Madame Quixotic

[Madame Quixotic]

Wyvern sat at his desk rummaging through the piles and stacks of paper that threatened to topple over and consume him if he were to jostle the desk just one tap in the wrong direction. The almost dragon, while reading through yet another application to the pen had come across the word courier, which had summoned an odd sensation within his lizardly mind. Almost as if he had forgotten something, or perhaps was supposed to remember something, or could it be there was something he was supposed to do?

 

Courier, hmmm, didn’t one stop by here a few weeks ago spouting about a very important missive? Perhaps a very important visitor? He couldn’t quite remember the specifics of what the messenger had told him, for at the time he had himself tail deep in an entrepreneur “opportunity” that required all of his attentions.

 

Digging through the papers on his desk, careful not to rip anything with his clawed hands, he finally found that which he sought. A neat scroll sealed with wax, (or perhaps that was a splotch of chewing gum, he couldn’t be entirely sure.) either way, the almost dragon broke the seal. Unrolling the scroll he silently read:

 

To the Mighty Elders of The Pen Castle~

 

The gods have smiled upon you, my friends, for you are about to receive an honor that is among the greatest in all the lands. The amazing, all knowing, all seeing, all telling Gypsy Seer Madame Quixotic is about to be in your midst! Most likely her reputation proceeds her, however, incase you are of the uninformed, then you are indeed in for a surprise for surely you must know that Madame Quixotic’s readings are NEVER wrong.

 

She is a busy woman in high demand, however, the mystical world that only she sees has instructed her not to pass by your castle without stopping to donate her time and services to your humble inhabitants. (For a small fee, of course. Even gypsy’s need to eat.) Of course, proper accommodations will need to be prepared in advance.

 

She’ll need her own private multi-roomed chambers. Being a Seer is an exhausting profession, therefore she will also need servants at her beck and call, and after all, having her as a guest is of the highest honor. You can expect her arrival early in the week of summer solstice. Below is a list of other accommodations that should be made:

 

Wyvern stopped reading there a flighty look of panic in his eyes. The week of Summer Solstice, but that starts in TWO DAYS! The lizard threw the paper back on his stack scurrying out of his office yelling to his almost secretary to hold his calls. His mind was focused on only two thoughts. First, how having Madame Quixotic at The Pen could benefit him, and Second how to inform the Elders of this news without admitting he had ignored the missive AND get her accommodations prepared all before she arrived.

 

To be continued, please don't sign your characters up yet. :0) Please see the OOC thread in this same forum.

Edited July 15, 2003 by Madame Quixotic

[Madame Quixotic]

Madame Quixotic rocked back and forth her wrinkled rolls swaying with the movement of the lavish traveling wagon she rode in. The interior was lavishly decorated with deep purple, red and gold hues. Many scarves hung lavishly around the walls and ceiling, filtering the sunlight giving the room a warm musky glow. Scattered among the wagon were various tell tale signs of the gypsy within. Crystal balls, tarot cards, tea leaves, random mystic bones, incense, and many various jars and scrolls. The place was not kept orderly, but neither was its mistress.

 

Her wagon was the second of three in her small caravan as it rolled through the front gates of The Pen Castle. The squeaky wheels of the wagons seemed to amplify off the protective stonewalls of the Courtyard gathering the attention of those who were casually lounging around taking in the warmth of the sun. The driver of the first wagon caught the attention of the ladies right away.

 

He was a slender and well-toned young human who drove shirtless and looked in his early twenties. He wore loose fitting black pants that were tied on by many colorful gypsy scarves. He also had a purple scarf tied around his head that accented the unique blue-violet shade of his eyes. The man was quite tan, indicating he probably traveled in this scanty attire quite often.

 

Pulling the steeds to a halt the caravan stopped in the middle of the courtyard, as every eye was on them. After tying his reigns taught he nimbly jumped from the wagon and immediately addressed the crowd causing some of them to jump. A soft “mmm, yummy.” Could be heard from somewhere in the back of the crowd. It couldn’t be known for sure, but most would assume the comment came from either Signe, the succubus eyeing a potential new victim, or Tzimfemme, the infamous naked mage.

 

“Greetings Ladies and gentlemen! I am Ansel.” The gypsy man said as he circled around the wagon, barefoot and wearing a broad smile that enhanced his already handsome features. Suddenly, the door of the first wagon, that he had been driving burst open and another gypsy man sprung from it landing next to his brother. An audible gasp followed by feminine sighs could be heard.

 

“…And I am Aromen.” His identical twin stated as joyously as his brothers mannerisms. The two men were virtually identical, save for the red scarf Aromen wore around his head rather than purple.

 

“…And WE,” they began in unison. “Are the Scantivia brothers!!!” At this announcement, one looked to the other with a wink before they both turned and sprang through a series of acrobatics landing again right in front of the crowd and bursting into song.

 

Ladies and Gentleman take your seats.

For you are in for quite a treat!

Our stay is sure to put a smile upon your face,

For there is no honor grander than Her Grace.

They took turns singing pieces of their rhyming song while dancing around and occasionally joining together for a line to add emphasis.

 

Who can tell you of nearing death or new life?

Who can predict your future comfort or strife?

Who can say if soon you’ll be tenderly held?

 

With this last question Aromen pulled an unsuspecting Ayshela away from the edge of the crowd and into a tender dipped embrace gazing into her eyes romantically causing her to blush a fiery red and giggle. After holding her dramatically for a moment, he then stood her up and spun her back into the crowd leaving her the envy of most every other girl.

 

Who can know if you’ll soon come into much geld?

 

Ansel reached into his pocket pulling out a handful of geld and tossing it at the feet of the crowd. A great lizard jumped upon a back table for a clearer view as the tinkling sound of the coins falling reached his ears. Meanwhile, a great high-pitched squeal could be heard from the middle of the crowd.

 

“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiny!” Soon tiny hands reached from between feet to grasp one of the coins causing the almost dragon to curse beneath his breath. Sometimes being small has its advantages. At this thought, Wyvern’s eyes widened as a greedy smile spread upon his toothy mouth. Pulling out a notepad he feverishly began scribbling notes for this latest brilliant scheme that had come to mind.

 

MADAME QUIXOTIC CAN!

 

They sang coming together again with a show of great acrobatics.

 

Forget your silly incantations.

This is the time for CELEBRATION!

Madame Q, she sees it all!

She’s told kings their reign would fall!

Advised the wisest when to stall,

Told generals not to run but crawl.

Her predictions are true, whether large or small!

 

So, don’t just stand there your jaws agape,

Straighten up, put a smile on your face!

 

Ansel looked at his brother as he sang out this last sing songy line.

 

“Uh, brother, that didn’t rhyme.”

 

Aromen shrugged unconcerned with a charming smile.

 

“Can’t get them every time.”

 

They exchanged another wink before finishing their song while backing up to stand at either side of the door of the middle carriage.

 

Some say she’s bizarre, and definitely exotic,

We introduce to you, Madame Quixotic!

 

As a final touch of pizzazz they pulled something from their pockets and threw them to the ground in front of the wagon with a loud POP! Pink smoke began billowing from where the objects landed and the crowd fell silent watching in curiosity. A slow creaking could be heard as the door opened behind the veil of smoke. The brothers extended their arms helping someone to the ground. As the smoke began to clear a woman stepped through the haze allowing her to be seen for the first time.

 

The crowd remained silent as the sight of Madame Quixotic was quite….shocking. The brothers, however immediately stepped forward loudly clapping their hands until the bystanders took the clue and clapped as well. The Seer smiled at the praise allowing time for the audience to drink her presence in.

 

The woman stood about 5 foot tall. Her hair was grey with age, yet tied up elaborately like that of a showgirl. Her skin was a yellowish and wrinkly in appearance. It hung off of her in saggy rolls as if clinging to her bones in one last-ditch effort to fight gravity. Her attire was as elaborate and gaudy as one would expect of a gypsy. She wore a white blouse with a frilly neckline that dipped into a deep V giving everyone who dared to look a glance at her sagging cleavage (Which probably stopped somewhere around her waist, not that anyone was brave enough to find out). She had many beaded necklaces strewn around her neck. Her multi-layered skirt was one of vibrant colors and swished along the ground hiding her feet from view. She, like the brothers also had colorful scarves adorned at her waist and hips in decoration.

 

Her bony and arthritis stricken hands supported a ring on every finger, some of which matched the countless bracelets decorating her wrists and arms. Her lips and cheeks were painted in hues of pink that were much more bright than most women had the nerve to wear. Her eyelids were colored as blue as the sky overtaking the blue of her eyes. Large hoops hung from her ears causing them to stretch down from too many years of heavy earrings.

 

As the applause died down she took a step forward and began spinning and swaying towards the group to the beat of music only she could hear. “Lovely, lovely.” She said in a bit of a raspy voice. “This will be a lovely place to stay. Although, it is lacking giraffes. I rather thought there would be more giraffes. Oh well, no bother.”

 

Her thoughts about giraffes were cut short as she came to stand before Orlan. Putting an arm around him she leaned in as if she might tell him some secret. Instead she only said, “My, aren’t YOU the sexy one.” She then licked the side of his face and goosed him before moving on leaving him violated and horrified.

 

The rest of the men quickly backed away as she approached opening a path in the crowd towards the main doors inside. Madame Quixotic would stop before people from time to time as she made her way towards the doors to mutter some odd phrase to them or pinch them exclaiming, “Oh such nice birthing hips on this one.” Or “My my, you could stand to lose a bit in the middle, now couldn’t you. Don’t want to scare away all these beautiful ladies!”

 

The Scantavia brothers followed close behind winking at the ladies and every once in a while asking, “How you doing?” They all seemed enraptured by their charm, and the seer, seemed to assume she had the same effect upon men.

 

Finally, just before reaching the main doors Peredhil, the kindly polite bard stepped out to introduce himself followed closely by his two overgrown Guinea Pig bodyguards. Peredhil bowed low and respectfully before her.

 

“Madame Quixotic, it is indeed our honor and pleasure to have you as a guest here at Pen Castle. If you’ll be so kind as to follow me, I’ll give you a tour and show you to your private quarters.” He said offering her his elbow.

 

She was momentarily distracted by batting at imaginary flies that she was sure were hovering around her. Once she was satisfied that she was fly free, she took his elbow and could be heard saying as they entered the castle. “Hmmm, yes, must be those giraffes drawing all those flies here.”

 

 

Whew...Okay, almost done. One more short post and I'll be ready for sign ups. :0) I've had a few people send me pm's letting me know their interested, but be sure to "make an appointment" on this thread after the next post!! Thanks for your interest and patience! *smiles*

[Madame Quixotic]

The news of Madame Quixotic’s arrival spread rampidly through the Castle. The conversations ranged from awed wonder to deep skepticism. The words “crack pot” and “scam” were even muttered from time to time. However, as interesting as the Seer was, many of the ladies preferred to talk about the Scantavia brothers, much to some of the men’s dismay.

 

“They’re just a little too fruity, if you ask me!” Mumbled one disgruntled fellow to another who nodded in agreement.

 

Many people would casually wander down the South corridor past her chambers in hope of seeing the interesting gypsy’s again. However, none of them were seen outside their chambers for several days, although, an elder from time to time would pay a visit, and servants were often seen scrambling in and out on orders.

 

Finally, one morning, the Pen members and guests woke up to find an announcement hung in the Cabaret room. It read:

 

Madame Quixotic will now accept appointments. If you choose to visit her, remember, it is not her hand that molds your future, she merely passes on the message of the Mystics.

 

Please sign your name below, and you will be summoned at the appropriate times. (Small donations appreciated at the time of your appointment.)

 

The rest of the parchment was lined ready for willing names to be written upon them.

 

 

OKAY! YAY! I'm finally ready for anyone who wishes to make an appointment with the all knowing all seeing and completely looney Madame Quixotic! Please just sign up on this thread and I'll be sure to supply your character with a proper and unique experience!!!

[Peredhil]

Elrond Peredhil slumped in his chair in exhaustion, simply overwhelmed by juggling too many responsibilities at once, and his inability to Rudely say no to any of the requesters.

 

Elrohir shuffled a deck of Dragons and Skulls card, wondering what had ever become of Cerulean's Demonette, and subtley not worrying or keeping an obvious eye on his father.

 

Guido and Nuncio sat the recessed seats of an arching window. While Nuncio made quiet comments to his brother (making sure Peredhil didn't hear his all too accurate assessments of various Pen people), Guido practiced spitting at exactly where each walker had been two seconds before.

 

Elladan simply sat, smiling at his father, and wondering if killing anyone would brighten his Dad's mood. He knew it would be a great stress reliever for himself. With a uncharacteristic sigh, he silently lamented the permanent portal to Archmage (anchored on the doorway of an old linen closet which was never used) opening on said linen closet once more.

 

Heh, Guido chortled, Dat crazy Gypsy dame ain't had a cust'mer yet. Not even Wyvern has hit her wagon! She must be broke AND nuts.

 

Nuncio elbowed him sharply and spoke loudly to cover his brother's gaffe, I'm sure she's very nice and will have all sorts of business soon! A welcome guest to the Pen, she is. No need to bother yourself on her account.

 

Rubbing his side, Guido looked at him as if he were the crazy one. Youse should be lucky I ain't sapped you on the noggin for elbows like that! Waddaya mean welcome guest? Don' bothered me at all. Her wagon'd prolly fall apart wit someone in it.

 

Nuncio covered his eyes and sighed at he heard Peredhil's chair creak at the words 'guest'. Elrohir swept up his cards and followed his father out the door.

Elladan, without apparently crossing the space between, was suddenly at the Guinea Pigs' side.

 

Dearest Bodyguards, he said brightly, (Both Pigs cowered back at his cheery tone and bright eyes) Now that your reminder of the Pen's Rude welcome to our guest has roused Elrond to action, perhaps you should join him?

 

Guido and Nuncio eyed the closing door, Elladan blocking the way, and then each other. Swallowing visibly they looked back at Elladan.

 

He was so still and focused on them, he apparently wasn't breathing.

 

Yeah/yes sir! trailed back up to Elladan's ears as they jumped out the window to await Peredhil's arrival. Alone for the moment, 'Dan's eyes flashed from their normal light-grey to obsidian-black. By the time he turned to pace out of the chamber, they were a clear cheerful grey again.

 

Peredhil paused for a moment in confusion at seeing Guido and Nuncio waiting for him downstairs, then continued toward the garish wagons, his Bodyguard limping after him.

Elrohir waited for his twin, knowing if when their father was running on duty instead of sleep, 'Dan would never be far away.

 

The tall grey-eyed elves started toward the wagons at Elrond climbed, his Bodyguards shed at the foot of the stairs.

 

As he entered the wagon, Nuncio rapped the back of Guido's head so hard his black fedora was knocked off.

 

Letting his spirit lap out in a wave of acceptance and friendship that brought an involuntary smile to Madame Quixotic's face as she looked up, Peredhil stood framed, a slender dark figure outlined in the doorway.

Entering, he finally spoke, sincere pleasure at seeing her warm in his eyes.

 

Madame, Thank you for the honour of being your first customer. Have you a fortune for me?

[Salinye]

I'm just adding Salinye to the list of people who are signing up to have their fortunes read. :0)

 

*grins still feeling like an evil puppeteer*

 

~Salinye

[Vigil StarGazer]

A Dark Mysterious Figure creeps into the caravan in the middle of the night... slow bypassing the strange array of multi-colored tents and other strange assortments. Do not mind the figure really, for lurking in the dark is just a force of habit and really means no harm. It is such a wonderful night for an evening stroll too.

 

Ofcourse now finding the right tent would cause a problem in the lack of any lights, but on that matter the Dark figure relied on Madame Quixotic. After all she "is" a gifted fortune teller so she should be able to read her own. Her foresight should have told her that A strange fella would sneak into tonight and pay her a visit... she would place her tent where it would have been easily stumbled onto those who seek her... and that a strange person would ask for a reading into his own future and would prompt him to come back again at 3:00 am tomorrow night where it would be the only available time he have in the near future.

 

... and indeed it has all came to past. the siloette of a figure walked right into a tent and came face to face with a rather short old women holding a crystal ball in one hand.

"..Yeh you scamp!" she yelled with her hoase voice. "If ye knows everything then why do bother coming to me?" She threw the crystal ball at the dark mysterious figure and threatening him to leave. "Come back tomorror for your forsaken appointment you freak, or I'll place the jinx on ye!"

 

and quickly the dark shadows fled out of the encampment... yet within the dark hood a smile appear on his pale face. Yes... indeed we shall away tomorror. He wouldn't miss this for anything else in the world. Something tells him that this appointment would be.... amusing. He doesn't need any glimsing into the future to see that.

[Salinye]

AN Important OOC Note. *grins*

 

Although I LOVE the rp sign ups I'm getting so far, I just want to remind you that Madame Q, has taken residence inside Pen Castle. She has been given her own chambers. *grins again*

 

HOWEVER...Don't change your stories. I'll work with them! I'm expecting you to work with mine, after all! I like the challenge!! BUT for future people signing up, Madame Q is residing within The Pen, as the story outlined, (although perhaps not too clearly. teehee

 

Thank you for your replies thus far! I'm enjoying them!

 

~Salinye

 

 

Sorry, I'd assumed she had her Guest Chambers, but conducted business out of her "Office" in the wagon. After all, she didn't apply to Wyvern for a Business Permit to conduct business out the Guest Chambers...

-Peredhil

 

Don't apologize!! I wasn't clear, and I love a good situational writing challenge! *smiles*

Edited July 19, 2003 by Salinye

[The Portrait of Zool]

Deep, deep in the Pen, is a secret room. There are many secret rooms in the Pen, and this is one of them. It is secret because nobody knows about it - that is why it is secret. In fact, one might say that what makes a room secret is the fact that no one else may possess knowledge of it's existance, thus knowledge of it's existance is not to be possessed by anyone - in fact the secret of this room is actually restricted by law - it is 'Secret™'.

 

But I digress.

 

The secret™ room was different because unlike the rest of the secret (just 'secret') rooms... something was different, NO, really, something had just changed, shattering with a miniscule movement the centuries old dust and dark stillness.

 

There it went again - a rattle - a rustle - a shudder in the dark... And then the two torchiers on the walls suddenly burst into flame, lighting the space.

 

Fairly roomy but not overly large, ringed by sweeping arches at the domed ceilling, it was sparsely furnished except for a table, a large stuffed chair next to the fireplace, a writing desk, and many, many bookshelves filled with books. After all, what else would be in a secret™ room in the Pen?

 

Oh, and there was one other thing. Hung ponderously above the dark cold fireplace was the rectangular shape of a huge painting. Draped over it was a large black cloth.

 

Something in one of the book cases rattled - a thick volume bound in red leather. It shuddered again, seemingly pulling itself out of it's centuries old resting place with each vibration, dust billowing resentfully. Then with a 'POP' the great tome flew off the shelf, went through the air and landed open on the writing desk. Pages flipped crazily as a red wisp jetted out like a stream. It flew around the room like a cyclone, parrying only momentarily in front of the shrouded painting, and then again over a crumpled dust covered orange shape lain over the back of the writing desk chair, before swooshing toward the bricked-in doorway, through which not a soul had journeyed for untold eons - until this moment...

 

* * * * * * * * * *

 

Ambling through the cabaret room was the oddest assemblage of costuming seen since madame Quixotic's arrival - though of course no one could rival her flair for color.

 

He walked as bold and careless as a person could going 'Clang! - Clunk - Clang! - Clunk...' The left shoe was an iron boot from the dungeon, the right foot was in a bucket.

 

His pants and shirt were part burlap, part bedsheet, part tunic, and several other odd cloth and leather scraps thrown in. His shoulders and arms were obscured by a large blanket wrapped up to the top of his head, which was further covered by a large floppy grass garden hat. No sign of skin was detectable in the mishapen bundle walking through the room.

 

'Clang! - Clunk - Clang! - Clunk.' He stopped short at Madame Quixotic's sign-up parchment. Reaching out a gauntletted fist, he clumsily grasped the handy quill and signed in a flourishing scrawl that spanned several of the lines. Returning the quill, he spun around on his iron boot, and headed back the way he had come.

 

'Clang! - Clunk - Clang! - Clunk...'

 

Wyvern, having watched the entire bizarre affair, rushed over to the parchment to examine the fresh ink laid thereon.

 

"ZOOL!" cried out Wyvern with such volume as to cause the costumed character to pause his course. He turned around uncertainly just as Wyvern rushed him in a bear hug.

 

"Oof!" said Wyvern with obvious joy in his crushing hug, "Zool, you feel so..." Actually, he wasn't sure what Zool felt like. If he didn't know better, he would have thought he was hugging a sack of laundry. Wyvern backed out of the hug, Zool's arms unwrapping like snakes. He didn't appear to actually have elbows... "...good grief... Good! You look, err.." ended Wyvern unsteadily as he looked down at what looked like a very mishapen Zool, which quickly filled out again with a pulsing undulation. "Uh, where have you been? It seems like ages since we've seen you..." continued Wyvern, rubbing his eyes and blinking several times.

 

"Uuuuh... Secret™..." said Zool.

 

"Egads man, what is wrong with your voice!? it sounds so hollow and distant! Are you okay?"

 

Just then Peredhil, Guido, Nuncio, and Rune, having overheard Wyvern's cry and rushed to the scene, pounced on the figure Wyvern was talking to.

 

Zool went down in the ensuing hug storm.

 

For a moment everyone was surprised to find themselves on the floor, but was even more surprised as they tried to disentangle themselves from the seemingly endless pile of cloth, blankets, sheets, and odd clothing. "Ouch!" said Nuncio, "What's dis iron boot doin' heah?"

 

Unnoticed in the flurry of hugs and swaddling toggery a red vapor skirted the mayhem, threaded the legs of the growing crowd and headed back out into the Pen castle. As he disapeared down the great hall, he thought,I'll have to be in better shape for my appointment, this simply won't do at all - not at all.

 

And so Zool set about finding a way to find his way back to corporeality...

[Falcon2001]

Caryon strode in, his bronze complexion vaguely out of place in the marble halls of the Mighty Pen. He strode towards Madame Quixotic's living spaces, so that he might file for a reading.

 

Seeing nobody around, he left a tiny machine sitting there, that would repeat "Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading." over and over again until it eventually ran down and died.

[Quincunx]

Tzimfemme hung upside down from the roof of an unoccupied wagon, probing at the center of the shutters, where a latch must be on the other side. She didn't care for the fortune teller--Rosemary's ravings were more than enough and, damn her further, often true. However, this wagon housed one of those delicious sidekicks, and if they weren't inside, there was plenty of time to install her super-hyper-technologically-advanced recording binoculars in a concealed corner.

 

Back in Tzimfemme's room, her nest of stolen underwear shuddered to an unseen cue and flipped over itself in its haste to roll out of the room. . .

 

*****

 

Rydia's hammock was dull with dust. She already knew her destiny.

 

*****

 

"You GOTTA see this!" Minta insisted, capering around Rosemary while flinging her scattered child-size tinkering tools into a toolbox. The vampire didn't look up from her anvil and only moved whatever limb was immediately in a tool's trajectory, beads' reflections glinting and rippling like water. Minta overshot the toolbox with a phillips head spinny-pin-antipindelator, which bounced off of the wall and gouged the mirror Rosemary had been engraving. The little necro screeched to an apologetic halt as Rosemary grafted the quincunx-mark into the new spirals.

 

Minta kept to one spot now but bounced up and down with every word, "Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn! The neato clockwork is gonna wind down if you don't hurry! What if the weird lady picks it up, then you're never gonna get to see it! An' Astralis said he wanted to see it too an' we just GOTTA get there first!"

 

"It's soulless?"

 

The hyper little girl considered that and replied, "Ummm. . .I think so."

 

"Then it cannot come to me. If I go to it, others will come and perhaps take it."

 

"But you GOTTA see it! Is a TALKING CLOCKWORK! It says 'Caryon Artificer'!"

 

Rosemary counted on her fingers as Minta relayed the message, then swept motes of silver dust from the surface of the mirror and pocketed it along with the stylus. "Guide me to it, then depart, little one. Two and this is seventeen and this is rare to be so late. Seven who follow unknowingly and ten beyond. . .we shall see what keeps them near to me." She held out a cold hand but Minta dodged it and ran out of the untidy room.

[Gyrfalcon]

The normally graceful ranger of the Pen stumbled down the corridor. The reason he was stumbling was due to the fact that Daryl was pushing the half-elf's legs from behind. Currently a fox, Daryl's pushing tended to fall below the knees, and unless Gyrfalcon stepped forward out of time with his current stride, he was likely to fall over backwards. Finally, Gyrfalcon stopped, whirled around, and picked up Daryl.

 

"I said I was going, Daryl, but I won't make it if I fall down a set of stairs."

 

Daryl grinned sheepishly, which is hard to do for a fox. "Yip yip yurr!" Oh come on, you know I won't push you around stairs!

 

Despite Daryl's assurances, Gyrfalcon tucked the fox under his arm and continued his now much more graceful trek to the Cabaret Room. Entering, he noticed that it was much busier then normal, and much of that business centered around a large sheet of paper on the wall. Quickly though, much of the activity resolved itself, turning out to be Peredhil, Guido, Nuncio and Rune, carrying what looked to be a mismatched collection of laundry and random objects.

 

"He could have at least picked up after himself." Guido muttered to Nuncio before grunting as his brother elbowed him sharply, casting a wary look at Gyrfalcon. Gyrfalcon smiled and nodded politely to the two Guinea Pig bodyguards, wondering at where they had collected such an impressive assortment of bruises, and who they were talking about.

 

Continuing onward, he found that the crowds had cleared, and Gyrfalcon was a bit surprised at how many people had signed up for readings. He himself wouldn't be here if Daryl hadn't pushed, prodded, dragged, wheedled, whined, and otherwise work his bushy tail off to bring him here. The half-elf had thought that more people at the Pen believed in the freedom to choose their fates, but perhaps he was wrong... or perhaps like Daryl, they were interested in listening to their fortune only for amusement's sake.

 

Setting Daryl down, Gyrfalcon dipped a nearby quill in its inkwell and started to sign his name when a small noise caught his attention. Looking at a nearby shelf, he saw a clockwork automaton feebly moving, almost run down. Bending down, the half-elf listened intently to its dying message. "Caryon Arti... Ssiary of Yaw... fortune..." it sputtered to a halt, but Gyrfalcon had caught enough of its message. Returning to the signup sheet, he neatly wrote "Caryon Artificer", before writing his own name on the line below. Daryl yipped at him impatiently, and Gyrfalcon looked down.

 

"You're kidding me, right?" the half-elf asked incredulously, but Daryl shook his head and yipped again.

 

"Oh, all right." Gyrfalcon said, picking Daryl up with one hand and placing the quill between Daryl's stubby 'fingers'. The fox concentrated and slowly scratched out his name in a fairly legible fashion, then impishly added a small sketch of a widely grinning fox head next to it.

 

Shaking his head, Daryl returned the quill to the ink well, then set Daryl down. "Happy now?" he asked the fox impatiently.

 

Daryl yipped his affirmation then races around Gyrfalcon before tagging the ranger with his nose, yipping his desire to go play a prank or two on those smarmy Scantivia brothers. Gyrfalcon shook his head. "No, Daryl, we are *not* going to go pull a prank on them... despite the fact it may be fun. I'm and Elder, and you're my guest, and our actions would reflect badly on the Pen as a whole if we did... however satisfying it may be personally."

 

The two continued down the corridor, still debating the merits of pulling a few pranks or not.

[Orlan]

Orlan stood staring into the giraffe's eyes, wondering what he did to deserve this. He was Elder of the Pen, he had been there since the begining, the very creation of the Pen. He had cheered Ozy on and helped him think up names for it. Now, he was taking care of a giraffe. Something was not right here, but Orlan was never one to make a fuss, or get all uptight.....or really go overly excited about anything. He lived longer that way.

 

The Sexy Elder held up his hand to the giraffe, his palm filled with fresh SuperMummy Giraffe Food, garaunteed to make your giraffe "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhnnnnnnnn stronger and healthier or I, The Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen, will give you no money back." The giraffe leaned down and took a bite of the food.

 

Orlan meanwhile wondered about this Madame Quixotic, and not just because he had to get himself a rabies shot after she licked him, but rather because he was always unsure about people who told fotrunes and futures. Especially Rosemary.....I mean REALLY especially Rosemary. It's hard enough to have a romantic romp in the sack or hay or kitchen or shower or cloud or garden or other places with Tzimfemme when you have Rosemary following you around spouting about how doom will find it's way into your life. Doom....DOOOM!!!!!

 

Though, Orlan thought, maybe this young chickadee will give better fortunes then Rosemary....and there's always fate-altering Tactical Nuclear Warhead that Orlan kept in his closet next to his triple locked and securitied lockbox that holds the only known picture of Tzimemme dressed. Speaking of Tzim, would she be looking for her fortune? Then Orlan remembered that there were new men to steal underwear from and he suddenly knew exactly where she was.

 

"Meh," Orlan said, shrugging, "Not like I have anything else to do today." With that he turned on his heel and set off to sign up for a reading. Behind him the giraffe was looking for someplace to hurl.

[Valdar and Astralis]

Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading.Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading.Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading.Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading.Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading.Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading.

"WILL SOMEONE SHUT THAT THING UP???"

Kenami's ears pivoted voilently in alarm as her form faded to near transparency before regaining some sembelance of solidness. Satisfied that her body would remain firmly in this plane and not ripped back to her hidey hole on Norrath, she strode to a convinently placed trophy cabinet and sliced a hole in the glass with one ear and a nail-screeching scratch.

"sorry. . ." she muttered.

Reaching into the cabinet, she selected the largest trophy in easy reach, and. . .

"It's a TALKING CLOCKWORK, WOW!" Astralis exclaimed in absolute delight, fingers already fumbling for his collapsed toolbox.

"Get out of my way, you Cazic cursed gnome, that thing's getting on my. . ."

"Calm DOWN, you two, or we'll ALL be distrupted and lose our place in line."

"Yaaay!! Looklook!" A fifth voice interjected. "I found it first!" Minta sqealed in joy.

"But I. . ." Astralis tried to add. The two gnomes immedetly set apon the device. . .

 

Valdar handed Kenami a set of earplugs.

 

 

"Why are we here anyway? there are plenty of Oracles on Norrath. Granted the Diaku's are war-torn and Miraguel is slightly mad, he can't be much worse than this one. And I could ask the diviners in Neriak too." Kenami earsignaled.

"Remember, you're no longer of Norrath, Kenami-much greater forces are at work in the void. If any can tell us where the dreamer is, she will. . .but we shall see." He replied in the same manner.

Kenami sighed, nodding her ears and pulled a bloodstained cloak about cold chain while the clockwork device droned on. . .

 

Caryon Artificer, gnomie power, tick, Caryon Artificer, gnomie power. . .

[Annael]

Having watched the arrival of Madame Quixotic and the Delicious Duo from her seat in the tree, Annael fluttered her wings with a little laugh. Wondering if it would be a waste of her time to see the fortune teller, for what could be told of the future of a fallen angel, Annael hopped lightly to the ground and started to make her way to the keep. Her butterflies flying close to her, kept flying in front of her nose and pulling lightly at her curly brown hair and black wings.

 

"What already?" Waving her hands infront of her nose, Annael sneezed and narrowed her eyes in frustration. "Obviously you want to tell me something, so out with it."

 

The colourful mass of butterflies swarmed together, hovering in the air for a moment before creating a sign in the sky. Annael raised an eyebrow at her pets and put her hands on her hips.

 

"What harm could there be in it? Maybe this will give us a sense of purpose, yes? Don't worry, I won't let anyone pull off your wings or anything. I just want to see what she could possibly have to say to me." The butterflies made another pattern in the air before Annael, causing her to laugh. "The Delicious Duo have nothing to do with it. Pfft, besides, aren't I allowed to look??" Shaking her head, Annael turned and continued on her way to the keep. Her black wings folded close behind her, her brown curls bouncing with her steps, it was easy to see that Annael had a purpose.

 

Entering the keep, Annael nodded at Gyrfalcon and Daryl, leaning down to scratch the werefox behind his left ear. Gyrfalcon smiled and motioned with his head to the crowd behind him. "Signing up for a reading, Annael?" "I didn't want to be left out of all the fun." With a wink, Annael continued towards the group to add her name to the list. Members turned and smiled, a little shocked to see Annael inside the keep. Realizing that it was her turn to sign up, Annael reached for the quill only to have it plucked out of her hand by some of her butterflies and lifted high above her head, tauntingly out of reach.

 

"Looks as though your butterflies don't want you to sign up," Orlan said with a grin. "Yes, so they've been trying to tell me the entire journey here." With a sigh, Annael reached behind her and plucked one of her own black feathers. Grimacing a little at the discomfort, Annael dipped the her feather in the ink well and signed her name with a graceful hand.

 

"Let us see what the great Madam Quixotic has to say about me. Guess it's a good thing that she tells the future, and not the past." Leaving Orlan puzzling over her words, Annael turned and walked from the room, her butterflies hurrying to keep up. Seeing something flutter to the floor, Orlan leaned down to pick up the feather that Annael had signed her name with. Wiping off the ink, Orlan looked from the feather, to the doors where the fallen angel had left through.

[Alaeha]

Alaeha wandered into the Cabaret room, taking a seat quickly, as she was still weary from her recent travels. Even tired as she was, though, she could see the long parchment hanging from the board, and the group of people around it. She forced herself back to her feet, curious as to what such a parchment could say.

 

"A Seeress?" She chuckled to herself. She'd heard of Madame Quixotic in the past... she'd most certainly heard of her. She'd told tales about the Madame on more than one occasion; usually when passing on a horror story to young children, to be told around a campfire, or when someone needed a good joke. Then her laughter died in her throat as she read the list of those who had signed up.

 

So Peredhil was being read... and Salinye as well. They had really meant it when they said that they wanted to show respect for the Seeress.

 

"I suppose I might as well get a reading as well." she sighed. "The worst she can say is that I'll be getting more of the usual... and I already knew that..."

 

Hastily scrawling her name on the bottom of the list, Alaeha went back to her seat and her brooding, setting the matter of the visitor to the side within her mind for a time in favor of more troubling matters.

[Ayshela]

Ayshela had nearly quit blushing by the time she wandered through the Cabaret Room and saw the crowd gathered around a lengthy parchment on the wall.

 

Hmm... i just bet i know what that is! she mumbled to herself, veering over to peek over the heads of the crowd gathered around it.

 

Goodness, the dear Madame is drawing quite an impressive crowd. From all i've heard she's never, ever, ever been wrong. i wonder...

 

Ayshela stood pondering for several moments as the crowd in front of her pushed through and signed the list and left. There were only a couple people left to hear her say,

 

Well, even if she predicts another outbreak of betrayal and pain, it would be nice to know where it's coming from this time.

 

With a quick step Ayshela hurried to the parchment, signed her name on to the bottom of the lengthy list, nodded absently to the startled pair who overheard her, and vanished out of doors.

[Kasmandre]

Kasmandre wandered aimlessly through the hallways of the Pen, thinking about anything but the arrival of the fortune teller. To say that she was a sore spot for him was an understatement as he was still limping from a rather vigorous pinch he'd recieved from the venerable Madame. Unfortunately, that pain kept bringing his thoughts back around to the Pen's newest guest and her offer of fortune tellings. The last time Kasmandre had had any sort of fortune or prophesey about himself, it had resulted in nothing but pain and suffering and it had almost lost him the woman he loved. And now that that very woman was so far away, and that he hadn't heard from her in so long and was worried sick...

 

These morose musings faded away as Kasmandre became aware of a small crowd in the passageway before him. It seemed that his wanderings had led him right to the location of Madame Quixotic's sign-up sheet. At first, Kasmandre was just going to pass by, but then he noticed exactly how many people had signed up already.

 

If nothing else, I'll have plenty of time to decide whether or not I want to see this fortune teller at all. And if not, I should have enough time to make myself "unavailable" for my appointment.

 

So, he quickly signed his name at the bottom of the list.

[Justin Silverblade]

"Well..."

 

Justin looked at the sign up sheet from across the room. It was crowded. Everyone who was anyone was signing up to have a reading (or at the least, catch a glimpse of those absolutely scrumptious morsels of men) by the infamous Madame Quixotic.

 

"There are only ever two things that inspired a good adventure. Only two things that in all the stories, motivated the greats...

 

"Money, and destiny."

 

Justin laughed to himself and hurried over to the sheet, signing his name. "She must know about one of the two. Besides, I wonder if those 'brothers' have any sisters..."

[Signe]

*the double-jointed succubus emerges from her silk-draped lair with a series of slaves racing to lie down in front of her so that her freshly-perfumed bare feet need never touch the floor, but rather step daintily upon the bare backs of her eager admirers. Approaching the list, the leather-clad demoness murmurs "how diverting" before reaching into her cleavage to pull out a pen and inscribe "Signe" on the list*

[Psimon]

As Madame Quixotic ponders between 'readings', a small envelope appears in her wrinkled hand. It is unique only in its coloration; one side being black, the other purest white.

 

The wizened seer slowly opens the note:

 

Lord Psimon

- Keeper of The Balance, Demi-god of Nature and The Mind

'The Glade'

1 Forest Way

GreatWood

 

Re: Audience request

 

Lord Psimon requests an audience with the Distinguished Seer, Madame Quixotic, at her earliest convenience.

 

Please reply by thought alone (Lord Psimon will hear your thought and attend the appointment offered)

 

Also, please take care to completely destroy this note once it has been fully read and understood.

 

Thank you in advance

 

Rhylae

Personal Secretary to Lord Psimon

 

Madame Quixotic shrugs her shoulders and considers a suitable time for her rendezvous with this mysterious 'Keeper of The Balance', Lord Psimon...

[smallscale_mind_games]

The amateur shapeshifter sat in the hall, scribbling violently in her notebook, completely oblivious to the recent arrivial of the gypsy seeress. She wondered idly what chance had brought so many of the Pen's members together in this one hall...and chattering so exitedly! Humming with irritation at the interruption, she reshaped her ears into those of a bat...but they went quickly back to normal. Not only was it too loud, but it was quite disconcerting to have a sound-map painted over things that she could actually see. She tried wolf ears this time, and found it much to her preference. She caught bits of conversation

"...never wrong..."

"Caryon Artificer, Emissary of Yawgmoth, requests a fortune reading"

"Delicious..."

"Money and destiny"

"Hmmm..." she pondered the meaning of this. Fortune readings? That might be fun...gnawing furiously on her pen, she stood up, and...dashed for a trash-can in which to spit a mouthful of ink. She was quite amazed to find it already full of giraffe puke. Turning away from the mess, she trotted over to the crowd, standing patiently in line, and grinning a mad, ink-blackened grin at innocent passers-by. Getting to the paper, she scratched uselessly at it with her pen, unable to get the ink to flow properly because of the recent rupturing of the cartridge. Sighing, she swiped Annael's feather from Orlan, dunked it into the back of her pen, and scrawled her name.

Elisa Cavalier

She then walked out, grumbling, "That was way too much work..." A wolf-tail twitches behind her.

[Wyvern]

Sighing underneath the light weight of Signe's feet and still clutching the geld he had gathered from the ground where the Scantivia brothers had passed through, Wyvern silently contemplates ways of breaking the news of Madame Quixotic's arrival to the Eldership ... Though he had seen the lavish entrance of the Scantivia brothers' and their caravans, the overgrown lizard had become distracted by the geld they had dropped and hadn't even noticed the venerable gypsy's entrance to the Pen. As far as the reptilian Elder was concerned, his fellow Pen members were still unaware that the fortune teller was coming to the Pen, and was thus quite nervous...

 

After Signe has signed her name on the list of appointments and has dismissed Wyvern from being the right-hand side of her foot rest, the overgrown lizard briefly gasps for breath as his collar becomes looser before searching the halls of the Pen for the nearest Elder to suck up to and break the news... Finding Orlan accompanied by two giraffes a few feet away from the Cabaret Room, Wyvern clears his throat of a few ashes and hisses:

 

"Hi there Orlan... nice day isn't it? Errr... I really like the whole giraffe effect. Definitely adds to your overall sexy sexiness, with the gals into yellow with black spots and all..."

 

"This isn't for my looks, Wyv..." grumbles Orlan while anxiously waiting for the next giraffe head to swoop down and eat out of his hand.

 

"Ah... I see..." mumbles Wyvern, hesitantly continuing after getting off to a bad start. "Listen, Orlan, you're an acceptant Elder... there's something I have to admit to you. I haven't been 100% responsible lately..."

 

Orlan laughs a bit before Wyvern continues.

 

"You see, my desk is one big towering mess, and occasionally I miss an important note or two... well, it turns out we're going to be having a very important guest visiting the Pen. Some gypsy chick... her name's Madame Quintessential, I believe."

 

Orlan rubs a hand over his forehead before responding:

 

"Where have you been, Wyv? Madame Quixotic arrived a few days ago, she's been staying in one of the Pen's Towers. And she's not a chick... more like a rooster crossbreeded with a dung beetle..."

 

Wyvern's eyes widen at this news and he quickly thanks Orlan before swiftly departing back towards the Cabaret Room in the hopes of taking advantage of Madame Quixotic's presence... Orlan turns towards the giraffes, who hadn't eaten from his hand throughout the course of his conversation with Wyv, only to see that the animals had found the pyramind-shaped boxes of Supermummy giraffe food and opened them with their teeth. Having already consumed three or four boxes each, the giraffes had now become bloated creatures that belched old scarub shells and occasionaly spewed shortlived sandstorms...

 

Arriving back in the Cabaret Room and gasping for breath, Wyvern rudely shoves through an enormous crowd of Pen members that had gathered there and makes his way to the sign up sheet only to see that it's temporarily full. Stuttering to himself uncontrollably and unable to wait the 5 minutes it takes for a new sign up sheet to be posted, the greedy reptile quickly throws on a four-leaf-clover T-shirt, two pink horseshoes, and a Mr. Bunnie Brand Lucky Rabbits Foot™ before barging the door to Madame Quixotic's room open and interrupting her in mid-prediction. Dropping to his scaly knees and begging to the venerable gypsy while trying to avoid growing queasy from her attire, the overgrown lizard pleas:

 

"I'm sorry, Madame Quickytoxic, I didn't have a chance to sign up on your sheet! Please forgive me, it was an accident! I was distracted by my precious geld! I would be forever gratefull if you were to read my current fortune... I haven't counted my geld in a long while, and thus am in a desperate need to know the exact amount of fortune I currently have!"

 

;-p

[Vlad]

Vlad had been sleeping when Madam Quixotic arrived.

He had been sleeping when everyone was signing up.

He had been sleeping when Wyvern created loads of noise.

 

But he woke up and looked around eventually. Realizing what was happening, Vlad grabbed the nearest Page and told him to go to the Cabaret Room. Upon arrival the Page was to sign Vlad up, and deliver these gold coins to Wyvern. Having muttered these words, Vlad tossed the page a few coins and promptly went back to sleep.

[troubled sleep]

A small figure stood in the doorframe observing the scene and looking for this 'sign-up sheet' to see the Seer Madame Quixotic. Of course, the sheet was no where to be found, at least not from this vantage point. So with a sigh she began to walk towards the crowd, hoping to stay unnoticed. Unfortunately, it was hardly possible for her to stay anonymous, mostly because behind her she was dragging a large and cumbersome cello case. And it certainly didn't help that the case was bright blue, covered in stickers bearing the names of various places she had recently visited, and that the case's wheels had a bad habit of rolling right where someone was currently resting his or her foot.

Finally, and after much squashing of other's toes, she saw someone adding what appeared to be their name to a long sheet of parchment and immediately started towards them.

 

"I'm not too late then?" she said, but apparently too softly because the signer didn't look up when she spoke. She considered speaking again, but with a flourish the other finished signing and put the sheet down on a table. After a brief look around to make sure no one was waiting in front of her, she produced a pen from somewhere in the pocket of her jacket and quietly scribbled:

 

Sam Carmichael rather belatedly requests the honor of a reading by the illustrious seer Madame Quixotic. It is hoped that the lateness of this request will not create conflict, as it couldn't be helped seeing as the aforementioned Sam Carmichael was away on extended vacation until very recently.

 

There, That should do. she thought, reading over her words again and hoping her handwriting wasn't too terrible. After laying the parchment back on the table and capping her pen she left the room just as silently as possible, musing on the possible futures this Madame Quixotic may see for her.

[Racouol]

"So have you thought about going to see that fortune teller? I am sure it would be amusing to hear what fate has instore for you"

 

Racouol looked up and glared at Murdock. "How dare you even suggest such a thing. You know that I do not like fortune tellers one bit." He then looked at the five cards in his hands. "Besides, if you are so interested in THIS fortune teller then go see her yourself." He then put two of the cards face down onto the table. "Give me two cards."

 

Murdock grabbed the deck next to him and passed out two cards. "Still are you not the least bit curious as to what your future holds? I mean would it hurt to see what you are destined for." He put the deck down and picked up his hand. Trying not to wince too badly he placed three cards face down onto the table and got himself three cards from the deck.

 

"Seeing as you are losing place your bet." Racouol said

 

"Now you are just dodging the subject." Murdock looked at his cards again. He then grabbed 200 geld from his small pile and placed it into the already large middle pile. "200. But really what do you have against fortune tellers anyways?" Murdock looked at Racouol for a little bit.

 

"See your 200, I will raise you 5000." Racouol grabbed the geld from his huge pile and placed it into the middle. "Lets just say that I have my reasons not to like fortune tellers. Anyways your future is never predetermind by fate, thus no one can ever guess what your future may hold. If anyones fate was predetermind then I would not be playing cards with you right now and winning myself a good portion of your geld."

 

Murdock winced as Racouol said the last part. "But Racouol, if fate does not exist then it will not do you any harm to just try it out. I hear that alot of the other people here are trying it out themselves." Murdock then pushed the rest of his pile into the center pile. "How about the person that wins this hand gets to see the fortune teller."

 

"Fine." Racouol then layed the cards onto the table. "Four eights. I hope that you enjoy the fortune Murdock."

 

"Not so fast." Murdock then layed his cards onto the table. "I got myself a Royal Streight Flush." Murdock just grinned at Racouol.

 

"You win. I will make an appointment with this fortune teller. But if she starts raving like a lunitic I will leave." Racouol then got up from his seat and walked to the door.

 

 

Five minutes later Racouol looked at his signeture at the bottom of the signup sheet.