BBUG ... Big Bad Undead Guy

Desperately, Jyslin and those of her family resilient enough to have withstood the horrors that had lumbered through the shattered street gate threw their weight against the Inn's iron reinforced, oak double doors. The youngest had stood no chance and had fled almost immediately when the gate had failed. The sobs and whimpers from where they huddled in booths, under tables and behind the bar with the non-combatants sounded loud in the unnatural silence that permeated the place. Misty whisplets of creeping fog curled their way inside under the door and pooled around the assorted lower appendages that one might expect in a family of Tieflings. Those fortunate enough to be shod in boots were spared the worst for the sensation of it crawling purposefully across hide or hoof was gooseflesh inducing nightmare fuel.

That the attack came soundlessly only intensified the sense of wrongness each person witnessing the event experienced. The doors rocked with such violence that the sturdy crossbar beam, well worn but stout nonetheless, creaked and bowed while those attempting to bar the way were momentarily pushed backwards several inches. Yelling instructions to rally her kinfolk, Jyslin sought to ignore the creeping sense of dread that was settling in her stomach as her hooves skidded against a flooring made slick by the penetrating moisture. She threw her weight back against the wood, scrabbling for leverage on the damp flagstones to brace the doors. Together they strove to hold back the inevitable ... that which was out there, was soon to be in here. 

Rocked backwards again, almost a foot this time, the defenders found themselves dodging arm long splinters as the beam bent under a force beyond its capacity to resist. It yet held, barely, but had taken such damage that Jyslin doubted it had much more in it. One more blow from the lumbering monster in the courtyard and that which lurked in the fog would have access to the lives within. Almost as one they lurched forward yet again, more out of despair this time than from any sense that they might prevail. Those among the family and guests who held to a particular deity or other, sought solace in prayer on the off chance one of the Realm's assorted Higher Powers might be paying attention. 

Alas, it did not seem that miraculous succor was in the script, for the doors exploded inward in a shower of splinters and a hail of broken pieces. The would be defenders themselves were thrown a goodly distance from the entrance by the force of the attack, scattered in a disarrayed arc on the floor. Before anyone could gather their wits and attempt to rise from the prone and prostrate positions they had landed in, IT lumbered in through the open threshold carrying both the cloying mists and a stomach turning stench with it as it came. 

Few in range of the smell the thing gave off had stomachs or wills strong enough to control the immediate need to disgorge any contents their stomachs carried and IT's progress into the building went unimpeded. Wiping her mouth with the back of her left wrist, Jyslin cursed her luck to have landed directly in the creature's path. Still reeling from the hard landing, she lifted her eyes from floor to get her first good look at the thing and tried to scuttle backwards to give herself distance. A maneuver foiled by the placement of one of the roof support columns which she unexpectedly backed into. 

Swallowing and schooling her features into an exaggerated grimace to try to prevent the waves of nausea from overpowering her at such close range, there still only being around 4 or so feet between herself and the hulking brute, Jyslin stared at the dead thing which yet moved with unconcealed revulsion. Easily eight foot tall, it had once been a Foawr. Of giant stock, it stood a statuesque nine feet tall and was correspondingly broad across both chest and shoulders. Despite its sturdy build, two features caused a jarring counterpoint to the symmetry of the rest of it ... the fact that its head, with its extravagant coiffe of long, thick hair was around two sizes too large for it's frame and the gaping hole in its ribcage that announced its undeath in an undeniable way. 

Sightless eyes in a maggot ridden face swivelled to fix her with a stare that did more than suggest that the thing could tell the difference between the living and the inanimate. The latter were ignored as it moved steadily forward, while the nearest of the former ... being Jyslin's own self ... became the source it oriented itself on. Her back pressed firmly into the column behind her, the Tiefling tried to scramble out of the way but her limbs refused to obey and she stayed sitting where she was as it loomed over her. Watching the jerky, unjointed way in which it moved she could only watch in frozen horror while the mists it brought with it  reached out to cross the space between the two. Coiling and wrapping itself about her legs, it moved in a manner reminiscent of a tidal flow and stole away her will. 

*MOVE*, she screamed at herself silently while the shadows overhead shifted and sidled around the top of the column. The Foawr corpse raised one callused ham-fist noiselessly above Jyslin's head who instinctively cringed away from the expected blow. This was going to hurt, she held her breath.

A low, warning growl floated down from the ceiling ...

Oh my aching tail ...

 Bright Spark's crossing was awkward and painful, in a way it had never been before. It could no more understand why it was experiencing pain than it could comprehend the quirk of temporal mechanics that had been allowing it to cross from one realm to the other in the first place. But it did know pain and this was unlike anything it had experienced before. Not the worst pain even, that would have had to be the time its tail had been stepped on by the large, stinky, hard footed thing that pulled the wagon for the locals hereabouts. No, this was an odd kind of electrical current that wrapped itself around, over and through its own energetic signature as it made the passage from incorporeal to a very much solid bundle of toned muscles moving beneath a healthy coat and plumage. 

It landed amid the barrels in the storeroom with a heavy thud, in a tangle of arms, legs, torso and tail. It skidded across the floor, bowling over the stout oaken casks with the momentum of its arrival in its natal space and sending them spinning. Lying prone for several long minutes, Spark strove to untangle itself and shake off the lingering ache that centered on a spot far deep within its breast as it struggled to breathe. Air was proving difficult to draw for the winded creature and it spent its next several moments struggling to simply coordinate the acts of inhaling and exhaling until it stopped feeling like an imaginary wagon-beast was sitting on it's chest and the nauseating vertigo and ringing in its ears began to ease. Almost immediately as it was finding the rhythm that ought to have been natural to it, the coughing fit began. 

After several more rather unpleasant minutes spent in clearing frothy phlegm from its airway, it heaved a great sigh and took its first deep cleansing breath, followed by another and then yet another. Allowing itself to relax fully and simply lay still for a moment, it took stock of its situation before trying yet again to win free from its tangled landing to successfully sort out its own appendages. Shakily at first, with diffuse pain lingering in its bones, it gained in confidence and sureness of its footing. Staggering forward a few paces, Spark finally managed to shake off the majority of the remaining disorientation and made its way clear of the cluttered space and out into the next chamber over ... ignoring, as it did so, the pained groan that floated up behind it from where it had landed so ungracefully.

 The scent trail of the dark things was much stronger here than it had been on the other side. A composite and cloying odour, it burst upon Spark's olfactory senses unpleasantly carrying with it the unmistakable aroma of putrefying flesh and death decayed. It's growl was no longer high frequency and sparking, now it manifest as a deep rumbling and angry sound which echoed and reverberated within its ribcage with each breath drawn. Its tail lashed angrily from side to side and its wings, as tightly folded as ever to its sides, hummed ominously as minuscule muscular contractions in its still under developed flight muscles caused the large, membranous, and heavily veined wings to vibrate rapidly against its flanks. While looking fragile and delicate, strongly reminiscent of the wings of a dragonfly, these were in fact remarkably strong and sharp edged. Their purpose in the species was not simply for ritual display in breeding but would be, should Spark succeed in attaining its full adult size, an active part of the little predator's defenses.

It craned its neck and tested the air with a quickly darting tongue, investigating the currents for all the information carried by each errant breeze that gusted by. The growl got louder and more determined as it began to pick out the scent of living beings amid the corruption. Spark oriented itself upon the smell of live flesh and sets cautiously out to track its way to the source. 

~Ams protek ...

It growled angrily to itself as it loped across the room and scaled one of the roof support columns to silently avail itself of the intricate network of ceiling beams, joists, and rafters which allowed a small enough one to travel from one end of the brewery, the Inn and the Tavern portions of the high walled building. It had learned early on in its tenure within the complex structure that the resident creatures rarely looked upwards and the shadows pooled sufficiently in the open ceiling space to allow a cautious one to travel from one end to the other relatively unimpeded. A quick and easy hop was all Spark needed to cross from the brewery to the Inn's portion of the ceiling. With the practiced ease of one grown comfortable with its ability to avoid the locals, it scrabbled quietly up one beam, across a rafter and down a column in a circular spiral and onto the floor not more than a stones' throw from the large, double reinforced doors to the walled courtyard all without breaking cover. 

Flattening itself into the shadows on the floor behind the pillar it had descended, it made itself as small as it could as to avoid notice. A task made suddenly tougher by the fact that Spark was now almost double the size it had been the last time it had spent time this side. Still, it was not too difficult to go unnoticed by the residents and their paying guests considering the chaos unfolding before its eyes. 

Mine!

 Weaver wasn't at all certain what was riling up the bright energy that had become a fixture in the Guild over the last little while. But riled it definitely was … prowling the shop unhappily and shooting static sparks off anyone it bumped against as it did so. She could tell who was energetically sensitive by how they reacted when the mild electrical zap came. 

The ones with more than mundane skill sets tended to look about curiously for the source of the energy jolt, usually as a result of having had it distractedly brush up against them and inadvertently captured a stray electron or two from each. The truly clueless who navigate their lives deaf, blind and dumb to the wonders that were possible, simply startled and then settled back into their humdrum lives with barely a ripple to their days. 

Each pass around the shop, Spark grew more irritated … it’s energy signature becoming both wilder and stronger. It’s incorporeal tail lashed angrily and it’s nonexistent whiskers vibrated with the power of absolute outrage. A scent trail, very faint but distinct, was triggering a memory of fell things in the night from when it had been very small and newly fledged.  Dark and dangerous things belonged to that scent, things which rendered hunting grounds unsafe for small things … if the scent was there, then they would be near as well.

It did not like the thought of THIS hunting ground being made unsafe. 

~ Ams protek 

Never before had bright Spark felt the need to stake a territory for itself. Opportunistic hunters and scavengers, it’s kind on that side were required by the scarcity of prey to maintain a fairly nomadic lives. A new emotion to any it had experienced previously stirred in its thoughts. This was ITS hunting ground and, while the mud things that existed here could neither harm nor help it, they were a fertile source of creative energy. It had grown stronger while it had been feeding here, chasing down the echoes of imagination that lingered after groups of the slow things spent time in camaraderie.

~ Ams defen

A low, electrical buzzing filled the Guild as Spark began to growl. Starting its third circuit around the larger space of the shop proper, it kept its focus upon the doorway into the Parlour from which the scent trail emanated. Dropping into a low crouch, it began a cautious predatory approach which started as a tentative tiptoeing and shifted to a determined run towards the doorway. Having crossed the place where the scents changed and the air sparked a few times now, it knew that its best chance lay in gaining speed quickly so that it could punch cleanly through the Veil. 

It didn’t count on Weaver crossing the threshold, exiting the Parlour at the instant it crossed to enter. In that moment, for no more than the length of a very human heartbeat, their energies merged and both cried out in shock at the less than subtle connection. 

Then it was past, leaving the woman on her knees gasping and trying to understand what had just happened. Climbing unsteadily to her feet, she turned to look back into the Parlour in obvious confusion but no answers presented themselves. Shivering uncontrollably, she shook her head to acknowledge the strangeness of what had just happened and wandered off in search of a cup of tea with which to steady herself. 

When Suddenly ...

There was not a soul in residence at the Double Barrel that did not come awake abruptly and with their skin crawling as the shrill, unearthly wail ululated across the dark night sky. Falling heavily to the floor, she struggled to win free from the sheets a fitful slumber had wrapped her in. Jyslin blistered the air with a few choice curses and climbed to her hooves ... there were times when being the proud owner of a lovely set of gracefully curved horns could be a source of exasperation, such as just then when the sound of ripping stitches mingled with the preternatural howl that continued on an impossibly long time. 

"I don't have time for this," She muttered, gathering the satin sheet and tying it about herself toga style. 

Stopping only to snatch her great great grandmother's rapier from it's sheath where it hung on the post at the foot of the bed as she went by, she flung open the door and exited to the hallway a mere heartbeat or two before anyone else. Taking advantage of the momentary absence of bodies between her and the stairwell, she sprinted to the stairs and took each set in a couple of elegantly executed leaps while the doors behind her opened to allow the rest of the family access to the hall. 

Knowing that her backup was almost literally on her heels, she reached the main landing and rushed out into the yard as the scream that had roused them all finally trailed off into a silence every bit as terrible as the wail had been. In the absence of sound, the eerie stillness that followed was of the sort that, should you be a creature with hair that could stand on end, well, it would do exactly that as a natural consequence. Even the sound of the other assorted family members following her out into the large, cobbled courtyard and spreading out to look about the space enclosed by the outer wall and the structure of the Inn proper, did not sound quite right to ears so recently victim to an ear-splitting auditory barrage. 

Several of the householders stayed back closer to the entrance of the Inn, both to give their more martial peers space to fight should it be needed and to protect any patrons who may have been similarly disturbed by the unholy caterwaul. Luckily, on this day it would seem that the paying customers deemed it wiser to allow the Inn staff to handle this matter while they themselves remained as safe as they could be hiding under the bedcovers. All that were there could feel the sense of malice that permeated the air, it sat upon Jyslin's dusky purple skin in a way that generated an involuntary shudder of revulsion. Thick and cloying, not unlike that feeling before the sky erupts into thunder and lightning, it seemed to adhere to anything it touched with a persistence that suggested purpose. 

And yet, nothing ... the silence persisted. 

The nervous system of a living being can only sustain an alarm state for a specific length of time without actual threat being in evidence. Some of the younger cousins began to laugh, nervously at first but gaining in confidence as nothing continued to happen. Relief began to bubble up from deep inside at what appeared to be a failure on the danger's part to manifest. Surely, something should have happened by not and it was no time at all before a contagious case of the giggles was racing through them all.

Jyslin hissed at them to be quiet, sensitive pointed ears picking up the faintest sounds of movement from the other side of the stout, iron reinforced, wooden gate, but it was too late. 

They had been heard ... 
Something hit the gate with enough force to splinter wood

 

Meanwhile. elsewhere ...

 Though time is relative to the observer in a given dimension, between them there can be a great deal of variance in rate of speed that the passage of time flows. In Delein, months not days had passed since she’d last noticed her pest problem. To be honest the Tiefling Jyslin had all but forgotten the little intruder, assuming it had returned to its usual haunts out in the wilderness.

Life at the Double Barrel continued on largely as normal in the intervening time, the inn seeing perhaps a third fewer travellers than is customary for this time of the year. But then the winter had been harsh with bitterly cold temperatures and deep snow. As a result, spring was turning out to be soggy, muddy and just generally unpleasant for travel.

This development suited Jyslin at this point in time. She had more pressing issues to wrangle. There was a problem with the latest order of water for the wine.

Specifically, it wasn’t here yet.

And it should have been, twice over.

The four wagon train with experienced drivers and mounted escort had failed to arrive two days ago when they were expected. Jyslin was, understandably, more than a little concerned. First off, the purity and quality of the water was of prime importance in wine making and for her family’s vintage, the regular shipments from the high mountain spring they owned were crucial. To make matters worse, each person on that tardy shipment was family of some stripe.

Worry weighted her down.

“Tomorrow,” She muttered to herself grimly, “if they don’t show by morning, there’ll be nothing else for it.”

She stared out into the yard at the iron bound double gate which lead to the road. Stared with such intensity that, could sheer willpower cause the gate to open and the wayward wagons to roll in with a simple excuse for their tardiness.

She ground her teeth in frustration, hating the sinking sense of certainty in the pit of her stomach that gave the lie to her hopes.

“I’ll have to go get them …”

Posted on Guild Fb site May 22, 2023 -

The shop witch had left early this day, heading home to tend to Nana duties for her trio of grand-younglings. Confident of her family’s abilities and knowledge of Magic the Gathering, she left her helpers in charge of the evening’s Commander event. The place ticked along merrily without her.

Not at all comfortable with this change in the shop routine, Bright Spark watched cautiously from inside the Parlour doorway as the players began to arrive and the shop filled up. Being a holiday long weekend, Weaver had not been certain of the turnout but before long laughter and the varied sounds of patrons enjoying themselves could be heard spilling out the front door and into Vedder Pointe shopping mall’s parking lot.

The enticing gleeful sounds even drew a few passers by to risk the odd entranceway to find out where the merriment was coming from. Truly it was becoming one of the favourite parts of working the shop … the look of wonder that crossed the faces of children and adults alike as they rounded the wall that separated the entry way from the store proper. It was almost always the same: big eyes and gaping mouth, normally accompanied by exclamation of childlike wonder. They had worked hard to try to give the Bazaar that feel - certain necessities for surviving life were currently in short supply and those who manage the day to day of Guild operations were doing their best to bring some back to Chilliwack: magic, whimsy and a place to belong for the geeky folk of the community.

Observing the goings on out in the main shop, Spark scented the air cautiously. The tantalizing aromas that drifted through the place caused its whiskers to twitch excitedly. There was much creative energy being summoned and tossed about as things got underway. Being that an occasional patron wandered in to investigate the almost put together Parlour, it chose a spot on the empty shelf that faced the door. This allowed it to stay safely out of the way while still being able to observe the odd creatures that resided here.

While useless to it themselves, being slow, thick and heavy things, they were proving to be a remarkable source of sustenance. Able to interact with this place only partially, it was not bright enough to understand concepts such as quantum mechanics, disparate dimensions, multiverse theory, or vibrational energy signatures. It could not understand why itself was different this side than when it was on the other but it knew that this was a hunting ground that behaved far differently from the ruins or storehouses it had prowled before. Rather than becoming depleted of quarry as a result of feeding here, this hunting ground grew richer the longer it tarried here.

Spark curled up on its shelf, wrapping its tail around itself before laying its head gently down atop it. With its chin propped up, it settled in to wait until the shop was again empty. It observed the tournament goings on dreamily and purred quietly to itself. Being patient came easily to the little predator, and there was no uncertainty here … good eating was coming, it just needed to wait. What was different here than back the other side, was that Spark was beginning to feel territorial about this place and possessive of the mud creatures that fed it so well. Burying its muzzle into its tail, it set to studying them as it waited for the place to empty.

Heat wave

 "Oof", Weaver sits down heavily on the chair after closing the shop early. The central air conditioning for the building her shop is in has not been behaving itself and the weather has chosen an unfortunate time to reveal this situational weakness. Unseasonably high temperatures all week resulted in every merchant in the building experiencing unpleasantly warm temperatures as the majority of its windows face the sun close to from dawn to dusk. 

On this particular day, hot and muggy enough to suggest the possibility of a thunderstorm, it just became too unpleasant in the shop to allow customers in. Conversation between merchants in the morning had revealed that the landlord was aware of the problem and was sourcing a solution. This combined with the weather report for the upcoming long weekend which promised a cooling to more reasonable springtime temperatures, boded well for when the summer actually started. Buying the building owners some time before the truly hot season started. 

For this day, however, there was to be no respite until well after sunset and each extra body in the building added degrees to the overall radiant heat. It is unpleasant enough out there to discourage most locals, accustomed to a normally cooler Temperate Rainforest clime, to avoid going outside. The town that the shop was in had qualified for small city status not too many years back and it boasted two unique features. The first was the highest number of inhabitants with some form of breathing troubles in the whole Province and, for second, was the cause of said unusually common respiratory issues. 

The mountains that surround the city have trace quantities of platinum in their makeup ... not enough to make trying to retrieve it a worthwhile venture but definitely more than enough to enter into a chemical reaction with the UV radiation of a cloudless day and the pollution that the prevailing winds gathered from all around and dropped atop the place where the mountains bottleneck the air currents. The end result of the mixing of all these elements was a phenomenon known as white haze. Essentially a form of acidic air that attacked the lungs of those who breathed it regularly on those hot, sunny days without a cloud in the sky. 

Locals who know better tend to take refuge indoors to escape the unpleasant sensation that gradually builds in the ribcage and chest when the sky goes hazy and the mountain it originates from are obscured. Therefore, there were not a lot of people to be found in the whole mall.

"It's better that folk aren't here today anyhow, " She inclines her head in the direction of the bright spark of energy that has been hiding sullenly under the big table all day. "Between the fellows coming to install the shelves this morning and the high temperatures the rest of the day, it would have been unwise to allow others in for long." She brightened at the mention of the shelving.

Weaver has been waiting for nearly a month to finally get these shelves hung so that she could properly display more stock than the current floorspace allowed. Three burly men were finally secured to come and get it all hung in the one go and she could not be more pleased ... especially in the Parlour which has rapidly gone from a cold, sterile space to something far calmer. A beanbag chair and muted lighting rounded out the room so far, but its development had stalled as the lack of space meant that boxes began to accumulate and they were temporarily put in there to keep them from becoming an eyesore to the customers. 

Now that the shelving was hung, she would be able to get everything out of the boxes and up on display. The Parlour could finish being built. This thought put Weaver into a good mood and she couldn't help singing along with the music in her headset as she bumbled her way through the shop cleaning and getting everything ready for the morrow.

For its part, Spark did its best to ignore the disruptions unless one of the workers came to close to its hunting spot of the day ... the big game table had been the source of much merriment just the night before as five brave souls had gathered to partake of dice rolling adventure. A session zero that set the stage for an ongoing, weekly game that had the group rolling with laughter and glee from the get go.
Incorporeal tail lashing eagerly from side to side, it prowled through the energetic imprints that had not yet faded. 

The flashing flit of fairy wings, the cold iron of restraining chains, the lingering call of an elk, terrified screams mingled with the angry roar of a yak ... all the slowly fading etheric imprints were fair game in its mind except one. The dark shade that moved in flashes of colourful silks and luxurious furs. A single dark gloved hand and an emanation of evil that the creature did its best to avoid. There was something in the nature of this echo of an NPC that suggested that it would not simply play nice and allow itself to be eaten. 

Spark snorted in that one's direction - yesss, much better to leave that shade be. 

At least, for now ...

Meanwhile this side ...

 It has been an unremarkable couple of days. The Parlour had remained dark and quiet while the shop had continued with business as usual through the weekend.

Weaver had noticed the drop in energy levels within the quiet room but had not had the time nor spoons to properly investigate what exactly had changed. Still recovering from a lengthy battle with a chronic illness, she yet tired fairly easily and running the shop was strenuous. She felt extremely fortunate that, almost without exception, the folk who have found her little store have been amazing.

The intervening days passed quickly without much change so that, when the energy did return, it was noticeable by even some of the less sensitive patrons present. Manifesting more strongly than it had previously, the bright spark that coursed through the Parlour threshold was experienced by those present as a faint static discharge that sparked harmlessly as it passed them.

Easily dismissed by those without the senses to pick up on the otherness of the momentary chill it left upon the skin, it dove for the very table that had been used for an RPG game by some local youths. The fresh imprint their adventures and youthful imagination still hung in the air above and cavorted in the shadows beneath it.

With a soundless sense of triumph, it licked its nonexistent lips at what promises to be a very fruitful hunt indeed.

The Town of Delein

The town of Delein, itself, is at once wearily ancient and shining new. 

Having been, in previous ages, hotly contested by countless armies and empires until their incessant warlike ways resulted in a complete collapse of their civilization. Its unfortunate historical popularity no doubt being due to the place's fortuitous location next to the White Bone River. With impressive regularity, the river flooded yearly in such a manner that the area is possessed of the most fertile farming land for leagues around. By itself, the land's ability to produce healthy crops even in the leanest of years, would have been sufficient temptation for any number of conqueror, petty or otherwise. 

The town is well placed to be able to make best use of a natural rock shelf that extended from the shore into the waterway in such a manner as to create a sheltered marina. This feature being perfect for the storage and maintenance of the shallow bottomed curraghs and dugout long boats that are employed by the locals for travel, trade and fishing. Just off from the stone shelf however, the swift running current has carved a nice deep drop away of the shoreline to allow for the moorage of the larger trade vessels that made regular trips from one end of the river to the other. 

The folk of Delein pride themselves on their ability to survive and even thrive in a fairly hostile land. The current iteration of the town would be celebrating the 99th year of incorporation in the fall, combined into the harvest festival as was their custom. It was shaping up to be quite the party, with three confirmed weddings set for the celebration and whispers of a possible new betrothal. Old farmer Angus was fattening up six of the best shaggy, black cattle he had for the feast. 

It would fall to Jyslin's family to provide the alcohol. It was no accident that her kin owned the largest and best tracts of land in the area, including the ancient vineyard and brewery. The family had lived here for as far back as any could track and they had always made the alcohol according to their own recipes. The wine was their specialty and was sought from coast to coast for its particular uplifting qualities but the hard liquor always did well in sales.

IF she could focus on her work that is ... 

Originally posted May 12th on the Dragon Guild's Facebook Site

 Watching from a safe spot in the rafters, the pest in question kept a careful eye on the Tiefling while she searched the ale kegs and brewing supplies. Unwilling to draw attention to the rich, new hunting ground behind the shelving, it settled itself comfortably in a pool of shadow and began to groom and preen contentedly.

Occasionally pausing to check on the fruitless search taking place below, it trusted to the innate camouflage that its coat offered in the dim light of the ceiling. It ignored, for the most part, all the cajoling calls as well as the profane threats. Only becoming concerned if it appeared that the building’s owner might look upward.

It took a lot longer, this time, for the Tiefling to give up and admit that she’ll not be catching her quarry this day. With a final expression of frustration, she stormed back into the main building … her hooves striking a sharp staccato on the cobble stones.

Waiting until it is certain that she is not returning right away, the creature slowly and carefully makes its way down from the ceiling. Licking its lips in anticipation, it wends its way between a given pair of barrels and then up and over the stacked burlap sacs of hops and other grains to find the place where the scents changed and the air buzzed and crackled with static.

Originally posted May 10th on the Dragon Guild's Facebook Site

 *There are places in this mundane realm where power yet hides. Where the veil between worlds are thinner and, occasionally, something or someone is either lucky or unfortunate enough to find the rift that allows some communication between the twain. Which it might be is entirely dependent upon the nature of the communication and the perspective of the individual involved.

In the case of the Parlour room, it just happened that the aethers aligned in such a way that in all the multiverse two disparate dimensions happened to rest atop each other. Sharing the same multiversal geographic location yet separated only by a matter of a few degrees of reality.

On the one side, the Dragon Guild’s Parlour and on the other, the back office of the Double Barrel Inn and Tavern. A recreational establishment of the finest order in the age encrusted, multi-storied town of Delein’s merchant district.

Jyslin grumbled unhappily under her breath as she tried to catch the stray that had snuck in through the open storeroom door. Dratted thing was sleek and quick and kept darting between and behind the assorted kegs of ale and the bags of fresh hops for the next batch. It has been successfully evading her eviction efforts for days now.

About the size of a large cat, this pest sported tiny, interlinked iridescent scales and a set of diaphanous blue and violet wings that were tucked tightly to the creature’s back.

Normally content to hunt small rodents among the rubble in the ancient ruins that dot the landscape for leagues around, this one was demonstrating an uncharacteristic interest in her back room. *

Where have you got to now?

*The Tiefling muttered to herself as she privately swore that the dratted thing was disappearing from the room entirely … somehow…

Originally posted May 9th on the Dragon Guild's Facebook Site

 *Day’s end and Weaver is going through the shut down procedures when she pauses to check her phone. The insistent buzzing in her pocket, signaling that someone was attempting to reach her.

Reading the brief message that has landed in her text inbox, the colour drains from her face and tears spring unbidden to her eyes. One trembling hands goes to her mouth to stifle an exclamation of dismay, the other hand reaches out to grasp the back of one of the chairs next to the game table.

Moving deliberately, eyes glued to the words on the screen … *

“She is gone”

*Weaver sinks wearily into the seat as the tears begin to flow despite her best efforts to maintain her calm and composure. *

Oh, Turtle …

I’m so sorry.

May wings of dragons fly you to your rest.

You will be missed.

*Whispering the words to herself, she allows herself a private moment to grieve the passing of one of the last original Guildies. A friend to those who needed one and a lover of good tales and the occasional triple entendre.

The energy in the Parlour kept a discrete distance. Prowling around the doorway but not venturing out, whether out of respect for the expressed sorrow or some reason of its own, is not immediately apparent.*

Always such a shame when the light goes out too soon. Now we’ve lost her stories …

Originally posted May 8th on the Dragon Guild Facebook site

Originally posted May 7th on the Dragon Guild's Facebook Site

 *The energy in the Parlour becomes more noticeable as the days pass and more folk on the Sardis side of Chilliwack succeed in finding the shop despite the continued lack of signage. Weaver has been noticing it exploring the shop proper in the quiet times between customer rushes. No doubt getting acclimatized,or perhaps attuned would be a more appropriate choice of word, to the place.

The strength of flow through the threshold of the doorway gains a little with each new face that wanders in to investigate this strange new place.

Strengthened and emboldened to prowl atop the shelves and under the tables, exploring any nook or crevice where an errant thought or daydream could be hiding before circling back to rest a while within its refuge.

With a distracted nod of her greying head, the Weaver walked over to shut the door until morning … feeling oddly like she was going through a tuck-in routine like was her custom with her grandkids.*

All right you,

I’m off for the night.

I’ll see you in the morning …

Originally posted May 6th on the Dragon Guild's Facebook Site

 *after a whirlwind of a sales day …*

What an amazing day we’ve had, * says Weaver to no one in particular as she pushed the vacuum about the now empty shop.*

Easily our best so far.

*She allows herself a pleased smile followed by a quick glance at the open Parlour door.*

Yes, yes.

I suppose I have you to thank for the jumping day?

Well, thank you then …

I’m mighty grateful that we’re doing so well just a month and a bit into being open.

*The fleeting sense of feline-like pressure made itself felt at the back of her knees before the energy bounds through the shop happily like a bright little spark.*

Yes, I’m gathering what you requested. You need to remember that time is an actual thing in my frame.

Patience, my friend. Patience.

*Another quick smile and a conspiratorial wink in the Parlour’s direction*

Won’t be long now …

Originally posted May 5th, 2023 on the Dragon Guild's Facebook page - Building a Sandbox the only way I know how ... Storytime!

 *Looks up, her gaze scanning the shop as an odd expression crosses her face*

Hmm …

The energy is shifting again …

*Settling her gaze upon the Parlour door, which currently stands open although the space inside is not yet ready to serve, she contemplates the doorway absently*

What ARE you up to now?

*Weaver sets her stylus down upon the game table, careful not to damage its walnut finish. Rising to her feet, she approaches the door slowly. Looking into the partially apportioned quiet room wistfully, she could almost see the coiled energy pulse and flow outward through the threshold into the shop proper.*

Well, if you’re sure this is how we need to do this.

*Feeling the energy push against the backs of her knees like a hungry feline demanding their dinner *

As you wish, *drops a curt bow*

This should be interesting, then …

*Squaring her shoulders, she takes a long, slow, deep breath in. Drawing herself up to her full height, she allows her hands to begin the intricate dance of somatic gestures.*

By the pricking of my thumbs

Something RP this way comes.