So worried right now. My brother just got admitted to the hospital after swallowing six toy horses. Doctors say he's in stable condtion.
8
likes
3 yrs ago
Nice to meet you, Bored. I'm interested!
7
likes
3 yrs ago
Ugh. Someone literally stole the wheels off of my car. Gonna have to work tirelessly for justice.
4
likes
Bio
Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?
The men and women were given separate rooms, of course, not that Sven expected to spend very much time in his. He’d been to Hogh Munkhelad before, but never to Hoch Dorumvir! It was all of a minute before he’d pestered Esmii into coming with him to explore.
After Sven 'asked' Esmii if she wanted to do some exploring with him, she happily agreed to his offer, since she wanted to spend some time with him too. Upon meeting up with him, she gave him a little kiss on his cheek, having to stand on her tiptoes for it. "So where do you want to go?" She smiled, taking hold of his arm.
“Well…” Sven trailed off. There were so many options, but he had one, in particular, in mind. “Maybe we could go shee shome of the animalsh? If they don’t have a menagerie, maybe the shtablesh?”
Esmii smiled at Sven’s suggestion. "That sounds like fun. As long as we are together, I dont mind where we go." She held onto his hand, "Hopefully the others will have some luck in their searches as well."
Sven did not waste anymore time, and soon the couple were headed towards the stables, taking in the city’s early evening sights along the way. The tall Eskandish boy - even taller now after another year of growth - had to duck more than once and still managed to bump into a hanging sign and momentarily daze himself. Then, they were there…
@Kuro Yup. He's much more the latter. I did want to give him one moment of awesome at some point, just to not make his narrative so straightforward, but it's mostly meant to be a harsh dose of reality, gradually and crushingly delivered until he finds a way to rebuild himself. He's enthusiastic enough in the early going that he'll see, hear, and think no evil until things really catch up to him. Once they do... that's where the juicy part begins.
@Kuro In terms of my bandwidth, I intend to manage it by playing my characters in 'arcs', so to speak. Out of the six, I'll probably focus on two at a time, with the others being mostly background. As for Jason, I can certainly understand how he looks... risky. The whole idea was to take a character who absolutely feels like a trope and examine him more deeply: what does this sort of cringelord actually look like in action and what does he actually do once the real apocalypse comes? How much of his prior 'experience' and 'preparation' is actually valid? I betcha the little halfwit is just Jonesing to use his sword collection and all his parkour gear. How quickly does reality destroy the fantasy, or does it? Does he crack? Are there copious amounts of copium? To some extent, Jason was intended as a lampoon of a certain species of metagamey character, but I want to play him with some heart and authenticity as well. I'd definitely hoped to give him one or two crowning moments of awesome amid the trauma and endless humiliation conga and maybe insert some levity while I was at it, but I'd conceived of him primarily as counterprogramming. However, if multiple people feel that he's metagamey and it's a potential cause of unease within the group that you're building, even as deeply excited as I am about this RPG, I'm alright with bowing out as well. I'm easy!
Benedetto was spat out of the portal with velocity, and he hit the ground, rolled, and sprung nimbly to his feet, taking a whiff of that dusty desert air. This fucking place. His face immediately screwed itself up in a scowl and he spat, scanning his surroundings, before his eyes seized on... discount Jocasta and Jocasta's manwife. Where was the bitch herself? He did a second sweep and couldn't pick up her distinctive magical stench anywhere. Not in range.
Then, Tku landed with all the grace of an ocean sunfish trying to fly and, after a bit of self-narrative, launched straight into a pair of questions, the answers to each of which were obviously 'yes'. The Revidian let out a snort, crossed his arms, and sat on a rock. He could take it or leave it. The ruins were right here. They could ditch the others, leave them to fight a sand wyrm, and go take the glory and riches for themselves. Benny certainly didn't need Jocasta's help, but... it might be fun to punch a sand wyrm, and he knew that slimy Inipori who'd sent them - the one who'd just disappeared Silas - didn't like her and probably wanted to see her dead. Benny didn't really want to give that scumbag what he wanted...
He didn't wait for the tethered to respond to Tku. "How 'bout the others? They chopped liver or something?" He shook his head, standing and starting to search for a less familiar type of energy. "If they're not here, they're fighting it, but I got a way we can get there, I guess." He tilted his head to one side and grinned.
All who have been to Inner Torragon know it well: the place may pretend to be Avincian, but it is not. From the buildings to the language, to the people, its soul is that of old Zaqhoria and, when the sun rises over the desert, it knows no mercy. After promising to discuss matters at length with Ayla later on, Amanda led them down to the stables. It was still early morning, the rooftops of San Agustin silhouettes bathed in dawn's harsh light. The handful of people about inclined their heads respectfully towards her and her guests as they passed. "Madre," murmured more than one. Coasting smoothly down the smooth old stones, she greeted them in kind but did not stop. Jocasta and Isabella followed in her wake, all three pairs of arms moving in almost perfect synchronization. Then, they turned off of the main path and were there. There were two stablehands about, feeding and preparing the animals. They bowed. "Madre."
"Luisito." Amanda returned his gesture. "Mauro."
She eased herself onto the hay-covered floor, rolling up to one of the horses and and patting the side of its head. "As I explained upstairs, we are a bit short on horses just now," she advised, twisting to face the others as she adjusted one of the animals' bridles. "But I suppose you have other ways of getting where you're going now. Am I wrong?"
Glancing Zarina's way, Jocasta turned back to face the woman who had been the closest thing to a mother she had ever known. "You are not," she admitted. "I may save us a day's venturing out into the desert by means of magic."
Finished with the horse, Amanda gave it a final pat. She smiled, businesslike. "Just as well," she admitted with a shrug. "We did not have enough for you anyhow." With that, she rolled over to the horse's saddle and, from a long pouch, procured a rolled-up map. "Over my shoulders. Come." She unrolled it and held it across her lap as a few of them leaned in. "He left two days ago, for the ruins of Zarfan, down La Boca." Amanda pointed it out on the map and shook her head. "He's out of our sensing range, but he should be well set up there by now." Her eyes flicked between the members of the group. "If you can teleport, then you can get there and relieve our rangers. We need them for defense."
"And I'll send them back?" Jocasta inquired, though it was more statement than question.
Amanda nodded. "I don't imagine it should take long," she decided. "So I'll only keep one of you behind." She smiled softly and some colour rose in her cheeks. "You wouldn't begrudge a mother some time spent with her child, would you?"
Marci started. "I um... I don't wanna be deadweight I can -
"Stop acting tough," chirped Isabella, "and go see your mom while you still can. Besides, you'll be guarding San Agustin, right?" Was she suppressing an ironic smirk or was she not?
"You're mine, little calabaza."
"Seriously!? Are you trying to make me die of embarrassment, mom?
It was early in the morning when a portal glowed bright and rippling in the courtyard of the refuge. Amanda sat in silhouette, with Marceline at her side, hair whipping like black snakes in the wind coming off of it. They waved and then, with a little salute from the last of the five, Ayla, Zarina, Yalen, Isabella, and Jocasta were through.
It was always as if she had blinked, so sudden was the change in reality. Reddish-beige cliffs rose to either side of Jocasta and she was on the hard, gravelly dirt beside a small watering hole. In the near distance rose the weathered ruins of Cervan - or Zarfan, to its original inhabitants - carved partially into the cliffside. She could see anyone here, so she reached out with her magic senses for Escarra and his rangers, only to find...
Nothing.
They weren't there and, in fact, neither was anyone. A pinch of worry invading her insides, Jocasta twisted to look up at Yalen and over at Isabella. "You guys drawing a blank too?" she prodded, and their answers were affirmative. It was time to reach further, and so she spread her senses out, sweeping the region at ranges only her fellow tethered could come close to reaching. There were the usual energies: arcane from the sun, kinetic from the wind and the shifting sands, and the agglomerations of both combined with chemical that denoted living things. Yet, as she searched further still, an invisible mass settled itself atop her stomach and she felt her pulse quicken.
She found a group seven people about three kilometers to the northwest, close to where they'd found the aberration a year ago. Only, they seemed to be on top of some kind of rock promontory, or so the kinetic energy of the wind lashing against it told her. However, they were not alone. Jocasta's gut wrenched itself further and her hands tightened around her wheels. "It's a sand wyrm," she rasped, voice barely above a whisper. She twisted to take in the others. It was... at least... "A fucking alpha." damned near three hundred feet in length. It was circling them. This didn't make sense. Sand Wyrms were supposed to be rare, and they rarely went after something so insignificant as a human unless it was opportune. In her entire life up until last year, she had seen precisely one: breaching the sand about half a mile distant, from the refuge walls. That was the day that monsters had become real to a twelve-year-old Jocasta. But she was a monster too, she remembered.
"It has them trapped on some kind of rocky outcropping, two miles north-northwest!" she shouted, already drinking a massive amount of energy in from her surroundings. The winds went still, the sky darkened, and the air grew colder. If it was clear that they were trapped and could not harm it, the Wyrm would emerge from the sand and pursue them overland. She had no idea how long it would be until that happened: it could yet be hours; they could be mere moments from death. "We need to go right now!" she screamed. "Right now!" A portal tore apart the air before them. Dimly, she could feel the leviathan in the distance as it broke the sand and belched white-hot fire. One of the little human energy signatures, too slow to react, was consumed. "Wait! Yalen and Isabella: keep your range!" she commanded, "I'm only going there to port them out." She suited words to action, barrelling through.
She emerged right into the eye of the storm: a maelstrom of 2700°F fire.
The portal swirled and warped and then, as if they'd just been thrust from a popped bubble, five young men emerged into the burgeoning late morning heat of Torragon's Dune Sea. They were Evander, Desmond, Fiske, Benedetto, and Tku. Not all of them stuck the landing but, when they looked up, there was a man and a woman waiting for them, looking more than a little bit anxious. Their eyes, seeming unfocused at first, quickly snapped to the group. They were Yalen and Isabella and they didn't waste any time upon recognizing who the five. "It's a Sand Wyrm."
Welcome to Primitive, Chapter Two: Into the Fire! Already, mystery and danger threaten to kill not only the party's as-yet unmet allies, but the party itself. Why is the sand wyrm attacking Escarra and his rangers? Why are they two miles to the northeast in the first place? Why have the five boys been sent through and what can they do to help? Below are some action opportunities.
1) The new arrivals can and should talk to Isabella and Yalen. Finding their way to the fight might be a good idea. 2) Jocasta, Zarina, and Ayla will need to defend a massive jet of white-hot fire from the Sand Wyrm. It's rolled a 46! This is an alpha and is every bit as strong as the monster that you faced at the end of Deserted, even without being tainted by an aberration. 3) They should try to make up a quick plan on the spot. There is a lot of pressure and little time, so nothing too detailed! They can fight it or try to distract it while Jojo rescues the stranded rangers, or try to get to the bottom of this first mystery right there on the spot! 4) Feel free to play out your first moves. I'd recommend discussing them on discord first, however. 5) Good luck, and happy posting!
Penny normally would not have been the sort to ask a question of a clearly hostile host, but she could tell that everyone had wanted to ask and none had the courage to do so. What do I care if Miss 'Stay Away From Muh Home' doesn't like me? Not like I'll ever see her again. Truth be told, it irked Penny. It shouldn't have, but it did, and the bearded lady had said just enough to make her uneasy about the mission because she knew that there was a lot more being left unsaid. If you're going to throw us into mortal danger, the least you can do is tell us what's really going on. It didn't sit right, on top of what the Arch-Zeno had told her: it really didn't, and the eighteen-year-old found herself wondering why she'd even agreed to this whole thing. This is not something a future ruler of Perrence does. You're not a tool, Nel. Fuck! It was her need to do something 'useful', she knew: a thirst for some sort of ill-defined 'adventure' after seventeen years of being confined to the palace grounds. Rash decisions from a stupid girl with insecurities. She had half a mind to kick the partially open door, but restraint was a good thing to practice, and she didn't.
Really, she wanted to vent, or at least express her worries, but she had nobody here except Yuliya and Yvain who she really knew or trusted, and... they were both dubious for different reasons. Esmii had tried to be nice and Penny had thanked her, but she'd already learned that the yasoi was like that with everyone. 'Helpful' was her default setting, and I don't know you well enough to confide, anyhow. Besides, she'd been giving that big Eskandish boy goo-goo eyes the entire time. They were an item and... Ugh. Maybe that's why Penny had found herself falling into a 'mood': Jammy wasn't here and she already missed him and she worried. He was in West Kerremand, Eshi-damned cesspool that it was, and they couldn't look out for each other. A metaphorical vise tightened around her stomach. If anything happens...
She shook her head and she... walked. She had the day here, in this place she'd never visited before, she had a satchel, and she had some money to spend. If the one-legged woman was an object of curiosity here, it was just as much because she was a human as anything else. The familiar ambient sounds of a city echoed back towards her in an unfamiliar way. It was weirdly claustrophobic: no sky above, save the ever-lingering haze towards the top of the vast cavern, and the all-encroaching dimness. Even with the gas torches, the mirrors, and the skylights carved into the stone, it was like moving about in the later moments of dusk. Her eyes adjusted well enough, though. They were yasoi eyes and she was the only one in her family who had managed to inherit them from an ancestor some four generations back. It was enough of a sensory smorgasbord for her worries to start fading. Her crutches clicked and her foot thumped and she lost herself in the familiar ritual of just moving: moving nowhere in particular.
First, she picked up some traveling clothes: just as anyone might expect of a foreign girl in a strange place, but then Penny decided to go for something else. She worked her way to where the firearm vendors were and put down ten magi on an imbued pistol. Knowing what she knew, she moved to where they sold explosives. "Uz chlud" she assured the confused seller, having looked the words up in her little book of translations beforehand. "U... ligha...ich... muhl." She mimicked an explosion, even providing sound effects. The flinty-eyed Hegelan on the other side regarded her intently for a moment. Then, his facade broke. He reared back and laughed. Penny blushed and laughed nervously herself. "Iiiid... lugh? U dolris...tiss muhl... she flipped furiously through the little guidebook. "Vadu!"
There was another pause as the laughter died down. The small man on the other side smiled thoughtfully. He let out a sigh, held out his hand expectantly, and Penny promptly placed the two magi in his palm. He pocketed them and then moved about his stall, procuring and packaging just what she'd asked for. He handed her three little bundles and she slipped them into her satchel with a small bow of gratitude and an overpracticed "Tim Unkh!" Then, she was off, so pleased with herself that she was practically skipping. Just wait 'til I tell you all about it, Jammy! She hoped that he was having as much fun as she was but, first, it was time to put in an appearance with Yuliya and go shopping!
1) For mining 2) I buy five big. 3) Sooo... yes? I have three big money. 4) Thank you!
I don't have a strict preference myself but I do like to keep things uniform. Since everyone else seems to be going for IRL FCs, I'd suggest to do the same for your sheet if possible.
Will do. Just gimme a little time for that. We got a start in mind?
Hopefully they're tropes but subverted instead of just tropes. The different art style for each is meant to be thematic. Not sure if it actually is...
T H E S P A R L I N G F A M I L Y T H E S P A R L I N G F A M I L Y
"They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. They say..."
[ ❇ ] B R I E F F A M I L Y H I S T O R Y
The Sparling name is an old one in Huddeen. Faded headstones in the town's graveyard bear testament to that. However, their line has been rather sparse over the past couple of decades as successive generations have left for the greener pastures of Boston, Providence, and New York. Then, a dozen years ago, family matriarch Hattie passed away and the old family house ended up in the hands of her granddaughter, pregnant young grad student and former wild child Alana, along with her growing family. Moving back from Boston to the town where she used to spend summers with her grandma after her parents' divorce, she brought her husband Devon, a stereotypically geeky storyboard artist, and her children Lila and Jason. While the grand old home was everything they could've hoped, vintage 1970s-era decor and some electrical issues aside, their first few years were difficult, as Devon had to switch jobs, Alana had to delay setting up her own practice when their youngest daughter Winnie was born, and Lila suffered an accident that confined her to a wheelchair and necessitated the installation of a ramp and extensive renovations. Things have calmed down since then, and the family has flourished... at least outwardly.
While Devon's career has taken him to conferences across the country and Lila has gone off to the Juilliard School in New York to study violin, small-town star athlete Jason doesn't see much of a future, Winnie grows ever stranger and more introverted, and Alana continues to fray at the edges as she wears too many hats, commutes for too long every day, and juggles too many responsibilities in her desperate determination to make sure that her family won't go the way that her parents' did. Add to this the recent arrival of Devon's older sister Carina from Boston, fresh off of some serious controversy, as well as Lila back on holiday, and things are... volatile. Oh, then zombies. Zombies have happened too. Is there any way that this fraying family can pull itself together long enough to survive and maybe even be an asset? I guess we'll have to wait and see.
Growing up, Alana was just about the most obnoxious possible version of a ca. 1995-2002 first-gen edgy gamer girl. She never thought she'd be a psychologist. She assumed her job would be something in a creative industry but, here she is, and there's a kind of art to patching minds back up, she supposes. She's certainly had to do more than her share of that over the course of her life. As an ex-urbanite, this mother of three commutes into Manchester for work whenever her job requires it of her. While she was born in nearby Nashua, Alana's parents broke up when she was small and she bounced around. She spent much of her later childhood and early teens in Huddeen with her grandmother before moving to Boston with her dad and becoming a child of the early internet. Luckily, her most absurd exploits were pre-social media and, just after her twenty-second birthday, she was a mother anyhow and her crazy days fast faded. After inheriting her grandmother's house a dozen years ago, she packed her young family up and moved out to Huddeen, with its lower cost of living and safer streets. Now into her early forties, Alana's weathered far more storms than she'd ever imagined and is a lot number to it all than she imagined that she'd be at this point in life. She'll often go on about how she loves this town, and is an active member of all the relevant community organizations. Embarrassed about her wild past and her husband's at-times immature behaviour, she tries as hard as she can to fit in, never quite feeling like she manages it. Secretly, her interest in her marriage is waning but, remembering her childhood, she's determined not to let it fail. You know how they say that shrinks are as much of a mess as their clients? At least she's not abusing prescriptions... yet.▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.
If Alana eventually grew up, Devon never quite managed the trick. A storyboard artist and gig worker, he pursues jobs in the videogaming industry with particular gusto and has built up a fairly impressive portfolio. A proud nerd and daydreaming creative, he lives for his work and loves his family, very much in the mold of the 'cool dad'. He convinces himself that it's natural, but he works hard at it. Yet, he can also be a bit of an avoidant husband and father: enthusiastically there for the good times but absent for the more challenging ones. While he's certain it's only an unfortunate coincidence, he's beginning to understand how bad it looks and how much trouble it's causing his loved ones. Devon's never quite mastered the fine art of 'adulting', but he's trying. He's always been somewhat awkward but has grown socially and in confidence over the years and has become unused to failure. Sometimes, however, in his more anxious moments, he suffers from impostor syndrome. He constantly worries that his creative spark is leaving him and that he might end up embarrassing or holding back his family members, particularly his daughter Lila. As his career has finally started to take off in recent years, he's been seeing more of her in New York and they've grown somewhat closer. At the start of our story, Devon's trapped in Boston where he was attending a conference. He calls his family on the phone at every opportunity while they still have service. He's trying to get someone in the Boston Quarantine Zone to do something or, barring that, to make his way back, but he doesn't quite know where to begin.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.
A surprise child and the reason that Alana and Devon are married, Lila is twenty-one as the story begins, and was visiting home from university in New York when the epidemic struck. A perfectly average, if somewhat rambunctious kid before being paralyzed from the waist down in a tree-climbing accident at the age of twelve, she was forced to reinvent herself and find new purpose. Since then, with her mother's relentless support , the oldest of the Sparling children has become the sort of inspirational story that's a magnet for bursaries, scholarships, speaking engagements, and interest pieces by local new outlets. An extremely talented violinist from an early age, she has already featured in major productions and boasts nearly a hundred thousand subscribers on her YouTube channel. Living the young, sophisticated urbanite's dream, Lila has left her small-town roots behind and flourished in New York: a young virtuoso headed for success. Yet, deep down, vicious insecurities about being a burden - about being incapable and unattractive - tear at her, and the constructed world and its many obstacles act as constant reminders that she cannot just do many of the things she would like. In truth, she is very much like her younger siblings, though they probably don't think of her as such. In her dreams, she's still a spontaneous creature, wandering the neighbourhood with Jason in tow, climbing trees and hiking in the ravine, pulling Winnie in a wagon, and playing games of tag or basketball that stretch into the night. There's a shared history with her family and she loves them, but she hasn't spent all that much time with them in years. She loves her mother, too, who pushed her hard to pick herself back up and to succeed, but there's something else there as well: resentment at stealing her away from her childhood with endless practice, rehearsal, and travel, for molding her into an 'inspiration' instead of a person. With her friends, in their little shared apartment, Lila's fun, irreverent, and vivacious, always ready with a quick quip or pithy observation. Here, at 'home', she increasingly feels like the odd one out in her family of lovable losers. Huddeen is a pleasant place full of fond memories, but indelibly part of her past, not her future.▅
Three and a half years younger than Lila, Jason was always playing keep-up with her when they were kids: in school, where teachers went on glowingly about her; for attention, where she seemed to lap up their parents' love with her musical talent and witty remarks; and in the little pencil marks measuring height on the doorframe, where he could never quite catch her. Then, after she had her accident, he won the third of those battles definitively, and lost the others. As his parents' and, especially, his mother's attention reoriented itself toward Lila, and his playmate returned home less able to... play, the boy found other ways of entertaining himself. Where his father was a genuinely creative person, Jason merely aped and dreamed. Instead, his talents lent themselves elsewhere. A natural athlete and good with his hands, he is a mediocre student at school, but well liked by both teachers and other students, co-captaining his high school basketball team to the state's final four in his junior year. Yet, the scholarship offers from major universities haven't exactly been flooding in. He enjoys shop class, console gaming, and skateboarding more than anything else, and is just tall enough to dunk on the basketball hoop in the driveway. In between occasional games of Horse with his dad or his sisters, it takes relentless punishment while the curbs and railings in town see similar treatment from his skateboard. At the end of the day, Jason is more than a little bit edgy, with a mohawk, a couple of tattoos, and a fondness for music that would make his once-rebellious parents blush. This, he eagerly blasts out the window of his 2007 Buick, recently purchased from an estate sale for $1700. There is nothing academic that really interests Jason, but he can play shooters and zombie survival games for hours and, yes, he has a (very humble) sword collection. With little to no direction in life, a secret part of him is... weirdly kind of excited that the apocalypse is nigh. He's already constructing traps and barriers and he practices with his cheap knockoff katana in the backyard. Perhaps the dire nature of the situation just hasn't dawned on him yet, so the question is: when will it?▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.
Six years younger than Jason, Winnie was - like her sister - an 'accident'. Her parents hadn't intended to have a third child, but her older siblings were thrilled. At eleven years of age, she's a quiet, socially awkward, and very active girl who doodles, explores, and daydreams as much as her father ever did growing up. He'll never admit to it, but she's the child he understands most and he spoils her with new games, art supplies, and the sort of long solo father-daughter days out that Lila never had the chance to get. Lanky, gangling, and much taken with idiosyncratic fashion and scary things at a young age, Winnie is greatly enamoured with minecraft (and secretly, sacrilegiously, roblox as well). Both in-game and out, she often tags along with her older brother when he lets her and tries to recreate that sense of adventure in real life. He's become a more reluctant partner in crime lately, though, as he heads toward adulthood, and she's started playing more mature games in an attempt to keep up with the person she most admires and wants to be like (though she'll never admit it, of course). While not actively disliked or bullied at school, the youngest Sparling daughter is definitely not one of the popular girls either, and she catches some flak for spending almost as much time with the boys as she does with her assumed tribe of rambunctious pre-pubescent girls. A characteristic of both ADHD and autism, Winnie goes through intense monthly obsessions, gobbling up every bit of knowledge that she can on random subjects of interest. A cultural magpie plucking greedily from the fertile environs of tiktok, discord, reddit, wikipedia, and YouTube (where she's dutifully subscribed to her sister's channel), she is almost uncannily knowledgeable about random trivia and it is the one thing aside from minecraft that she will reliably and enthusiastically speak at length on. Out of necessity, she has now set her mind to the task of zombie apocalypse survival and relentlessly marshals her family to do the same.▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ ▅ Use as many or few of the above symbols as needed to balance this cell with the cell containing the image.
▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅ "To me, 'bossy' is not a pejorative at all. It means somebody's passionate and engaged and ambitious and doesn't mind leading." ▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
Z A N E T T I, C A R I N A || P A T E R N A L A U N T Z A N E T T I, C A R I N A || P A T E R N A L A U N T
Carina never set out to live up to her name. She never wanted to be a 'Karen' and she cringes inwardly (and outwardly, for she can do nothing with subtlety) at the thought that people might consider her one. Three failed marriages, a circle of friends as superficial as they are materialistic, and repeated run-ins with the glass ceiling pushed her to the edge. One ill-advised incident broke her. As a girl, Carina was always the favourite child, and quiet, awkward, artsy Devon ever her shadow. Popular in school, she looked out for him, she protected him, and when he was getting his start as an artist, she let him surf her couch for months on end. More than one potential boyfriend was scared away in that manner, but she never said a word about it. Carina loved her little brother. Rather, she loves her little brother, and her nieces and nephew. She just wanted a family of her own, but she fell for jerks: handsome jerks, badboys, rich jerks, and just, well...pigs. She'd seemed never to make a bad choice growing up and, even as her career advanced and she made all of the right connections, everything seemed to go wrong outside of ever-fancier job titles. The men in charge said that she was bossy, but was she really? The first time that she was passed up for a promotion, she held it in, waited, and didn't jump to any conclusions. It happened again, though, and again, and she took her story to the media. Not much happened except a couple of articles and a horizontal move to a new firm. Again, she was passed up, despite giving her all to the company and sacrificing her marriage for it. A third job and a third marriage ensued, and then came the fateful day when she'd just had too much and a Starbucks employee gave her this smug little smile as he knowingly shortchanged her on her Venti. There were cameras and they didn't pick up any of the nuance and she went viral. She was publicly released from her job. She was doxxed. She was divorced. She was canceled. Carina was even sorry at first, but not after how vicious they all got. So, she bought herself a gun for self-defence, packed up her things, sold her apartment, and moved out to Huddeen to lick her wounds once the worst of it died down. She will see if her brother is as generous with her as she was with him.
They were not traveling only through space, it seemed, but through time as well. It was afternoon in Wánggǎng and Yalen was among them. The arrival of the group from Ersand'Enise was no secret, either. The portal dropped them in a cordoned-off area in the centre of a large plaza. Seagulls screeched and wheeled overhead and a crowd of curious onlookers began to gather almost instantly. A young boy, holding his mother's hand, jumped up and down excitedly and pointed in their direction, shouting something in ReTanese. Others gathered to gawk and a couple even began to move forward until halted by barked orders and raised weapons from two dozen sharply-uniformed guards. Nearby vendors glanced in the direction of the new arrivals out of momentary curiosity, but their eyes fast became calculating and, within seconds, they seemed to have adjusted their messaging, gesturing at the Lǎowài and promising discounts to cater to the growing audience. Wide flagstone roads stretched off in each of the cardinal directions, and an endless sea of buildings in that distinctive ReTanese construction that most had only seen drawn on canvas, parchment, or fresco surrounded them. Paper lanterns swayed in a light seaside breeze, some thumping against wooden posts of the structures that they hung from, and it was - in general - an absolute carnival of sights, scents, and sounds.
A greeting party of a dozen stood before them: Eleven men and a woman, all dressed in gorgeous formal robes that marked them as government officials. All but two of the outfits had a similar cut and colour, differentiated only by some unique highlights and a distinct symbol. The most illustrious of the group stepped forward and offered a very small bow. A short and thin man of middle age, his long, sharp beard was shot through with a handful of grey streaks and he wore a particularly ornate hat. "我向来自巫师城的旅人问好。我希望您在协助我们解决这个问题的同时，在我们国家度过愉快而富有成效的时光。我们感谢你," he began, and the lone woman in the group scampered up beside him, quite young and quite awkward in her fine clothing. She bowed quickly and deeply and began to translate. "My greetings to travelers from the wizard city. I hope you have a pleasant and productive time in our country while assist us with zis problem. We sank you!"
Then, the man in the ornate hat continued, addressing them all but seeming to pick Yalen out as the figure of authority within the group. "我是本市洋人区副区长侯建红。很高兴见到你。" He offered a quick smile and gestured towards the others, waiting for a moment. "I'm Hou Jianhong," the woman translated for him, pausing for a split second, "the governor of foreigner's district in this city. Pleasure to meet you." Her eyes did not meet his, nor did they meet the party's for more than a brief, curious moment.
"这就是文志豪，逻辑与激情的典范," continued Governor Hou, and one of the men bowed. "This is Wen Zhihao, a model of logic and passion." The translator further explained that they were to introduce themselves to Wen Zhihao.
"这就是杜阳，接受和行动的典范," came the next, and the second man bowed as well. "This is Du Yang, a model of acceptance and action." The ritual repeated itself.
The governor gestured at another. "这就是谢军，信任与怀疑的典范," he announced, and there was another bow. "This is Xie Jun, a model of trust and doubt." It became clear that each of these men would receive an introduction and they would be expected to do the same. In the background, the crowd milled and discussed excitedly. There were hundreds now, and particularly curious glances were stolen at Ingrid, Trypano, Maura, and Kaureerah. Young preteens with trinkets and sticks of skewered meat raced through the fringes of the crowd, hawking their wares.
"这就是武龙，创造与毁灭的典范," came the next in an increasingly tedious lineup of men in fine robes and hats, but this one was different. "I am Wu Long," he introduced himself, stepping in front of the translator, who backed away with a start. "Funny name, I know. Maybe I was destined for greatness or shame with it." he shrugged. "We will see which one, I guess." He reached out to shake hands in the twin continents style. "I hope you can forgive our long ceremonies here in ReTan. They are part of our culture and important to us." He spoke as he shook, addressing all in turn as well as all at once. "I also hope you can help us catch this evil from your homeland that has come to our country. I have been told you are experts." His enthusiasm was palpable. He burned with it. His Avincian, while accented and perhaps a touch formal, was nearly as good as some of theirs. Then, he bowed again, retreated, and they were introduced to Wang Chao (exemplar of obedience and initiative), Huang Min (exemplar of truthfulness and 'something like lying'), Xiao Da (exemplar of community and individuality whose name, the translator cheerily related, was rather an oxymoron), Chen Jiahao (exemplar of self-preservation and bravery), Guan Heng (tradition and reform), and Hu He (nature and human creation). All the while, the guards stood at attention, occasionally shouting at passerby who got too close though, by and large, the people kept a respectful distance.
Finally, it was finished, and the sun was a good deal lower: golden over the concave rooftops of the vast city. There was a brief but long-lasting moment where nobody seemed quite sure what to do. Then, Governor Hou began barking orders in rapid fire ReTanese, too fast and complex for the likes of mere learners of the language to catch more than the odd word. He spoke, in particular, to a guard with a slightly embellished uniform and the woman translator. Both answered crisply in the affirmative. The governor smiled widely and nodded in the direction of the students before he had his horse brought up. The guards pushed the crowd back, clearing the way for him, and some of the people began to call out with various entreaties, prostrating themselves on the ground. No matter. This was no place for that sort of business. It was to be handled by official avenues. Then, he was mounted, and the ten other men followed, the colourful Wu Long clearly employing some magic to leap atop his horse with barely an effort. Other than that, magic had seemed... strangely absent from the cityscape and crowd, at least compared to the more familiar environs of Ersand'Enise.
The translator fixed her hair for a moment and turned to them, glancing back at the retreating governor and exemplars a couple of times. She knit and unknit her fingers and bowed again. "Nice to meet you!" she exclaimed. "My name is Jiang Xiulan. In ReTan, ze second name is actually ze given name: opposite wiss your countries, I sink. You can call me Blossom, zough." She seemed to be stifling a giggle. "I have been choosed to your local guide of ReTan while you live here."
There were nine guards remaining and one, in an embellished uniform, stood at their head. Tall and muscular, he was clean-shaven, short-haired, and definitely not unattractive, with an upright posture and martial bearing. "This is guard captain Zhu!" Xiulan explained, gesturing rather grandly in his direction. He bowed stiffly at the waist. Then, to their surprise, he spoke. "Nice to meet you," he said in heavily-accented Avincian. "I am Zhu Kai. Sorry I Afince not good."
"He make the speech by his self," Xiulan explained. "He has many practicing." She tried not to giggle. "I sink maybe he's Avince not so good, but maybe mine not so good also, hmm?"
"I understand you," the guard captain said, deadpan, and Xiulan blushed fiercely. "See!" she exclaimed, "He improve already!" Turning his way for a moment, she spoke in rapid-fire ReTanese, and it was clear that she was just translating for him and then asking him to prepare the guards to start moving. They carried on a brief conversation before she turned back to the group. "He would like me introduce he's gauds." She gestured to them in turn and they all gave slight bows or nods or salutes. "Guad-man Peng, Wang, Dai, Chen, Huang, Zhang, Zheng, Xie, and Zhou." Xiulan scampered out to the front of the group, twisting on her heel. "Zey will with us for all of time we're here, but we will go ze inn where you live first." She smiled broadly and her voice dropped conspiratorially as she began to lead them. "I sink you were very lucky, actually. This place is usually so expensive, but offered you stay free."
Captain Zhu marched out front, four of his men flanked them to each side, and one brought up the rear. Beyond the human walls of their escort, curious onlookers either glanced their way or followed them, some chattering rapidly among themselves in ReTanese or something that sounded similar but was definitely different. Many waved or smiled, and children zipped and weaved among the crowds. It was near to sunset and at least a handful of bedraggled looking mothers, aunts, or grandmothers tried to corral the excited little people. "We take you zere tonight and you rest and settle in," Xiulan was saying. "No talk about traveler yet. Your real work should begin tomorrow."
So, they followed. What choice did they have? They contented themselves in conversation with each other or their guide and caught little glimpses of life in this place that was so strange and yet so familiar as well. Vendors were busy closing up shop for the day. The last couple finished haggling and the doors of many of the large tenements were constantly opening and shutting as their residents arrived home from their daily responsibilities. The wide street that they were on became a smaller one, and then a smaller one still after a few turns, and they could catch glimpses of the ocean and the strange sails of ReTanese ships in the near distance, just beyond a couple more rows of houses, shops, and warehouses. It smelled very much like fish for a bit, but then they were past it and turning onto a slightly larger road. It was late Rezain up here in the northern hemisphere, it struck them, and the trees burned gold, orange, and red with fast-shifting leaves.
Kaureerah, for one, was happy to be done with the onerous introductions, and was now feeling inspired by the scenery. She walked along towards the rear of the pack, giving the two couples their space, and pulled out her lute. She began strumming chords and humming and this served only to further entrance the groups of people who seemed to loosely follow along. "Hell-lo!" came the odd shout, as the locals employed the only Avincian that they knew. "Welcome ReTan!" said one who was particularly good. Smoke from cooking fires began to fill the air as the sun dipped below the rooftops, and a little boy and girl sat on the edge of one of these, dangling their feet over and munching on some sort of steamed bread. Mouths full, feet kicking idly back and forth, they both started at the sight of the foreigners and waved. "Almost zere," Xiulan assured them cheerfully, "And I sink dinner will be ready! Do you ever try ReTanese cooking before?" She seemed excited.
They hadn't gotten very deep into the subject when the guards came to an abrupt stop, forcing the rest of them to. Captain Zhu barked out orders rapidly and four of his men - Wang, Xie, Zhou, and Chen - split from the formation and rushed off down a sidestreet.
"Wha... what just happened!? Rikard demanded, and Kaureerah ceased her soft strumming. They had sensed the use of some kinetic magic in that general direction. Some people retreated indoors, though others seemed largely unbothered.
Xiulan's hands bunched up the folds of her dress and she glanced about in thin reassurance. "Oh, nossing to worry about, friend! Just some silly guy probably tries steal a chicken or somesing. Not your traveler agent, haha! It is guad's job go stop small sings like zis. No worry, I sink. We can keep walking. We can meet them there at ze inn." She pointed to a large building with a little manicured garden out front and waved them forward. Guard Captain Zhu, after a quick, wary glance in the direction his men had gone, nodded and seemed to relax. He managed a reassuring smile. "Okay," he declared for their benefit. "Okay, we go."
Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?
Stay awesome, people.
<div style="white-space:pre-wrap;">Oh gee! An age and a gender and interests and things. Yeah, I have those. Ain't no way I'm about to trigger an existential crisis by typing them all out, though. You can find out what a nerd I am on discord, okay?<br><br>Stay awesome, people.</div>
op2024
Suicharte
Jumbus
Fallenreaper
pantothenic
Lildear18
BlackRoseSiren
Carlyle
Ti
Silly
