The Pussycats’ Grand Day Out: Prep

[Jim Roberts]

[Feb 3 AM – The Godcarvers]

Perhaps curiously, somewhat early in the morning Captain Finfin
Finfinfin was on his own as he emerged through the curtain line from the
backstage area claimed by musicians and other shady types and crossed
over into the main Godcarver winter camp. Awaiting him were no fewer
than four priestesses.

“Good morning, Captain,” Moon Priestess Alaelia quipped brightly.

Her childhood pal and now Sybil of the Moon looked curiously at the elf.
“If I am any judge at all,” Songbird mused, “I would say he had a *very*
good morning.”

Great Medicine Woman Jeyshann nodded her silent agreement.

“I did indeed,” the elf confirmed. “And I have Josie to thank for it.”

Alaelia chuckled. “Too much information, perhaps?”

“Not in the slightest,” Finfin gently demurred. “It was Josie’s
suggestion that dear Mithi and I be able to enjoy last night together in
charming solitude.”

“Unlike your fate *tonight*?” Songbird cheerfully asked.

“What happens tonight may well be a voyage of discovery,” the elf
replied, not really succeeding in sounding enigmatic.

“Meanwhile,” Sister Erin grated, “the celibate priestess *right here*
has, of course, no idea at all just *what* ye may be on about.”

“My apologies, Sister,” Finfin stated contritely.

Erin held her glare for another moment before joining her fellow
priestesses in a round of giggling. “Och, never ye mind, Captain,” the
young Belmakian relented. “I’m just havin’ some fun with ye. I may not
*officially* approve of yer goings on, but I *do* understand them.”

Songbird blinked at the revelation. “A Belmakian? Understanding these
sorts of matters?”

Alaelia laughed. “Don’t let this one fool you, dear. Erin knows what is
what.”

“Can’t grow up a farm girl without knowing,” Sister Erin confirmed. “An’
let’s just say I took me Vows *after* learning what I was to be giving up.”

“Unlike, perhaps, her Boss,” Jeyshann growled.

“Now, now,” Alaelia interjected soothingly. “The dear man cannot help
his own shortcomings.” To Finfin, she continued, “So rather than dwell
on my current ecclesiastical superior, just where *are* the other
delightful ladies?”

Finfin glanced back towards the curtain line. “I believe they shall be
here momentarily. Tramma wished to fine tune something that would allow
the ladies to make quite a splash in Spindrift.”

Erin winced. “I almost dread what she has in mind.”

“She assured me it would be both artistic *and* practical,” Finfin replied.

“And we can use the moment this has provided,” Alaelia once again
interjected. “My dear friend Songbird has a favour to ask of you, Captain.”

The elf bowed courteously to the senior Bitani priestess. “However I may
help, ma’am.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Songbird replied easily. “I had originally planned
to use my own Divine prayers to return me back to my sanctuary in
Spindrift, taking Jeyshann with me as a passenger, allowing the two of
us to spend our own day together in the City.”

“Indeed,” Finfin agreed. “And I will be happy to bring the Great
Medicine Woman back here tomorrow morning along with the others in time
to make ready for our date with the Evil High Priest Kobold.”

“Just so,” Songbird nodded. “Only, instead of using my own Prayer, could
I presume upon your Arcane Magics to bring Jeyshann and I along with you
and the others on your transport to Spindrift this morning?”

Finfin blinked, and quickly did the simplest of sums in his head. “I
can…” he agreed. “Though two passengers will need to agree to be
carried. I have carried Mithi often enough, but we shall need a second
volunteer. But I am certainly willing. I take it this would help you?”

“More that it would help *you*,” Songbird replied. “If I arrive with you
– and especially the trio of expected weretigers – that might ease any
tensions at the landing platform. I can then assure whatever the
Government has waiting for you that our next stop will be the Grove,
where I will personally administer the prayers to reassure the
Authorities that the Pussycats *are* friends.”

“Tis a shame that allies need to be treated like that,” Sister Erin
lamented.

“A shame,” Songbird agreed, “but an understandable precaution. The Civil
and Military Authorities do have the safety of an entire city of
Imperial Subjects to look after, so I can see why as much as they might
value our Captain’s word that the Pussycats mean no harm, the
Authorities wish to have that word confirmed.”

Finfin nodded. “And anything that helps avoid an unpleasant morning by
someone’s excessive nerves is something that I wholeheartedly support.
So if there is a volunteer to physically carry a passenger while I carry
Mithi, I am certainly happy to travel together.”

Both Songbird and Jeyshann looked dubiously at each other. “I *could* do
so if there was no other alternative,” she sighed.

Alaelia chuckled at her fellow priestess. “Oh, there might well be
another volunteer more capable.” The Moon and Cat Priestess’ eyes met,
and both shared a smile.

“That is most *certainly* true,” Jeyshann agreed.

“Now, ye *will* be back in time to start a new spell preparation cycle
tomorrow?” Sister Erin prodded, and gently tapped her ever present
satchel. “I’ve a stack of plans depending on it for *tomorrow* night’s
raid on that dratted kobold.”

“I shall most certainly make a point of being on time,” Finfin promised.

Their discussion was interrupted by a muted trumpet arpeggio from the
far side of the curtain line. A moment later, the trio of Pussycats,
Mithi, and Tramma emerged, the silver haired bard holding her trumpet,
its mute still in place. All five had donned their “Tellic Schoolgirl”
uniforms, all lovingly cleaned and pressed, their hard sided shoes
positively gleaming with fresh polish.

“It really IS the Saint Trinian’s mob descending on the poor, hapless
city,” Sister Erin lamented.

“Hey, we’ve GOT to make a splash!” Tramma countered. “And anyways, like
I assured Fin, it’s also practical. If any of us get separated, the rest
can simply say that our lost lamb is dressed just like us.”

“But ye’ll be *trying* not to let anyone get lost, right?” Erin asked
shortly.

“Of course!” Tramma agreed readily. “We have too many important things
planned. Like finding some replacement Stage Magic kit for Val. Not to
mention, seeing the sights, taking in some shows, and a fine night at a
deluxe suite in a swanky hotel and casino.”

“Just be sure to not get bankrupted at that den of iniquity,” Erin
warned. “And above all, don’t be late on your return tomorrow.”

“Yes, ma’am,” five ‘schoolgirls’ chorused.

Erin glanced at Alaelia. “They’ve been practicing that, haven’t they?”

“I would imagine so,” the Moon Priestess agreed sagely.

Mithi stood before the elf and turned in place, allowing her mentor and
lover to get a good look at the schoolgirl outfit that the ladies had
all chosen.

“Wot d’ya fink?” she asked impishly, slowly turning in place to allow
the elf to admire the attention to detail in the craftsmanship… as well,
of course, how the ensemble fit Mithi’s figure. The uniform that Mithi
and the others really were, in Finfin’s admittedly inexpert eye, genuine
replicas of Tellic schoolgirl outfits, simply resized to fit people who
the elf happened to know were NOT underage girls.

Unlike a costume designed to be a parody of a schoolgirl uniform in some
sleazy burlesque show, the outfits the ladies were wearing were
*faithful* copies. And that meant that they in no way were at *all*
revealing; only perhaps the slightest bit of skin around the kneeline
was visible between the hemline of the tartan skirts and the top of
their tall socks. And any other curves were well concealed beneath stout
blazers, blouses, and skirts, the fashion not at all designed to
accentuate what was beneath. Demure straw hats completed the collection,
nicely complimenting the modest ponytails each of the ladies had chosen
for the day.

However, Finfin was gifted with a well trained memory, which coupled
with a reasonable imagination allowed him to well envision what the
uniforms were most effectively concealing. For not just Mithi, but also
for Tramma and the trio of Pussycats. That extra information added a
definite appeal that the same clothing on a perfect stranger – and
*especially* on a genuine underage schoolgirl – would have lacked.

“It is quite breathtaking,” the elf stated with fervent honesty.

Next to the mages, Tramma chuckled. “Bet he’d say that if you were
wearing anything, or nothing,” the bard predicted.

“Absolutely true,” Finfin admitted. “But that truth does not diminish my
esteem for the clothing, and of the lady wearing it,” he concluded with
a genuine smile. The smile, however, turned slightly wistful as his gaze
flicked towards the waiting Pussycats.

Both Tramma and Mithi caught the slight change in the elven wizard’s
expression. Tramma turned away to their fellow travellers, calling their
attention to an invented last minute detail, while Mithi gently took
Finfin aside.

“Yer not concerned about *tomorrow* night wif that big showdown and the
Big Bad Kobold?” she asked quietly.

Finfin snorted. “No. While it is not *impossible* that tomorrow night’s
raid will be a disaster, I have faith that the Abbot’s Commune question
before we launch would warn us about that possibility.”

“Unless,” Mithi added dolefully, “the Sky King wants a shakeup in ‘Is
clergy.” Her voice was steady, but the light in her eyes suggested that
she saw just how ridiculous that possibility was.

Finfin’s answering smile met her own. “No, that is not a credible concern.”

“So yer worried about today?” the young mage asked softly. “Finking of
several fings that can go wrong?”

Finfin nodded, unwilling to conceal anything from his apprentice. “I
am,” he confessed. “No fewer than five ways where things can go wrong
today, starting as soon as we arrive.” More quietly, he added, “And the
larger concern is that this would disappoint our friends and ruin what
should be their Big Day Out. And by extension, disappoint you.”

Mithi, however, shook her head. “Stuff,” she replied firmly. “Oi bet
most of them fings that COULD go wrong don’t have nuffink ta do wif you.
Like if the Imperial Bureaucracy stuffs fings up getting the Pussycats’
paperwork, or we not bein’ able ta find any ov Val’s Stage Magic gear,
or the concert that Tramma found for us cancels, or all of the lotsa
fings that can ALWAYS go wrong.”

The elf considered, and nodded. “Let us say that four out of five of the
most apparent possible pitfalls I foresee are as you describe.”

“So there’s no WAY them Pussycats can be disappointed in YOU if any of
‘em ‘appen,” Mithi pointed out reasonably. “You’ve already done yer
best; if fings stuff up, yeah, they’ll be disappointed, but not in YOU.”

“Thank you,” the elf answered sincerely.

Mithi, however, only chuckled. “And lemme guess. That one remaining fing
where you worry you MIGHT be directly responsible fer disappointing ‘em?
That’d be maybe tonight?”

“It is as you say,” the elf agreed.

Mithi’s chuckle grew into a full laugh. “So, if yer interested in an
*experienced* opinion there?” At the elf’s nod, the apprentice
cheerfully continued, “Trust me, Fin, Oi fink you’ll do *fine*. An’
you’ll ‘ave lotsa ‘elp.”

“Thank you,” he repeated.