Rotating Towers: Dovecote

[muckefuck]

Calanar: Oh, I'm not looking forward to this...
Page: Open your eyes, Magus!
Extended pause.
Page: Have you nothing to say?
Calanar: It's very...white.
Page: Regard the floor.
Calanar: It's...all...dusty.
Morgan: That's no ordinary dust! Take some in your hand and let it fall.
Calanar does so.
Morgan: See how it shimmers?
Calanar: It's nacrous.
Morgan: [nods] Remember those chests of fine pearls we found in the keep?
Calanar: Several hundred perfectly shaped ocean pearls of outstanding size and beauty--
Morgan: --ground up so that your feet must never touch the cold ground! How luxurious is that!
Calanar is struck dumb.
Page: Did you notice the mithral panels on the walls?
Calanar: Mithral? But why are they all...scratched?
Morgan: Oh, that was Master Smocopacco's idea.
Calanar: Whose?
Morgan: Dicco Smocopacco. He's a tapester from Willip. Quite famous there for designing dens of absolute luxury. This technique you see...er...what did he call it?
Page: "Distressing".
Morgan: Yes! This "distressing", it's all the rage among the smarter set. Not easy to do to mithral, let me tell you!
Calanar: What other wonderful ideas did our "master" tapester have?
Morgan: Where to begin! See those large alabaster basins?
Calanar: Um...I do.
Morgan: Gaze inside.
Calanar does and his eyes widen.
Morgan: Purest quicksilver! Oh, and all the draperies? Finest antique Oeridian lace!
Calanar: So many yards? A small fortune! But...the finest Oeridian lace isn't snowy white; it has a delicate cream colour of surpassing clarity acquired slowly over the course of centuries--
Morgan: Yes, yes, that's how the came. But when we hung them, Master Dicco said they didn't look...fitting. How did he put it? Next to the whiteness of the walls, they looked "dingy". So we bleached them--
Calanar lets out a terrible moan.
Morgan: After all, we all know how you value cleanliness!
Page: Speaking of the walls, Magus, do they please you?
Calanar: Why are they...flaking?
Morgan: Ha ha! Those aren't flakes!
Calanar: Feathers? Ye Gods, the dust!
A dark look crosses Calanar's face.
Please tell me they aren't dove feathers!
Morgan: Nothing so common! There's a rare species of bird found in these parts called the "snow warbler". Tiny things, too.
Calanar: Oh. My. Heavens.
He buries his face in his hands.
Morgan: Do you have any idea how many of those little things--
Calanar: No, don't tell me!
Morgan: Well, it's a lot. It would've taken forever to collect enough if I hadn't made creative of use wall of--
Calanar: Please, PLEASE don't tell me!
Morgan: --force. But come, do stretch your hand out and feel them!
Morgan passes his hand over the wall.
Calanar: No...that's alright...
Morgan: Soft as clouds! A thousand times finer than eiderdown! Nothing's too good for our friend Calanar!
Calanar stifles a sob.
Page: Do you know where they got the inspiration for this room?
Calanar: Demogorgon?
Morgan: No, silly, the Wingèd Dove!
Calanar begins weeping without restrain.
Page: He's overcome with emotion!
Morgan: A success beyond our wildest dreams!
Next week on Rotating Towers: Ravenloft, or, None more black!