HLoM: The Firebird, Chapter 1

[Nathan of the FoS]

Cattia ignores the fox. She politely corrects the Baroness, "It's Freyif Falssen Jarenberg*, or you may call me Cattia, Baroness von Zarovich. Right this way." She moves to direct the party toward the Burning Scroll.

*I think this is right, eek. I should probably learn my own name and correct form of address.

Technically, the full formal title would be Freyif [Cattia] yf-Falssen Jarenberg, but that's a lot of F's, for one thing, and duplicates the "yf" (meaning "wife") for another, so I kinda like eliding the second "yf" in this particular case. No wonder she offers Cattia as an alternative.

[Isabella]

"It's Freyif Falssen Jarenberg*, or you may call me Cattia, Baroness von Zarovich. Right this way." She moves to direct the party toward the Burning Scroll.

"That-that would be lovely, Freyif-if Falssen Jarenburg," Richard replied, with a grateful smile. "We... ah. Would you be terribly angry if-if I-I met you there? My friend has ventured into-into town to find an acquaintance of his - I-I-I should find him, to tell him where I-I will be."

[NeoTiamat]

"It's Freyif Falssen Jarenberg*, or you may call me Cattia, Baroness von Zarovich. Right this way."

"Well then you must call me Elena, Cattia." The Baroness said with an innocent smile. It was this very girlish, wide-eyed smile, the kind of smile that promised shared secrets, bonding over unattainable loves, frolicking in the grass, and so forth. Lena had not actually frolicked in the grass since she was four (in Barovia this was an excellent way to make the acquaintance of a wide range of unique blood-sucking parasites), but she could still do 'innocent' with the best of them. Not a dangerous thought in her pretty little head, no sirree. "My deepest condolences about poor Ranulf, you must be heartbroken, poor thing."

"Though I suppose Renhalt is a tower of support." Lena's smile became marginally less innocent as she examined Cattia's brother, and then turned utterly sphinx-like as she considered the non-Mulani in the welcoming party. "...as is Vasili. Or Leila. You're a tower of support, aren't you Leila?"

"Do the Falssen's have a new heir with the Gyrfalcon sign yet?" Lena asked absently.

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Ushka, meanwhile, was feeling mortally insulted. No one, but no one ignored Bystroushka the Fox and lived to tell the tale. So the little, fluffy red fox was stalking along behind Cattia, ready to pounce and rend her throat out when the opportunity presented itself. Or nibble on the edge of her sarong before scampering off, anyway, one of the two.

[DeepShadow of FoS]

Vasili holds out his hands to take the Baroness' bags. "I think you'll like the Burning Scroll, Baroness. Most people think it's named for an arcane invocation, but it's actually a reference to cinnamon bark, one of the Thott totems. A matron of the house started it many generations ago, and it's one of the oldest and best boarding houses in Vestrdyrr. They flavor several signature dishes with cinnamon, including a hot beverage that is actually ignited before imbibing."

Assuming he actually gets the bag, he tries to pull the party toward their lodgings.

"Our rooms are on the second floor overlooking the common room, which I'm told is sufficiently prestigious for a baroness. Your room is next to the one I share with Renhalt, but you share it with Cattia, so you won't suffer for company."

He smiles brightly, oblivious to the fact that suffering might be exactly what Lena will be doing in Cattia's presence.

Bluff check to draw attention to the fight while appearing clueless:
[dice]0[/dice]+14=29

[Nathan of the FoS]

"Richard! I--ah, my goodness."

Marcel appears out of a largish crowd of merchants to hail Richard, then looks around the group with poorly concealed surprise. "So, is this the welcoming committee?" he asks, seemingly caught between amusement and bemusement.

[Isabella]

"Dear Baroness-" Richard murmured, eying both Lena and Cattia. He had never been the best with subtext - he still vividly recalled a Darkonian Ezran he had known, where every comment she made had borne some double meaning that he couldn't fathom. But growing up with four sisters meant he had some senses regarding women, and they were all going off right now. "That-that hardly seems... I-I am deeply sorry, Freyif, to hear, ah..."

"They flavor several signature dishes with cinnamon, including a hot beverage that is actually ignited before imbibing."

Marcel appears out of a largish crowd of merchants to hail Richard, then looks around the group with poorly concealed surprise. "So, is this the welcoming committee?" he asks, seemingly caught between amusement and bemusement.

"It-it is indeed," Richard said, quickly gathering his bags and moving to follow Vasili. He seemed to subconsciously pause for a moment before stepping over the border proper, then shook his head and carried on. "Come join us, I-I pray, they have offered us a-a place that has something to eat."

"That sounds lovely," he told Vasili, as he walked. "Especially after a-a week of storms. Might I-I-I ask how one drinks something that, ah, that has been set on fire?"

[NeoTiamat]

"...Thank you Vasili." Lena said, casting a narrowed look the Borcan's way. That explanation was getting more interesting with every passing minute. Well, Lena had never lacked for confidence, she could handle Cattia's dislike with equanimity. "What's the name of this flambeed beverage, if I dare ask?"

[Revka et al]

"Well then you must call me Elena, Cattia." The Baroness said with an innocent smile. ... Not a dangerous thought in her pretty little head, no sirree. "My deepest condolences about poor Ranulf, you must be heartbroken, poor thing."

"Though I suppose Renhalt is a tower of support."

Cattia matches Elena’s innocent look* and beams with gratitude. “Thank you, Elena, for your kind words. Yes, my family has been a great strength to me.”

"Do the Falssen's have a new heir with the Gyrfalcon sign yet?" Lena asked absently.

At this, Cattia’s friend blanches and excuses herself.** Cattia makes her a hasty promise to meet later, then turns to an appalled glare at Elena but says nothing.

"Dear Baroness-" Richard murmured, eying both Lena and Cattia. ..."That-that hardly seems... I-I am deeply sorry, Freyif, to hear, ah..."

Cattia’s face softens quickly as Richard shows his discomfort. “Come now, Elena, you’ve made Richard uncomfortable. Thank you, Freiherr Blackwood, for your concern, but it has been a year now and I have found peace and growth in overcoming such a loss.”


* Bluff check to look innocent
[dice]0[/dice]
+13=22

** I don’t know what the DC’s would be, but I’m guessing Perception checks to notice the Lily of the Valley tattoo would be in order. That was Cattia’s sister-in-law.

[DeepShadow of FoS]

With Leila on his shoulder again, Vasili leads the group carrying Lena's bag and trying to talk backwards while walking forwards.

"It's called Cindergout, but there are actually a couple of variations depending upon how much alcohol you want in it. There's even a 'virgin' variety where the burning layer of schnapps floating on the top burns off almost all the alcohol, and the rest is a coffee extract with cream. Most people blow it out before they drink, but letting it burn remains a popular stunt. I must warn you, though, not to experiment too much. If you bring your own cinnamon, or make it with a spell, and you shake it over the drink repeatedly to make more flames, they get a little irate."

At the doors of the Burning Scroll, he hands Lena's bag to a footman and opens the door into the common room. While holding it open, he parts his lips a little and tries to whisper without moving them.*

<Great work out there, Lena. One more little show with Cattia in the common room to set the tone for your visit.>

*Bluff check, with Leila on his shoulder using Aid Another

[dice]0[/dice]
(+14 to Bluff, +2 for Leila's aid, makes a total of 22)

[NeoTiamat]

“Come now, Elena, you’ve made Richard uncomfortable. Thank you, Freiherr Blackwood, for your concern, but it has been a year now and I have found peace and growth in overcoming such a loss.”

"My deepest apologies, Mr. Blackwood." The Baroness said smoothly, fluttering her eyelashes at Richard. "It's been a very long journey."

"If you bring your own cinnamon, or make it with a spell, and you shake it over the drink repeatedly to make more flames, they get a little irate."

"Is that the voice of bitter experience speaking?" Lena said mildly, following Vasili inside the inn, Ushka trotting at her heels. The fox lifted her whiskered muzzle to the air and sniffed, the little black nose twitching like mad. So many smells!

<Great work out there, Lena. One more little show with Cattia in the common room to set the tone for your visit.>

Lena's smile -- a most multifaceted construct -- curled up at the edge.

"You didn't mention, Richard, that your friends were the Isfahanis." She said, turning her attentions to the Mordentishman for the moment. "There must be quite a story in that acquaintance."

[Isabella]

VIEW CONTENT:

Sense motive >.>
[dice]0[/dice]
+8. Ha.

“Come now, Elena, you’ve made Richard uncomfortable. Thank you, Freiherr Blackwood, for your concern, but it has been a year now and I have found peace and growth in overcoming such a loss.”

"My deepest apologies, Mr. Blackwood." The Baroness said smoothly, fluttering her eyelashes at Richard. "It's been a very long journey."

Richard furrowed his eyebrows and glanced between the two women, before saying, "I-I-I confess myself ignorant of all details concerning your loss, but I-I am glad to hear you have found peace with it, if-if not glad to hear of the necessity."

He shook his head as they entered the Burning Scroll, letting the man there take his mule and silently mouthing 'Freiherr Blackwood' to himself.

"It's called Cindergout... I must warn you, though, not to experiment too much. If you bring your own cinnamon, or make it with a spell, and you shake it over the drink repeatedly to make more flames, they get a little irate."

"They do not condone play-playing with one's food?" Richard asked, with a smile. "A-a pity. It-it sounds lovely, nevertheless."

"Careful, young Master Blackwood," Marcel warned. "It is a very hot and spicy drink, fire or no."

"I-I shan't know until I-I try it, and I-I-I didn't come across the world to-to not try the local cuisine." Richard replied. "I-I've tried curries at-at Cyrus' behest. With luck, I-I will survive - provided I do not set myself aflame."

"You didn't mention, Richard, that your friends were the Isfahanis." She said, turning her attentions to the Mordentishman for the moment. "There must be quite a story in that acquaintance."

"My friends are two of them, my-my lady," Richard joked, with a slight glance at Altan and Renhalt, "though the rest, and all of their kin, seek-seek so kindly to-to make me just as welcome. But you-you-you will have to forgive me as for-for the story. The truth is-is too much to be believed, and I-I do not lie well enough to-to otherwise entertain."

"Tell the truth, and let your stories be judged as they may!" Marcel interjected. "The tales you and your sister have told me were quite exciting, and I have never doubted their truthfulness."

"<High Mordentish> Must you-you betray me?" Richard murmured aside, with exaggerated pains, before switching back into his accented Vaasi. "Very well, we-we met in Dementlieu, some-some five years back. There was a-a... something of a-a minor revolution, at the-the time. You will have to-to wait until I-I've seated and eaten something for me to-to tell anything more, as I-I shall not otherwise do it any justice."

[DeepShadow of FoS]

The porter carries Lena's bag to her room, and Leila slips down from Vasili's shoulder to follow and observe.* Vasili whispers briefly to Lena to let her know her bag is safe.

As the party is being seated, Vasili orders appetizers to share: a large platter of kabsa over rice, and cinnamon chips with fruit relish and chutney. He won't be drinking, but anyone else is welcome to do so.

* +25 to Stealth checks in Tiny form, if you need to make a roll

[NeoTiamat]

"Ah, the Hazlani kitchen. The ritual immolation of one's stomach." Lena murmured, as she sat down at the table and pondered what was safe to eat. Barovian food tended towards heavy and bland, and Dementlieuse fare towards a myriad sauces. Hazlani cooking, with its spices and cinnamon, was something that she looked upon with considerable respect. Kebabs and rice were safe, however. "A light wine, if you please."

Ushka, while human-like in many ways, was not invited to sit at the table. The little red fox maneuvered around the table instead, looking for a weak soul that would let a kebab drop down to the level of a fox's nose. Such a person would make Ushka an ally for life, her beseeching eyes said.

"Now that we're seated, I do want to hear this story." Lena said, sipping the wine. One lesson learned over a diplomatic career was that local water was not your friend. "I studied in the University of Dementlieu for several years -- Department of Arcane Sciences -- but that was before the unrest."

[Isabella]

Richard sighed as he seated himself. He took a minute to remove his gauntlets, revealing his scarred hands. He then partitioned an amount of the appetizers not exceeding 1/8th of the total amount onto his plate, and neatly devoured it with such speed it was uncertain if he could even taste it. Afterwards, he ordered the maple-cinnamon glazed ham, a pot of tea, and a draught of Cindergout. After a bit of fork-jousting with the panther, he caved in and ordered the adobo pork loin for Maya. She had not had her supper yet, and it was best not to leave her hungry, or she might decide the fox looked delightfully delicious.

"You are an-an anchor in a-a stormy port, good sir," he thanked Vasili.

"Now that we're seated, I do want to hear this story." Lena said, sipping the wine.

"I-I haven't the skill to-to tell it, but I-I-I will attempt, my lady," Richard replied, setting his fork carefully on the edge of his plate.

"Where should I-I start...? We — C-Cyrus, Darius, and I-I-I — all roomed at the-the same lodgings, a-a mansion that had been converted to a-a hotel of sorts. My father was of the-the opinion it was all rather bohemian..." Richard fished around in his cloak while he spoke, removing a silver griffin signet ring from an inner pocket and slipping it onto a finger. "A-a, one of the fellow residents extended an-an invitation to all of us, to attend a-a masquerade at the Tessier gallery. That night is-is when when the-the riots hit."

"A-a group had been using magic to, ah, to-to worsen the unrest. Cyrus and I-I were still at the gallery, at the-the time, so I-I think we were sheltered, in some ways," he continued, eyes growing distant for a moment. "But Darius had-had stepped out, and I-I think he caught the worst of the chaos. Suffice it to say, it-it was quite exciting. Not-not something I-I would care to relive."

[Revka et al]

Cattia sits at the edge of the group, half-listening to Richard’s tale and picking daintily at her food. She glances around the room from time to time, keeping an eye out for excuses to escape the group. When she notices Ushka, she slips a bit of chicken to her (if she’ll take it), mildly curious to see the creature’s reaction to the “foreign” food.