DeepBlue's Vagabond - Act 1

[Deepblue706]

Gortana seems very pleased. "I am told that it was written by a man who lived in what is now Southern Guilder - back when the lands were mostly independent city-states...unfortunately the writer's name escapes me at the moment. But, perhaps we can get back to that later - there is a performance waiting especially for you! Well, actually..." His voice trails as he scratches his chin. "There's a handful of other people inside - I hope you do not mind sharing the theatre with but a single lord, and his entourage? He is a long-time patron of The Silver Arch - we felt it only right allowing him this opportunity, as well." Not really waiting for an answer, he continues. "Good, this way, please!" He eagerly brings you up one of the stairways, and guides you a balcony. Facing away, towards the presently empty stage are three figures: a tall elven man dressed in fashionable courtier's attire, a massive orcish man in clothing a touch less expensive, and a third who sits in a much smaller seat, but in proper proportions.

"Come see me after the performance, and I will have gathered your reward." Gortana whispers, and exits.

"Tell me, Schorbuk, what do you think of Porto Giedion?" The elf asks his small companion, unaware of your presence.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

The halfling turns his bald head to offer a glance of recognition to you as you enter the room. However, his gaze quickly returns to the well-dressed elven man that had just then posed a question.

With a flash of peculiarly perfect, white and straight teeth, he replies in a voice decidedly more baritone and resonant that one expects from his sort.

"I find it quite amusing. I have, of course, not been here long, yet, but from what I've seen so far, its far-flung reputation is well deserved. Certainly nothing like it on the island," he says diplomatically as he rises the short distance to his feet.

His height and frame appear quite typical of his kind, though other features are less so. Of particular note, beyond his hairless pate, is his complexion, which is quite tanned with skin edging ever so faintly toward the leathery, indicating he's seen his fair share--and then some--of sun. The angles of his face, particularly his cheeks, jawline and chin are uncommonly chiseled when compared to the usual roundedness of most halflings. A cleft in that chin yields a decided extra bit of dash to his undeniably winning smile.

Beyond some simple jewelry, he is clad in well-kept midnight blue leathers, a currently collected black cloak, itself chased with the same blue at seams and hem, and simple black, loose-fitting trousers tucked into soft, black leather boot-tops. At his waist is a rapier and the visible pommel of a sheathed dagger, but whatever else he may own appears to be hiding within a small, travel-worn leather pack situated to one side of his recently vacated seat.

He turns to face the new arrivals, clearly expecting an introduction, his pale grey eyes regarding them with an aura of subdued mirth and confidence. If nothing else of his personality has shone so quickly, he at least understands courtesy.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Beneath his wide-brimmed, dark-veiled hat, only Flare's smile is visible, which he immediately turns on the elven noble, and his companion and guard as well. Despite the cloth and leather traveler's outfit that hides every bit of flesh but his darkly tanned fingers (his black leather gloves are fingerless), he nonetheless manages to radiate a benign if eerie presence.

Hello my lord, he says, walking up. I'm Flare, and these are my friends. May we join you? I think we're the only ones here.

[Deepblue706]

Harold claims some of the most delightfully delectable roasted peanuts from a vendor within the theatre, and makes his way to where the others sit.

The two other patrons rise from their seats, and the orc seems a bit bemused. "Uh, Mister Seville?" the elf frowns as he makes a quick hand gesture, dismissing his larger companion as he steps forward. When he comes into better light, you see well that he is middle-aged, but his face is filled with a winning, youthful smile. His eyelids lay relaxed, and tired, but his good posture suggests he may not be so weary. He is dressed in fine, expensive clothing, but only adorns a modest amount of jewelry.

"Good day to you." His voice rings out in perfect clarity, with a smooth and easy tone. "Of course you may join us - I welcome the company of any man or lady of culture." He bows. "You may call me Claudius. Today, we shall be good friends, as act as good friends do. Let us sit together, and enjoy what this fine theatre has to offer."

He gestures towards the seats, inviting you along.

"Are you familiar with this play, by chance?"

Flare:

Spoiler

Show

"What a snooty bastard." whispers a familiar, disembodied voice.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare perks his head up and looks around, seeming distracted for a moment. And then he looks back at Claudius. No, I'm not. Gortana told me a little bit about it. This is the first time it's ever been performed in this age, isn't it? That's pretty exciting.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

A vague cloud of frustration or possibly mild disappointment scuds across the halfling's face, but is quickly replaced by a mild smile.

"Glad you all could join us," he says amenably. "Name's Schorbuk," he adds with a terse, intentional cough and a halfway, sidelong glance toward Claudius.

With a truncated bow, he returns to his raised seat and glances down across the balcony's wall to the stage below. "Yes, this should be quite interesting."

[Deepblue706]

Claudius sits, and turns to Schorbuk. "Now, what I wanted--"

A man steps up on the stage.

"Ah, let's hear this. We can discuss our business later."

The man smiles to you, and begins the prologue.

"If we offend, it is with our good will. That you should think, we come not to offend, but with good will. To show our simple skill, That is the true beginning of our end. Consider, then, we come but in despite. We do not come, as minding to content you, our true intent is. All for your delight, we are not here. That you should here repent you, The actors are at hand. And, by their show, You shall know, all you are like to know."

The orc scratches his head, and turns to Claudius, who sits agape. They both continue to observe in silence.

More enter, and the prologue continues.

"Gentles, perchance you wonder at this show; But wonder on, till truth make all things plain. This man is Pyramus, if you would know" he gestures to one man, dressed in gaudy clothes. "This beauteous lady Thisbe is, certain." he gestures to another man, dressed in women's garb. "This man with lime and roughcast doth present Wall," he gestures to one at the rear. "that vile wall which these lovers sunder, and through Wall's chink, pour souls, they are content to whisper." He points to another. "This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of thorn, presententh moonshine, for, if you will know, by moonshine did these lovers think no scorn to meet at Ninus' tomb, there, there to woo." And he looks to the last of their strage crew. "This girsly beast, which Lion hight by name, the trusty Thisbe coming first by night..." he goes on to tell more, but the man's lack of effective speaking makes your mind quickly wander.

"I wonder if the Lion says anything." says the Orc. Claudius rolls his eyes. "Of course the lion doesn't talk, you nitwit. Now shut up, he's still talking."

"...Let Lion, Moonshine, Wall, and lovers twain at large discourse, while here they do remain."

All exit, save for the ones marked Pyramus and Wall. Wall steps forward, and speaks.

"In this same interlude it doth befall, That I, one Snout by name, present a wall. And such a wall as I would have you think, That had in it a crannied hole or chink."

He holds one hand out, to his side, and makes a small, circular hole with his fingers.

A glance to Claudius finds the lord with his hand rubbing his forehead, obviously finding the performance to be very distasteful. He looks to Flare, Harold, and the man and women who complete their party with a curious eye. "Tell me, would you happen to be that group of fellows that allowed for the theatre to reopen? I know the owner - he mentioned something of a band that matches your description."

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Looking somewhat confused at the monologues, Schorbuk continued to listen and watch, not paying much attention to Claudius' decision to do otherwise. However, the halfling's interest was more curiosity than appreciation. Where he came from, performances were mostly free of the sort of old-world verbal obfuscation and jumbling that this elderly play made ubiquitous use of. He'd heard of the style, of course, but usually in derogatory terms. He was beginning to understand far more why that was the case, and less and less what was being said on stage. Still, its comparative alienness was somehow peculiarly fascinating, almost like a puzzle needing to be solved. In that back of his mind, however, he wondered if the solution to the game was worth the effort.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Munching on a peanut, Harold turns his head from the stage to face the noble and his entourage. The yellow glow of the stage-lights reflects off of Harold's hazel eyes, and the ghost of a smile dances on his lips.
"I wouldn't have bought these peanuts if I'd known that my senses were going to be a'salted anyways."
His handsome face breaks into a wider smile.
"And to answer your question, yes, we're the ones who hunted down the halfling. I wonder about him, though; he was a singular character."

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare's mouth gapes slightly as he stares, somewhat horrified, at the play. His veiled eyes turn toward Claudius in relief. Yes. It's sort of a pity that they didn't let him into their play though, he's a lot more interesting than... umm... why are they talking like that?

[Deepblue706]

Flare:

Spoiler

Show

"Hyeh, Benji sure would make this performance better. Oh, too bad you threw him in prison. But, I guess it's better that way, anyway - he'd probably have stabbed someone by now."

Claudius seems intrigued when Harold confirms their involvement, cracking a slight smile. However, as the performance continues, he finds himself glancing back to the actors, and his face soon becomes awash with grief.

"I saw this play last when I was so very young. Despite it being so long ago, I do recall it to be much better than this...rubbish. The translation is off. They've ruined the dialogue. They've even skipped out on some of the best lines. Good lord, can it get any worse?"

Apparently, Thisbe has entered the stage, and the two have been conversing from opposite sides of the wall for some time.

"Oh, kiss me through the hole of this vile wall!" says Pyramus, hunched slightly, looking through the chink provided by Wall's hand. "I kiss the wall's hole, not your lips at all." replies a rather masculine Thisbe.

"Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me straightway?" He asks, to which Thisbe quickly responds with "I come without delay!" The two exit, and the Wall steps forward.

"Thus have I, Wall, my part discharged so.; And, being done, thus Wall away doth go."

Wall exits, and Lion takes his place. "Those whose gentle hearts do fear, The smallest monstrous mouse that creeps on floor, May now perchance both quake and tremble here, When lion rough in wildest rage doth roar."

"HA!" The orc points to the stage, as he pokes Claudius in the shoulder. "I knew it!" Claudius shakes his head, mumbling aside, "idiot"

Lion continues.

"Then know that I am a lion fell, nor else no lion's dam; For, if I should as lion come in strife into this place, 'twere pity on my life."

Len (a woman with the group who Schorbuk would see to be very tall and muscular) scratches her head. "Wait, did the guy in the lion costume just reassure us he's not a lion? Is this supposed to be a performance for children, or something?"

Fargrim shrugs, and finally speaks. "No idea."

Moon, the man with the lantern, walks beside Lion. "This lanthorn doth the horned moon present; Myself the man i'th' moon do seem to be."

Claudius continues to slump into his seat with each line. He keeps opening his mouth to speak, but he seemingly has no strength of will. He eventually turns back to you. "I hear that maniac you dealt with was quite troublesome. Do you have much experience dealing with those sorts of people?"

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Schorbuk's face continued to twist in confusion, but now he could just be heard to mutter, "Are these supposed to be professionals? Their gestures are remedial, and their evocation is unbelievable. A comedy troupe? Hmmm...." His eyes remained fixed on the murder occuring upon the stage, which made it obvious his muttered thoughts were intended for he alone to contemplate.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare smiles a bit. Well, we're kind of new at it. But it seems to me that we've got some talent. Maybe we'll make a career out of it.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold rests his forefinger on his pointed chin, absently.
"Well, maniac is as maniac does. He tried to kill us all in a sort of jocular, easy-going way. Still, I can see what drove him to madness. Experience? Well..."
He reaches a hand into the pocket of his black embroidered vest and withdraws a small square of stiff paper.
"My card," he says, handing it over

The card reads

Spoiler

Show

Harold Betruger
Musician, Problem-solver, Outrageous Liar
Reasonable rates, friendly service, great renown.

No love potion problems, please

[Deepblue706]

Claudius glances at the card with a grin. "Very intriguing, friend. You seem like you have a variety of talents..."

He then looks to Len, assessing her figure from the short distance between their seats. She frowns at him, displeased with his staring. "What?" She asks, a bit flustered, which prompts a slight laugh from Claudius. "You're quite a large woman - I'm sure you could wrestle a bear! Have you any town watch, or perhaps even military experience?" Len arches her brow a bit and replies with a question of her own, "Maybe. What's it to ya?" Claudius maintains his smile as he answers, "Why, no reason at all."

He looks back to the stage, but speaks to the pint-sized Schorbuk aside. "This is certainly no comedy troupe - and this story is certainly not to be told in a way to make us laugh! It's a mockery of a most excellent play, about two lovers, who must deny one another because of their houses...it is nothing but tragedy."

The odd performance continues with Thisbe entering once more. "This is Old Ninny's Tomb..."

"NINUS' TOMB! The only 'ninny' here is you, lout..." Claudius grunts through his teeth.

"...where is my love?"

Lion roars at her from across the stage, and Thisbe cries as she flees. She drops her mantle. Lion exits, and finally Pyramus returns.

"Sweet moon, I thank thee for thy sunny beams; I thank thee, moon, for shining now so bright; For, by thy gracious, golden, glittering gleams, I trust to take of truest Thisbe sight."

He notes the mantle, and takes it into hand.

"Oh, dainty duck! Oh, dear! Thy mantle good, what, stained with blood? Approach, ye furies fell! O Fates, come, come, Cut thread and thrum; Quail, crush, conclude, and quell!"

He reveals a dagger, and pretends to plunge it deep into his heart.

"Thus die I, thus, thus, thus. Now am I dead; Now am I fled; My soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light; Moon, take thy flight. Now die, die, die, die, die."

Thisbe returns.

"Asleep, my love?" She looks closer. "What, dead, my dove? O Pyramus, arise! Speak, speak. Quite dumb? Dead, dead? A tomb. Must cover thy sweet eyes. These lily lips, this cherry nose, these yellow cowslip cheeks, are gone, are gone!"

She takes the dagger into her hands.

"Come, trusty sword, Come, blade, my breast imbrue!"

She stabs herself.

"And farewell, friends. Thus Thisbe ends. Adieu, adieu, adieu."

After a few silent moments, both Pyramus and Thisbe rise, and the rest of the cast returns to the stage. With a deep sigh, Claudius glances to each of you, and then stands to applaud the performance. The orc seems rather enthusiastic.

"Thank you, thank you!" says Pyramus' actor. "Would you care for the epilogue?"

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Smiles faintly, but seems to defer in this matter to the noble nearby, munching peanuts idly.

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

You can tell that Flare is grimacing. Uhh... maybe next time? It sure is a lot to absorb all at once.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Only an absent blink serves as reply to Claudius' confirmation that those upon the stage were playing at being serious actors. Then he turned back to it, eyes remaining somewhat blank. He really shouldn't have felt the urge to heckle, after all, he rather hated to receive it, and he was one to strive to avoid being fairly labeled a hypocrite. It was good fortune to his personal repuation that the play was, thankfully, coming to a close.

When it finally breathed its last, Schorbuk even applauded mildly in tandem with Claudius, but he didn't bother to stand. It was over; now he could run away and try to rinse his brain clean of its memory.

...epilogue...epilogue... The very word stung. An epilogue meant more pain; more pity. Shrinking back in his seat, something that made him effectively disappear behind the railing from the perspective of those on the stage, he looked to Claudius, and shook his head vigorously as he pleaded in a tiny whisper, "No, no, please, no."

[Deepblue706]

Claudius shakes his head at the performers. "Sadly, good fellows, my associates and I have no more idle time, and we must be off to endure the monotonous business of our daily lives. Perhaps we'll come by to see you again, sometime soon!"

Claudius looks to each of you (save the orc, who seems to be disappointed that he won't get to see more), and gestures towards the door. "Would you like to join me at my estate for a short while?"

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare rises quickly, relieved. Of course. I could scarcely refuse such an offer. He hurries to the back of the theatre, not even waiting for his companions.

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

"[coloor=maroon]Absolutely,[/color]" says Schorbuk while shrugging his small, rather flaccid pack into place upon his back.

"I hope you stock some suitably aggressive spirits in your cellar. I feel a peculiar need for some right about now." He smiles widely, clearly betraying the remark as more humor than sarcasm.

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold hops to his feet and bows.
"That sounds delightful! And perhaps later I can show you folks what a real performance of the arts is."

[Deepblue706]

As you rise from your seats, Len and Fargrim show no objection, and follow you to the exit. As you reach the lobby, you are met once more by Mr. Gortana. "Enjoy the performance, my good fellows?"

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold strides forward and places his hand on Gortana's shoulder, looking into his eyes.
"I will tell you, Mr. Gortana," he says, each word carrying gravity and weight.
"I'm a very urbane sort of person, and something of an artist myself. Let me tell you that in all my years I've never seen a performance quite like that one. Truly, your troupe occupies a station unique in all the pantheon of the muses. But..." he says, glancing from side to side.
"You and I, we are artists. We understand what lies beneath the surface of these backdrops and greasepaints. For us, we can truly appreciate the essence of the play. Others, alas, are not so endowed." He gives an aggrieved sigh, as if in despair at the grubby unwashed masses.
"I fear that if you perform this play for any but the most elite circles, your audience will miss the kernel of gold at the center, and your craft will not be appreciated. But show it to those worthies who understand culture, those nobles and merchants and priests who really can see beyond the crude earthy exterior...and I believe you will have something. Not for the common man is such a work as this."
He backs up a bit and straightens up.
"Now...I believe we few were promised some small recompense for our service?"

[Deepblue706]

Gortana nods. "Thank you for your honest words. I will certainly take your advice into account." He spends a moment in silence.

But then, his eyes light up. "Oh, yes, your reward!" He fishes around his many pockets, and then finally withdraws from one several silver cards with fine lettering. He eagerly plants one in each of your hands, bowing with a smile. Looking down at the card, you notice an elegant script, that reads as follows: "In recognition for being among the noblest of guests to visit the Silver Arch, you are hereby granted free access to this fine establishment, for life. Simply present this card to the ticket master, and you will be seated in any seat of your choosing, promptly, for any production performed here."

Gortana's grin widens. "Truly, this is a priceless reward. Not but a handful of men in the city still hold "Silver Cards". I hope you are pleased?"

[Velvet Elvis]

Schorbuk

Schorbuk restrained a snicker as the proprieter of the theatre was being convinced of the unusual quality of the play. After such an ordeal, he found relief in being amused at the man's clever twisting of words. Even so, he'd convinced himself he actually did need that drink sometime soon....

[The Great Skenardo]

Harold Betruger
Harold keeps his face in an expression of happiness, although it hardens around the edges as he takes the silver card.
"Ah. A princely gift, Mr. Gortana. I wonder though, if you would indulge me in one last request?"

[EvilRoeSlade]

Flare

Flare leans over and murmurs in Harold's ear. You are going to ask for money, aren't you? Because I really think he should give us money.

[Deepblue706]

Mr. Gortana smiles with a little less ease. "Yes, sir, what would that be?" he asks, with a hint of anxiety.

[Deepblue706]

"Sir, are you alright?" Gortana asks, a bit confused by the following silence.