Bear with me, Spinesreach

Ferrik · January 2014

So this all started when...

A conscripted Spirean soldier tells you, "Pardon uh, sir, are you awake?"

[-several mistells later + exit haven-]

Quickly waving a claw as he appears, you say to a conscripted Spirean soldier, "Yessah! I am. You contacted me, yes?"

A conscripted Spirean soldier tells you, "Oh, uh, sir, I'm in the mailroom. I guess I was asked to deliver something to you? But I can't lift it..."

Red in the face, a conscripted Spirean soldier pants heavily, leaning against the crate.

Halls of the Messenger
Although the environment in these halls seems chaotic, a certain controlled aspect can be detected as well. Giant bins full of letters stand along every wall, awaiting messengers to deliver them to their recipient. A few messengers, mostly grey-haired men dressed in characteristic tripoint hats and green tunics, stand sorting through the bins. They are completely absorbed in their work, depending upon a sign on the wall that reads 'For help, please read the HELP MAIL scroll' to satisfy customers. Up in the dark rafters movement can be seen, not the scurrying of rats but rather glimpses of wingtips and talons, although the workers seem to accept their presence without the least concern. Resting on the ground is a cube-shaped silver sigil. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats. An enormous crate sits here, radiating heat and occasionally growling. A crocodile hatchling stands extremely still here, its bulbous green eyes eyeing its surroundings hungrily. You see a sign here instructing you that WARES is the command to see what is for sale.
You see a single exit leading north.

"crate79053"             a gigantic crate.

This crate is positively huge, and radiates heat like a small stove. Inside, its contents make thumping and growling noises.
It weighs about 4095 pound(s).

Vastly it looms, stamped clearly with the legend "TO COMRADE FERRIK OF SPINESREACH".

You have emoted: "Uh.." Ferrik stammers, "So ah.." he indicates the crate with a talon, "Who ah.. where ah.. did this come from?" he finally finishes the first inquiry.

"From the 'North'," a conscripted Spirean soldier says, a little disconcerted. The way she says it, it must be all the information she was given. "Had a Cabalist look at it, they don't think there's anything harmful in there. Looks like someone left you a very big present! Mind helping me get it to the delivery point?"

A conscripted Spirean soldier says, "Or... shoot. I can't really leave my post. I guess you're on your own."

You have emoted: Ferrik's snout wrinkles as one brow ridge droops, the other lifting in contemplation. Another "Uh.." follows at the soldier's concession. "Great." he adds with all the enthusiasm of his new dilemma.

A conscripted Spirean soldier snaps a salute. "Good luck, Mr. Section Chief!"

Somewhat uncertainly, in a high pitch, you ask, "So how sure are we about the nothing harmful part?"

A conscripted Spirean soldier says, "Pretty sure! I mean it's not like they actually peeked inside - I think there's a law against that. But he said it's uh... 'signature' checks out?"

A conscripted Spirean soldier says, "Anyway, it's gotta get to the big top."

You have emoted: Tentatively, Ferrik approaches the crate at a slow crawl. Audibly sniffing the exterior, eyeing it carefully as he circles it. The reptile freezes once the package's destination is mentioned. "TO THE BIG TOP YOU SAY?!" he cries out, immediately sitting up straight on his hind legs and popping up beside the crate to stare at the soldier.

A conscripted Spirean soldier snaps a step back, unnerved by you. "The uh, tent? Yeah."

You have emoted: "This is..." Ferrik mumbles softly as he starts to eagerly wiggle his claws together, talons clicking. "Glo-ri-ous! Yes!" he breathes.

"I hope you like it, whatever it is," a conscripted Spirean soldier says, unable to help grinning at your enthusiasm. "Anyway, good luck, sir. I gotta get back to watching the mail room." She does exactly that, accomplishing this task by moving a few feet toward the counter and looking a bit more observant.

You have emoted: With something of a running, or rather waddling start, Ferrik moves to ram his shoulder against a side of the crate, attempting to move it.

"Ok!" you exclaim at a conscripted Spirean soldier.

To the soldier's surprise, the crate skids right across the room and gently hits a wall, provoking a loud, furious squalling from its insides. It appears to be on wheels!

You have emoted: Triumphantly, Ferrik thrusts both his front claws up into the air, bellowing a loud, "A-HAH!"

A conscripted Spirean soldier says, "Oh, I didn't even think of that. Well there you go, you oughta be able to get it down there."

You have emoted: Ferrik eagerly claps his claws together, nodding and grinning at the Spirean soldier. "Right-o!" he responds, forming something of a bungled salute.

The crate can be easily moved! It's with you right now.

You hum a happy tune.

-move move-

A soft squeaking noise sounds out throughout the Citadel, accompanied by the pitter-patter of crocodilian claws.

(Spinesreach): Moirean says, "...what was THAT."
(Spinesreach): Moirean says, "Ferrik, are you breeding?"
(Spinesreach): Vix says, "I'm guessing Ferrik."
(Spinesreach): You say, "Ah.. hah. Wait. No. Just.. just give me a minute! One second. Hold on!"

Beneath the bigtop
A giant tent sits in the middle of the fairgrounds, lined with crude bleachers to create a large seating area. Three rings have been formed from wooden beams, filling the center of the tent, while immense poles stretch overhead to support the heavy canvas awning. Rich and pungent smells fill the air - puffed corn, hot butter, peanuts and even the piquant aroma of livestock dung. A sigil in the shape of a small, rectangular monolith is on the ground. A conscripted Spirean soldier coldly scans the area for threats. Rolling all about the place here is a lightweight, hollow mustard toy ball. Rolling all about the place here is a lightweight, hollow yellow-green toy ball. A crocodile hatchling stands extremely still here, its bulbous green eyes eyeing its surroundings hungrily.
You see a single exit leading north.

You wheel the crate into the tent.

You have emoted: Huffing and panting from the exertion, Ferrik draws in a few slower breaths, tongue lolling out. "Hokay.. ha.. I.. okay." he breathes, gathering himself.

You have emoted: Within moments, Ferrik is on the crate, furiously clawing at the boards.

What tough work! This thing could probably stop a Hashani siege. You seem to be making progress, though.

You have emoted: Assessing the situation, Ferrik finally decides to retrieve an old, golden longsword from his belongings. Holding it up high, perhaps to size it up, he bellows an enthused, "YES! THIS HAS POOOWEEEER!" and promptly decides to leverage the heavy weapon, hacking away at the crate instead.

You say to a hungry crocodile hatchling, "Don't just stand there kid! CLAW AWAY AT IT!"

Each mighty strike elicits a worried growl from the crate. Hack after hack, your swordwork makes splinters of the crate panel.

You must have compromised the thing's structural integrity, as the box abruptly collapses. A massive pile of bears tumble out of the crate, exhausted and upset.

Dressed in festive vests, a large troupe of trained bears cavorts about the tent.

"troupe292589"           a troupe of performing bears.

In varying pelts of brown, grey, black, and gold, these bears are plump and well looked after, dressed in garish vests in the traditional Republican red. They are unusually spry, most of them, save for an exceptionally fat one that tends to lag behind the group. The troupe appears to have a communally agreed-upon leader - an especially large brown bear who, despite his acrobatic grace, moves in a suspiciously drunken stupor.
A troupe of performing bears is about equal in strength.
It weighs about 4095 pound(s).
It is loyal to the City of Spinesreach.

The bears hardly seem cognizant of you, standing up, stretching their legs, getting the lay of the place. They seem awfully well-behaved despite their earlier protests.

However, as they mill about, a note is revealed under one of their furry bottoms.

You read what is written on a small note:
Hello! We would be all too happy to perform for your grand city.

   We can be trained as a TROUPE.

   We can only be trained by the Chairwoman, or a designated Ringmaster.

   Please feed us vodka to keep us very happy!

- from Spinesreach's great benefactor

Current Ringmaster: Ferrik.

You clear your throat.

Puffing up your chest, you put on your thickest Spirean accent and clap at the bears, shouting, "Up, fat comrades! Is time for show!"

The lead bear hops onto a squeaky little unicycle.

The biggest bear jumps onto his shoulders.

The fat, sluggish bear lags behind the group.

Their performance concluded, the trained bears return to their corner of the tent, heedless of the din as the crowd roars and applauds in approval.

You have emoted: "Okay .. okay.." Ferrik encourages the troupe, panting a bit himself. "Take.. take five bears. I need some too."

You have emoted: Ferrik plops down on the ground.

The bears look at you knowingly.

One of the bears comes across a discarded vodka bottle, sniffing out the traces of its scent. He probes at it with a questing tongue, growling in frustration when it turns out to be empty.

[Later. Because, RL]

(Spinesreach): You say, "So ah. My delivery has been unpacked and properly uh trained. Who wants to quickly come take a gander? Just southwest of the fields."

Trundling about nervously, Ferrik is here, motioning at the bear troupe.

[ People respond. Walk in. Yada yada. ]

Vix points accusingly at a troupe of performing bears.

You grin and nod at Vix.

A cloaked figure blinks.

Xenia stays near the entrance of the room, where she watches on from her perch upon a massive arctic grizzly.
She leans down and whispers to the bear, "Watch, you'll learn something, perhaps."

Vix quickly scribbles in her notepad, "You never did explain what that pitter-pattering was earlier, Ferrik..."

Vix points accusingly at a troupe of performing bears.

You have emoted: Turning away from his pack of trained bears, Ferrik eyes the gathering crowd. "Right ah. Aaaalmost everyone, yes?" he questions. A snarl from one of the bears, causes the crocodile to snap back to attention, sneering at the offender with a snap of his talons. "Down Comrade Bearishnakov!" he hisses.

Clearing his throat with a rasp, you say, "OKAY! So. Is this everyone, yes?"

You have emoted: "Okay!" Ferrik states plainly, half turning to face the crowd, but keeping a sideways glance at the bears.

"This here.. ladies and gentleman." Ferrik explains with a gesture to the troupe, "Was my delivery from earlier." he cuts himself off to wave a claw at Akaryuterra, "OH HELLO!" he bellows, before assuming his previous serious posture. "A new attraction for Spinesreach I have been working on." he continues, tugging at his whip before pushing it aside. "For many days on end we have trained. But I present to you!" a grand gesture follows, "The Spirean Bear Troupe!" he motions to said troupe. "Namesubjecttochangeandpendingfurthercreativity." he rattles off after.

Vix snickers under her breath.

Vix quickly scribbles in her notepad, "Yogi and Booboo?"

Shuffling as he kicks a claw at the dirt, you say, "So ah without further ado! I would like to get to the main act. I need some rest after all this training you see."

You have emoted: Ferrik claps his claws together, turning to address the bears. "All right crew! You remember this one by heart now." he slams one balled up claw in the other. "Now we're going to do this.. and we're going to do this right." he hisses at one of the bears, "NO! Throw that bottle away! Now, Rupert!" a grunt from the back of the troupe answers and is followed by the sound of glass breaking.

Moirean stifles a giggle as she slides into a seat in the bleachers, watching with amusement.

You have emoted: Ferrik flashes a cheeky grin to the ground and pushes a thumb talon up at them. "Right. So ah. Silence please. Bear with me, Spinesreach." he humbly takes a short bow. "Be amaaaazed." he concludes in a whisper.

Puffing up your chest, you put on your thickest Spirean accent and clap at the bears, shouting, "Up, fat comrades! Is time for show!"

With some grunting and growling, the bears start to walk in a circle, nose to puffy tail as they shuffle about.

Xenia frowns at the sound of glass shattering, no doubt in protest to the ideas of a wasted drink.

The lead bear suddenly stops, scrambles to the center and halts there.

In unison, the rest of the bears follow up, trundling their way beside the other - lining up perfectly.

Several bears grunt and growl, lowering themselves down a little ways as the ursines beside them clamber on top of them, forming another layer of bears.

Slowly but surely, the bottom bears are starting to grunt in something of a melodic rhythm.

Faintly you can make out the tune, "Dah dah dah-dah-dah-dah, dah dah, daaah daaah!

To your surprise, the bears prove quit nimble and resourceful. One bear jumping on the other one to reach up and assume its place amongst the mounting pyramid of bears.

The melodic humming and growling continues as the bears assemble more quickly now. Dancing and hopping as they ascend their brethren.

Finally, there is only one spot left open on top. The lead bear, sways and swaggers closer. He utters something that might be perceived as a drunken growl.

With a rising chorus of loud growls, the leader sluggishly makes his way up to the very top. Triumphantly raising its bear paws and roaring aloud.

Rah-RAAAAH! the bearamid growls in united victory.

Whether part of the performance or not, the leader bear lets out a resounding burp. The newly formed 'bearamid' starts to slowly move and walk as one. A massive force of bears holding on to each other.

Not before long, the bottom starts to tremble however. Unable to bear the weight much longer, one by one, several of them lose their balance. And then, in a giant ruckus of yelps, snarls, dust and growls all that is left of the pyramid of bears is a pile of multicoloured furs instead.

Their performance concluded, the trained bears return to their corner of the tent.

Aoibheann blinks.

Moirean breaks into applause, letting out a whoop of approval.

You have emoted: Ferrik lets loose a slowly exhaled, long breath in relief. Turning to the crowd as he lifts his top hat in a short salute. "Tada!" he echoes, "The Spirean Bear Troupe thanks you!"

Akaryuterra blinks. After a pause, he brings up his hands and begins cheerfully clapping, applauding you and the bears.

Xenia cheers loudly, "UnBEARlievable".

You conjure up the illusion: One of the bears of the troupe shuffles forward, levelling a blank stare at the massive arctic grizzly and its rider before retreating.

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "So wait..."

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Which one's Rupert?"

Akaryuterra looks to the troupe curiously.

You have emoted: "Uh.." Ferrik motions with a talon to the bear troupe. "That one.." he states uncertainly. Several of the bears pop their heads up, but seem disinterested at best.

Xenia smirks, leaning in closer to a massive arctic grizzly, "you will learn quite a bit from these bears."

Vix pokes at an imposing, white-furred yeti pointedly.

Akaryuterra slowly nods.

You have emoted: Ferrik trundles up alongside Akaryuterra, "I ah.. I just made up weird names for them. They seemed to start responding to them.. so several stuck around." he whispers in reply to the man.

Zaephlyn murmurs to you, "Good job."

Zaephlyn inclines his head politely to those around him.

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Right, well, damn good work Ferrik."

Akaryuterra's mouth turns up as his face breaks into a smile.

You have emoted: "Thank you.. thank you.." Ferrik takes his final bow, lifting his top hat high one more time (briefly revealing a tiny reptile curled up on his head), "Now ah, thank you for your time and patience. Carry on with your daily lives as per usual, Spireans." he suggests with a toothy grin. "More elaborate performances will be forthcoming!" he adds swiftly.

Vix snickers under her breath.

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says to Moirean Seirath, Champion of Balls, "Like ta see any'a the others try'n boast this kinda entertainment."

Akaryuterra nods his head sagely.

"Ha!" you exclaim.

You have emoted: Ferrik strikes a proud pose, balled up claws set in his sides. To which the bears seem to respond in unison, uttering a grumbled, "Rah-Raaaah!" again.

Moirean gives Akaryuterra a nod of agreement. "Spirean bearamid is mighty thing," she muses. "What could rival this?"

Xenia peers about the tent, "We need a piano in here," she sugests.

Loudly, you say to Xenia, "YES."

Pursing her lips, Moirean Seirath, Champion of Balls says to Ser Xenia of the Steel, "We have one, you know."

Moirean Seirath, Champion of Balls says to Ser Xenia of the Steel, "In the institute."

Xenia ponders the situation.

Moirean points north and then southeast.

You have emoted: Ushering for silence, Ferrik nods at Xenia, "That may or may not be planned for a next performance."

Xenia nods gravely to you, "Excellent comrade, I may or may not be excited to see that."

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Rival? Prob'ly not."

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Don't think anythin' could, really."

You ponder the situation.

You say to Akaryuterra, "You might be right. Maybe I will have to tour with them, to show how glorious we are here."

Akaryuterra looks about himself, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Could do."

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Who would ya show'em to ya think?"

You have emoted: As sudden realization dawns on him, Ferrik is overcome with a blank expression, eyes gradually widening.

As if in agreement, a massive arctic grizzly Xenia sits upon rumbles loudly in what can best be described as an agreeable roar.

Softly musing, you say, "A tour. Touring across Sapience."

Akaryuterra blinks.

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Oh, I have to do something."

Akaryuterra Ryotega Junakutz-Lionheart says, "Pardon me."

"Right," you say with a nod.

Patting several of the bears on the head, you say, "Good job everyone. I must go now for a little bit."