Open Chronicles Syrenia's Cafe

[MrTophat]

Where the gnome did travel, the rain followed with him. It did not shower on anyone else, rather a malign cloud did drift where the gnome did tread was following his every move, lingering over him as a black mark against his sunny disposition. The gnome was set to speaking in rapid pace to himself as he lofted the regular sized umbrella over his diminutive self. The water hammered and flowed about him, leaving a path of circles of wet ground where he did go.

“How was I supposed to know that the local patron mage loved owlbears, I thought I was telling a perfectly reasonable story about people driving them out of the forest but no, no, the mage takes umbrage with the entertainment with such a serious heart! With art! My art in particular! The absolute curmurdegeon! The dander head!”

His stomach rumbled and he sighed.

“Probably wants a monopoly on the truth about the things, he hasn't had to wake up to the things screeching and clawing at some poor thing who didn't know his face from his boot. No need to curse an enterprising fellow practitioner with all this blasted rain! And if I perform a disjunction on it, the mage will know and he'll track me down no doubt! Wants all the rain in the world on my dang ol' parade. It's not seemly! Like I'm a jungle in need of never ending monsoon!”

The cloud rumbled and Bubkiss tensed, refusing to look up at the cloud, for shelter of tophat and umbrella. At this point a mighty wind did rebuff the gnome, from cloud born spite. With failing stubby hand he tried to fight the wrenching of the umbrella, but the cloud was too strong in it's galing purpose. The umbrella spiralled away, clattering down the streets, all spindles and collapsed canopy.

“Oh, that's just the pits! Time out Mister Cloud! I need some food to have any sort of patience with this blustering rain! Some peach snapps perhaps! Enough of you, enough of this, I am going in doors and if you follow me I'll, I'll!”

The illusionist snapped his jacket which was quickly becoming sodden, twisted his tophat on his head and shook a fist at the cloud, before throwing his hands up and storming into the local establishment which presented itself as salvation from the personal raincloud.

Bubkiss took quick step which did not carry him far across the threshold for his boots were big and his legs were small.

He turned upon the spot in half trepidation and half daring. The raincloud seemed to have some fears about following under roof. It lingered outside, saving what water was measured out exact to pour on the poor fellow.

“Good, excellent, outstanding,” Bubkiss said, going over the door frame and taking off his hat with a shake of water. He rubbed his nose and sneezed, catching it handkerchief as was good and proper.

“Oh, I feel a cold coming on already, woe is me, the gnome that be, this fellow needs something warm and quick,” he said to himself, replacing the handkerchief as he made approach to the establishment's owner as he took in everything as a tourist might. In many ways he still was a tourist to the cultures on display. The entertainment didn't quite click with him. He didn't think he could perform a show to it at the very least, but needs must.

“Can't be doing a show any time soon anyhow, not until the retort of rain ceases it's spate, can't sign autographs on my way when it gets all the fans all soaked to the skin, dispassionate thing, some people are just trying to learn a living and earn a trade,” Bubkiss said, making a jumble of his own words as befuddlement took hold.

He stood by the bar, a few paces away, so that someone might see him at all. It was foolishness to simply stand flush as others might, he'd never be noticed at all.

The illusionist, draped in purples of the showman, tapped on his tummy as he considered the menu as he completely disregarded the women. He waited patiently, just to be glad to be out of his own custom weather report, a small smile upon his features in relief of his condition. He patted his jacket down for where his tobacco lurked, and decided it was a day for the special blend, for he needed some kind of solace in all this water logged nonsense that was his life.

He breathed in deep of the solace that was cooking food. Being of rotund build, he was very much a creature of comfort, and had an internal battle between his imagination and the extent of his stomach's worth to fill.

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Garrod," he answered in kind, and jotted another little note before he watched those about stir within the little shop. A newcomer, small and portly came to the counter. Garrod looked on, curious of the new arrival.

The two young woman who sat at their table smiled warmly to each other, their hands twined. "Luke," the hazel eyed one said with a nod. "Nice name," she smiled on. "You play well, Luke,"

The flaxen haired woman nod her agreement. "Know any Allirian tunes?" she asked.

 

[Lukrozub]

Spoiler: Music IC (Recurring)

Syrenia... Luke measured the name amid the hostess, never mind his other patrons.
The first, that man whose words were written with effort, no mistaking his person.
Amid others, the two women, asking for apple spiced tea and water, quite simply.
Less simply? That more portly man with his mustache and purple amid his being.

With or without tobacco, the orc’s sense of smell was attuned more than tongue.
Oh, he could taste his soup, his bread, garlic and cinnamon, and he did so just so.
Yet, the scent of a person, and so different, that was an element yet to accustom.
Man in a hat, curious creature, in no negative way, as Luke watched his approach.

From spoon to soup, Luke returned to his lute, trading his gaze to those hazel eyes.
The woman complimented him, as a musician, though compliments are lost on him.
Then another woman spoke just then, whether the first’s companion, of Allirian music.
“No,” Luke answers simply, truthfully. “I play what known.” Lute’s string. Just plucking it.

A one-two pluck rhythm transforms into one-two-three-four.
No less rhythmic, not much different, carried across the floor.

“Alliria.” The orc spoke of what was known. “One city.” He sings in common. “Two cities.”
Basically. “Sits on Allir Reach.” Basic speech. “Bridges. Like webs.” Continues describing.
Singing. “Iron. Stone.” Whistling. “Rich merchants.” Strumming. “Craftsmen and blacksmiths.”
Plucking. “Alive. Survive.” Echoing others’ sentiments. “It is nothing but dust without citizens.”

No offense is intended.
Granted, it's just music.

Syrenia Garrod Arlette MrTophat

 

[Syrenia]

The curiously wet man made his entry, and Syrenia took a glance behind him to catch a glimspe of the strange cloud that sat waiting for his return. As the man sneezes and sputtered on, she got to her feet to put some more logs into the hearth that warmed their space.

"Give me one second, please, Garrod. I'll be right back! Mr. Gnome, there is some cinnamon bread on the counter that you may take. It's complimentary, so no worries." She left to the front door, easing around the raincloud and dashing up the stairs to the side of her cafe where she lived.

It wasn't long before she returned with a few blankets and a towel or two from her personal stores, and placing them into the gnomes hand, along with her crisp, new menu. It was clear she wasn't going to take no for an answer.​

 

[MrTophat]

Bubkiss felt immediately welcomed by such considerations, making himself bashful and humble as was required by goodly manners instilled in him.

"Oh, why, how kind, how kind indeed, yes, how thoughtful, my thanks, my deepest thanks."

Boots clonked towards the hearth, and the blanket was with the showman's skill behind any capery, shrouded about his stocky personage. He settled himself down on a chair facing the hearth, and felt at once in better cheer for such comforts. The menu poked itself out of the blanket, and Bubkiss stared at it for long moments.
A puzzled frown.

Then, a shaking of the head and a small emanation of self depreciating mirth as glasses were placed upon nose, the menu becoming much clearer to read for his aid.

He nestled within the chair which was like a pouncing lion around his short self, becoming more comfortable by the second. He set the tophat beside the chair, and regarded the menu as the worries of the cloud became secondary concerns to the empty stomach he contended with.

With some small effort of escaping his esconcement, he rummaged for some small personal affects. A silver tobacco tin, a pipe, and a small prism of glass which when set down played out all the colours of the rainbow in small radius about itself. Bubkiss smiled and looked with piqued interest at the menu, humming and hawing over the selection as he muttered to himself in quick fire thought made verbal.

"Very fine indeed, I have stumbled into some warming luck it seems, outstanding service already, must tip, mustn't spare the purse in patronage," Bubkiss said, justifying already his desire for numerous things to show gratitude to the establishment by comforting of his own rotund self, perhaps with three, no, make that four courses thumbed out in quick thinking.

Syrenia Garrod Arlette Lukrozub

 

[Garrod Arlette]

A nod of understanding. A smile feint across his lips.

The music swelled with lilts and strings set to sing, as words came spontaneous and true.

The young women chat about the lives they lead together. How the festival was just about the corner, and how Paytr still had weeks before his ale was ready. A laugh at the memories from yesteryear, and the curious gnome, with his bright attire, and tall hat.

Garrod's stick of coal went on, scritch and scratch, glad in his pocket of warm calm.

"That's an interesting stone," Garrod said to the gnome who sat alone, a bright spectrum shine across his table as the song came to end.

The young ladies clapped, small and earnest in fun.

 

[Lukrozub]

Speech was admittedly easier for this orc regarding singing something, whether lyrics already written or words more spontaneous when it came to these two women amid the other patrons. His performance was rewarded with applause, although he would look like someone who was just as lost on it as compliments.

"Thank you," he genuinely responded to the clapping. "I take break." With that, Luke returned to eating his food. First a spoonful of soup, then a bite of garlic bread, dipping cinnamon bread in next. Ew. No good. No good! Mixing savory with sweet was not a good combination in this instance.

"Syyyyy..." He began, sounding the word out, hoping to get it right. "Reeeeen..." One of the ladies began giggling and he wasn't sure if he was being laughed at or with but did not pay much attention. "...Eeeee-uhhhhh..." No good. "Sy-ree-nee-uh." Good? "You cook good. Me like much. Luke hunt for Sy-ree-nee-uh, yes? Cook more good food!" At that, Luke lifted the bowl to his lips and drank.

Syrenia
Garrod Arlette MrTophat

 

[Syrenia]

She kept her face as polite as she could when dealing with the gnome but his mannerisms and strange clothing made her stare linger a bit too long. She still smiled as best she could, holding back her desire to gawk at the gnome, and tilted her head forward in thanks
"Ah, don't worry about that, please. I have some cinnamon bread here that is complementary, sir." She placed a piece of the bread in front of him with a napkin between her fingers and the bread. "Please enjoy."

Facing the orc once more, she gave him a patient smile, "Syr... en... ia. Like.. Sir. enia. I will answer to either one, though... What are are all of your names?"
​

 

[MrTophat]

"Enjoy I shall, yes, goodly," Bubkiss said, and sniffed the bread deep.

The question rose from Garrod, and Bubkiss affixed his glasses firmer upon his nose as he spread his fingers and shot his cuffs out, as if presenting the item for auction.

"Why yes, it's a perfectly balanced and well cut scatter stone, what we know in the trade as a calibration tool for the high fancy feeling light parades oh so in demand, oh my oh yes. It's served me since I was a nipper, although back then I can barely make sense of the fourth and fifth quadrant. Now, well, it's a second home, across the Z axis to where what I do think comes about in sparkle fit product. Yes!"

He side eyed the bread. Sized it up. Siezed it, took a momentous bite of crust. Chewed thoughtfully, swallowed then continued.

"Course, any common source wizard might call it something like a prism of potents, but it's plain to see, it's a cut scatter stone first, and a prism of potents second. Heh."

 

[Garrod Arlette]

Garrod listened to the gnome gnome on. Smiled and laughed some. "You don't say," he wrote down with quick flicks within his folio. An absent nod to bread. "How's the bread?" He asked with soft smile, eye still fixed on his page. "Was rather fond of it myself," and found himself fond of how the man spoke. Quick as a zap. Sharp as a cut.

The young women smiled to the owner of the cafe, who hustled and buzzed to tend to them all, the one with bright golden hair "Arailia," she said warmly.

"Penny," the chestnut haired one added.

Garrod bowed his head to the knowegable gnome. "And, your name, master gnome?" He asked, playful in his formality.

Syrenia Lukrozub MrTophat

 

[MrTophat]

"Bubkiss Widewallow, Illusionist," the gnome said, and caught another sneeze within his handkerchief.

"Bread's splendid, fine and good!"

 

[Lukrozub]

Luk had tried to pronounce the woman’s name and felt proud that he wasn’t too far from the park anyway. Sir. Enia. Sir-Enia. “Sir…enia…” Was that it? He hoped so but onto business, as a merchant once said in expression.

“Lukrozeb,” Lukrozeb said. “Can call Lukrozeb ‘Luk’ instead. It sound Luuuuke, yes-yes.” Nodded, lifted cup of tea, sipped heartily.

Other two women named themselves in turn, offering Arailia and Penny, to which Luk pronounced silently. A-ray-lee-uh… Pen-nee…

The man of tophat and umbrella spoke next, and his name was one that Luk was so fascinated with that he could not help but chew on bread in thought. He swallowed and spoke.

“Fine good bread! Yes! Splendid! Yes! Like Buttkiss Wideswallow! Very good fine, yes!” There was absolutely no illusion of amusement in his tone, no expression of ill sentiment, just a person not so experienced in pronunciation. Forgive him?

Syrenia Garrod Arlette MrTophat

 

[Syrenia]

((ooc: getting back into it. feeling quite sluggish, so sorry for my lazy post.))

-----
"Luko...zeb?" She repeated back to the orc, her eyebrows knitted together in contenctrationw hile she tried to pronounce the quite unique name, "Ah, yes. I quite like Luke better."

She flashed a smile at Luke, "And, yes. I think I'd enjoy a bit of wild game if you can. I have an idea for a duck roast that I feel would go well as a lunch item, Luke. Thank you for the effort."

Syrenia brushed out her dress and slipped back behind the counter of her cafe. She was quite content with how well her place was doing, and it was barely 10'o'clock in the morning and she had already met a colourful array of people.

Garrod, a curious individual who first striked her as a delinquent proved to be soft and polite in her eyes and quite talented with words. His strange features perked her interest and she would absolutely love for him to return to her cafe, and learn more about his background.

The orc Luke caused her some alarm at first, but his gentle nature and humorous way with words warmed her up slightly towards this particular orc. His ability with his lute surprised her immensely, as she never thought that someone of his particular species could create such memorizing music.

Aralia and Penny were both quite pretty and while not yet telling their own stories, they were a welcomed addition after the orc, and filled the space with laughter and conversation.

And, finally, the eccentric little gnome who arrived in her cafe in such a curious state... Syrenia doubted she would ever forget Bubkiss, even if he did arrive like a normal being. Although he was quite talkative, most of the words flying over her head, she could see that he brought the space together.

The warmth of the people filled her with content, and she admired them from behind the counter for a few moments, before slipping off into the backroom to check on the soup.
​

 

[Lukrozub]

After Syrenia entered behind the counter and further, the atmosphere of this establishment continued in its serenity, offering a warrior like this orc a measure of peace.

There was the scent of his salty sweet potato soup beneath his nose, with its earthy onions and spring carrots, the savory and buttery garlic bread, mixed in with the aroma of flower and wood from his oolong tea enough to put him into a coma and an endless dream.

He didn’t sip, didn’t bite, but silently stroked his fingers along the strings of his lute, with no music, as if absent of mind. It was the way someone might graze along the edge of a blade, and he had those too as he watched in thought.

Garrod, he who writes words well, along with Bubkiss, the small man with a tall hat (from Luke’s perspective), appeared to be nearly as tranquil as the tea. Yet, Luke was always ready for battle. For all he knew, the other two women in the room could be assassins waiting to smash his lute and attack him too.

Luke didn’t look for trouble, but he didn’t live in a bubble despite not being versed of this universe. His purpose, his voyage, had only just begun as he considered the mission that had been given him. It had a current objective: Hunt.

“Duck roast,” the orc repeated to himself. “Roast duck.” He thought about words, letters, how to speak and spell. Outside someone rang a bell. Time fades as does the day, but the dirt remains… “Where go for hunt duck?” He asked no one in particular.

Syrenia Garrod Arlette MrTophat