had coaxed Tizzdak back to Cursebreaker Grune's. After explaining to the large abjurer the nature of the situation, they were surprised that he let out a hearty laugh. He agreed to unweave the curse and take on Tizzdak as an assistant at the shop, to pay for the damages.
All in all, Star thought the fit of bad luck fell out in the favor of Tizzdak. Grune even agreed not to press charges. And after a short visit from Maggie, so did Mr. Cosner. Star didn't press for details.
After a stop off at Tribsky's the three walked back toward Over The Edge as the sunset behind bathed cobble streets and blocks of buildings with orange light, Star having purchased another cigarillo tin, and some stock to fill it. He smoked a cigarillo through the stem that negotiated through his tentacles.
"That was quick thinking, Maggie." He said, as smoke seeped out of his drape of tentacles.
"You too," Maggie returned, "finding the bar and all."
"Beginning to think we three make a good team." Star conceded. "You're pretty reliable in a tight spot."
"Does that mean you're coming to the Opera with me?" Maggie smiled, "I have another ticket." Maggie attempted to sell the idea.
"Not a chance." Star said, his eyes giving off a slight smile.
"So... seriously, not even tilapia? Like with lemon?" Maggie pried.
GMs Notes: This was a part I had a lot of fun with. I have already mentioned that I had planned these three adventures out in the last part, but this one was a good chance for me to work on colorful NPCs. Tizzdak the Unfortunate I thought was a novel way to have a combat sequence, which this was treated as such. The concept of it, is instead of attacks, I rolled on a table to see the bad things that could happen periodically through the fight. It was a creative use of a Miracle spell that Maggies player had that resolved the conflict.
I also had a lot of fun with NPCs. One of the things I like to do is subvert expectations. The race in my world called Vecks, which are giant humanoids with 4 arms, is usually played as kind of idiots. Grune was an opportunity to show that this was a false impression. Vecks are in fact quite intelligent but are rarely given opportunities to grow. Another thing I have fun with is tropes. The old kindly bookstore owner is a good one, but me being the kind of storyteller I am I asked: "What if the Old Kindly Book Store owner, was actually a horrible person, though not the villain?"
As usual, I did make some minor edits from what happened in the story, originally there were two more shop owners they spoke to, and Tribsky was not part of this adventure (he was a random side thing that Maggie's player did). For several reasons I ended up shifting it around and condensing a couple rolls in order to make this fit, as the other two characters were superfluous. And because players are players, they ended up missing some clues I had dropped so if told how it happened the story ends up looking like three jackasses stumbling ass first into a solution. While amusing at the table, as a story I like how this panned out. But the rest was pretty much how it occurred.
So, I want to talk about making NPCs. I've spoken before about my RAPID system, Role, Appearance, Personality, Intonation, and Distinction. When I don't have the time to think up long back stories and motivations for NPCs, I usually just use this system to make them feel more like real people. NPCs are such a good way to inject some personality and worldbuilding, and make your setting come alive.
I start with what the NPCs role in the story (Role), I then make up a few details about what they look like, including at least three pieces of jewelry and accoutrement (Appearance), Then decide what their attitude toward what their role is, their attitude toward the players, and their general temperament (Personality), figure out a voice, a cadence, or a speaking habit (Intonation), and lastly pick something that makes them different. I usually give them a hobby that has little to do with their Role (Distinction).
For instance, Grune's job in the story is a kind of quest giver, and a quest solution. He's a Veck with bluish grey skin who wears a wizard's coat, he's kindly and quite jolly though a little annoyed at the moment doesn't take it out on the players, his voice was deep and he spoke when I played him with a slow cadence, and he makes magic toys though that was not his training. I can't stress enough how useful giving NPCs hobbies is. It makes them feel like they have a life outside of the story. I did the same with Xur and Shao in the last chapter.
So, advice to GMs everywhere. If nothing else, give your NPCs a hobby. You'll be surprised about the difference it makes.
Written By: Jack Shawhan
Proofread and Edited by: Alhana Escher
Original Characters played by:
Donovan Hill - Maggie
Stephen Kirk - Star
Schancier, Whispers of Ja Reyil, and all associated copyright Jack Shawhan, 2020.
