Building a Better Mousetrap [Maddyn?]

[Klue Malinconico]

Late spring, Era XI

Some folks say that necessity is the mother of invention. Maybe. But in Klue’s case, it was more a matter of having too much idle time on his hands, and a mind bent to mischief, added the occasional disaster, when that particular condition plagued him. A menace, an overgrown kid, a danger to himself and others, his father…sort of, had complained after a failed and rather explosive attempt to illuminate the outdoor privy from the warmth and comfort of the front parlor. An inventive mind…a gadgeteer’s mind, his mother had argued, for the possibility that a more practical mind wouldn’t bother with innovation, where matter-of-fact thinking too often got in the way and bogged down the process. And sometimes, Klue himself would argue, accidents…explosive or otherwise, were the true mother of invention.

But of the current notions rattling around in his thoughts, explosions weren’t likely. In truth though, ‘overgrown kid’ might come close to accurate. He’d a nature attracted to the whimsical, the odd curiosity, the thrill of narrowly escaping the loss of life and limb…Bringing to mind his determination that one brightening, he’d find an assistant willing enough to help him test the Allerian GnomeChuck.

But necessity too. His newest inspiration addressed three or more of them, combined in a singular solution of sorts. The plans had been scribbled on a tattered piece of yellowed parchment, that crumpled and shoved into the pocket of his brown woolen trousers. Now he only needed a workshop. Tools and supplies too. And naturally, someone to provide those at little or no cost to Klue. A partner of sorts, that had an equal interest in innovation, but would leave the near boy to his own devices without sticking his nose too deep into the process.

Still cold for late spring, and so in addition to the woolen trousers, he wore an equally woolen tunic of off-white…Likely it was white once. Over that, his regiment issued bearskin cloak and similarly issued boots laced over his trousers to mid-calf. On his head, and pushed back from his face, he wore a beaver felt, square crowned bowler.

Wishing for warmer brightenings, he eventually came across just the place he was looking for and after stepping inside and shutting the door behind him after a boyish grin and a tip of his hat tossed to the woman sweeping the stoop, he stomped the muddy slush from his feet and looked for the owner…His future financier, if he played his cards right.

This place, after all, should be able to provide everything he was looking for.

Standing just outside the Bazaar's great expanse, the Furniture Barn was a well-kept, clean shop, though it was obviously its namesake--a barn. A rather large, husky woman stood outside, sweeping the stoop free of dust, animals, and any other objects foreign to the floor of the shop.

She stops and greets you with a warm smile, gesturing mutely with one hand that you are to enter, if you so choose. A keen intelligence can be found in her cobalt-coloured eyes, though she will never speak a word to anyone, she makes it known that she is not impaired in any other way.

Once entering the shop, you are suprised and delighted to see the fine array of furniture located within, plush sofas and chairs were commanplace here, as well as leather upholstered furniture. Cushy, overly cushioned works of art, they are priced to sell, bed mattresses line one wall, almost beckoning you to come and try them out to see how soft and comfortable they are.

Walking through the door of a dividing wall, all types of wood furniture and dining suites make themselves known to you, fine cherry, oak, mahogany, and even pine furnishings could be found here. Elegantly carved, some of them were simpler in terms of both craftsmanship and price, but the integrity of the work remained the same--all were sturdy and well-built, these were constructed to last a lifetime, if not more.

A kindly looking old gentleman stops his work in the back of the shop once he notices you, wiping his hands quickly on a cloth he keeps on the counter for just such a purpose, he approaches you with a wide grin, speaking in a clear, friendly manner.

"Serale, friend, what can I do for you on this fine day?"

The array and quality of the furniture impressed him, sure. But not for the usual reason. He didn’t need any, hanging his hat in regiment barracks as he did. No, the quality implied a good workshop and plenty of supplies. And so when the old fellow approached him, Klue slipped into a polite regard for his elders, taught to him by his grandmother, by way of a leather strap.

He pulled off his hat, and immediately regretted stomping off the muck of his boots in the entry. ”S’rale, sir. A fine place ye have here. Th’ craftsmanship is admirable. Well, I was wonderin’ if ye might have some extra workshop space ye might consider lettin’ for a cycle or two. An’ tools t’ let as well as scraps of unused wood and such. Ye see, I’ve some learnin’ in gadgeteerin’, a little experience in carpentry, currently trainin’ in the PMR. But I’d like t’ get back t’ workin’ with my hands some,” he added, hoping to appeal to the man’s likely ability to sympathize with a fellow craftsman. It was a rather loose term, applied to himself…especially in the area of carpentry…But worth a try.

[Maddyn]

Ever since Pirvan Kaldres has saught to buy the business, everything had seemed to spiral down in fortunes until everything seemed so dismal for the elderly Carpenter. Business was drying up, the trade routes themselves almost entirely cut off all because of Mystique, Zinn Sunn and most recently High Peak as well. In short, Frigid River was being killed off through it's sheer positioning in the Empire and there was just too many problems to deal with any any given point in time. Not at least until the Imperium and the Lylles enforced Order within their own Kingdom. But such was life, not everything could be helped.

Glancing up from his work when Klue entered and giving a simple greeting, almost instantly his expression turned towards something of utter bemusement. Crowns after all were becomming hard to come by when business and trade were so horrible, and so the answer really was decided for the Carpenter for him. If only out of a necessity in wishing to remain alive. "Aye there lad, there's room, tools and offcuts you can be hiring if you wish there though I'd be rathering if you just used the far corner out back and you pay for any damages... two cycles you say?"

"Well, how about 100 gold crowns a cycle, you pay for what you break... and do be careful lad. I'll be needing to see your Visa just ta be on the safe side, copy some details... can't have you blowing the place up and running off now..." he continued with a soft chuckle as he easily took a conversationalists tone."Old McPhearson ends up blowing up his workshop down the street every couple of cycles, arcana, potions and those gadget thingies... he'd be the best person mind around here when looking for supplies... but my workshop out back's there for usage." And it really was as easy as that, misfortune might've plagued Frigid River but there always was a silver lining somewhere.

[Klue Malinconico]

”Aye, two cycles at th’ most. And th’ damages…O’ course. There won’t be any though,” the young human readily added, assured he’d snagged himself a workshop and supplies, if not a financier. Still, he was holding out for the latter, even after the cost was proposed.

The quote did stall his enthusiasm however, the rest of the fellow’s words falling on somewhat distracted ears. It wasn’t so much that he didn’t have it. But that he didn’t want to part with it. He’d grown up with nothing. Hand to mouth and barely that on a useless patch of land hard pressed to support his family of mother and father, grandmother and four sisters. And himself of course. That he tended to hoard his funds, gained lawfully or not…not surprising.

But recalling the rest of it, Klue retrieved his tattered and bent visa from his pocket and handed it over with a reassuring word. ”Aww no sir. There’ll be no explosions. No chance of that with th’ gadget I’ve in mind. Just bits of wood, hinges and springs…Th’ like. Besides, it’s only happened once. A small one mind ye, and no damage done.” Never mind that the mishap had leveled the privy and the nearby chicken coop. More than leveled, judging by the small crater left behind by th former. But no harm done really, the effects were only heard by the next farm over. ”Ye see…there was a small flaw in th’ d’sign, and well, I didn’t count on…” He stopped there, realizing belatedly that the less said of it, the better.

Then again…Klue paused as his mind raced, mostly forgetting the shopkeeper’s presence in the process. That his expression showed the signs of belated revelation, not unlikely. An indication of innovation brewing. It had been too complicated, and the solution was simple. Too simple, like the plans for the more novel gadget crumpled up in his pocket…No, it would work, he thought with a curious grin. And it would be far better, for what he had in mind of a sudden. Truth was, his thinking had been too complicated, yet not near big enough in scale for the possibilities.

And this fellow had mentioned gadgets, arcana and potions. Didn’t need any of those for the novelty, and that could be fashioned in less than a brightening anyway. But for the other…A simple design might be all the more innovative for their addition, expecially if he’d the right input from another gadgeteer...Even without them, it would work. But better with. He’d be a wealthy man. And if he could convince others of the same, then there’d be less from his pocket.

He frowned, for the fact that it was indeed an obstacle. ”A hundred crowns, ye say? It’s a lot, sir. I’m livin’ on regiment pay at only 35 crowns a cycle t’ cover my needs and…” Klue paused deliberately and seemed to think on his, scratching at the soft bristles on his chin. ”M’be we can work somethin’ out? Ye see, I’ve…two gadgets in mind. One is little more than a curious notion, but a useful one just th’ same. But th’ other, sir…I’m convinced…It will put Frigid River on th’ map sir, if I can only gain th’ supplies and space t’ design it. B’tween you and me, it could change bright’nin’ t’ bright’nin’ life throughout the very empire.”

His fervor, added a rather wild-eyed visage, was growing and he fidgeted with the brim of his hat as he considered the possibilities. ”Th’ impact and demand would be enormous, and th’ first of this innovation would be here in Frigid River, ye see? And you, sir, would have th’ first of it still, here in your own shop. At no charge, o’ course. Of both gadgets…But it could make a fortune and…What if I were t’ offer ye a portion of that? Say…two percent on th’ sale of each unit, were it t’ prove successful?” Whatever his plans, he was as sure as he could be of impending success, but would resist revealing just what those plans were. That was for the unveiling, should success not manage somehow to evade him.

[Maddyn]

It might've gone just a little bit better for Klue's methods of haggling if he'd completely bypassed the incident regarding the privvy. Just when the elderly Carpenter looked like he could be swayed into being somewhat more lenient into lowering the hiring fee for his workshop... it changed. And as quickly as a Faerie on suger turned into a frown that seemed all the more serious due to his elderly nature and some of the more permanent frown lines. Only stubborn pride prevented him from completely renegging on Klue's request and kicking him out of his shop.

Explosions indeed!

"What the feth?!" he muttered softly with more than the normal amount of distress in his voice. He'd refused to part ownership before after Pirvan Kaldres most rude offer... and the risks of Klue blowing the place kingdom come really wasn't something the retired soldier wanted. Especially when this was his livelihood, his retirement until Jalat's hand claimed him and he got whatever the Gods and Goddess felt were in store for the Aslanite. "Explosions indeed, by Diana you're going to be paying the whole amount if you're be wanting to make use of me workshop if we're dealing with the risks of having to rebuild the place." the rest of the muttering really was difficult to here and for the main a collective of insults through to a wondering about the younger generation these brightenings.

Shaking his head and folding his arms across his chest, soldier or no that just meant to the Carpenter that he had someone in front of him who was all the more likely to be trouble. Fondly he'd enjoyed his evenings off in the tavern... and at the end of his twenty patterns of service realised he'd had nothing to show for it other than some old chainmail, a rusted sword and more knowledge about woodworks and building hasty forts and defenses than most could acclaim. Apprenticed to the old Master Carpenter at an age of fourty eight... no, Bhaer wasn't going to gamble things so easily.

"Same price lad as mentioned or you'll have ta be finding yourself another place there - Frigid River's already on the map and there's one in the old Aedile's Office if you're be doubting my word on that particular matter. 100 a cycle, and up front payment this time... explosions indeed; feth, and here I'd been thinking about wood costs and maybe a banged up saw or something. If everything's in order when you're done though lad well..." he paused, greatly considering this point as the only concession to be made willingly. "If everything's in order, we'll make it 70gc a cycle... if not, well I'll tan your hide there lad and you'll be working off any damages."

[Klue Malinconico]

Klue enjoyed some small dose of optimism, however brief, that he might have just found him a financier of sorts. Or at least, someone willing to help limit the number of crowns he’d have to produce from his own pocket. But, as it turned out now and again, his mouth got ahead of his brain and he mucked it up. He really had to get a handle on that. Too late to backtrack really and explain that naturally, that would not happen in this case, given the nature of his current plans. Mostly unlikely, anyway.

Instead, hat in hand and with a good try at youthful repentance, an attempted visage of…Honest, I'll be no trouble at all sir, he was forced to listen to the old man go on about the improbable. Where was this fellow’s imagination? Here was no patron of innovation to be sure…Where was his entrepreneurial spirit? Didn’t the old man know what Klue was offering? The opportunity he was missing out on? He could retire a wealthy man in a very short time if Klue’s idea panned out. It would be more than a gadget…unlike the first idea…It would be something no fine manor should be without. No shop, no government building or palace…Despite his position, he grinned slightly as more inspiration came his way. The possibilities went beyond even that, now didn’t they?

Map… He was yanked back to the problem at hand and frowned. ”T'wasn’t exactly wha…” He stopped himself this time. But up front? Klue thought about it, eventually concluding that paying the fellow seventy crowns now, or a hundred at worst, would cost him far less than giving him a share of the eventual profit. Even considering the supplies he’d have to buy. Given this new idea, he was doubtful he’d find all he needed in a carpenter’s work shop. He’d have to pay a visit to this McPhearson fellow he’d heard mention of. Maybe even purchase a gadgeteer’s toolbox if there was one to be had.

So deciding, he dug into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out a wad of wrinkled notes, sorting out the sum of one hundred before stuffing the rest back from whence they’d come. ”Aye, it’s a deal then. I’m thinkin’ I might only need it for a cycle though. Not sure just yet,” he added, and handed the notes over. ”S’ when can I start usin’ it then sir?” Now that the plans were scattered round in his mind and in need of organizing, he was eager to get to it.

[Maddyn]

Inspecting the notes, it wasn't intended as a slight on Klue's own standing as a honest person. Not intentional as such at least even if the old Carpenter was going through each and every detail as if they were some brilliant forgery. It was just that he happened to know soldiers and their behaviour, and wasn't inclined to take risks when business was in such a dreadful lull. What the town needed was a nice good fire, something that wouldn't damage most of the buildings foundations and walls while giving the Carpenter plenty of business in regards to roofing and new furnature.
Not that he'd ever wish for something that dreadful, Aetheria no!

"After the bell for the Gates to be closing for the eve, you can have the entire Workshop for your usage each brightening from then till dawn Lad and I'll be expecting every tool back in it's proper place when you be done. And all offcuts and the like stored too... nothing tardy, no mess there lad." the Carpenter mused, nodding as te notes seemed more or less correct regardless of whatever they might really be. Paranoid? Suspicious? Damn right - he was after all considering the risks of his shop being blown up here by something unfortunately. "You can store everything in one of the empty cupboards, just let me know which one so I don't toss things come mornir' alright?"

OOC:
Workshop and tools are yours to play with, describe as you wish ^_^

Cheers, Maddyn

[Klue Malinconico]

One hand in the pocket of his trousers, the other gripping the brim of his hat, Klue waited patiently while the old man inspected the notes. Offended? Not him. He’d have done the same. Did, in fact, when he collected his pay every cycle.

And as for the timing allowed to use the workshop, it pleased him more than the alternative. Certainly the regiment would expect him around during the brightening, and would wonder where he’d gone off to otherwise. He did his best work in the darkening anyway, when no one was around to look over his shoulder and get their noses in the way. And though the young man favored chaos in a workshop…He’d a mind that thrived on it, in fact, the fellow needn’t have worried about him storing his work at the least. Under lock, if he could manage one. He was secretive by nature, didn’t care for the notion of someone poking through what wasn’t ready to be unveiled yet.

So though he still viewed the fellow as a fool for not taking him up on the opportunity he’d offered in partnership, he grinned and shoved his hat back on his head. ”Right,” Klue agreed, offering his hand to finish the bargain. ”Ye’ll have no trouble from me sir." Nevermind that those who knew him, tended to view such a statement as a sure sign of impending mischief. ”Back after the bell then.” he added as he bid the man farewell and went on his way.

*******

As agreed, the red-headed soldier/gadgeteer returned after the bell, two scribbled sets of plans in the pocket of his trousers, his hat tilted back on his head. The hat was a recent addition…but he thought better with it on.

And after letting himself into the workshop and lighting a lamp or two, he had a good look around. It was that look, and the addition of a new plan that he’d decided was bloody brilliant, that made him realize that most of what he needed, he wouldn’t find here. Sure, a few scraps of wood and tools, a few screws and hinges and space to work. But he’d need a list…A long one, and a visit to this Eimile fellow next brightening. Such was the perceived brilliance of this inspired innovation, that it was a hard won challenge to wait. But till then, he could work a bit on the original notion…and that bit of it where his talents didn’t necessarily lie.

The near boy was no carpenter. But he could build a box, and he’d need a few of them. So he explored the place, securing himself a hammer and a handful of small nails, along with a fine toothed saw and large but thin pieces of wood. Whether these sheets of wood qualified as scraps or not was neither here nor there to Klue, though the owner might see things different. But genius couldn’t be bothered with the details.

He set himself to work at the bench, struggling with the unfamiliar saw…thus starting over a few times with a new sheet of wood. But eventually, he’d managed a handful of rectangular panels along with four lengths with beveled edges that he might nail together to make a framed door of sorts. The panels would form two boxes in the end. One of them six inches wide by four inches tall with the front left open to attach a hinged door that opened top to bottom. The other, five inches wide by three inches tall. The beveled lengths would form the frame for the door to the larger box. Later, he’d attach that door and saw a round hole in the top of the box.

But for now, the pieces were assembled into not so fancy boxes, toiled over with hammer and nails, with hands that were too large for such detailed work. An expression of intense concentration marked Klue’s young face…a yelp or string of oaths kept him company when the hammer went astray. And a few candlemark’s before dawn, after cleaning up his mess and storing his work, wrapping a bit of cloth round his thumb and reworking plans, struggling through a list, he doused the lamps and was off to the regiment, followed by a bid to secure the items on a list that had grown more lengthy the more he thought about it.

*******

McPhearson’s Magical Wonderful

The building had been around for some time now, likely a good four or five Era's at the very least if not more - sometimes it was hard for people to remember the small details about this place as if it was trying to evade detection just in case the wrong sort of person began to pay too much attention to it. Rather, it didn't quite seem to have been built, but rather just having appeared...surely..the place had always existed...hadn't it? Any attempts to figure otherwise were always met with vague doubts and a certain notion that they might have left the stove on or lost their housekey and so quickly became otherwise distracted.

Small, quiet and inconspicious to the point where it was suspicious, like a big "Don't look here!" sign pointed directly at the place, but written in another language and so important...but foreign. Weird. Built from grey hewn granite and constructed into two stories, the place beheld the usual architexutal designs found within Frigid River and yet, there was something Archadoonian about it - a gothic feel as hideous gargoyles that appeared far too real seemed to watch every moment that was made about them.

Upon entering one can see things thrown across this end of the shop and the other. Shelves stuffed to bursting, and cases that look like if one more item was to be placed in them it may burst from the additional weight.

Just then you are greeted by a small gnome. "Welcome, I am Eimíle McPhearson. Welcome to my little shop of wonders." The little gnome says with a smile. "What can I be doing for you?"

It was mid brightening and next brightening when Klue took a self-proclaimed break from his duties to look up the shop that had been referred to last brightening. If such a place existed, it was a wonder he hadn’t discovered it sooner. He had a nose for places like that. Nevertheless, he’d find it now, and if he was lucky, fill a list that was growing longer, the longer he thought about it.

And when he did find it, after backtracking a few times and a nudge to the odd pedestrian now and again, he stepped inside and took in the wonder of it all. Chaos…and the sort of place he could spend a cycle in, rummaging around for the obvious, and turning it into something else entirely. Then just when he was about to satisfy his curiosity on his own, the small gnome appeared and Klue grinned, sweeping the hat from his head. A gnome…Expected somehow, fortunate for the knowledge they seemed to have by inheritance alone, and better yet, of a race that the young man fancied that when his current projects were completed, he might just build another prototype of the gnomechuck and convince this fellow to take a part in testing it out.

But for now, there was the list. He pulled it from the pocket of his regiment uniform, crumpled like the plans before it, and leaned over to hand it to the gnome. ”S’rale there. Tis a fine place ye have here. M’ name’s Klue and I was wonderin’ if ye might be able t’ supply the things on this list.” As for possible changes to the plans that might need input or expertise to add a magical component to replace the more traditional ones, that could wait till he’d discovered if the thing worked at all.

*Section of flattened wire mesh with small openings- six by four inches (ooc: like a section of a small square cage meant to hold very small birds or rodents)

*gadgeteer’s toolbox

*polished tube-wood or metal-four feet tall-2 inch diameter

*springed hinges with mounting plates like the sort that go on self closing doors-very small ones (a dozen)

*scissor-style x-spring hinges-very small (half a dozen) *or* tiny springs and flat bits of metal that fit together x-style with a small rotating screw to allow movement

*assortment of very small gears, screws, rods and cranks, including one rack and pinion assembly

*small pieces of steel and flint. (half a dozen)

*small oil lamps-wall mounted variety (three)

*lamp oil-slow to burn, quick to light

*thin but sturdy twine

*very small candle snuffers (three)

[Klue Malinconico]

It was a long debate that followed between young man and gnome. And tireless, though likely more for the human who had a nature given to it. That he didn’t want to part with the necessary crowns was a given…though there was a notion that at least one of his plans would make that a very small investment for a world of profit. And of course, the usual inquiries of just what he was up to, given the odd nature of his list, followed by the stubborn refusal to yield any more than vague explanations or a secretive shrug. All in good time, that shrug implied well enough while the gnome grumbled and sorted through his shop of wonders, casting a suspicious glance at Klue now and again…along with the lift of a bushy eyebrow begging the inevitable question…Were regiment soldiers so ill occupied that they had time mid-brightening to tinker with odd notions?

In the end, the debate yielded a minimum of satisfaction…more for the supplies than the gadgeteer’s toolbox. Rarer item, hard to come by, a professional’s tool, the fellow insisted with little room for debate. But Klue had plans beyond these two plans crumpled up in his pocket. He was bent on having the tools at hand if ever those plans bothered to reveal themselves. And so having managed a crate to carry his supplies in and four hundred crowns poorer, Klue bid the gnome good brightening, and was off to store his bounty in the barracks till last bell.

Later

Just before darkening, his regiment uniform traded for loose trousers and a red silk shirt, scuffed boots and his bowler, Klue slipped back into the workshop. He had his purchases from earlier that brightening…And in addition to that, he’d an old grease stained copy of the herald wrapped tightly around something so pungent and distasteful in odor, it could be naturally assumed to be leftovers from the pracenda typically served up in the mess hall. No doubt, what was thrown out the back door after attracted it’s share of stray cats and mice…and that was just his aim, after all.

So setting his supplies aside, the young man unwrapped his bait, a call to co-conspirators if you will, and scattered bits of pungent cheese around the floor of the workshop, as well as a few crumbled pieces atop a cabinet that ran the length of one wall. Three feet in height, he’d guess, but with various boxes along one end that would make climbing little challenge for the odd and mildly determined mouse. The rest of the herald, he unrolled and set just inside the door to the workshop, that he’d left ajar…and would remain so while he worked through the darkening. Some sort of stew, mostly a sorry excuse for meat drenched in a sorrier excuse for gravy. Should attract a stray cat or two, he figured. A dog, he’d have to chase away.

And so leaving the invitation open and hoping for takers so to avoid having to go out and hunt them down, the near boy lit a lamp in the far corner of the workshop, and pulled a stool up to the workbench to fashion his first gadget. This, the simpler and less critical of his set of plans. The other would take a cycle or so, and more complicated by far. At any rate, the two boxes built the previous darkening were set in front of him and with a sharp blade and a fine toothed saw, eventually there were two holes cut. One in the top of one box, one in the bottom of the smaller. Then taking the door frame of the larger box, he attached the cage screen he’d purchased within the frame like a screen door. A small wooden handle he’d found in the workshop was screwed into the top of the door, two springed hinges attached the bottom of it to the bottom of the box. The result would be a box with a hole in the top, and a door along the front that opened easily top to bottom with the flick of a finger, or the paw of a medium sized cat, and sprung closed when released.

Once that was done, Klue turned his attention to the smaller box that would go on the top of his contraption. The hole cut in the bottom was nearer one end than it was to the center. In fact, there was only a very narrow ridge left between the edge of the hole and the side of the box. Not enough, he’d decided, for a mouse to leap across and manage any balance. It would have to trod across that hole, he concluded…or hoped. And removing the lid he’d made for the box, he cut himself a circlet of thin wood just smaller than the hole he’d cut. Another springed hinge attached that over the hole so that when the slightest pressure or weight was applied, the door would swing down and in, before returning to it’s previous position. A trap door, if you will, that was polished slick and acted quick. He tested the theory by dropping a nail on the trap…and was satisfied enough that it would do when the nail dropped to the floor. On the other narrow end of the box, he cut a small hole, large enough for a good sized mouse to wander through.

The boxes readied, the human tilted his hat back on his head and collected the tube he’d purchased. And after making a few adjustments per the size of the holes in each box, he fixed one end of the tube in the hole at the top of one box, the other end into the bottom of the other. The result would be a box with a round tube connecting it to another, but roughly three feet higher. To check things over again, he fiddled with the trap door again, making sure it would swing easily down without catching on the rim of the tube, and that it would still swing back up easily as well.

So taking this contraption in hand, Klue carried it to the counter and after sliding a bit of wood beneath the lower box and the floor to make up for a small miscalculation, he fixed it so that the smaller box sat squarely on the edge of the cabinet, connected by the tube to the smaller one below. And lastly, after removing the bits of cheese from the length of the cabinet, though he’d hope there were fewer of them by now if anyone had answered his call…He removed the lid of the box and pressed a bit of the cheese along the narrow edge of the box beyond the trap door, and replaced the lid. So having finished this bit of the process, he discarded what was left of the cheese and the stew, but left the greasy herald crumpled inside the open door of the workshop. He left that open.

This was the tricky part, Klue knew, as he searched the workshop for any sign of helpers. The cat was important, but the lack of one would simply mean testing only the first bit of his gadget, and fetching one next brightening to complete the experiment. The mice were critical though, and harder to tell if he’d attracted any at all. Time would tell. And still, he’d worked the better part of the darkening and staying put to observe wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice. And if he couldn’t observe it working, he’d never really know if it did, or if there were adjustments to be made. Tricky part, indeed. So extinguishing the lamp he’d worked by, he settled himself in a dark and far corner to wait till dawn.

In his mind, Klue reasoned in order to distract himself from candlemarks of waiting, the contraption would address several problems. First, a mousetrap…That was straightforward enough and would have justified a far simpler design. And a waste of his efforts, far as he was concerned. Then there were those who favored house cats to keep the mouse population down. Usually women, in his mind. A fellow would just drop poison around and save himself the unpleasant and temperamental company. But then there was the lazy and spoiled house cat. Sure, she’d dispatch and make a meal of a mouse if one happened to fall between her paws, or bat a trapped one around…but not lower herself to doing the hunting or trapping. And beyond that, there was the problem of having the cat fed while one went adventuring. This would save a neighbor having to drop by, he reasoned.

So, mouse smells cheese smeared on the inside of the top box and wanders in. Can’t jump across the trap door made almost invisible anyway in the dark of the box and the match of the colors of wood and close fit. Can’t reach across either…This, he realized, saved the need to replenish the bait between mice…They’d never make it that far. As it was though, as soon as the mouse put his weight on the trap door, it would swing down and send him dropping through the polished tube, depositing him into the larger box below. Screen door made it easy for a cat to check and see after the habit had been developed, plus the inevitable scrabbling around to escape. So cat comes along, learns to paw at the handle to pull the door down, snags his mouse…and he’s a meal ready for the taking. And once released, the door would shut itself, ready for the next mouse to come along.

There you had it, Klue thought with a hopeful grin…Automatic mousetrap/holiday cat feeder.

[Maddyn]

It was an interesting contraption, one that would've gotten a raised eyebrow from quite a few people in Frigid River who thought Klue mad for concocting such an idea. But madness had a way of paying off rather well when it resulted in certain ideas like this, well formulated, handy and quite a bit safer than poisons and most other traps for keeping rodents down. There was a small but significant number of children who didn't pay heed to the warning not to put food on the ground in ones mouth; and an almost identical number of fatalities from ingesting poison. Chelsey's happened to be the worst pests however, nevermind Rats and Mice.

Typically found within Arium and the Great Mountains, because of Frigid River's location they alas were one of the downsides of the towns location.

Working away and leaving the two pieces of food; it seemed Klue managed to gain his helpers after all. Unlike typical vermin, Chesley's had little to no qualms about people and this kind of cat didn't have anything to fear short of a Necrotaur. Maybe. The kind of cat only little old Ladies in their eighties can keep close and consider cute and cuddly. Ignoring both bad hygriene problems and smells associated with sewer systems in the process. The smell hit Klue like a cannonball in the face; rotting cheese and something like a month old corpse.

A black thing about a foot in length, it was only black by default of it's fur rather than actual colouring. All muscle and scar tissue as if it'd been in fights since a kitten and probably run over by a cart, savaged by a few wolves and had a habit of outstaring Hellbears. It's tail was short only because it'd bee cut off; it's ears were ragged and torn and it really did look like it could do quite a bit of damage if not treated carefully. And immersed happily within the dredges and remaining apsects of the food Klue left out. Much more intent in that than the Chelsey, an eight legged rat nibbling on the cheese without a care in the world... and doing something unsanitary afterwards involding it's own personal body's decision to dispose of certain liquidic properties.

Probably not a good idea for Klue to touch the cheese let alone eat. But, at least Klue had his helpers for the Cat Feeder/Mousetrap.

[Klue Malinconico]

Truth told, gainfully employed as he was, Klue wouldn’t have noticed the arrival of his partners in innovation, if not for the smell that sent his eyes to watering and made breathing ill advised. If only it were optional. He’d been wrong. There was something worse than the smell of mess hall cooking. Or the noxious fumes that tended to follow later those darkenings in the barracks, announced loudly from the top bunk courtesy of Kagner. And often followed by a worthy and admirable challenge from another, if one was given to that sort of comradely competition. Not him. He was an officer. A gentleman. Above such things.

Whatever the case, a cautious glance aside confirmed that the thing’s looks justified it’s smell. He couldn’t say he’d ever come across a Chesley, but he’d vow it was the ugliest cat he’d ever seen. The young human wasn’t particularly a cat person himself. Opportunistic, manipulative buggers. If someone had run it down with a cart, he’d wager they’d done it on purpose. He would have. As it was, he’d mind his own business and hope the thing did the same. It didn’t look like a fellow used to losing gracefully.

As for the rat…eight legs made him wonder if there was something in the sewers to be concerned about, where those fumes made their way to cobbled streets. In the end though, he decided that the rodent was as good as two of him, for the number of his legs. He’d frowned as he’d finished up and discarded what extra food he could, having come across a moment of indecision. The Chesley could have his greasy scrap of Herald, Klue thought charitably. And the morsel of cheese left behind…a brief inspection left it sitting on the counter. He knew little about mice and their appetites, but would have to count on them being gluttons in the hope that the cheese in the already set trap would attract it soon enough, and he could test his device.

And so having snuffed the lamp, he sat in his dark corner and watched, waited and wondered, given the look of that Chesley, if he might have been wise to bring his sword. In it’s absence, he found himself a hammer and a knife meant for scoring bits of wood. Of the door, he’d like to have closed it to keep the two from wandering away, but seeing one of his cohorts was dining in front of it, he’d leave it be for now.

[Maddyn]

Time was something Klue was going to have to live with, and the wasting thereof considering the Chelsey was taking it's Diana-forsaken time about taking the cheese. Just as the cat that looked as if killing it would be doing Telath a favour was finishing off the meal Klue had given it. Padding it's way inside that little bit so to get out of the cold before washing itself. Admittedly, for the cat to ever truely be clean it'd have to be shaved first and then scrubbed with a wire brush. An alchemists acid bath could be a favourable method directly after this just to make sure before someone took an iron nailfile to the cats claws.

Eventually though, the Chelsey scurried over suspiciously towards the trap, pausing before it had to deal with everything working as Klue wished. More or less, the trap itself had a small problem and that was that while the bottom caved under the Chelsey's weight it had to deal with the fact the Chelsey couldn't actually fit down the tube. Or was refusing to move as the legs flailed and braced itself against the side - no mouse or rat could actually work such a feat which at least gave Klue the knowledge most vermin wouldn't be such pests.

"Mrow?" mused the cat thoughtfully, looking up before it's yellow eyes narrowed and a Kitty-grin filled with utter malevolence passed across it's heavily scarred features. Padding it's way towards the trap, the cat went to pounce! Chelsey, with some last desire for self preseveration gave up trying to prevent it's fall down the tube and into the trap itself... and in the end sealed it's fate nicely.
Klue had his volunteers, the means to prevent the cats escape through the door now along with at least one rodent-like test subject who could well, be put to the test. In theory thus far, the trap itself was a success and a relatively safe one in comparison to poisons and some rather odd constructions involving blades, springs and clamps to keep the rodent population down.

[Klue Malinconico]

Aside from the fact that Klue would have to go on first brightening duty, he had nothing but time on his hands. And that was spent alternately watching the chesley and cat…silently willing them each to get on with it, mentally readjusting his designs for his next project, and plotting his future. Nothing specific really, except that by whatever means necessary…Almost...it would be a lucrative one where no doubt he’d enjoy wealth and the admiration of his peers. That, alongside a military career.

How he managed it, exactly, depended on whatever guilding influence came along and led, or pushed him in the right direction. He wasn’t picky. Though try as he might, he’d never been able to rid himself of the bothersome conscience that would keep him from straying too far from lawfulness or morality. Too far being relative, given his self styled interpretation of things in general. Shame really. He’d heard the profit was better the further one strayed. He was doomed, he'd thought now and again, to be terminably, and generally honorable.

Pondering that unfortunate fact, he’d almost drifted off when the scurrying of eight feet brought his head back up with a snap. He leaned forward only slightly so not to disturb progress and peered through the dark with narrowed blue eyes. Course, he couldn’t really see what was going on inside that box. But he could hear it, imagine eight feet scrabbling for purchase. He scowled, willing it to drop down that tube.

And when the cat noticed the goings on, Klue frowned at the ugly beast, silently willing it to wait till the rat was where he wanted it. And when the chesley dropped finally into the lower box, he grinned wide and foregoing a celebratory ‘whoop’, lest he scare the cat out the door, he pushed himself out of the corner and in a couple of strides, pushed the door shut.

Now he only needed a little cooperation from the cat. Either the cat had survived gods knew what by luck and fate alone, or he had some smarts. Klue hoped it was the latter. So walking to the trap and crouching down carefully so not to startle anyone, he eyed the cat and tapped once on the screened box, fiddling once with the handle to jiggle the door in hopes the fellow would catch the hint before backing away. ”There’s yer meal, ye bugger, jus’ waitin’ for ye,” he said softly, crouched well away from the box to watch.

[Maddyn]

Rather than watching the box any further with the trapped Chelsey though, the mangy old cat turned and watched Klue instead. Settling on it's haunches to stare at the soldier before proceeding to go about having a nice bath there. The poor creatures coat looking as if allowing it within a hundred metres of any taste bud was a venture of the illegal kind. If not inhumane. And seeming in absolutely no hurry at all to go about testing if Klue's mousetrap worked when it'd considered and determined the fact rosyun wasn't going anywhere at all.

What however did peeve the cat off a little bit as it gave up it's bath and stared at Klue a little longer was the realisation that he wasn't going to actually get the Chelsey out of the box. Obviously a Human in need of training then if it didn't understand the heirarchy of how everything in life worked. Cats at the top, Humans next serving them and then everything else which was either prey, plaything or something boring and not worth bothering with.

"Mrow?" it grumbled, as if cats could indeed grumble.
Padding it's way back to the box and trying to scrable and paw at it until the catch gave way and the Chelsey was released... "Mrow!" the cat 'spoke' in triumph, pouncing on the scrabling creature as it descended into the overgrown furballs paws. Batting it over the head once sharply with it's pa