After fleeing the fuff'nar-infested cellar of the Opera House, Aaron took a few weeks before finally catching up with Piper, after learning that the mongrel was trying to deal with a vermite problem at a Kavi-run bakery in the Bazaar.

Judging by the two screaming Kavis clutching each other on a tabletop and the handful of vermites skittering madly across the floor in front of the main counter, this has not been one of Piper's most successful jobs.

Aaron looks around quickly, and makes a note to himself to tell Jasmine not to stock the danish-basket from this particular bakery in the future. "Ah, excuse me," the Lapi says, trying to catch the attention of one of the workers behind the counter.

"Misseur! I think I have your basement cleared now! The repellant sent them running and… " A white Gallah with a caramel colored splotch on the right side of his face and two caramel colored floppy ears jogs out of the back pantry. "Er … but I see that you have already noticed this. I must have missed one of the exit holes. Un moment, bons Messieurs. I will handle this."

The Lapi's efforts to find a non-screaming worker are, unfortunately, in vain. A scan of the area behind the counter determines that the two on the tabletop are the only ones in the front room of the shop, though there may be others in the back room. A vermite hops onto the counter top and squeaks quizzically at the rabbit.

Glaring at the vermite, Aaron says, "I meant one of the Kavis, not … never mind, I see Piper is here. I'll just wait." Leaning against the counter, the apothecary finally realizes that talking to a vermite in front of two of the workers probably makes him look a bit odd. "How about that weather, eh?" he says to the pair on the counter.

"Misseur Lapin, would you mind holding the front door open for minute? I must chase these brutes out of the shop," Piper barks as he pulls a stoppered bottle from his belt and splashes a little against the doorway he recently exited from.

One of the two Kavis scrambles up the length of the other, larger Kavi's body, trying to perch on his shoulders as a vermite jumps onto the chair next to their table. The larger Kavi teeters precariously on top of the table as it wobbles beneath their combined efforts. Neither man looks particularly talkative at the moment.

Aaron nods, and opens the door of the bakery. Hopefully, there will a mob of hungry Vykarins outside, or at least nobody that will recognize him.

Piper snatches up a baking pan and a wooden spoon from one of the shelves and begins to bang on it, trying to herd the vermites out the door.

The vermite on the counter squeaks in a tone that almost seems indignant, but it hops off and takes a desultory look around before ambling towards the open door. The three vermites near the table with the Kavis scurry with more energy, one of them circling the leg of a chair while the other two bolt for the door.

Aaron shuffles back a step or two, not wanting the hairy little monsters to run over his sandals in their exodus.

Not wishing to add to the clamor at the table lest he topple the Kavis, the dog sets his banging tools down and draws an arrow from his quiver and notches his bow. "Misseurs, remain where you are standing. I'll deal with your retardataire." And with that he lets the arrow fly.

The arrow slices through the pest circling the chair leg, pinning it to the floor. It squeaks pitifully, two legs kicking, before it stops. The last remaining vermite pauses on its sluggish way out to scoop part of a donut from the floor, then ambles outside with the pastry in its mouth. The two bakery workers do not seem noticeably calmer for the absence of their persecutors, however. The large one waves his hands around at his fellow trying to perch on his head, and makes muffled noises that sound like, "Get off!"

Letting the door close after the last vermite, Aaron shudders slightly at the smell of blood from the skewered one. "Well … uh … done, Master Piper," he says.

"You are clear now, misseurs. Everything is fine." The Gallah mutt carefully plucks his arrow from the floor and wraps the corpse in a rag before it bleeds on the floor too much. "Merci, Lapin de Monsieur, although not as well done as I had hoped." He shrugs. "C'est la vie."

The smaller bakery worker pauses in his screaming to chitter, twisting about on top of his fellow's torso. He scans the room for signs of more animals, and relaxes after the third look around and not spotting any. At this point he suddenly realizes where he is and scrambles off his companion, looking sheepish. "Sorry, boss," he mutters, sliding down to sit on the edge of the tabletop, while the other Kavi glares at him.

"Lavie?" Aaron asks, not really understanding Gallisian. "I think there's a public one a few doors down. But first, I was wondering if you would be interested in taking on a commission to trap a fuff'nar for me?"

The larger Kavi harumphs, and brushes off his apron brusquely. "Ahem. Thank you," he says to the Gallisian, in a tone that would convey more dignity were he not still standing on a wobbly tabletop. "How much do we owe you?"

"More work? I would be happy to, Misseur. Just allow me to finish up here and dispose of Misseur Vermite." The Gallah pulls his arrow out of the cloth bundle, wipes it off and tucks it back into his quiver. He bows to the shopkeeper. "Normally I charge twenty shekels, but as this was a messy job I shall only charge ten, oui? For an extra fiver, I will also give you a bag of herbs to sprinkle around your shop that should dissuade future invasions."

Aaron perks both ears at the mention of vermite-repelling herbs.

The man nods, moving to step down from the table to the chair beside it. In the course of doing so, he topples it, sending his employee sliding to the ground with a yelp that the larger Kavi ignores. He smoothes his apron again, then pulls a handful of shekels from the front pocket of it. He counts out fifteen and hands them to the Gallah ceremoniously.

Piper's tail wags happily as he hands a pouch over to the Kavi. "If there are future troubles, please let me know. A pleasure working with you, Misseur!" He turns his attentions back on the Lapi. "Now what was this business about fuff'nars? Oh! I remember you now, you are Misseur Aaron, the one who wished the skin of the silver Creen."

The manager accepts the herbs and cuffs his employee, sitting on the floor rubbing his rear, before he sets about straightening up his shop.

Aaron nods! "How is the little fellow doing?" He opens the door for the Gallah, and says, "There's a large fuff'nar on the loose in the basements of the Opera House, which is interfering with some research I need to do. Would you be able to trap it? They sell well in the Bazaar."

"Misseur Argent is fine. As for the fuff'nar, it depends onhow vicious it is." Piper rubs his chin as he steps outside, hefting the dead vermite in his hand as he ponders. "If it is wild it may also be sick, which could lead to trouble. But, oui, I can easily handle one of the beasts. We shall see how it is to be handled when I meet it."

The Lapi smiles, "Wonderful, Mister Argent! I'll show it to you straightaway then. I hope it can be captured. It sings, you see, and I didn't want to poison it."

"My name is Piper, Misseur. Argent is the name of the silver Creen." His tongue lolls out. "A singing fuff'nar, you say? This I shall have to see."

Once they arrive at Alysin's, one of the stagehands shows Aaron and Piper to the cellar with a minimum of fuss, and lights the sconces by the door to the right room before hurrying back up the stairs with his lantern.

Aaron lights his own little mini oil lantern, which doesn't illuminate much beyond what's immediately before it. "It's down here somewhere. Personally, I don't know what people see in fuff'nars."

The Gallah sniffs at the ground, hunting for traces of the freshest trail. "The same reason why people keepbeasthounds or vanderats I would think, Misseur. There are those that find the exotic and wild alluring. Was this fuff'nar an escaped pet of some sort?"

"I imagine so," the rabbit muses. "Probably escaped when some noblewoman brought it along to a performance."

The still musty air almost hurts to breathe, but Piper easily catches the recent scent of a fuff'nar on the floor. As he sniffs around, he quickly determines that the fuff'nar's nest must be in a crate on the floor, against the far wall. There's also the tang of old vermite droppings in the air, but no recent odors of those pests.

"It may be hungry, Misseur Aaron." The Gallah rubs his itching nose and sniffles loudly to clear out his sinuses. "I cannot smell anything here that it might prey upon, but I do smell its nest." He hefts the bundled vermite corpse. "But perhaps it can be tamed somewhat by offering it some food, oui?"

From the far wall comes a sound like claws scraping stone, then a cheerful voice sings out, "Kill!"

"I suppose so. I've mostly dealt with wild animals, not escaped pets," Aaron says. "And the wild ones usually avoid you or try to eat you … eep!"

Piper's lips curl back in a nervous snarl. "Indeed. Stay behind me, Misseur. I have been bitten before and can probably manage myself better if it attacks." He unwraps the vermite and tosses it towards the sound.

"Meat!" the voice cries out in warm tones as the corpse skitters across the floor. A shadowy shape shifts, then pounces on the dead body. The sound of tearing flesh resounds loudly in the closed space.

Aaron's ears go back and he turns a bit green. "I've never heard one use that word before. Just 'kill' and 'dead?' all the time."

A pause in the tearing noises, then "kill dead!" sung in warm, friendly tones, before the crunching of teeth along small bones can be heard again.

"They mimic what they hear, Misseur. Not all tame Creens say 'hello', after all." The Gallah crouches down and inches towards the fuff'nar. "Hopefully having a full belly will take your edge off, eh Misseur?"

As Piper closes on the fuff'nar, he can see the animal's long fur is matted and dingy, while it rips into the vermite offering with single-minded dedication, slurping down strips of meat as fast as it can tear them free. When the Gallah closes to within a yard, it stops, however, and its eyes glint red from the light of the candles. "Kill!" it sings, staring at the mongrel.

"I am not so easily eaten, petit diable." The Gallah bristles himself and growls. "Misseur Aaron, can you find an empty crate with a lid anywhere?"

The Lapi starts poking around the stacks of crates and bundled papers, doubting anyone would store an empty one in here. He tests the lids of the few that aren't covered in piles of paper.

At the growl from the mongrel, the fuff'nar hisses, latching its front claws around the vermite corpse. It drags the remains of its meal backwards, still facing Piper. After getting another yard between it and the dog, it stops to resume its meal.

Aaron's search turns up one crate which remains fairly sturdy, including the lid, an accomplishment in itself among all the rotting ones. As he suspected, however, none appear empty.

"Here's one that might do; I just need to empty it out first," Aaron says, and after setting down his lantern begins to empty out the crate.

A few moments' work, and the stacks of paper formerly inside the box are piled on the ground beside it.

Aaron picks up the lid, and asks, "Uhh, what do you want done with the crate now?"

The Gallah digs through his pockets. "Set it on its side with the lid open. We will try to encourage the beast to entrap itself. Can you hide behind the box and close the lid upon my word?"

After tipping the crate over, the rabbit hops behind it. "Safest place to be, I imagine," he comments, and holds the lid ready. "Just say when."

The fuff'nar's finishes stripping the vermite's flesh, and starts licking at the bones of its skeleton. It gnaws on one of the chitinous legs vigorously. chew slurp chew chew

Piper retreats a bit and removes some strips of meat from his pockets. He rubs the bloody cloth from the vermite on the meat and tucks it inside the crate. "I will circle around behind it. Keep sharp, Misseur." He starts to make his way around the boxes and tries to get to the other side of the fuff'nar so it can be herded more easily towards the box.

Aaron tries to pinch his nose shut without using his hands, but only succeeds in making a series of rather odd, pained expressions instead.

When Piper makes his way behind the animal, it perks its ears, lifting its head with a vermite leg still dangling from its teeth. "Kill dead!" it sings, taking a few steps forward to put more distance between it and the Gallah, fur bristling.

The Gallah makes an odd snarling noise and stomps forward. He tries to put on the airs of a larger predator out to steal the fruits of a smaller one.

The fuff'nar snatches up the remains of its meal and hurtles away from the hunter, hissing. It reaches the opposite end of the room, near Aaron and the box, and stops, sniffing at the air, glancing over its shoulder to see if the Gallah is still there. A couple of legs fall off from the skeleton of the vermite as it moves, and clink against the stone floor.

Piper keeps his eyes glued to the fuff'nar's catch, making out as though he doesn't notice the other stash of food. He growls again and noisily stomps his feet.

Behind the crate, Aaron peeks out to see if another fuff'nar has shown up, and is relieved to see that it's only Piper.

The fuff'nar catches the scent of the meat from the crate, and abandons the vermite remains to dash inside the crate. "Meat!" it sings happily, diving onto the scraps.

"NOW, Misseur Aaron!" the Gallah barks.

Aaron leaps up and slams the lid down across the front of the crate!

"Kill dead!" The fuff'nar cries, leaping for the crate lid as it shuts, but only bouncing against the wood. It makes a pitiful whimpering sound after the impact, slumping to the floor of the box.

The Gallah rushes up to brace a hand against the top of the lid in case the creature tries to push it open. "It would appear that we have captured it, Misseur Aaron. You are a remarkable assistant." His tail wags.

"Meat," the creature inside the box says, then more eating noises ensue.

"Thank you," Aaron says, still holding the lid in place. "Will you be able to carry this out? And how much do I owe you?"

Piper sniffs at the box. "Fuff'nars can be sold, you said? No matter … this was a simple job and cost me very little in the way of supplies. Ten shekels will do nicely."

Aaron leaves the crate to Piper, and counts out ten shekels from his coinpurse. "Quite a profitable morning for you then. I'd be interested in some of those vermite-repelling herbs as well, if you can come by my shop later?"

crunch snap chew "Kill!" sings the fuff'nar. Its claws scrabble at one corner of the box, and bits of sawdust sift out through the slats near it.

"Of course, Misseur." The Gallah kneels down and nudges another strip of meat through one of the gaps. "What was it that you were looking for down here?"

"Kill dead meat!" sings the fuff'nar in its weird, cheerful voice, as it seizes the latest scrap. It settles down in the crate as it devours the morsel, then burps.

Waving to the piles of papers, the Lapi explains, "I'm trying to find the shell of a dragon's egg. Back when this was an auction house, there might have been one that was part of an estate auction, and I'm trying to track down the buyer, if there is one."

"Misseur Argent knew of a dragon's egg, or perhaps simply heard talk of one. He visited me a few weeks back and I heard him clearly speak it." The Gallah picks up a stack of papers and places them on top of the crate to weigh the lid down. "But the only dragon I know of is Faraon, and as he was a misseur and not a mam'selle, I doubt he had any eggs of his own."

Aaron blinks in the darkness, then asks, "The silver Creen told you about a dragon's egg? I don't suppose he mentioned where it was, did he?"

Piper shakes his head, causing his floppy ears to bounce. "No, Misseur. He only spoke the words. Perhaps he learned them from listening to you?"

The fuff'nar clunks around inside the box as Piper rights it in order to fix the lid in place. It whimpers again for a moment, before going back to gnawing on scraps.

"Ah, I suppose that could be," Aaron muses, and hands over the shekels once Piper's hands are free again.

The two dig through the old records with diligence if not enthusiasm, and their search eventually determines that the relevant records were in the crate next to the fuff'nar's nest. Many of the sheets within it were taken by the animal for bedding material, and those that remain, or can be pieced together, do not list the sale of a dragon's egg.

Aaron sighs. "Well, I guess I'll have to make a trip to Kroz then, and see if I can find one there."

"But Misseur, if it was not sold, might it still be here?" The Gallah tilts his head to the side.

The Lapi rubs his chin in thought. "I don't know. Would the auction house hold onto unsold items? Maybe there's an executor to the estate that would know … hmm."

"We will not know unless we search, Misseur. Perhaps we can search around here and see if there is a room for storing items other than papers. Hopefully le petit diable did not devour it in its hunger, although it probably kept the vermites from eating it."

"I doubt they'd have eaten it; it must have been preserved somehow." Aaron picks up his lamp and heads for the door, then asks, "Can you handle that crate by yourself?"

"It is a bit heavy but I shall manage. I may simply push the crate outside and send word to an animal merchant that I have a fuff'nar for it to buy waiting for it here." The dog licks his nose. "If you are done searching here I may do just that now, although if I can lend you my nose I will be happy to."

"That's alright, my nose is pretty good, and you've given me a new direction to look into," Aaron says, brightening up. "Let me help you get this crate out."