Madam Bois' Lore

Treasures Within

Madam Bois' Story

Originally posted in July 2025

- Chapter I -

Wood creaks as slim, but heavy, boots press and scuff against a dusty floor. The warlock paces back and forth for most of the day between his alchemy library and the laboratory. The old wooden floor carrying him from room to room announcing his position to everything else within the wood and stone tower. The floor itself is nothing special, but it does exactly what it was created to do, so in a simple sense it’s a perfect construction of perfect value. The warlock doesn't pay any attention to the floor though, or anything in the tower at all really. He paces and paces thinking of how to cast these new powerful spells knocking around within his constantly shifting mind.

The warlock has been trying to create a Shrink spell and then an equally important Growth spell for weeks now. Looking for a way to reduce his accumulated horde into something more manageable. His currently unmanageable loot spans from golden dragon talons to a set of goblin pots and pans, arcane and magickal tomes to fossilized Shen egg shells. His mind has never thought about throwing any of his treasures away, or donating them to the local villages; his mind is incapable of thinking like that. His only option is to find another way to reduce the size of his individual treasures so his volume of overall treasures may continue to grow even further. Spending hours and hours each day organizing his treasure hoard in new ways to attempt to fit more of it into the same amount of space. His adventuring days are far from behind him, but this side quest has been troubling him for so long he has needed to focus on it now, or else his hoard will consume the entire tower and he’d need to build another tower… He thinks about building another tower, but then realizes that he’ll inevitably run into the same issues there as well. No, the Shrink/Growth spells are a better option. Plus the travel time between towers will be a nightmare. What color would he even paint the interior walls? How would he decorate the living quarters? Would he split the laboratory, or just keep one tower as the potion tower and the new one as a summer home? Does he really want to become “that warlock” that has a summer home tower? What was he thinking about? Oh right, the spells.

The spells don’t work and he’s been pacing on this old wooden floor for days now. The warlock steps around a very old tall cupboard and onto a particularly squeaky floorboard as an idea strikes into the center of his magick-riddled mind.

"I've been thinking of this all wrong," he says stepping off from the floorboard as it gives him a squeaky sound of agreement. Beginning his pacing again, "...Instead of reducing the size of the treasures, I'll simply move them away into a … void? Of sorts."

His brain still tackling the idea, he briskly walks over the wooden floorboards, sets down a book on tower construction and magickal interior decorating, and enters the laboratory to begin setting up a workstation. The wood settles in for another long evening of being stepped on.

After hours of toiling over a burning skull and some cooling potions, the warlock finally pours a clear liquid into a long, thin vial, "ha-ah-HA!" He screams at the ceiling while holding it aloft in triumph over space and reality itself! He brings the newly created potion down level with his evil eye and looks at it seductively, it pulses with an odd color and motion seemingly in response, "Now now, let's not get hasty. We can surely wait until the morning for our victorious moment.” His brain not once thinking that poking fate like that could be a bad idea. “I’ll need full energy anyways." He walks to the hallway and opens a large container, that being a 5 foot tall chifferobe that he’s converted into storage for potions that are sensitive to light. "You need time to settle and I don’t have something readily here to cram inside you anyways." He furrows his brow at what he said, not liking it, but shakes it away from his face and places the newly created volatile potion down within a long metal rack, picks up a blank piece of paper and writes the following:

Void Retrieval Potion.

He thinks for a moment, and then writes something else:

[?]

Adhering the paper to the vial he places it down into a slot next to the other potions within the sinister-looking metal rack:

Potion of Animation [L]

Necromancer Juice

A potion labeled "Lavender Y" with a crudely drawn skull.

Boot Polish [Extra Dark]

Vampirism [S]

And finally:

An unlabeled potion that swirls like an unformed rainbow in water.

Some vials have teeth floating in them, while others seem to move and react to the candlelight from when the warlock opened the chifferobe. All of them look like corked caustic abominations chattering within the metal rack as the warlock jostles them ever so slightly. The warlock begins closing the doors and then stops, reaches deeper into the chifferobe, pops open a back drawer, and pulls out a bright and vibrant orange fluffy night robe. Closing the chifferobe, he tosses the robe around himself and makes for his bedchamber, the floor creaks and squeaks a final time for the evening as it prepares for a restful sleep after an equally hard day's work.

Once the noise of the tower dies down and the flickering of the candles simmer and snuff themselves for their own rest, the creatures in the tower walls are allowed out of their hidey-holes to scrounge for tools and foods. A large species of vermin wriggles out between two widened floorboards and the wall. Its whiskers darting up-and-down as it searches the darkened tower floor for something to eat or make into a nest, or both. The vermin’s hardened footpads scamper over the asymmetric wooden floor and come to a darkened woody monolith that promises untold riches, and maybe some light snacks. Circling it, the rat finds a broken foot from the chifferobe and a pile of old tomes propping the wooden treasure box up. Just enough room to sneak inside to pilfer and loot. Forcing itself in through the tiny space, it enters the chifferobe’s darkened husk, adjusting upwards to begin climbing inside. Something clacks and scraps on the top shelf and it pings the rat’s tiny ears. ‘Food! Treasures! Food!?’ it thinks as it begins climbing up a long braided cord.

A sudden ‘cree-ee-eeak’ noise tickles the back of the chifferobe and the rat barely notices, with its focus solely on the extravagant buffet it most definitely is going to get at the top of this wooden lunch box.

The rat lands on the top shelf of the chifferobe’s interior as it gazes upon the wondrous metal structure in front of it. This will be its final view, for the shadow creature that inhabits this chifferobe slashes it in half with its darkened claws pushing one half of the rat backwards down the chifferobe’s interior and the other half, well, forwards and forcibly into the metal shelf carrying some of the most dangerous materials in the tower. The liquids pour out of each vial and slide over the varnished interior wood of the chifferobe. To the shadow creature’s credit, it recognized its mistake within seconds. Which is really something to behold. Most people would think these creatures are simply evil beings with little to no cognitive ability to understand things outside of their evil deeds. Partly true, but this one seemed to really understand more than what people gave it credit for. It doesn’t matter of course since what was done was already done, but it’s an interesting note to make if you’re interested in those sorts of things.

The chifferobe blinks out of existence leaving ghostly trails of cold magick energy where it once stood for decades. The tower floorboards settle into the relieved weight and their new configuration with a tiny little squeak.

A long, drawn out, pause sits in the tower. I mean, like a really long pause. Some would call it a short rest at this point.

A small sound that no one could have possibly heard happens in one of the corners of the room. Or was it on the floor underneath?

Another small sound, ‘p-phfff. . .tettettet. POP!’ as the chifferobe emerges back into existence within the tower. Only slightly lower from where it left, somewhat merging with the obnoxiously squeaky floorboards and causing a shrapnel of timbers to shoot out in all directions.

“Uuwaoowu–” the chifferobe moans in a squeaky way before leaning forward and vomiting the remaining contents of the potion cocktail and half of a dead rat onto the destroyed, and at this point, slightly upset floorboards. They’ve been doing their job all day and they didn’t get asked to be teleported into and/or displaced apart by an animated chifferobe.

A small piece of paper floats by the chifferobe’s foot, “Lavendery?” the chifferobe says in a clear and perfect language it doesn’t truly understand yet. It wants the paper, for some reason it feels like it should have it. It reaches for the object with a long flowing ribbon that forms into a beautiful silken hand towards the tip.

‘Oh!’ She thinks, ‘What a pretty hand it has. I have? She has. Me. Yes, she feels right. I mean, that feels right.’

She picks up the paper and the liquid soaking into it burns her ribbon hand slightly. “Ow! Little bastard!” she says as she drops the paper and looks towards the doorway that is now illuminated by a very startled and upset-looking orange-wizard-type person-thing. The upset orange candle-holding-thing opens its mouth for a moment, but isn’t able to fully push air out between its lips before the poor floorboards finally just give up, they’ve been through it today and finally don’t want to be part of it any longer. They crack in half and drop the chifferobe down through the tower and into the tower’s dungeon.

- Chapter II -

The chifferobe wakes up in a pile of wood. Well, she is a pile of wood, so she wakes up by herself. Stone and dust smells waft up from beneath her askew wooden body. Unconsciously, her ribbon hands pull her drawers together and insert them back beneath her. She bites down on an object stuck between her teeth and swallows something hard and cool while her tongue tries to grab at it, unsuccessfully her lolling tongue plays at it while her mind swims. The object ricochets and clinks down her cavernous throat as it enters into an internal cabinet and journeys down into some other part within her. Madam Bois’ eyes spring open and her dragon-like feet scamper to attention, pushing her upwards and forwards in an aggressive motion that scares her fully awake. A small thought strikes her as she sees her dragon feet and slightly recoils at the sight of them, ‘Are those mine?’ she thinks, before feeling an odd tingly excited feeling emanating from a bottom drawer.

“Woah-OH!” She feels an electricity of magick shooting out from her drawer as the pain from falling through an unknown amount of dungeon floors recedes beneath her varnish. Catching herself from falling forward, she spits out a small metal piece of something rolling around on her tongue and catches it in her silken hand, “What are you my beautiful?” A chewed piece of a small gold coin folds back and forth over her palm, “Mmm–” Madam Bois’ eyebrow raises as her attention is forced down towards the shining precious metal. Something wet hits her top drawer as she realizes she’s drooling and grinning like a mad cabinet. Closing her drawer in embarrassment, her grin widens as she lobs the coin back into her toothy mouth. A small, but effective, rush of energy radiates out from her bottom drawer again and she giggles slightly.

“Ooh-hoo-hoo! Tingles.” She winks at herself, giggles again, and turns to look around herself, “But I don’t mind it.”

The rushing energy passes while she surveys the destroyed area she plummeted into. So many things. Things are just about everywhere. When she looks somewhere else, she sees more things than she saw before, and when she looks back she swears she sees even more things than were there to begin with: Chairs, wands, stone heads, pots, skeletons, pans, eggs, a chicken made of wicker weavings, fluffy night gowns, big blocks of wood and stone, eleven silver goblets, a box of old hats, nope sorry there's the other one twelve silver goblets, long metal tubes, broken glassware, a tablet that drips a whispering blackened ichor, various poorly labeled potions, gold, a weird little purple box– GOLD!

Her smile begins to widen again and she feels her ugly, scaly feet unconsciously creeping closer to the pile of shining sweet glorious gold, closing the gap between her and her prize.

Just then, a noise tumbles down the tall cylindrical stone chamber from above. The sound bounces between wet walls and seems to fall and echo all over the place. Madam Bois gets irritated by the noises bothering her while she’s stalking her golden prey and barely notices the heavy metal rod that embeds itself into the surprised stone floor next to her. The gold beckons her closer and closer until she’s on top of the pile and shoving ribbony handfuls of the juicy coins down her gullet. Tinders and wood shavings pour down around her in a waterfall of woody rain as her lust peaks at the last mouthful of golden treasure being shoved between her slathering wet teeth. The moment passes and Madam Bois wakes up in yet another pile of wood, twine, and sharp metal rods.

‘Looks like a bridge fell down from above.’ She thinks as she comes to and looks up to see half a dangling wooden bridge hanging about 100 feet above her. “Oh, it is.” She says while kicking some of the annoying flinders of wood and twine. ‘Maybe this could be used to hold some of my newfound treasures. If I’m going to live here, I should probably start cleaning the place up a bit.’ She kicks more of the debris around with her dragon foot and recoils, ‘I’m going to have to do something about these disgusting feet. Uhhg, it’s not befitting someone like me.’

‘Someone like me…’

She recognizes that she doesn’t even know her own name. Who is she? Where is she from? Well, she guesses that last one is easy, she’s from higher up in this tower. Why does she have these scaly gross feet if she feels so much prettier than them? What was that word she read right before she fell through the decrepit floor? Lilly? Lillac? Professor Littlehammer? Lavatore? Hmm… She continues to think and question life as she shuffles around her new home, clearing a small area that she’s thinking of turning into the living room.

The man with the candle appears on a small outcropping of stone above her overlooking the basement floor she’s currently trying to make a home out of. A broken bridge hangs dangling from the opposite end of the rounded tower interior and the grumpy fluffy-orange candle-man stands angrily on a precipice glowering down on Madam Bois’ new homestead. His hand reaches out and she hears a faint muttering echo down to her.

A familiar, ‘POP! Tettettet. . ..p-phfff.’ and the dizzying taste of lavender washes over her entire body. Madam Bois steadies herself on a metal rod emerging from the clean stone ground and her ribbony hands brush against the cool stone walls, “Oo-oh-OH!” echoes down into the interior of the tower as she stands near the edge of a broken bridge. “What in the purple-world was that?” she’s able to stumble out of her toothy mouth. The effects of consuming all that wonderful gold quickly subsiding and leaving her in a soapy dizziness making it hard to stand on her own. She hears an irritated yowling and clanking from further down the tower’s interior. A small fuzzy-orange mess outlined by a cold magickal essence, along with some goblin pots and pans shifts beneath her. Magickal rumblings emanate from below Madam Bois as she stumbles down a darkened corridor away from the weird interior of that tower that she quickly wishes to forget and just move on with her life from. It’s really a shame though, she just got a great layout idea for a reading nook down there. “My next home will have plenty of space for reading nooks.” She says as she makes her way out into the forest surrounding the fuzzy-orange-man’s tower.

The forest is alive with the sounds of nature and bright sunlight. After about an hour of walking in seemingly random directions that she “feels” to be correct, Madam Bois finds a shady spot under an old willow tree and settles her aching dowels down into the mossy ground, “Just a small rest here will do me good.”

- Chapter III -

“-at I’m sayin’ is there ain’t a clear ‘eason for a dresser–”

“Chifferobe.”

“Wha’eva’, to be ‘ere in the first place.”

“What do you think happened? Travelers get robbed and they dump this behind?”

A short pause and some light shuffling as Madam Bois slightly wakes up and realizes she’s being inspected by at least two onlookers.

“If so, where’s the rest of the goods?”

“‘ow should I know? All I do know is that it’s sittin’ ‘ere an’ we came on this ‘upid quest to grab loot. ‘is’s loot in’it?”

“Then open it.”

Madam Bois expects a hand to touch her and she can feel the presence of someone getting closer to her cupboards. She tries to stay as still as she possibly can, but feels a slight shiver of anticipation.

A quick shuffling backwards, “I’m not touchin’ the ‘amned thing! Wha’if it’s curs’d?”

“Cursed!?” One of them laughs quite loudly for this early in the morning, “*aherm* What’s the play there? A crazed old wizard curses a chifferobe and leaves it in the middle of the woods to be opened by looters and trap their souls or something? You’re cracked, you are.”

“Shu’up you ol’ fool! I don’ care what the ‘eason is, ther’s somethin’ up with this furniture an’ me bones are screamin’ it at me. Maybe it fell off’er somethin’ evil, ‘ike a caravan o’ witches.”

“Fine, let’s leave it then and get to this fancy loot-filled dungeon.” Madam Bois can’t see the person, but feels they used heavy air quotes around the last few words of their sentence. “I’m tired already and the sun’s barely up.”

Madam Bois lets out an imperceptible woody squeak of relief and the fibers in her wood slightly release as the looters appear to leave her be.

“But–” The looter’s voice scares her and she lets out a tiny internal creak as the wood tightens again. “Wha’ if, you know?”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I can’t seem to walk away from the damned thing.”

“Uhhg, this thin’ is drivin’ me crazed!” A small shuffling of leaves and dirt, “Wha’ if we toss a stone at it?”

“The apparently cursed chifferobe in the middle of the woods? I don’t think that’s a good idea, Omir.”

“Listen, it’s either cursed or it’s not cursed. Right?”

“Those are the two available options for all things, yes.”

“Then we jus’ hav’ to fifty-fifty it, eh?”

“Ha, you want to play a game against the damned thing?”

“Not that, ya idiot! Us.”

“So what, you’re cursed and I’m not cursed? What’s the plan here?”

“Clare! Don’ say that! I don’ want to be cursed.”

“Mother Merdah save me, you are a child.”

“Shu’ it.” Another rustling in the leaves, “‘ere, stand ove’ ‘ere next to me.” A long sigh and a short step. “Good. Now I’m gonna’ spin the stick in the air, wherever it lands and whoey’ it points at has to op’n the curs’ed thin’.”

“I thought it wasn’t cursed.”

“Forget abou’ it being cursed! We’re doin’ the stick plan now.”

Madam Bois’ extraplanar stomach gurgles slightly and her drawers shift uncomfortably as she’s been unable to move while these two idiots debate opening her up or not.

The stick hits the ground.

“Well, that wasn’t explained in the rules, was it?”

“‘ow was I suppose to know the damned thin’ would land perfectly betwixt us!”

“I think it’s more towards you.”

A large grunt and something lands far off into the woods, “Screw tha’ stick anyways. Let me grab ‘nother.”

“No. Stop grabbing things off the ground and making games. Let’s solve this simply. Do you want to open the chifferobe?”

“No.”

“But also, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then we open it. Done.”

“‘kay. But who–”

“I’m getting to that. Do you, as Omir, want to physically open the chifferobe?”

“Hells no.”

“Okay. Then we both open it.”

“Wha’? Why?”

“Well I also don’t want to open the cursed thing. And, like you said, it’s either cursed or it isn’t. So there’s a fifty-fifty shot whether it's cursed or not cursed. So if we both open it there’s a fifty-fifty shot either of us gets it, so what’s fifty of a fifty-fifty? That’s about a twenty-eighty chance of either of us getting cursed or not cursed, right? Not bad odds, given the chances.”

Madam Bois tries following the math and then remembers these two are idiots. She does her own math, and solves a very simple problem.

“‘ight.”

“Right. Good. Then get over here–”

“No, no! I wan’ the left side.” More shuffling around, “Left is always mor’ lucky.”

“Sure. Whatever. Fine. Ready?”

“‘kay! But wha’if it’s cursed in a really bad way?”

“Omir! Just grab the chif–”

The second the looters touch Madam Bois, she springs open with shining teeth and flashing ribbons. In a quick snap and grab, and a tiny yelp, the looters are sucked inside and quickly consumed.

A crow caws from a high branch up on a tall tree.

Madam Bois readjusts herself and stretches from her scaly dragon feet to her ribbon arms. She lets out delicate and dignified little burp, “*uhrrp* Oh my, excuse me.” A leaflet ricochets between her monstrous teeth and out of her mouth to slowly fall to the ground.

“What’s this then?” She scoops it up with one of her flowing ribbons and glances at it, “Ooh this must be the dungeon those two were yakking about.” She peers at the torn note more and sees a small drawing of a cluster of houses and some poorly drawn gems and stacks of gold coins, “The Bleeding S– S– Something? Looks like it’s–” She sees a tall stone tower on the paper, looks away from that direction, and adjusts towards the South, “This way.”

She scratches the wet ground with her dragon-like feet, adjusts some of her askew drawers, and pops the paper in her mouth like a tiny mint after a lovely meal, “I am still a bit hungry.”

- Chapter IV -

“RUN! Run while you still can! The cupboards are crazed! Furniture walks amongst us! When there’s no more room in the basement, they walk the land! The cutlery doesn’–”

“Bit of an overreaction if I’m being honest.” Madam Bois watches the screaming man run as fast as he possibly can away from her and his cart full of apples. Madam Bois nonchalantly grabs an apple and tosses the whole thing into your mouth. While smacking her lips, “What about you old boy? You know the way to the closest city with a secret dungeon full of loot?” Leaning down she places a hand on the shoulder of the donkey tied to the apple cart.

The donkey snorts a bit.

“Loads of helpful creatures out today.” She takes another apple from the back of the cart and starts walking further down the road with a sigh coming up from her chest.

Madam Bois walks for the better part of the day. Many dusty and boring roads walked and a few somewhat more interesting hills climbed. Her dragon feet trudge ever onward and she hates them for every step she can see them take in front of her. ‘These things are wrong.’ she thinks as they keep kicking up dirt and rocks. ‘Maybe they aren’t really mine. Maybe they got transformed from beautiful and elegant golden slippers into these hideous things? Mmm gold. Or! Maybe they’re just covered with gross dragon hide and they’re pretty underneath!’ She stops and tries to pull off one of the dragon scales attached to her right foot, “OW!” as the pain shoots up her leg. ‘Alright, definitely mine. But back to the first thought, maybe they got transformed from the beautiful slipper things into these monstrous feet?’ She remembers a purplish taste and the fluffy-orange-man-thing doing something with his hands and mouth at her a few times in her brief time within the tower. ‘Gosh, that seems like years ago, and it was only the other day.’ Madam Bois forces her ribbony hands into a mockery of what she remembers seeing the magick-fluffy-guy doing, “Fiddle-Doo-Doo!” Snapping her hands forward at her extended foot, she holds the position for a moment.

Nothing.

‘Obviously nothing.’ Her mind clarifies. ‘Uhhg, come along feet, looks like we’ve got some more distance to cover.’ She kicks a big rock with her “scaly devil feet”, looks to the horizon and begins to see the shapes of towers and walls as darkness creeps over the treetops and covers most of the land.

She gets closer to the outer wall of buildings surrounding what appears to be a massive city. A small thicket of trees between large farmland seems like a good spot for her to rest a moment. ‘Wait, city?’ she thinks. ‘How do I know this word? Come to think of it, how do I know any word?’ Madam Bois closes her big eyes and tries to remember. Anything at all.

Flashes of the ground moving past her at rapid speed. Darkness surrounding her while it becomes part of her. Moving between shadows fluidly. Noises and voices and language spoken, but not understood. Warm stones underfoot. Sharp smells. More voices, but this time chanting something over and over again. A big wheel of cheese?

She stops remembering and just sort of sits on the edge of some farmland outside the city for a while. ‘Well, that was surely a lot, and yet I still don’t know anything.’ She slumps over next to a stump and just exists for a moment. ‘Why am I even going to this “The Bloody Surmfin Samplin Whatever” place? What in the hells am I going to find there? Besides treasure that is.’ Her mind remembers the gold she had and a false warmth courses through her form, just the thought of consuming the loot changes her mind and focus. ‘Maybe some gold would do me good. Maybe if I had some I could think of what I need to do next. Yes. That will fix this.’ With renewed vigor, she stands up and starts marching towards the back of a building facing the wider world that is Tenacity, the city that promised her massive amount of gold.

She stops after a small trudge, ‘Maybe I should be a bit more incognito. That last interaction with the donkey and apple-man didn’t really go super well. I wonder where he went by the way, I hope he’s okay.’ She pulls her monster feet beneath her and closes everything she has, ‘Those two thieving idiots didn’t see me for myself when I was asleep, I bet others will think I’m just a sexy chifferobe on my own if I stand like this.’ An owl hoots as it flies otherwise silently overhead.

‘Okay okay okay. Move. Stop. Chifferobe. Move. Stop. Chifferobe.’ Madam Bois practices a bit and then adjusts a loose drawer and untwirls part of her ribbon hand, ‘Alright focus up. Let’s find this “Bloody Something Place”.’ She begins walking towards the first group of buildings, repeating her new mantra, “Move. Stop. Chifferobe.”

The owl watches her walk into the city of Tenacity, only slightly obscured by night’s cover.

- Chapter V -

Bijeak prides themselves on knowing what they have. They know they have what it takes to get into the Reaths, they know they don’t care they’ve been turned down multiple times, they also know they don’t mind that they have a mark on their head, and they definitely know they are being followed. They know the person following them is watching them as an initiation. They know the coin in their pocket with a small red tassel attached to it is worth a fortune and they know who they stole it from is going to want it back at a high price. They know they’re thinking all of this, but what they don’t know is what they just saw shuffle across the darkened city road ahead of them and disappear behind the corner of a building. It was pretty far away and it didn’t look humanoid, unless the human was carrying a giant dresser from behind or something. This confused them, because they thought they knew everything that was going on. Doubt enters Bijeak’s head and they know they don’t like it. They thought they knew what they had. Bijeak fingers the coin and tassel in their pocket and keeps walking forward. Alright, they do still know what they have. They know their next steps and what needs to be done to get there. Wait. This time they see the large rectangular shape emerge, but then stop on the side of the road and settle down. Bijeak stops, mimicking their movement. Alright, they know what they saw this time. It was a large dresser floating along the ground and then setting itself down. Bijeak walks slowly again, ignoring everything else as they approach the large object. They ignore the loud fight happening in a house nearby, they ignore the raccoon jumping on trash cans in the alleyway, they ignore the clouds moving over the moon very quickly. They know about all of those things and they know they don’t matter. One hand in their pocket protecting the coin, and the other hand loosely touching their knife tucked into their waist in the small of their back. They know a trap when they see one. Walking closer and closer to the object doesn’t trigger anything, doesn’t set off any alarms, and doesn’t explode full of goblins. Bijeak knew it wasn’t going to do that. Within a few feet of the dresser Bijeak knows that it isn’t a dresser at all, it’s obviously a chifferobe. They know that now. But they didn’t know that before. Uh oh, more doubt creeps into their head before–

A small squeak comes from the chifferobe and Bijeak grabs their knife, but doesn’t draw it out of their belt. They know it’s just a squeak.

Bijeak glares at the chifferobe as it opens an eye and glares back at them before widening their eye and sprouting dragon feet to scamper away with. Bijeak sees the animated chifferobe run down the street away from them and sharply turn into an alleyway. They know what they saw, but unfortunately, they also know who grabbed them from the alleyway and stabbed them between their ribs.

She walks into an alleyway, pulls in all of her appendages and becomes a full chifferobe again. Madam Bois felt pretty good about that interaction. There wasn’t much running and a lot less screaming that time. Things were getting better.

Alright, next steps: One, find this “Blood Palace Store”, or whatever. Two, get some more loot. Thinking the word “loot” and coming down from the interaction, she notices a slightly sluggish and almost exhausted feeling from that brief socialization. She un-chifferobes herself and looks around the alleyway, a dirty and fluffy creature is jumping up and down on a small metal container near her. They both stare at each other for a moment. The raccoon hisses at her and jumps off the trash can, knocking it over towards her. ‘Why does everyone keep doing that?’ She’s starting to think there’s something wrong with her appearance. That thought fades though as she notices something shiny in the trash pile. A silver oasis among the refuse. An island of loot afloat in a stinky ocean of junk. It’s in her hand. It’s in her mouth before she even realizes it. She bites down and expects an ambrosia of energy to issue forth from this hidden treasure.

But it doesn’t.

In fact, nothing happens. For a while. Then, something unexpected happens, she recognizes that she’s chewing on a big piece of dirty metal in a gross alleyway. Spitting the hunk of garbage out into her hand she inspects the object. It looks like a crushed up, poorly painted cheap metal soup bowl. She takes credit for the “crushed up” part of the object, but the rest of it confuses her. ‘Why didn’t this give me the energetic rush the other metal did? I mean, it’s not gold– She has a thought within her current thought, ‘‘Mmm gold…’’– but silver is close to gold, right? Silver should be better than gold. Unless…’ She tosses the bowl to the ground and it makes an unsatisfactory knockoff thud, ‘This isn’t real silver!’ She starts forming some new thoughts about the concept of “wealth” and “personal value” of objects, but someone walks by the alleyway and she ducks into the closest building to hide.

Madam Bois hides under a tall counter towards the front of the building and hears someone shuffling by.

“Yeah, it’s taken care of. Yeah, I got it. Let’s put it this way, I KNOW Bijeak isn’t going to bother us any longer he he.”

She doesn’t like the sound in the woman’s voice as she walks by, but the last– ‘THE BLOODY SOUP!’ Madam Bois’ inner voice screams as she reads a large sign above the counter along the back wall and can’t believe her luck, ‘I found it! I found it! First try too. This treasure hunting stuff is easy.’ She stands to her full height and begins surveying The Bloody Soup interior. ‘What a terrible name. It must have been a front for this secret dungeon full of loot and treasure and gold…’ Her mind wanders and her lower drawer shivers in anticipation of all the sweet treasure she’s about to immediately find and eat.

Madam Bois spends about two hours turning over tables and reading through documents before she comes to two major conclusions. One, this place definitely closed down due to its awful business practices and terrible name choice. Two, there is no secret entrance to a secret dungeon filled with secret loot. Half the floor is rotten wood and she can see the dirt below the building. ‘How is there supposed to be a secret loot dungeon in the basement if there isn’t a basement!? Maybe a secret portal upstairs!‘ Madam Bois runs upstairs and searches more and more boxes of depressing cutlery and notes about terrible business practices. She wanders back downstairs, defeated, ‘Those two idiots were truly idiots.’ She sits behind the counter of The Bloody Soup and sadly wonders what her next steps are. No loot. No plan. No goal. And again worst of all, no loot. Her eyes twitch and an odd substance streaks down around her mouth. It tastes cold and she doesn’t like it very much. She closes her eyes to stop the liquid from coming out and falls into an exhausted sleep.

When she wakes up, the light from a broken window attacks her eyes and causes her ribbony hand to block the assault. ‘Oh, I feel terrible.’ Her mind creaks awake as she checks in with each part of herself. Eyes are puffy and dry, ribbons are stiff, wooden chest feels loose, legs…well, she knows how she feels about those. But as she’s staring at one of her monstrous feet, she feels a small murmur of a purr, something vibrating her leg. She slides her foot out slightly moving the object. It’s the odd little fuzzy creature from last night that was jumping on the containers outside. It moves a little and reaches its paws out in front of itself to stretch in the morning light of the dusty floor. Something glints underneath it. It’s in Madam Bois’ flowing hand before she knows it. The decadent pearl handle, the long shining metal blade, the faded but distinct ‘B’ letter on the handle that appears to be filled with a… gold color. ‘This is a very nice looking object.’ She thinks as she slides it, handle first, between her teeth and down into her. Madam Bois feels it immediately, the rush, the energy tickling her, this was something better than a gold coin. This was true treasure.

The raccoon fully opens their eyes and surveys the ground around them slowly, then with a quick darting hand grabs for their treasure, doesn't find anything, begins panicking, and then finally looks upwards to see a giant dragon-footed dresser licking its fingers and giggling to itself. The raccoon squabbles up the side of a counter in The Bloody Soup and knocks an old fake silver bowl at Madam Bois. This breaks Madam Bois out from the moment she’s having and directs her attention to her oldest known friend, “Oh, good morning my fluffy pal.”

The raccoon hisses at her and jumps through a large crack in the wall to the outside.

“Until next time, I suppose!” Madam Bois yells out through the wall her friend scurried through. Glaring through the sunlight, she peaks out through a broken window pane to see lots of people walking through the streets. Lots and lots of people. She thinks, ‘That’s going to be a lot of screaming people.’ before looking across the street and seeing two goblins struggling to pick up a large table covered in robes and cloaks. ‘Ha ha. No.’ she laughs to herself, ‘That’s a terrible idea. But I do need to get out of this awful closed-down soup shop somehow.’

You can do this, “Move. Stop. Chifferobe.” She quickly shuffles out onto the side of the road, makes direct eye contact with a tall green-skinned woman, and says, “Morning ma’am.” while winking directly at her. ‘WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?’ Bells start ringing in Madam Bois’ head and she immediately halts where she is and turns into a chifferobe. ‘Stupid stupid stupid!’

The orc stands stunned on the side of the road for a moment, looks at the potion she took a sip from earlier in the morning, corks it, and throws it into the alleyway before continuing to walk down the street.

‘Brilliant move you idiotic end table! Now someone’s going to start running and screaming and then they’re all going to chop you up and burn you up as firewood!’

“What -bout dat piece?”

‘They’ll take me apart piece by piece!’

“Huh? We’re done ya idiot.”

‘Goodbye drawers!’

“Then wuz dat?”

‘Goodbye wonderful ribbon hands!’

“You ARE an idiot Bosco! Go get that dresser and get it in the shop before this old wizard skins you for parts!”

‘Goodbye terrible ugly disgusting feet! Those won’t be missed, but I won’t be around to even miss them!’

“O-K.”

Madam Bois feels small, but strong, hands grab either side of her and lift up with ease. ‘Here it is, right onto the pyre! Goodbye everything! It was a short and sad time, but it’s over now. Goodbye. Goodbye!’ Madam Bois continues silently weeping to herself and getting more and more worked up, until she’s finally gently placed down in a warm soft area that smells like old moths.

“That should do it sir.”

Silence.

“Thank you for hiring Chester and Bosco’s Moving Company, we hope you have a moving day.”

Continued aggressive silence, as two creatures shuffle by Madam Bois grumbling something to themselves in a language she’s sort of glad she can’t understand.

She peeks an eye open and sees an explosion of color and fabric. Rows and rows of shirts, pants, coats, hats, rugs, wall hangings. She must have died and gone to some sort of fabric-based afterlife. ‘Wait a minute! I’m not dead, I just ended up in a resale shop!’ She looks around and sees clothes racks that stretch off into the distance, some of them look expensive and have a dull gold coloring to them, she begins drooling a little. Feeling pretty good after that small dagger snack, but she feels she could use something of a main course.

She peers around a corner and finds an ancient-looking man hunched over a counter with about thirteen different glasses and hats on. He’s currently using long silver tools and doing something extremely precise with an old piece of leather. ‘Maybe I can sneak back out the front with those two goblins and make it into the back of their cart before they take off.’ She thinks as she begins creeping towards the entrance of this beautiful but odd shop. She makes it near the front of the store and begins slinking out, “Welcome to The Bleeding Stitch. I don’t buy wholesale and I don’t work with thick-web silk.” He says it in a single breath and it seems to have hurt him to say it because he lets out a quick grumpy sigh with the remaining air in his lungs. ‘Oh I’m caught now, warm up the pyres again!’ … ‘Wait.’

“The Bloody Stitch!? Is that what you just said?” Madam Bois’ voice a little course from her only other interactions today being horrifying a woman walking by and yelling pleasantries at a raccoon.

“The Bleeding Stitch.” The man doesn’t look away from his work for a second, “If you have items to sell, place them on the counter and I’ll look through them. If not, feel free to look around the shop. Otherwise, please leave.” He lets out another little huff, “And have a great day.” That one definitely hurt him to say, Madam Bois can see the damage get inflicted as his face winces with the words. She straightens her drawers and feels a reenergizing vigor, her goals and mission reinstated and her purpose renewed. She struts over to the counter, which is hard for an animated chifferobe with dragon feet to do, so it’s very impressive. Unfortunately, and fortunately, the man refuses to look up from his work.

“Oh, umm, I’m here for the–” She leans in closer to the counter, “Loot.” She raises her eyebrows, but the man doesn’t see them.

“As I said, place your items on the counter and I’ll sort through them in a moment.”

Madam Bois was confused, this was the longest conversation she’s been a part of without screaming and running and devouring. She liked it, but she also wasn’t getting her point across to the grumpy ancient man and didn’t really know how to at this point. “No no, I’m not looking to sell–”

“Then look around and bring your purchases to the counter when you’re ready to buy.” The man gestures to the side of the building, “We just got a new load of furniture in stock you can look through. But it’s not priced yet.”

Madam Bois looked at her drawers and covered them slightly with her ribbons, “No. I’m not here for the furniture either. I’m a little bit different and I’m here for something else.” Again with the flourishing eyebrows, but this time she thinks it will be her last time trying it. Maybe she’ll try a wink next.

“Lady, I don’t care if you’re a dragon. If you’re buyin’, I’m sellin’. And if you’re sellin’, I might be buyin’.” He says while peering closer at the leather and his cleaning apparatus.

Madam Bois looks down at her feet and then scowls at the man. She liked this man. She also hated him slightly, but part of why she hated him sort of also added to his charm a bit and made her like him more. She thought about eating him, but then considered that she should save her appetite for the dungeon full of loot, which she’s apparently on top of right now! Plus, she’s starting to think that eating those two idiots might have caused her some digestion issues. She started thinking a few other things, but shook them from her mind and decided to just look for this secret loot dungeon in The Bleeding Stitch herself. This guy clearly doesn’t know anything.

“Alright, I’ll browse a bit and come back.”

“Please do.”

Walking around, she runs her flowing hand over some fine clothing and some very fine hats. She wonders about being able to wear a hat, all while keeping one of her eyes on the shopkeeper that seems to be ignoring her. Feeling a little unnoticed and self conscious, Madam Bois coughs loudly, honestly a little too loudly, to get the attention of this man. He grunts a, “Yeah?” at her and continues sewing one thing he’s holding onto something else he isn’t holding.

She almost forgot that she’s an animated chifferobe filled with goodies. Maybe she can barter something with the man to get more information out of him. So, she rustles around within herself and finds some old bottles and a flask, “I found some items I want to uhh sell. Will these do?” As she pulls the items out from her drawers, she notices a tight twinge as the loot leaves her presence. It doesn’t feel good and she wants the loot back. She slowly pulls the items back over her drawers with a questioning look creeping across the grain of her wood. Nothing. Hmm, that’s odd. She figured it wouldn’t give her the same rush as before when she hoarded loot, but this time it’s like she knew their shapes and flavors from before. Curious. She walks them over to the counter and the man answers, “Sounds like a bunch of bottles and other nonsense that I can’t do nothin’ with. What else you got?”

She drops the bottles into her bottom drawer with a crashing flourish and reaches into an upper chest, ‘Oh!’ She thinks as her ribbony hands caress a soft fold and wrap around a delicate stitch, ‘This old bastard is going to love this.’ Madam Bois pulls out an elegant night gown covered in long pink tassels and fuzzy orange balls on the ends of delicate twisted ropes. The man puts his tools down and looks directly at the beautiful night gown, “Oh my.” He doesn’t even address the fact that an animated chifferobe is holding it up for him. “That is quite possibly the greatest piece I’ve seen all year.” Honestly Madam Bois feels like he CAN see her, but just doesn’t care she’s a giant mimic. It felt good to be perceived, but not judged for the first time.

Madam Bois stretches her mouth from corner to corner, absolutely beaming. The feeling is only slightly diminished by the moment of her remembering that she stole the thing and didn’t make it, so she can’t take full credit for it. But this old fart doesn’t know that. She, not so casually, adds, “Maybe this will get your memory working about that secret loot dungeon?” It was a wild shot, but I mean she found this place out of pure luck. It might work.

The man pulls off his multiple apparatuses and sets everything down on his workbench and finally looks directly at Madam Bois, “Listen lady, I can’t let you just wander in down there. The last guy I let go down there exploded in the first room and when the door unsealed all his stupid blood leaked back into my shop.”

“I don’t think I have blood.”

“Nice try lady.” He looks back to the beautiful night gown and runs his hands over it again. “Uhhg, listen.”

Madam Bois perks up to the change of tone in the man’s voice.

“I’m not going to let you down their solo. I have a rule about that…now. You’re going to have to wait until someone else comes in asking about that damned dungeon before I let you down there.”

“How long do I have to wait?”

“Honestly, I doubt it will be a long wait. I get idiots coming in every day trying to get down there.” He flips the gown over and glares at its wonderful and seamingly perfect stitching, “No offense lady.”

“None taken. I think.”

“Just wait a b–”

“The Bleeding Stitch! That’s why it’s called that! From the guy’s blood all over the floor.”

“No. That’s not why it’s called The Bleeding Stitch. Plus, that guy was in here years after I named her that. Look! Just browse around and I’ll point the next idiot that comes in for that damned place towards you.” He adjusts the gown, “Sorry again about the ‘idiot’.”

“Sounds good to me!”

“So, what do you want for the gown?”

“Huh?”

“I know a dealer that could toss this up on auction, but those contacts take time, so I can give you 1,000 today. Or, if you can wait a week we can do a consignment style… Uhh, you’re going to have to stop that if you want to stay in my shop.”

Madam Bois was drooling and licking individual teeth at the thought of getting 1,000 gold pieces, “Oh my. I can’t believe that. Must have just uhh *ahem* Yes, of course I the 1,000 gold would do finely sir.” She was just talking at the man and barely putting words in the right order, “Thanks you.”

The man shrugs and pulls out a pre-labeled wooden box of coins, “Here you go ma’am.”

“I’ll just take these and some other things browsing now…” Madam Bois slinks off behind a clothes rack and mercilessly starts devouring the box of coins from one end. Splinters and glints of gold splatter around her, but not a single shred of gold coin escapes from her maw.

The room goes dark and she enters a safe place within her chifferobe.

Madam Bois comes to and focuses towards the entrance of The Bleeding Stitch. Some other creatures are coming in and seem to start asking the grumpy shopkeeper some questions that she can’t hear. As she attempts to strain to hear them speaking, the owner points over towards her and she gasps, turns away, and tries to pretend she was looking at an old coat that seems to be made out of rats and old hats. The shopkeeper glares in her direction and motions the other patrons towards Madam Bois.

Madam Bois comes out from hiding under the stinky old rat coat, “These must be my adventuring companions!” Madam Bois is feeling great, she adjusts her drawers and licks her lips, “Time to get looting.”

– The End –