New Goblin on the Block

[Phlori Phontleroy]

Phlori had only just arrived in Cats Claw from New Grange. He hope that the folk in this rural shire had not grown overly racist and philistine. In Carrick's capital, the goblinoid had been the butt of severe racism and predjudice. In all fairness, Phlori was a very accomplished wizard and spellcaster. His skill in charms work came from his Goblin blood, inherited from his father's side of the family.

Without a place to live, Phlori found lodging in an over-priced boarding house, living in the room next to a very smelly, very "friendly" woman who kept night hours. The room wasn't much, but it was all he had. If he could not find any lodging by the end of the week, he would venture into the forest and see what home he could make amidst the flora and the fauna. He had heard word of Goblins in Cats Claw. Perhaps they would have a place for him to live or work for him to do?

It was a hard thing, being an accomplished wizard of not so pure blood. He was limited in what jobs he could actually hold. Some of the bigoted employers would refuse to hire a mixedblood wizard, let alone a mixedbloody Goblin.

Phlori, in an attempt to meet people, ventured to the pub he saw on his way to the boarding house. When he opened the door, all the eyes in the building turned to see the  diminutive wizard wearing grey robes enter the pub. He pointed his wand at the barstool, which instantly shrunk down to his size. He hopped on the stool and tapped it with his wand. The stool shot back upwards putting him level with the bar and to the shoulders of the other patrons.

"I'll take one cherry syrup with soda and ice." His some what squeaky voice called to the barkeep. "Oh, if you've an umbrella that would be peachy!" The little fellow said, adding a footnote to his order.  It was just after supper and the pub was relatively full of people, leaving only room at the bar on either side of him.

[Nicolette St. James]

Nicky had worked like a dog nearly all day.  She had helped to plant the lettuce and when Stuart and Nicky had ventured back outside the two had attempted to put up the chicken coop.  Something that appeared relatively easy became a rather risky project.  But the two did not stop until her grandmother had called them in for lunch.  It at least had four walls by this time and was looking much better.  The tiny chicken wire was looking good as well and Nicky felt accomplished.  But the two finished the work by putting on a well built roof to finish the project.  Now with the coop done Stuart's plan was to bring in the chickens while they finished planting in the next few weeks.

Nicky had taken a long bath to scrub herself clean.  Dirt and grime was found in the oddest of places, but finally she was finished.  With her straight hair dry and only a hint of wild honeysuckle on her skin she had put on her usual attire.  This consisted of a long flowing peasant skirt, sandals that had jewels on them, and a shirt.  The peasant skirt today was colored.  The top color at her hips was a peach, then flowed to a deep brown, and then at the end was a yellow.  Her shirt matched the deep brown as she headed out to the town.

Not sure where she was headed, Nicky finally ventured into the pub.  She was curious for two reasons.  One, she was looking for a place to get a drink before heading in for the night.  And two, she was looking to see if they were hiring, both male and female.  She had decided after her conversation with Stuart that she'd secretly help him with finding a job.  She knew it would be tough, and even harder once she was working but she had a hope that she could do it. 

As there were only two seats left, Nicky took a seat next to a gentleman in gray robes to her right.  Sitting down she ordered herself Bailey's.  There were generally three things that the people back in Meadowsweet bought, a stout, a whiskey, or Bailey's.  There was an occasional wine drinker in the mix but that consisted of sherry wine or the Irish coffee.  Nicky had never taken to the strong stouts and the whiskeys all had different flavors.  But she could count on the beautiful creamy drink to taste the same, sweet but with a slight kick.  Her order came with the gentleman's to her right, and as the bartender stood there looking at her she smiled up towards him.

"Would you be hiring by any chance?"  She figured the only way you could find things out was by asking and Nicky wasn't afraid of asking.

[Phlori Phontleroy]

While Phlori was nursing his cherry syrup with soda, the little fellow removed a small notebook from the breast pocket of his robes. He then pulled a stub of a pencil out of his shock of white hair. He swiveled in his chair and began to take notes on the environment--the people, the attitudes, the personalities. It would all come in handy later, he figured--better to be over prepared than under.

A young lady walked into the pub. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five, judging, not only by her looks, but by her demeanor. She wore a stylish skirt and smelled of honeysuckle. Her hair looked freshly dried--perhaps she was a physical worker and recently off of her shift, enjoying the evening. As he suspected, she sat next to him, taking the only open seat in the pub. No greeting from the girl, as expected. Youth these days were losing their friendliness. Soon enough, they'd turn out opposite--taking violence rather than niceties.

When she spoke to the barkeep, she ordered a Baily's. Her accent was distinctly Irish and refined--not crude. After the barkeep brought back her Bailey's, the woman asked if they were hiring. That nullified his earlier suspicions that she was a working woman. While it was probably true she would think him an odd duck, even more than she already did probably, Phlori decided to speak with her. She apeared to be a local, but didn't have a job. Perhaps she could help him land some work. Girls with refined accents usually had refined parents and grandparents, perhaps in need of a tutor or something of that sort.

"Pardon me, Madam." Phlori said, turning to face the young woman sitting next to him. "Forgive me for being forward, but may ask your name? My name is Master Phlori Phontleroy. I do hope you can help me?"

[Nicolette St. James]

Perhaps to an elder wizard it was found rude to not have pleasantries to a person one is sitting next to.  But she had also been brought up not to interrupt people, and not to talk to complete strangers.  Surely the rules were meant to be bent as she was now speaking to the barkeeper.  But what was the point to interrupt the people around her?  They all looked to be hard workers and clearly they had the desire to drink and be merry and not have to worry about anything. 

However, at the moment she was not worried about those around her.  Her eyes shone intently on the barkeeper who gave a rather curt nod, but pointed to the wall.  They were in need of a dishwasher and preferably male.  What luck!  Eyes brightened with sudden glory.  "I have just the lad for you sir."  She said excitedly looking at the man who was now taken back.  Sliding over to Nicky a piece of parchment she slipped it into the pocket of her flowing dress.  Feeling a bit at ease she would take the news home to Stuart, a job was better than no job and perhaps this could land him a new job.  The sign said nothing of red caps so clearly Stuart could be hired.  And since he'd be in the kitchens all day, he wouldn't have to worry about people hearing his thick American accent.  Nicky was surely pleased about her find.

It was then she heard a soft voice to her right.  Her head tilted, placing her cup of Bailey's onto the washed board.  This man was speaking to her?  She looked at him carefully.   "I'm Nicky St. James"  She replied, however she did give him an inquisitive look.  "What can I do for you?"  She did not see how she could help him.  And if he was thinking she was the sort of woman that gave out services for money he was sorely mistaken.  He was in the pub not Dark Door Cantina.  Eyes shined with the mystery, very curious indeed as to what this older man wanted.

[Phlori Phontleroy]

The little fellow was slightly taken aback by the tone of voice that the young lady used. While she was no where near rude, she wasn't very outgoing either. The barkeeper had pointed to a sign stating that the pub was hiring a dishwasher, with males taking preference. The young lady seemed all too excited to hear that. Perhaps she had a young husband--a jobless husband--waiting at home for her. That could explain her tone of voice to the short goblinoid.

"A pleasure, Mistress St James." He said, smiling and extending his skinny, boney little hand to the young woman. "St James? You wouldn't be a relation of the Madam St James on the Wizengamot, would you?"

Holly St James was an Inquisitor on the Wizengamot, Phlori knew this much. He had stayed up on politics a little bit while he lived in New Grange. St James was a new Inquisitor compared to the rest of the group, taking the seat of a slain justice, supposedly by a family of immigrants. Holly was known, in the circles that Phlori hung about, to be a moderate. She could hurt them or help them. While she was a moderate, on whole, she was known to make some Royalist verdicts, something that Phlori was not too excited about. Hopefully, if this girl was a relation of the Inquisitor, he wouldn't have to worry about offending.

"Mistress St James, I was wondering if you would, perhaps, have need for a tutor?" Phlori's voice was aged and squeaky. "Please don't take offense, Mistress. You appear to be an intelligent young woman. I was a tutor in New Grange prior to some...well...political shifting. I now find myself alone, in a strange city, with no job or means of living. I have several degrees and many years of experience under my hat--I've papers to show that." His voice lifted a few pitches.

"They may be able to take my career and my house, but they can't take my education or talent." He would be damned if the government took away his education or his prowess at magic. Magic ran through his veins more than it did through the veins of a witch or a wizard. He may not be full Goblin, but he certainly inherited traits from his father and his father's people.

[Nicolette St. James]

It wasn't that she was of standish, it was more that Nicky didn't know how she could help him.  She'd be more willing if she were to know he was hard up, half goblin, looking for work.  But for now he just appeared to be a funny looking wizard that wanted a conversation.  Turning the cup in her hands she tilted her head towards him when he suddenly inquired about her grandmother.  Nodding she waved a hand in the air.  "Yes, that is my grandmother."  She answered in a friendly tone, wondering only momentarily if he wanted to ask about her grandmother, but surely not for he had no idea who she was. 

But finally the questioned was placed on the table and she had to blink at him a few times as she tried to grasp what she'd need a tutor for.  Was this olden wizard trying to be perverted?  Was he trying to make a joke?  But no, he was being serious.  He needed a job and why not be a tutor since that was his previous line of profession?  Her mouth opened slightly as she looked at him.  "I am indeed very sorry about your home and your job.  I do not think any of this has been fair, none of the changes.  And I think the mistreatment of all individuals is getting heavily out of hand."  Her voice became more determined with every pressing syllable, causing the bartender to look at her a little more skeptically and one of the barmaids to whisper 'pipe down or you'll be in jail' beneath her breath.  Eyes scanned the room momentarily and it was then she realized some carrick guards were in the corner drinking heavily, thankfully hadn't heard her yet.  Yes, even Nicolette St. James was afraid of Hackball's cross.  You had to be a complete nutter to not be fearful of that place.  Luckily for her the men were too oiled to actually pay her any attention.

"Well, you see.  I am not sure what I would need a tutor for.  Oh I'm sure my father would love you.  You could teach me how to be a proper young woman and how to raise a family and be a dutiful wife and not make any problems for anyone.  But sadly Mr. Phontleroy.  I like myself the way I am.  I don't care if my beliefs are not seen by all, I will not conform to fit into a perfect little box.  Nor will I conform myself just to have myself a great job and husband.  No.  I am who I am and if that leaves me in a single room flat, without a man then so be it.  For now my Bama has taken me in and I am fine with that until I can get out on my own."

Her voice held that fire that she had not felt since arriving in Cat's Claw.  The need to assert herself and prove that she would rise above the strife and not bow down to it.  She would not go and do some sort of job that left her groveling, nor would she bend any of her morals.  But she now had to find this man a job.  "We should talk to the headmaster at Cat's Claw.  If you were a tutor then why can't you be a professor?"  Her voice was clear and not at all joking.

[Phlori Phontleroy]

Phlori's hopes rose when the young woman began to speak passionately about equality and all that jazz. She was hushed, he guessed momentarily, by the barmaid gesturing to a few members of the Carrick Guard. Phlori understood the woman's reasoning for quieting down. If St James was her grandmother, the girl came from very respectable stock and could not be seen parading around with contrarian views.

She showed herself to be very independent when she declined him as a tutor. She must not have understood his offer. He was no etiquette coach, not indeed. Etiquette paled in comparison to the magic that he knew and could teach. This young lady had an independent mind, indeed. She mentioned that she would not succumb to a husband, thus disproving Phlori's earlier hypothesis. He admired her vivacity and courage to state her opinions of independence and rebellion to an older male whom she did not know.

"Miss, you have me wrong. I am no etiquette coach. I could not teach you which fork to use on which pastry. My life was never as glossy as to allow me to ever learn such things. While I know history, I could care less to teach it to you." The man paused and removed his wand from the inner pocket of his robes. "The matter that I have to teach is magic. You have a very evident independent streak, Mistress St James." With his wand, he pointed to the Carrick Guard in the corner getting sloshed. "Their dependent streak, however, comes with greater magic than is taught in schools. I am offering to teach you the magic that you will need to defend yourself one day, should the state of the government continue as it is."

He lowered his voice. "The Academy will be my next resort. I am not so comfortable being so much in the public eye, you see. I desire to prepare the paths for the rebellion. The rebellion in which freedom is declared from every rooftop. The rebellion where equality and love is the creed. That is the magic that I teach, Miss."

[Nicolette St. James]

How very wrong Nicky had been, indeed.  This man was nothing about etiquette.  He did not care if she could cross her legs correctly, or if her hair was down to her butt.  He did not care that she wasn't married or even if she didn't have a job.  No, he wanted to teach her about magic.  He wanted to teach her magic that wasn't taught in mere schools.  Magic that would help her to rise up and fight when the time came.  Nicky had always believed that there were people in Ireland that had her view points.  That too believed that things weren't right and that changes needed to be made.  She would not be one of the clucking hen's, a mere house wife, who would gossip about how bad it has gotten.  Nope, she wouldn't talk about it, and when the time came for action just sit back and watch.  No, Nicky was a fighter, a mover, a doer.  She wanted to be up front in the battle.  No guts, no glory.  If she were to die, or be hurt at least it would be fighting for something she believed in instead of being a yellow bellied horned toad. 

She would not be a sheep.  She would not just go and do what was asked of her.  She would not be a woman that finished school, got married, had a littler of kids, and maybe worked.  This was Nicolette St. James.  She was above conformity.  His squeeky voice urged her on and as she downed the last of the smooth Bailey's cream she found herself smiling and feeling a little more powerful and courageous for just listening to the man.  Her own inner voice kicking in about rights, freedom and the need for change.  Arm over her heart she felt a swell of pride within herself once more and smiled over to the patron next to her.  "I'd love to hire you."  She said but then stopped, her smile fading momentarily.  "But I'm not exactly sure I can afford the wages.  I'd have to talk this over with my grandmother.  I live with her and as of right now only tend to her garden.  Its hard work but its not a paying job."  Nicky explained looking at the man.  "Perhaps I could persuade her, if not, then I am sorry the academy will be the paying job.  I will happily help in any means necessary though."  She tired to explain and reassure her new found friend at the same time.  Birds of a feather must flock together, and she found this man to be her type of flock.  She liked his reasoning, his motto and what he was living for.  She wanted to help in any means necessary, he was a liberal, one of her own kind.  She had to help out a brother.

[Phlori Phontleroy]

Brilliant! She had caught on! She was willing to hire him on the condition that her grandmother accepted the proposition. Phlori made a mental note to write an owl, at once, to Mrs St James and let her know of this proposed plan. His wage would not be much, only enough to live on. He wanted to move out of that horrible boarding house and into a little shack of his own. He didn't need an estate, just somewhere to call his own--even if he were only renting it.

"Brilliant, Miss." Phlori said and removed a quill and scroll from his sleeve. "Would you mind writing down the address of your grandmother. I shall send her word, at once, of my offer to you and my credentials. I wouldn't expect much in terms of payment. I am a simple man with simple tastes. I would ask only for enough money to find sufficient lodging for myself and have a little money to plant a garden or gather food."

This was wonderful. He would be teaching again. The very prospect of him teaching again, and teaching a person like this young woman, made the man's face seem to radiate with the excitement. Teaching magic was his passion. Before the purge of non purebloods, Phlori could have made loads more money working for the An Taosigh, but he chose to bypass that and teach. He had horrible hours, horrible pay, horrible living conditions...but he loved it--absolutely loved it.

"Judging from your personality, Miss St James, you appear to be a very independent person--the best type for sorcery, indeed. I merely hope that your grandmother sees things that way."

[Nicolette St. James]

Nicky had taken the quill and quickly jotted down her grandmothers address.  She figured this would in fact be the best means possible to be told.  Her grandmother was a busy woman and being sent an owl would encourage her that the man wouldn't show up on her doorstep like a penniless pauper.  No, he knew the civilized thing to do and that would clearly earn points with her grandmother.  She still wasn't certain she wanted a tutor, but her mediocre spell work was something that could use a little kick.  She would not be sufficient if truly in a wand to wand battle.  Sure she had a mean right hook she had used once or twice when being hauled off for some reason while protesting, but never her wand.  She didn't trust her wand like so many other witches and wizards did.  She would do small things, but to Nicky it just wasn't that faithful appendage that she couldn't live without.  Oh sure, the wand came in handy.  She built up spells to protect things and charms to keep things in its place, but in all reality she the wand was not a crutch like it was to so many other wizards and witches who used it far too frequently.  Good hard work was always accepted, as most people accepted it in this town.  However, when it came to a duel, a fight, it wasn't swords they'd use, it would be a wand and she would clearly lose that fight.

Eyes flickered towards him as she pushed the contents back to him.  Laughing softly when he suddenly stated her independence.  An independence that her father found more to be a nuisance instead of something that was appealing.  Shrugging she again had to give a grin at what he had questioned about her grandmother. 

"She is not always what you seem.  Sometimes you must hide true feelings so you are not burned."

With that phrase that her own grandmother had used on her several times.  She sometimes had her own problems with how her grandmother did things, but that didn't mean she didn't love her grandmother.  She did, and she supposed she understood where her grandmother came from.  It was just difficult.  Standing from the stool she gave a small but polite smile.

"I better get going.  Its getting late."

With that she bid Phlori farewell and headed out into the gusty street.

((Figured we should finish this one so we can start the next one))