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Moving through the sleepy burghs where the activity is determined by the rising and sleep cycles of livestock, you can nearly forget the bustle of a trade city in full swing. The bellowing of fishmongers in the morning, sawing and hammers striking throughout the day, and the raucous celebrations of night life. The deep ringing notes of bronze bells calling the quarter hour and hours cut through the noise, providing a steady undertone throughout the smells and sights of city life. All the while, at the dockyards guiding the loading and unloading of ships, and at the stables where oxcarts leave the gates laden with goods, merchants ply their trade. Firm handshakes seal deals from the humblest tradesman to the highest noble Houses and Grand Companies, deals backed by Lorian steel and gunpowder.

>Previous Threads: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Open%20Roads%20Quest

As always, we are Tristan Stonyfield, of the Port Josiah Stonyfields. The estate of the Gray Stonyfields is low to the ground, squat and forboding, formed of well-fitted granite stones. Not a family pre-disposed to flagrant flashiness, it’s surprisingly defensible with its spike-topped fences and iron-bound gates. It is a bit disconcerting to see gray pennants with green boulders, inverted from your Branch’s own coat of arms. Subtly, it implies that your own branch is inferior to the Trunk, forever destined to serve, instead of setting the course for the House’s future. You’re still looking at the hanging pennants when you hear the door opening at the other side of the hallway.

[1/4]
>>
>>4846607


“So, if I’ve got it right, I’m supposed to eat with the cutlery from the outside in, right? It makes sense, I think. Still, it’s a bit weird how formal it all is.” Miguel’s tenor is a bit subdued with nervousness as you turn towards the approaching men. Strange to see him wearing something more formal. Pretty sure I can still see the fold lines from wherever he was storing it. “Usually back home, everything’s served out on the plate in front of the table, and everyone has their own eating set.”

“Interesting. No, they pride themselves on formal manners in engagements like this. Stiff backs, genteel talk, and sitting at the table in accordance to importance. Of course, later in the evening there will be business talks over brandy and cigars afterwards, much less formal than a proper meal.” Victor’s voice carries well across the hall, as you’d expect from the heavyset playwright. He’s dressed well like usual, likely in the hopes of talking to your aunt Carol about future business. “Why would they serve it out on the table, with their own sets? Seems a bit gauche, like you don’t trust the host to provide anything.”

“Probably because they think you’re going to add in a bit of that ‘secret sauce’ of your own.” Tomas’ creaky bass tone interjects from behind the others. You could barely see him between the tall Meyard man, and the rotund bulk of Victor Sparrow. At least he left that ratty old white cloak in his room, even if the robes could be a bit more ostentatious. “After all, those short devils love their poisons, heard they even have special words for how someone is dies that way. Evening Tris, hopefully we didn’t make you all wait too long. Those hot baths are something else, eh?”

>[Surly] “Aye, one of the perks of living in an estate like this. I heard they found the spring as a leftover from the Forging years while establishing the property.” It’s a marvel indeed that the enchantments at the base of the baths were still functional, given the age. Not everyone has that luxury at hand these days.

>[Gregarious] “Aye, beats the creek. Have any of you seen Snorri? I’d prefer if we all went in at once, rather than walk through piecemeal.” You’d rather provide a united front when you enter, with you at the head. The effect would be ruined if your scarred and taciturn elven retainer stumbles through the door while everyone else is seated.

>[Pragmatic] “That sounds like a bad way to go. Here Sooty, you look nervous. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t bother trying to poison your meal here.” Try to cheer up your smith a little, and correct any of his mannerisms that may cause offence. Besides, the family doesn’t use poison when they’re displeased. Cold steel suffices for that measure.

>[Write-in?]

[2/2]
>>
>>4846610

>what by the seven merciful winds is this about and what happened last thread? I don’t feel like reading the archives

This is a quest about mercantile endeavours, trying to gain enough Value and Profit to prove that you are a viable candidate to join the Brazen Cairn Grand Company. Your House isn’t exactly prosperous or powerful, so you’ll have to bring a substantial Profit home from the lands of Jironth to secure it. Currently, you’re staying with the Trunk family in the city of Iskander, one of the last major Lorian settlements you can expect to see for months. You have a lot of business to get to over the course of the next four days, as well as a social engagement to help pay your way. At least the estate is secure and filled with servants, so you have more hands available for getting things moved around. You also had a heart-to-heart with Snorri last thread, and things got emotional between the both of you. Emotional enough that rumours are starting to spread through the caravan, to your chagrin.

>what do we roll for anything? looks complicated.

Anytime a roll is called for, it will be a Best of Two 1d100s, with degrees of successes. You currently hold one re-roll to be used at your discretion, and one charge of FATE to avert a Crit-Fail result, or change an opponent’s Crit-Success to a regular Failure. Re-rolls replenish slowly, roughly over the course of a week or when you arrive in a new town. FATE can be restored, but it will take a significant amount of effort to do so, like preventing a catastrophe or stopping a war from breaking out through diplomatic endeavours. Piling on the modifiers is to your benefit, as they increase the chances of higher grade of Success, and reduce the odds of Failure. However, MIRACLEs and DISASTERs can strike at any time.

>how we doing so far?

You’re currently at 1,177.05 Perceived Value (1,502.05 after factoring in your hidden Grey Market Goods). Still a long way from your goal of 1,825.25, but you haven’t reached markets to sell at yet, and it can change after you cross the border, with markets that’ll appreciate your Goods ahead of you. You’re currently sitting at 4 Days each of Medium-grade Food, Water, and Feed, 4 days of Beer, 9 days of Coal, and an acceptable amount of Metal.

[3/4]
>>
>>4846612

>is there any pastebins to explain shit?

Here they be. They’re up to date as of last thread, and will probably be worked on sometime again this thread.
https://pastebin.com/pb8GTem0 Inventory, Stipends, and in-depth Goods and Value of the Caravan.
https://pastebin.com/6kC5LrwZ Mechanics of how Value is determined from your Inventory.
https://pastebin.com/uJ1WpYNQ Mechanics of how Re-rolls and Fate are used in the Quest.
https://pastebin.com/DSJCJFwK In-depth description of how the degrees of success work out, with examples and shit.
https://pastebin.com/zg8r18TN Pastebin listing Tristan’s current traits and descriptions as of last thread.

Feedback is always welcome, and if you ever have questions about the setting, I’ll answer them with what Tristan knows about the situation. Write-ins are always welcome, and will be taken as written, for better or worse.

[4/4]
>>
>>4846610
>[Pragmatic] “That sounds like a bad way to go. Here Sooty, you look nervous. Don’t worry, they wouldn’t bother trying to poison your meal here.” Try to cheer up your smith a little, and correct any of his mannerisms that may cause offence. Besides, the family doesn’t use poison when they’re displeased. Cold steel suffices for that measure.
>>
>>4846610
>>[Gregarious] “Aye, beats the creek. Have any of you seen Snorri? I’d prefer if we all went in at once, rather than walk through piecemeal.” You’d rather provide a united front when you enter, with you at the head. The effect would be ruined if your scarred and taciturn elven retainer stumbles through the door while everyone else is seated.
>>
>>4846610
>>[Gregarious] “Aye, beats the creek. Have any of you seen Snorri? I’d prefer if we all went in at once, rather than walk through piecemeal.” You’d rather provide a united front when you enter, with you at the head. The effect would be ruined if your scarred and taciturn elven retainer stumbles through the door while everyone else is seated.
>>
>>4846620

>listen mang, they aren't going to poison ya like a rat, they'll just cut you up, no biggie.

>>4846628

>godsdamnit, where is that bloody retainer of mine? if we all have to play nice, she's playing nice too, curse her eyes.

Giving it another 15 minutes for a tie-break, then rolling for it to get this ball a-moving.
>>
>>4846682
The tie has been broken, my good QM!
>>
>>4846620

>[Pragmatic]

>>4846628
>>4846680

>[Gregarious]

Called and writing.
>>
The thought of perfectly hot water that never gets cold still brings a tear to your eye. You make a mental note to take advantage of it as much as you can before you go on the road again. “Aye, it beats the creek, for sure.” You look around after adjusting your hat, not seeing the missing fourth person from your little retinue. “Have any of you seen Snorri? It’s not like her to be late for things, and I’d rather provide a united front instead of showing up piecemeal.”

Miguel looks uncomfortable in his hose, adjusting the crotch so it fits better. Toma shrugs, and Victor looks thoughtful. “I’m not sure, precisely. I know she’s staying in a different room from everyone else, with Dame Erica and Miriam. Said something about how she could finally sleep away from the rest of the men and their ‘Damnable snoring that could cause an avalanche on the other side of the fjord.’ A bit remiss of someone who’s nickname is Snorey, begging your pardon.”

You look over at Victor, giving him a disapproving look. “You’d best not say that around her. She’s fought with others for smaller slights than that.” Memories of the scarred elf coming home nursing a broken nose, claiming that ‘You should’ve seent the other bugger Tris. Gonna be hard to keep your hat up when you’re missing an ear now, ya bastard,’ flow back as you warn him. “It means ‘Quickly Turning’, from what my father told me once. Said she earned it back in the day before coming into our service.”

Victor at least has the decency to look apologetic as Tomas leers. “Eh, you’d best be careful there Vic. She might have a hard time wrapping her legs around you, but I doubt she’d let that hold her back when she’s feeling feisty.” He gives you a big exaggerated wink, reminding you about the Bridge Incident again. A deep sigh escapes you as he continues. “You might just have to pry her off with a stick, eh?”

Miguel chimes in before you respond in turn, thankfully cutting the line of thought off before things get even more awkward. “So then, where were they staying then Victor? The sooner it’s over with, the sooner I can get out of these tights.” Victor makes a grandiose gesture and walks away to a different part of the guest wing, going up a heavily varnished staircase.

A few discreet turns down an airy and well-lit hallway, and you think you hear raised voices ahead of you. What sounds like muffled arguing gets a bit clearer as you approach the elm door. “...why is this feckking thing so stiff? ...it’s not that bad Snorri, honest...” You pause before the door, suddenly filled with trepidation. Looking over at your fellows, Victor seems suddenly interested in the cleanliness of his nails, Sooty doesn’t seem to have heard anything going on, and Tomas is leering like a fox at a henhouse, motioning you onwards towards it.

[1/2]
>>
>>4846756

>[Surly] “We’ll wait out here gents. No need to rush them on this.” If you know anything about the fairer sex, it’s that they do not appreciate being intruded upon in their sanctum from man. You’d rather not have an angry hunter, knife thrower, or sword-dancer on your hands tonight. Not if you want to sleep soundly.

>[Gregarious] “Here, is everything going on alright in there? Just wondering how much longer it will be.” Grasp the nettle firmly, and knock on the door. He who dares, wins, in the immortal words of Saint William. Option available due to [Foolhardy] trait.

>[Pragmatic] “Well, check in them man. We’re already running a bit late, no sense in waiting on the meal to get cold.” No need to get your hands dirty, when you have people for that. Pick one of the following to address the door on your behalf. [Sooty, Victor, Tomas].

>[Write-in?]

[2/2]
>>
>>4846760

Forgot the image of the Door, mea culpa.
>>
>>4846760
>>[Pragmatic] “Well, check in them man. We’re already running a bit late, no sense in waiting on the meal to get cold.” No need to get your hands dirty, when you have people for that. Pick one of the following to address the door on your behalf. [Sooty, Victor, Tomas].

Victor
>>
>>4846808

>listen Vic, two out of the three women in there are part of your troupe. It's just simple math bro.

Called and writing, last update for the night.
>>
Dammit, missed the vote.
>>
>>4846841

No worries anon, the next one will be open for a few days until the next session. Plenty of time to get a vote and discussion going around!
>>
>[Pragmatic] action taken. Chose Victor.

Stepping away from the door, you make a sweeping gesture towards it while locking eyes with Victor when he looks up from cleaning his fingernails. “Well, check in on them man. No sense in waiting for the food to get cold.” Victor looks a bit taken aback, and you hear sniggering from where Tomas is skulking.

“Well, Tristan, I mean, we’re looking for Snorri, correct? It’d be right for you to ask after her, since she is your retainer.” You glare at the taller man, crossing your arms defiantly while Miguel finally clues in to what is going on, his face starting to flush a bright red from his collar to his unruly black hair.

“Two out of the three women in there are of your troupe Victor. As the senior member of the venture, I suggest that you look into the well-being of your fellow entertainers.” Victor sighs, and knocks on the door with a sharp rat-tat-a-tat-tat. The muffled arguing dies down, and the door creaks open dangerously. You can see a glimpse of Dame Erica’s face in the sliver of room exposed.

“Hey bossman, what’s happening?” Her tawny eyes dart over to the others, and it crinkles up a bit in dawning appearance. “I see you’ve brought guests with you.”

“Yes, well, we were looking for Miss Snorri. She was supposed to be accompanying us to the meal with Tristan’s family.” There’s a sharp twanging noise in the room as Victor explains the situation.

“Blasted whale-bone, better off using ya for a comb than this shite. And that’s Mrs. Snorri to you, ya tub of guts! Don’t think I can’t hear ya, even if this thing is trying to squeeze all my air out!” The strident soprano of your trusted retainer overpowers Erica’s reply, and you can feel the eye-rolling at the door.

“Honestly Snorri, it’s the height of fashion right now to get that wasp-waisted figure.” The quiet tones of Miriam float through while Erica opens the door a little bit more. You think you hear more mumbled arguments about human fashions while the knife-thrower speaks up again.

“She’ll be just a few more minutes.” She pauses briefly, and mutters in a low voice. “At least, so long as she doesn’t break another one.” You hear something get thrown and hit the door with a crash, and she winces. “Oops, best get back to it.” Straining, you think you pick up, ‘...that’s what you call a throw, I’d hate to...’ before turning to the others. Tomas hasn’t stopped grinning, and Miguel is rubbing his face in his hands. Guess we’re waiting then.

[1/2]
>>
>>4846903

It’s what feels like five or six more minutes of awkward silence when the door opens again. Miriam sketches a dainty curtsey as Snorri storms out of the room in a huff. She’s wearing a rather chaste green-and-black dress, with the telltale pinched waist of a corset to exaggerate her figure. You catch Tomas’ eyes dropping down when she turns back towards the door and slams it hard enough to practically rattle the hinges off. “Feckking whale vomit, swear on the fathers that I’ll find the arsehole who came up with this shit, and strangle him with his precious feckking laces.” She whirls back to the lot of you, her grey eyes promising storms before flicking her braid over her shoulder. “Let’s get some feckking grub.”

You do your best to ignore the chatter behind you, preferring to focus on the days ahead of you. So, I’ll need to talk to the Blackbirds, source more food and feed, find some more oxen for sale, and broker some good steel and coal for the road. Plus take care of Hettie at that little party. Gods, maybe I can delegate some of this off to someone else. The doors to the hall open, and you plaster on your no.1 smile, with the right mix of earnestness, warmth, and even the crinkles up at the corners of the eye. You all take your seats, and the rest of the family follows suit at the head of the table.

A lot of the initial pleasantries and conversation is lost on you, your thoughts whirling with numbers and figures. You’ve barely even noticed the well-seasoned beef on the plate, even with the piquant brown sauce accompanying it and the thinly-sliced carrots. The meal passes in relative peace with barely any faux pas being made, despite at least two of your personnel lacking familiarity with high-class etiquette. When the dishes are sent away, and the wine and dainties are brought out, you finally come back down to join in on one of the conversations.

>Snorri and uncle Arin are talking pretty animatedly. Hunting stories most likely, alternating between boasting and actual advice.

>Aunt Carol is rather engrossed in talks with Victor. She is a patron of the arts from what you recall, and he is an excellent salesman.

>Hettie has Miguel cornered like a rat. She means well, but judging by his plaintive expression, he’s desperately afraid of causing offense that would get everyone in trouble.

>Surprisingly, cousin Drew is talking to the low-born Tomas of his own volition. He’s even smiling, and Tomas is packing his pipe. Must be something interesting.

>Write-in?

Next session will kick off on the 3rd of June, at 01:30 UCT. If anything comes up between now and then, I’ll give warning in the thread. Have a good one, and take care out there!

[2/2]
>>
>>4846904
Whoa! Four options! We're getting crazy over here.
>Surprisingly, cousin Drew is talking to the low-born Tomas of his own volition. He’s even smiling, and Tomas is packing his pipe. Must be something interesting.
Miguel might need help, but Hettie's nice. Drew is decidedly not.
>>
>>4846904
>>Hettie has Miguel cornered like a rat. She means well, but judging by his plaintive expression, he’s desperately afraid of causing offense that would get everyone in trouble.
>>
>>4846908

I mean, you could also go outside and smoke alone, that's always an option. No one is SAYING you have to be the social butterfly, after all.
>>
>>4846904
>>Surprisingly, cousin Drew is talking to the low-born Tomas of his own volition. He’s even smiling, and Tomas is packing his pipe. Must be something interesting.

If Drew is getting friendly with one of our crew, it's probably not a good thing. I trust Hettie to encourage Miguel to not be so worried.
>>
>>4846904
>Surprisingly, cousin Drew is talking to the low-born Tomas of his own volition. He’s even smiling, and Tomas is packing his pipe. Must be something interesting.
>>
>>4846908
>>4847630
>>4848113

>you don't trust your cousin getting chummy with your resident magic man

>>4846911

>save Miguel from the dastardly grips of interacting with the fairer sex

Called and writing.
>>
>Chose to interact with [Tomas and Cousin Andrew]

Noticing cousin Drew talking to Tomas, clearly someone of low-born status, of his own free will can’t help but tweak your danger senses. He never talks to them, beyond a haughty reprove. Gods, there’s even smiling. I’d better look into it. As you cross the room from where you were sitting, you meet Sooty’s eyes by chance, a brief hope rising in them like the first promising buds on a bush in spring. You smile sadly, and gently shake your head once. That precious bud withers in the chill of a surprise cold snap, dying on the vine as you briefly catch a snatch of Hettie’s enthusiastic voice in full tutoring mode. “See, if you take the time to memorize it, it’s really easy to remember the order you use the forks in. Here, this is a rhyme Mother told me when I was twelve...”

Shaking aside the brief trill of disappointment, you focus on the task ahead. Drew is talking as you approach, and Tomas gives you a brief nod while the words flow out. “Fascinating. You know, I never would have thought to use Langston’s method. Tell me, have you seen much use for nettles? I know there’s a tea you could make with them, said to ease pain.”

Tomas finishes packing his pipe, and holds it by the bowl, using the stem for punctuation. “Aye, I heard tell of using it for a folk remedy. It’s alright enough, if you can’t get willow bark. Now, if you use rosehips, besides making a lovely jam, they can also help fight off disease and infection. Notably though, it only works with fresh ones, not dried. I think it’s due to some of the juices internally evaporating in the drying process. Still tastes good though, if a bit floral. Hello Tris, finally down from having your head in the clouds?”

Andrew notices you then, his genuine smile twisting a bit more into a sneer as you speak up. “Sorry for not being all there, gentlemen. Thinking a lot about the road ahead and what to do in the city, you know how it is.” Drew pointedly sniffs, while Tomas sets his pipe between his lips and nods sagely.

“Aye, I know Tris. Telling you truthfully, I’m glad of it. Beats some of the caravaneers I’ve been with before. Gods, that Carling fellow couldn’t read a room if his life depended on it.” Tomas makes to snap his fingers over the bowl when you grab them. He first looks at them, then at you, his eyes narrowing.

“No smoking indoors, Aunt Carol dislikes the smell. Why don’t we move it to the balcony?” Andrew nods and Tomas sighs dejectedly. “I remember the last row she had with Jess’ husband Edward. Isn’t that right Drew?”

[1/2]
>>
>>4850682

“Yes, she was in a bad mood for a week. I swear Mother must have turned over every leaf and pruned every last shrub in her garden three times over. It was a bad day to be a slug, that’s for certain.” He says, clearly hoping she didn’t hear him as the three of you move into the lilac scented air of the balcony. Tomas snaps his fingers over his pipe, your cigarillo, and the thin cigar Drew pulls out from a worked silver case. Andrew notices your surprised expression, and smiles before drawing it into a blazing ember. “What? You’re not the only one who enjoys fine tabac, Tristan.”

You listen in silence for a while as the two men start talking again. You follow along for a little bit, but after they start throwing around longer and more elaborate words, you can feel yourself getting lost in the talk. You think ‘pyrolize’ involves something with fire, and you pick up on the words ‘saltpeter’, because it’s used in making powder. Otherwise, a lot of it is starting to elude your simpler gymnasium education. That was more focused on arithmetic, logic, dialogue and the martial arts, a lot of these exotic words seem to be a whole other language. The way they’re talking in depth, you could probably slip away unnoticed after your smoke.

>[Surly] All this talk about methodology, herbalism, and uses for this obscure plant and that bore you worse than listening to stories about fishing. The night is still young, and you could stand to join less lofty conversations inside. Pick one from (Carol and Victor, Snorri and Arin, or Hettie and Miguel.)

>[Gregarious] “Really? Interesting. My word, those men think of everything yes? You don’t say.” You haven’t the faintest clue about what in-depth terms they’re using, but you could stand to learn something. Even if it is just how much of a bore Andrew must be at parties, talking about his precious plants all evening.

>[Pragmatic] “Well, if you liquidate some of the things, it should distill further down, correct? It would be easier if you use some of that glassware like what you have Tomas, instead of an open saucepan. Kind of like making brandy.” Try to keep up, relying on half-forgotten terms natural terms used at Liberté. Roll Required to not embarrass yourself.

>[Write-in?]

[2/2]
>>
>>4850687
>[Pragmatic] “Well, if you liquidate some of the things, it should distill further down, correct? It would be easier if you use some of that glassware like what you have Tomas, instead of an open saucepan. Kind of like making brandy.” Try to keep up, relying on half-forgotten terms natural terms used at Liberté. Roll Required to not embarrass yourself.
>>
>>4850687
>>[Pragmatic] “Well, if you liquidate some of the things, it should distill further down, correct? It would be easier if you use some of that glassware like what you have Tomas, instead of an open saucepan. Kind of like making brandy.” Try to keep up, relying on half-forgotten terms natural terms used at Liberté. Roll Required to not embarrass yourself.
>>
>>4850703
>>4850717

>well, if you synergize and liquidize, you can pyrolize the buckeyes to finalize some kind of pesticide. It's obvious, really.

>Roll Required! Target Value is 32 (40 Base, +3 for [Pragmatic], +1 for Passing Knowledge (Agricultural), +2 for Gymnasium Education, +2 for Trusted in Tomas, +2 for Confidant x2, +0 for Tomas' Aid (Negated due to Andrew's disdain for the Common Folk), -4 for Cousin Drew's [Shrewd] Trait, -5 for Prior History (Raucous), -3 for Opponent's (Higher Education), -2 for Knows You Don't Care About Plants, -2 for Alchemical Knowledge, -2 for ???)

You currently have 1 out of 1 Re-rolls in Stock, with 1 charge of FATE. Send up those 1d100s, and see if you can bullshit your cousin about something he deeply cares and knows about and you do not.
>>
Rolled 28 (1d100)

>>4850782
:(
>>
>>4850796

Give it another five minutes, then roll again to confirm the NARROW SUCCESS!
>>
Rolled 50 (1d100)

>>4850782
>>
>>4850796
>>4850816

>Best result is a 28. NARROW SUCCESS!

>Re-roll? Y/N. You have 1 out of 1 Re-Rolls available.

Will leave it open for re-rolls for 5 minutes, otherwise writing it up.
>>
>>4850821
N.

We're lucky to have gotten out of that with ANY success.
>>
>>4850821
N
>>
>[Pragmatic] action taken.

>Roll Required! Target Value is 32 (40 Base, +3 for [Pragmatic], +1 for Passing Knowledge (Agricultural), +2 for Gymnasium Education, +2 for Trusted in Tomas, +2 for Confidant x2, +0 for Tomas' Aid (Negated due to Andrew's disdain for the Common Folk), -4 for Cousin Drew's [Shrewd] Trait, -5 for Prior History (Raucous), -3 for Opponent's (Higher Education), -2 for Knows You Don't Care About Plants, -2 for Alchemical Knowledge, -2 for ???)

>>4850796
>>4850816

>Best result is a 28. NARROW SUCCESS! You don’t make a complete fool of yourself, and Cousin Drew’s relationship to you remains unchanged.

The big words being thrown around are starting to make your head swim. Something about various people’s methods that you can faintly recall hearing bubble up, and the two men are talking animatedly while you struggle to keep up. Occasionally you grip onto a familiar word like a limpet onto a rock, and try and navigate the conversation back towards shallower seas. You see a faint hint of contempt in Drew’s face every time you do this, but whenever he tries to trip you up, Tomas comes to your rescue.

“I mean, if it’s a matter of concentration, you could distill it further. It’s kind of like the process of turning wine into brandy, right? If you boil it, it should cling to the top of the funny shaped bottle named, what, Tomas?”

“An alembic Tris.”

“Thank you, an alembic. All the water boils off, and the stuff up top trickles back down, so it’s more potent. It’s kind of like skimming the slag off of molten iron, so that you get a purer iron without the impurities and such. Reduce it a bit, add in some carbon with a bit of flux to ease the way in the bloomery, and you get steel.” Drew rolls his eyes at your inelegant prose while Tomas nods approvingly, like a houndsmaster who just managed to get the hound to point at the quarry properly after a long ad grueling process.

“Aye, that’s part of it. Now, when you separate out some of the materials you can get in the common rhubarb, for example...” And, he’s lost you again. Apparently, the thing that makes you sick from eating rhubarb leaves or roots instead of the stem is ‘Oxalic’, some variety of acid. You don’t know what oxen have to do with it, but you nod along and try to not seem like a complete airhead. Given the way Drew looks enthralled as Tomas rattles on, you count this as a stalemate in your forays against him. At least he isn’t planning anything nefarious, just interested in what Tomas has to say about plants and alchemical preparations.

[1/2]
>>
>>4850956

The evening draws longer, and the three of you are joined briefly outside by Uncle Arin and Snorri taking a pinch of snuff. Arin’s head shakes from the rushing burn, and Snorri nods towards your blabbering cousin. You make a wiggling motion with your hand, and she just shrugs before taking a pinch from Arin’s admittedly nicer-looking snuffbox and snorting it up. The two men behind you are talking long still, and you think you heard them finally get off the topic of plants and their diseases. Thank the gods, I can only pretend to care about worms and fungus infestations so long.

“I still can’t believe that rebels would still take the chance to destroy a vital crossing this close to Iskander. It’s not in their modus operandi, as they say in Fransican cities.” Drew shakes his head sadly back and forth, his second smoke clenched between his left index and middle fingers while he looks down towards to the gardens below. “Even if they wanted to join up with the Haradeen, Iskander isn’t going to fall so fast as to not punish them severely.” He draws a long drag off the cigar, and blows the smoke out through his nostrils with the ease of a practiced smoker. “It just doesn’t make sense.”

>[Surly] “Look Drew, me and you have never seen eye to eye much in our history. Still, trust me in this. I would rather be a cooling corpse, than let those insurrectionist scum try to turn Loria into another Haradeen.” Spit on the flagstones as a measure of defiance against Merakash. Even if he is a damnable fop and dandy, Drew isn’t the type to support rebels operating in his county without lifting a finger in remonstration.

>[Gregarious] “Listen, me and Rob turned them on their backs, and he took a fair few of them hostage. Focus on your orchard and vineyard, and I’ll focus on my journey, eh? It’s in his capable hands, as well as the others with him.” Try to chivvy up your cousin from his melancholic mood. It’s strange to see him sad, strange enough to make you show some (in your opinion) undeserved amounts of sympathy towards him.

>[Pragmatic] ‘Aye cos, it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I mentioned it to Rob. The way the feckking Deeners ran away, anyone still in their thrall would try to get far away from Lorian power.” Nothing about the incident made sense from what you knew. Maybe you could pick your cousin’s brain over for the rebels next move. He knows more about the local situation than you do, and could probably elaborate on their movements.

[Write-in?]

[2/2]
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>>4850961
>>[Pragmatic] ‘Aye cos, it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I mentioned it to Rob. The way the feckking Deeners ran away, anyone still in their thrall would try to get far away from Lorian power.” Nothing about the incident made sense from what you knew. Maybe you could pick your cousin’s brain over for the rebels next move. He knows more about the local situation than you do, and could probably elaborate on their movements.
>>
>>4850961
>[Surly] “Look Drew, me and you have never seen eye to eye much in our history. Still, trust me in this. I would rather be a cooling corpse, than let those insurrectionist scum try to turn Loria into another Haradeen.” Spit on the flagstones as a measure of defiance against Merakash. Even if he is a damnable fop and dandy, Drew isn’t the type to support rebels operating in his county without lifting a finger in remonstration.
>>
Damn, forgot to include the picture of alembics that I meant to in the second post instead of Tomas' pipe. Oh well, here it is now, cause I doubt I'll use it in the rest of this thread.
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>>4850961
>[Pragmatic] ‘Aye cos, it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I mentioned it to Rob. The way the feckking Deeners ran away, anyone still in their thrall would try to get far away from Lorian power.” Nothing about the incident made sense from what you knew. Maybe you could pick your cousin’s brain over for the rebels next move. He knows more about the local situation than you do, and could probably elaborate on their movements.
>>
>>4850968
>>4850994

>eh cos, shit seems sus to me. you know anything about it?

>>4850978

>fuck them Deeners, I'd rather be a dead man than let them come to our lands, stealing our wimmen and shit

Called and writing.
>>
>[Pragmatic] action taken.

You stub out the cigarillo on your boot heel before leaning on the balustrade near Drew and looking out over the countryside. You see the lanterns of the guards moving at the gatehouse, getting ready for the change-over for the evening. It’s a bit strange, seeing the people here taking security more seriously. Even at the compound in Port Josiah, it seems more ritualized than this. You briefly entertain the thought of lighting another smoke, but bury it since you only have some much to last you the rest of your journey.

“Aye cos, it doesn’t make sense. That’s why I mentioned it to Rob. The way the feckking Deeners ran away in the war, anyone still in their thrall would try to get far away from Lorian power.” Drew looks towards you with a bit of distaste, but holds his tongue as you continue. “I still can’t wrap my head around how they got their hands on proper corned powder however. The Deener’s only use serpentine, and I’d sooner see a Fransican or Meridorite chew through their own legs before they’d sell a Deener powder.”

Drew sighs and stubs out his smoke on the limestone rail. A waste of tabac, as well as making a stain on the stone that would take an effort from the help to remove. “Yea Tristan, I know what you’re implying. If the Sickies or the Merries didn’t supply the powder, it must be Orthodoxy or Lorian make.” He leans back and rubs his face again while Tomas taps out the last of his embers on the railing, brushing the ashes down to the foliage below. “I don’t know, there’s too many variables to nail anything down with anything approaching finality.”

You feel a bit of charitable good-will well up in you, despite the fact that this cousin has caused you immense amounts of grief over the years. You pat him on the shoulder, showing a degree of companionship that you do not regularly feel towards him. “Well, the Leaguers are always an option too, cos. If it gets us at each other’s throats, it could give them an opening to weasel their way into the spice trade. Heavens knows, if I saw an opening to get two of my rivals at each other’s throat, I’d take it in a heartbeat, and blame it on independent forces.”

[1/2]
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>>4851203

Drew sighs again, dragging his finger on the railing in the ashes. “Yea, I suppose it could be Leaguer interference. It wouldn’t be the first time they tried to influence things on this side of the Calling Sea.” He looks forlornly at the lights and smoke of the city in the distance, still glowing bright against the sunset sky. “Still, I can’t help but feel things are going wrong at the base of the Coral Throne.”

>[Surly] “That’s not our place to say. After all, ‘We Shall Endure’, eh cos? No matter which branch either of us may be from, the motto is the same.” This level of thinking is above you. When you see the nail protruding from the wooden planks, you will do the best to hammer it back in line. Otherwise, things will snag on the protrusions, and make things worse.

>[Gregarious] “I can see a bit of where they’re coming from. Still, to turn against your countrymen, and sell everyone else down the river, I can’t condone it. Not for the price they’re asking.” Even if you feel a bit of egalitarianism towards the disenfranchised, you can’t justify the exploding of vital routes of trade or murder of those leading the way. It’s not the right way of doing things, and hurts everyone involved.

>[Pragmatic] “We can’t control the tides of fate. If the peasants’ revolt, we shall crush them. If the nobles turn against the Throne, we shall shatter them. If the Throne bends the knee, why, we shall stiffen their backs against foreign pressure.” You’re a Lorian, through and through, for better and for worse. Even if it is discovered that your love’s family is at fault, you will stand by your king. You’d rather die on your feet, than live on your knees.

[Write-in?]

[2/2]
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>>4851207
>>[Surly] “That’s not our place to say. After all, ‘We Shall Endure’, eh cos? No matter which branch either of us may be from, the motto is the same.” This level of thinking is above you. When you see the nail protruding from the wooden planks, you will do the best to hammer it back in line. Otherwise, things will snag on the protrusions, and make things worse.
>>
>>4851207
>[Surly] “That’s not our place to say. After all, ‘We Shall Endure’, eh cos? No matter which branch either of us may be from, the motto is the same.” This level of thinking is above you. When you see the nail protruding from the wooden planks, you will do the best to hammer it back in line. Otherwise, things will snag on the protrusions, and make things worse.
We're better in the day to day stuff-- no need to be putting on airs about politics, of all things.
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>>4851207
>>[Surly] “That’s not our place to say. After all, ‘We Shall Endure’, eh cos? No matter which branch either of us may be from, the motto is the same.” This level of thinking is above you. When you see the nail protruding from the wooden planks, you will do the best to hammer it back in line. Otherwise, things will snag on the protrusions, and make things worse.
>>
>>4851214
>>4851221
>>4851243

>for better or worse, family comes first cos. believe it.

Called and writing, probably last update for tonight.
>>
>[Surly] action taken.

Despite the theological arguments you’ve heard over the years, none of them have deterred your loyalty to the family’s overall benefit. Even if the Trunk has treated your own family like expendable assets throughout the years, you can’t help but agree that if you were in their position, you’d do the same. Send forth those who are willing, to defend those who are not against those who rise up.

“That’s not our place to say. After all, ‘We Shall Endure’, eh cos? No matter which branch either of us may be from, the motto is the same,” you say bitterly, feeling the commitments of family long buried holding you downwards to the turf below. Still, you know that it’s the duty of the Green to be subservient to the Gray, no matter how it chafes your soul.

Cousin Drew inhales sharply, clearing the remaining crud out of his sinuses. “Aye, We Shall Endure. No matter what, the family comes first.” He turns towards you, a hand extended out in greeting, a gesture unexpected from this branch of the family. “No matter what, come what may, we are the same, from root to leaf.” You clasp his hand firmly, locking with his blue eyes that are only seen on the Trunk branch.

“Aye, come what may, I’d sooner see my own right arm off than see the trunk of the family removed from the roots. Believe me, my benefit is your own.” You grasp Andrew’s hand firmly, some doors in your future clanging shut while others creak open in return. Even if you knew about the twisting winds of fate from Tomas, what’s done is done, and cannot be undone.

>Gained [Familial Resolve] (Stonyfield)! When it comes to Familial disputes, you will stand by the Family, no matter what may come in the future.

The three of you stay at the balcony for the remainder of the evening, talking about things of no consequence. Most of the family have returned to their chambers while the three of you talk into the night about various alchemical products. You can tell that Tomas is going to be busy for the remainder of the time you will be in Iskander, trying to explain his techniques to the gardeners and Andrew.

[1/2]
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>>4851289


When you hear the crowing of cockerels in the morning, you still can’t help but pray that they find messy ends. Why do they wake up so early, when any god-fearing soul would prefer to wake up later to work late through-out the day? Still, with the cock’s crow informing you that the day is young, you decide to get some of your business dealt with now, before things get complicated.

[Surly] Despite Snorri’s expertise, you’d rather deal with the Blackbirds now. The sooner you can get these mercenaries integrated with your personnel, the sooner they will fall in line, and integrate properly. You’d prefer any blades against you be in the front, rather than behind you.

>[Gregarious] This is a day where nobody should hopefully know about you and yours, and you aren’t tied into the Trunk’s business. If you want to skulk around to gather information or pick up eccentricities, today’s the best day to do it.

>[Pragmatic] Spend today getting ready for guarding cousin Heather at her party. Confirm arms, sharpen blades, and put a shine on your equipment. Even if you won’t get much done, you’ll make an impression tonight, and the political capital can’t be ignored.

>[Write-in?]

Next session is slated for 01:30 on June 7th. There may be a couple drawfag style updates between now and then, but I’m probably gonna focus on the one-shot in the future while I’m in the middle of fucking nowhere. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes in-between now and then. Have a good one, and take care out there!

[2/2]
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>>4851291
>[Gregarious] This is a day where nobody should hopefully know about you and yours, and you aren’t tied into the Trunk’s business. If you want to skulk around to gather information or pick up eccentricities, today’s the best day to do it.
>>
>>4851291
>>[Pragmatic] Spend today getting ready for guarding cousin Heather at her party. Confirm arms, sharpen blades, and put a shine on your equipment. Even if you won’t get much done, you’ll make an impression tonight, and the political capital can’t be ignored.
>>
>>4851291
>>[Pragmatic] Spend today getting ready for guarding cousin Heather at her party. Confirm arms, sharpen blades, and put a shine on your equipment. Even if you won’t get much done, you’ll make an impression tonight, and the political capital can’t be ignored.

This is a bit too important to ignore. Let's get it done first.
>>
Hey everyone, sorry for the radio silence over the last few days. Family tragedy happened over the weekend to my extended family, and had to be there as emotional support for them. Should be able to update tonight, and will try to run a session each weeknight this week, since things are starting to ramp up on the job front, and I want to get this to a decent conclusion before I go on that training-related hiatus.
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>>4860252
No prob Weldy, I honestly thought the session was on the 8th so I wasn't concerned.
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>>4860252
It's alright, Weldy. We Shall Endure!
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>>4860252
No biggie Weldy, RL comes first
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>>4860252
No rush, man--wishing you and your family all the best.
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>>4851296

>screw responsibilities, you're in one of the biggest trading cities on the Calling Sea. time to see what's up 'round here

>>4851298
>>4851557

>shiiiet, better not fuck this up tonight. otherwise, uncle arin might just kick us out for it.

Called and writing. Thanks for bearing with the delays.
>>
>[Pragmatic] action taken.

The mysterious vendors and opportunity awaiting you in Iskander is enough to make any merchant worth their set of brass scales salivate. Still, that enthusiasm for investigating mercenary hires, oddity shops, or the family’s ironworks is tempered by the cold realization of playing nice and looking vaguely threatening at Hettie’s party tonight. Visions of barter and haggling are replaced by visions of weak tea, tiny sandwiches, and thin wine. Sighing, you instead resolve to put a healthy shine on all of your accoutrements tonight. Hopefully I get the chance to visit the Shoreside district tomorrow. Missing the chance to look through the small shops would just about seal the deal on this being a write-off.

Stepping through the hallways, you nod amiably towards hurried servants, responding to rushed curtsies and shallow bows. Must be something to do with forty or so unexpected guests dropping in like a flock of gulls. One of your guards, Garret, broken nose and thick accent. sketches a lazy salute as you enter the area housing the caravan’s weaponry and armor. “G’morning messir, how are you today?”

“Well enough Garret. Tell me, where did Lionel and the others have my armour stored?” The guard thumbs over his shoulder, pointing towards a nearby crate. A few of the other men are hard at work maintaining gear at a couple of trestle tables and benches set up for the occasion.

“O’er there messir. Should be in the heap with the others, I saw the boy working on them a little this morning.” He presses on one side of his nose, and blows loudly, a clump of something nasty hitting the floor. “Sorry about that messir, all these flowers are playing merry hell with my nose.”

You just wave him off with a waggling gesture, and walk over towards the area. A few of the more observant guards makes space for you at the table, and you withdraw your weapons from their sheathes and lay them on a section of oil-cloth. The conversation takes a brief pause, before re-starting, the content becoming a bit more guarded in nature due to your presence. Placing a bit of oil onto a cloth and taking up a whetstone, you begin the long and dirty process of honing edges, polishing features, and removing faint scratches from the finishes.

>Gained the [Well-Maintained Arms] bonus! +3 for all social interactions of a martial nature for the next two days.

It’s as you’re taking up a bit of polish and putting a healthy shine on your rapier’s hilt that one of the guards clears his throat. It looks to be Hector, the fellow who was bodyguarding you in Angelsfield a lot. Probably put up to it by the others.

“So, messir, pardon the impertinence and all. How many of us were you planning on taking to that shindig tonight?” You can feel the suctioning air as they all try to look like they're not eavesdropping, some with more success than others.

[1/2]
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>>4860956

>[Surly] “Only myself and Snorri will be attending. No need to break out the lot of you for a formal occasion like this.” Both of you will be dressed in civilian attire, but clearly armed. It’s a formality, more to stave off duels of honour and provide an escort rather than anything you’d be heavily armed for. Snorri will likely be grumpy due to wearing fashionable clothing instead of armour, but that’s a cross you’re willing to bear to not make waves and let your men take advantage of the break to prepare accordingly.

>[Gregarious] “Why, a glittering host, as befits a young maiden of House Stonyfield. Only the best for the Trunk, after all.” You’ll provide a full cohort, with everyone heavily armed and armoured to make an impression. Most of the other Houses may think it boorish to bring so much muscle, but you’d rather have enough at hand to prevent incidents. Select 4 [Guards] from the Roster, with the exception of Lionel, as he is required at the Estate.

>[Pragmatic] “A couple of you will be with us. A bit of steel showing beneath the silk, just in case some people get funny ideas.” Yourself and Snorri will be dressed in civilian attire, and you’ll bring two guards in steel with arms as a reserve. It’s around what is expected of you, even if some of the other Houses may find it a bit overkill. Select 2 [Guards] from the Roster, with the exception of Lionel, as he is required at the Estate.

>[Write-in?]

House Guards

>Marcel. (Horseman) Has a mole on his chin, you usually commandeer his Rouncey when taking over a guard role.
>Marcus. Waxes his mustache, older than most of the other guards.
>Jeremy. Bad beard, like he was interrupted halfway through eating a hedgehog.
>Gregory. ???, Apparently gets confused with Hector to you.
>Hector. Has a squint, did a lot of the bodyguarding in Angelsfield.
>Jared (H) Hard to remember his name with his thick accent. Bit of a troublemaker, apparently, although it's hard to prove anything.
>‘Black’ John. Can wrestle, is currently teaching Nathaniel. Fancies himself a ladies man, troublemaker.
>Lionel (H) Snorri's second in command. Has a carbine, used to serve with the Royal Engineers.
>Peter. Lackadaisical in attitude, generally positive even when things are going to shit.
>Carl. The only guard who can cook worth a damn. Used to serve with the Earl Levitt's Foot in the day. Older than most of the other guards.
>Ryan. Not related to Bryan. Knows how to grapple.
>Bryan. Not related to Ryan. Got into trouble in Red Earth, not sure if he's a troublemaker or was caught up in it.
>Neil. Quiet, heavy tabac user. Surly, and has a thick country accent.
>Thomas. ???
>Randall (H). Buck teeth, horsey face. Seems nervous around Tristan?
>Vincent. Has bad breath??

[2/2]
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>>4860957
>[Pragmatic] “A couple of you will be with us. A bit of steel showing beneath the silk, just in case some people get funny ideas.” Yourself and Snorri will be dressed in civilian attire, and you’ll bring two guards in steel with arms as a reserve. It’s around what is expected of you, even if some of the other Houses may find it a bit overkill. Select 2 [Guards] from the Roster, with the exception of Lionel, as he is required at the Estate.
>Marcus and Hector
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>>4860957
>[Surly] “Only myself and Snorri will be attending. No need to break out the lot of you for a formal occasion like this.” Both of you will be dressed in civilian attire, but clearly armed. It’s a formality, more to stave off duels of honour and provide an escort rather than anything you’d be heavily armed for. Snorri will likely be grumpy due to wearing fashionable clothing instead of armour, but that’s a cross you’re willing to bear to not make waves and let your men take advantage of the break to prepare accordingly.

This seems like the best way to both make a good political statement and let the guards gain some extra morale from resting. If something bad happens, I think we'll be able to handle it.
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>>4860962

>bring two of the lads with you, in case some amount of shit hits the fan

>>4860963

>bring yourself and your elf, should be around what everyone else is bringing to the table for it

Leaving it open for another 10 minutes for a tie-breaker, otherwise rolling for it to move things along.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>4861006

Rolling for it, with 1 being [Pragmatic], and 2 being [Surly].
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>>4860962

>[Pragmatic], with Marcus and Hector.

>>4860963
>>4861025

>[Surly]

Called, and writing.
>>
>[Surly] action taken.

You set aside the gleaming rapier, putting it back into the scabbard with a barely audible click. “Only myself and Snorri will be attending. No need to break out the lot of you for a formal occasion like this.” It’s a simple matter to ignore the collective exhale of relief from the crowd. At least a few of them, Gregory and Randall have the decency to look a bit shameful when you look around the table.

“Honestly messir, that’s probably a safe bet. You let that bugger Jared around high society, probably would nick the silverware off the tables.” Neil mentions, a bulge in his lip betraying packed tabac. The man whose name you thought was Garret sniffs at that, his accent getting a bit thicker with a mocking lilt in it.

“I never did nuttin’ wrong, and none of you bastards could prove it anyways. ‘Sides Neil, din’t want you gobbing that backy juice all over their fine carpets. Betcha none of them lords and ladies would have a spitter handy for ya.” This blazing salvo opens the floodgates, with each of your various guards trying to determine precisely who would be the worst possible candidates to bring along. It eventually gets narrowed down to between ‘Black’ John, who’d probably wind up in flagrante delicto with someone important, or Randall getting his nerves up and committing a faux pas, causing an honour duel with a championship rapierist. Your inclusion of Vincent was a strong contender, but the decision that he could hide his bad breath with a healthy amount of mint leaves put it to rest as a worthy contender. Later on, when you mention to Snorri the plan of the honour guard just being the two of you in finery with a formal set of weapons, she’s less than enthused.

“Listen Tris, I don’t like it. Those high society mogs always give me the stink-eye when I wear me dagger and blade with a dress. Says it’s uncouth, and unfitting of a lady. At least if I wear my plate, none could raise a peep.” She’s frowning hard, but you rub your temples, trying to ignore the growing headache.

“Look, you can probably come up with some reason for it. Claim elven tradition, I doubt any of them know anything about Jironth to grill you on it. If you were wearing your brigandine and weaponry though, it’ll put the others on edge. We’re an honour guard, supposed to look pretty but threatening, like a gilded pistol.” Snorri rubs her hands on her face, starting at her chin and working her way to the back of her head. You try not to comment as her longer ears press flat against the side of her head before flicking back out as she fiddles with her braid in an annoyed manner.

[1/2]
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>>4861056

“Uuugh, fine then. I’ll wear my bronze blade, since it was my bride-gift. Can’t go denying a married woman her bride-gift, it’s not proper. If it gets damaged or goes missing though, there’ll be hell to pay Tris.” She finishes the sentence by pointing a finger admonishingly at your nose. You slap it aside with a heavy sigh, and dismiss her to get ready for the event.

Around midday, you briefly stop by and check in with the rest of the caravan to see what their plans are for the rest of the day. From the sounds of it, Johnny is taking a few of the carters to see what kind of oxflesh is on the market, Sooty is planning on visiting the quay-side with a few of the men to track down his cousin in the Blackbirds after purchasing some more metallic goods, and Tomas was going to visit Tannery Lane to pick up some reagents for his alchemical works. You make note to send some extra funds with one of the groups, to ensure success with their endeavours.

>[Surly] You trust Johnny intensely. He’s a hard bargainer, and knows his way around livestock and wagons. Giving him some extra spending money will help prevent you from needing to personally handle the negotiations on picking up more animals. Send 15 Caravan Wealth with him.

>[Gregarious] Sooty is a bit of a mark for unscrupulous people, but if you send a couple of the more savvy guards with him, he should be able to arrange a meeting with the Blackbirds on favourable terms. Besides, he knows his way around metal markets, and can pick out a vendor that would give you a fair rate. Send 15 Caravan Wealth with him.

>[Pragmatic] Tomas has a good nose for deals, and knows best of what he’ll need to create some of the more esoteric products of his. Even if they may be a bit more expensive this way, you can ensure that he’ll be able to make more things like lucifers or poultices that will be sure-fire sellers in the more isolated townships in Harade. Send 15 Caravan Wealth with him.

>[Write-in someone else to send on a task for products or services that is not otherwise committed to a tasking.]

[2/2]
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>>4861058
>[Surly] You trust Johnny intensely. He’s a hard bargainer, and knows his way around livestock and wagons. Giving him some extra spending money will help prevent you from needing to personally handle the negotiations on picking up more animals. Send 15 Caravan Wealth with him.
>>
>>4861058
>>[Surly] You trust Johnny intensely. He’s a hard bargainer, and knows his way around livestock and wagons. Giving him some extra spending money will help prevent you from needing to personally handle the negotiations on picking up more animals. Send 15 Caravan Wealth with him.
>>
>>4861061
>>4861063

>trust in Johnny to find you a right good pair of hard-working mules and oxen.

Called and writing, probably last update for tonight.
>>
>[Surly] action taken.

“Aye messir Stonyfield, I’ll be sure to source us some good ones. I’ll bring Nathaniel, so he can learn what to look for, and a few of the other lads. You can trust in old Johnny to take care of things.” Johnny tugs at his forelock before accepting the handful of coinage and rings. They slide into a velvet bag with a faint klink, and he draws the strings shut firmly. “Just so I’m aware, it’s two sets of oxen you wanted, correct?”

“Yes, oxen would be preferred. Mules will work too, since they’ll be easy enough to rotate in with the others. Still, make sure that it’s at least two good teams that will work together. If it’s possible to get ones on the docile side, even better. That way, they won’t get antsy and try to pull ahead too far.” Memories of the old pair of Johnny’s that would barely listen to anyone else surface. It’s a simple matter to stifle them, and you add in one final remark to follow suit. “Besides, if you can find another wagon, that could help ease the burden by spreading it out as well. Make sure it’s a long one, with plenty of room for more supplies inside.”

>Sent 15 Caravan Wealth with Johnny! Current Caravan Wealth is 269.65.

“Aye messir, I’ll keep an eye out. Come on Nathan, lets see if we can find Pete and Rob to head out with us. Both of them were supposed to be off tonight.” The older drover takes the young apprentice with him in search of the other personnel. It’s tempting to follow suit and bargain for livestock and wagons, but damnable duty beckons. With tight hose, pointed boots, and false smiles. At least things aren’t likely to be much of a concern there. A faint tingle in your palms betrays your confidence, tamped down with the force of a posting mallet.

While the day winds further on, you finally feel ready to step off towards the coach. Aunt Carol insisted, claiming that having mud on Hettie’s shoes would cause her to die of shame. A brief and stilted conversation with the footmen helps kill the last of the time. As the coach driver tries to come up with something other than the gathering clouds to talk about, the faint sound of distant conversation gives you an out from the awkwardness.

“... way, I think you look fine Aunty. That shade of green really draws out the flecks in your eyes. Plus, it suits the beads in your braid, helps tie it all together.” Hettie decided to wear an ensemble of grey and black, faint emerald highlights and tracery adding to the overall look. It suits her, contrasting well against her reddish-brown hair with a ribbon woven into the plait.

[1/2]
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>>4861135

The various shades of green and grey on Snorri seem to have an altogether different effect, making her paleness almost sickly in tone. Whether that is from the clothing or her disgust at it, it’s hard to say. With a grimace like she bit into a fresh lemon, Snorri wrinkles her nose before answering. “Ehhh, you’re too kind Heather. I look like a trussed turkey with all these ties, and it’s a bloody nuisance to walk in this thing. Can barely do more than a mincing trot, like one of those blasted ponies they use on the parades. Oi Tris, it’s bad luck to wear the same hat two days in a row.” The two women notice you, and begin to load up into the carriage ahead of you.

>[Surly] “Mmhm, indeed. The most horrendous luck, surely.” Ignore the conversation, only adding in the odd quip to show willing. You’re more interested in the sights you’ll see on the city street in passing. Who knows what you may see, and besides, it’ll help clear out your thoughts for the evening ahead of you.

>[Gregarious] “Well, it is my best hat. What, would you have me wear my straw hat instead? I’m sure it would be a wonderful sight to see on the dancefloor.” Engage in some good-humoured bickering between the three of you. Even if Snorri might feel the urge for violence, you’re fairly confident you can take her with the amount of restrictive clothing she’s required to wear for the occasion.

>[Pragmatic] “Tell me, are you armed with something other than that fan? I’d hate to be the only one carrying a blade or a gun to this little event.” Snorri almost certainly is concealing something else, even if Hettie is unlikely to have anything on her person. You’d rather know what she may have up her over-sized sleeves, to aid in your tactical awareness.

>[Write-in?]

Next session will kick off tomorrow around 01:30 UCT. Have a good one, and take care out there!

[2/2]
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>>4861138
>>[Gregarious] “Well, it is my best hat. What, would you have me wear my straw hat instead? I’m sure it would be a wonderful sight to see on the dancefloor.” Engage in some good-humoured bickering between the three of you. Even if Snorri might feel the urge for violence, you’re fairly confident you can take her with the amount of restrictive clothing she’s required to wear for the occasion.
>>
>>4861138
>[Surly] “Mmhm, indeed. The most horrendous luck, surely.” Ignore the conversation, only adding in the odd quip to show willing. You’re more interested in the sights you’ll see on the city street in passing. Who knows what you may see, and besides, it’ll help clear out your thoughts for the evening ahead of you.
Maybe we can do a little scoping out of the trade options even if we couldn't devote the full day to it.

Thanks for running!
>>
>>4861138
>>[Surly] “Mmhm, indeed. The most horrendous luck, surely.” Ignore the conversation, only adding in the odd quip to show willing. You’re more interested in the sights you’ll see on the city street in passing. Who knows what you may see, and besides, it’ll help clear out your thoughts for the evening ahead of you.
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>>4861155

>listen, I ain't no country bumpkin, showing up to a fancy party in anything less than my best hat for the occasion.

>>4861158
>>4861263

>no, I'm totally listening instead of people-watching. that sandra is indeed a bitch

Called and writing. Sorry for the delay, neighbour's house 7 doors down from us caught on fire, and had to do my neighbourly due-diligence of gawking in case it spread closer to my place.

Anons must have tempted the whims of FATE, and The Curse must be dyslexic, given that the house numbers were nearly the same as ours. Guess I burned through one of my own charges, eh?
>>
>[Surly] action taken.

“Mmhm, indeed. The most horrendous of luck, surely.” Snorri’s eyes narrow, clearly ready with a not-so-delicate response as you settle into the over-stuffed carriage seat. Whatever biting comment she had prepared dies with a curse as the carriage jolts forward and she quite literally bites her tongue.

“Agh! Trith, you bastud! You plant thith, you fukka!” she mutters out, swiping a finger inside her mouth. When it’s withdrawn with a lack of blood, you shrug at the venomous glare, concern writ large on Heather’s face. A simple shrug is all you deign to respond with, as Hettie hands the scarred elf a handkercheif to wipe her mouth with.

“Snorri, be careful. I’m sure Tristan didn’t mean it.” Heather looks towards you, and you blandly nod before looking out the window. “Here, I’ll pass you a kerchief, in case it starts to bleed. It wouldn’t do for you to get blood all over your nice dress.” There’s a rustle from that side of the carriage as Hettie presumably fishes out a handkerchief for her. The conversation stays a bit muted on that side as the driver passes through the looming gates.

The roads are busy, as they always are in the city. It would have been a quicker traverse half the time if you would have just got out and walked, but then you’d have to contend with horseshit or mud on your hems and boots. Catching a whiff of dirty water as it rattles over a bridge, you thank the seven winds that there’s solid floorboards between you and it. You’d think they’d have found a way to bring the reek down. Ah well, guess that’s civilization for you.

Heather managed to cheer Snorri up a bit by asking after her family. While Snorri talks about the last set of letters she received from the north, the carriage rumbles to a halt again. It stays put for the longest time thus far, long enough for the bells to ring out the quarter-hour again. Glancing out the window, there seems to be a crowd forming, one that barely disperses despite the coachman’s rather colourful language. Opening the hatch to the front, you decide to call out to him. “Is everything alright out there?”

“Aye messir, just a bit of a crush ahead of us. Apparently, a procession is coming through, so the devils are all craning necks to see if they can see the Prince. Lazy gits, if I knew that, I’d have gone around before they all pressed in. We’ll be there in time, no worries.” Glancing back towards the others, both of them are giving you questioning looks.

[1/2]
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>>4862853

“The Prince is going through the streets in a parade. Would you like for me to open the top hatch so we can all look?” Snorri looks indifferent, while Hettie clasps her hands with an awestruck look on her face. I mean, it’s not everyday you get to see a Prince in the street. Satisfied with the non-verbal answer, you open the roof-top hatch and support your cousin so that she can get a better look. Snorri has a dirty look on her face, that extends into a malicious grin at your disgusted frown glimpsed between dress ruffles. It’s a bit hard to make out everything through the lower elevation, but you are still struck by one of the parts of the procession as the common-folk ahead of you bow in supplication.

>[Surly] “My, that is a larger cannon, hey? It must have been captured, given the design around the barrel.” It looks to be of Harrotian manufacture. They always add in garish touches like lion’s-heads at the business end. You didn’t think that Loria was at war with them again, it must be a trophy from a privateer.

>[Gregarious] “Snorri, you’ve got a better look than me. Are those horses.... golems?” You’ve only seen a golem in person once, while visiting the most secure parts of the gunpowder mill as a lad. Misshapen and lumpy, the furnace red of the man-shaped thing left an impression. You heard there were animal-shaped ones, but never thought you’d see one in real life.

>[Pragmatic] “Hettie, look away. Gods, there’s so many of them.” Deftly lower Heather back into the carriage before she looks at the tail-end. Lorians don’t take slaves, those men are bound for the gallows. You can still make out ragged uniforms of Haradeen and Harrotian colours. If those two are in bed together, that ceasefire isn’t likely going to stay too long.

>[Write-in?]

[2/2]
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>>4862855
>>[Pragmatic] “Hettie, look away. Gods, there’s so many of them.” Deftly lower Heather back into the carriage before she looks at the tail-end. Lorians don’t take slaves, those men are bound for the gallows. You can still make out ragged uniforms of Haradeen and Harrotian colours. If those two are in bed together, that ceasefire isn’t likely going to stay too long.
>>
>>4862855
>[Gregarious] “Snorri, you’ve got a better look than me. Are those horses.... golems?” You’ve only seen a golem in person once, while visiting the most secure parts of the gunpowder mill as a lad. Misshapen and lumpy, the furnace red of the man-shaped thing left an impression. You heard there were animal-shaped ones, but never thought you’d see one in real life.
>>
>>4862855
>[Gregarious] “Snorri, you’ve got a better look than me. Are those horses.... golems?” You’ve only seen a golem in person once, while visiting the most secure parts of the gunpowder mill as a lad. Misshapen and lumpy, the furnace red of the man-shaped thing left an impression. You heard there were animal-shaped ones, but never thought you’d see one in real life.
>>
>>4862903

>shit cos, that's a lot of sorry-looking motherfuckers.

>>4862920
>>4862942

>imagine the look on a horse-girl's face when she gets a beautiful horse that will live her lifetime, that she can pass down to her children for generations.

Called and writing.
>>
>[Gregarious] action taken.

In-between the burn in your shoulders and the swaying as Hettie wriggles around up top to get a better look at everything going on, you can practically feel the smugness radiating off of Snorri. “Why Tris, do you want a hand? Just say the magic words, and I’ll be glad to help you out.” You adjust one of your hands in her sightline to a rude gesture, ignoring the brief cackle of laughter while trying to see outside better.

A strange sound, like clattering pottery mixed in with the hoofbeats ahead, floats out from the crowd. It takes a bit of doing to shift so that you can see while Hettie gasps in shock. “Oh my, those horses are beautiful. So well-trained too, the riders are barely even touching the reins. I think that’s the Prince on the sorrel one in front, Tabitha said he had a pink cloak lined with ermine.” With that as a cue, you manage to focus on the lead-most rider.

Prince Theodore has his left hand raised in benediction over the crowd, his salmon pink cloak draped regally over his right shoulder. The white bellies of ermine mi x well with it, providing a pleasing contrast to the ruby-red colour of his brocade beneath it. Glancing at the horse he’s riding, something seems a bit off about it. The earthy red colouration of it seems to extend all the way to the hooves. As well, it lacks the twitchiness you’d expect of a warhorse so close to people around it. When you catch a glimpse of its blank eyes, a colossal wave of envy breaks upon the rocky shores of your heart. “Snorri, you’ve got a better vantage than me. Are those horses... golems?”

“Eh? What gibberish are you talking about Tris? Golems are big lumpy things, not like pretty stuff like that.” The elf elbows some room at the window, Hettie squawking a little as you try to re-balance again. There’s a faint annoyed pause as she climbs back down into the carriage, and a rare, awe-filled tone fills your retainer’s voice. “Take me to the depths. Tris, pinch me. Must be dreaming, can’t be real what I’m seeing.” A burst of elvish swearing follows your absent-minded pinch on her forearm, Heather sighing dreamily while the three of you looking out the window.

“Not only does he look like something out of a fairy-tale, he even brought a horse golem with him. Harriet is a lucky woman.” The secrets of golem manufacture died out ages ago. When sorcerers and enchantresses fought against dragons, they were said to be accompanied by golems filled with fire and verses of the Songs of Creation. All sorts of golems existed in those days, delicate songbirds that mimicked voices perfectly to mighty oxen that individually could power a barge train two miles long. The clay horses were said to be able to pull a carriage from one end of the continent to the other in a fortnight. They weren’t much faster than a normal horse, but they were tireless, didn’t need food or water, and never went lame over the long journey.

[1/2]
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>>4863105

Of course, whenever repairs were required over the long years, it’s inevitable the sculpted muscles of golem men and pristine feathers of songbirds were marred by the unskillful hands of the laymen. The misshapen, man-shaped lumps that still remained bipedal still had strength in their limbs, even if it looked like it was formed by a blind child. The animal-shaped ones suffered worse degradation. It’s hard enough to make them perfectly stable, and it only took one mistake in a critical joint to render them utterly lame, barely better than a living horse. Once, there was enough for even the lowest peasant working the fields to own a horse and ox team. Now, petty wars were waged for even the opportunity to have one of their own to march on parade.

The remainder of the journey is carried out in contemplative silence, everyone occupied with their own thoughts. When the carriage slows, you are jolted out of reveries about being able to pull all your wagons with a single team of oxen by the task at hand. Right, time to get my head in the game.

>[Surly] “Snorri, you’ll be the one taking point on personal interactions. No sense in playing your hand early.” She’ll be cross at having to play at a coquettish companion, but you’ll have to act as the threatening one here. You aren’t looking forward to dealing with any potential Capwells, especially given your history. Besides, you’re the one who is conspicuously armed, even if she likely has her blades hidden on her person. It just makes sense.

>[Gregarious] “Well cos, introduce the both of us to your friends. It’s been a fair while since I walked in these circles.” Let Hettie take point on the personal front, acting the part of a distant cousin interested in a new city’s occupants. It could give an inkling of how the constant ebb and flow of politics are moving with current events. Plus, watching Snorri try to play nice is sure to help boost your mood despite needing to be polite yourself.

>[Pragmatic] “If you see anything, tap me first. Otherwise, try not to make a scene, I’m begging you.” Trust in Snorri to keep her head on a swivel while you and Heather handle all the giving of toasts and small-talk. It’ll be grating and boring, but having her look out for any potential threats will give you enough peace of mind to be able to focus. Both the ones of physical nature, and subtler means.

>[Write-in?]

Going to have to call it in early tonight, despite the later start. Tomorrow is supposed to be filled with paperwork, and I need to be sharp in order to not have to re-do everything multiple times. Have a good one, and take care out there!

[2/2]
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>>4863108
>[Gregarious] “Well cos, introduce the both of us to your friends. It’s been a fair while since I walked in these circles.” Let Hettie take point on the personal front, acting the part of a distant cousin interested in a new city’s occupants. It could give an inkling of how the constant ebb and flow of politics are moving with current events. Plus, watching Snorri try to play nice is sure to help boost your mood despite needing to be polite yourself.

Cheers OP.
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>>4863108
>>[Gregarious] “Well cos, introduce the both of us to your friends. It’s been a fair while since I walked in these circles.” Let Hettie take point on the personal front, acting the part of a distant cousin interested in a new city’s occupants. It could give an inkling of how the constant ebb and flow of politics are moving with current events. Plus, watching Snorri try to play nice is sure to help boost your mood despite needing to be polite yourself.
>>
>>4863108
>[Gregarious] “Well cos, introduce the both of us to your friends. It’s been a fair while since I walked in these circles.” Let Hettie take point on the personal front, acting the part of a distant cousin interested in a new city’s occupants. It could give an inkling of how the constant ebb and flow of politics are moving with current events. Plus, watching Snorri try to play nice is sure to help boost your mood despite needing to be polite yourself.
>>
Hey everyone, just sending up that I ain't dead yet, since I'm trying to be better about status updates to prevent Dead Thread Panic. Next session will be on the 14th around 01:30 UCT, and barring a flood of new votes, we're likely going [Gregarious]. The next couple evenings sound semi-quiet, so I'll probably try and get some more drawings out to keep the inspiration flowing for writing again back home. Probably will do a question and answer session tomorrow in the thread around this time if anyone had any burning desire for it as well. No guarantees of sobriety, since I am currently in the fucking sticks. Have a good one, and take care out there!
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>>4865850
No problem. Take care out there.
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>>4863117
>>4863232
>>4863913

>hob-nob with your fellow nobs. Snorri don't frown, your face might get stuck like that.

Called and writing.
>>
>[Gregarious] action taken.

As the footman opens the door, you extend a hand to help both Hettie and Snorri down from the carriage. Ignoring the scoff and hand being brushed aside from the scarred elf, your cousin graciously accepts, straightening the pleats on her dress when she reaches firm ground. “Many thanks, Tris. These things are a bit on the cumbersome side.” You’d have to agree, the ruff she insisted on you wearing is holding in a lot of the cloying summer heat. At least the scented oils and talc powder available at the estate is doing an admirable job keeping the signs of sweating away.

“Cumbersome my arse, I feel like a bloody church-bell. One with lace and no breathing room.” Snorri growls, adjusting something hidden in her underskirts. At your raised eyebrow, her eyes narrow in disdain. “Listen, these fecking garters are chafing just like a dwarf’s hands when he spots a pile of coins unattended. At least it gives my blades something to hang off of.”

“Snorri!” Your cousin looks positively scandalized at the thought of her friend hiding weaponry in her skirts. The accused has an affronted look to her, confusion mingling with

“What? I’m supposed to be here as a bodyguard, so I brought a surprise or two for anyone who got a bit too handsy tonight. About the only good thing you can say about these fecking dresses is they do a bang-up job hiding stuff.” You sigh deeply, while Heather starts patting at the rest of Snorri’s clothing.

“Don’t tell me that you’ve brought a pistol too. That would just about be the cherry on top of the cake, honestly.” There’s a defiant set to Snorri’s jaw as Hettie brandishes the fan that the older woman insisted on bringing under her nose. “Did you sharpen the edges on this? It looks like it was filed.”

You set a gentle hand on her elbow, drawing your cousin’s ire away for a moment. ”Cos, let it lie. Introduce us to your friends, it’s been a while since I’ve traveled in these circles.” She presses the fan into Snorri’s hand, and walks away in a huff, explaining a bit of a who’s who to the two of you. As she’s talking about Liana’s recent marriage to William Something-or-Other, you lean into Snorri and whisper pointedly. “Behave, we’re here on duty, so at least pretend to enjoy it.”

“Aye, it’s not the first time I did one of these jobbies Tris. Just so long as you play pretend too, you bastard.” she hisses back, while the doorman investigates the invitation that Heather turns over. “If any of these slick willies tries to get fresh though, he’ll have to learn to eat with one hand, swear on the fathers.”

[1/2]
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>>4868899

It looks to be around an average-sized gathering here tonight. There’s a seven-piece band playing on the west side of the room, some jaunty and bubbly tune. A few people are moving along the dancefloor, but the dance itself hasn’t started in earnest yet. Everyone is talking in various clumps, likely waiting for the main event to start. Hettie ushers you towards one such clump when a dark-haired woman beckons her. The two women hug tightly, and the stranger speaks in a high alto. “Heather, it’s so good to see you! Who are your guests? I thought Andrew and Natalie were going to accompany you”

“Oh, some kind of orchard nonsense came up, and demanded his attention. Tabby, this is my cousin Tristan and his retainer Snorri. They’ve arrived up from further down the coast, and stopped in the city for a time. Both of them were free tonight, so I’d thought I’d bring them along.” You bow stiffly, and hear the rustle as Snorri attempts to curtsey. “He’s doing some exciting business along the way. Much more exciting than listening to Drew drone on and on.”

>[Surly] “Oh please, it’s not that exciting. The Gem Road is as safe as ever. You must be the Lady Tabitha.” Downplay your travels until you get a better idea of who’s who. Some of the more intelligent parts of the crowd might put two and two together.

>[Gregarious] “Well, if you consider dealing with some bandits exciting, I suppose that’s true. Honestly, it was more of a hassle than anything else.” Play up the risk, and add some spice in the boasting. Maybe you could even find other connections if one of Hettie’s friends is looking for someone to do business with.

>[Pragmatic] “Honestly, it’s been a lot of sleeping in tents, eating plain food, and trying to not fall asleep in the saddle. Isn’t that right Snorri?” You’re determined not to do all the talking yourself. Rope her into the conversation too, so that you can sidestep certain lines of questioning. Like that Garland fellow’s maiming, as an example.

>[Write-in?]

[2/2]
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>>4868899

>confusion mingling with a bit of reproach, like an elder being yelled at by a child.

Blasted words got clipped off a bit.
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>>4868901
>>[Surly] “Oh please, it’s not that exciting. The Gem Road is as safe as ever. You must be the Lady Tabitha.” Downplay your travels until you get a better idea of who’s who. Some of the more intelligent parts of the crowd might put two and two together.
>>
>>4868901
>[Surly] “Oh please, it’s not that exciting. The Gem Road is as safe as ever. You must be the Lady Tabitha.” Downplay your travels until you get a better idea of who’s who. Some of the more intelligent parts of the crowd might put two and two together.
>>
>>4868911
>>4868919

>nah, the road's boring as watching cows shit in the field, swear on me mum.

Called and writing.
>>
>[Surly] action taken.

A dismissive wave of the hand is called for at that moment. May as well keep my cards close, until I can figure out exactly who’s playing for who. “Oh please, it’s not that exciting. The Gem Road is as safe as ever, and I’d rather not bore you all with the details of petty haggling and driving oxen. You must be the Lady Tabitha. Charmed, Hettie told me so much about you.” The dark-haired woman titters a bit before quickly waving her fan in front of her face. Despite not seeing your retainer’s face, you can feel the masked disdain radiating off of her.

“My, he’s a bit of a treat Heather. Yes, I am she. Welcome to our little get-together, we’re just waiting on a few more guests before the dance goes in full swing. If you have time, maybe we should take a spin ourselves, yes?” A tinkling laugh and some more pleasantries with your cousin, and Tabitha walks away towards the entrance with a few sycophants in tow. Snorri still looks at her from a distance while you focus some more on the conversation with William Something-or-Other.

“Those Doxies are getting bolder every year. This is the third time they’ve hiked up the price on coke and coal. Soon we’ll have to resort to burning tallow to stay warm and light the ovens, it’d be cheaper.” Apparently, he does some brokerage in the olive oil trade. It’s a cut-throat industry with tight margins, and lots of counterfeits.

“I mean, we could always send for more charcoal and pitch from Jironth. It’s not like they’ve got a shortage of it or anything.” The other fellow, Carlos Mmm-hmm-hmm, owns a fishing fleet. Changes his focus with the seasons, currently focusing on red snapper since they’re starting to migrate to the bays for warmer waters. William snorts in derision, swirling the wine in his glass before answering.

“Aye, no shortage from them, yet. That’ll probably change when their new king comes in, it always does. No offense of course,” William quickly adds in after noticing your retainer’s ears are too long to be a human. Snorri smiles at him, a bit too widely for your comfort, and it doesn’t reach her gray eyes.

“None taken, messir.” That sounded a lot like she wanted to say a different two-syllable word. “Say Liana, that is a remarkable embroidery you have on your sleeves. You have to let me know who your tailor is. I’ve been meaning to get some ideas to spark some new designs of my own.” As she turns away towards the other women, you let out the held breath. It doesn’t seem like he noticed too much. Before he takes much more of an opportunity to get under her skin much more, the band stops suddenly. Everyone in the room turns, with Tabitha holding aloft a goblet.

[1/2]
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>>4869149

“Now that we’re all here, a toast! To our brave prince, may House Marlow reign on the Coral Throne evermore!” A chorus of ayes come up, and everything drinks deep from their cups. Eegh, could have used a bit more time in the keg before being served. A few couples are starting to move towards the dancefloor, while others move towards the tables of food, now that it’s officially started. You can spot Tabitha working her way back towards your group, likely hell-bent on getting you out there with herself.

>[Surly] “I’m going to get some food for the three of us. Hettie, Snorri, anything in particular you want me to fetch?” You don’t dance, not when you’re sober. If you get some dainty little things on plates or more wine, it’ll buy you more time before the inevitable occurs.

>[Gregarious] “Why yes, I’ll take this dance. This band is a bit heavy on the strings, yes?” Get it over with, before you get the chance to regret it. It’s been a while, but footwork is still footwork in the end, even if you’re more used to it in the sparring circle than the dancefloor.

>[Pragmatic] “Snorri, you look tense. Come on, let’s have a bit of fun.” Pull her away from William before she does something. It might start tongues wagging, but better to stand that than trying to explain William crouched on the floor clutching himself if you leave them alone together.

>[Write-in?]

[2/2]
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>>4869153
>[Gregarious] “Why yes, I’ll take this dance. This band is a bit heavy on the strings, yes?” Get it over with, before you get the chance to regret it. It’s been a while, but footwork is still footwork in the end, even if you’re more used to it in the sparring circle than the dancefloor.

Shoot Snorri a Look while we're at it.
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>>4869153
>>[Gregarious] “Why yes, I’ll take this dance. This band is a bit heavy on the strings, yes?” Get it over with, before you get the chance to regret it. It’s been a while, but footwork is still footwork in the end, even if you’re more used to it in the sparring circle than the dancefloor.
>>
Shit, just caught a look at what time it was right now. Got work early in the morning, so I'll have to cut this one a bit shorter than normal. Next session will be tomorrow on the 15th at 01:30 UCT. I should be getting a schedule for the next while then, so I'll likely be able to start earlier depending on what's going on. Have a good one, and take care out there!
>>
>>4869153
>>[Gregarious] “Why yes, I’ll take this dance. This band is a bit heavy on the strings, yes?” Get it over with, before you get the chance to regret it. It’s been a while, but footwork is still footwork in the end, even if you’re more used to it in the sparring circle than the dancefloor.