00 - Freaks and Lyres

The seaport of Torta is a cesspool. Only the sea breeze keeps the stench of the city at a bearable level. Tenements in various stages of disrepair crowd the narrow trash-clogged streets. The few stone buildings huddle together for safety in the city center surrounded on all sides by a hodgepodge of hovels leaning in for support.

Southwest of the city, across the river, a traveling carnival has set up camp. But this early in afternoon the freaks and performers stream into town to spend some coin before the night when they will seek to earn it all back from the local marks. Not far from the hubbub at the river gate a halfwit orc in bedraggled clothes hauls a filthy white mountain goat along on a tether. The orc and his prize push their way towards the weekend bazaar.

Gimlet the goblin looks at his mark and rubs his hands together as he decides on an approach. He is the first goblin to see this customer, and by the rules of the goblin trader guild, he gets first crack at becoming the orc's broker and personal agent in the bedlam of the market. Gimlet decides on a direct approach before another goblin tries to claim the mark. Pushing his way in front of the orc he smiles his most ingratiating smile. "Greetings, friend, I'm Gimlet. You look in need of a broker for the goblin market."

The orc staggers to a halt and nods once at the goblin. "Yuh" Gimlet moves on with his spiel immediately "Well the merchants will eat you alive unless you can haggle like a goblin. Are you hoping to sell this goat?" The orc grunts once again while using his pinky to mine his ear for wax even as the goat strains to munch a passing lady's hem. Gimlet moves on before the orc can start checking other orifices for nuggets to snack upon. "How much did you want for this animal?"

The orc wrinkles up its face in concentration then finally holds out one hand five fingers up. "Five coins? five coins? For that mangy cur? You would be lucky to get three." At this the orc leaves the goblin behind for one frantic moment. "Wait, wait! I know a Dwarven joint that specializes in stewed goat. They may give a premium for live goat. How about I go make you a deal? I can give three coins right now and two more once I make the sale?" The orc angrily shakes his head once again holding out his hand with five fingers up.

"Gah, you bankrupt me! You do. Ok, ok. but only because I am sweet on a girl there and this will give me a chance to see her. Here are your coins you black hearted scoundrel!" The goblin empties his coin purse of four coins and then takes off his shoe to shake out one last coin into his meager pile.

"Normally we only pay after a trade is completed but you look like you have no patience for bargaining. Here is your blood money, give me the damned goat already!" The orc's face wrinkles up as he attempts to count to five. After his second try the goblin screams in frustration before he takes the coins and lays each coin on a finger. "Look. One, two, three, four, five. You got your damned asking price, now give me the goat and get out of here before someone forces us to pay the trade-master his fifth."

The orc looks down at the coins uncertainly but the goblin pulls the tether away while gently pushing him towards the nearest bar. "Look, must be tired and hungry. Why don't you go have yourself a drink and get some food. Your master won't mind if you do. Everyone needs to eat. Just make sure to pay no more than one coin, ok? You like beer, right?" The orc, now invigorated, nods and heads towards the bar, the goat forgotten.

The goblin silently offers a prayer to the Traveler for the mark. He hopes the orc eats well, because his master is likely to beat him to death for selling the goat so cheaply.

Gimlet skips off toward's Rolf's place to brag to Gerta and beg a date. He doesn't notice the goat transform into a nondescript human with dirty white hair who then slips off the collar and merges with the crowd going the other way. Hugh knows his partner M.F. headed back to the river gate the moment the goblin was out of sight.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Hugh, conspicuous among all the goblins, orcs, and kobolds pulls up his hood to cover his face. The crowd around would have once been called monster races. Even on his way over he only passed a smattering of dwarves, halflings, and a single elvin aristocrat. These days the streets are dominated by orc, goblin, and seafolk with all manner of gills or scales.

Ever since the plague, the world has belonged to the "lesser races." Most humans perished. Hugh's family only survived by shifting to animal form and staying that way for a generation. Even now he is uncomfortable in human form. The anonymity of fur is preferable to being the only human in a room. In the carnival Hugh performs as a trained animal. Carnie life is a rough, but it is better than the streets, and with M.F. running the occasional con at least Hugh eats well these days.

At river gate Hugh pushes his way into the Lonely flagon to see M.F. already has a table covered with mutton and ale. Unfortunately it is in the center of the room.

"Hey M.F., you know I prefer something less central."

In answer MF waves a hunk of mutton at the stage where Celeste has set up. "Oh", Hugh hunkers down digging into his platter. Celeste is an Elvin storyteller with a magic voice and a seemingly endless supply of stories. She is also part of the circus.

Celeste isn't a typical elf. Most elves live in orderly cities where the elvin obsession with cleanliness protects them from the plague. Those elves that survive outside sterile elvin cities often show mixed heritage. Celeste's orcish blood is betrayed by a prominent wart on her nose and her rotund build. But most importantly like her parents she had the orcish immunity to the black death.

At this point Celeste noticed them and her smile lit up the room. She came over and leaned down to whisper in M.F.'s ear. "Hey it looks like your little kobold friend is getting raked over the the coals by a goblin banker. Maybe you can give him some moral support just to get the muscle to back off?"

M.F. looked across the room and saw she was right. The little brown wizard was wedged into a booth by one of his many creditors and a fish-headed sorcerer that M.F. both knew and loathed.

The seafolk sorcerer was a racist piece of shit who never let anyone forget Seafolk were direct descendants of Besmira. Besmira championed the rise of the various oppressed races during the great plague. It was even said that her blessing had given immunity to the monster races and any that shared their blood. So there were very few "monsters" that did not wear Besmira's black symbol.

As a follower of Besmira, MF felt it was his duty to teach Fishface manners by making him miserable whenever he could. MF grabbed one of the pitchers of ale from his table and poured a vial of purple liquid into it before making is way over towards where Dax was uncomfortably sandwiched between the banker and his muscle. M.F. also palmed a shot glass from a passing serving-girl's tray. He plunked the shot before Dax and placed the pitcher on the table before moving on. Just another server in a room full of people.

Fishface had poured and quaffed a glass by the time MF got back to his seat where a goat footed dwarf and a seafolk knife juggler had joined Hugh. The drug MF had put in the drink wouldn't hurt anyone but it would make the pitcher hit harder than an entire keg. The banker and his "muscle" would be just another passed out pair of drunks before the night was through.

If she said that aloud the Professor would be dismissive. "How will you identify new species if you have not studied all the works other more accomplished scholars have already completed?" But she knew that wasn't the real reason the elves focused on books and the meta-analysis of others' works. The real reason was that they were afraid. Here in the city, in this pristine university they were safe from the plague. But unlike the others, her Orcish blood protected her. Unlike them she could leave.

Nothing really was keeping her here, well except a lack of opportunity. Her attention was drawn back to class when Delaphen, who had left last year, stamped into the lecture. Like her he had never fit in. His family had webbed toes showing strong seafolk blood. He had left after an argument about a creature in the syllabus. Delaphen had referred to an unapproved encyclopedia from his family's collection, and when the professor had denounced them as lesser works, Delaphen had swore he would return with proof that there was more to the facts than the writings in the officially sanctioned collection.

Delaphen had returned with a specimen and was trying to get the professor to acknowledge it, and the class was in chaos. But Celeste was more fascinated by the furry man in the door behind Delaphen. He was dressed like a mountain guide, but while he had the face of a dwarf, he had hair like a sheep on his arms and legs, and if she wasn't mistaken his feet suggested he might be some sort of satyr. "Now this specimen is far more interesting than whatever Delaphen had in the box by the podium. She was sure the Fae codex had nothing on Hirsute Dwarven-satyrs. She found herself catching the eye of the guide and giving a warm smile. When the dwarf nodded back, she wondered if this was a good chance for her to start a field study...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Celeste shook off her reverie and found she had unconsciously found the same Dwarf in the crowd. Yucca had guided her when she first started field study. But after her funding ran out, they both had taken to working for the circus. It still let her travel and see new things, and she was finally putting all those dry lectures to use. She used them as a factual basis for her tales. Meanwhile Yucca had joined as a high wire act. Turns out they were not Satyr feet. But mountain goat feet could climb and balance on the most improbable of places. So while he was a great guide, he was also a pretty good balancing act.

As Celeste drew in the crowd with a story dripping with fae magic, a few more circus performers had joined MF and Hugh at their table. Yucca was sitting quietly letting the others do most of the talking, which was good since he was sitting with Grimwald, the company's boorish knife-thrower. A bit later they were joined by Dax, who had left his somnolent companions behind. "Thanks again, I hope we move on soon because I am still short on funds..."

Unknown to the others, Dax's statement was the understatement of the century. Dax was deeply in debt to almost all the money lenders in the area. He was the prince of the brown kobolds and had taken on a great many loans for his tribe to finish their newest warrens. But tragedy had struck and his people were locked out of their own warrens and it was his fault. Somehow he had misplaced his people's keystone and the traps and magics were all keyed to the damn thing. Without the keystone the caverns were a death trap and his people could not finish the construction.

Even worst the caverns were cut into bedrock and as anyone knows, the mad god Sin lived in such places, and if incense wasn't burnt the next time they entered the warren might be filled with Eldritch horrors. But none of this did he show to his companions. Dax had joined the circus to stay ahead of his clan's creditors and to scout a new location for his people. If the new warrens were lost, his people would need another new place to live soon. Their current warrens were deep enough that the madness was beginning to seep in faster than incense could be burnt. Which was why the new caverns had been commissioned.

Dax's mind churned with these thoughts, but he still had no solutions. The best he could do was continue to run from his problems and hope for an opportunity to make things better. The little kobold spent enough time to be polite, then left the inn to head back to the wagons. He was far too restless for sitting and socializing, and if it hadn't been for MF he would probably be in a world of pain. As Dax approached the caravan he heard The Songbird's incredible voice. The Songbird was a lady kept in a magical box. You never saw her except for her head. She never ate nor spoke, but she sang the most amazing music. To be honest she was the reason the circus existed. Every note she sang got stuck in your head and had you humming for days. She was the draw. The other performers were just the fixings, the expected props. But juggling, animal taming, illusions, these things didn't bring in the crowds. Songbird did. Her voice floated across the city at night, and people would come investigate and once they came they would spend money on other attractions. And after they left they would be humming for days.

Circus McGurkus was a one act show. Dax settled down to listen as he often did. There was magic in Songbird's ever-changing melody, and Dax had come up with a way to use it to divine the future. As tonight showed it didn't warn of every peril, but it did help him stay ahead of disaster. But tonight the visions were all bad portents. Falling through darkness, A broken chain, Burning out like a star, Losing his magic... He shied away from all of them, but then Yucca the Woolly dwarf came back to camp and seemed startled to see Dax. Yucca fidgeted awkwardly, kicking at the ground with his goat-like hooves. Satyr in all but magic. "That's odd", thought Dax, but then he was swept away in a vision so intense it blinded him.

Once again Dax was falling, in his vision he burned like an angel falling from the sky. But this time arms reached up and caught him. As arms caught him both in the vision and outside, suddenly new possibilities unfolded, including a place for his people. "The dwarf is the key," muttered the kobold trying to grasp the chain of events. But as the Dwarf eased him down, the vision vanished completely, leaving Dax with only premonitions of his doom. "What?" asked Yucca. "It was just a vision, you are the key. Now what brings you back to camp?" "Oh I was just going to practice some before the show tonight. Are you sure you are all right? You passed out there for a moment." "It was a strong vision, you have a decision to make and you are the key to everything." Yucca looked a bit worried, "I think you should lie down. You are babbling." Dax decided that was a good idea and the Dwarf was left alone in the clearing.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Yucca looked again at the Songbird who was still singing. She sang all night and slept each day. Yucca pulled out his rat Edgar and spoke to him for a moment. "You hear that Edgar? Maybe I am the key!" He looked around for a second to make sure he was alone and walked over the box which contained The Songbird. He tentatively poked the box and pushed it this way and that before muttering "damned wizard" and slipping off in the darkness. Yucca knew what it was like to be imprisoned and he could not bear to see it happening to another living being.

It turns out that there would be no performance that night. A mercenary company arrived just before dusk. They had banners with the Beast rampant, and the foreman ordered camp be struck. It was a hard decision. The company had been counting on the night's take to fill their wallets before leaving, but these mercenaries were dangerous and anyone in the business knew the first rule of the business "Know when to move on".

The circus packed up the tents and were out of sight by midnight. It was hard to travel at night but all the performers were used to the sudden departures. Dax at least was grateful this got him away from his creditors for a while. After three days they came to the fork to Oldfort, but this time they went to Dwarfholm first. Yucca had been talking about how his tribe was larger than the outpost at Oldfort and given how tight everyone's finances were they needed a decent site. It was a day out of the way, but there would be enough food, barely.

The route was hilly as Yucca hailed from the highest peaks, and the going was tough for the wagons. But on arrival the caravan found an odd reception. The dwarves gathered but didn't come close or speak much. Yucca assured everyone his tribe was just taciturn and that they would enjoy a good show as much as the next group. They would just be quiet in their appreciation. And it was true, while the audience was eerily quiet, the dwarves had ample coin and soon the caravan was flush with funds.

Dax had made a habit of sticking near Yucca so he was there the night Songbird was released. Yucca had become obsessed with freeing Songbird ever since he heard Dax's prophecy. Prophecies have a way of becoming self-fulfilling even when misunderstood. It was what made them so dangerous. Here in this land of his people he finally tried it. "I am the key" he muttered as he pried at the box using the tools of his people. Dax watched from the shadows as a visage of claws and sickness and ritual scars unfolded from the magical container. The body was impossible. Parts were cloaked in shadows and the shadow had eyes and teeth. The box that had chained Songbird had curtailed her powers. And kept her from hearing her god. But freed she could feel the Plague god and had her Voice back.

"Sin, I hear you. I am back!" Songbird opened her mouth and out spilled words of power. Unlike her earlier songs this song had true compulsion, this song held madness. But though she was freed from the box, she was still weak and had to feed. Yucca stood frozen in terror and Dax was held as well. The madness in her words made their hands seek to tear out their own eyes to let her pour herself in. It was madness but it made sense. In pain lay madness and through pain you let the mad god into your soul. The same god that had brought the plague. The same one that caused the deep earth to bubble forth horrors if incense was not burned. This was a Voice of Sin.

Maybe it was just the madness, but both Dax and Yucca saw Songbird tear in half, with teeth filling the tear. As she gaped open to swallow Yucca whole, Grimwald happened to come investigating the noise. In a blink of an eye he drew and threw one of his many knives at the monstrosity about to swallow Yucca whole. This action saved Yucca but Grimwald's life was forfeit. Songbird changed in a blink of the eye and there were suddenly teeth in the shadows and a pile of meat where Grimwald had stood.

The spell broken Yucca yelled wordlessly. But Songbird already had her food. She needed to go somewhere and gain strength. Her eyes became wings and tore through nearby walls as she shot away clutching her prize. But she also stayed looking deeply into Yucca's eyes. "What do you swear oaths by." "My father's beard!" Yucca cried, horrified as his own voice betrayed him. "Where can I find it?" whispered her silken tones. Yucca bit his own tongue to deny her and she smiled at the blood. "I see it in your mind. Your people keep a tapestry in your great hall, with your history. It is braided from your ancestor's beards and has taken generations to make. It is irreplaceable to your kind and it will be mine this night. I will not forget that it was you who freed me. May Sin's blessing be upon you, may no rock or steel ever hold you nor shall you bear to see another bound. It shall be your blessing and curse."

Yucca's lips bubbling with blood he cried "it wasn't supposed to be this way!" But he was crying to an empty room. For she had already left a while before. Dax had seen it all too, every last scale-raising detail. The madness that was not.

This was clearly a beast of power. Possibly an avatar of chaos and it was now free in the world. Yet in chaos lay opportunity that Dax never would have considered before. The kobold slipped away unseen. There would be questions enough but he sensed the prophecy was not yet complete. Change was coming.

That night they heard news of a terrible theft from the dwarven halls. As outsiders, suspicion would naturally fall on them, and there had been a death and a terrible theft from the caravan as well.

The Songbird had been stolen, and Grimwald killed in the process. Still the circus packed up and left quickly. It would look suspicious but better suspicion than imprisonment or death at false charges.

The circus would make its way to the old ruined city Oldfort. After the plague many cities were overgrown by nature. Oldfort was one of these. Once a metropolis it was now a tiny village housed entirely in the fort that was once a single keep in the old city. The fort was well made and the village was welcoming, but it was always creepy passing through the ruins of all those other buildings to get to Oldfort. So many places stood abandoned or were overrun with vegetation. It was a reminder of how much had been lost in the last plague, the last time a mad prophet walked the lands. The caravan was somber. Without Songbird the caravan was doomed to a slow death.

Celeste suggested that a group from the circus go look for Songbird or at least find a new draw. Magical creatures of any type would expand the mysterious bestiary and serve as an attraction. So it was decided a small group would go gather creatures to expand the circus all the while looking for signs of Songbird.

Next - 01 - Ying sing like anything