Date: Seventeenth of January, year 810 Post Seminal War (810 PSW)

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Job Arseoth drifted from the spellcaster and cleric section back to the more regular clothes. He wasn’t a student anymore, and Job decided that a ‘comfortable’ outfit would be one he would feel comfortable working in the field in. To that end he selected a tan button-up tunic, black leather vest, and a set of brown pants with leather reinforcement patches at the knees. A leather belt with a brass buckle and a pair sturdy leather boots completed the basic set of clothes. Job added a mottled grey-green hooded mageweave cloak with a weatherproofing enchantment. Then a hat rack caught his eye. Job wasn’t usually a hat person, prefering to go either bare-headed or hooded, but Enra was buying so why not. He selected a wide-brimmed sable fedora and perched it atop the small stack of clothes he had slung over one arm. Slinging the belts over his shoulders, and picking the two pairs of boots up by their laces, he headed off to find the rest of the party.

Enra Thallia looked unhappily at the rows and rows of dresses. She had had an idea, but it was falling apart at the seams. Not even the most garish colors or obscure designs would cause the stir she wanted. Sly stood at her shoulder, eyes wide as Enra casually set aside petit dress after skimpy dress.

“Prancer, I know you want to cause a stir, but dressing like a whore ain’t gonna do it. What if… Is there summit that all the Lords wear when they have their fancy get-togethers?”

Enra blinked, frowned in thought, and scratched the back of her left ear. “Not for social gatherings, but… do you mean for the Parliamentary gatherings?”

“Yeah, those ones. Don’t they all wear wigs or something? And the Ladies have to wear a white dress I think.”

“I’m trying to get out of politics, not get into them! And only the bride gets to wear the white dress on her wedding.”

“Not what I was thinking Prancer. What’d happen if a Lady showed up to a gathering in a wig?”

“She’d get… thrown out… of...” Enra eyes went round, “oh gods, that’s brilliant. Perfect! Absolutely perfect!”

Sly frowned, “what’s perfect?”

Enra wore a fool's grin, “the Lords do have a ‘uniform’ of sorts, and it’s not a silly powdered wig. Not anymore, at least. Tailed coat, button-down shirt, pants, cuffs, and a top hat. I’ll leave the top hat off, I’ve another piece of headwear that I’m kind of obligated to wear. You stay here and find a pair of dresses for yourself, I’ll need to raid the men’s section and then find a tailor for some quick alterations. Remember, long and elegant for the wedding, shorter for the reception.”

“You got it Prancer!” but Sly was talking to Enra’s back as she departed.

Baar’miin fluttered her wings anxiously as the tailor stretched the measuring tape about their base.

“Fold them in and out slowly please? I’d like to see how they close up so that I can figure out if a simple slit will suffice or if you will need a more open back arrangement.”

Baar’miin complied with the request.

“That you very much my lady, that’s everything I need to make the necessary alterations to anything you select. I’ll have a set of Clerical tabards run up for you in about twenty minutes or so. We already have the pattern in the needed size, and in blue with white trim.”

Baar’miin nodded, still in awe at how easily these surface-city-dwellers treated expensive cloth! Even before her wings had sprouted and she had been outcast from the Lair, cloth had been a rare commodity, and a full set of cloth clothes were a mark of high status. “Do… Do you have any suggestions? Not used to wearing cloth.”

“Oh, for the wedding? You’re there as a Cleric of Bahamut, right?”

“Yes, with my family.”

“All urds like yourself? Hmm, well, for you I’d recommend formal Cleric tunic, hat and holy icon included, though you can take those off for the reception. I’ll add a set to the tabards, should only take an extra few minutes. Pants, or at least baggy shorts, are a must unless you want to expose your neathers while in flight. For your family, who else is coming?”

“My mother and two sisters.”

“All about your size in height, wingspan, and chest area?”

“Yes, if that matters?”

“For dresses, it can matter a little. You know them much better than I, why don’t you find them a dress or two each? One for the wedding, and one just to have.”

“Won’t that cost too much? Cloth not cheap...”

“With the new steam-driven mechanical looms? It’s cheaper than ever before, even silk and mageweave. Besides, it’s going on Enra’s family account anyway, so don’t worry about cost.”

Baar’miin nodded, “okay, I should meet you here with those dresses and shorts?”

“With a dress, underpants are a must, not shorts. Lady Enra or lady Sly can help you out with those.”

“Thanks muchly!”

“It’s a pleasure lady Baar’miin.”

Baar’miin left the tailor to do her work and poked her snout into the store at large, looking for Enra or Sly. instead, she saw a rack of small dresses. They weren’t sort dresses, just small ones, made for people about her size. Some had fancy stitching, some were more plain. Baar’miin, unused to surface styles, guessed that the ones with fancy stitching, were for fancy events. With that settled in her mind, she selected a yellow dress for Nel’viing and an orange dress for Bii’vrii, both with blue stitching, and a dark blue dress with silver stitching for Silon’dez’monah. She picked up three dresses in different shades of green without stitching, for ‘casual’ wear, and dropped them off with the tailor. Then she went in search of Sly to find out what ‘underpants’ were.

Sly Malon usually thumbed her nose at the ruffles and flourishes that the rich insisted at putting on all of their clothes, preferring instead comfortable and practicable clothes. But Sly couldn’t do that when she was expected no not only show up to one such event, but be ‘on the arm’ of the youngest sister of the bride. Sly had a bad feeling that Enra was going to cause quite the scandal, and Sly didn’t want to add anything to the mix if she could help it.

Which meant wearing a fancy dress for the first time in her life. Sly stared at a display without seeing it, trying to pin down her selection criteria so that she wouldn’t be overwhelmed. Enra had insisted on a ‘long and elegant’ dress for the wedding and a ‘short’ one for the reception, but had said next to nothing of colors. Sly though the issue over, considering and discarding ideas. White was out, reserved for the bride (though as a trim color it would be acceptable), as was any color associated with blood or whores. So reds and pinks were not options either. Sly also didn’t want anything that would stand out too much, so she mentally discarded anything bright and colorful. Black was a possibility, but Enra would almost certainly be wearing black, so Sly opted out of that as well. She settled on some shade of blue.

With her color narrowed down and a general description of what to look for, Sly let her eyes re-focus on the displays around her. ‘Long’ was the first thing Sly decided to look for, mentally defining that as shoulders to ankles. She wasn’t too sure on what constituted ‘elegant’ other than ‘not what a whore would wear’. A display of dresses with flowing sleeves caught her Sly’s eye and made her grin. The flowing sleeves would hang down almost a foot from the wrist with the arm held out. They were a pickpocket’s nightmare because they would snag on everything but they also could easily conceal a dagger or two, just in case. Sly shook the idea of taking a dagger to the wedding out of her head for the moment, unsure if such a thing was acceptable or not, and started looking for a blue dress.

She found several of the flowing-sleeved dressed in blue, everything from clear sky to deep ocean, with many different trim and stitch colors. She settled on one in an ocean blue with a gold trim made out of fine silk. Sly quickly checked for opacity and confirmed that she wouldn’t be showing anything off by accident. That settled, Sly started looking for a ‘short’ dress. It was still for a wedding reception, so the same color scheme and ‘not whorish’ conditions applied. Sly settled for a sleeveless turquoise dress called a ‘sun dress’ according to the sign on the display before she looked down at her own feet.

Leather boots, despite the ease of hiding a dagger or lockpicks in them, just would not do with a dress. Matching sandals would be required, and she still had to find a new tunic, pair of pants, and leather boots for a casual outfit. Heavily pocketed and in dark colors, of course.

Index Warforged drifted aimlessly through the displays of female clothes. Being an ‘immortal’ sentient magical automaton was amazing at times, but when it came to clothes shopping, it sucked. Most of Index’s body was smooth like a human’s body, but all of the hinge joints in her body; her elbows, knuckles, and knees, were decidedly mechanical in form. This left plenty of places for cloth to snag and tear if she was not careful. Index ran a hand across her smooth head, lamenting at the lack of any hair on her smooth scalp. Ordinarily it didn’t bother her, but she did not ordinarily attend noble weddings where she would draw plenty of attention because of her appearance.

Index stopped aimlessly wandering when she saw all of the bolts and displays of cloth instead of clothes. Most were too large to be worn in any manner, but there were some that were in more reasonable sizes. Index stopped and thought back to several of the ‘light reading’ books from the library, the ones that dealt with clothing and fashion. The books themselves were semi-disposable things, transitory in nature and printed very cheaply, but they had served to instruct a (then) very young Index on the point of wearing clothes at all.

In particular, she recalled a ‘daring’ item of clothing called a sarong. Ordinarily, it was recommended to be worn with underthings and a skirt in case it came untied or slipped. Index wasn’t worried about flashing anyone though, given that she didn’t have anything to flash anyone with. She still covered the appropriate areas for the sake of common decency, but they had more in common with the display mannequins than flesh and blood people. Index knew that she could change this, slowly alter the structure of her body over months to match a more biological form, but she saw no real reason to.

Index browsed the selection of cloths, not really sure what she was looking for. She knew the dimensions she needed, but wasn’t sure about the color she wanted. Idly, she picked up a small sample and ran her fingers across the pattern. Sapphire blue, the same shade as her glowing gemstone eyes, with a wonderful silver-thread henna pattern. Index held the sample up, eyeballing its size. It was just large enough for a handkerchief or bandanna, which gave her an idea. Why go bare-headed, showing simple Ionian Oak grain, when one bandana would both cover and color her scalp? With this in mind Index searched through the other samples, looking for something a bit more subdued for the reception itself. She found one in a clear sky blue with a white ‘sea’ pattern that was absolutely adorable. With the samples in hand, Index headed into the stacks of cloths to find the ones that would become her sarongs.

Enra Thallia scratched behind her left ear as she considered the racks of male clothing. She had not worn pants in public in many years, and had next to no idea of what male fashion would be at the reception. Enra supposed it would be a mix of stodgy suits form the older and more conservative crowd and tunics for the younger people. She promptly dismissed the idea of a second suit, which meant a tunic and pants, probably with a vest. Lacking any real idea of what was ‘in fashion’ at the moment, having skipped all of the other events that she was invited to, Enra decided to build an outfit that would look good on Sly on the theory that anything that looked good on her friend would also look good on her.

Sly, unlike Enra, wore pants often. So Enra decided to start her reception outfit with a pair of pants, selecting a tight-fitting full-length pair in grey leather. Enra matched that with a white silk shirt, billowy about the chest (on a man) and at the arms, with little drawstrings at the wrists. Over this went a vest in turquoise silk, with a pair of black leather knee-high boots for her feet. Satisfied with her selection, Enra sent out a quick round of Whisper cantrips, letting the rest of the party know to start meeting up at the checkout counter when they were ready to leave.

Bein'doc the kobold looked at his nine cunning clan-mates that he had managed to smuggle out of Varr Barak on the trail of the Outcasts and the Black Egg. Between them, only Bein’doc could not go home without the Black Egg, which left him the option of sending a messenger back. Bein’doc did not want to send a messenger back to face Lord Grurvurm. He was not sure if the messenger would make it on their lonesome, for kobolds hated and feared being outnumbered, and being alone meant always being outnumbered. But Bein’doc’s orders had not covered leaving Varr Barak.

Bein’doc nodded to his clanmates as he made up his mind. Splitting up would serve no purpose. They would all follow the egg down the dwarf-made river to the coastal city. The Sirens had been chased from Varr Barak, something that was sure to displease Lord Grurvurm when he found out, but the coastal city was rumored to be larger, buisier, with more places to hide. Bein’doc hoped that he could find a hidden Sirenhold there to gather the reinforcements he would need to try to take back the Blackened Egg.

All ten of them slipped into the night, running as a pack towards a sleepy cargo barge. Bein’doc had no idea what drove the tugboat, nor the reason for the thick white plumes of smoke or steam that trailed above it, but it moved swiftly on the river. With any luck, he and his kobolds could be in the coastal city before dawn, and could use the remaining darkness to slip into the city.

Job Arseoth left the changing rooms satisfied with his selections. He felt the familiar tickle of a Message cantrip and cocked his head to listen.

“Hey, come on up to the checkout counter when you’re ready. I need to let Elci know who and what is going on the family account.”

Job muttered under his breath, using the ‘reply’ function of the Message cantrip to carry his answer. “On my way.”

The walk did not take long, even while stepping carefully to avoid spilling garments all over the place. He met up with index, who was carrying only a few pieces of folded cloth. Job raised one eyebrow, but shrugged his questions aside for later. Baar’Miin held a stack of neatly folded clothes tied up with twine by a tailor, with a funny little blue four-peaked hat with a blue pom in the center perched on her head. A scrap of paper was tucked under the twine on the top-most parcel, presumably with the charges from the tailoring department. Sly held one pair of leather boots and two sets of sandals, with both dresses and a tunic folded neatly over an arm. Job had never seen Sly in a dress before, and he wondered how she felt about it. Enra came trotting up from behind Job, out of the men’s department. Before he could open his mouth to ask any questions, Elci beat him to it.

“All this for your sister’s wedding? She finally made an offer you couldn’t refuse huh.”

Enra showed a vicious grin, “in a way, yes. But I think that she won’t like the results.”

“Dearie, I think she was betting that you wouldn’t have the chutzpah to do this at the royal wedding, especially when she’s the bride!”

Job’s mouth dropped open, “wait this is a Royal wedding and Enra is a Princess?!?”