[Mature] The Velvet Goose - For What Ails You [Completed]

[The Unreliable Narrator]

A tavern lies in Fellsgard, just inside the southern trade district. It rests as the last building along the wall that separates the industrious southern and destitute eastern districts. The wooden boards that line the building front are whitewashed but worn, marred with the dust and grit of the years. Two large windows look out towards the gatehouse, but the dense glass allows only blurred glimpses inside the establishment. Above the door, aging painted letters proclaims the tavern's name in flowing script arched over a rendition of a grey goose.

A pair of stout oak doors with iron banding keep out the cold, rain, and beggars from the east. Patrons passing beyond the threshold, are greeted with the heady scent of mulled wine and roasting meats. Great spits rest over roaring fires along the center of the room and the raised stage occupies the final third of the central aisle. There is no bar, only an endless number of wenches and swains taking orders and delivering food to patrons. The patrons themselves sit spread among long wood tables and benches that fill the remaining floor space.

The upstairs of the tavern is an open balcony with semi-secluded booths set against the walls and clears views of the food and performances below. To use these booths, patrons must pay a deposit, to cover any skipped tabs or damaged tables.

As opposed to the ever-popular Mac's, regular visitors to the Velvet Goose tender towards the rougher sorts of people. The available food is filling, though never particularly inspired. Prices are low enough that poorer merchants and scheming ruffians can afford a decent meal and drink, but not so low that the street urchins frequent the place. This makes it a prime location for the seedier sort of deals without attracting the attention of the local watch commander. Long-time patrons, or those willing to pay, will find many additional back alley entrances and exits to the Velvet Goose. However, any folks who break the peace will often be left beaten and stripped in those same alleys.

Stage performances at the Velvet Goose are often undiscovered bards or other unknowns. There's no guarantee of quality and instruments have been broken by riled patrons tossing mugs. Folks looking for a rough time, or those who want a place to disappear with a drink, look no further than the Velvet Goose.

Note: This thread is designed for those seeking a rougher encounter, or less than legal contact. It is not an entirely unfriendly place, but keep your hand close to your purse.

[Katarya Frost]

"You're going where?!" Cora asked, her eyes wide with incredulity.

Katarya had had a trying day, and she sighed as she swung her cloak around her shoulders. "The Goose, Cora. It's the only place that might be able to get me what I need."

It had all started when a woman had entered the shop. Katarya had took one look at the girl, draped in a shawl, her dress was a crimson red, or at least a shabbier version should be. Along with her stockings and heels that were just slightly higher than a 'respectable woman' would wear, Katarya deduced she might be in a certain profession ... one that was not very well regarded by 'decent folk'. "I need to talk to you," she said, her eyes shifting this way and that."

Kat nodded. "Follow me."

***

This wasn't the first case she had encountered during her time at Lilian's, but it was the first case where she was going to be front and centre.

"I can give you something to help with the pain. The bleeding should stop in due time, though I would advise you against any ... well, if can't do your job for another six weeks, at the minimum." Kat said, after motioning for her to put her dress back on, and washing her hands in lemon water.

"I can't go six weeks without working!" The girl explained. "I'll get thrown out onto the street."

Kat was not unsympathetic, but she had to be honest. "There's no way around it. I am sorry, really I am. In your ... line for work, you need to be careful. This will only happen again if not."

The pale girl pulled her shawl about her shoulders. "I heard that there's a tonic, or something. Makes it so you don't get pregnant .."

"I have nothing like that here," Kat said, immediately. "And it would be extremely difficult, not to mention illegal, to get what would be needed to make such a thing."

"But if you could, would you?" The girl grasped Kat's hand as the young witch shook her head. "You're supposed to help people like us! How am I meant to help people like me!"

"Please don't think that I don't want to help you, and girls int he same situation; but I just don't have access to the things ..."

"The Goose." The girl said, quickly. "Anything you want, you can get it from there."

Katarya raised a brow. "The Goose? That's a tavern for drunken sailors and untalented musicians."

The girl gave a short, humourless laugh. "The Goose is much more than that, you know."

***

It had taken much persuading to convince Cora she Kat was capable of taking care of herself, and that she had no need to worry. But as she hurried down the street, there was an undeniable flutter in her stomach. For a start, she was a well-dressed young woman ... perhaps she should have, maybe 'shabbied' herself up a bit? Katarya had no idea.

Pushed through the door, and was greeted by the smell of ... well, there was no shortage of scents to pick from, but it was the performance of a somewhat 'vocally-challenged' bard that was the real assault on her senses. 'That man needs a new hobby,' she thought to herself, as she moved to the bar.

As she passed the tables she wound through, hushed conversations would fall silent, and the eyes of those talking all regarded her with either curiosity or out-right suspicion. Had she been made of softer stuff, she might have turned tail and ran back home.

Instead she lifted her head a little higher, and looked for someone who worked here. After spying a man dropping two tankards off at a table, she approached.. "Excuse me," she said to the person. "I'd like to request a seat ... upstairs, if I may." She glanced around a bit. What was she supposed to say? 'Could you please tell me who I can speak to to acquire illegal substances at reasonable prices?'! She stepped a little closer and spoke in a low voice. "I am also interested in adding some additional stock to my herb collection ... purely medicinal, of course. Mayhaps you might be able to point me in the right direction?" She took his hand and as stealthily as she could (she was new at all this after all. "If it's not too much trouble."

[The Unreliable Narrator]

Tommy was having a good day so far. He'd gotten his regular tips, and even managed to snag the occasional kiss from some cuter patrons. He'd just tossed down his last tankards for the day when a woman's words caught his attention. He turned, his face immediately splitting into a grin that only grew, as she put coin in his palm. She was cute, and clearly had no idea what she was doing. Mentally he shrugged, he was off work now anyways. No reason not to have a little fun, and if his luck held, he'd start the evening off getting exhausted. "You're a cute one. Come with me lovie," he said as he led her upstairs to an empty booth near the wide carpeted hallway.

Once the woman had sat, he leaned on the table edge. He spoke to her in a soft voice, forcing her to lean in if she wanted to hear him. "So, I'm not supposed to trick new customers, but you started this by asking me to go to a room with you," he said as he patted her coin giving hand and waggled how eyebrows. "You're cute enough that I'd take the order, but I imagine you're looking for something else." Tommy nodded his head towards the kitchen door downstairs as he continued, "I'll get the cook, but maybe don't run off as soon as you've ordered eh?" With that, the swain made his way downstairs and disappeared behind a heavy swinging door.

[Katarya Frost]

Kat rolled her eyes at the man's back. 'Lovie? Oh, if you only knew ... But she followed, obediently, taking the stairs and wondering what she might be getting herself into it. 'Ah well, I'm here now. No point looking back!

She took the offered seat, not taking off her cloak (she might want to leave in a hurry, depending on what would happen next). And listened as the man spoke. When he called her cute, she gave him a smile, as if flattered, but her teeth were clenched, and the desire to stick a boot in a certainly part of the man's body was almost overwhelming. "You have my thanks. She said. "I am sure I will be most pleased with my order."

Katarya wondered at his words: "I imagine you're looking for something else ..." What did he mean? Though she wasn't sure what he was thinking, she had a feeling he was intuitive than his creepy demeanour suggested. "I'm not planning on going anyway, for the moment. Not until I've at least had some red wine?" She raised a brow, hoping the hint wouldn't go unnoticed. In a situation like this, a woman needed wine ... strong wine!

And so, she waited.

[The Unreliable Narrator]

Tommy frowned to himself as he went down the stairs. Based on the clenched jaw he'd not get much tonight. He caught the Cook's attention and set out a bottle of wine for the man before he headed to change and go home. Maybe Becky would be willing again, milkmaids always seemed to enjoy the hay.

⁂

The Cook was a large barrel-chested man, the sort you'd expect to be moving cargo or beating off beggars in the east district. Despite this, he navigated the room with the same precision as the wait staff.

He softly settled into the booth across from Katarya and put down a bottle of wine and two cups. His muscled skin was swarthy and his bald head gleamed with a light sheen of sweat. Beneath a heavily stained chef's linens his body was covered in tattoos. "You made poor Tommy sad. He'll forget it in an hour though I imagine," he said. His voice was soft but powerful, with a scratchy undertone like rocks sat in his throat that could likely be the scar tissue on the right of his neck.

"You're an alchie or something, and need the dangerous stuff," he said as he poured the wine with long and thin heavily stained fingers. "Normally I'd charge you the fee to get on the books, but I'm needing walker's respite for some of the gals. If you can get that for me tomorrow, I'll get you anything you need." The Cook took a slow sip of his wine and watched the woman in front of him. He dealt with all sorts of dangerous folk, but the ones he least liked were the quiet ones. They'd just as likely hug you as stick your gut and leave you in an alley. The question was, what sort was this new woman.

[Katarya Frost]

Kat took the wine, sipped it, and gave a smile. "Poor Tommy," she said, without any remorse whatsoever. "I'm sure his right hand will oblige him should some poor girl have the misfortune on ... missing out, of his charms." She gave the man a quick scan as the drank. The wine was good, but the company was a little intimidating, even to someone as arrogant as her.

Show no fear. She said, to herself, as she listened to him. The scars and tattoos were either bravado, or it meant this was not a man to play games with ... at least not too many. "I can manage some of that, pretty easily." She said, referring to the medicine he requested. "And I hope that if my concoction proves adequate, you'll help me procure some items that ... frowned upon, by the authorities."

Kat wasn't about to go as far as to say what she needed right this instant. She'd grant his request, of course. She would have done it anyway had he requested it from the shop. People may say she had an heart made of ice, but she never turned down the chance to help working women, knowing what they had to endure from some of the less ... tactful men that they might encounter. "If you find my services to be good enough, perhaps we could talk of a more permanent relationship ... in the future, of course." She realised she was going to have to sing for her supper, but she had expected nothing less. "I'll have a batch made up by the end of the day tomorrow, and will pop in and drop it off. If your ... gals," she resisted at rolling her eyes at the term. "Or yourself, require any other treatment; my door is always open."

She drained her cup, smiling a little. It wasn't bad. She had expected something bitter in a place with a reputation like The Goose's.

[The Unreliable Narrator]

The Cook chuckled when she disparaged Tommy's charm. That wasn't an uncommon response for the lasses he didn't beguile. The fact that she was almost immediately talkative, if still nervous, was a good sign though. Assuming she ever returned with the medicine, they'd likely have a business relationship. Then she said 'gals' and the way her voice changed made anger boil in his gut. He put his cup down with a solid thunk as she finished speaking. "Don't think just cause of Tommy the folks working here are toys," he growled. He closed his eyes and took a breath, marshaling his expression before continuing, "They need the damn stuff because the body ain't built to run through these crowds day in and out. You'd do well to treat them kindly. You'll find you get more with honey here than you do vinegar and coin."

He fished in his pocket and removed a small wooden token. On it was a rendition a mint sprig. "Take this, and show it when you come back. Maybe chat with the off-duty crew next time your around. Learn the rules. Unless you enjoy offering boys a tumble." With that, the Cook rose from the table and slipped off through the crowd to disappear.

[Katarya Frost]

Kat's heart beat a little quicker in her chest as the man grew angry. He was, after all, a very large man. "That tone'll get you into trouble one day, young lady." Her grandmother had once told her, when she had been particularly sarcastic in a reply. "I suggest you mind your manners."

Wise words, indeed!

Taking the token, Katarya decided not to risk upsetting the man who might be able to help her, and so accepted the token with a nod. "I will be sure to do just that. Thank you for your time." As she watched the man leave, she glanced down at the sight below. Her judgemental nature was a haphazard thing; she would happily give aid to street urchins and street walkers! But she did have a habit of being a little ... what had Cora once called her? Oh yes, "a bitch""

Pulling her cloak around her, she got to her feet, stepped down the stairs, ignoring the stares from a few who stopped drinking either to leer, or with just curiosity. Did she really stand out so much? Mentally, she shrugged. She was hardly about to start dressing herself in rags just to appease the type of men who didn't appreciate a strong willed woman!

***

That night, Kat sat with some warm tea, flicking through the Book of Shadows that had been in her family for generations. It made for frustrating work! The men and women who had used this book had put no notion into organising it in any way. They had simply written in the large book, whatever they felt like, or whatever spell or ritual they had devised. On one page might be a simple candle charm, and the next was all about summoning the ghosts of those that had died ... something well beyond her level!

She shut the book carefully (despite wanting to throw the maddening - yet very precious - thing out of the window), and decided that, if she couldn't sleep, she might as well get on with The Cook's order.

Making up herbs was a calming task; the crushing, the boiling, the measuring ... she even hummed as she worked (though would strenuously deny it, if anyone ever heard her)!

When everything was complete, she put a few candles under the pot, so that they the herbs would simmer and not boil, allowing their essence into the purified water, which she could divide into ampules. And since she realised she might have (well, definitely) offended The Cook, she took some time to add to her order.

***

"I want something else!" The heavily pregnant woman said, scowling. She placed a bottle onto the counter and folded her arms. "It's like drinking sour milk!"

Katarya glanced at the time; she had wanted to close a little earlier today, to get back to The Goose, but fate had decided that she'd to be plagued with a string of visitors, each one more insufferable than the last. She looked back to the unhappy customer. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Patmore, but it's the best thing for you and baby. I can give you something a little more pleasant, but it won't be as effective." She tapped the top of the bottle. "If a medicine tastes bad, it means it's doing it's job."

"But it's foul!" Mrs. Patmore, countered. "I already feel sick as a sailor as it is, and now you want me to drink this hideous concoction."

Kat held in a sigh of frustration. "I'll give you some ginger to brew into tea. Add a little honey and ...

"I said, I want something different!" The older woman glanced around the shop. "This place is going to the dogs, now that Lilian is dead."

Katarya's eyes darkened at that. 'Oh, you insufferable cow ...' "Very well," she said, with a smile. "I think I have just the trick; you can even try it before you take it home, just to be sure."

Mrs. Patmore raised her imperiously, as if she had won the battle. "Just be quick about it."

Kat nodded and turned to her shelves. Picking out a corked bottle of purified water and a mug for it, she slipped a hand into the pocket in her dress, took out a very small vial, from which she poured two tiny drops of the strange, milky substance. She gave the two liquids a stir with a small spoon then handed turned, smiling pleasantly. "Here you go, Mrs. Patmore." She said, sweetly. "Less than a mouthful. See if you find this to be any better."

The older woman still had a very pinched expression on her face, and accepted the mug. After a sniff, she drank the small amount of water, mixed in with Katarya's speciality; a memory potion. Setting it back down, she cocked her head. "Yes ..., that is actually quite nice." She admitted, though her eyes looked a little glassy, and her tone was much less pointed.

Kat didn't hide her grin. "I'm so pleased you think so." She took the mug away, and pushed the original bottle - the one Mrs. Patmore had insisted on never drinking again - back in front of her. "Now, here's what you'll do." Kat said, slowly. "You'll take back your bottle, have a spoonful three times a day until your poor child is expelled from your fat, rude body, and you will do so gratefully ... also, you'll be kinder to your maid." Kat stood up straight. "Understood?"

Mrs. Patmore took the bottle and nodded, not saying a word.

Kat smiled. "Now, get out of my shop."

***

As she entered The Goose, now with a bag in hand, Katarya Frost decided she would watch her tongue ... not that she was planning on becoming pliable or drop to a curtsy every time someone spoke ... but she would at least try and be a little more tactful.

After a moment of picking out the staff from the customers, she approached a man who was moving away from a table. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm here with a requested delivery for The Cook ... but I wondered if I might talk to somebody free .. off-duty, that is. I just have a few questions. The Cook said it would be okay." She added that in, quickly, showing the token for verification.

[The Unreliable Narrator]

The swain responded to her request with a frown before he saw the token. He immediately recognized the 'cruel cutie who's breaking hearts' that Tommy complained of all morning. "Of course alchie. Head up and take the booth against the window. Wine again?" he asked as he headed off towards the kitchen with dirty dishes in his arms.

Several minutes passed before anyone came to see Katarya. When someone did arrive it was a bubbly looking girl with flowers weaved into blonde plaits that were just beginning to come apart. Her skin was pale and her eyes a brilliant green. When she spoke it was with a pleasant sweetness that seemed genuine. "Hello there lovie," she said as she set down a bottle of house wine and shimmied into the booth. "I'm Marcy and Bill said you were looking to learn your way."

[Katarya Frost]

Kat undid her cloak and nodded to the man. "Wine would very much be appreciated." She said, and meaning it. It had been a long day, and she rarely got to actually go anywhere. This was the closest thing to a social event she had had since the death of her grandmother, and it will still business.

As a rule, Katarya had nothing but disdain for 'bubbly' girls, as it usually equated to 'stupid', but this young woman had to be taken in context; she had been charged with showing the witch the ways things were done in the Goose, and she doubted some dumb, empty headed idiot would be so tasked. "Good evening, Marcy." She said, her eyes flitting to the wine, with a little hint of longing. "I'm Katarya, although my friends call me 'Kat' ... or at least they would, if I had any friends." She gave the girl a small grin. "And thank you for taking time to see me. I fear I may have offended The Cook during my last visit. I have some things here," she said patting her bag. "That I hope will smooth things over, but I also fear I may be a little out of my depth in this place. I would be most grateful for a little inside-knowledge. If you don't mind."

That was probably the nicest Katarya Frost had ever been to a stranger. "Does he just go by the name 'Cook', or is there something else I should be calling him. He seems like he does a lot more than put food in people's belly's!