View source for Zen and the Art of Laundry

<div style="padding:5px; background-color:#e7eaea;">
== Log Info ==
*Title: Zen and the Art of Laundry
*Characters: Preston, Desdemona, Ga'Elian, Shara, Vomitdreg
*Place: Alexandria - The Ox
*Time: May 23, 2018
*Summary: Preston and Desdemona lament the state of her laundry when Shara arrives and asks for a seat, admitting someone at the bar was taking liberties most inappropriate. Preston rolls another Ox Tavern epic fail, because young, overdressed wizards are not at all intimidating, and gets his nose broken for his attempts to defend her honor. Ga'Elian's wardrobe choices are frightening, and Vomitdreg has the business plan of a lifetime.
</div> 


Sure, the Ox isn't the most luxurious place they could settle, but when they arrived, Desdemona brought up the very good point that they're going to need to make their money stretch. She's been picking up odd jobs here and there, but a lot of her money is being saved for her future ship. (Which honestly is not a lot at the moment.) Desdemona has been out most of the day, and when she arrives back into the Tavern she settles into a table that she's claimed as her own. Her shirt looks a little worse for wear. It's fraying at the cuff, and there are several tears that have been dyed with blood from the few battles she's gotten herself into. She looks as presentable as she can be after a long day and has a mug of ale in front of her.

Normally she'd be in higher spirits, even after a rough day, but everything might finally be catching up with her. She misses the constant influx of money from being on the ship, but working on land is proving harder than she expected.

--

Preston Bayweather has been doing a lot of geography research.

Specifically, he's been trying to pull up anything anyone might know about the Underdark and its tunnels nearby, because he thinks the meeting at the Ox was mostly correct. It made sense to him that the Master of Helsteeds may be moving his strange cavalry underground. Much of the operation may be underground too. Going after it there is suicide, and yet it may need to be done.

Soon he has a meeting with Lorik. He's going to have to come armed with useful suggestions.

He makes his way to their table and sets down some books and maps that don't look terribly reliable. He frowns at the state of her clothes. "Desi," he says. "I must say. You are looking less Legitimate Airship Merchant by the day and more Professional Ruffian. If you don't soak blood stains in cold water right away you do know they are prone to staying forever and ever, right?"

--

Desi was a little distracted through out that whole meeting, as someone had decided to dangle a carrot in front of her. Sadly, the carrot wasn't something she was interested in eating and it meant she missed out on the breif of a possible paying job. When Preston brings the books and drops them on the table she narrows her brows just a bit. "These maps look terrible." She sits up and pokes at one of them with her finger. "Did a child draw this?" 

When he mentions her clothing she looks down on it and frowns. "My father would be beside himself if he saw me like this." She says, flicking away at her cuff and nodding her head. "Yeah I suppose I'm not going to impress anyone with this. I planned on soaking it, but I figured it would be frowned up on to come to dinner with out my shirt. The other two are in better shape. I think."

--

Preston reaches into his belt pouch and brings out some of Preston Bayweather's Perfect Laundry Solution. "Soak them all in these tonight," he says wisely. "And then scrub them well in the morning. It should get the stains out at least. Bring me whatever you're not wearing and we'll see about getting them mended. And yes, the maps ''are'' terrible."

He frowns down at them unhappily. "They're also the best I could locate. I wish I could come up with a better next step on this Master of Helsteeds matter. Every time I feel like the words, 'we're going to have to follow that cave into the tunnels beyond and locate that operation below the earth' form on my lips, I feel as though what I am really saying is: 'Let's all dig early graves for ourselves! It shall be capital good fun!'"

--
 
Desdemona and Preston are sitting at a table in the tavern. On the table is a pile of books, several crude maps and at least one mug of ale. The Elf looks like a proper ruffian next to Preston and his pristine clothing, but she seems to fit in well with everyone else in the immedate area. 

Desdemona takes the laundry powder from Preston and raises a brow. "Sure, hopefully you co do something with them as I really don't want to have to buy new ones. I had a fair amount of shirts in my chest on the ship but I hear that things are not going well after the mutiny, so it was good that I jumped overboard." She shrugs into her cup before she turns back to the maps.

"Just you saying those words make me want to run in the other direction. Do you know what happens in caves? Cave-ins, and there is no sky down there. I really hope it's anything but, hey lets run through the Underdark like a bunch of people with a deathwish."

--

	Despite the locals being normal drunks, some of them actually raise a tankard when a red haired elf appears through the doorway. She gives a wave to those that have raise their mugs, but she does head for the bar. "Bit of wine please."

--

Bayweather looks at the newcomer who comes in. He is indeed brilliantly dressed, all in shades of rich blue, immaculate in the extreme. He pokes one of his books disconsolately. "Indeed, on every count," he says. "It is a terrible plan. Maybe Lorik will have better ideas. I mean they're coming up above ground eventually. Maybe finding those points is all we truly have to do. But I think it's dangerous to just ignore this. Not unless we want to risk some sort of vile invasion."

He pushes over another little alchemical bottle though, hearing about Desi's laundry-based plights.

--

The redheaded elf catches her attention and Desi raises her glass because she figures that's what you do when red-heads walk into the bar. She's still learning the ins and outs of this place. "It is a terrible plan, but I've learned that you have to make a lot of terrible plans before the least terrible one is thrown together. Than of course as soon as you get into the cave the plan is going to change because your magic doesn't work inside for reasons and you're going to have to throw another one together on the fly." She says before she sips from her ale. "Than again that's probably just how we did it on the ship." She taps her lips thoughtfully. "But yeah, we can't ignore this or we'll all likely die, or become some sort of giant fiery crab."

--

	As soon as the red haired elf gets her wine, she makes her way over towards Desi's and Preston's table. "room for one more? they're friendly, but one keep trying to grab my leg up there."

--

"Certainly, Madame," Preston says. "I am Preston Bayweather, and this is my friend Desdemona. And if you'll excuse me..."

He stands up and goes to the bar with a smile on his face. He apparently takes exception to the idea that anyone might just paw up some woman's leg. His blue eyes are flashing above that perfectly amiable grin.

It seems the young man thinks he's going to try to do something about it. Granted, he didn't even stop to figure out which one, but he's sure he'll get to the bottom of it in a second. Process of elimination says it has to be one of two right?

--

"Feel free, I'm sure we can pick up some of this insanity and clear you off a spot." She moves some of the books and nods her head at the woman. When Preston gets up she looks at him with some confusion on her face. "Wait are you?" Then she laughs, leaning back in her chair as she watches him get up to defend this strangers honor. "Wow he must like you, he doesn't do this for me." Than again, most people don't tend to touch Desdemona with out her invitation, the sword on her hip usually keeps their hands away.

--

Shara says, "That's not...." But Preston is already walking his way over there. "....a good idea." She then chuckles. "Sorry. But I tend to play here a lot. I should know better than just to walk up to the bar when there are drunks here." she then shrugs. "Just hope he doesn't get hurt. I use my voice for a lot of things....pain is one of them.""

--

GAME: Preston rolls intimidate: (1)+2: 3 (EPIC FAIL)

--

And here's how it goes down.

Preston Bayweather does his dead level best to give the wizard's glare and a dark speech about using dire magic on men who can't keep their hands to themselves.

Seconds later, he's spun around by the fist that connects with his nose. Either they already know wizards his age aren't exactly the pinnacle of danger, or he just looks too civilized, too comical, in a place like this, with his poncy clothes and perfectly coiffed hair.

Either way, he's staggering back with a broken nose, hitting a table hard. Someone's beer upends right atop his head, someone's dinner is now stuck to his back, and the owner of said dinner and beer hauls him up and /flings/ him back towards the ladies. He lands on the books and the table suddenly collapses under him with a crash.

Wizard: 0.

Rowdies who seem gearing for a bigger bar fight? 1.

--

This goes about as well as Desdemona thought it was going to go. She can't help but laugh, and it's the point that her sides start to hurt and she doubles over. She has just enough time when Preston come flailing back to step away from the table before it breaks underneath him. Thankfully she still has her ale in her hand, but she squats down and tilts her head. "I needed that, I was feeling a little blue today." She does at least offer a hand to help him get up on his face. "In the future, Your Grace, leave the bar fights to me. We can't have you marring that pretty little nose of yours."

--

	That's when the red head takes a deep breath and looks like she's screaming at the top of her lungs. The strange part of it is...the only one that even seems to react is the one that hit Preston. He suddenly covers his ears and falls over. The redhead lets out an audible sigh at the rest of the ruffians as well. "he's going to be dazed for a little while......." She says to Desi.

--

Indeed, Preston is dazed, but the redhead's display at least settles the bar crowd down. Everyone takes a supreme interest in their drinks. Nobody wants to fall over because some lady screamed at them.

Preston comes to sort of on the tail end of Desi's speech.

"Wasn't out for a fight," he mumbles. "People simply should not treat other people that way. Most uncouth. I say. I've never noticed the swirling stars on the ceiling of this place before. Most beautiful. I also have to admit I do not have good experiences here. Always end up dodging tomatoes or flying through the air under someone else's power. I give it one out of five crescent moons."

--

Desdemona stares at the other woman as she screams and watches as the other man gets dazed. "Well, that's handy. I could think of a million uses for that." Sadly she doesn't have those sort of powers, but she is happy with what she does have. When Petson is dazed she looks up at the ceiling and smirks. "Yeah, we should probably get you into bed before you start naming those stars. Maybe we should find some where else for you to stay? You do have terrible luck here." Again she offers her hand should he feel up to standing.

--

Oh. There's a hand before him.

Preston Bayweather lies flat out on a collapsed table, covered in booze, his nose bleeding. He slowly reaches up to take Desdemona's hand. "I wonder if I can afford one where nobody feels up anyone else's legs or serves paint stripper as the daily drink special," he says, clearly dazed. He lets her pull him up, sighing as he looks at the ruin of his clothes. "Good thing I have one more bottle of my laundry solution," he says, with stiff-upper lip resignation. No matter how many times his brand new life knocks him down, the young man is pretty well determined to simply get back up again, it seems.

If a little less handsome and fashionable for the trouble.

--

Ga'Elian walks into the putrid tavern and pauses at the threshhold giving the sudden stench of the place a moment to wash over him before proceeding inside. At once, he sees the human lying on the collapsed table, and walks over, heedless of the scene he may be causing, looking feral as he does in his bone helm, teeth necklace, bare chest, leather, and bullwhip coiled at his hip. He strides up and asks, "Do you require assistance?"

--

Desdemona helps the man to his feet, putting both of her hands on his shoulders to make sure they stay on the ground this time. "I'm sure you could, for a night or two. Maybe we just need to find a place that is some where in between. Not emptying your pockets, but also not this." She takes a second to pass her finger in front of his eyes to see if he can follow it, or if he's still seeing stars before she pats him on the shoulder and reaches into her pocket for a clean handkerchief. "Oh your outfit isn't that bad, just a few little blood stains, I'm sure it'll get lost in the pattern."

As Ga'Elian walks up looking rougher than Desdemona does she quirks her brow. "No, I think we're perfectly fine. Just your everyday defending of someone's honor, as well as redecorating. This table is extremely wobbly and we're doing it a favor by turning it in to firewood." She says brightly, still keeping one hand on Preston's arm, so he doesn't fall over.

--

	Shara quietly walks over to Preston and helps him to his feet, or tries....and places a hand on his shoulder. "When you spend much of your time singing, the voice can have a powerful effect on people." She says to Desi. "Can save them, can encourage them to do better....and even more." She then looks over towards the 'drunk'....who is now getting up. And the redhead actually help him up too. "Now....you know not to do it again." She then smiles to him. "I'm Shara, by the way...."

--

Preston stares at the feral looking shirtless elf with his bullwhip.

"I say," he says nervously. "No. No, I certainly do not."

He swallows and looks to Des. "Most certainly not somewhere in the...the...the red candle district. I say!"

Now he's half leaning into Desdemona for support, and half just trying to hide behind the more worldly pirate. She has got this interaction under control, but he feels the need to add, "Yes, firewood, most assuredly, and I assure you I'm not the sort-- I mean I don't do that sort of thing, sir. I mean. Not sir! Uh. Yon. Good Samaritan."

Shara's introduction distracts him from his fumbling. "A pleasure to meet you, Shara. I don't suppose ''you'' can recommend a good, affordable inn..."

A wide-eyed glance at Ga'Elian.

"Outside the red candle district?"

--

Ga'Elian smiles, quite pleasantly in fact, and asks, "You were so treated for singing?" He looks around the room then asks, "What is this red candle thing you speak of?"

--

"Nice to meet you." Desdemona says to Shara as she props up Preston, but extends her free hand for shaking. When he starts going off on the candle district she laughs and reaches over to pat his arm. "Don't worry, I wouldn't dare take you anywhere so untoward." She says in a snobbish tone. "Look, I'll ask around tomorrow while I am out and we'll get you settled. You're just going to have to be careful about your spending, and hopefully find some gainful employment." 

Looking back to the new comer she nods her head. "Your offer is generous, but I think we've got it all sorted. After all, no one really wants to get into a barfight right? I mean they're good fun once in a while but it really puts a damper on dinner and drinking."

--

Shara says, "Plus it hurts like hell." She then chuckles. "Also, if you're looking for work, just join the adventurer's guild. If you're any good with that sword you have there, then you'll do fine." She then looks to Preston. "And you're not exactly the physical sort, I don't think.....""

--

Preston Bayweather opens his mouth, then snaps it shut. Nope. Not explaining red candle districts today. That is not on the menu. Instead he focuses on Shara.

"Oh, I rather have, and have even had some work. You are right, I am not at all the physical sort. I am quite useful for figuring out what has happened though, and general research, a touch of magic...really the warriors just send all the blood and guts everywhere before I need to intervene, leaving me free for more cerebral pursuits. Quite fine by me. I have also joined the local mage's guild, and I've had a lovely invitation to take a look at some manner of historical society."

Babbling, definitely babbling, because he's now a bit red-faced, and steadfastly looking up at the ceiling. "So many lovely guilds. Plenty of work. I also do a touch of alchemy for side cash, very helpful, that. My laundry solution is second to none. I don't think it would be useful on...on leather...but it really does get the bloodstains out nicely when various things try to eat you. Pesky things, always with the eating."

--

Ga'Elian nods, "Oh yes. The Adventurers Guild does pay quite well, but is not for the faint of heart. Besides, often I have seen a minstrel turn the tide of battle more deftly than a warrior."

--

"I've been weary about signing any contracts with anyone just yet. I don't know if I want to get tied down to the ground for too long. However, when the purse starts getting light I will likely change my mind." Desdemona says to Shara, before she nods her head. "Quite good with the sword actually, don't let all of the tears in my shirt deceive you. I occasionally let other people get the first strike." She winks as she shifts her weight onto her other foot before nodding at the others. "See, look at you settling in and making friends. It's enough to make a merchant such as myself proud."

--

Shara says, "There is no contract. Just show when something calls for warriors, and you'll get paid when you finish the job. that's the way it works. I just play around taverns for fun, and people seem to like my music and singing." She then smirks at Preston. "Cantrip. Useful for many things."

--

*FWOOOOSH*

The door to the mana-toilet swings open permitting Vomitdreg into the establishment. The murderous little gobber waddles outward jamming a finger into his left ear-hold and twisting his digit around inside his head for a moment, "I recommend the Guzzlegizz's.." he calls out in his shrill nasally voice at the mention of the 'Red Candle District', "they've re-opened and their priest has finally figured out how to cure disease!"

Pulling his finger from his skull he performs a sort-of pat down of his form as if exploring for something but gives up without seemingly to find what he's looking for.

Making his way to a table he climbs into a high-chair, for small races not for babies, utilizing its rungs as ladder. It's then he realizes someone cleared his tankard while he was in the bathroom and says something cruel to the gnome who is at the table with him, and who was charged with watching the tankard, but who also passed out a bit ago.

--

The appearance of Vomitdreg, with his absolutely amazing announcement, causes Preston's eye to twitch just a little bit. "I need a brain bleach cantrip," he declares. "Or perhaps a bit of a potion. I could just pour it in one ear, it would dribble right out of the other, and then I would not have to re-live certain moments, or entertain certain thoughts. In certain parts of the city, I-can't-imagine-which, I am sure it would sell like hotcakes."

He finally straightens from Des, deciding he'll make it, pulling out a hanky to dab at the blood running from his nose.

--

Ga'Elian follows Preston's look, then says, "I wish you'd let me help. Eluna could heal your minor wounds."

--

The fact that Vomit heard all of that from inside of the mana-toliet is pretty impressive, also his suggestion does not fall on deaf ears. She's about to respond verbally, when Preston goes on his brain bleach speech, and she decides to bite her lip. However the nod she gives Vomit suggests that she is commiting that information to memory. Once Preston doesn't need her as a crutch, she kneels down and starts to gather the maps and the books. They're going to have to go over all of this later. Perhaps in the nicer in where less fights happen.

"Ah, that I could get behind. I'm sure I'll find my way over there soon enough. I have heard of a few other Airships passing through that I might try and court first, but so far, they've all been lackluster." 

When Ga'Elian makes his offer she smirks. "Nah, it's such a minor injury that I'm sure it'll be fixed by morning. Besides, the pain will remind him look at his foe before he attempts to scold them." Her teasing is light at least, not wanting to hurt Preston's ego ontop of his already sore nose.

--

Vomitdreg watches the gnome for a moment and then whispers, "What if your drink was actually mine?" The half-empty mug scooches across the table as if possessed -- one moment at the Gnome's left elbow and then firmly before Vomitdreg whom greedily accepts the container and takes a great swig.

"See," the Gobber says to Preston and company, "I'm tellin' ya. Brain slugs. We just need to round up the brain slugs. We could make a /fortune/ harvesting their slime for your memory potions! Clear the sinuses and the brain. We can even offer to apply them onsite and when they've forgotten they already purchased the potion we'll dose them again /and again/ until their pockets are empty. It'll be self-perpetuating!"

Blinking hard he says, to the rest of the crowd, "Trademark. Verbal trademark. The slug potion business is ours!"

"Ga'Elian. You seem like a worldly...man. What should we call our memory-potion business?!"

--

Shara chuckles a bit and shakes her head. "Well...I'm going to head out then. I got my drink, and someone was taught a lesson. I'm good for the night." She says as she starts her way out the door. "I shall see you all soon...."

--

Preston stares at Vomitdreg. His plan is both amazing and horrifying, and he finds himself unable to look away. As he turns to the shirtless elf to solicit name suggestions he slow pans back to Desi, as if to ask whether she is in fact seeing any of this. He must needs make certain he is not hallucinating any of it.

"Welp," he says at last, after he finds he ''can't decide.''

"I think our cue to depart must have rather arrived as well, don't you, Desdemona?"

More than ready to beat a hasty retreat.

--

"You know what, never mind," Vomitdreg finishes the tankard and then climbs/falls from his seat to the floor looking to the group, "I've got a business plan to create. We can name this baby after it's been birthed."

Shaking his head rapidly in an effort to clear his impending drunkenness he starts for the door and then exits into the night.

[[Category: Logs]]

[[Category:Logs|Zen and the Art of Laundry]]