[It was the cozy, curious sign outside or the smells... oh, the smells. Perhaps it was the sweet smoke of toasted sugar over freshly-made creme brulee, or it might be the melting butter as it puffs up layers of pastry for the round of pies to perk up a dreary rainy Tuesday; perhaps it's an early morning and you can smell the apples and cinnamon softening and warming a batch of muffins that begged for a cup of coffee or tea as big as your head... whatever the case, you're here for the first time or even your fiftieth.
The rumors of a "devilish baker" were amusing enough, the slight woman behind the counter wearing the flour-dusted apron paying no mind. With horns like hers and a long black tail to boot, it was nothing new to be mistaken for some sort of fiend. It was simply her lot in life as a tiefling.
But would a devil slide you just one extra slab of a lemon pound cake with a smile because she noticed you'd had a rotten day? There was everything sinful, yet everything innocent about the way the icing melted on the tongue, topping soft sweet notes to the dense bites of lemony cake.
On the counter nearest the register, however, is a peculiar sign attached to a jar filled with coins: "Tippers get a song or a haiku upon request. No takebacksies."]
[I]
Oh! Sweetheart? Do excuse me, you forgot your change-
[She took a step out of the bakery to give you what you were owed. A single step. Though she knew nothing of such creatures, she ought be glad she didn't run into a Warmech. In actuality, she'd encountered a few puddings who had decided to ooze up and beg for the opportunity to test what she'd learned among the guild... but which one?
With a flourish and a laugh, a flash of light and a rush of power, she swapped her usual purples and whites for red and black. With the flick of a wrist she prepped her rapier, and with a hop she assumed a brand new stance.
She could go without being a bard for just one day. Cue the music!]
I wonder if they'll pay me overtime for pest control...
Madhuri | Original
Welcome!
[It was the cozy, curious sign outside or the smells... oh, the smells. Perhaps it was the sweet smoke of toasted sugar over freshly-made creme brulee, or it might be the melting butter as it puffs up layers of pastry for the round of pies to perk up a dreary rainy Tuesday; perhaps it's an early morning and you can smell the apples and cinnamon softening and warming a batch of muffins that begged for a cup of coffee or tea as big as your head... whatever the case, you're here for the first time or even your fiftieth.
The rumors of a "devilish baker" were amusing enough, the slight woman behind the counter wearing the flour-dusted apron paying no mind. With horns like hers and a long black tail to boot, it was nothing new to be mistaken for some sort of fiend. It was simply her lot in life as a tiefling.
But would a devil slide you just one extra slab of a lemon pound cake with a smile because she noticed you'd had a rotten day? There was everything sinful, yet everything innocent about the way the icing melted on the tongue, topping soft sweet notes to the dense bites of lemony cake.
On the counter nearest the register, however, is a peculiar sign attached to a jar filled with coins: "Tippers get a song or a haiku upon request. No takebacksies."]
[I]
Oh! Sweetheart? Do excuse me, you forgot your change-
[She took a step out of the bakery to give you what you were owed. A single step. Though she knew nothing of such creatures, she ought be glad she didn't run into a Warmech. In actuality, she'd encountered a few puddings who had decided to ooze up and beg for the opportunity to test what she'd learned among the guild... but which one?
With a flourish and a laugh, a flash of light and a rush of power, she swapped her usual purples and whites for red and black. With the flick of a wrist she prepped her rapier, and with a hop she assumed a brand new stance.
She could go without being a bard for just one day. Cue the music!]
I wonder if they'll pay me overtime for pest control...
[She gave you a wink. Are you joining in?]