LibriumArcana.Games

Chicago. America's Second City. The Crossroads of the Nation, the Birthplace of the Skyscraper. The Windy City. It is an old place, by the standards of a young country, and not without power. It is a place of connections. Things linger.

Summer dies and day slides towards evening. A cool wind blows. Men and women head home as leaves drift down streets and across parks. The sun sinks.

Something is happening, but most of the residenents of the city don't know it. Only a few recognize it and those that do are extraordinary.

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A man with powerful arms wipes down the bar. His has born many names, none of them truly his. He goes by Weyland, one of his oldest names. Behind him a great sword rests above the shelves of bottles, a reminder that he is lord of this tiny place and he once produced miracles.

He stiffens suddenly. He can feel it, although he doesn't know what it is. Most of his customers, many of whom are not human, are oblivious to it.

A hand hesitates in a shadowed corner. The nimble fingers grip a gold coin. His nails shine the same colour as the metal. He too feels . . . . something.

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Beneath the streets a pale woman rests in her lair. Her magic hides it from the minds of mortals and bartering with goblins has allowed her to fill it with battered, although servicable, furnishings. Her head peaks out from beneath an old quilt. Her nose twitches.

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She will not be diminished, even in exile. Her court is empty, her visitors few, but she will not claw and scratch among mortals. She will not. She has made a home that will serve her, even if it lacks the proper elegance and grandeur. She sits on her throne in darkness, alone save a for a few lamps that shine like distant stars.

Something touches her. She stirs. Above her, the wind shifts suddenly and rattles the branches of an ancient tree.

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The old woman pauses and puts down her knitting. Alone of all those who can feel it, she has some idea of what it portends. She thinks for a moment and then goes back to her knitting. It would be premature to act now. Best leave that to others who are younger and more foolish. She will conserve her resources until the price for her aid rises

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An old man shuffles along, pushing his cart full of empty bottles and semi-valuable junk. By bum standards he and his clothes are fairly clean. He has a few more stops to make. He can trade in the empties for a bottle of beer and a nice ham sandwich. He stops for a moment and cocks his head. It feels like their is something else he aught to be doing.

In a neighborhood that has seen better days, inside a house built before The Fire, now split into apartments, a red-furred dog drops the rawhide bone she'd been worrying, the fur on her neck rising. Ears prick up, straining to hear something beyond hearing. Her nose works, attempting to scent whatever had gone by.

"whinewhinewhine....."

"I know, Fluffy." The man replied. As he walks around the apartment, his fingers brush against various weaponry he has stashed there, quietly thinking on what can be felt. "Tell you what. If it's something big, we'll shoot it and bite it a bit." Diamonds flash in the smile given to the wolf, whose tail started wagging enough to beat out a 'taptaptaptap' on the floor.

Mace waited patiently as the elevator, or more appropriatly the motorized dumb-waiter creaked up the the sixth floor of the run-down tenement he called "Home"

It finally stopped and he picked up his backpack from the floor and stepped out. Walking down the hall, the wizard stopped at the last door on the left and turned. He twisted the key in the lock, and the door opened. When he got inside, he spoke several words which disarmed the other defenses.

The studio, if one could call it that, was really just a hole in the wall with a privy and curtained off area that served as a bed-chamber. There was also a small kitchen, which included several devices that only existed in his dreams. A cold box, which stored food and more importantly beer, a fireless cooking fire, and some sort of spiget from which he could summon hot and cold water at will.

Every wall was covered in books. When there were no more shelves, they were stacked. He had textbooks, classics, religious texts and in a strongbox, his collection of books on magical lore. He was trying to learn as much about this world as possible, because it seemed he could be here for a long, long time. Still, the books were not his concern right now. He went iover to the cold box, grabbed a dark bottle of an Irish beer called "guiness" which he suspected existed due to fae influence on the island which put it several steps above other earth beers, and collapsed down on his ratty couch.

Faun shivered as a chill wind flowed around him. He looked at the setting sun as he stood just outside of the entrance to his apartment building, feeling that something just wasn't quite right about it. More than...no, that was nothing. He shook his head to clear his mind, bring him back to reality. He had to stop reading all those stories in the quiet hours at the library.

He climbed the stairs leading to his apartment, enjoying the motion more than the old, nearly broken down elevator. The hallway on his floor was empty, leaving him a little disappointed, but then not everyone would be there all of the time. He unlocked and opened the door to his apartment, taking a deep breath as he sauntered in.

The interior of the apartment was filled with plants, some in pots, some hanging from the ceiling, some in windowsills. Several windows were opened, letting fresh air spill through the apartment. Faun smiled as he shut the door behind him and reached for the watering can he kept by the sink. "Hey guys, long day huh? Bet you all could use a drink, I know I do," He floated around the room, letting the water flow into each of the plants, hydrating his own glen before coming to a rest at a chair facing a window with a glass of wine in hand. He sipped it slowly and looked out onto what he could call a view. It wasn't much, but he could see a part of the park from where he sat, so it wasn't all a waste.

"Hmmm," he mused to himself, savoring the wine. "I wonder which party is happening tonight." A breeze from the window flowed over him as he pondered his own question. His mind went over the local scenes and raves. The warm breeze played through his hair and his light, flowing clothes. Faun sat there for a while, lost in thought and the sensation. Throughout the city, the wind played....

...a little later that night....

The trance music worked its way through the party, and the party was all around Faun. The air was filled with scents, delighted exaltations, and many other things. Everything swirled around Faun, the other partygoers, the music, the wind flowing in through the opened skylights. As always, he was surrounded by men and women looking to worship the night and revel in the simple joy of being alive, of tasting life and love, before returning to their normal lives. Of course they found themselves attracted to magic, to mystery. Whenever Faun was here, whispers lost to the music became clear, hearts searching found others like them. While desire was rich, Faun only rarely tasted of the stream. Would tonight be one of those nights, he pondered? Maybe not, but the night was still young...

Augustus wheeled his cart through the alley. Rats skittered out of his way, bounding through the trash. The cart's wheels screeched as he forced it forward.

Just ahead there was a basement level door that no one really noticed. He stopped and went down the stairs. He rapped on the door. The door opened. A sandy haired young man opened the door. "Hey Augustus."

"I've got cans and bottles."

"Sure thing," said the young man. He looked at the half full cart. "Wow, got quite a lot there." Augustus said nothing. "So I'll trade you a beer, a nice juicy ham sandwich, and two bucks for the lot."

"Done," said Augustus. It was more than they were worth, he knew that, but it was merely a generous offer, not charity. He could accept generosity.

The young man ducked back inside. "Hey boss," he said to Weyland.

"What is it Peter?"

"Augustus."

The big smith sighed. "Cans again?"

"Yeah."

"There's no call in this world for a knight, not of his kind."

"He won't change boss. To set in his ways."

"Be generous."

"I know the drill."

"I know, it's just this night, something isn't right."

The sentiment wasn't unique to the Smith. In fact, one only had to go as far as the taproom of the Black Goat. Gold nails tapped on the table.

"Blood and pain,
Thunder and rain,
Hoping in vain," whispered the Prince of Coins. "Something is afoot this night and it is not a knight. Now who and whatever will do my bidding, just for now and not forever?" he whispered.

The woman walked barefoot over grass. Her dress was whiter than her skin and her jewelry was the same gold as her long hair. Her eyes were like stars, but the stars above her was unfamiliar to her. She looked around. The land was strange. There were trees and grass around her, but it was like a garden not a forest. Alien towers, decked in light, rose into the night sky beyond.

Glowing faintly, she took a few hesitent steps forward.

Ears prick again, twisting on the red-furred head, straining to hear again whatever had caught her attention. The dog-wolf made a frustrated sound deep in her throat, not a growl, not a whine, but elements of both as the sound failed to repeat itself.

With a huff, the rangy beast rose from her well-padded dogbed, pausing to stretch and yawn, showing off sharply pointed ivory fangs before the jaw snapped shut. Purposely she walked over to a low hanging coat rack and delicately lifted up her leash, carrying it over to her master.

She sat perfectly, laying the leash down at his feet and looking up at him with pale jade eyes. Puppydog eyes, begging to go out for walkies.

"Sometimes I think I raised you too well." Metalmaw grinned as he picked up the leash, attaching it on the wolf's collar as he walked across the room. He stepped to a mirror, which, unlike normal people, was showing a myriad number of reflections of him. After a few moments, it assumed that of a heavyset man who'd walk through any city without incident.

"There we go. Come on." He grinned, heading out for the requested Walkies. Something was in the air tonight..

Suuuure he raised her well. That's why as soon as they were on the street *she* was picking the way to go, encouraging him to follow with tugs or small yips and whines. The path lead straight to one of the few bars she was welcome inside... which also happened to be a haven for those Not Quite Normal.

Fluffy trotted down the steps to the Black Goat and pushed her way into the door. Waylend looked at her from over the bar. "Girl, why don't you wear human form?" the big smith asked amiably.

The rest of the tavern was sunk about three feet lower than the bar/entrance way. Lanterns and electric lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating most of the tap room, but throwing a few parts into shadow. The customers inhabited the areas of their choice.

Fluffy could see the ogre Bachus, no longer wearing his human disguise but appearing in his natural form of eight feet of hairless, ebon skinned muscle. His red eyes glowered above his tusk filled mouth. Beside him, almost invisible in the shadows, was his master. Gold glinted from the Prince of Coin's nails and from the stacks of coins he shuffled in front of him. Stacks of greenbacks sat near the coins.

At the bar sat a satyr, Rumbledown, wearing his human guise. His clothes were cheap, but clean and he wore his red hair thick and wild as a complement to his full beard and sideburns. "Hey Fluff," he grinned/leared at her.

A pair of goblins were downing tankards of ale in between rounds of jacks. Three dwarfs nodded and whispered amongst themselves. A wizened gnome sat in a corner and consulted a stack of books between sips from a glass of wine while a human woman moved one seat away from Rumbledown.

Cynical Cat wrote:Fluffy trotted down the steps to the Black Goat and pushed her way into the door. Waylend looked at her from over the bar. "Girl, why don't you wear human form?" the big smith asked amiably.

Fluffy rose to her back paws and waddled a few steps forward like a trained circus dog before dropping to all fours with a lupine grin. One day, Waylend would make that old joke and Fluffy would change for him. It would be amusing to see who got more embarrassed at the sight of her naked.

It would not be this night, especially with the Satyr in the room. His leer was met with a mock show of fangs as she dragged 'Phil' up to the counter. As was her norm, she lifted up, bracing herself against the bar with her front legs and cheerfully begged Waylend for her usual.

'Phil' sat at the bar next to Fluffy's begging, smirking. "Usual for me." He smiled, knowing that Waylend would get out the worst rotgut in the house. When you could eat anything, it made an impression when you ate the worst. Especially when you ate the bottle afterwards.

"Anything unusual happening here? I mean, besides Rumbledown remembering his pants for once."

Weyland brought out a small plate of raw goat meat for Fluffy and a bottle for Phil. "Something's up," he said. "I can smell it in the air. A fresh wind. I'm not the only one." He inclined his head towards the Prince of Coin. "He feels it as well and if he does, so do others."

A whine of agreement, coupled with a shiver of her fur was the only agreement she gave Waylend before Fluffy took a delicate bite of the goat meat. For a canine, her table manners were excellent.

After having two beers, Mace decided to read. He walked over to a pile of books he was working his way through and pulled out one called The Great Gatsby

...

About 45 minutes later, he felt like he wanted to pull out his own teeth

"For the love of all that is good and decent, who writes this drivel?" he asked the universe aloud.

"That's it. To the Black Goat with me... fucking earthers and their horrendous taste in literature" He pulled himself back off the couch and headed down to the elevator

A gold nailed finger rose into the air. Bachus grunted in acknowledgement and lowered his head. He nodded and then crossed the tap room to Phil and Fluffy. "My lord wishes to speak with you," the ogre rumbled.

Mace walked into the Black Goat and sat down at a table. And pondered for a second what to have. After a second he cursed his indecisiveness at any form of eating establishment, and his own larders for that matter.

Up at the counter, Fluffy continued to eat her bloody rare goat meat as Bachus made his approach. One ear followed his movements as the red-furred canine ate, that was all the notice she seemed to take of the ogre.

After all, this was Business. Phil took care of Business.

Rising up, 'Phillip' nodded. "Behave, Fluffy. No gnawing on patrons." He reminded the wolf with a grin, before ambling over in the decidedly unhurried gait he conducted all business with. "And what would you be wanting to speak of, Coins?"

The Prince of Coins leaned out of shadow. The Sidhe wore an sumptous Italian suit and accessories in black and gold. "I've heard that in this land, coin buys your hand."

"The right amount of coin. Some details, your Prince-ness." Metalmaw turned one of his more disturbingly predatorial smiles on the Sidhe.

Faun caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye, a man moving from light to shadow and into light again. He was handsome, in an androgynous, metrosexual way. His gaze locked with Faun's for a moment and he smiled. Then he stepped into shadow for a moment and whispered into woman's ear.

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Gold finger-blades danced on the table. The Prince of Coin smiled back, showing too-sharp teeth and golden eyes.

"Something comes, something I can almost see,
A disturbance in the air,
Bring the one to me,
And you shall be paid what is fair."

Fluffy finished eating her meal, one ear tilted back to listen to the Prince as he and MetalMaw discussed business.

As she licked blood from her jaws, she had to wonder what an UnSeelie Prince would consider 'fair' ... and if it would be more trouble than it was worth to track down whatever had rippled across Chicago. Tracking that vagueness would be ... difficult.

"I love fair prices. In this land, it means 'Highest bid'.' Metalmaw smiled, nodding. "I'll see what's causing all this mischief. And I'm sure you'll make the highest bid.. Eventually." Ah, Mercenaries. "Anything further?"