2020-10-10 Flimflamigans

Flimlanigans

Participants: No Moccassins Trevor Ralph Crow Sinopia

Storyteller: Eochaid

Location: The Red Lion Tavern

Date and Time: October 10, 2020 9:30 am

Summary: A literal tavbern scene to bring people up to date on ongoing plots that I am aware of

Mood Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ch1aVmjvYTI

The Red Lion Tavern is a fixture of Changeling society and so sees people who would otherwise never mingle interacting. All but the Thallain themselves are given ready hospitality, the occasional Dark Kin has shown up but only of the Moirae or Keremet. Marcus, the taller of the Boggans (to those who can notice such things) has the floor today while Cillian is off in the backroom tending the stew. While other meals are provided, you would be foolish to ask for anything other than a bowl of stew and a mug of mead. At one of the tables, a gnarled battle hardened Autumn Sidhe Lady, openly wearing livery of House Liam, sits in hushed conversation with one of the Enchanted, at another a haughty Arcadian Sidhe Lord wearing the livery of House Varich shoots daggers at the pair. "It's an open violation of the Escheat!" he openly accuses the Liam, "You have brought a Mortal into a Holding". Silence falls upon the gathered crowd as the situation becomes frought with political tension.

Trevor can be found at one of the tables on the edge of the veranda, a fair distance away from the others. Lazily smoking a cigar as he swirls a glass of mead in hand, making sure to remain downwind of the rest--he's a very polite smoker. The ruckus being raised by his fellow sidhe turns his attention in their direction, and he lofts a brow in curiosity. He reaches up to take the cigar from his mouth, peering towards the Varich sidhe through a billow of smoke. "I see no breech of Escheat here," he says. He gestures with his glass of mead towards the Liam sidhe and her companion. "The enchantment is holding, isn't it? When it ends, the Mists will do their work." He looks towards the Liam and the enchanted mortal. "It's a beautiful dream, isn't it?" he says. "For you, that's all it is, and all it'll ever be. Just a dream." His easy-going, laid-back smile turns warm and kindly. "But that doesn't mean it's worthless. What do we have if we don't have our dreams?"

Sitting in the very backest corner of the tavern, at a table that's less table and more just a low shelf with a stool, is Sinopia. It's allowed her, however, to tuck her back up against the wall and watch all the coming and goings in the tavern as she works her way through a bowl of stew and a mug of mead. She's watching the back and forth between the others like the mundane might watching a movie as it unfolds before them.

Crow steps through the doorway, a single hand rising to lower the hood of her long coat and tapping two fingers to her temple in jaunty salute to the "Afternoon Marcus. Could I get the usual, please?"

She's moving to take a seat as the Varich suddenly gives voice to his outburst. She looks longingly at her usual table before sighing quietly to herself and turning to the glowering Varich. Just as she is about to speak, Trevor pipes up from the back, and she nods amiably enough with his surmisation. "Just so. His enchantment seems to be holding, and I can feel that he's a dreamer from here." she nods to the Lady currently speaking with the dreamer. "And I am sure her Ladyship has the situation well in hand. Unless the proprieters have any issue with the situation?" looking over to Marcus, who shakes his head, she nods decisively. "Then I see no issue with it."

A large man in a large chair, Ralph had arrived in LA, put feelers out for fae alchohol and made a beeline. Leaning back on the rear legs of the seat, legs crossed and enjoying a drink. The mention of the Escheat perks his ears up though, the chair coming down onto all fours again, slapping against the floor as he gazed over. An attempt was made to be surreptitious about it, but Ralph was never the sneaky type.

The Dreamer, caught in the middle of what is clearly a classic and classist conflict not of his choosing, hunches down a little until Trevor's words, and then Crow's. Then he nods, fortified by the support. The Liam Lady, meanwhile scowls daggers. "Were we not in a Mew," she pauses to look at Marcus, "Mew? Freehold?". The boggan politely smiles and responds "We don't much care for what it's called," before looking at the House Varich Knight intently, "as long as the Right of Demesne is respected." Nodding, and continuing her traing of thought, "were we not governed by the Right of Demesne, I would call you out, Serrah. I hear there is a Tourney coming up. I expect to see you there." The Varich, suficiently backed into a corner, nods "I accept your challenge and will see you there." The mortal, having recovered his backbone, looks to the Varich knife and offers up "May your blade chip and shatter" and a chill wind blows through the valley beyond.

Trevor glances between the pair, the coal of his cigar glowing hotly as he pulls at it. He glances up at that cold breeze that sweeps through the valley, swirling the fog bank of cigar smoke he has built up around himself. "Well," he says. "There's an omen if ever I saw one. And I see plenty of 'em." He looks back to the Varich sidhe. "Good luck there, buddy. Got the feeling you're gonna need it."

Crow nods at the accord. So long as it didn't come to blows in the Tavern itself, she was content with the resolution. "I'll look forward to seeing you both there." nodding once again, she turns to her usual table, before pausing and clearly reconsidering, directing herself towards Trevor's table, resting her hand on the back of one of the other chairs encircling it. "Mind if I join you? Figure it's about time we met." she offers the man a small smile.

Ralph let out a low 'oooo' at the dreamer's retort, hiding a smirk behind his flagon. Without a mien he didn't need to be drawing too much attention, especially when Liams were involved. His seat tipped back once more, glad it had calmed down at least, but still watching the exchange, muttering something about tourneys that was lost to the background noise.

Marcus putters around the tables completely effortlessly, chairs pull themselves in out of his way (as one would expect of a freeholder in their freehold) and the tables largely clean themsleves. Mugs full of mead appear on each of the guest tables in turn, and stew where it has been requested. The two trolls regard the newcomers, glad that the situation was resolved peaceably, the taller one muttering "I can't believe we actually need to consider posting rules," he says glaring daggers at the Varich, "I remember the days when people just /knew/ the Escheat." The Varich Autumn Sidhe recoils as though slapped and stands up, leaves through the Trod, noteably without paying their bill.

Trevor rolls his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. He reaches into one of his belt pouches for a coin, flicking it with his thumb over to the Varich's table. It lands with a clatter, rolling in place before settling down. "Sorry to make a scene," he says to Marcus. "Much as I hate to cater to stereotypes, you know how Varich can get." He harrumphs, reaching over the railing to tap the ash from his cigar. "God I hope -I- never end up like that," he grumbles to himself. "Bad enough I get folks all wiggy over me soon as they find out I carry a badge." Trevor looks up to Crow, offering a warm smile. "Please," he says, nodding to the seat across from him. "If you don't mind my horrible old cigar, you're more than welcome to join me." He reaches up to offer a hand. "Ser Trevor Mason ap Beaumayn. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Crow rolls her eyes at the lack of manners before moving to take her own seat, shaking Trevor's hand. "Dame Crow, at your service" she smiles, waving off the cigar comment. "I've been exposed to far worse." she snorts. "Have at." Accepting the meal as it's brought over, she presses a coin into Marcus' palm. "In addition to what's owed, as apology." she lets out a breath through her nose, shaking her head. "Unfortunately, even those of the Changeling way remain somewhat reticent in their ways." She nods to her table companion as Marcus leaves. "I don't think I've seen you about before. You freshly arrived, or just been hanging out in the background till now?"

Ralph took a draw on renewed mead, shooting an appreciative nod to Marcus regardless of if he was looking. Glancing up to the doormen he nodded at the sentiment. "I mean, it's not hard. Don't fuck anything up for the rest of us." he offered with a shrug, confident in at least his baseline view of it.

Trevor takes up his glass of mead, tipping back a swallow. "Nice to meet you, Dame Crow," he says. He looks down the way that the Varich took to leave, shaking his head. "The Accordance was over fifty years ago. You'd -think- they'd understand how things are done, by now," he says. "But I guess they still have a hard time with Earthly time and space. Damn shame, you ask me." He looks over at Ralph with a nod. "You're not wrong," he says. "How hard is it to just be polite and have some respect?"

Sinopia was more then a little zoned out there for a bit, looking off into who knows what. But suddenly she blinks and she's back in the here and now. Big eyes blink around the tavern as she tries to get her baring's once more. She still has mead and soup, so that's a plus!

Crow nods easily to Ralph's comment. "Just so. But the mortals have a saying that the only thing rarer than common sense is common courtesy, so at least it's not a thing that is necessary limited to ourselves." she chuckles. "I certainly appreciate people not making trouble where none needs be. Especially with everything that's going on at the moment."

Trevor draws a steady pull from his cigar, peering at Crow through the billow of smoke. "But what -is- going on?" he asks. "I've heard a few things, and seen some things in my dreams, but... it's hard to fit everything together right at the moment. I feel like I'm missing some pieces to get a complete picture."

Ralph's attention snapped to Trevor and Crow, since he wasn't really expecting a response from anyone, but was no less happy he got one. "I'd heard that one." he offered, glancing to Trevor and back. "Good point. Can't say I've had any time to get a feel for things here yet."

Crow lets out a long breath through their nose, letting out a small laugh. "I wish I knew. I really do." she shakes her head. "In terms of most important, the fact that the Silver Path is not working is probably the most important. And we have had Thallain walk it with no impediment." she begins on her food. "But tell me what you've heard so far, and I'll try my best to elucidate on each. It will be easier than just trying to remember everything off the top of my head.

Trevor nods to Ralph. "I'm pretty new in town myself," he says. "Still getting a feel for things." He looks back to Crow. That news, that the Silver Path no longer functions, has his eyes getting wide. "Holy God damn -bat- shit," he grunts. "The -Path- has failed? And Thallain..." His eyes narrow, and he growls lowly. "The thing I've heard most recently was about this tournament coming up. Something bad is supposed to happen. As Lord Hawthorne's court Seer, I have an interest in making sure that it -doesn't- happen."

Marcus nods and makes a warding gesture, whereupon glyphs of Sovereign flash in the air at the boundary of the bar. "So we've heard, we're well passed our adventuring days. Places like this need to exist for the greater whole to survive and we need to bunker down just like we did during the Interregnum." He nods at Crow, "No offense Dame. I don't mean to bring up All That. But with the Silver Path ... shall we say 'on the fritz', we need to bunker down like we did back then."

Sinopia pulls a foot up so her heel catches the edge of her stool and she can soft of lean on that knee as she watches and listens to the other talking. A brow perks up at Trevor, but rather then speak, she just puts another spoonful of stew into her mouth. A look of confusion flickers, but it's washed away with a drink of mead. She's heard names, so she's trying to put them to faces.

"Dame Crow! And my kinswoman Sinopia!" bellows No Moccasins after striding into the tavern and spotting a pair of familiar faces. "Truly, the Great Spirit has smiled upon me today!" She slaps her muscled arms across her chest in an "X" and grins ear to ear.

Crow nods as she chews her food, swallowing it and washing it down with a mouthfull of the mead. "Aye. The Silver path and the Thallain. It's a whole thing. I'm currently looking for a way to resolve it, but it's slow going." she shrugs. "I'd heard of the trouble with the Tournament. Part of the reason I'm going along is to try and help keep the peace. We'll see how well that goes." She waves MArcus off. "No worries, Marcus. I wish more people would take the same care of themselves." they roll their eyes. "But honestly, there are a number of individuals that are needing consistent shepharding." she shakes her head, mug clasped in one hand as they swirl the contents. She looks up at the Nunnehi's entrance. "No Moccasins. It's good to see you, my friend." she kicks out a chair, gesturing towards it. "Come and sit with us. I'm catching the seer up with the general state of the Caer."

Trevor looks over to Marcus and nods his head. "The Accordance was before my time, but I heard plenty of stories," he says. "I had my Chrysalis in '86. The Beaumayn who taught me fought in the war. It sounded... awful." No Moccasins is given a look, his expression warm and kindly. "Yes, please do join us, miss," he says. He nods his head to the chair Crow offered. "The more the merrier. I'm Ser Trevor Mason ap Beaumayn. It's nice to meet you."

"And of course Thallain are taking advantage..." muttered Ralph, drawing on his mead as a newcomer announced themself. He went back to watching from his table, a (possibly) contemplative silence falling over him for the time being while other news came about.

Sinopia blinks up from her bowl of stew at the arrival of No Moccasins. A small hand lifts as she gives a brief little wave in answer. She keeps to her little corner, well out of the way of those that might not notice her so much. Safe is better.