Time: Afternoon Location: River Fairy Kingdom - Treeant Inn Interactions: Yuka @princess, Aiko @CitrusArms, Xavier @Potter Armor: Adamantine Half-Plate and Steel Chain Mail (currently in his room) Weapons: Apricus; a Mithril longsword, a steel sheild with barrier charm (currently in his room), and a steel dagger. Mount: Cow, a black and white Oak Horse (at the stable) Equipment: Bow and quiver of arrows. Small backpack: 1 large red potion, 3 medium blue potions, 3 medium red potions, darksight glasses, wayfinder, and fire kit. A transmission bracelet (connected to Augus) and a pouch of amas.
Of course, she’d actually want to wear a bell.
“Sure, Yuka, we’ll get you a bell later. Can’t have you jingling around the forests.” He’d have to remember to look for one next time he was out, see if she’d actually wear it. Since they were all gathered together, Orias clapped his hands together and shared a plan for the day.
“Today is Abertha, a day to celebrate sacrifices and give thanks. We owe a lot to the River Fairy Kingdom for keeping us safe these past few months. So let us try for a successful hunt and in our success, we can offer a feast for those who have been kind to us here at the inn. That is the Avalia we fight for, Xavier, one that is unified, and one that takes care of one another. I suggest we head to the southern forests, lessen our chances of heading too close to dangerous territories.” To the south were both River Port and the Sun Elf Kingdom, both remained under light elf control, which should limit their chances of running into trouble. The northern forests led to Aldrakh which made danger a more likely possibility as did the unknown of the east which held dense forests that were much harder to keep a tight patrol on.
“Though no matter where we go it is best to remain vigilant, someone is to stick with Xavier at all times, and no one goes off alone.” He added, mostly looking at Yuka who was always the wild card in any given situation. Not that she was defenseless, but out of all them, she was the most prone to being reckless.
Going outside of the city was a risk, a calculated one, but still a risk. But they couldn’t stay safe and hidden for the entirety of the war, they needed to do more than training and sparring and a small risk was the place to start.
Any objections? Anyone need anything else before we head out?”
Time: Morning Location: Dugmaghord - The Pit Interactions: Pâsh@Alivefalling Weapon: Meliora a cobalt glaive with unbreaking and returning charms Armor: Just the clothes on his back Equipment: Lockpicking kit, small knife, 3 large red potions, and a pouch of amas.
Leaf studied Pâsh as he spoke, watched as a fire lit up the orc’s bright eyes as he spoke of battle and victory. Pâsh was not haunted by it, he was strengthened by it. This was part of what made an orc so strong, it wasn’t just being born all big and bulky, it was the way they accepted what they were and used it to their every advantage.
Now Leaf could go about spinning just about any adventure he’d gone on into a tale, most folks he knew did that sort of thing and it was what kept fireside conversation interesting. But orcs weren’t so indulgent, and Pâsh’s story was simple and to the point. Leaf emulated this.
“Today was a good victory, today I was my nature, a predator, it has been too long since I was what I was meant to be. Orc and predator, we ain’t so different, designed to shed blood, I will embrace this now.” Leaf spoke with confidence. He had once seen the image of a demon and shrank in fear, and that was not what a cat was meant to do. He was built to fight; from claws to fangs a cat was made with a purpose in mind, to take down prey and threats alike. Battle was no different than a hunt, he would embrace warfare as the orcs did and he would be a better cat for it.
An orc returned with a massive tray of food and Leaf wasted no time as he grabbed an Ergin rib and tore into it. Being around orcs was freeing, he did not have to worry about how he ate, no expectation of table manners here, they welcomed the part of him that was wild and savage.
Time: Morning, around 10am Location: From outside Danrose Palace, to the washroom, and to the Shooting Range Mentions: Riona @JJ Doe, Princess Sadie @Potter, Verrick @Aerandir, Thea @Tae
Would ya look at that?
It seemed Riona was entirely capable of proper behavior, today, it seemed, was just irritate Leo day for no reason that he could see other than their paths had crossed at the wrong moment.
Verrick’s foul presence was only a further aggravation. The nerve, to hang around my family, after the stunt he pulled. Thea and his mother might be willing to forget how Verrick had thrown the now missing Duke through a window, but Leo would never let a slight against any of his family go.
“I’m surprised you believe a little mud is going to ruin your day.” Verrick went about running his mouth as if his very presence wasn’t insulting enough. “And I thought you were an outdoorsman.”
Leo extended nothing but an eye roll in the Woodsman’s direction. Time and place for it, you’d think you know that, smug bastard. His jaw only tightened, it wouldn’t do to outright insult the princess’s bodyguard in front of her. He didn’t trust his temper enough to keep his tongue civil.
Thankfully, Princess Sadie dismissed him, and Leo wasted no time hanging around.
The Gossamer was no longer an option, the servant had managed to sully his shoes, hand, and more than likely his clothing following the unfortunate forced hugging incident. There was no time for a full and proper bathing before breakfast and he could not show up at The Gossamer with the slightest bit of his attire out of place.
He was a reflection of Stravy, and he would not be seen as some sort of half-civilized podunk nobleman. But that was fine, Leo was adaptable, and an archery competition was just as good as a fine breakfast.
Better even, a bit of competition and sunlight out near a peaceful park. It would clear his head up and a bit of dirt wouldn’t be out of place there.
First, he headed to the washroom to rid himself of the most obvious reminders of this encounter. He scrubbed furiously at his hands, then shoes, tried to remove any traces from his clothing, then his hands again.
He focused on letting it go, one unpleasant encounter would not ruin the day. And it was going to be a good day. Archery competition, an excellent start, plenty of competitions to watch or take part in after that as well. Sorian excelled at providing entertainment.
He made sure he was calm and presentable before leaving the washroom. He reminded himself why he was here, despite everything happening within his family, to show the world that Stravy was strong, that Smithwoods were strong, and even under pressure, they did not break.
He caught a carriage to the shooting range and entered his name for the competition. His day was already feeling brighter, outside in the fresh air, warm rays beating down, and a soothing banjo being strummed nearby. He spotted Thea, almost impossible not to in a dress brighter than an oriole, and noted she, at least, seemed well today.
But the competition was set to begin soon, which left little time for a chat, so he used any remaining time before it started to warm and become acquainted with the provided bow.
Time: Afternoon Location: North Pass, Out hunting Interactions: Rue @Potter Armor: Leather Vest with Armor of Deflection charm, Rest of outfit minus the gloves. Weapons: Steel Short Sword with Shift Charm transforming it into a chain knife, and a small boot knife. Equipment: a backpack containing: 1 large red potion, 1 green potion, 3 large blue potions, 2 small blue potions, a hunting knife, a flask, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, matches, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs (skaula and zemak), rolling papers, pipe, a gorestria gem ring and a pouch of amas.
“No,” Bowyn said, hesitation in his voice as he looked at the moose. He didn’t need first dibs, hunting was never about bragging rights for him. “But before you shoot, I have to ask, how do think we are going to carry that back?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It was a huge animal; if they could bring it back to the village, it would feed many people, and that was a good thing. Maybe if Ishmael were here with his fancy cart and boar they’d be able to lug that creature back but there was no way the pair of fairies, even if Moony was helping, could drag that carcass around.
And, he didn’t want this excursion to be over.
If she shoots a moose now the hunt is over, there was more than enough meat for them, the group, and plenty left over to give some away to others in North Pass. Then what? Back to the village when all he wanted to do was be in the peace of the forest? Well, that was selfish, he shouldn’t be like that. “I guess we could use the snow and ice to our advantage, bit of magic to get all that back to town. Gods, Rue, we could feed a lot of hungry people with a moose.” He whispered with a smile. That was the sort of thing old Bowyn used to like to do, and it felt good to think like that again. “Go for it.”
If there was one thing Callum excelled at, wallowing was it.
He stared out the window of his room. He drank. He imagined what life was like for a bird. A life spent flying free through endless, open, skies. A solitary bird, one that knew how to be alone without feeling lonely. He drank more. Or maybe a cat, or a fish. Something that didn’t have to think far beyond the moment.
If Callum was most like any animal it was a dog caught up in chasing his own tail, running in circles for something always out of reach until he tired himself out and accepted defeat.
Had Wulfric helped him because they were brothers or because it was an easier way for Wulfric to deal with him?
How long would it take for him to forget what his mother had nearly done today?
How long would remember feeling accepted by Auguste and Ana?
How long before only saw Auguste’s unwillingness to stand against Edin and Ana as casually careless again?
He’d love them, until they let him down. Then he’d hate them, and he’d hate himself for being one of them. They’d all be a family tree that bore only rotten apples. Until he needed something, or he wished for love and acceptance and he’d look for them. Then he’d remember how kind Auguste was, how brave Ana was, and how his mother loved him in her own, flawed, way. Then only Edin would be the rotten branch that kept trying to spread his venom through the tree. He’d love the rest of them until they let him down.
It would be so much easier to let it go, accept what he had, and be grateful for it. Just be a normal family all the time, to not live under crushing tension around them. A life spent somnambulant.
Maybe he could just accept them for who they were, in their faults and strengths, but it wouldn’t close his eyes to how much everyone else around them suffered at Danrose’s hands.
He couldn’t be on both sides. He couldn’t live in circles.
He tried not to fidget with his clothes or hair. Callum settled with picking and chewing at his fingernails. He over-picked everything, until it was ugly and flawed, in his thoughts, and towards his fingernails.
He messed so many things up. Maybe he should leap and take flight from the window, pretend he was a bird for a moment. Thoughts like that used to scare him, but now he found them strangely comforting like there was always a way out if he needed it.
“Try until you get what you want. Mess up until you get it right.”
And why did that piece of advice scare him more than anything?
Callum walked over to his desk and pulled a small knife from his desk. He would be decisive, there would be no more forgetting, no more living his life in circles. He dug the knife into the wall and carved into the walls of his bedroom things he was going to remember.
He did not carve these words anywhere hidden and each letter ran the length of his arm. Callum would see this every time he set foot in this room. Edin lived off the suffering of others, his every success was to another’s detriment. But that was only the start. Callum had stopped thinking of Edin as his father a long time ago, the man who had sired him was a rotten soul beyond hope, and he’d never forgotten that, but that old realization had been the start.
This statement hurt more than just his hand as he carved the words but he knew he had to remember this one. He would not forgive his mother for what she had done today. There would be no gifts or hugs or small signs of affection that would soften him. She would’ve condemned a man to die today. He would not think of her as a mother.
He was done with trying to see them as what he wanted, they were what they had become. Poor excuse for parents, poor excuses for people, and he wasn’t going to let blood tie him to them.
Callum stopped thinking of himself as a prince a long time ago, but that had been easy, he’d hated that title from the moment he knew everything it meant. But he still thought of himself as Callum Danrose and he needed his surname gone too. He would not be his family's mistakes.
This he wrote even larger than the last two. He was not going to become what his parents were; a parasite, a monster, another rotten Danrose. He would figure out what it was to be just Callum, to know exactly what it was he wanted and how he was going to try for it.
He wrote no condemnations of his siblings, they didn’t deserve it, they were still just as much not their parents as he was. He was not going to hate everything, just the things he couldn’t live with.
Callum took a drink as he admired his work written across the walls of his room. They’d see it, sooner or later, and that was scary, but not enough so that he felt the slightest regret about this. He’d see it, he’d remember it, he’d believe in it and he’d try harder.
The servant Leo had seen as simply having a dangerous streak had become outright diabolical. Muck from her shoe now covered her hand as she made a show of grabbing at his hand, and then attempting to wipe said muck onto his face. He grabbed her hand before she made contact, gripping her wrist and keeping her from any further contact.
All his thoughts, and all he saw, was red.
He was here losing a verbal battle against a stable hand who was now only tossing mud and filth about as if it was clever. And the problem was that it was working, that he was losing any patience with this, and all he wanted to do was break that hand. Instead, he let her hand go as quickly as the thought of violence had entered his mind, and then took a step back to put more distance between himself and her.
Much like dogs, servants acted out because they lacked proper training, much like dogs, beating them only exasperated this, it was not a solution, and Leo would not be the sort of man who beat a dog because it was not trained right. This was not his problem and he would not let it be his problem any longer.
“Enjoy this. Let it bring you comfort when you return to whatever hovel you crawled out of, and I continue to enjoy every comfort -” Leo stopped talking as Princess Sadie announced her arrival in Sorian.
Oh fuck his absolutely rotten luck. Of course, despite his efforts to be a presentable lord, he was now in the presence of Varian royalty with mucked-up shoes and a filthy hand arguing with the unimportant.
“Your royal highness,” Leo extended a full and proper bow at the addition of the Varian royal. He was quick to sidestep her attempt to clean his shoes. “I must insist, you are too kind, but I can attend to my own shoes.” He smiled through his utter confusion at the princess's every action. Helping in the stables? Him? Like a servant? For a source of amusement? He tried to imagine a more dreadful waste of time and failed to think of one.
Riona, he learned the servant’s name from Princess Sadie, had at least provided him an out of this situation. All he had to do was simply excuse himself to attend to his appearance and he could be rid of this conversation. Before he could do so, Princess Sadie pulled both of them into a bizarre and uncomfortable group hug. I think I’d actually rather hug a wild boar. As soon as the princess’s grip loosened he moved further from her reach as well and hoped to never repeat the experience again.
Princess Sadie had inherited all the softness her father possessed, qualities far more flattering on a princess than a king. Right now, those qualities had morphed into something detestable, forcing him to share any embrace with such a loathsome commoner, ignoring all proper boundaries that kept nobles separated from the lessers, and then she continued to ramble on as if there was nothing wrong with what she had just done. When she finally paused long enough to take a breath, Leo spoke up.
“I’d say I am looking forward to seeing the horse race, Princess. A beautiful thing, the symbiotic relationship between master and animal, to see the horse run as it was built to do, and its master lead it towards success in their shared discipline.” He spoke mainly keeping his focus on the princess before flashing a grin in Riona’s direction. “Perhaps we’ll continue this conversation on horses, though I wouldn’t want to keep you from your duties, I’m sure there are better uses for your time.” He hoped that she’d make herself someone else’s problem for the remainder of the summer.
“No need to further bore you with my thoughts, I should clean up a bit and head out. Enjoy your morning Your Highness.” Leo bowed again towards Princess Sadie but paused to wait for her to excuse him. Possibly another mistake on his part, as she was prone to rambling on, and all he wanted was to wash his hands clean of the entire situation, but it only seemed the proper thing to do here.
Time: 9:30 am Location: Anastasia’s Room to his own room Mentions: Anastasia @princess, Auguste @Inertia
Callum had shaken his head at much of what Ana said but didn’t argue with her. He only hugged his sister back, it wasn’t the words that mattered, but the support behind them, and, for once, he wasn't looking for an argument. Here, for a moment, there was just the feeling of familial connection, strong enough that it had even pulled Auguste towards them, offering similar sentiments.
And there it was, what kept him only toeing at the line but never quite crossing it. Despite how much he hated Edin, and despite every day seeing less and less of anything worth knowing left in his mother, there was so much light in his siblings. Times when everything lacking in his parents was so evident in them and all the love and acceptance their parents kept rationed was freely given when they needed it from each other.
Today even Wulfric had felt a little more like a brother than a distant golden protégé of his father’s.
“Thanks, for that, it’s nice to hear. I’m here for you, whatever you need. But right now I’d better ready myself for the onslaught of eligible noblewomen.” He offered another empty smile, leaving shortly after Auguste had, doors closing behind him. It was nice, feeling like part of his family, but it was a fleeting comfort and it did little to stave off what bothered him.
Callum retreated to his room, it was less comforting than the castle’s library, but here he was at least alone. He knew he should probably bathe away the scent of last night’s party from his skin, make himself look his most presentable for the absolute sham of The Prince’s Court. He grabbed a bottle from where it sat on his desk only moments after entering. Callum’s choice of drink was cheap, strong, and burned its way down his throat, offering a quick, reliable, source of comfort.
Someone had gone through his things, but not ransacked, only a few items sat slightly askew from how they normally were, and, for now, he paid it little attention. If it had been someone to worry about it would’ve been much more of a mess, because Callum, kept a great deal of things he shouldn’t in his room. Most of which were hidden in a way that could be described as the bare minimum. Furniture with secret compartments and coded books were no great obstacles for the kind of people his family had on hand if they ever sought to investigate him past the surface. Part of him wanted to know exactly how far they’d go with him if they knew how little he regarded their laws.
He washed his face only to wake himself up further, wetted down the bits of hair that stayed out of place from his restless night, and used whiskey to wash the taste of stale breath away. He caught glances of his reflection in the mirror, dark circles framed tired eyes, and did he always look so pale? He removed last night's clothes, dressed in a proper suit for the day, and let the scent of the warehouse linger on him. Half-way presentable and maybe just haggard enough to keep his line at Prince’s Court short, surely any guests would prefer his far more presentable brothers.
He spent some time in front of the mirror, drinking from the bottle, and working on excuses for why his appearance was subpar should either parent question him. “I am dressed and on time. I think I look dashing, can’t look any better without a solid’s night sleep-” no that wouldn’t do. If he brought up his lack of sleep that would only remind his parents of last night. He should avoid that. “I’m pretty sure my face always looks like this. Hair too. Bad genetics.” And probably shouldn’t say that either.
He studied his fake smile, hating how fake it made him look. A liar’s smile. But he was a liar, he was just a poor one. “I’d hate to steal the spotlight from my older, better, and woefully unattached, brothers.” That might be good enough to use on Edin at least. It would probably be better to just smile politely and hide behind Auguste, maybe his parents were upset enough with him that they wouldn’t look at him much anyhow. “And, hey, maybe pigs will take flight, and hell will welcome a sudden cold snap.”
He gave up on talking to himself and flipped through the notebook on his desk, found a list of what was used from his stash, and tore it out. He memorized what needed stocking up, and rewrote the things more difficult to procure back down, everything he kept for his records was in his own handwriting. He struck a match, burned the original piece of paper, holding it between his fingers until the tips of his fingers stung from the heat, and tossed the last remnants into the fireplace where it finished to burn until only ash was left. Cal was careful to cover up the traces of anyone who broke laws against magic alongside him. There was no room for error here.
He knew if he had he shown this much care towards other aspects of his life, Darryn would’ve never gotten caught in the crosshairs of one of his minor rebellions against Edin. A single thought beyond ‘yes, a party, let’s go’, would’ve led him to see that having Darryn involved in any way was a mistake. But he hadn’t put any thought into it, he’d heard party, no titles, and thought only of drinking and not being alone. He had Edin’s same propensity towards selfishness, he only displayed it differently. He tried to think about something else.
The list he’d burnt had been basically a magical equivalent of medical supplies, nothing dangerous, not in his eyes. And yet, it was. Because the right words, the right intent, and few easily obtained materials, meant even those without the means for a physician could find relief from a variety of ailments and wounds. That was the very least magic could do, but at its strongest, it made the old proverb of knowledge being power, more true than most could imagine.
There was a clear reason why magic was so severely outlawed; it could put power into the hands of those the nobility were desperate to keep under their heel. He could see that, he just couldn’t see a way to use that without getting someone hurt. More often than not, the people who got hurt in Caesonia were the ones who didn’t deserve it. The world was unjust and unfair and there was no solution he could see, and he didn’t know how to live in the world the way it was, and the thought of trying to fight against it while not seeing a way to win, was terrifying.
So he plopped into an uncomfortable chair, knowing that collapsing onto his bed would probably mean instant sleep, and only stared into the bottle of whiskey wondering where so much of it had gone. He planned to just sit here, let time pass, feel warm and empty until the clock neared eleven and he would have to deal with the world, and all it was, again.
Time: Afternoon Location: River Fairy Kingdom - Treeant Inn Interactions: Yuka @princess, Aiko @CitrusArms Mentions: Xavier @Potter Armor: Adamantine Half-Plate and Steel Chain Mail (currently in his room) Weapons: Apricus; a Mithril longsword, a steel sheild with barrier charm (currently in his room), and a steel dagger. Mount: Cow, a black and white Oak Horse (at the stable) Equipment: Bow and quiver of arrows. Small backpack: 1 large red potion, 3 medium blue potions, 3 medium red potions, darksight glasses, wayfinder, and fire kit. A transmission bracelet (connected to Augus) and a pouch of amas.
Orias felt clawed hands grip his shoulders, his hand immediately went to grip his dagger even as the rest of his body sought to leap outside of his skin. After four months of constantly waiting for a threat that never quite came an anxious Orias gave an exasperated sigh as he found himself facing the cause of most near heart attacks, Yuka.
“We should get you a bell to wear, Yuka if you insist on stalking me like a cooped-up housecat.” He said, hand releasing its grip from the dagger’s handle. Aiko followed shortly behind Yuka, mentioning their unlikely involvement in a royal hunting party. He gave a grateful look towards Aiko, hoping that meant they were joining. Aiko’s presence at least split Yuka’s attention, and the dreamwalker got along far better with the feline than he did. He found it difficult to express anything more than annoyance at her inability to take anything seriously for longer than a passing instance. He constantly had to remind himself that Yuka was helping them, in her own way, and it was not a cat’s nature to behave like an elf,
“We’re all going then? Where’s Xavier? The boy should have a better understanding of what we’ll be fighting for, a deeper appreciation for Avalia will help motivate him.” He found no sign of the normally punctual human, a damper on the day’s plan. He needed to find the right motivation for Xavier, something he could draw upon when the time came.
Time: Afternoon Location: The Nest Mentions: Helio @princess, Barboda @Alivefalling Equipment: A cutlass, 2 knives, 1 dagger, a spyglass, a wayfinder, a pouch of amas, and various jewelry.
“Ay right now he may indeed be one wasted fairy but that ain’t the lad to mess with. Sent more than his fair share into Aklenroth's embrace 'n' many more to come. Best let him do as he wishes.” Nym spoke to those who surrounded Helio. He only chuckled some as he watched Helio teetering atop a barstool spouting off his own version of their encounter with Arden.
They were all off duty, Helio was more than free to make his own bad decisions right now. He imagined it was rough on the fairy, to be so at odds with his nature, a fairy gone dark, better designed to end life than to foster it. Helio would have to work that out in his own way, perhaps giving in to drink would lead him to give in to what he was now. Nym could see the necessity in this, he had the patience to wait for the lad to grieve the loss of who he’d been because once Helio was done with his catharsis, a truly dark fairy would be an incredible asset to his crew.
It was Barboda who saw the need to intervene, grabbing Helio’s leg and knocking him to the floor. Nym only rolled his eye and let the two of them sort it out. He was captain while they sailed, and in a tavern, he would not be playing babysitter to two squabbling sailors. He waited, only half his attention on the two, but with no plans to intervene unless things escalated to anything past a simple bar fight. Some men needed to blow off steam, and most things were best settled on shore than the sea.
Time: Afternoon Location: North Pass, Out hunting Interactions: Rue @Potter Armor: Leather Vest with Armor of Deflection charm, Rest of outfit minus the gloves. Weapons: Steel Short Sword with Shift Charm transforming it into a chain knife, and a small boot knife. Equipment: a backpack containing: 1 large red potion, 1 green potion, 3 large blue potions, 2 small blue potions, a hunting knife, a flask, small tent, blanket, waterskin, rope, fire starting kit, lightmaker, matches, cooking pot, a bar of soap, some drugs (skaula and zemak), rolling papers, pipe, a gorestria gem ring and a pouch of amas.
Bowyn waited for Rue to return, his hand absentmindedly scratched and petted Moony’s head. And return she did, and almost immediately the ever-loyal Moony returned to her side. There was another brief moment in which Bowyn truly found himself without words as he saw Rue clad in finely studded leather armor, a lance held at one side, a loyal wolf flanking the other side. He hardly noticed his mouth hung agape until he went to offer a reassuring smile.
Avalian history and myth were littered with stories left behind by the past humans, right now he thought of the tales of mighty Valkyries, fiercest warrior women from human’s winter realm. Stories that had mixed and blended themselves in seamlessly with Avalian tales and myths until it was rare that a child of winter didn’t grow up picturing those same mighty warriors severing Alysia, goddess of winter, and protecting and guiding those same winter fae.
“As beautiful and fierce as the apex of winter, even Alysia herself trembles with envy.” Bowyn finally spoke as he followed Rue, flanking the side opposite Moony. The same loyalty that velcroed the wolf, pulled Bowyn along as well. Once outside Rue suggested hunting without the group.
“That noisy bunch? Surely they’re going to scare off anything worth hunting in an instant. We’ll get a head start, show ‘em how it’s done.” Bowyn was quick to agree with Rue. Didn’t they deserve quality time? Everything was only going to get more difficult as the drums of war beat louder. One day where things felt normal, just Rue, Moony, and him hunting in the snow like old times. He could even try to be more like he was, the better Bowyn who didn’t spend all his free time dreaming of violence. “And there is no company I’d prefer to yours.” He added, continuing to follow Moony who seemed gleeful to lead his pack.
Time: Morning Location: Dugmaghord - The Pit Interactions: Pâsh@Alivefalling Weapon: Meliora a cobalt glaive with unbreaking and returning charms Armor: Just the clothes on his back Equipment: Lockpicking kit, small knife, 3 large red potions, and a pouch of amas.
Celebrate? Drinking? Now Pâsh was really speaking his language. He followed the massive orc from the pits ready to enjoy the rare chance to relax amongst the greatest of the orcs. Leaf and his rattled brain didn’t really understand why Pâsh thought he needed a bodyguard but who was he to argue with the top orc? So he nodded and set that aside to think about later. Leaf accepted the cup and immediately dunked it into the barrel from the hole Pâsh had punched into it. At least it was something to fill his stomach with, he’d been hoping for a plate of ribs so large he couldn’t see over it, but this would do for now. He looked down into the cup, picked out the few splinters of barrel lid that floated on top, and took a long drink. A great warrior and a showman! He thought of the ord leader.
Leaf struggled not to cough as the harsh drink burned its way down. He always forgot how strong the orc’s alcohol was, not like the refreshing punch they were always serving back home. Like much of orc culture it was not designed for comfort, it was made to be effective. The ease with which orcs drank the powerful drink only reminded him that orcs were built differently from any other race he’d met. Everything an orc did consistently served to strengthen them, they would always endure, and they never searched for the easy path. War would not break an orc and if he could become half as tough as them, maybe it wouldn’t break him either.
He studied Pâsh, careful not to hold his gaze on the orc for longer than a second or two, but studying the way the grand chieftain carried himself. He watched every fight in the pit as if his own survival depended on it. He tried not to think about food, even though that thought kept slipping in when he tried to stay focused. If he’d gone hunting he’d probably be eating something right now. But that was the easy path, he had to do what was difficult until it was second nature. Until he was more like the orcs; strong enough to withstand facing demons and enduring war. If he failed, if he wasn’t strong enough, he’d be no use to his group, he’d let them all down.
“Grand Chieftan, if I can ask it, which o’ your many victories held the sweetest taste? Was it the huntin' of the Hygora shrimp?” Leaf asked, careful in his phrasing to not imply anything Pâsh might take offense to, but wondering if any of the mighty orc’s battles had been difficult for him. Of course, now, Leaf was wondering if Hygora shrimp were as tasty as regular shrimp but he wasn’t about to irritate Pâsh with an endless string of frivolous questions.
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