Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » The Royal Mile Inn

Poor Henry Fitzroy, marrying this sourpuss, Brenna thought, as Lady Helena managed to be insulting to the King's son, Caitlin, and even to Brenna all in just a few sentences. No wonder the Lady's parents had to arrange a marriage so far away. Probably the princes and earls from Petula who'd ever met the woman had already managed to weasel their way out of that life sentence.

Brenna turned her attention back to the fortune teller. Despite her reservations about the whole ordeal, it was all too easy to get sucked into trying to decipher the exact meaning of Mistress Weather's words and how they might apply to her life.

"...currently happy and innocent, radiating joyfulness..."

For a moment she was tempted to roll her eyes at that one. In the 6 months since her father had died, her relatively cushy life had had the proverbial rug pulled out from under it. Geoff had almost immediately cut her off from the financial support she'd enjoyed her whole life and she'd had to really work just to afford to eat.

But at the same time, she took a certain pride in that work. Under Seth's tutelage, her locksmithing skills had been steadily growing and she was finding that making her own way also had an air of freedom that she'd never experienced before.

Maybe... maybe she was happy. Which, of course, made her immediately worry that this mystery man was somehow going to crush it all in 3 days time. It might not hurt to at least keep her guard up.

"Thank you Mistress Weather," she said and got up hurriedly from the chair to leave it free for the next customer.

"Uuuh.. I guess it's my turn?" Pint perked up. He didn't believe in all this fortune telling stuff but it certainly looked amusing. He wasn't sure if Brenna had been upset over it or not though-- might have to check up on her later.

Pint takes his place at Mistress Weather's table.
"Dwarves are hard to read" says Mistress Weather, shuffling the cards, "very resistant to magic. But we can try. What card shall I choose to represent you? I know, I'll take your staff."
She finds the Ace of Wands, and places it face up on the table.
"Go on Pint" says Captain Baring, "show you are not afraid."
"This covers him" says Mistress Weather, "and this crosses him". She places two cards face down over the Ace of Wands. Then she gets Pint to turn them over.

((Pint two d100, reroll a 1 or over 78, or a duplicate roll))

"Really? Ye'd think our fates are set in stone the way some of me lot carry on." Pint chuckled and nodded as Mistress Weather's decision for his card. "Aye, I suppose that'll do. Donna think ye got an Urgrosh card."

The dwarf gave a grunt to the Captain. "Ye'd think I proved me bravery already by fightin' the bloody Rhinoman. Go on and 'ave a go at Mokk then!" He says as he turns the cards over.

"This covers him" says Mistress Weather, and Pint turns over trump card 8, or Strength, "and this crosses him" and he turns over the King of Wands.
"You are a doughty dwarf warrior" she says, "who will be tested physically. By a fairly powerful male opponent, I don't say literally a King, but someone of high social status".
"She got strength for covering you" says Captain Baring, "I'd call that pretty accurate".

It's pitch black outside now, and the torches cast an eerie flicker on the table. Mistress Weather's cat moves onto the table. "Get down, Catherine," Mistress Weather says, and the cat appears to understand.
"This is above him, this is below him, this is behind him", she indicates to Pint to turn over the cards, "and this is before him".

((Pint roll 4 cards as before, rerolling any already drawn or over 78))

"Aye, I'd say so too." Chuckles Pint and leans back on his chair, agreeing with the Captain about the card status. He then scoffs at the King of Wands being drawn. "Wot? Another bloke wants to fight me? Eh, they just keep coming back fer more, don't they?" He laughs and raises his mug of ale at Mokk before turning the next cards.

Mokk had been watching the fortune telling with interest. He couldn't help but wonder what lay ahead for him. His people could be quite spiritual. He didn't mind consulting the sage and studying her forecast. The fortune would need to be contrast with that from his own people. It would be interesting nonetheless.

Mokk approached the fortune teller, nearly empty mug of ale in hand. "Never had me fortune read", said the Rhinoman. He raised his mug back to Pint before approaching the teller. "Any good are ye'?" The deep bass in Mokk's voice gave his accent a sort of formality.

"This is above him" says Mistress Weather, and Pint turns over Temperance, "and this is below him", the three of cups, "this is behind him", the last card, or the Fool, "and this is before him", the nine of swords.

"So I see" she says, "that you are a well disciplined and moderate person, who knows when to take pleasure, but has it firmly under your feet. That is the first two cards. But you have a less disciplined past. When you meet this man, it will catch up with you, and you will have a conflict with him, which will upset you. It will cause you great mental suffering".

Pint looks at the last card, and it shows a woman in bed, obviously awaking from a nightmare, with nine swords placed horizontally behind her.

"That card is spooky" says Caitlin, "I suppose Mistress Weather knows the meanings of them all".
Catherine the cat gets back on the table, and miaows.
"Mokk goes next", says Captain Baring, "then I don't mind going. BUt we'll see what misfortune is in store
for Pint".
Mistress Weather gestures to the last four cards.

((Pint four card rolls, as before))

"Maybe he's my mystery demon lover," Brenna whispers rather quietly to Caitlin with a smirk when Mistress Weather speaks of the man from Pint's past. She's still not sure if she believes any of this, but is more than happy to joke about it for now.

"So I had a bit of a chip on me shoulder when I was a wee lad. Who didn't, right??" Pint laughs, not really worried about this dreadful reading that he's getting. The dwarf was pretty superstitious, and he was putting more stock on Mistress Weather than others might, but he was also a warrior and he could do nothing else than keep going courageously. "Bah, maybe I'll feel bad after I thoroughly kick that bloke's arse. Hah!" Says Pint about his upcoming fight leaving him emotionally disturbed, still sounding in good spirits.

"This is hiimself" says Mistress Weather, and Pint turns over the Star. "This is others", the seven of cups. "People underestimate you" says Mistress Weather, "you are in fact in pursuit of noble objectives, see how the Star pours water onto land and into sea, but others, this man you will meet, see you mainly as a convivial companion".
"These are his hopes and fears," Pint turns over the Queen of Cups. "You are not afraid of the man you will meet" says Mistress Weather, "You are more concerned about a woman, a good woman. In fact I suggest she might be here, round this table".
"It's you, Brenna", says Caitlin.
"And this will be the final result". There is a pause as Pint turns over the critical last card. It is the Sun.
"How can that be?" says Mistress Weather, "I only foresee bad things. Something must have gone wrong. Dwarves are very resistant to magic."

"Maybe Mistress Weather has seen a good thing for once" says Caitlin, "The woman is Brenna, and the man is Henry Fitzroy. He will try to seduce Brenna, but Pint will see through him and confront him. Then everyone will live happily ever after."

"None of this can happen" says the Petulan ambassador, "Lady Helena is to marry Henry Fitzroy. It's all arranged, the deal concluded. He'll have to leave his former life, which I will admit was one of a libertine, and settle down as a respectably married man. So sorry ladies."

"Let's find out" says Caitlin, "who is to go next?".

"Maybe," Brenna said, noncommittally.

It was growing increasingly difficult with each passing prediction to blow off Caitlin's theory as too far-fetched. Still, she was trying hard not to put too much stock into it or get too stuck on one idea. There was no reason it couldn't just as easily be some other noble. And still... why would she even have the opportunity to meet a noble at all?

"I think you should go," Brenna said to the girl.

"Dare I?" says Caitlin, "Mistress Weather predicts only bad things. But then she made a good prediction for the dwarf, at she she seemed to say it was good, though she didn't say what it is. Maybe it won't be a bad thing after all."

She sits down at the table. Mistress Weather selects the Page of Pentacles to represent her.
"I see a man in your life" says Mistress Weather, "a rich man."
"Is it Henry Fitzroy?" asks Caitlin, "Do say it is."
"This has gone far enough" says the Petulan ambassador, "I insist that there is no more about Henry Fitzroy".
"What does it matter?" says Lady Helena, "it's not as if she can really tell the future."
"You foolish maid" scowls Mistress Weather, "questioning a wise woman three times your age. Of course my predictions are accurate."
"Then stop predicting nonsense about Henry Fitzroy" says the Petulan ambassador, "we can't tolerate it any more".

Catherine the cat scratches at the cards.
"I'll stop the fortune, then" says Mistress Weather.
There's an awkward pause.
"Brenna will meet Henry Fitzroy" says Caitlin, "won't she?".

Pint rubbed his beard and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Even as Mistress Weather went ahead and started another reading, he still seemed lost in thought.

"Uh.. I may have been missing something back there. Is the Sun a good or a bad thing? I donna get it." Not surprisingly, he's not well versed on the tarot.

Mokk seems to be caught up with a group. Several people exit the bar talking with the Rhinoman. They step outside of the inn, and move towards the large carriage sturdy enough to carry the large fellow. After a quick conversation, three dwarves seat themselves on the bench opposite of the Rhinoman. He'd agreed to give them a quick carriage ride. They were interested in the engineering which made it through the road deemed too rough for travel.

The carriage's ability to carry much heavier weight than a typical vehicle of its design also gave it stauncher legs on tough trails. These dwarves couldn't pass on the chance to pick up from this.

It appeared Mokk might be gone for awhile.
(I'm semi away for awhile. I might come back. Just have a ton of stories going on at the moment. I'll probably check in fairly often.)

The last words of Mistress Weather seemed to confirm even more that the fellow in question was indeed Henry Fitzroy. Which worried Brenna more than she might admit. She didn't want in the middle of Lady Helena's marriage. That kind of thing would put a target on her head, maybe even from Helena herself.

Could even the suspicion of such be enough to let the Lady take preemptive action? Or the ambassador? He seemed nearly as bent out of shape as Helena.

"The rich man in your fortune could easily be your father," Brenna suggested to Caitlin, trying to steer the conversation away from the idea of herself and Henry. "There was nothing yet to suggest it was romantic."

"Trust a dwarf", laughs Macey, "who lives in the dark mines and delves for gold, not to know whether the Sun represents good or bad. All life ultimately comes from the Sun. The Sun gives the grass life, which gives cattle life, which give us life. Fir even dwarves must eat."
"He will come into conflict with Henry Fitzroy" says Caitlin, "but eventually it will all be for the good".
"You are becoming obsessed with Henry Fitzroy" says Captain Baring, "I know you have met him, and your father hopes to sell him some spices. But Mistress Weather didn't actually say it was him. Just a high class man. And there are many nobles."

"He comes here often though, does Henry Fitzroy" says Buxom Betty, who is collecting some tankards, "on his way to Leymouth when he goes on his foreign travels. Quite a regular guest."
"So is it Henry Fitzroy, or was it you Papa?" says Caitlin, "Do tell us, Mistress Weather".
"Alas my cards are folded" says Mistress Weather, "and your fortune must remain untold."
"Tell one for Lady Helena" says Caitlin.
"I don't believe in fortunes" says Lady Helena, "they're always so vague they could mean anything. Besides, I hate to think what she'd foretell for me. I've got enough bad news as it is."
"I'll go for a fortune then" says Macey.
"No don't" says Caitlin, "she might foretell something bad, then where would we be?"

"So how shall we decide the matter?" asks Captain Baring, "Is there some test we can give to Mistress Weather which will prove whether or not her predictions are accurate?"

Standing along the path outside were two dwarves. They had simple beards of young commoner dwarves. One wore a simple chainmail tunic long enough to fall to his ankles. At his side was a hammer with a handle wrapped in red leather. A red gemstone was embedded in the handle's pommel.

"Flip sakes.. Due fer a drink, meself", said Rin, the ruddy dwarf, in a heavy accent to the other. "Bad 'nuff we 'ready missed the flippin' Rhinomen fight." He said the word 'Rhinoman' in singsong notes which seemed to escalate in pitch until trailing off. His accent also made the name for the species sound plural.

The pair had spoken briefly to the lumbering beastman soon after he'd left the tavern. Mokk filled the pair in on the details inside. It left Rin itching for a drink. "Road seems secure 'nuff lad", said the darker dwarf to Rin. "Take a load off."

"Aye", said Rin as he started to walk off. "I'll find someone to relieve ya meself", Rin said as his heavy footfalls brought him closer to the inn.

A heavy palm opened the door soon afterwards, stepping with quick strides towards the bar's dwarf level section of the countertops. "Gimme a mead, will ye'?" Rin slapped a few coins on the table, full of wear and patina.

(I'm back. One thing I needed to take a slight break for was to animate a dwarf... Among other people. But I've caught up with a lot and established a solid pace. So I can hop back here. Breaks are useful for keeping things fresh, so we all probably could have used the 'tactical pause'.)

Brenna's eyes suddenly roll over with tiredness. The wine, and the conversation, and the fortune telling have all been too much for her. She makes and excuse and goes to her room for a rest.

Bald Mick and Rosalind greet the new arrival. "Welcome to the Royal Mile Inn" they say, "we're just about to close the gate. There's odd folk prowl about at night. But it's safe in here, we have a detachment of soldiers posted to keep guard over us whilst we sleep. And Samuel will get your horses".

Rin goes to the bar, and slaps down his coin. He is served by a fair barmaid, the most beautiful he has ever seen. He is immediately taken by her. She taps the barrel for some mead.

"I can cure all sorts of illnesses" Mistress Weather is saying. She seems to have got into some sort of discussion about whether her powers are genuine. The others are gathered around her, and Tarot cards lie on the table. Lighting is from torches in the wall, it's dim and flickering. Mistress Weather's cat moves about.

"Fish pie or chicken stew?" asks Alfonce the cook. "Dinner will shortly be served".

((FYI that I'm still here. Just didn't seem to be any action for Brenna to take other than a fluff post since she'd offer no suggestions to try to prove or disprove the fortune teller and I was kinda hoping for a Pint post. I'm fine with her going to her room though ... she's sleeping on the floor. Not those flea infested mattresses! ))

"I'll come back down in a bit," she said, anxious to get away from the obnoxious Lady Helena. "If someone could call me when dinner is ready?"