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Americhronism [Medieval Post Apocalypse]

I'm waiting on a post from another player so that I can respond to that in my next post, which will be before I go to bed in a few hours.

I'm going to make a decision on the hider situation, likely after the wedding stuff is settled. For now, don't worry too much.

EDIT: Change of plans, since it got late much faster than I expected. I'll post tomorrow when I get up.

Americhronism [Medieval Post Apocalypse]

Remix

The man lied stiff on the hard floor, wrapped in the same dirty tunic as he had been for several days. His face lacked color, and his skin was visibly moist. His breathing was audible and raspy, and his eyes would twitch and flutter from time to time. He appeared no different than any of the other victims of the plague. He was middle aged, maybe older, but definitely able to work. His fingernails were thin, and dirt lined them. He turned his head to Remix and croaked, "Ask."

It grew quiet in the rotunda, though one certainly couldn't notice that when treating a patient if they were focused.

Morgan

The Piper grumbled, visibly upset that his shaking performance had left the medicine woman noticeably unshaken. He casually strolled to the railing of the balcony, making the effort to appear as if he wasn't talking to her. "I had you personally invited, actually. I not only behave as the king's herald and court jester, but I also deal with... domestic disturbance. It is the reason that no one knows my real name, and few know my real occupation. I trust you to withhold that information now that I've confided it in you."

He reaches into his wide, deep sleeve and retrieves a thin piece of board. He glances at it before stuffing it away. "There is someone of great significance with a horrid illness, and I need an herb. I have reached out in all directions to clear your path, so that you may deal with them as your patient; however, the person is of such authority and regard that they would not permit you to heal them personally."

He turned back to Morgan, now surprisingly stern. His face was now rigid and his voice solemn. It was clear that the Piper played another role besides the king's amusement. He extended his gnarled right hand. "Before I can disclose details of the herb and of your reward, I need to know we have a deal."

Dietrich

The stranger, still hardly visible, continued, "You are one of us. You hold sway with the overworld, and you will pay your dues to us in time."

Dietrich felt something wet and flat pressed into the back of his neck and removed with an audible pop. Whatever it was, it likely left a mark. Had Dietrich any more questions, he would find no answers, as he had disappeared. His eyes began to adjust to the darkness now, and he could see and hear the wind gently teasing the curtains on an open window, one that likely wasn't open to begin with. He could try and follow him, but it's likely that whatever he sought to do was done, and it would be fruitless to seek him further.

It was best to continue towards the party with an uneasy itch on the back of his neck.

Eli

Julia sighed, letting her sleek shoulders slack. She looked away again, now clearly contemplating something. She sat back down; in their lengthy conversation, she had miraculously not attracted any curious eyes, except maybe one. She sits upright, and adopts a graceful, dignified tone. She folds her hands in her lap and says, "Very well. It's a shame that there's nothing I can do to aid you, but I don't think you'll be slaying anything or anyone. I hope your last kill was a good one."

A silence follows, and the queen averts her eyes again, biting her lip. She pushes her untouched goblet of wine to him, saying, "The wine they offer the royalty is leagues better than the swill they're giving you; I'd highly recommend trying it before you bout. Please, try it. I insist."

Americhronism [Medieval Post Apocalypse]

Sorry about the wait; I'll be getting a post up tomorrow.

For now, there's someone who /really/ needs to post, and some people won't be able to continue if he doesn't. I'm trying to get him to post.

Bluh

You need to search that sometime. There could be an animal trapped

spooky

Americhronism [Medieval Post Apocalypse]

Alright. Here's what I'm thinking.

I'm going to cut back on the hiders soon, I think. Your posts will soon no longer have to be in hiders, and less information of mine will be in hiders. The use of hiders may be making your experience a bit more tunneled than expected, and cutting back on it may be a better idea.

If you could drop in your input before I make a decision, it'd be appreciate it. I won't demand it; I just want to know how everyone else is feeling about the issue.

Americhronism [Medieval Post Apocalypse]

Alejandra

Unbeknownst to Alejandra, the gift giving process at the wedding of a to be crowned king was particularly disorderly. Gifts were likely taken at the door, divided into many subcategories, such as living and nonliving, and properly stored and taken care for until the king could address them after the guests had left, not before the careful sweeping and searching of all of them for poisons, weapons, or other slyly hidden assassination attempts. Afterwards, the king would send a handwritten letter expressing his gratitude and, if the gift was particularly noteworthy, return the favor. Whether that would happen at Albany's most widely watched, anticipated, and populated wedding and crowning in its regal succession history, one couldn't tell. She received another worthwhile opportunity in the meantime. Considering Conrad's spite, one might wonder if there's something else in store for Alejandra that a seasoned diplomat knows about that she would not, and that challenging him was a poor decision. Unfortunately, nothing can be undone. Whatever comes of it must be salvaged.

Alejandra still had many options; she could mingle among the party, and attempt to draw something out of the snooty nobles. She could head up to the balcony and see the Purple Piper, the Famous and Infamous, who was directing the band. At the moment he appeared to be chatting with the not-quite-as-famed mysterious medicine woman. She could visit the party from Blackwater, return with Conrad to their quarters in another part of the city, or wander dark, empty halls of the building.

Remix

"He he he he he..." the old man cackled, his toothy, yellow grin on display. "How about you stay here? I doubt you'll be more moved than you already are. After all, he's only a man, isn't he? One that we medicine men must pass judgment upon?" Lugurix continued his mocking laughter, every biting word tickling him further.

"Or have you made your verdict already?" Lugurix asked, looking into Remix's eyes deliberately. He held it for a moment, his practiced gaze. His mind took a stroll through Remix like a woodsman in a forest, if his eyes were to be believed. No more communication was needed. Meeting someone with that gaze is rare enough, let alone have them absorb one wholesale like that. Lugurix lifted his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for an answer. How could one answer a question when their answers have all been said? More than that, how is one supposed to answer a question when one's answers have already been anticipated?

Lugurix laughed again and broke his spell. His eyes glossed over again, staring at the corner of the wall. Or outside. No one can tell where he's looking. He must be blind. "What can one man do after all?"

Silence followed. Lugurix pointed to a man in the back, dark corner of the room, somehow. "Speak to this man. He shows early symptoms of the plague. Find out where he's been. Maybe we can steer everyone clear of whatever he's been doing."

Bern

Dietrich continued into the dark halls of the building. He took many unfortunate turns down the empty hallways. Light began to fade as he entered the parts of the building no one expected him to wander. Rectangular outlines began to line the floor and walls, indicating something had been there for centuries, but was no longer. He continued walking as the hallways became dimmer and dimmer. He could look behind him and still see light, but it was so far away, one would wonder if that light could see him anymore.

He took on last turn into what he thought was a doorway, but was actually a closed, locked door. Dietrich smacked himself loudly on the door, the sound of his frame meeting another frame resonating through the darkness. He stammered back bumping into something else. That something was a someone.

"You are still drawn to it, darkling. But you are not attuned to it anymore." It hissed like a rattlesnake in the grass. Dietrich could turn to speak to him, if he liked, but one wonders if he could even see him.

I don't need you twats to validate me.

you're a strong independent diamond who don't need no band

Tell Me I'm Pretty

The Nexerus said
It's quite clearly biology.

literary criticism actually