#i wasn’t watching the yarn store people as i overheard this conversation

[psqqa]

rip the lady at the yarn store who didn’t want to start with a dish cloth because “that’s so boring” and instead is going to jump straight into a “washable dog sweater”

[pixieungerstories]

Captive - 9

Hi Readers - I hate to be like this, but if you love this story, please go here to subscribe.  I’m not intentionally neglecting the free content, it’s just getting overlooked right now.  My next book deadline in Nov15 (2020).  Normally, it’s just me writing for me and you get the benefit from that.  This time Podium Audiobooks has me under contract for second book in the Mistaken Universe.

Also - if you have the time - the occasional gentle reminder is appreciated.  Today’s post is brought to you by @dizzy-poncho who sent me some love and made my brain realized I hadn’t posted in a while.

The sound of someone pounding on the door was less than an ideal way to be awoken. As was the kitten, who had up to that point had been curled up behind her knees, screeching and bolting. Elly glanced at her watch, she had managed maybe four hours of sleep. The person on the other side of the door pounded again. Groaning, Ellly got to her feet, stomped over to the shop door and wrenched it open. 

“What?!” 

The church ladies were clearly taken aback by her tone. They stared at her in stunned horror. 

“The sign says we’re closed for the day.” Elly announced.

“I just need-” Posy started to say, but Elly interrupted.

“You need to come back tomorrow.”

Posy narrowed her eyes, “I could just as easily order my yarn off the internet instead, you know!”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Elly replied sadly.  “Good day then.” She then closed the door on the women’s shocked faces. She leaned against the door for a minute and groaned before rallying the strength to head upstairs. On her way she nearly tripped over the reappeared kitten. 

“Jesus, cat! Learn some self preservation!” Elly scolded as she scooped up the tiny thing. The kitten clamored up her arm to her shoulder and settled in for the trek upstairs. Elly tried to remember where she had stored Mitten’s cat stuff. In all likelihood she probably gave it away when she figured her cat had been eaten...Well she’d need to take the kitten for vaccinations anyways. She could pick up whatever she needed then. First thing on the list, a bell collar.  

Well, that could be second. The first thing she needed was a name. Elly wondered for a moment if George would want any say in that. The thought could wait. First she needed a nap, or possibly a whole lot of coffee. Likely both. 

Ben was just staggering out of the spare room when Elly got back to her apartment.  “Shit, boss, I am late getting started this morning.”

Elly sighed, “We are closed today.  How are you feeling?”

Ben shrugged, then rubbed his bleary eyes, “Slightly hung over, possible still a little drunk, and baffled that you have a dragon living in your basement.”  He looked at her face and frowned, “Did you sleep last night?”

Elly shook her head again, “Not really.  I napped.”

Ben winced, “Was that my fault?”

Elly shook her head again, “I was up too late and started getting creeped out by the sounds of the house settling.”  Ben really did look awful.  “Right!” she announced, making him wince again.  “Big glass of water, a couple of aspirin and back to bed.”

Bean groaned, “I would roll my eyes at you except that they feel like they might fall out of my head if I tried.”

Elly snickered under her breath and went to the kitchen for a glass.

“So tell me about George.”

She froze.  This was awkward.  “I think you should ask him about him.  Carefully. I don’t want to offend the dragon in my basement and neither do you.”  She filled the glass with water and handed it to him.  As Ben drank the water she pulled the aspirin out of the spice drawer.

“Does he breath fire?” he asked, lightly, trying to make a joke.

Elly pursed her lips as she considered that.  “More like belches fire, but he can adjust his body temperature to heat the building.”

“You are fucking kidding me!”  His eyes went wide as Elly shook her head.  “Holy shit.”  It was said reverentially, whispered almost like a prayer.  Ben took two steps to the left and sat heavily in one of the kitchen chairs.

Elly gave him a sympathetic look.  “I am honestly unsure if this conversation would be better once you are sober.  It could turn out to be worse.”  She hesitated for a moment before adding, “Are you planning on quitting?”

“Why would I quit?” Ben asked with a frown.

Elly frowned right back at him.  “Because there is a dragon in the basement.  And if you tell anyone, they will just think you’re delusional.”

Ben considered this.  “You won’t.  Think I’m insane, I mean.”

“I’m not really the best judge of sane, Ben.” She sounded sad when she said it.  

There was a long moment of tension before the kitten stropped up against Ben’s leg, causing him to curse and stand up fast enough to knock over his chair.  It hit the ground with a clatter and the kitten bolted.

“Was that Muffin?” he mumbled, looking sheepish as he picked up the chair.

Elly frowned, “You mean Mittens?  No.  George brought it home last night.”

“Like a present?  That’s sweet.”  After a moment, Ben added “And a little weird. Where did George get a kitten?”

“He said someone killed its mom and littermates.  He was vague on the details and I didn’t push.  He would have told me if he wanted me to know.”

Ben shivered, “Yeah.  I was picking up my spice delivery at the post office last week and overheard the Debbie from the pound saying it was less killing cats and more a plaque of cat mutilations.”

Elly went very still.  When Ben finally looked up and met her eyes, she whispered, “Are we talking disemboweling here?”

Ben blinked and stared at her in horror before nodding.  “How did you know that?”

Elly spun on her heels and fussed at the sink, giving it a wipe before putting the kettle on the hob.  “George was unusually circumspect about what had happened. I couldn’t figure out why, he isn’t usually shy.”

Ben snorted, “I can see that about him.”  He watched her face, it was easy to see the wheels turning, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking.  “If someone is hunting cats, it might be safer to take … um. . . her?  Or him?  Whatever, take the kitten to a vet a couple of towns over.  If you are keeping it, I mean.”

Elly gave him a puzzled look, “Of course I’m keeping it.”

Ben fought a smirk, “You sure?  Have you named it yet?” 

Elly considered this.  “Nyx, goddess of night.”

Ben snicked, “Really?  What if its a boy?”

Elly rolled her eyes, “Ben, I’m not going to enforce gender roles on a kitten.”

Ben just shook his head.  “Fine, but when we go to the vet, you get to drive.”

----

The vet proclaimed Nyx to seem perfectly healthy and old enough for vaccination and FIV testing.    They booked her in for a spay in two weeks.  Next stop was the pet store.

Ben picked out an adjustable purple collar and neoprene cat harness.  Elly gave him a look.  “What?  You can harness train cats it you get them young enough.  I follow Suki Cat on instagram!”

Elly blinked, “Huh.  I never would have picked you for a cat person.”

He smirked, “Stupid cat videos is what the internet is for.”

“Really?  Because I suspect most people would say porn,” Elly teased, then was surprised when he blushed.  She managed to fight the urge to comment on that, and while she was wrestling with her morals, Ben left to go look at cat carriers.  Nyx meowed and tightened her tiny claws into Elly’s shoulder where she was sitting.  

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out.  “That was rude.”

Ben just waved her away.  “More unexpected. I haven’t seen that side of you. You are very, um, professional.”  He didn’t make it sound like a compliment.  When he realized she was frowning slightly, Ben flashed her a smile.  “You are a great boss, Elly.”

Elly coughed, “I’m not actually your boss, you know.”

Ben blushed again.  That was new.  “Any preference on cat food?”

Realizing he was trying to change the subject, Elly turned to face with wall of food.  “Wet food for cats.  I’ve never had one do well on kibble.”

“Did, um, your other cats sit on your shoulder like that?”

“Nope, this is a first, but she seems to like it up there.”

They watched each other awkwardly for a moment.  Elly broke first.  “Ben?  Are you OK?”

Ben quickly turned his head to the right and scoped out the litter boxes.  “Ina wasn’t that fun to work with,” he admitted.  “Most of the time you are.  Weird, but fun.  I’m starting to understand where the weird comes from.  And now I know that too.  How do you go through your day knowing something like that?”

Elly sighed.  “Ben -  Look, tell me about yeast.”

“What?”

Elly rubbed her eyes, making Nyx meow and dig her little claws into Elly’s sweater.  “You told me that yeast for bread used to come from beer, then the beer yeast changed and there was a shortage, right?”

Ben frowned, “Yeah, brewers switched from top fermenting to bottom fermenting and that process didn’t make the byproduct that bakers use.  But what does that have to do with George?”

“How many people do you think know that?”

“Elly!  It doesn’t matter!  People knowing or not knowing about yeast doesn’t actually matter!”

Elly just raised an eyebrow, “How does knowing about George matter?  Yeast is way more practical on a day to day basis.”  Ben stared at her like she was insane.  Elly kept talking, “Most people, including me, would consider baking bread or spinning wool or knitting a weird and slightly esoteric hobby.  George is just one more weird bit of trivia that you now know.”

[moderndaybard]

CR Inktober, Day 15

SELF-INSERT NPC: ANTONIA MARSHSTEAD

 The town was not unimpressive—indeed, was increasing in populace and prosperity at such a rate, it could probably be deemed a city in the next year or two. Still, there wasn’t any reason for Vox Machina to be there, other than that it was a stop on the way to where they were going, and a convenient place to drink and stay the night.

Still, there were a few hours left before businesses close dup for the day, and despite protests from Grog, Vex was on the hunt for interesting finds and bargain prices.

Asking around after magical items and weapons, the group of adventurers found themselves directed to an unassuming, two-story building that didn’t really stand out too much from the local architecture, bearing a sign that declared it was ‘Marshteads’ Magicks,’ and that it was, in fact, still open for business late that afternoon.

The door opened noiselessly, no bell or chime announcing their arrival, and not a floorboard creaked as they strode in to the well-lit interior.

Sunlight streamed in from the two large, street-facing windows, revealing a neat and orderly main area which smelled faintly of lavender and cedar. The store interior, as well as the counters and display shelves were all made of a light-colored wood that gleamed dimly with their finish and the golden afternoon light. There was an open main area; two window displays flanking the door to the street, where various pieces of (presumably enchanted) jewelry were visible; left of the entrance was a glass-and-wood display case of small weapons: daggers, hand crossbows, blots, arrows, a light weight rapier, and the like, with larger weapons such as great swords and battle axes on shelves and pegs on the wall behind; on the right side of the store was another display case, this one filled with an odd assortment of household sundries, knick-knacks, and generally useful items (there were no shelves or wall displays on this side, but half-hidden in the far corner behind the case was what appeared to be a sort of work table with various sewing tools, some yarn, and a few toys on it); finally, facing the door across the floor was a plain, uncluttered counter with no displays—evidently, where sales were finalized.

Aside from the street door, the main room had two other entrances: one open archway to the right, just beside the worktable, that revealed a set of stairs ascending to the second floor, and a closed, heavy wooden door in the wall behind the sales counter.

The store seemed empty, even of people running it, save for a handsome red fox curled up on the sales counter, half-asleep and ignoring Vox Machina, for the moment. With a gasp of delight and absolutely no hesitation, Keyleth ran up to the creature, all but putting her head on the counter beside him. “Hi!” she chirped, fixated on the furry animal as one eye slitted halfway open to regard her levelly. “I’m Keyleth! What’s your name?”

The fox stretched, sat up, scanned their group, and turned with deliberate nonchalance to the stairs beyond the archway before screeching loudly.

Seconds later (while their ears were still ringing) pounding footsteps on the stairs heralded a new arrival: grumbling half-hearted, half-heard curses under her breath, a female dwarf rounded the corner. Her dark hair was pulled back in a simple braid, her grey eyes peered at them from behind a pair of glasses, though she seemed to only be in her young adulthood, and she was dressed simply: tunic, vest, skirt, leggings, boots.

As she approached the counter (stepping up on some sort of boost or stool that was hidden behind it), her scolding became audible: “—too much trouble to just walk up the stairs to let me know someone was here? Just had to screech like a tortured demon and scare customers? And you wonder why Henry doesn’t take you when he goes to negotiate with suppliers.”

The fox merely hopped off the counter on her side, vanishing from view briefly, then darting up the stairs. Tirade over with the disappearance of its target, the young dwarf woman focused on the party before her, scowl melting into an apologetic half-grin. “Sorry about that: familiars can get cranky during extended separations, and Fabian’s always been overly dramatic anyway. Anyhow, welcome to Marshteads’ Magicks—are you in the market for anything in particular, or just looking to browse?”

The final sentence was undoubtedly a rehearsed, often-delivered script, but to her credit, the young woman mustered or at least feigned a genuine enough tone that gave them the feel of natural dialogue.

Before Vex could answer, Keyleth broke in with something that’d been bothering her since first approaching the store: “Did you know that your sign is messed up? The apostrophe is wrong, and it’s misspelled?”

“The sign is correct,” came the immediate reply, in a tone that this was a correction she’d had to make a few too many times for her patience, but didn’t want to completely alienate potentially paying customers, “Marshstead is the family name, and since my brother and I run the store together, both plural and possessive are correct.” She then deflated somewhat, glancing away in a moment of embarrassment, perhaps? “…And the ‘K’ is just for flare.”

“Showmanship is an important facet of salesmanship,” Percy ranted, hoping to placate the woman before she took out any ill-will on the prices. “Though I must say the aesthetic is more reserved than I wouldn’t expected in such an establishment.”

The young woman glanced around, nodding. “Organized, you mean? Neat? That’s on me: I can’t think or work in a cluttered area. Hence avoiding the workshop as much as possible.”

“You don’t perform the enchantments yourself, then?” Vex asked, looking up form the bowstring and arrows she’d been examining out of professional interest.

“Oh, that’s Henry’s field,” came the quick answer. “He’s the craftsman, I handle the storefront for him. Is there anything in particular I can help you with or help you find? Any questions?”

Pike looked up from the display case she’d been staring into. “Uh, Miss—?”

“Sorry: Antonia. And you?”

“Pike Trickfoot. Antonia, why is there a frying pan in the case with the weapons?”

There same a genuine, if half-embarrassed chuckle in response to that question. “That started as… Well, not a joke, really. When we were younger, someone made an insulting comment about Henry’s skill with magic and enchantments, and told them he was could make even a cast-iron skillet into a powerful magical weapon. Turns out he overheard that conversation, and remembered it. So, he made this: it’s a magical bludgeoning weapon not dissimilar to a great club or the like. Additionally, it deals an extra kick of fire damage upon a successful hit. It is a two-handed weapon and requires attunement, but once it is attuned, anyone else who tried to pick it up finds it too warm to the touch to handle—so, generally thief-proof. Unless you use an oven mitt or the like, I suppose.”

“Anything else it can do?” Vax asked, half-joking. Antonia had rattled off the weapon’s attributes with the ease of someone who knew them by heart, but also with genuine pride at her brother’s accomplishment—unusual as it was.

“Well, any food prepared in it does cook twice as quickly—but that can be a good or bad thing, depending on how close an eye you keep on your dinner.”

Vex blinked, then shook her head—the thing was almost too ridiculous not to get, to say nothing of the mental image of a monster’s expression roughly half a second before it got hit by a frying pan. “How much for it?” she offered, haggling mode already engaged.

Antonia didn’t hesitate. “750 gold.”

“For a frying pan!?” The half-elf fired back, ignoring whoever it was behind her that groaned (probably Grog).

“For a cast iron pan with two magical enchantments upon it—enchantments that had to be uniquely crafted in order to adhere to a non-traditional weapon.”

Vex raised an eyebrow at the dwarf. “it’s essentially and enchanted household object,” she pointed out, then watched as the other woman’s expression darkened. Oops.

Nearly all trace of the ‘saleswoman’ persona had vanished. “Degrading my brother’s time, effort, creativity, and craftsmanship will not incentivize me to lower the price.” Arms folded, her glare dared the ranger to make the next move.

“Fair point,” Vex had to grant, quickly changing tactics before she drove the price up. “How much could you come down if we told anyone that asked about this unique item all about this shop and the master craftsman who made it? And your brother could tell people that not only did he make a frying pan a weapon, he also sold it to none other than Vox Machina!”

Silence stretched on for a moment or two.

“725.”

“675 at the most,” vex shot back.

Antonia raised one eyebrow, arms still folded. “You can hardly expect to persuade me to cheat my own brother out of the rightful reward for his work.”

They were a few moments away form meeting at 700, Vex could tell—they simply had to finish out the final few steps of their dance. Despite the growing impatience from the group at her back (at least, from some of them), Vex’ahlia did exactly that. The gold changed hands (700) and the enchanted cooking pan was handed over.

A discussion soon arose over which of them could and should wield it, but Vex ignored that part—she was hardly a candidate for what was very obviously a strength-based melee weapon—and scanned the shop again. This time, a glimpse of something small and brown on the corner worktable caught her eye.

“Is that an owl bear toy?”

Antonia followed her gaze, her entire demeanor shifting towards something that could almost be described as awkward hesitancy. “I-uh- have been teaching myself crochet on days when the store is slow. It’s relaxing, honestly. But, yes, I have been working on some small toys and the like…”

“May I see it?” Vex asked, feeling Vax move up behind her as he overheard the conversation.

Antonia blinked, obviously caught off-guard. “Uh, sure…” she muttered at last, crossing to the table and retrieving the item in question before returning.

It was small—not quite as big as Vex’s fist—and was certainly a stylized, simplified representation that was cuter than it was accurate. The craftsmanship was hardly masterful, either: while Antonia was obviously not clumsy or a rank novice, there were still a few visible imperfections. Still, there was an undeniable charm to the little doll, and with one shared look, the twins were of one mind.

“Do you sell these?” Vax asked. Upon seeing the dwarf hesitate, he continued, “if not, I understand—sometimes you just make things for yourself or have sentimental attachments.”

“I-I don’t mind selling it. I just figured no one would really want it. …I just needed something to keep busy…”

Vex beamed at the suddenly-flustered shop keep. “Well, we know one little girl in particular who would just adore this little fellow—she’s obsessed with owl bears. How much for the little cutie?”

For the first time since the entered the little shop, Vox Machina saw absolute uncertainty cross Antonia’s face as she fumbled for a fair price.

“Uh… three copper?”

This time, it was Vax’s turn to protest. “For a one-of-a-kind, hand-crafted piece?”

“It-it’s not magical, and it’s just yarn and some stuffing,” Antonia pointed out weakly, all her earlier confidence gone.

Vax shook his head. “But the time this would’ve taken to make—one silver at least,” he replied, ignoring the glare Vex was directing at him for this oddly-reversed negotiation.

The ranger turned to the dwarf, wondering if this was an intentional technique to drive up the price, but no—the embarrassment, hesitance and uncertainty were genuine, she could see. Clearly, Antonia was far more comfortable negotiating on her brother’s behalf than her won, and something about knowing that made Vex feel momentarily fond of the other girl—or at least, like she could understand her.

And, in the grand scheme of things, considering their current financial status, what was a silver piece? Velora would be happy with the gift, and perhaps a fledgling craftswoman would get a confidence boost.

“I-I guess…”

…

The town was hardly important, and the Marshstead siblings would likely never gain fame of any import, much less cross Vox Machina’s path again, but at least both parties felt, at their parting, as though a fair bargain had been reached without coming to the point of either hating or permanently angering the other.

And, really, what more can you ask from a retail transaction?

 (AN: Sorry for the length/focus on the dreaded shopping trip. But currently, too much of my time is swallowed by a retail job, and I wanted to redeem it a little���better a family-run enchanted item shop than a generic thrift store. And, no, I have no idea what a fair price is in D&D, I did the best I could with the research I had. But now I kinda want that pan to be a thing somewhere—or is it too ridiculous for a +1 magic (great club, re-skinned as a pan) that deals bonus 1d4 fire damage?)