7 Unity, 6104 RTR (16 May 2000) Aaron searches for records at Alysin's Opera House.
(Aaron) (Rephidim)
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Alysin's Opera House
The old building has seen many uses in its day: auction house, art gallery, museum, ballroom, theater and opera hall. Today, it has gone back to its presumed origins, under new ownership. Renovations have brought it back to what might approximate its original glory … or maybe even improve on it here or there. A scarlet zolken curtain with weighted gold-colored tassels hides most of the stage, though a semi-circular "runway" ventures out into the grand hall, flanked by the band pit. Rows of seats radiate outward, and climb up the walls on two levels of balconies and private booths.

Aaron LightfootAaron the shopkeeper pokes his long-eared head through the backstage entry, and calls out, "Helloooo! Anybody home?"

A young feline tumbles with acrobatic grace across the floor of the backstage hallway, towards the door, doing a somersault that converts to a flip, then a handstand from which she springs to her feet to land before the visiting Lapi, smiling brilliantly. "Yes!" she declaims, hands resting on her hips.

Aaron blinks and smiles in surprise. "Ah, a pleasure to meet you!" The Lapi bows, and introduces himself. "Aaron Lightfoot, Apothecary. I don't suppose you could show me where the auction records are kept, could you?"

The tumbler tilts her head to one side, canting an ear. "Auction records?" she echoes bemusedly. "What auction?"

The Lapi tilts as well, trying to keep even with the feline's face. "Oh … well, this used to be an auction house, before it was refurbished a few years back. I'm trying to find a particular item, you see, that may have been sold here."

"There were auctions here?" She blinks a few times, brushing a strand of hair behind one ear, which starts to pinken, as she adds as an afterthought, "I'm Nicia, sorry. Ummmm… Maybe the stage manager can help you?"

"Ah, yes!" Aaron brightens. "That would be splendid, if you could introduce me, Nicia. I wouldn't want to take up your practice time; I know how you dancers work hard at your art."

"That's okay, it's no trouble at all." Nicia flicks her whiskers forward, then turns and beckons. "Follow me." She spins into a cartwheel, taking two rotations to cover the short hallway, then switches to backflips as she heads across a more open space in the backstage area, littered with boxes and racks of costumes.

Aaron follows along quickly, trying not to trip over ropes and bump into any props along the way. It's not easy to follow someone quite so … limber.

Indeed, Nicia, doing flips and other complex maneuvers, seems to have an easier time dodging the detritus than the rabbit following her. She tumbles her way across the deserted stage, then down another short hallway on the other side, and cartwheels to an upright position before a closed door, managing to swing into knocking in one seamless motion. "Manson!" she hollers, "Visitor!"

Coming up behind Nicia, Aaron tugs his ears down at the shout, but recovers quickly. "You know, I carry some ointments and liniments in stock if you ever get sore muscles."

The feline spins about to face the shopkeeper once more. "Really?" She perks her ears. "What kind? Vasie has this horrid paste he tries to inflict on me, but I can't stand the stuff. It smells like a herd of Rughrats."

The door next to her swings opens, and a voice from within says, "And costs as much as one, too," with a hint of irritation. "What is it, Nicia?"

"Oh, I have mentholated ones, and one type that actually smells like xhocolatl, from Abu Dhabi," the rabbit trails off as the manager speaks.

"Heavens, not another merchant. We can't afford it, Nicia. Send him away." Without ever stepping forth from behind the door, the manager starts to close it again.

"I can supply some for free!" Aaron speaks out quickly, hoping to keep the manager's attention. "That is, if you can help me track down something that may have been auctioned off here a few years ago?"

"Free?" The door stops closing. "Track down what?" Suspicion laces his voice.

"Oh, c'mon, Manson. At the least give him a chance to talk to you," Nicia protests, pushing the door fully open again, and causing an indignant squeak to erupt from the now-visible Eeee manager.

Leaning forward, Aaron tries to get a peek at the now exposed office. "Well, I was hoping you'd have a lead in your auction records from the estate sale of Titus Haut Mikide a few years back. I'm trying to find a dragon's egg, and I heard he might have had one."

The bat manager folds his arms across his chest, puffing himself up slightly. He looks to be no taller than Aaron, however, and the Lapi is able to peer past him at a small room with a desk, chair, and two bookcases full of neatly stacked folders and ledgers.

"Auctions, eh? It's been a long time since this place was an auction house, young man," the bat says, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Aaron tries a bit of flattery. "Of course sir, but clearly it was a well run affair."

A snort erupts from the Eeee in response. "Oh, you'd think so. Shows what you know. Was well before my time here, praise the First Ones."

The Lapi's ears droop a bit. "Ah, but records were kept, I hope?"

Manson relents. "Well. Yes. They were kept, after a fashion." He scratches at his cheek.

While the two males speak, Nicia busies herself in limber stretches against the door frame, placing one foot by the base of the frame, and the other near its top, then leaning forward against the high leg.

"Well … urr … " Aaron loses his train of thought for a moment as he notices Nicia exercising. "Ah, that is … after what sort of fashion? I deal with mages a lot, and you wouldn't believe what some of them think of as organization."

"Well … ah. When Duchess Eve Kurai took ownership of Alysin's, she was not overly concerned with certain … ah … aspects of its history. It has been arather tumultuous one, as perhaps you are aware." Manson takes a pause to watch the acrobat, too, while Nicia switches to doing a back-breaking arch, legs curved and her hands gripping the backs of her ankles. She looks like she ought to fall over at any moment, but doesn't.

Aaron waves a hand. "Ah, you mean all that stuff about curses and murders and undead gatecrashers. Well, that's tobe expected in show business, isn't it? All part of the drama. But hardly the sort of thing to get in the way of proper bureaucracy."

"Oh. Yes, of course. Actually, Duchess Eve was quite enchanted with the curses and murders part, I think, in an odd sort of way. But the record-keeping really wasn't of much use to her … and all those boxes and so forth were rather in the way up here. Mind you, I did convince her that we ought to keep it, you know … just in case." He waves a hand vaguely, as if it should be obvious what sorts of cases an opera house might need auction records in. "But it's in … ah. Storage. In the cellar."

"The cellar?" Aaron asks, ears drooping again. "I'd imagine there were quite a lot of them, for a place this large. Damp, are they?" Visions of moldering receipts schlump their way through the rabbit's mind, making soppy noises.

"Very, I'm afraid," the Eeee manager concedes, glumly. "And … er … "

"Smelly?" the Lapi prompted, in a hopeful tone of voice.

"Vermite-infested," the bat finishes.

"Ah," Aaron says, a bit relieved. "Just vermites? No smugglers or assassins or exiled opera critics?" For someone who spent his youth slogging through swamps and jungles, vermites were just another type of biting insect to be tolerated.

"Er. Not that I'm aware of," the stage manager replies. He glances at Nicia, murmuring, "You don't suppose … ?" then shaking his head in negation. "Anyroad, if you'd like to take a look, you are welcome to do so," he says expansively. "But we're not to be held responsible for anything that might happen to you while you're down there."

Aaron perks his ears back up again. "People disappear down there then?"

Manson steps back into his office and starts to close the door. "Again, not that I'm aware of. But if you do, it's not my fault. First time for everything and all that. Nicia can show you where the records are – Cellar Two, my dear – if you're still interested." The door is nearly shut as he finishes.

Aaron steps back and smiles to Nicia. "Well, it can't be any worse than trying to raid a dragon's nest, can it?"

As the door clicks shut, the feline makes a face at it. "Manson!" she yells, flattening her ears back, but the manager does not reappear. She sighs. "Sez you," she answers the Lapi. "C'mon, this way."

The shopkeeper takes a quick inventory of what he's carrying. A blowgun won't do much against vermites, nor does he have any Temple Scout Cookies for them to break their teeth on. His pockets furthermore do not reveal any fuff'nars or other vermin-eradicating tools.

"So, been part of the troupe here for long?" the Lapi asks as he follows Nicia to the cellar.

"Mmm, a year or so. Miss Kurai only recently decided that the opera house oughta have some more, you know, active participants. Instead of just singers or dancers." She takes a lantern from a peg, and leads the way down a dark staircase, with no more of her former tumbling stunts.

"That would attract more of the younger crowd, I imagine," Aaron says, as he follows carefully down the stairs, ears and nose alert.

The air stinks of vermite droppings, mold, dust, and some kind of musk the Lapi does not immediately recognize. "I think it's meant to attract more of, well, Miss Kurai's attention, really," Nicia comments. She follows the wall to another door, and opens it. The stench from within is even greater than in the first cellar, and she flicks her ears back. "Here we are," she says, distaste strong in her voice.

Aaron quickly pulls a handkerchief to cover his nose, and offers another one to Nicia. "The records are in this next room?" he asks.

She nods, taking the handkerchief. "Through there." She points the lantern into the room through the door. It's stacked wall-to-wall with rotting wooden crates, within some of which can be seen stacks of papers, some loose, some bound together in ledger-style books.

The Lapi sighs and moves in closer, to see if any of the ledgers have dates or other information on them.

Starting with the nearest crate, he finds that the sheets are, thankfully, dated, and all of the ones in that crate do appear to have come from the same time period … some fifteen years ago, around Candlemass. The sheets are somewhat difficult to make out, and fragile with age, but they do seem to have, at one point, recorded the provenance, price, and purchaser of various different auctioned items.

Aaron starts to ignore the smell as he leafs through, trying to find the records from five or six years back.

Unfortunately, the crates do not appear to be stacked in the same chronological order, making the task a far more arduous one. At least, however, there seems to be no sign of live vermites, and the droppings left behind in the boxes seem months old.

Aaron tries to climb onto one of the crates to see into one at the top of the stack, muttering to himself.

The rabbit has to place his feet carefully to avoid breaking the none-too-sturdy box. As he rummages through the crate – more recent, only seven years old – he hears a low growling sound behind him.

"Nicia, is that you?" he asks cautiously, not turning around to avoid losing his balance.

"Kill," sings out an eerie voice, wholly unlike Nicia's, from somewhere behind and to Aaron's left.

"Fuff'nars," the Lapi whispers to himself, "Why does it always have to be fuff'nars?" He tenses his legs, preparing to leap back away from the crates.

Seconds trickle past, and nothing happens.

Aaron risks looking back over his shoulder.

The lantern's light barely pierces the gloom of the cellar, leaving most of the stacked crates shrouded in darkness. However, from the same direction as the growl, Aaron spots a glint of reflected firelight.

The Lapi makes a leap for the doorway, abandoning the records!

Nothing interferes with the rabbit's headlong flight, although a distant growl does sound after him. "Meat!" sings the same voice as earlier, sounding weirdly cheerful.

Aaron scrambles towards the lantern light. "Oh great, it's expanded its vocabulary to boot… "

The lantern, hung on a nail beside the door, is within easy reach of the rabbit.

Grabbing the lantern, Aaron makes a quick turn to shine the light through the room, trying to find Nicia.

The feline tumbler is no where in sight, but the lantern's illumination reveals, in the thick dust and grime of the floor, the two sets of footprints – Lapi and feline – entering the area, as well as a set of feline tracks heading back out the way they had come in.

Aaron decides to follow the footprints back out, before the fuff'nar starts singing again.

"Kill!" the fuff'nar's voice echoes amiably after the departing rabbit.

Hurrying up the stairs, the Lapi wonders just how big a fuff'nar can get. Maybe that Piper kid could lure it out…

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GMed by Rowan

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