The Bear Necessities

The exact origin of The Sleuth is debated to this day. What is known is that approximately 3 days after the Great Exodus; out the city a congregation of bohemians laid down with crates of what was labeled as “culture” took flight at midnight. They came to the moor, not because they had to, but because they wanted to. Amongst the crowds of unhoused they dwelt, talking of how the new world would have a new society, a new culture, a new everything that they could be on the ground floor of. Unlike the old city where they complained of “normality” this city, the moor, had a chance to become a shining beacon of….well they never seem to have a consistent answer to that question. But they do have a center so that’s what matters. For as the moor grew, they built. And in the back part of a housing district they built what they stubbornly call a pleasure commons, even though to any viewer it was….well it was definitely an approximation of one if not a real thing. To avoid confusion though this little sleuth, under the direction of their leader, William Alfred Hunter AKA Billie Bearskin, name this place: The Bear Necessities.

Upon entering one is greeted by the enormous central room, it’s back displaying the famed Dynamic Organ of Billie Bearskin. It towers across the levels of the cultural center( which they legally have to call it due to a lawsuit from Pedantic and Co legal firm), pipes climbing all the way up to the aniline shaded glass skylights where the open in chrome capped bursts. Beneath them is a massive triptychesque console: to the left a panel of vertical turntables filled with records, to the right a series of music rolls, and in the center a towering panel of what appears to be a switchboard, though its switches are marked with strange numbers and symbols. Beneath that is a keyboard, and in front of that some sort of keyboard connected to everything else. And below that and fringing it are of course great horns to amplify and trumpet the monolithic music it makes. It is a monstrosity of musical engineering. It is a wonder of the audible arts. “It’s my child” says Bearskin. To the left of the great dance floors( tiered by the sort of dancing one likes to do with balconies and staircases connecting) stands a library and theatre for the public, beneath which lay the great public baths which are a source of income for the center, and to the right are the vast dormitories, laboratories, conservatories, and every other variety of torie that might be needed for such a place as this. There is also a winter garden but that isn’t as important. “We just thought it would be neat” says the descriptor beneath its plaque of brass.

Of course that is not why the citizens of the moor have come to it tonight. Tonight they have come for a celebration, a great festival akin to none other so far thrown in the moor( which isn’t a high bar considering the newness but still) that has no name beyond “the stomp”. The people enter the great central hall, vapors pouring over everything. The cover is relatively steep for non ticketed attendees, and upon entering it is shown why. It is made warm( 10 degrees Celsius at most. A rarity in larger buildings.) by the great throngs of people and by the pumping of scented vapors that give a diaphanous quality to the lantern light that illuminates the place. Eventually when the center is full all but one limelight goes out. And into that light steps a large man wearing a bearskin and handmade clothes, his beard and hair let loose from their usual containment to reveal them adorned with beads. He steps up to the keyboard, and pulls up the microphone, holding it with the solemnity of a statue: “citizens of the moor, it is my delight to announce….THE WHITEOUT IS OVER!!!!” And thus the music starts. A raucous and strange cacophony of notes and tones and timbres which collide with each other into a viscous mess of sound that flows over the crowd like berry wine. The party lasts for hours, eventually ending with a grand finale as the sun rises to a fanfare of steam powered brass. Outside, the winter is eternal. Outside, things are new and strange. Outside, the future opens wide and unfamiliar. But in here, for one night each fortnight, it is beautiful.

OOC

So I got bored and decided to make a dance club/culture center in The Moor. Is this so I can have an excuse to have large scale orchestra music as well as dance music exist? Pretty much? Idk I kinda just wanted to illustrate more of the city’s culture. And also give an explanation for what Billie does for his art besides asking people in the middle of snowstorms about their life story. Also please feel free to interact in regards to The Stomp.