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    1. Elendra 11 yrs ago

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Because they were apparently supposed to go in a new post that I refused to do, HERE THE STUFF IS

Draza's upgrades
--Obfuscating Stupidity; Draza knows that she's not really much of a threat in most eyes already, but she's clever enough to use that to her advantage. She's adept at taking action while appearing to have simply innocently or harmlessly stumbled into her success. Really, it's how she survived this long. She has been with roaming mage hunting Templars in the past, and criminal organizations and such.

--Straight upgrade to soothing aura

--Sharp 2
--Stealthy
Biographical Section


Name: Alotha Quirinus (formerly Alotha Iovina)
Age: 39
Race: “Half”-Elf, “Half”-Human. Really far more confusingly mixed than that.
Sex: Female
Appearance: Standing at 5'8'', she was, in her youth, far more lithe and graceful, with a boyish build and small chest, but after the estrogen of a few kids her hips are wider, her top heavier, and her form far more womanly. She doesn’t have any sort of idealized figure, just a more accented form than before. Her ears are pointed, but only slightly, and her eyes are grey-white. Her hair is kept above her shoulders and is light brown. Marking her body are various scars, from where her arena gear broke, a blade or claw dug in too deep, and her nose is a bit wrong from having been broken too many times. She doesn’t have all of her teeth, missing two on her left side from a particularly powerful right hook she took once.
Homeland: Kingdom of Tuleria (formerly), Kingdom of Renalta (presently)
History: A pretty simple history. As a younger girl she took to disguising herself as a male and fighting in the ring against lizards, monsters, and guys with big weapons. She bound her chest and wore a mask that both served to protect her, intimidate, and conceal. However, despite her good track record, she eventually stopped fighting, and settled down with someone (Marino Quirinus) and had kids. Four of them, Groveren (18 M), Sandisa (12 F), Aracalo (8 M), and Minas (5 M).

However, she was unable to stay the mom for her kids after Marino sustained a severe injury in his line of work at the quarry. In order to sustain her family with the help of her eldest son’s job, Alotha had to go back to the one thing she knew how to do, fight. Returning to the ring as a ‘newcomer’, she quickly established herself as a mama badass. However, with the banishment of the gods, and the establishment of the Kingdom of Renalta and the whole ‘wow that place is cool and better to live in’, the Quirinii moved across the continent to Renalta, with any troubles beaten up and punched out by Alotha as necessary. At least, that’s how she claims it happened, Groveren helped fight things off in a more sensible manner (with weapons), and not all the fights that Alotha sometimes claimed happen did happen.

Motivation: Make the fucking world safe for her goddamn kids.

Traits & Equipment






Equipment List
Magical Cestuses

Combat Mask and Headgear

Various bits of normal adventure gear and other bullshit that everyone who’s not Draza probably has on them. Maps, dungeon delving stuff, basic camping supplies. The works. She got most of it after joining the Blades “I’ll probably need it.”

A homestead in Renalta where her family lives now.

Personal Section


Romance: She’s married. But sure, husband can die or if we want it to be super scandalous, she could just cheat on him. Hope you like kids though; she’s keeping them.
Does the Kouri Plushie exist?: Yes

Signature: Your username here. Elendra
The following is a tertiary character, would prefer Alotha if I get a second over Ynari :D

Biographical Section

Name: Ynari el-Haddad, formerly Ynari the Nameless
Age: 56
Race: Desert Dwarf, a race of dwarves that reside on the surface around deserts; true in dwarven blood and biology, they are taller and darker skinned than their subterranean cousins.
Sex: Female
Appearance: Standing at 4’10, with stocky build true to her nature, Ynari is a rather average desert dwarf young woman. Her hair is dark brown, although it tends to darken to black if she spends too much time out of sunlight. It is usually kept short, or up in a braided bun if she permits it to grow long in order to not disturb her craft. There’s very little in the way of frills in her garbs, all harty and pragmatic. Light on the skin to combat the heat of the desert and of the forge and nearly flame retardant as well. She has goggles tinted to let her stare into flames or the sun for long stretches, and rags tied around her arms to wipe sweat from her brow.
Homeland: Originally: The Free Holds / Nomadic; Presently: The Goblin Holds
History:


Motivation: While money certainly plays a part in her motivation, she also doesn’t want hell to spill over. That would suck.

Traits & Equipment

General Traits
--Raw Talent: She didn’t realize this until roughly 20 years ago, but she has true talent with magic.
----Raw Talent 2: Actually it's pretty damn good.
--Apprentice: Forgecraft, essentially specialized alchemy. Used in usually one of four ways, bypassing smelting to make usable metal out of ore, or at a greater cost out of stone (such a process is usually done in the field when lacking proper materials); refining and enhancing both the products and the process, speeding it along and increasing the quality of the end good; undoing the work done on other smithed goods, such as tools, weapons, and armours, by rusting them or causing them to fall apart; lastly, channelling other magics into the work. This last manner is the most difficult to do, and the most draining, unless you work with something particularly susceptible to this portion of the craft. In all cases, however, Forgecraft is easier and faster to do than comparable alchemy due to its specialized nature.
--Wells of Power: It is unknown if she found the Vaulted Reliquary because of her connection to the Wells of Power, or if she got connections to the Wells of Power because she found the Vaulted Reliquary. In either case, she’s connected now.
--Awakened Meditation: It wasn't like she was using a lot of magic to begin with.

Unique Traits
--Forged from Blood: While she keeps the exact manner in which she makes steel in this way a secret, Ynari’s weapons and armours of this make are fairly valuable for both their quality, protective qualities against magic, and the strange organic almost wood-like grain to the metal. She refers to the steel as Blood Steel, and it’s assumed that the Blood Sea is involved in the process by which she makes her products. Things made in this way are easier to imbue with further powers, and can even make mundane persons become proper threats so long as they’re neither too stupid or clumsy.
----Finest Steel: Okay, even if they're stupid and clumsy.
--Rapid Mobilization: Normally the creation and refining of goods by Forgecraft is a slow, timely affair. It produces incredibly high quality goods in due order. However, sometimes you need a bunch of spears to shoot out of the ground right now or a shield right now or to make that bad guy’s armour to rust right now. These acts are either far lesser in quality, or more draining to perform. Or both. Can also be used to rapidly arm a militia at the last minute with weapons and armours, or munitions.
--Custom Fit: A far finer touch than Rapid Mobilization, instead of just jutting shit out from things to the ground or at a target, she can quickly arm someone by making the weapons, armours, and tools conform to the person, making works that are perfect for the user.

Equipment List
--Arun’s Gift: An old smith’s hammer. Written in the handle, worn almost to illegible, is “For my daughter, Y”. The rest is scratched out and can’t be read. Ynari says that the rest was just her name.
--Hammer of the Reliquary: Perhaps not that most respectful use of the contents of the tomb; this item was made with those, quality iron, and blood from the Blood Sea. A mighty hammerhead for her own protection, using it instead of Arun’s Gift in combat in those rare times she fights in combat.
--Small Dagger: Sometimes there’s not enough room to swing the hammer, or it’s too noticeable.
--Merchant Robes from the Goblin Holds: Light clothing that minimally impairs movement, meant for merchants of the Goblin Holds. Suitably Arabic in style, and perfect for warm weather.
--Merchant Robes from Tuleria: Not as light as the robes from the Goblin Holds, and a bit more restrictive to wear; these robes do show off a higher status to be worn.
--Expedition Clothes: As light as the Goblin Hold Merchant Robes, but more restrictive in movement, they offer better protection against the elements.
--Finery Clothes: While certainly not as grandiose as as the adornments of true nobility, this dress and garb is flattering to the short frame and curves of Ynari.
--Smithing Gear: An assortment of actual blacksmithing tools, garbs, goggles, and more. Also, an actual anvil, but fuck traveling with that thing in your pack. Shipping it’s a pain, even. Cheaper to just get a new one or pay to use one.
--Map of the Goblin Holds: While the map shows the Goblin Holds and surrounding area, it is littered with notes around the Vaulted Reliquary detailing her searches.
--Maps of the Continent: Not in as great of detail as the Map of the Goblin Holds, Ynari does have maps of the continent and trade routes by which she has earned coin before.
--Smith’s Notes: Her own notes from the Vaulted Reliquary, and from techniques she has tried in both magical and mundane crafting, save Blood Steel.
--Cultured Coins: Money changers may be horrible thieves, but if you are to travel, you are going to need the proper coins more often than not. Ynari has sums of money for a variety of cultures available to her from her time as a merchant mage.
--Basic Survival Gear and Rations: Because it’d certainly suck to go around without these things, right?
--Trinkets and Relics: While not usually carried on her, Ynari does own sequestered away from the Vaulted Reliquary, things she has pilfered from it for herself for study and eventual use.
--Caravan: Based on wagons from her youth, and armed with a variety of employees who each seek apprenticeship, this is her preferred mode of travel. Beats walking.

Personal Section

Romance: Yes yes yes!
Does the Kouri Plushie exist?: Yes.

Signature: Yes! Er, I mean, Elendra.
Intermission; Andrea and Draza

Two days prior, the evening after her agreement with Alicia and the lawyering she had to do to make it stick, Draza rubbed her eyes after putting on her night gown, the few candles in her room giving it light in the early night that had fallen after her time with contractual obligations. Hopefully tomorrow would be good and fun, and the time would fly until her dress was done. With little left for her to do but sleep, she moved to blow out the first candle, until she heard a knock upon her door. “Oh tiddlies,” she muttered to herself, “I’m coming.”

Andrea frowned and looked at the scene, she was still uncomfortable with these things… she placed a hand on the surface of the door. This was wood, something of an oddity in the Underdark, some Drow nobles bought it as a matter of prestige and show off their wealth to be able to gain such treasures from the world above. Ah well, when she heard the voice of the occupant answer her she waited, making sure to soothe the snakehead of her whip to not eat her, thinking it might be a mouse, assuming the tales of her size are true.

Draza’s room was normal person sized, despite her own size. Sure, there were accommodations for her to use the door, and furniture and stuff, but it was otherwise originally intended for a full sized person, making most of it unused at the moment. She put her hand on the trigger of the device to open the door, but did not yet open it, “Who may I say is welcome into my room at this hour?”

“Andrea, Priestess of Lollth and fellow Queensblade. We have not yet met in person.” She responded curtly, expecting the door to open.

“Lady Andrea,” Draza paused, lacking a surname, “Well, Lady Andrea, what may I ask are you doing here? I’m all but in my bed covers for sleep.”

“A matter of… well a request really, there is a grand ball approaching and I admit, I do not know how such things are done on the surface, my guard and servant Ceann, knows much of the surface but nothing of how to interact with the surface nobility and royalty, but we gathered you are a… diplomat, yes?”

Draza was a bit curious about the request, “You want… tutoring on courtly behaviours from me because I’ve had time in the courts as a diplomat amongst other things?” Well, that was certainly a first. But she was truly flattered with the request, and while tired, she was awake enough to humour the request for now and set up a proper session at another, more quickened time. “I’m not sure if I can do a long lesson now, but if you want basics… I can probably tell you enough to not embarrass yourself. Or at least enough to not make enemies.”

That said, Draza triggered the device of the door, and with the grinding of small and larger gears, the apparatus opened it and welcomed the priestess in. Draza gave a curtsy, “Your holiness is welcome into my home, however meagre and temporary it may be.”

Now able to see her she saw the tales were true, how pitiful to ask the assistance of a lesser creature but she would be damned to ask that heretic drow for assistance. “Now there is no door in the way, allow me to introduce myself properly.” She bowed, “Andrea, my… gratitude for seeing me, even if it is late. The darkness that night brings gives me more comfort so I am more active at this time.”

“I understand completely. May I offer you something to eat, or drink? I do not have much of either on me, but what I have is yours if you wish it,” Draza offered, before catching herself, “Oh where are my manners, how am I to teach you if I cannot even present myself despite my nightly dress.” Draza scurried to the side, gesturing her fullest invitation before curtsying again, “I’m Draza Zorya, and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintanceship. I am honoured by your visit and to be a member of the same group graced by yourself. If you will find it do more honour for you, I will make haste to dress myself more presentably for you,” she said, gesturing to her gown before skittering off to close the door behind the priestess.

She let out a dry chuckle, “No need, I realise that this hour is somewhat late, but I do appreciate you offer of help and understand if you wish for more… formal lessons to be undertaken in the light of day. But right now you can perhaps give me some basic understanding, for example.” She grimaced and narrowed her eyes, “Are we expected to bow down before these… foreign dignitaries that come here? Do they make us fetch drinks or something similar?”

Draza blinked up at Andrea, “No, they won’t want us to ‘bow down’, but a polite bow or curtsy as a sign of respect is always appreciated… well, not always, but generally speaking,” she pinched the bridge of her nose as she remembered some of the more aggressive surface cultures she had to deal with that wanted her to slay something ‘grand’ before they talked. “And you of course won’t have to serve them drinks, you’re not… making yourself lower than them,” Draza thought about how it’d work exactly, “You’re making them higher, and there’s a difference. A servant would bow and kiss the ground before them before fetching their drink, but you would do neither such thing.”

She raised a brow, “I see… I miss the Underdark, so much easier, show reverence to the matron mother of your house and ignore the others.” That or kill them, without witnesses of course, but she did not say that out loud. “Am I correct however that this ball… is mainly for the queens to show us off to these visitors?”

“Show us off, try to convince them that ‘saving all life from the armies of doomy death doom’ is a team effort, stuff like that,” Draza nodded. “If we do more lessons after tonight, I must ask you of your culture. I would love to learn more, and you would be doing me a great favour in doing so. Enough that I wouldn’t dream of asking for anything else for the lessons. Learning for learning, lessons for lessons. Does that sound fair to you?”

She cocked her head, considering it and then slowly nodded. “I suppose I could teach you some, but the culture of the Drow… is from what I gather from my servant rather… chaotic compared to some of the surface realms.” She snorts, “I have no idea what she means but perhaps it is, but back to the matter at hand, yes I find that a acceptable agreement.”

“Marvellous,” Draza said, having already procured a parchment and quill with ink by a small table near one of her candles, “I’ll begin writing up the agreement immediately.” Her fingers quickly began to scritch and scratch across, dipping the quill back into the ink before continuing on again, “Now, refrain from things with these dignitaries, like… don’t insult them unless you’re particularly clever and they insult you first,” she stops before adding, “And if they were clever about it. Some banter could be nice if the wit is sharp enough, and earn you respect for it. If they’re otherwise being polite then do not engage them in such a way, meet sharp wit with respectable sharp wit, and kindness with polite kindness.”

Andrea blinked, “What? Wait… write this down? What are you doing.” She looked suspiciously from Draza to the piece of paper she was scribbling on.

“Written things are… a standard that I picked up from the courtly circles. If you want to have more security in an agreement, you wrote it down. Now, I write most every long term agreement upon something,” Draza explained. “It’s also good for helping to remember things! If you go, ‘oop, I forgot’ and you have it written down, it’s great.”

She frowned, “I see… I would prefer not to, the ball is soon so there is no long term teaching you could give me and, while I do manage to have some understanding of your script it is still difficult to me and I have no idea what you intend to write down.”

Draza stopped in her tracks, “Oh,” she set down the quill, “I… yeah,” she mutters. She begins to put the stuff back away, “I do apologize, it’s become habit. For the duration of our arrangement, verbal should be fine. I don’t believe either of us will forget our culture or the exchange of it so quickly,” she laughs nervously, and stops making noise for a bit once more. Finally having put things away, she turns back to Andrea, “So, what would you like to know more about?”

The next hour or so Draza informed Andrea somewhat of what to expect at the grand ball and even a few shocking tidbits, but it was late, for Draza anyway and as Andrea left after making an appointment on the aftermorrow for more lessons she turned back, confusion still on her face. “This… this is just… there will be, under no circumstances, at any governmental function, at least here in Renalta… no orgy afterwards?” She shook her head. “You surfacers… where in the hells do you get your fun?”

Draza looked a combination between flabbergasted, tired, and mystified, “Not with…” she pinches the bridge of her nose, “We’ll talk more about the time and place of surface sex at another lesson,” she said. Drow culture was weird and something that some of her more risqué friends would say they’d love but then wouldn’t be able to deal. At least she was honest up front with her incapability of dealing up front… right? Regardless, she wished the priestess… she was a priestess. That was such a weird thought in the back of her mind considering the religious she was familiar with, and her own faith… but she opened the door for her, and bade her good night; hoping to Lada that she’d not have dreams she couldn’t handle.
The Nexerus said
Wow, all of these posts are great! Every single one of the posts that have been made in this thread—all of which I have just quoted—are spectacular. Excellent work Elendra and absolutely no one else!


Thank you
Doivid said
oneupping


I think oneupping bothers me more than it does you
My pet peeve is that there IS a pet peeve thread
Intermission; Rayvon and Draza

The cart and mule kept on moving, now leaving the castle grounds entirely as they approached the outer walls of the grand keep and palace. The last things on her way was to pass the training grounds of the courtyard before she would be fully off into town with the last of her goods to give away, and check on Granmere and friends to see how they were doing after the party the night prior.

Various militia men to full knights were training in some small numbers, those that Draza had not yet had the pleasure of meeting or of knowing their names, but she did recognize one from Arian out among them, though the exact name escaped her, a fact that surely just meant they hadn’t talked enough yet. Pulling her mule to a stop, she stands up in her cart and calls out, “Hark, Queen’s Blade in the training fields, how fare you this fine day?”

Rayvon’s hand slips on her blade as her concentration is broken and a knight smacks down with his blade across her shoulder. She winces at the impact, though it had done nothing to break through her armour. She rolls her shoulder uncertainly as she looks back at the small voice that had addressed her, her sword being sheathed at her hip. “Hmm, I fare well enough, though I suppose I just lost my spar. What of you, fae folk?”

Draza’s hands quickly slipped over her mouth, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you lose,” her tone drops a bit, losing some of the energy, “But er, I was just passing by and saw you and like wanted to say hey? I’ve not been seeing enough of my fellow Blades for my liking. What with the whole ‘horrible awful future missions of doomy death doom’ I’d like it if we were more comrades than co-workers, y’know?”

Rayvon raises a brow and chuckles, lowering her hood as she moved over to the cart. “A kind thought to have. I suppose we very might be the last friends we all know in the coming events.” She rubs her hands together, finding them sore before taking off her gloves, wrinkling her nose at the blisters that had begun to bubble up from her training sessions of late. “It is a good thing you do then, I suppose, to try and offer a potential familiar face for us all to return to. Ah, but I suppose many still do not know you. I myself, for example.” She tucks her gloves under her arm as the other crosses over her heart in a salute as she bows formally. “Rayvon Krayvitch of the Kingdom Liveria. And you are?”

While certainly not able to match the sheer coolness of an actual bad ass doing that salute, she does her own diminutive version of it in return, “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintanceship, Lady Krayvitch. I’m Draza Zorya of the Rheinfeld Republic, at your service.” She stands up a bit more after the fact before turning to her cart half full of sweets, “My services being a bit limited at the time, however.”

She eyes the cart and smiles sweetly, “Perhaps I could assist you then. We could banter as you go, then. A fair idea, no?”

Draza didn’t immediately pick up on what she meant, but it did click into place, “Oh, I wouldn’t dare impose on your training for you to accompany me into town. I’m not even on Blade business in my trip.”

Rayvon snorts, crossing her arms, “Am I not allowed to take off from Blades’ duties as well? It would be a refreshing break to accompany you, Lady Draza. I have been training enough this day and would prefer to handle business of a less… brutal nature, as well as it is to be trained with a blade.” Her eyes go over the cart curiously, eyeing the sugary treats and the sweet scent coming off of them. Her mouth waters as she remembers such scents flooding the kitchen in her youth every weekend. “Besides, it would be worth seeing the smiles of those who receive such boons.”

Scratching behind her head, Draza shrugged, “I suppose I could take your company if you’re so insistent upon it. Besides, I always, always make extra,” she said as she moved a blanket that covered another small basket mixed with the others, “Just in case. Y’know, if you’re interested, Lady Krayvitch.”

Her eyes are all but glued to the sweets that Draza reveals as she bites her lip and tries to turn her attention away from the golden cookies. “I, ah, as kind of a gesture that is, I imagine there are others who might like your sweets, Draza, and I would not feel right accepting them without compensating for the work you must had put into making them.”

“Pish posh dish wash, you’re gifting me with company, it’s only fair that I gift you back,” she said, slowly coaxing her mule to move again so they can talk about this while walking through the streets instead of just sitting in the courtyard.

Rayvon nods slowly, striding along the wagon lazily, “I suppose that could be true…” She smiles a tad and takes one of the cookies, nibbling upon it. “So, you are from the Republic. That could not have been easy. If I recall from my studies, Rheinfeld is a very harsh sort in regards to the other races.”

“They can be, but if you throw yourself into their cause, and pull your weight… however little there is you can get by pretty well,” Draza replied, “I was picked on quite a lot until I found my niche.”

Cookie crumbs over her face, the Paladin goes to brush them away, “Pick on you? Now why would anyone do that to such a peddler of treats and good thoughts, hmm? Tis simply not right.”

“It was mostly the children, and I was young at the time too. But, for the most part, it’s because I’m small and weak, so people think they can get away with it,” she shrugged weakly, “But then I let them get to know me, I become their friend, I welcome even their jaded words with a hug, and they tend to stop being like that. Even the Templars learned to like me.”

“It sounds to be a rather charmed life, bullies aside,” she muses, glancing at the small Draza. “I am surprised, though. With your apparent gift for making friends, surely one must have stepped up as your champion. It makes no sense that no one would come to your aide, to be frank.”

“I mostly end up talking them out of it,” Draza chuckled, “I end up feeling bad that they’d risk themselves for me, and I can’t properly pay them back. And, well,” she grinned a bit, sheepishly, “When I’ve set my mind to something, I can usually talk my way into or out of anything. While keeping the friendship. Like uh,” she continued, “The Templar guys I was with? They risked themselves for me, and I paid them back as much as I could. I’m sure if I run into them again they’d be willing to pick that spot back up if I let them. And there was this one guy in the Republic, a former criminal… well, I’ve had offers, is all I’m saying.”

Rayvon watches Draza out of the corner of her eye before looking back ahead, “Perhaps it would be wise of you to take someone up on their offer. I have heard of the way you won the day at the Westernmost tower. I am afraid, though, that to many in this world, the idea of friendship and baked goods does not appeal. It would do you well to seek a guardian in our line of work.”

“It’d have to be someone I trusted, and someone who also isn’t a jerk, and strangely enough…” she stops, “Well, I just don’t know enough people well enough yet, is all. Even the ones who haven’t been the nicest to me are still nice people. I know they are, because… well, I just do.”

“You have a very innocent and naive look at people. I hope you do not have the misfortune of meeting the less wholesome of our force. I have the feeling there are many in this work for personal gain and more so willing to commit atrocities so long as they profit,” she glances aside at Draza, “But let us not allow that to ruin this day. Where is your first stop, small friend?”

“One Chester A. Mapleleaf, this is actually his cart I’m riding in, and while I have already paid him, I also have the treats to give extra thanks,” Draza said as she cast a glance up to Rayvon before resuming looking at the road, “He was inclined to rent it and the mule at a lower than normal price, and I’m just reimbursing him for it. He lives,” she points off down one of the many side roads off the main wide ones, “Third street after the red oak tree by the fountain. His is the house with the white trim windows.”

She looks down the road curiously before nodding, “Ah, I see. Kind of you, then…” She taps her lip curiously, looking at the basket of sweets she had taken from earlier. “Ah, Draza, you said these were all extra cookies, right? Might I request a trade of those fine baked goods for my service in the future? I seem to think I know a family who might appreciate them…” She coughs, a light flush upon her cheeks as she remembers the stone mason’s family.

“If they’d make a family happy to have, then you can take them off me for free. My treat, you don’t need to owe me anything for it,” Draza said, beaming a smile up at Rayvon, “But if it’s a speciality delivery, I could bake something even more fresh and tailored to their tastes if you’d prefer.”

Rayvon smiles sheepishly, “I wouldn’t know what their preferences are, I just feel as if I still owe them for my request and how rudely I barged in after the scare with the bombs.”

“Oh, back in Arian?” Draza asked, “That’s quite a journey to be taking when the ball is so soon approaching. Do you have time to make it there and back again if you were to go?”

Rayvon considers it before shaking her head, “Only if I were to rent a horse, but at that point, it would still be uncertain. No, it may be best if I were to hire someone to deliver them specifically, perhaps?”

“Or, if we are not thrown into the wilds again immediately after the ball, you can arrange transport, and I’ll get you fresh sweets for the trip as well?” Draza paused, “And also actual food rations. I can do more than sweets, I promise.”

She beams appreciatively at the sprite, “That is quite well of you, and it would be much appreciated. Would you mind my perhaps helping with the task, though? I would not feel right, you putting in all the work, Draza.”

“Someone’s life is improved, and you get to pay your debts,” she said, “That’s all I need in return for my work. Speaking of,” the mule came to a stop at a cul de sac, moving over to the house that it knew as home without Draza guiding it. She tugged at its reins and brought it to a stop, “Hopefully Sir Mapleleaf is home. Do you mind picking up,” she looks at the various baskets of goodies before picking one out that had a small bit of yellow ribbon tied to it, “That one?”

Rayvon nods and picks up the basket easily, happy to assist the diminutive Draza with her tasks for the day, “Certainly. I am glad to be of service.” She smiles and winks, taking a step back and gesturing for Draza to take the lead.

The sprite hopped out of the cart, and with a pat of the mule’s leg, she walked over to the door and knocked. After a few light rappings, the door began to click and stir, as a smaller less obvious door within the base of the upper door opened up, revealing a gnome of all things. He was a tired looking soul, old and weary, with thick glasses, but his face still lit up when he saw Draza, “Draza! What a surprise, are you returning Eustice so soon?”

Draza shook her head in response, “No sir, I’ve come bearing gifts of thanks. Sweets for your marvellous great grandchildren. I’m sure they’ll love it and gorge themselves silly for weeks. I mean, check out the basket size!” She excitedly pointed up at the basket in Rayvon’s hands.

“Oh my, Draza, now you didn’t have to go about--” he began, only to be interrupted by Draza taking his hand in hers, their sizes actually being fairly similar. “Oh just take them. Be glad I’m not doing this and paying in full. You can surely accept at least one kindness from me after you’ve given me your own.”

Mapleleaf blushed and frowned, “Confound it, alright. You, big friend of Draza, I’ll get the door for ye, one moment.” The gnome closed the door and went back inside as things like latches and machinations were heard on the other side.

Rayvon, who had been silent watching the display, raises her brows at the curiosity. She could not remember seeing so many different races in a day as she had here in Renalta. It was a curious thing, to say the least. She waits simply as the door makes its way open and nods her thanks. Even though the larger door was open, she still found herself having to duck her head to make sure she fit through. “Thank you, master Mapleleaf.”

“Oh, t’weren’t nothing my dear,” the gnome says with a grin as he appears to do something… he’s quickly stopped by Draza, whatever it was that he was doing. She silently gave a glare before her eyes went back to cheery. “So, where can Lady,” she stresses, “Krayvitch set the sweets down?” Draza asks as she surveys the abode. Things were certainly scaled down for a gnome and sprite to enjoy the home, but there were still larger pieces of furniture there, more appropriate for a child or a dwarf. “Oh, on the table, the big one,” he replied, pointing at a moderately sized dark oaken table off to the side, where a single chair sat, “Laern can take care of that later.”

Rayvon looks at the gnome shrewdly before awkwardly making her way to the oak table to set the basket. She found herself trying to make herself as small as possible lest she knock something over and cause a mess. With a sigh, she finds a space that seemed like she could not wreak much havoc and simply stays put there, giving Draza a pitiable look, displaying her discomfort for a brief moment.

Draza looked up and saw the discomfort before quickly turning back to Sir Mapleleaf, “I would love to stay and chat again, but I have other baskets to deliver. Perhaps after the ball if I’m not sequestered away on a mission immediately?”

The gnome nodded, “That’s quite alright, we’ll talk when we get the chance. Your company is always welcomed here, Draza.” With their leave granted, Draza made haste to leave with her companion so she did not continue to feel so unpleasant in the confines of the home. They had other stops to visit, and more pleasant ones for her at that.

Rayvon clears her throat and mutters to Draza in a hushed tone after leaving, “I am sorry, I am just not one for such confined places.” She flushes and looks away with an embarrassed smile. “I had not meant to rush you, Draza.”

“It’s quite fine, Lady Krayvitch,” said Draza, “There’s plenty of stops left, and most of them will be better sized for your comfort. And,” she adds, “Without lecherous eyes. Mapleleaf tried to get frisky with me first we met, but I had none of his shenanigans. I apologize that he even tried it with you.” Draza sighed, before giggling a bit as she shook her head, “Dirty old man.”

Rayvon shuffles uncomfortably, her eyes going downcast. “Ah, I feel I have more than my fair share with lecherous beings of late,” she pouts, drawing her cloak tighter about herself. “Thank you, then, for coming to my aide before anything could happen.”

“It is nary a worry nor problem for me to save one’s good dignity and purity, see?,” Draza said in unusual metre but consistent rhyme. Probably intentional, as she doesn’t do that normally. An effort to try to lighten her mood as they continued their rounds.

She gives the sprite an amused look before nodding her head, “Still a kindness of you.” She chuckles and continues on, “Funny, I had thought you to need a guardian of sorts, but it seems you are the one playing the part of one.”

“Just doing my part to make someone’s day better when and where I can, s’all,” Draza says, almost dismissive of the notion of her as a guardian. “It’s no different than delivering the cookies, or handing out toys, or convincing a misguided child with great power to not kill others and instead take a sweet.”

Rayvon snorts and shakes her head but decides to muse over the strange words of the fae. She sets to walking alongside the cart once more before inquiring, “Perhaps, but you ought find a protector, yet, Draza. Your outlooks on life and talents are something we would all suffer to lose.”

She smiled up at Rayvon, before turning back to the road, “Maybe someday, Lady Krayvitch. But for now… I’m content and safe with the castle. Perhaps on our next… quest? Mission? Whichever,” she rolls her eyes, “I’ll find someone who can keep me safe if my own skills do not.”

She nods, still unconvinced that the sprite had a long life ahead of herself with these notions. Well wishes and sweet words, as kindly as they may be, did not save one wishing to change things. For now, though, she could spare the time by to be vigilant over the sprite. Who knew, perhaps a stray hawk would see fit to whisk the poor sprite away thinking her a morsel. The paladin, with that thought, suddenly found herself watching the skies as they continued along their way for the day.
Intermission; Aëyr and Draza

Lying flat on the top of the garden wall, Aëyr calmly surveyed the sky above her. As the day’s lights faded, she closed her eyes and embraced the blissful silence that now permeated her surroundings. A cool breeze lightly rustled the flowers and herbs below, and she embraced its gentle trickle across her skin.

Draza was relaxed, but not in the same way as Aëyr. Perhaps content would be better, because she was certainly tired from trying to stable the mule on her own. She certainly could have asked for help, but she likes the hard work; reminds her of home. From her time at the stalls, she decided that she’d take a brief jaunt through the gardens. Stop, smell the roses and whatever else was in bloom. Moving through, she saw that unsurprisingly she wasn’t alone in enjoying the garden, although the companion atop the wall wasn’t enjoying it for the same reason as she. “What ho, friend! Enjoying our fair weather?” Draza called out, before wiping the sweat and grime from her brow.

If Aëyr had had ears, they would have perked up at the voice of the sprite. A familiar voice to her, and at least not one of the pesky servants and commoners of the city. Instead, she turned onto her side and gazed down at the diminutive figure. She remained there pensively for a moment, before swinging down off the wall and landing with a dull thud. “Yes, I was.” She kicked the dry dirt at her feet absent-mindedly. “Though I would much rather it rain.”

“For the sound, smell, or feel of it?” Draza asked, “I myself love the smell of the rain upon a field. There’s a word for that, but I forget what it is.” With a sigh, she moved closer and looked up respectfully at Aëyr, “How have things been treating you since Arian?”

“For the air. It feels dry.” She looked down at the sprite, and finding this improper, kneeled down to look at her more head on. “I am not one for cities. Silence and solitude are my homes, be they free in nature, or locked in cages.” She held out her hand in greetings. “I am Aëyr, and you are Draza, yes?”

“Aëyr…” she leaned forward expectantly for a last name, “Lady Aëyr…”

She raises a pudgy eyebrow. “I am no lady.”

“But you do have a surname, right?” Draza asked.

Aëyr stares at her blankly for a moment. “No, Aëyr is the only name I possess.”

“Oh,” Draza blinked. She was not necessarily familiar with such a thing. Normally those had at least one, if not several types of additional names, some earned, given, taken, or otherwise. But only a first? Well, she could still be respectful to that, “Well, I can still be respectful to you, Lady Aëyr. You may not be a lady, but you still deserve the respect of one. Specifically as a Blade.”

“I truly do not deserve the respect you offer. I have neither class nor legends to my name. I exist merely to serve others, to better their lives.” She looks away for a moment thinking, before turning back to the sprite. “Were you not headed somewhere? I might join you, if you’d wish it.”

“And one who makes the lives better for people doesn’t deserve respect? Would you say a mother and her babe raised on her bosom doesn’t deserve respect of a noble, despite her noble profession of raising the child?” Draza stops after a moment, “Erm, regardless, I was going somewhere. A meal in my belly would be pleasant, and company at the table more so.”

With a slight smile gracing her face, Aëyr rose to her feet and slapped her blubbery waist. “I can always do with some nourishment.” She motioned for Draza to climb up onto her back. “I could carry you, if you’d like. We’ll make it there faster.”

She shook her head, “You don’t need to offer me that kindness. We can walk and talk just fine. So long,” she added, “As you don’t mind the walk and talk.”

Aëyr shrugged. “I don’t mind.” She moved off towards the dining hall, being sure not to walk at too fast a pace for the sprite’s little legs to keep up, knowing that she herself often walked faster than the norm. “As I see it, the form of respect you show me marks me as significant. I, for one, prefer to not draw the attention of others.”

“Would you have preferred I have left you be? If my company bothers you I’m sure that your speed could make haste to solitude,” Draza commented. “But! If you do contend to stay at my side for the duration, then I uh, do hope my respect marks you significant? In a good way. Or. Something.” Draza huffed and rubbed her eyes, “Not staying up so late tonight…”

“No, no, I do not mind your company. I simply dislike the crowds.” After a couple steps of silence, she resumes. “Although, I would prefer you to simply call me Aëyr, for whatever it is worth.” As they walked, Aëyr lightly brushed her forearm with her fingertips, thinking back to times past. “If I may ask, do you have any family?”

“I do have them, back in Rheinfeld. They’re living pretty happy simple lives, as they’d want to,” Draza says a bit listlessly, “Hopefully they’ll have nice boring happy lives for a long time. What about you? Also, why the opposition to the honour I keep trying to throw your way?”

“I had a shoal-sister back in the Free Holds, but we were separated. I can only hope she is doing well. As for honour,” she added, “I have no need of it. I would prefer not to be idolized for my actions, whether they have merit or not. As I said, I am not one for crowds.”

“I’m not quite sure how the honour gets crowds, alas, if you prefer I not then I’ll drop your ladyship off. Would respect do? Thanks? I offer a variety of responses to behaviours. I’m like one of my snack trays,” Draza joked.

“It’s—never mind, it doesn’t matter. There is no need for you to alter yourself for me. I would just prefer to be treated as an equal.” As they arrived at the dining hall, Aëyr opened the door to allow Draza to pass. “There is no need for formalities, seeing as we shall be serving together against the creatures from below the earth-bed.”

Draza stifled a laugh, “Not doing something to make you feel like you’re a great maiden would be altering myself. I’ve gotten so used to speaking well of others, I don’t think I could do any different for you. It’s habit, but I assure you of its sincerity.” She sighed as they finally passed the kitchen on the way to the dining hall, where they would get their meal, or at least she would. “Didn’t we already serve against one, however L--” she caught herself, “… Friend Aëyr? Or literally just Aëyr?” Draza seemed to actually be struggling with this notion of no honorifics, “Meryl and possibly others at Arian. Not the same as what’s ahead, but a taste nonetheless.”

“Aëyr. Just Aëyr, please,” she restated somewhat curtly. “Meryl…” she added, with a softer tone once more, “was not evil. It is not the same. I hope we shall never have to—to—to slay one such as her. If I am not mistaken, that is why you have come along, yes? To prevent, rather than to beget, violence?”

“Part of it! I also am good at making others join up and work with us. Or, well, that’s the hope,” Draza said, “And no, she is not and was not. She’s not malicious, just… uninformed. But, she was still something along the lines of what we have ahead, even if a child, ignorant and weak compared to a single soldier of theirs. So she totally counts,” Draza said, with a bit of a yawn.

Noticing the tired state of her companion, Aëyr designated that they make their way quickly to the tables and nab some food. “I can only hope we’ll be up for the challenge. I myself am best at fleeing, not fighting.” Looking at the food before them, she served herself a large chunk of sheep’s meat and a sliver of bread, quick to add copious amounts of salt. “though I do, of course, have other talents, if need be.”

Draza’s meal was far smaller by comparison, some berries, meat, and actually no bread. She’d had enough of that stuff in the morning and earlier. Now was a time for delicious dinner, best stuff first. Dessert would be later, if at all. Plopping into her mouth half of a blackberry, Draza suckled it a bit before chomping through and eating more with relish. Tired relish, but still relish. Wiping her mouth of any stains, Draza turned up to Aëyr, “You were pretty good at fighting, your footwork and sling were both impressive. What other talents do you mean, Aëyr?”

Aëyr sighed, debating whether or not to tell the sprite of her time in the Free Holds. While she had learned to shut out the shame that had come with her slavery, she was still fully aware of how poorly such things might be received. To have one’s freedom taken can be a great burden, but there were other things taken far worse. “Sex, mostly.”

There were few who would count sex amongst their talents, three groups primarily. Braggarts, whores, and sex slaves, and it was clear which one was Aëyr. “Oh,” Draza said, not saying much else, “I didn’t know.” She was quiet for a bit before speaking up, “No offence, but I don’t think that talent will be much use for the Blades compared to your fleetness and fighting finesse. Fornication, pardon my language, isn’t a common tactic for fighting off legions of horror.”

“Neither is baking cookies,” she responded.

A fair rebuttal, leaving Draza quiet for a moment before she almost spoke up. But, she caught herself, and thought more, looking at her meal. Then, she spoke, “I suppose both could be used to win allies in the fight.”

“I’ll do whatever is needed of me. After all, compared to the thousands at risk, what is the loss of one selkie’s decency?” Taking a seat at the table, Aëyr began to devour her food. “I’m sorry, I was cruel,” she added, with a twinge of regret. “Not all memories are as easy to digest.”

“You were being honest, and fair. Neither of those is a cruelty,” Draza said, still standing with her bit of meat. She went through meals pretty fast due to the whole ‘size’ thing, and was practically done as it was. But, she still climbed into a spot near Aëyr. She didn’t say anything, just looked at the woman, and kept thinking of what she had said. She was glad to have someone willing to give so much as an ally now, after the worry of some of the others, but also didn’t like seeing one with what felt like so little to give to give so much. That was not as fair as her sentiments were. But, these were quiet musings, as Draza ate her bit of meat in uncharacteristic silence, a respect for the woman. At least, she hoped.

The silence continued for a little while, as Aëyr quickly made work of her food. When she had finished, she licked the salt off of her lips, and turned once more to her ally. “I do not know that I make the best of friends, but I am glad to have you alongside me in the Blades. Perhaps our rabble of a team may just be able to combat the tide of this coming corruption.” The corner of her lips twitched upwards. “Though I admit I had been raised to swim with the tide, not against it.”

Draza shrugged, “Then we change the tides. We’ve banished gods, we can defeat the tide of corruption.” Though her words could be taken as pure bravado, she didn’t say it as much in a way that implied that. She was sincere enough in her saying it. She believed that victory would happen. “And, don’t fret. You’ll be a good friend of mine in no time.”

Rising from the table, Aëyr took her plate and held out her hand to take Draza’s, were she finished eating. “We shall see.” A pause. “I look forward to our next mission. Being cooped up here with so much freedom and so little to do leaves me somewhat sour. And yet you,” she commented, with a grin, “appear to be finding too much to do. Come, I think it time for you to rest. They will have need of us at our best potentials.”

Draza smiled sheepishly, “There’s always work to do, it may not always be world changing, but it’s there. And I was gonna,” she yawned, “Rest anyway. I promise.” She took the hand, grabbing the finger in her hands for a shake, knowing that’s probably not why it was offered at this point, but trying to bypass it. “I’m on my bed as soon as I’m done eating. Promise.”

Aëyr nodded. “I’ll see you at the ball, then. Sleep well.” With that, she returned her plate and left the dining hall, making her way out past the gardens and back into the city. Night had fallen, and she wanted to find somewhere to nap. Perhaps another nice wall would do.
Aragorn said
As a player of modded MC(Trust me, tons of experience with new world gen), new world gen will occur immediately after new chunks are generated. However, there may be some visible edges between new and old chunk generation(For example, you might get a giant flat wall of stone leading on to an plains biome). But other then that, it should be safe.


I now want one of these edges to happen

So I can build my home in it.
Intermission; Naream and Draza

Draza rode upon her cart with assorted baked goods from that morning down through the wide walls and streets in and around the Renaltan castle proper. She had already been through the servants' quarters and deposited most of her goods into the hands of the staff an crew of the castle, but still had to reach the further homes of those who didn't live within the safe walls of the keep itself who still had a hand in her efforts the day prior. The cart was drawn by a mule, and she kept it at a steady pace so she wouldn't knock over any of the goods in her possession as she moved through crowds of busy bodies and politicians while she made her rounds.

Naream was reading and expanding his tome of magic, the new additions on the crafting of golems would enhance his powers greatly, smiling he traced over the new lines of text. Yes the prospect of golems made out of bones, flesh and even other materials was something to look forward to. He rounded a corner and immediately let out a grunt as a mule of all things stood in his way, stumbling backwards and falling on his arse. "By the buttocks of the spider bitch who lets an ass wander without supervision!"

The mule reared a bit and Draza had to hustle to make sure nothing fell or got messed up from it. After she was good she popped up out of the back of the cart, "It's supervised! Mostly, sorta, kinda. What ho, hark friend I'm sorry that my steed knocked you such. We're just moving along in an effort to distribute some cookies, cakes, snacks and sweets as thank you presents to... well, the servants and some staff." She popped back to the cart's inside and rummaged for a pouch and popped up with it, "I have excess and an empty pouch, would you like some as a token of my apology?"

He blinked and stared, narrowing his eyes, "Since when did human children become so sma...." He trailed off, blinking again. "Hang on, you are the one who tempted that child with sweets are you not." He grumbled, "Apparently you are the reason we all survived that strange chess game. I suppose I can oversee this rude behaviour of your... steed." He looked at the ass... who was staring back and chewing on something.

Draza curtsied, "Draza Zorya, sprite, not human child. And yes, these are sweets of the same calibre that saved our collective breath... although it was not all me by any extent. Maeven did disarm the bomb afterwards. You did handle the monstrous illusions so I even could tempt Meryl, and more. It was a team effort, even if we were a bit scatterbrained," she leaned forward to pat the mule, "So I owe you my thanks more than you owe me anything. If the sweets are not enough of an apology, I can also make toys but I don't think those would be to your liking."

When she mentioned toys he for some reason got a image of a gigantic monkey golem with a pair of cymbals also of gigantic size squashing his enemies between them. He shook his head to clear it of that rather disturbing image and wondered if he had gotten enough sleep lately. "I am not much of a sweet tooth, or fond of playing toys, or at least not the kind of toys you would be able to provide." He smiles but there was nothing amusing about it. "So a sprite... your kind seem to be rare, down below the surface but also above, I almost thought you and your kind are the stuff of myths and folktales."

"Not a whole lot of us, no. We tend to congregate in smaller communities where we don't draw much attention," Draza said, "We're a bit like really really really tiny elves, but without the pomp."

And useless to most, he was looking her over, she would not even make a good undead... then again... such a small creature, perhaps perfect for a type of undead that would serve as a spy. He did not say this out loud however and merely nodded slowly, "I understand, what made you come out then however to become a queens blade?"

"Well, I was always more... out and about than my people normally are. I joined the Templar and helped with their uh... business," she said, not using more apt terms, "For a while... then I worked as a diplomatic sort with the Papacy, but then they went pure bad... then I worked with the Rheinfeld Republic and some guys up there in the war, and my legalese and diplomancy are why I've got a spot here. I'm usually good at making friends, if not at least allies." She leaned back and relaxed, "I'm not going to be the same type of blade as most, I can't beat someone up, but I can convince others to do it if need be.

He raised a brow, "I admit... I find it, difficult to believe one such as yourself is a accomplished diplomat... do some, if not most people, not take you serious because of what you are?"

Draza simply grins mischievously, "They may not, but they quickly learn that I write in a very different tone than I talk. Plus, I'm so tiny, fine print and clever wording is my forte when it comes to such agreements. If I was a meanie, I could have been quite the merchant advocate. But as is, I use my legalese for good, and help mediate others who are more hot tempered than I."

"I see." He smirks, "With that kind of thinking you might actually survive if you ever reach a enclave of the Drow." Assuming she would survive the trek through the Underdark.

"All I'd actually need is some sort of body guard to protect me from mindless threats, and I should be safe. Not sure if any of the Blades would be exactly interested in that," she muses, "But alas, I don't know if I could ask someone to risk themselves for me unless I can properly pay them back for their efforts."

Naream blinked and mused, "Hmm... how grateful would you be... if I were to... construct... a bodyguard for you, my expertise of magic... allows me to build loyal servants, guardians."

Draza echoed the blinking, "Erm," she didn't exactly know... or trust this person before her all that well. Likely, they'd want a favour, something at a high price, and their knowing her slightly cheating ways with parchment would make it hard for her to get an even deal if he say, refused that. Maybe, later... if they were to become actual friends instead of travelling companions. But now... "No thank you, I appreciate the offer though!"

Naream nods, "Understandable but I have some... ideas now thanks to this conversation, if you are interested, by all means seek me out and we can discuss it further, if you'd like of course."

"Maybe in the future, but for now I have to get going before these get too cold! It was a pleasure, er, running into to you," Draza giggled before the two went on their own ways again.
Draza's CS post has been updated again (it's on the first page) to include another character. A simple, but fun one with lots of potential character growth. I prefer them to Ynari even, plus combat character for Elendra, WHAT? So yeah, got that going on. And all the collabs. More to come tomorrow. Goodnight now though. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
Intermission; Maeven and Draza

The morning was not as early of one as yesterday, the party she had spent so much time at the night prior had definitely worn her out. However, she managed to get up as the sun still did, and Draza did her best to continue her morning routine. With a yawn, she crawled out of bed, and prepared herself for the day before heading to the kitchens again.

Maeven rubs her eyes, the wearisome bags having only grown in the night. She had been up much of it preparing Fafnir for the inevitable mission. Yet, even beyond that, sleep had eluded her once more. A night fraught with nightmares and terrors out the corners of her sleep addled mind were only spurred on by the faint murmurs and lullaby of the dragon who only condemned her for past actions. She shudders and rubs her arms, feeling unusually cold in the drafty castle in the wee hours of the morning. Compared to Tuleria, the kingdom was a land of cold. Her faint pitter-pattering footfalls lull her into a near comatose state as she paces towards the kitchen, stomach snarling viciously at her for sustenance as the midnight oil had only burned on.

The kitchen was a bustle, as it always was in the morning as the servants went about their duties to make meals for the morning’s breakfast, bake breads and prepare the ingredients and clean. The many hands went about their work on pots and pans over flame and water, with Draza half asleep in a corner, mostly undisturbed by her new friends in the staff. They would offer her a kindness or two, but in this morning she seemed like the only kindness she needed was something soft to lay upon despite the infrequent insistences that she would be fine.

Maeven’s arrival was something that would escape Draza’s notice, but not necessarily the notice of the servants. Having had a similar case of someone who normally didn’t go there arriving around the time Draza did the day prior, a maid came over to Maeven, “Excuse me, my lady, are you here to see Draza? She’s off in the corner right now,” she said, pointing in Draza’s direction, “I… think the fae is overworking herself… and,” she caught herself before commenting on the look of Maeven herself, blushing from her presumptuousness and stepping aside, “I’m sorry. Forgive me, your affairs are none of my own.”

Maeven looks at her stupidly for a moment, unsure what she meant before reaching out and clumsily fumbling a loaf of bread and some fruit into her hands. She shrugs and stuffs a mouthful of the bread into her face and mumbles around it, “Ish okay. Jus’ hungreh.” She does, however, let her gaze drift to Draza curiously after the servant spoke up. She raises her brow curiously at seeing the little sprite woman looking so… drained. It was nothing she had ever spied on the normally animated sprite.

She groans, rubbing her eyes tiredly with her sleeve, bread still clutched securely as she makes her way over, swallowing the chunk of bread. She grimaces at how dry it is, and awkwardly shuffling her bread into the crook of her arm snatches a retreating cup of juice as she settles down near the sprite. “Why so frumpy, lit’l lady?” she asks with a crook of her head, chancing a chomp into the Renaltan fruit.

There wasn’t much of a response, it appeared that between Maeven’s walking over and sitting down, Draza went from half asleep to just a bit more, and was actively dozing off in the powdered sugar, the airy sweet rocking back and forth with her breath beside her mouth.

Maeven raises her brows at the strange behaviour and instead, sets her food and drink down carefully before slapping the table jarringly. “Eh, Miss Fae. Wake up, it’s day time.”

Technically a lie, Maeven’s effort to stir Draza awake did work nonetheless. The sprite jolted up, sugar along her face where she was drooling a bit and it got sticky with the sweet, and powdered white in her hair as well, “Huh, what? Day? I’m awake. I’m making cookies.”

Maeven passes along her orange juice, “Drink up. The sweet ought to give you a little more gumption.” She snorts and then gestures on herself for where Draza was a mess, “And you might clean yourself up a little, lest someone think you forgot to tidy after leaving company.”

And that joke went right over Draza’s sleepy little head. She did pull out something to wipe her face off anyway, but could not begin to properly drink that orange juice without having to full body grapple it. Things can be made to scale down for little people, normal people cups of juice were still big things for her… and heavy. Regardless, her hair was pulled back and so she just dipped her face into it for a quick splash of cold and a drink. Or maybe she fell in, she was pretty darn tired.

Maeven grasps the cup to keep it from tipping over before maneuvering to edge Draza back a little, not wanting to see the little person drown in her morning pick-me-up. “Careful now, we wouldn’t me to have to explain to the Queens what happened to… Our mascot? That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

Unevenly blinking her eyes, Draza was a bit more awake now, just in time to be called the mascot. “Eh, mascot? I wish I was just that, would be safer…” she yawned, “No, that’s not true, I want to help. I’m just uhm…” her brain slowly moved into gear as she snapped her fingers, “Diplomatic… stuff. I’m good with the fine print, and working out like… diplomacy…” she yawned again, “Good at talking when I’m awake, I promise.”

“Thanks for the addendum. Cuz you weren’t fooling me otherwise,” she chuckles, taking another mouthful of bread and fruit. “I suppose its good someone is the wordsy type. I can spin a tale on the fly when need-be, but I don’t have the apt for getting really fancy and convoluted… Doubt most of the types I’ve seen are, either.” She sniffs and looks at the rest of her drink, deciding against it after seeing white sugar and a fae hair floating in it. “What’s got you up all night, eh?”

Draza mumbled something about ‘Lady Alicia’ in response to the ‘convoluted’ bit, before giving a full response to the question, “I was up later than I’m used to last night. There was a party, and it was originally small, and then I got involved… there was singing and dancing and boy could that man dance. Said he got practice from dancing with his daughter when she was about twice my size for dancing with lil people,” she rambled a bit, “But uh, birthday party. It was great.”

The Mechanist looks at Draza like she was some twisted creature from the Underdark itself. “Birthday parties. I thought only kids celebrated those things. Rich kids. Nobles, to be precise,” she furrows her brow, plucking at her bread before taking the last of it in a large bite. Mouth still fairly full, she keeps on talking, “Course, I guess you’re big enough to be considered a kid. And we are in a castle. So what the Hells. Let’s go with it.”

She blinked, “Wait, it wasn’t a party for me. There was this nice old lady, Granmere, it was her 68th birthday. Her family’s all dead, and people were pitching in to make the best of what would otherwise feel kinda down for her. She’s got a lot of good hearted people around her. And good cooks. People from all around the street came!”

Maeven simply blinks her eyes and shakes her head, “Should have bought the old crone a tombstone. She can’t have much longer in he-” She frowns, considering her words before shaking her head, “It sounds sweet and all, but a bit of a waste. Just my personal thoughts on it. Its sweet of them, I suppose. But isn’t there better things to be spending time and coin on? Like this impending demon war?”

“They already live in the frail shadow of a war with the gods, and every working hour ultimately goes to this new war coming up,” Draza said with uncharacteristic solemness, “If they don’t get some chance to enjoy life, they’ll stop feeling like it’s worth fighting for.” She takes a deep breath, her tone switching back to normal, “At least, that’s my personal thoughts on it.”

Maeven considers it before snorting, “Well, there’s less useless pleasures in life. A warm body in your bed, a gut-warming drink on your gullet, you know, things people actually do for fun. Not… Showering an elder woman with gifts and well-wishes when they’re only gonna keep her ticker ticking for so much longer,” she shrugs, standing up and stealing a new glass to drink from. She frowns and jostles it to the table at the heat coming through the wood. “Ach, hot. But it smells good…” Maeven shakes her head and gestures at the sprite, “So what’s happening with those cookies? Last one of yours I had was heaven.”

Draza would comment on the actual nature of the party versus what Maeven thought the party was, but decided against it when the woman changed subjects, “They’re heaven because good ingredients, and from lots, and lots of practice. I was a baker before I was really anything else, and that’s… a looooooooooooooooot of cookies. You get good after a while!”

She frowns, taking a sip of the morning brew. “Hmm. I imagine.” She swills the cup around. “This could use a cookie,” she all but pouts as she sets the cup down. “So what else did you do. Baker extraordinaire, diplomatic savant, and apparently team mascot now… Anything else?”

“I would hardly call myself extraordinaire or a savant… or mascot,” she adds before finally resuming her cookie making, nix napping within the ingredients, “But I also know some simple first aid from my time with the Templars. I could also if pressed maaaaaaaybe perform some of their rites, but not very well. It’s been a while.”

Maeven wrinkles her nose, “No need to do the rites of that order, fae lady. Not much of a fan of the sect.” She watches Draza mixing the ingredients with apparent intrigue. “I bet I could end up making that job a hundred times easier for you…” She muses what her old collection of soul gems could have done for this woman before shuddering at the thought. The cost for many of them had been too great.

Draza’s work was not necessarily a hard one, more a time consuming one. Small hands took more times across the board to get the same work done with smaller tools, let alone the normal sized ones, “I don’t feel the need for this to be easier. Some people garden to relax, others beat up straw men. Me?” she sets down the first batch of raw cookie dough she made that morning, “I make some mighty fine sweets.”

She furrows her brow before shrugging, “Guess that’s one way to put it…” She looks at the cookies with interest before smirking. “Anyways, mind making sure some of those delectable delights make it my way before they’re all gone? I figure I ought to make sure Faf is good for some test runs this afternoon. Make sure it’s all in line and on target.”

Draza smiled as she loaded them onto a little tray, “I can definitely make sure of that. You’ll get some reserved from this batch, and maybe a little extra from the ones I’m serving at the gala ball properly.”

“Fantastic. I’d share them with my friend, but he hasn’t the stomach for such,” she grins widely at her little joke. The poor dragon really didn’t, after all.

Draza didn’t quite know all about Faf’s workings, but she shrugged and smiled nonetheless and let Maeven be about her work, as she went about hers. Faf wasn’t going to calibrate himself, and these cookies weren’t going to cook themselves either.
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