Snowcones and Pigments

Goblintown, afternoon

Usually it's goblins, arvek and oruch who visit Goblintown. There are a lot of people who simply try to pretend Goblintown doesn't exist.

So when a somewhat-famous fellow who seems to fit in as well as a cranky bull at a ballroom dance comes in, people notice. They -stare-. But it doesn't faze Telamon. The bemused looks seem to slide off that impervious shield of calm he radiates. Dressed in his ruffled white silk shirt, black leather trousers, boots, and a large broad-brimmed hat with a violet feather in it, one might be forgiven for assuming he's some kind of dandy if they didn't recognize him.

But right now Tel's not out charming the locals. He's run into someone and is, for once, almost at a loss for words as he addresses a broad-chested, powerfully-build war golem. "Barrel? Uh... what did... is that intentional?"

The war golem turns to regard Telamon, and gives him a big thumbs up, blue eyes glowing. "Absolutely! How does it look?"

The reason for Tel's befuddlement is clear: Barrel's dull gray hull has been... artistically enhanced. Bright, eye-popping lettering in a yellow-green hue has been stenciled across his shoulder pauldrons, his legs, and his midsection.

The Goblin's dressed down, a bright orange summer dress replacing her usual robes and hidden armor. Her sandals click-clack-flip-flop pleasantly as she strolls along, seemingly not in any hurry at all.

She calmly steps around numerous hawkers and vendors, turning down outrageous (or amazing depending on who you ask) prices for a variety of things, many of them of dubious value if at all. "No thank you." is her firm reply, for those that attempt to delay or distract her. The little basket hanging from her elbow carries the purchases she's made, the occasional clink of glass or clank of metal heard as she walks along.

Her expression was already bright and cheerful, while the hot and icky day wasn't a huge amount of fun to be in, the sun was mostly absent, hidden in the clouds, and the feeling of not being cooped up in a monastery was pretty good. Upon seeing Telamon in the wide rimmed hat, a larger version of the one she was wearing, albeit with a red ribbon as an accent instead of the regal feather, Simony's smile broadened.

She catches the tail end of the conversation, and steps around the front to read what is written in the obscenely coloured lettering. "It looks like a war crime.", the Gobbo comments, before smiling up at Telamon. "Hiya Telamon!"

It's hard to ignore Goblintown when one's house borders it and the Trades. And he was not an uncommon face among here, but his Watch didn't extend here back in the day. Instead, he was here, walking leisurely amongst the chaos in a tank top and pants, a longsword clanking lightly on his belt as he goes, side stepping an errant bucket rolling along.

Just as he's about to turn a corner, he spies the shiny wargolem. Boots pauses. Then right face to amble forth towards the trio. "... Sir Telamon," he nods toward the man, then to the gobbo. "Simony."

Then his head cranes up to take in the war golem. "... hm."

The war golem seems to be a standard style, albeit broad in the shoulders and chest. Probably a close-combat type. But the writing is definitely a new addition. In bold, bright colors, printed on the left shoulder is 'SAY THAT TO MY FACE AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.'

On his right shoulder is inscribed:

'What matter wounds?

For each time he falls,

he shall rise again,

and woe to the wicked.'

Across his midsection is stenciled, 'THEY CALLED ME SLOW. ONCE.' On his right thigh is scribed, 'FIENDS AND WEREWOLVES? EVERYWHERE? GOOD!' with a cartoon axe imbedded in a cartoon demon's skull. And on his left thigh is painted, 'GO TIME!'.

Barrel opens his arms, showing off. "I had some ideas, and the nice gobber gentleman had more ideas, and he had some special paint he said wouldn't wash off... said it was from Peller or something--"

Telamon coughs. "Peller-- wait, did he use Pellarvin's Pigments? You know that's not going to come off any time soon, Barrel. I hope you're happy with it." He pauses, seeing Simony, and smiles. "Hey there, Simony! I was here for some alchemical reagents, and, well... ran into an old friend here. Who has... some new artwork."

Simony giggles at Telamon and moves to hug at the Half-Sil. She nods up at him, and glances at the Wargolem. "Nice to meet you, Barrel! While the slogans are neat, they convey a certain amount of no-nonsense, I am here to kick your behind feeling... uh, the colouration is brutal." Her ears perk up at the name, "Pellarvin's Pigments? You're going to need an industrial strength power washer to have any hope of removing that."

Her ears move, picking up the greeting from Warrick, and Simony moves to hug at him, her basket banging into her behind, making a clattering noise of glass and metal. Luckily everything stays inside the basket.

"What brings you here Warrick? And were you successful in finding the alchemical reagents? I hope you did not get fleeced, some of the people selling here are scoundrels."

Warrick tilts his head one way as he reads the inscriptions. Then the other to take in the iconography. "... the axe is a good touch," he politely comments, as the rest of his opinion is kept to himself, save for a raising brow as he reads the rest.

And listens. "... we used Pellarvin Pigments for standards on outer walls as they don't weather easily," he adds as an afterthought, idly reaching over to pat Simony on the back as he gets a hug.

"Just picking up Cinny and her friend not too far from here," he answers, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "Snowcone stall opened up."

Telamon finally seems to collect his thoughts, patting Barrel's arm as he turns to Warrick now, offering Simony a grin. "Ah, Sieur Retzner. A pleasure, as always." He rubs the bridge of his nose. "As I understand it, those pigments are barred from being sold in Alexandria to anyone not an adult because of their long-lasting nature. Something about 'finger paints from hell'."

The half-elven sorcerer snorts, straightening up. "Well Simony, I didn't have any problems. You know how it is. I just smile, and half the shopkeepers rush out to say hi, and the other half close up because they don't want to try and gouge me. I got what I needed -- though one fellow, Krabblin, wanted to hear about the time I blew up my alchemy lab." He rolls his eyes. "You have -one- mishap..."

At the mention of Cynthia, Tel's eyes grow mischievous. "Ah! Your clever daughter. I found myself speaking to her a time or two while you and Simony were on that Guild job. I think she's entertained some aspirations of studying magic, though I warned her that the less-flashy spells were more useful in the long run than the dramatic incantations."

The Goblin clings to Telamon for a little bit longer, enjoying the attention she gets in return. Her ears perk up, her expression growing curious. "Snowocone?", she wonders. "Erm. What are those? And where is the stall?" She peers around, looking up and down the street they stand in. "Say hello for me, to her, if we don't see her shortly, please?"

She grins toothily at Telamon, nodding. "Of course, you flash your winning smile, and do that twinkle thing with your eyes, and the vendors get weak in the knees. Did you get a good deal, then? And be careful... I was kidding about the power washer, but not by much. If you sneeze or spill that stuff... better hope you can run faster scared than Cor'lana can angry!"

Warrick nearly folds his hands behind his back as he stands, but it morphs to resting a hand on the pommel of his sword. "Yes. They are filed under, I believe..." he looks up to the sky. "... miscellaneous controlled substances. Must be of majority to purchase. Written in along with Gallied's Glue, Farchie's Fasteners, and-" A long, tired sigh escapes him, "-Gid's Grease. I... hate that grease."

He shakes his head as he listens to Telamon's pull with others, but the ex-guardsman isn't one to go full full force with what other's think. He blinks. "... she has, huh?" he shifts a bit. "She dropped watching jousting tournaments a bit ago. Been taking a crack at alchemy, I've noticed. If she gets further interested in magic, I'll send her your way. That is... something I can't help with." A beat. "I appreciate you entertaining her with it while she is figuring herself out, sir," Warrick says, a tinge softly.

He looks to Simony, then points down the road, out of Goblin town. "Trades. Main square. Goblintown has it's niceties, but I wouldn't trust anything shaved here. You can say hi to her and her friend soon."

Telamon places a hand on Simony's head warmly, a benediction of sorts. "Look, all I know is that I encourage politeness in others around me. I'm very reasonable, after all." He chuckles. "No, I'm not in the market for pigments, durable or otherwise. I needed some other things for my brewing work, and Goblintown tends to have better prices." He pauses. "Though I was tempted to veil myself as a goblin or arvek to avoid drawing attention, I found that I don't -sound- like one, so... honesty first."

Warrick's remarks draw a nod. "I have no objection to mentoring neophytes, though I sometimes wonder as to how effective I am at it." His eyes twinkle. "We were all young once, and alchemy isn't a bad way to see if you have the discipline to study more... arcane fare." He taps his chin. "Though I don't think she's a sorcerer. I'd need to use a talent-testing kit to make sure."

Simony grins at Warrick, "Hey, if there's one thing you can say about Gid's Grease... you've never gotten stuck on it before!" She snorts and chuckles, "Don't forget about Tony's Tanglefoot Bags, Louciano's Liquid Hair-remover and Sonny's Smokebombs. Never understood why hair remover is on the controlled substances list, I mean, it's only a little bit of fire. It's not their fault someone sneezed and burned down two townhouses and an illegal gambling den." The Gobbo peers out the way he points, and nods. "You're lucky if a shave is all you get, honestly." She rolls her shoulders in a shrug.

At the head pat from Telamon, she quickly removes her hat, sticking her bald head into the man's palm. "Ooh, your hands are nice and cool. Hmmm? Well, you have to up the volume a little, like you're about to command a squad of troops to kick in an illegal gambling den's door. Gargle a bit of the highest proof alcohol you have, and give that a try! Or, you know... magic!" Simony wiggles her fingers and makes little boom gestures with her hands.

Warrick shakes his head, a faint smile cresting his features at that. "Nor do you act like one. You'd stick out. Best to just embrace yourself." There's a thought that crosses him. "Your... brewing?" He rifles around in one of his cargo pockets, pulling out a well used journal as he flips about it. "... Redwater was frustrated about competition. Was that you?" he connects the dots aloud, snaping the book shut.

"Ah, no," he mentions about talent-testing. "My extended family hails from Myrddion, but we are Alexandrian. As far as my grandparents go, and my parents, and so in our limited lineage, there isn't magic at all. Save for the cantrip picked up to assist with something. She'll get it figured out."

A sigh escapes him at Simony's mentions of items. "... yes, I remember writing that report, the fire was... barely contained next to the munitions and spice depot." He blinks at Simony's head. "Oh. You shaved. It looks well."

He holds up a finger. "I will return momentarily," he mentions, stepping away and around the corner.

What swoops down from the sky is something quite odd indeed. A raven with violet eyes, a tad larger than the average raven, who lands on Telamon's shoulder, nuzzles into his starlight-colored hair, and then hops off--

Only to form into a woman, dressed lightly in an airy white dress with a lavender-colored underdress for the sake of her modesty. Cor'lana Lupecyll-Atlon smiles broadly, taking her husband's arm by the elbow. "Quite the group we have here," she comments. "Hello all."

GAME: Ravenstongue casts Beast Shape I. Caster Level: 17 DC: 21

"There's nothing questionable about studying wizardry," Telamon says with a smile. "As I've said, what matters is what purpose you put it to..." He pauses, tilting his head, then grins a bit. "In any case," he continues, "Whatever she pursues, I'm sure she'll make you proud in the end."

At the mention of Redwater, Tel barks out a laugh. "Ah yes. I heard about that debacle. Tomas is a member of the Shining Chalice and passed along the juicy details." He snorts. "It's absurd. I brew only a few bottles at any given time -- I spend more time trying to translate the text and make sure I don't botch the recipe. I'm not -competing- with anyone. But Redwater had tried to buy the book off me and got his nose out of joint when I turned him down. Idiot."

As Warrick darts away for a moment, Tel laughs. "Put your hat back on, Simony. My hands won't block the sun properly and you don't need a sunburn..." He hmmms at her. "Maybe I should use some of the techniques I use when speaking Draconic. That takes a certain amount of... phlegm." He seems utterly unsurprised when Lana lands on his shoulder in her bird form, and then transforms back... his arm going around hers. "A bit off my usual beaten path, but worth the trip, love."

The Goblin looks sad for a moment, and she shakes her head to Warrick. "No, it all burned off.", she says sadly. She watches as the man walks off, "Oh, maybe Cinny will come back with him. Though she might be playing with her Arvek friend."

The arrival of the raven draws a cheerful gasp as it settles upon Telamon's shoulder. Simony points at it, laughing at it nuzzles at Tel's hair. "Telamon, a bir... no, Cor'lana!" Laughing, the albino hops forward a few paces, smiling up at the Raven-haired woman. "Hello Cor'lana!", she says cheerfully, slipping her hat back onto her head. She eyes Tel a moment, "Oh, is that man still annoyed, or is this just the most recent event, that you spoke about earlier? And oh yes, Draconic has the right amount of oomph you need. Also, it's okay to screech, as you might imagine, quite a few Goblins do that."

Warrick nods once, firmly. "Whatever it is, I'll support her." Though, a mild sigh escapes him. "Yes, he must have botched it completely, as the wine elementals were... not very fun to deal with. They tend to be hard to shoot."

And he's gone. Only for a few moments before-- "HOLY GUALCAMOLE!" a girl's voice shouts from up the block, pointing at Cor'lana, a shocked expression on her pale, freckled face.

Beside her is a Avek Nar teen. Grey of tone with a yellow tinged nose. "Blessed avocado," she deadpans in an even tone, but the smirk on her lips was anything but jest as she elbows Cinny in the side.

"Girls, it is rude to point and stare," Warrick says, ambling forward as Cynthia hides behind him, stealing glances at Lana.

Her friend seems to have no such qualms, striding forward and leaning against the nearby building. Yellows dart over the couple, assessing. "The books lied."

Warrick huffs. "Lomi."

"Hello Simony," Cor'lana greets with a smile. "I hope you're doing well today." Then she regards Telamon with a wide smile as she adds, "Yes, a bit off the beaten path, but that's part of the fun of life sometimes. Plus, Lily-of-the-Valley was getting a _little_... on the nerves. The summer heat reduces my ability to tolerate her it seems."

Speaking of toleration. There's Cynthia's friend. Who makes a comment that might incite the sorceress to violence on any given day from someone else.

Instead, Cor'lana smiles wanly. "The reality is far better than the fiction in this case," she replies. "Hello, Warrick. Is this your daughter? And her friend?"

"I'll be honest, I don't think I've ever screeched in my life, Simony. Shouted, snarled, and hissed, but screeched?" Telamon glances at Lana. "Help me out here?" He chuckles softly. "It's definitely been a warm summer. Let me know if you think we need to take stronger measures against the heat. I'm sure between the two of us we can come up with something."

There's something right about the way the two stand together, united against the world. At the comment, Tel raises his eyebrows, though he doesn't offer any rebuke, instead remarking, "Indeed. Which is why it's better to learn firsthand rather than from someone's accounts -- even if they're trying to be honest."

He gives his wife's hand a squeeze. "So it seems. I've not met Lomi, but I've met Cynthia a couple times. Keeping up with your studies?" he inquires of the young girl.

"Oh yes, I could see how Lily could be ... trying at times. I see that it requires some patience to tolerate her for any length of time. Need to constantly throw things at her to distract her."

The Goblin giggles brightly at the loud intonation of holy sayings somewhat taken in vain. She looks back to Cor'lana, "I was offering Telemon some advice in how to make their voice sound more Goblin-ish. He feels his attempts are not up to the disguise he can magic up. It's a good disguise for wandering around here, certainly. Oh! Telamon, try wearing a mask, and then you can make a very exaggerated voice to go with it. They might assume you're part of the guards though, trying to figure out their game. But five times out of ten, it works all of the time."

She gestures to Telamon and Cor'lana. "No no, the books did not lie. These are Melaton and Lor'Cana's slightly less famous cousins. They usually have their noses in books and uhm, definitely don't go off gallivanting around the country side beating demons in the head and making werewolves rue their life choices."

Simony helps?

The Nar teen, Lomi apparently, shrugs. "Eh. It was a good read regardless," she mentions neutrally, unfazed. Teenage invincibility in the face of a duo that could snap their fingers and delete her from existence.

Cynthia has grabbed the back of Lomi's shirt and is jostling her friend around. "Show some respect...!" she jibbers in a hiss. <Goblin-talk>

"Good day, Lady Lupecyll-Atlon," Warrick greets. "Perhaps introductions. These two know you all and your exploits. The frantic one is my daughter Cynthia. And the impassive one is Lomi. Be ware, she is just as bad as Cynthia."

"Sup. I'm pretty sure the books had more bodices being-"

The father puts a hand on Lomi's face to shut her up. "Case and point."

Cynthia ceases her reprimands before fidgeting her fingers. "Um. A bit, Sir Telamon sir. I made, uh.... cleaning solution? I think?" She holds her hands up. "Baking soda and vinegar was an... interesting experiment."

Cor'lana's eyes twinkle. Just a little. She leans into Telamon as she says, "It's quite alright, Warrick. It's natural for young women to read about bodices when they have yet to know anything about them."

She then realizes that sounds far too much like a severe burn and she says, "That is--that is how I learned. I didn't have my first one until perhaps two years ago, now--no, less than that. Contrary to the books, ladies, I didn't come fully formed into the world knowing about man-eating. I still don't, really."

Then she looks at Telamon and says, "At least you can speak it. I've barely learned Mynsandraal myself, and that's a _dead_ language. The things you do for learning rather than use."

Telamon carefully conceals a smile, watching Cynthia and Lomi argue quietly before settling. His arm goes around Cor'lana's shoulders almost instinctively when she leans against him. "When you learn languages, you can't help but pick up other things as well. I really should look into picking up Mynsandraal, though. I've run across a couple texts in it and I always have to use a translation spell."

Tel gives Simony an amused look, before continuing, "The reality of people is both less and more interesting. We live mostly like everyone else -- eat, sleep, work -- but we're not plaster saints or marble statues. Just flesh and blood and emotions." He hmms. "That might be worth a paper, actually. I'll have to think on it when we get home."

He grins at Cynthia's description of vinegar and baking soda. "You have to start -somewhere-, Cynthia. As Lana says, no one comes into the world knowing instantly about a subject. You have to learn, just like the rest of us. On the upshot, we've been there before and can tell you it's not so bad."

"That's how you speak Goblin!", the only Gobbo of the group squeaks, gesturing to Cynthia. <Goblin-talk> "Maybe, Telamon, while she's learning from yourself and Cor'Lana, Cynthia can help you with your tone in Goblin? Seems like a fair trade, to me, learning for learning, teaching for teaching. A voice coach!" Simony bounces on her tip-toes, pleased. She peers at Telamon for a moment. "You are certainly presenting a very underwhelming argument, Telamon." Her gaze goes to Cor'lana then, her eyes squinting. "Is that where the term bodice ripper comes from? A certain kind of .. book, like the Crimson Pen's works?"

Despite the misintention, the beat of silence just gets the father to let out a short bark of a laugh. Cynthia sputters. Lomi blankly stares. Both blush. Warrick just shakes his head, "They'll get there when they get there," he says, assuaging the two as he just pats them on the shoulder. They pout.

Cynthia rubs her face. "Yeah, I'm learning about that the hard way about that," she says to Telamon. "Trying to like, ya know. Unlearn a lot of stuff about that."

She blinks at Simony. "It helps that I'm fourteen. But the hardest part is getting the nasally parts right.

Lomi leans over and pinches Cynthia's nose shut at the mention of that. But the teen just keeps talking, sounding beyond congested. "Well, I thonk zot I cayn try aynd mayke payne medicine next. Wyth Athlean help."

"They place too much expectation on children," Cor'lana says to Cynthia's remark about unlearning. "If you think for a moment that every adult has their things together from the moment they reach the age of majority--it's decidedly false. You're fourteen. I was cowering into books and sobbing into my raven's feathers at your age, and I did that for about _six more years_ after that until I moved here and became an adventurer. And you know what? I still do."

She smiles a little more fondly. "Which is to say you probably have a brighter head on your shoulders than you think."

Then she looks to Simony. "Yes, that's precisely it. I admit when I was a young teenager, I stole my mother's since it was all we had in the house aside from encyclopedias and various tomes on magic."

Telamon snorts. "Hells, I've met men twice my age who still don't have themselves sorted out. And don't think it's just 'oh hey, got it all figured out'. I'm -still- learning. The trick is to be able to learn, to think on your feet. And prepare for surprises." His eyes flick past Cynthia to Warrick. "I suspect your father can give you excellent advice on planning, after all. But from me? Buy some good protective gear. Trust me on that."

He shrugs lightly at Simony. "I'd rather be who I am, rather than some strange built-up notion of what people might -think- me to be. It's more honest." He smirks at the notion of 'bodice-rippers'. "Gods. One of my cousins is a huge fan of Doctor Barnabus Bizarre. He had a complete set of the books at the family home. Those were almost as bad as the Crimson Pen books I've seen."

Simony grins brightly at Cor'Lana, "It was the one type of book my mother did not let me have. I got everything else: travel diaries, encyclopedias, treatises on geography and holy books. Stuff the others could not read, it was all mine. My treasure. I have to say I was mildly surprised, as an understatement, when I first read one of the Crimson Pen books. If I never read 'heaving bosoms' or 'ripped bodice' ever again, it will be too soon. Genius idea, however, I am surprised someone has not sued the author or authors to oblivion yet. Though, they do generally stroke the person's ego, don't they?"

She nods to Telamon, chuckling. "I think we'd all rather you be you. Even if fictional yous can be sometimes enjoyable, for just a little bit. If only for the exaggeration factor. Sometimes it's funny because it's so ridiculous."

The Goblin holds up her little basket, which jingle-jangles noisily. "I've got to get my paints and implements home. I've some tattoo practice ahead of me." She moves to the teen girls first, offering hugs, before moving on to Warrick, Telamon and Cor'lana. "I bid you all a good evening, take care!" She begins to head off in the direction of the previously mentioned Snowcones. Someone's going to have an achy stomach this evening.

Cynthia bats the grey hand off her nose. "I meant more, like, stories blowing up details and stuff," she regards to Cor'lana. She kicks a lone screw nut down the road idly. "I know. I'm still just...- wait, you still do? But aren't you like,-" She pauses, glances to Telamon. "-you're really not that much older than me. That sounds... stressful."

Warrick chimes in. "I am working on that. We are going to a friend's next week."

The girls both perk, Cynthia blinking up at her dad. "Wait what--?!"

He just smiles, and shakes his head at that series. "My sister read those. I could not get into them at all."

The girls readily give Simony a hug: goblin culture is all about close quarters. Warrick gives one as well before they all wave goodbye. "Take care," Warrick says, glancing at the gobber's bald head.

"I'm only seven years older," Cor'lana replies to Cynthia with a little grin. "And Tel's only a year older than me, too. But that means a world away in some things and not very long at all in others. You'll understand someday soon."

She waves to Simony, and then eyes Telamon. "We should get going ourselves. Did you 'forget' about our reservation for dinner tonight? If we go in looking anything less than our best, 'Aunt' Liandra might have no qualms about tossing us back out. I hear she has another reviewer tonight from the Tribune." Her violet eyes twinkle before she looks back to Warrick and the girls. "You all have a lovely rest of your day, yes?"

Telamon deadpans, "She thought I was thirty-five at one point, Lana. Then again, we might as well be that old from her perspective." He laughs softly, then, and gives Lana a squeeze. "Take care of yourselves. And if you need some advice -- on alchemy, or anything else -- look me up." Then his eyes twinkle slyly. "Cynthia knows where the Chalice is, after all."

At Lana's pointed reminder, he chuckles. "Yes, dear. Let's get moving. I'd rather face devils than your aunt in an absolute snit over us being dressed anything less than perfectly."

It looks like the girls have something to add, but they are cut off from scarred and calloused hands ruffling their black and brown hair. "They'll understand for certain. But for now, they have smaller priorities. Like school. And snowcones."

He does, however, lightly squint at the mention of the Chalice. "Oh. Does she now?"

Cynthia glance to the side at Lomi. "I go left and you go right?" she gestures quietly. <Handspeech>

Lomi smirks lightly, and nods.

Warrick, not even looking at them, sighs good naturedly. "You two have a nice evening. Be sure to take a break occasionally from the mess of... well, everything."

The girls launch their plan, suddenly charging forward and grabbing the dad's arms, one in each, as they start to drag him away. "Snow cones!" Cynthia chimes, voice getting quieter with the distance. "HaveanicedayseeyoulatermaybeIcangetyoutosignmy-"

Lomi simply smiles. "Later, alligator."