West Of Where I Stood And All The Prints Left Behind That Led Me Here

A little recap of what happened to Cape! She lived a long life and did a lot and it's impossible to write it all down, so instead I simply tried to touch on a few things that happened to her and other PCs briefly.

The sound of a wooden cup hitting the floor somewhere in the house jolted his mind awake. The young adult shook his head and finished tying up the package before him: a loaf of bread, some vegetables, a large serving of mushrooms, and some meat. Meat wasn't the easiest to procure around this part of the city, but the recipes they followed made the most of what they had.

"Hurry up, Edward," called his mother from the front of the house.

"Coming!" He placed the package on top of a little tower he had to his right. He was about to leave when his eyes wandered towards a portrait near the spice rack and lingered there. It was a well-drawn representation of Chef Duke, the Beastkin bull that had come up with the menus served here in the Tri-Colored House. Duke's recipes always felt like they had some magic to them. It was up for discussion if this was literal but the results were delicious and nutritious.

He moved his dark brown hair from his eyes, grabbed the package tower, and took it to his mother. "You heard that too, right?" She asked as she glanced back at him. Her eyes focused on the clothes that covered each package, which was enough to let her know which belonged to whom and in a clear voice called them to pick them up. "Good, please make sure nothing broke. By Norr, I'm happy that she listened to me when I suggested changing all crystalware for wooden ones."

Edward stepped back as another person arrived with more packages to leave on the counter, ready to be given out. The Tri-Colored House was one of the strangest houses the young human had ever seen. From what he heard this used to be two houses bought in great disrepair, then joined into a sort of manor house and slowly remodeled and fixed. The whole first floor was now a kitchen, with some of the outer walls removed to make room for a large counter where people could come to ask for food, and a few tables inside a dining room for those who wanted to sit and eat.

On his way to the basement -where he was sure the cup had fallen- he stopped by another one of the portraits that decorated the house. Made by the same hand as Duke's, this one depicted Guildmaster Carwyn, head of the Assembly of the Rose. This portrait was prominently featured in the dining room for all who entered to see. The Tri-Colored House functioned in part as one of the outreach centers of the Yellow Buds, one of the branches of the Assembly, so it only made sense.

Currently, the room had most of its tables against the walls, as it was also where meetings could be held, packages received, or -as was the case yesterday- where one of the priests of Ameil came around to check on things and offer healing and guidance.

While not associated with the Holy Temple of Ameil, it was frequently visited by its priests. Guildmaster Carwyn had close ties to the church after all. This helped maintain the legitimacy of the Yellow Buds' outreaches and the church itself. Next to the Guildmaster's portrait hung his husband's, Amyntas, a prominent member of the Holy Church and Holy Arcane Order.

The young human allowed his mind to drift as he slowly made his way to the basement. The next drawing he found was one of East Town's parks. Back when it was drawn it wasn't much of a park, consisting mostly of space with a few patches of grass and some scrawny trees. East Town had changed for the better since then and the effects of the Assembly of the Rose were undeniable.

The guild had appeared out of nowhere and had slowly built up its reputation, extending its reach to deal with those who fell through the cracks of other organizations and society. In contrast with the Union, the League, or the Federation, which focused on merchants and trade, or the two churches, this guild worked mostly on outreach.

Around the corner was the next portrait and one he knew well: Ogdin, a half-orc, another prominent member of the Assembly, and the founder of the newer schools of East Town. Edward had attended one of those schools. The buildings, rooms, and desks, were all simple but were well kept. Most children of this side of town ended up going there, and over the years they had helped lift the overall education of the area. They didn't come cheap but thanks to funding from the Assembly they were free or inexpensive to attend.

Opposite to Ogdin's portrait was Tyler's, flanked by his adopted daughter, Regina the Unwavering, She of Golden Hair and The Resolve of a Mountain, The Unyielding Warrior of Light, the– well, Edward knew all of her titles; he was smitten and suffice to say that this was his favorite portrait. Next to her was another portrait of Tyler's younger brother, Chef Duke, depicted with Nathaniel, Carwyn's son. It was rumored that those three grew up together. Sometimes, Edward liked imagining being the fourth member of that group instead of the insipid little coyote pup that appeared in most of the Flavor Adventurer's depictions.

Tyler was no slouch, almost singlehandedly keeping the Assembly of the Rose afloat with his many businesses. If people were to be believed, he also had some ties to the Black Rose and other more unsavory people. Not that Edward paid any heed to that hearsay. The old bull dressed impeccably and had fine manners making a perfect couple with his husband Raven, and the few times that he had met Tyler, the bull had acted like a perfect gentleman. What else could be expected of Regina's father? Ha! Some even said he had contact with the Rogues. Jealousy could make people say some absurd things.

Among the absurdities that Edward had heard were things like that "shadow" version of the guild, the Black Rose. Every member of the Assembly was easily recognizable by the brooch they wore. Those of the Red Rose wore a red one and were the ones that dealt with politics, fighting for equality within the city of St. Almar– at the head of that branch was Guildmaster Carwyn. The Yellow Buds, the outreach branch, wore yellow rose buds as brooches, such as the ones Edward's family wore. Finally were the Rose Thorns, the ones that helped with security such as the tasseled lawgivers given to the Assembly– naturally, Regina was the head of this branch.

Black Roses, however? They were never mentioned outside of gossip circles. Some ventured to say that housing was better in East Town because the Black Roses practiced dark rituals that required sacrifices, leaving vacant homes. Others mentioned Wild Roses, who enchanted people and led them outside the city walls, never to be seen again.

The young man raised his hand to his brooch as he stood in front of Regina's portrait. Gossip never stopped in the city, and as he worked at the outreach he heard plenty of it. There was talk about the other organizations (like the Federation using assassins) but he was always skeptical. Norr and the Lawgivers were ever present, how could any of those things happen? And yet.

Assassination attempts had happened against the Assembly. The human stepped over to Marquee Rhys' portrait, Carwyn's brother-in-law, as he inched towards his destination. Rhys wasn't part of the Assembly of the Rose as far as he knew but was still close to his brother and the Guildmaster, and he had assisted with tactics when manpower and force were required. Rhys had ties to the Church of Norr and the Cult of Janus and focused on ridding the city of the presence of the cult of Loghul. His help, however, had proven invaluable when Ogdin, Tyler, and Carwyn were all attacked simultaneously to break the Assembly; they all had survived but had to step away from their positions for a time, and the Marquee's contacts with Church helped keep order while they recuperated.

Come to think of it, it was strange that those attacks had ever happened, Edward thought. For a group that devoted itself to the betterment of society, it got considerable hate. Those latest assassination attempts happened because of the Assembly's campaign and eventual success in changing the law to allow Beastkin to read and write.

Beastkin were a thorn in St. Almar's society. For the young man, it was natural to see dogs, tigers, mice, and other "animals" standing on two legs and walking around, but it was clear as day even now that that was not the case outside the east part of the city. Whenever Edward had to make a delivery elsewhere, the population of Beastkin dropped to almost nothing, especially in the more affluent parts of the city. As a human, he could fit anywhere he wanted, yet Beastkin associates or friends who came with him around the city had to wear an earring to be allowed to move about. Society was changing ever so slowly, especially when the leaders were long-lived elves. Despite that, his family owed much to the Beastkin who owned the house where he currently stood.

The Tri-Colored House was the property of a wolf who went by Clarke and a bi-colored painted cape dog called Cape. They made an odd couple and the more the young man learned about them the stranger they got.

For starters, from the few other painted dogs he'd seen, Cape was supposed to have three colors, but in the last decade or so had exclusively lost all black patches of fur, leaving only brown and white. The now octogenarian dog was also a cultist of the Laughing God Waha, in defiance of the Church of Ameil and Norr. Stranger still was that despite this being well known she was not imprisoned, though people suspected she had been since she went missing for years at a time, reappearing at her house suddenly as if nothing had happened.

Clarke was more or less a normal Beastkin wolf. His penetrating gaze unnerved Edward a little due to his missing left eye, but the wolf was always affable. He was a happy individual, and the crazy old wolf seemed to get happier every day. Unlike almost everyone, he enjoyed getting old. Edward was still very young when the wolf threw a party when he noticed his muzzle was graying. It lasted for days and at times the wolf could barely contain the tears, but through it all continued playing his jury-rigged-looking lute.

The canine bard couple lived in the Tri-Colored House. The outreach utilized the whole first floor and part of the second for storage while the rest of the upper floor and the basement still functioned as the couple's house and were mostly private. At times commotion could be heard, and it was Edward's job to investigate nothing was going on. It could be a burglar, or even worse, a burglar that Cape had caught and was playing with. It had happened before.

It was the bards who twenty years ago had given Edward's family employment and lodging when they were in desperate need. The house back then was largely vacant and it was Edward's mother who suggested opening the first floor for the outreach. "I came to bring order to this lawless house, praise Norr." She would say at times, and in truth, it was she who had built up this outreach to what it had become. Over the years both she and Cape had their theological arguments which at times ran hot, but both women respected one another enough to end them amicably– or laughing in Cape's case, much to the frustration of his mother. Edward and his father stood by the sidelines ready to doge and pick up the occasionally thrown apple, and Clarke kept mum.

Finally at the end of the hallway and in front of one of the entrances to the basement, Edward stopped one more time to think on one of the oddest facts of the portraits he had passed by: they were all drawn by Cape.

Cape was a chronic doodler, he knew as much after having found her drawings all over the place, but the portraits were different: they all carried a similar style which could mean that they were all made similarly. He had only seen one as a work in progress- the one of Chef Duke that hung in the kitchen- and what stood out was that she'd had Duke in front of her while she drew. That could mean she knew all of the people she had portraits of. Other than the ones he'd stopped by, there were also portraits of other important people from around the city, like other guild masters, members of the Arcane Order, and even (though those were not public) portraits of both the High Priests of Norr (before one of them disappeared) and, if he was not mistaken, that of the Governor.

While the last one was fanciful at best, he had seen most people in the portraits show up at the Tri-Colored House at some point. The young man couldn't for the life of him connect the dots as to how she could know all of them. She wasn't part of any guild that he knew of, nor the churches, nor the Holy Arcane Order, and yet. Part of her house had even turned into a Yellow Buds outreach but she distinctively didn't wear the yellow brooch. Sometimes she'd pick up a rose of any color and pin it to her clothes but that hardly meant anything.

He'd also noticed that prominent visitors had come more often after Cape's latest incident. It'd been around ten years ago after her last years-long disappearance with Clarke. They had reappeared in the house with Cape laughing and howling in pain at the same time, both of her legs bloodied and mauled almost beyond recognition. Clarke had been incredibly anxious while she, apart from the agonizing pain, managed to laugh and tell everyone that the cards had been right and that she owed that old coyote in the farmlands a big favor.

Despite getting magical healing of various sorts her recuperation was slow. She could walk again now but was no longer spry and needed a cane to help her around; not surprising given she was eighty-something years old.

She'd spent most of her time healing down where Edward headed, the basement studio. There she would spend long hours working on something with Clarke, writing furiously pages upon pages. It took her about two years to finish the first tome of many they'd write between the two. It was then that the visits picked up. The young man never knew what they were discussing with the visitors, but he knew they were talking about what was being written. The two canines were bards, so that they had stories to write wasn't surprising. What was strange was the diversity of people who came by: from all walks of life, from all different fields, and sometimes Ogdin came with the city's librarian who brought old, hefty tomes and discussed things for hours on end.

Apart from the visitors, the bards never discussed their project with everyone. Edward had never peeked at the manuscripts even when he was handed them to be burnt. Yes, it still boggled Edward's mind that they had burned every single book the two had written. After they were happy with it they'd give it to him to be taken upstairs to be burnt. Why? They wouldn't tell. He didn't have a creative bone in his body and couldn't fathom an explanation. Maybe creative types simply hated their works. It couldn't be that though, he'd sat to listen to Cape's stories before, and she was a gifted storyteller who conjured fantastical imagery simply through the power of her spoken words.

The young man grabbed a mop in case something had spilled and opened the door to the basement. When he reached the bottom of the stairs he saw the old wolf and the old painted dog in a silent discussion within the candlelit room, wildly gesticulating. One of the reasons he had never known what work transpired down here was because Clarke was mute. The same injury that had taken his left eye had also taken part of his throat and rendered him silent. He could write and listen well, but to talk he used Field sign language, something Edward had never been able to wrap his head around. At the moment, the two canids had a heated and silent discussion as their hands and arms made sign after sign in a flurry of movements.

"There you are!" said Cape. "I told you that tipping the cup was easier than screaming for him or me to get up. Don't worry Edward, the cup was dry. I believe the soot should be ready by now, right? Could you bring it to me?" The old painted dog stood up with difficulty and handed Edward the wooden cup she had dropped on purpose. The young man collected it and ran upstairs. The soot was indeed ready- he had gathered it a few days ago. Said soot came from, strangely enough, the books that the couple wrote and burnt in a specially made chimney.

What came afterward always left Edward a little queasy. "You're here, it'll only be this last time," Cape said to the wolf when Edward returned with the bottle of soot. The young man stepped back a respectful distance as she opened the little bottle carefully, set it on the table, and with a small knife slit her wrist directly over the opening. Blood poured into it, and when it was half full the wolf quickly reached and healed her. He grabbed the bottle and finished filling it with another liquid, then the two shared a few signs. Edward squinted at the painted dog– had… had her nose always been white?

"Well then, that's that," said Cape, clapping her hands with finality. "It has been tiring… I'll admit, but the show must go on," Cape sniffled, "one last story, our best one, I promise. Praise–" Edward didn't stay to hear what else was said. He felt like he was intruding into something private and went back upstairs silently. Burning books and collecting the soot? Perhaps there was more to this ritual of theirs, something related to the painted dog's cult, or maybe even simply something creatives did. He couldn't decide.

The next days had a frenzy of visits apart from the usual number the outreach received, and even construction workers filed in to leave wood and work on some kind of preparations. Edward had seen this type of work before every time Cape decided she wanted to give a presentation and tell stories. You could say she was strange, a cultist, an enigma even, but the one thing everyone agreed on was her ability to put people into a trance with the stories she told. He wasn't sure if it was actual magic but it felt like it.

He knew it was time when people started entering the basement and reappearing outside seemingly without coming out: the Way was open.

Waha's Way, a space with which the Trickster God "blessed" the city now and again was a small area where his followers could gather, trade, have fun, and party. Waha's Dis-Order was free to use the Way as there was to be no fighting or bloodshed within it– enforced by the god himself, presumably. In any case, you needed to know when and where the Way was going to appear since it was always random. Cape had a little cheat however as one of the doors in her basement always led to the Way, something she and those who knew about it kept secret.

Edward wasn't a follower of the Trickster God (nor of any god, to his parent's disappointment) but he still enjoyed the rare treat that was the Way. Several merchants only appeared there and the food and general ambiance were festive. This time around it had appeared in one of the few East Town's parks, the one depicted in one of Cape's drawings. With its various grasses, shrubs, and fruit trees it was a far cry from what it had been. Although it was early in the morning when he arrived, he saw a few merchants setting up their wares and some other visitors were already singing. Surprisingly, Cape's stage was nearly finished, and the old dog and wolf overlooked the finishing touches.

Clarke caught sight of Edward and signaled him to follow him back into the house. Between them, they hauled Cape's favorite loveseat up to the stage, along with a little cabinet secured tightly with lock and chain. It was almost half of the afternoon when preparations finished, and by then there were plenty of people already conducting business or simply hanging around. A few had already gotten a spot in front of the painted dog's stage.

The young man had gotten himself a snack and was stationed underneath the shade of a tree when Cape climbed onto the stage. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she waved her hands in front of her and her voice boomed across the gathering. Everyone's ears perked up when she began calling people over for the story of a lifetime. One whole lifetime, she repeated, although who's or what's she would not say, to learn that they would have to listen to the story. People began gathering and everyone who entered the Way were told about the performance, and most walked to the region around the stage. It seemed to Edward that the Way knew what would happen since the area it had appeared in was perfect for a large gathering.

"Waves have crashed upon the shores of the West Continent since time immemorial," Cape finally began, "what has every kiss of the wind upon the water murmured to the depths? What reply has the sea breeze brought inland that the sea wants the land to remember? Water, ever-changing, trying to heal the scars the land held onto. With the help of many, I've traveled and gathered the whispers of the wind, trying to piece together that story– and today I can finally tell it to you: A Mantle Roar, the Rouse of a Cape, a Curtain Call. For you, 'West Of Where I Stood And All The Prints Left Behind That Led Me Here'."

She turned to the little cabinet and took one of the little soot bottles from it, drank it, and began her story.

The tale that followed was an experience for everyone that differed from person to person, but in all cases, everyone who heard it felt like they had heard something of tremendous importance. For five days and a half without stop the dog painted a story of the West continent, from the very beginning to quite a ways into the future. Edward saw people who cried, laughed, and sang with her as she wove the story, joining in song from time to time as well.

Most people didn't stay for the entirety of the tale but there was always a large gathering. Edward was shocked even some high-profile visitors like Guildmaster Carwyin had made it there. He sat at a table with Amyntas, Nathaniel, and Regina, and had the story not been as entrancing Edward would've probably tried to get her autograph. To the surprise of the gathering, Chef Duke made an appearance in a fully decked-out stand, courtesy of Tyler who sat with his husband at a table next to Carwyn's. While he didn't see Rhys, Edward heard that the marquee had been stationed outside the entrance to the Way to prevent any undue disturbances. Of the prominent portraits in the Tri-Colored house, the one who was there from beginning to end was Ogdin, occupying two tables by himself and the city's librarian as they took notes and cross-referenced books they had brought. Underneath their table, the young man caught a glimpse of a small canine pup playing with papers as if it were writing.

The young man had work to do and left various times but came back as quickly as he could. At about the middle of the third day, he saw that Cape looked exhausted, still trudging on with a smile. The air vibrated with energy and everyone could feel it. Something was happening but what was anybody's guess. Scholars would later attribute this to the alcohol that freely flowed, but those who were there knew different: this was actual magic. Magic of untold proportions.

Around the end of the third day, Clarke took to the stage alongside Cape. Without missing a beat she handed him one of the vials and they clinked in a merry toast; the crowd followed suit with their drinks and a roar of applause as they welcomed the second bard. Edward took a mighty swing of the tastiest mead he had ever drunk till then. From where he stood, the painted dog looked purposeful and happy, while the old wolf had a faint smile and his ears were lowered to a half mast, but hope showed through in the barest wag of his tail. In unison with the crowd they downed their respective vials and a second later came a sound the young man thought he would never hear– Clark's singing voice! Amidst tears he joined Cape's narration and from then on it was a dialogue between narrative, music, singing, and a little dancing, and the story soared as the two bards joined forces and brought it to new heights and magic flowered.

Days, months, and years later, Edward would try to remember the story that he heard during those days but couldn't– in fact, no one could. People from the Arcane Order said that it was the repercussion of the use of unsanctioned magic, others than Norr himself stepped in to stop all the nonsense, others still that it was a prank from the Trickster, and yet others that it was a blessing from Holus. Some, clearly affected by whatever had happened there, ventured to say they saw Waha and Holus playing cards at one point at a nearby table, but no one heeded them any attention.

Little by little, something that Edward suspected was confirmed: everyone who heard the story forgot everything but a fragment of the whole. Everyone remembered something different, and as soon as that became known it was a race to see who could assemble the whole story back together. When it was rediscovered that it was the story of the West continent authorities tried to stop the efforts, but strangely enough desisted from doing so after a while. The whole city was buzzing with the tale for a time and everyone said they had a part. A few people said that they had the most important part and would only sell what they had to tell. Perhaps that's why the Lawgivers stopped worrying- they knew this chaos would amount to nothing, as expected from a follower of the Patchwork Dog.

By the end there were five or four versions of the story, all differing in some key parts, all claiming to be the true one. But who could say? What came of it was a complete story of the West continent with some fanciful portions of it forecasting what was to come. The gossip that reached the young man's ears was that the few historians in the city also noticed that parts were… slightly off. Both right and wrong. Or maybe they were right? Nobody could say.

Only the bards could have confirmed what was true or not, Edward was sure of that. Cape, who by the end had recovered all the black of her fur and looked properly like a painted dog, and Clarke, the wolf who sang and howled as if he had been waiting for this moment for a lifetime. But they were gone, there was no sign of either Cape or Clarke as they, after effusive parting words to end their tale, vanished, their names branded into history as sunrise announced the 2nd of Dawnstar.