“...And it’s a simple trick, the assistant goes into a box, abracadabra, some more nonsense words, spin the box ‘round, open it up, and poof, no more assistant. But this rehearsal I go to open that damn box, and out pops a clown with a hatchet. Every bit of air leaves my lungs with a scream that even made me think I was a six-year-old girl. Took a long while ‘for they quit callin’ me Wynona. Never start a prank war with a clown. Always a bad idea.”
It was a time-honored tradition; drivers offering rides, and hitchhikers providing conversation and entertainment to keep long stretches of highway from growing dull and lonely. Wyatt held up his end of the bargain even as the stories he was willing to share began to dwindle. He was careful not to mention Eleanor, it only made him sound crazy, and crazy hitchhikers got left on the side of the road. Too much swampland inhabited by gators and mosquitos around here for that. So he kept the conversation light.
He’d had gotten picked up, thumbing his way through Austin, by an older fella with a damn near immaculate old Cadillac. Unscathed black paint, an engine that purred something beautiful, and not a trace of dust on the interior; it was clear this car was loved. The only flaw, and it stood out even more against the caddy’s perfection, was the busted AC. Earl, the driver, seemed unbothered by the car’s singular flaw, the older man hadn't broken a sweat despite the unrelenting heat of the south. Earl was headed to New Orleans and Quintin, more or less, lay along the way.
Wyatt, on the other hand, found his shirt clinging to his skin and the crisp leather seat with sweat acting as the adhesive. That hot swamp air that blew in through the rolled-down windows offered little relief. It felt more like the bayou was belching on them than anything close to refreshing. He didn’t complain about it, a free ride was a free ride, and everything else was close enough to perfect. Earl was good company, an easy-going Southerner who loved three things; his car, trading stories, and the blues.
The conversation grew to a natural lull as the sounds of old-timey bluesmen flowed seamlessly into the humid air. One man howled out deep pain in a way that rattled bones. Another sang of heartache that spread out like a fog as that lonely feeling of the void a person can leave seeped out with every chord. The next song featured a harmonica that shrieked in agony, its cry cutting through the thick swamp air. As long as the stereo was singing, the oppressive heat and ominous views of swamplands just felt the right atmosphere for it all.
A sign in the distance read ‘Welcome to Quintin’.
Earl let out a disapproving grunt at the sign.
“Death don't have no mercy in this land,” a voice sang through the speakers. And then it just kept repeating that line, like the CD was skipping in a way that was just downright creepy. Earl frowned, turned the stereo off and on again and it played on.
“You sure you wanna be here? This place doesn’t sit right.” Earl spoke up.
“Nowhere else I need to be.” Wyatt shrugged, he’d gotten this far, and endless stretches of swamp and a worn old CD weren’t going to scare him off.
“Plenty of other places to be. Why this one?” It would’ve been a fair point if Wyatt was just out looking for another fresh start.
“Looking for answers and this place might have ‘em. Lost track of friend from down here.”
“Must’ve been some friend,” Earl commented but he didn’t say anything further about Quintin.
The car pulled to a stop, Wyatt tanked the driver, grabbed his duffle bag, and walked towards the Webb family coffee shop. He noticed that Earl didn’t keep driving through the town, but instead threw a quick U-turn and drove right back out of town. Quintin, it seemed, had spooked the man enough that even a short drive through a small town was out of the question. Strange, but so was everything that led to coming down to Quintin, so he shrugged that off too.
There was an unusual amount of crows lingering in front of the small coffee shop. Wyatt thought about the old rhyme, ‘one crow sorrow, two crows joy,’ and wondered what a few dozen of the birds brought as he passed them. He spotted the large group already seated within the otherwise uncrowded coffee house from the large windows. Was he late? A pair who looked out of place in a small swamp town, about as out of place as him, were on their way out as he was walking in. Definitely late, but Quintin wasn’t an easy place to get to. He headed over to the crowded table.
“This the ‘I lost my Eleanor Black’ meet-up?” He asked, knowing damn well it was and took a moment to look around the group. “Huh, would ya look at that, someone’s already got clues, impressive.” He looked at the marked-up map in front of a blonde and nodded. Spending all day in a car didn’t leave him wanting to sit down again, but everyone else was so he pulled a free chair closer to the table. The chair legs screeched across the floor for a moment and he tossed his bag next to it and sat down.
“It’s like a free sauna out there and in here.” He tugged at the front of his shirt as if any amount of airflow would help. “Anyway, I’m Wyatt, met an Eleanor Black working the circus, and like a magic trick gone wrong she disappeared without a trace.” He offered up the short version unprompted before quieting down.
Now I think he’s cool but my issue is with his backstory… in your psychology you just start at the part where he joins the circus but you never explain why. or any of his backstory before then. You mention in his psychology that he accidentally killed his father as a kid but never go into detail about something important that.
Also are you on discord?
Gottcha, I did leave it too vague. Added more detail to the backstory and the changes are in white with the rest in gray. Hope that's better. I am on discord.
"You know that cliche about kids running off to join the circus, that’s me, I’m the cliche."
_______________________________________________ Wyatt Anderson He/Him | 30 | White | 5’10 | 165lbs _______________________________________________ Showman ___________________________________
Skills & Talents "Full of mostly useless talents." ___________________________________
[Magician] ⫻ Wyatt could probably do most card and coin tricks in his sleep. Adept at sleight of hand, misdirection, and most importantly, keeping people entertained and distracted.
[Circus Preformer] ⫻ His job, which has been more or less his whole life for most of his life has instilled a few eccentric skills. In addition to magic; juggling, juggling while riding a unicycle, juggling things that are on fire, and various fire-related tricks are all things he’s comfortable performing.
[Optomist] ⫻ He can look at most things and find something good there to focus on.
[Fit] ⫻ His hobbies keep him active, his job keeps him active, and budding up with the strongman didn’t hurt either.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I bet I know what you're thinking, that's a mighty fine mustache. Am I right?"
Never one to want to blend in, Wyatt takes pride in the features that make him stand out. His fiery hair for one. Way back when folks used to say he had his mother’s hair, and if that’s all she saw fit to leave him with, at least it was something nice. He takes even more pride in his well-maintained facial hair, it all helps draw attention and that’s exactly what a performer wants. He's 5’10 with a muscular build, not only from spending a good deal of time lugging around heavy objects but his choice of workout buddy is the circus’s strongman. Wyatt loves a challenge, even one he knows he could never compete with.
As for his skin, there's a dusting of freckles on his face, and a tan rather than a sunburn tends to elude him. Wyatt’s got tattoos on the neck, arms, and chest, all of varying degrees of shoddy quality. They don’t really have meaning, he just likes letting amateurs use him as a sketch pad. He’s got scars here and there, more small scars than stories for them, but you don’t make a living playing with fire without a few. A burn near his wrist, a larger one on his shoulder, but nothing too bad. As far as clothing goes whatever he can get that’s cheap, comfortable, and casual is his preference.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I like to think I made the best out of what I got."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Find answers to the whole Eleanor conspiracy and once all that is settled, maybe try and go back to the way life was before she vanished. Wyatt isn’t one for big long-term goals, that’s too much structure for him.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻“The point of living is to just go out there and do whatever makes you happy. That and the future’s always a day away, the past is always behind you, so the only thing that matters is right now. Oh and never trust the government or the cops, they’re always up to something.”
SECRETS ⫻ The one thing Wyatt seldom talks about is his dad. His dad was drunk, who left the gas stove running all day, woke up from being passed out, lit up a cigarette, and BOOM, no more old man. That’s the official story, except it was Wyatt who left that stove on and went out to play with friends. It wasn’t intentional, he was a forgetful kid, but that doesn’t stop the guilt.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Hetero
FEARS ⫻ Losing people he’s close to, being left by people who are supposed to stick around, and letting people down.
WHO IS ELEANOR BLACK TO YOU? ⫻ Buisness partner and good friend.
FLAWS ⫻ Wyatt’s just the classic overly cocky, naturally impulsive, often annoyingly talkative, people pleaser who believes that being fun and exciting is what will make people like him.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I remember my mom taking me to the circus once when I was real little. The air smelled like corndogs and popcorn. Everything was so colorful and exciting. And there I was just tugging on her hand, desperate to see it all. And I remember it being windy and her red hair was blowing all around. But I don’t remember her face, or much else about her anymore. It was a really good day though, went a long stretch without days that good and that memory kept me goin'.”
That’s the only memory he has of his mother, just a fading presence and a guiding hand on a real good day. She left not long after that, then it was just him and his dad bouncing around through various small towns in Flordia. His dad had trouble keeping work, trouble putting the bottle down, and most days, trouble just getting off the couch.
His dad was never a mean drunk, just someone who’d checked out long ago. Heart still beating, lungs still drawing in breath, but no longer living. Just a hollowed-out husk that had once been a person. Watching someone carry on like that made it difficult to hold onto any resentment over his mother leaving and it only made him feel sorry for his dad. So Wyatt just helped out around the house as much as he could and tried not to bother his dad too much. He figured out how to fend for himself, he’d ingratiate himself with the neighbors; old folks always liked someone willing to do yard work for cheap and other kids usually liked someone willing to do anything so long as it was phrased as a dare. People seemed to like a hard-working daredevil so that’s what he became.
Then the accident happened. He was making lunch, classic mac n cheese from the box, on a lazy summer day. There was a knock at the door in the kitchen followed by the voice of a friend inviting him to come and check out his new trampoline. He just got so excited, he hadn’t even added the cheese packet, just tossed the pot to the other side of the stove and ran out the door. He couldn’t miss out on being one of the first in the neighborhood to try out the trampoline. He could just clean it up later. So he was gone most of the day, after that they’d all gone fishing. By the time he was heading home, it was dark, he saw a fire truck go by and a few moments later he saw that truck in front of his house. There was his whole life up in flames. He’d never been academically gifted but he was quick to add two and two together there and it added up to all his fault.
So he hid, wasn’t like he was going home now. Spent that night in a friend’s treehouse and the next day he heard the full story. So now people were looking for him and he knew he was going to be in so much trouble and he couldn’t stick around for that. Wyatt followed the tracks to the train yard and hopped his way out of town. He hated it, the long stretches with nothing to do but get lost in his thoughts; the what-ifs, and the guilt. He could just kind of feel it; his life flickering out and Wyatt knew how that went, what it looked like to just be a husk that wasn’t quite alive.
When he saw a big billboard advertising a nearby circus, that’s where he went. That was his happiest memory, being five years old at the circus with his mom, and he just wanted to feel that good again. But they weren’t open yet, just setting up and Wyatt just started helping out, kept just acting like he belonged there and no one wanted to kick out a thirteen-year-old kid who had nowhere else to go. So he kept on helping out, traveled with them, learning whatever they were willing to teach him, and they kept on letting him stay. The circus was the perfect place for a fresh start, the work made it easy to forget the past, and he was never alone.
The way Wyatt likes to tell it, his life started the day he joined the circus. Clowns became his wacky uncles, the fortune teller his wise old grandma, his cousins were all acrobats and jugglers and there was never a dull moment. It was grunt work at first, manning food stands and ticket booths, using every bit of his free time to learn a few talents until he could perform. There was nothing like it, to have crowds of people cheering him on, to have a family that was this close, to never have too much quiet time to dwell on the past. Just always felt like the circus was where he belonged.
Elenanor Black was just another stray they picked up on the road. Wyatt showed her the ropes, and they got along well and became good friends over the next few years. When the old magician retired, it was Eleanor that pushed him to set up his act and take the guy’s place. Eleanor was the brains behind most of his best tricks, the real big showstoppers. She was his business partner, the plant in the audience, the one who triple-checked everything for safety. Everything was going better than he could've ever hoped for.
And then one day she was gone. In her place was someone else and everyone acted like Eleanor Black never even existed. At first, he thought it was a weird joke. How could a circus full of people forget someone who’d traveled with them for almost five years? That would be crazy. So he waited around for the big reveal, ready for a good laugh, but it never came. And the next day Eleanor didn’t show up for rehearsals, “and there was no goddamn way I was doing bullet catcher with a stranger.” So it wasn’t a prank.
Then Wyatt got fired because he refused to pretend that the new girl was Eleanor. No one wanted to work with the crazy guy who kept ranting about someone who didn’t exist. The not knowing just consumed him. He looked for any trace and it was like she’d never existed. And then no one wanted to work with the crazy guy ranting about “CIA black ops MK-ultra shit’s going down, they’re not just making people disappear, it’s like they never existed in the first place. They are out here wiping people’s minds! Or maybe it’s aliens…” No other circus kept him on for more than a few shows and he couldn't keep his focus on performing anyhow. He had to go get a normie job at a dive bar. He knew he sounded crazy, he felt crazy, but he had to know, had to find someone who believed him.
Endless internet searches turned up stories of other people missing an Eleanor Black. All over the world women named Eleanor Black were disappearing. None of it made sense but it all added up to a weird conspiracy that needed unraveling. If others were working on it, he was damn sure going to help. Eleanor was a friend, she was like family, and he won’t be the sort of person who just gives up on family. So off to the Swampland.
Paranormal-Abilities ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Magic, pretty much know that bag o’ tricks like the back of my hand. Wait, you mean like real magic? Guess anything’s possible, world’s a strange place, but tell me what you saw and I bet I can figure out the trick there."
Blind, and while he’s not naturally skeptical about much, he knows enough about performance magic to believe it’s all about smoke and mirrors.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and prepare to witness an awesome spectacle that will make you question the very fabric of reality. I am Antares the Astonding. Here to entertain, captivate, and, most of all, mystify. A quick warning for those in front rows, this show brings the heat!"
"You know that cliche about kids running off to join the circus, that’s me, I’m the cliche."
_______________________________________________ Wyatt Anderson He/Him | 30 | White | 5’10 | 165lbs _______________________________________________ Showman ___________________________________
Skills & Talents "Full of mostly useless talents." ___________________________________
[Magician] ⫻ Wyatt could probably do most card and coin tricks in his sleep. Adept at sleight of hand, misdirection, and most importantly, keeping people entertained and distracted.
[Circus Preformer] ⫻ His job, which has been more or less his whole life for most of his life has instilled a few eccentric skills. In addition to magic; juggling, juggling while riding a unicycle, juggling things that are on fire, and various fire-related tricks are all things he’s comfortable performing.
[Optomist] ⫻ He can look at most things and find something good there to focus on.
[Fit] ⫻ His hobbies keep him active, his job keeps him active, and budding up with the strongman didn’t hurt either.
Appearance ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I bet I know what you're thinking, that's a mighty fine mustache. Am I right?"
Never one to want to blend in, Wyatt takes pride in the features that make him stand out. His fiery hair for one. Way back when folks used to say he had his mother’s hair, and if that’s all she saw fit to leave him with, at least it was something nice. He takes even more pride in his well-maintained facial hair, it all helps draw attention and that’s exactly what a performer wants. He's 5’10 with a muscular build, not only from spending a good deal of time lugging around heavy objects but his choice of workout buddy is the circus’s strongman. Wyatt loves a challenge, even one he knows he could never compete with.
As for his skin, there's a dusting of freckles on his face, and a tan rather than a sunburn tends to elude him. Wyatt’s got tattoos on the neck, arms, and chest, all of varying degrees of shoddy quality. They don’t really have meaning, he just likes letting amateurs use him as a sketch pad. He’s got scars here and there, more small scars than stories for them, but you don’t make a living playing with fire without a few. A burn near his wrist, a larger one on his shoulder, but nothing too bad. As far as clothing goes whatever he can get that’s cheap, comfortable, and casual is his preference.
Psychology ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I like to think I made the best out of what I got."
MAIN GOAL ⫻ Find answers to the whole Eleanor conspiracy and once all that is settled, maybe try and go back to the way life was before she vanished. Wyatt isn’t one for big long-term goals, that’s too much structure for him.
PHILOSOPHY ⫻“The point of living is to just go out there and do whatever makes you happy. That and the future’s always a day away, the past is always behind you, so the only thing that matters is right now. Oh and never trust the government or the cops, they’re always up to something.”
SECRETS ⫻ The one thing Wyatt seldom talks about is his dad. His dad was drunk, who left the gas stove running all day, woke up from being passed out, lit up a cigarette, and BOOM, no more old man. That’s the official story, except it was Wyatt who left that stove on and went out to play with friends. It wasn’t intentional, he was a forgetful kid, but that doesn’t stop the guilt.
SEXUALITY ⫻ Hetero
FEARS ⫻ Losing people he’s close to, being left by people who are supposed to stick around, and letting people down.
WHO IS ELEANOR BLACK TO YOU? ⫻ Buisness partner and good friend.
FLAWS ⫻ Wyatt’s just the classic overly cocky, naturally impulsive, often annoyingly talkative, people pleaser who believes that being fun and exciting is what will make people like him.
Backstory ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "I remember my mom taking me to the circus once when I was real little. The air smelled like corndogs and popcorn. Everything was so colorful and exciting. And there I was just tugging on her hand, desperate to see it all. And I remember it being windy and her red hair was blowing all around. But I don’t remember her face, or much else about her anymore. It was a really good day though, went a long stretch without days that good and that memory kept me goin'.”
That’s the only memory he has of his mother, just a fading presence and a guiding hand on a real good day. She left not long after that, then it was just him and his dad bouncing around through various small towns in Flordia. His dad had trouble keeping work, trouble putting the bottle down, and most days, trouble just getting off the couch. So Wyatt learned how to fend for himself, made friends with whatever neighbors he could, and as long as people liked him, people helped him. Everything more or less worked out, until the accident. Then he was on his own for a while.
There he was doing what he’d always done, bouncing around from place to place trying to figure things out because there was no way he was ending up in some group home situation. It wasn’t long before he snuck into a traveling circus while they were setting up. Wyatt just started helping out, kept just acting like he belonged there and no one wanted to kick out a thirteen-year-old kid who had nowhere to go. So he kept on helping out, learning whatever they were willing to teach him, and they kept on letting him stay.
The way Wyatt likes to tell it, his life started the day he joined the circus. Clowns became his wacky uncles, the fortune teller his wise old grandma, his cousins were all acrobats and jugglers and there was never a dull moment. It was grunt work at first, manning food stands and ticket booths, using every bit of his free time to learn a few talents until he could perform. There was nothing like it, to have crowds of people cheering him on, to have a family that was this close, to never have too much quiet time to dwell on the past. Just always felt like the circus was where he belonged.
Elenanor Black was just another stray they picked up on the road. Wyatt showed her the ropes, and they got along well and became good friends over the next few years. When the old magician retired, it was Eleanor that pushed him to set up his act and take the guy’s place. Eleanor was the brains behind most of his best tricks, the real big showstoppers. She was his business partner, the plant in the audience, the one who triple-checked everything for safety. Everything was going better than he could've ever hoped for.
And then one day she was gone. In her place was someone else and everyone acted like Eleanor Black never even existed. At first, he thought it was a weird joke. How could a circus full of people forget someone who’d traveled with them for almost five years? That would be crazy. So he waited around for the big reveal, ready for a good laugh, but it never came. And the next day Eleanor didn’t show up for rehearsals, “and there was no goddamn way I was doing bullet catcher with a stranger.” So it wasn’t a prank.
Then Wyatt got fired because he refused to pretend that the new girl was Eleanor. No one wanted to work with the crazy guy who kept ranting about someone who didn’t exist. The not knowing just consumed him. He looked for any trace and it was like she’d never existed. And then no one wanted to work with the crazy guy ranting about “CIA black ops MK-ultra shit’s going down, they’re not just making people disappear, it’s like they never existed in the first place. They are out here wiping people’s minds! Or maybe it’s aliens…” No other circus kept him on for more than a few shows and he couldn't keep his focus on performing anyhow. He had to go get a normie job at a dive bar. He knew he sounded crazy, he felt crazy, but he had to know, had to find someone who believed him.
Endless internet searches turned up stories of other people missing an Eleanor Black. All over the world women named Eleanor Black were disappearing. None of it made sense but it all added up to a weird conspiracy that needed unraveling. If others were working on it, he was damn sure going to help. Eleanor was a friend, she was like family, and he won’t be the sort of person who just gives up on family. So off to the Swampland.
Paranormal-Abilities ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Magic, pretty much know that bag o’ tricks like the back of my hand. Wait, you mean like real magic? Guess anything’s possible, world’s a strange place, but tell me what you saw and I bet I can figure out the trick there."
Blind, and while he’s not naturally skeptical about much, he knows enough about performance magic to believe it’s all about smoke and mirrors.
Other ▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔ "Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, and prepare to witness an awesome spectacle that will make you question the very fabric of reality. I am Antares the Astonding. Here to entertain, captivate, and, most of all, mystify. A quick warning for those in front rows, this show brings the heat!"
Time: Morning’s are for rescuing Malachi! Location: River Port; Malachi’s mom’s house Interactions: Malachi@princess, Jun@JJ Doe, Enstille@GingerBobOh, Kenia@Tae Equipment: A halberd, (always with him) hunting knife, and half-plate armor (left in the room).
Zion smiled wide as Kenia confirmed his guess. “A lion knows a skilled huntress when he sees one. Your grace is cat-like and that is a compliment I rarely give.” Her swiftness in offering to help, despite Malachi's earlier rudeness, told Zion that Kenia also possessed a kind and courageous heart, willing to run towards danger to help another. He was confident that their group needed someone like her and he’d just have to convince Malachi of the same.
“Jun, Malachi has made it his mission to keep you safe, would you really leave him to fend for himself if danger arises? He is part of this pride, he has selflessly taken on the burden of leading, and he gets up early to make breakfast because he cares about all of us. Malachi has earned better than this.” Zion tried his best not to sound condescending as he addressed the human, but Jun’s lack of concern for Malachi disturbed the young lion. Surely if he put the situation in the appropriate context the human would understand. Most of the rest of what Jun said was just a confusing jumble of words to the lion. Mages? Rogues? Switching roles? Surely Kenia was no assassin, such an accusation was just rude. What on Avalia was the human on about? Who was targeting Enstille?
“Excellent planning Jun." He declared even without understanding much beyond 'stick together'. He was just happy to see Jun participating. “We will all go and help Malachi, I do not believe it is normal for him to run away like this, with breakfast left uneaten. And if he doesn't need help, we can all enjoy some post-breakfast exercise!” He clapped his hands with excitement, taking Jun’s words of advice as an agreement to help. He grabbed his halberd from where it perched against a wall ready for whatever was happening in the woods.
Time: Morning Location: Papa Edin’s big important tea party! Interactions: Mina @Tae, Alexander @FunnyGuy
Special brandy? Callum was immediately interested, and clearly, he had to know what exactly made Kolonivka’s brandy better than the rest. “Kolonivka's special brandy? It would be in poor taste to turn down such a thoughtful gift. I wouldn’t want to offend our northern allies.” He sincerely hoped that a sampling of brandy was in his near future, it would be nice to mix up his choice of spirit and be able to call it cultural appreciation should anyone question it.
But speaking of spirits he found himself confused as Mina kept using that word like it was a coded message. Did they have a shared history that he just didn’t remember? Possible. Was she at all those parties he had no memory of? He really couldn’t be sure of that. Even parties that other people easily remembered were ones Cal found washed away from his mind by alcohol. So he just nodded with a blank smile until she offered her support for his charity project. A deep exhale gave way to a wide grin as some of the anxiety lifted. A ‘yes’ from the first person he’d asked, and Wulfric had acted like this would be difficult.
“Excellent, thank you, Mina, you have no idea how good it is to hear that. Too many nobles here have little interest in those without fancy titles on their names.” He smiled at Mina, all his misgivings vanished and he was simply thankful to have someone new support him.
“It's men like us that the others want to doom. The freethinkers. The men that wish to see their country flourish by the sight of all its people, not just the wealthy.”
Callum brightened at Alexander’s words, now entirely comfortable with the both of them. His head bobbed enthusiastically in agreement with the man who, with a single statement, cleansed himself of any resemblance to Edin. His hope momentarily faltered as Alexander seemed to decline his offer, only for him to announce that he would not be supporting the project on his own, but through the Black Rose Trading Company. Wasn’t that Marek’s company?
As Alexander made his public announcement, Callum turned in Wulfric’s direction, smile wide and taunting as he gave his brother a thumbs up. Not only was he doing almost exactly what his brother had asked of him, but in a way that just had to be aggravating to his brother. Accidental perfection and Cal couldn’t be more pleased with how this was all going. It was now clear that Alexander was the perfect choice, his vision matched Callum’s, and Alexander had both ideas and a way with words.
“Wonderful suggestion, a silent auction, brilliant. Sir, I am not only grateful for this, but if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” Callum spoke once Alexander had finished speaking, and he meant it, if Alexander worked with Marek, he too could be trusted. “Alexander Deacon, a beacon of light in a world growing darker, I have little doubt that is how people will think of you.”
Time: Morning Location: Papa Edin’s big important tea party! Interactions: Mina @Tae, Alexander @FunnyGuy
Callum bowed in return and once his hands were freed from holding plates of cake, he pulled a flask from his jacket pocket and drank from it as Mina talked him up. He’d never really talked to Mina much, mostly because he avoided talking to people he didn’t know very well and thus didn’t know very many people at all. So he wondered if he had still managed to give Mina a good impression or if she was just being nice out of obligation.
“Oh, Mina, you’re too kind, I don’t know if you heard but it sounds like my partying days are done. I’ve sworn off the booze.” He said, not looking back at Edin but gesturing toward the man with his head and wearing a grin that revealed that such a thing was absolutely absurd. He took another drink from the flask. “An unfortunate predicament since nothing pairs better with cake than whiskey.” He offered up the flask with a shake in case either of them wanted some.
“And wonderful to meet you, Dr. Deacon, but I think Mina here over-exaggerates; it is my sister who is the life and beating heart of every good party, and I, its disgruntled liver.” Callum smiled more at his own joke before he turned his head and offered a smile and wave toward Mrs. Deacon as Alexander pointed out his wife.
He then looked back at Alexander with pause; wondering why the man’s wife was alone while Alexander chatted with, in a way that looked like flirting with, Mina. It only made Callum think about how Edin would have his concubines fawn all over him while Alibeth just stood there, watching, not saying a thing about the lack of loyalty. Callum momentarily asked himself if he even wanted dealings with nobles who so quickly reminded him of Edin.
“You look like a well-dressed man with a charitable heart.” Callum focused on the goal, he needed to be someone who got things done, and how it happened, and who he dealt with, didn’t need to matter. Deacon had money, Callum could lie, and those two things could add up to more people in Sorian getting to eat. “I can think of no better way for you to properly introduce yourself to the people of Sorian than by letting those qualities shine through. Your support for an ambitious charity project would certainly make that happen.” He broached the offer to Deacon.
“And you as well Mina, though I’m sure people many kingdoms over know of your kind heart, I hear the Blackwoods have always treated their people well.” The insinuation that this was not the norm for the rest of nobility, was left unsaid. “I’d be thankful for the support.” He glanced over to wear Wulfric was, wondering if his brother could see him doing just fine handling this on his own. Cal almost wished Wulfy was here for this conversation, so he could hear just how much people liked someone who knew how to have actual fun at a party.
Time: Breakfast time! Location: River Port; Malachi’s mom’s house Interactions: Malachi@princess, Jun@JJ Doe, Enstille@GingerBobOh, Kenia@Tae Equipment: A halberd, (always with him) hunting knife, and half-plate armor (left in the room).
“I have not yet tried the cheesy tuna sandwich. Perhaps we can all go there for lunch!” Zion wasted no time in shoveling bite after bite of cold eggs into his mouth, and though he talked as he ate, he was careful enough not to let a morsel escape his active maw. It helped that he rarely chewed at the eggs. Table manners were not a consideration to the near wild catfolk he hailed from, and he often forgot Malachi’s frequent instance of eating with his mouth closed. Especially when he was excited and talking about food, while eating food, made him happier than a cat napping in a sun patch.
“You are an adventurer as well!” Zion’s excitement continued to build, his tail swished as fur bristled. “Yes, I can see it.” His fist slammed onto the table with enthusiasm and the dishes on the table rattled. “Or rather hear the lack of it, Kenia you walk with near-silent footsteps and I have excellent ears. Stealth is your game is it not?” He asked, further studying the way the elf carried herself. She was small, like Jun, but clearly better muscled and so the lion decided Kenia might make for an excellent teacher for the human. Jun had certainly spent all week trying to improve his stealthiness.
And it was just as Zion was thinking of the human, and loudly chowing down on bacon and breakfast sausage, that human returned. Without Malachi, who apparently had run off into the woods. Zion set the plate he was holding back down and watched Jun, his ears flattened some in mild distress.
They weren’t supposed to leave the human unsupervised. But Malachi had run away from Jun leaving the human alone. Why would he do that if it wasn’t an emergency? But Jun didn’t seem concerned. The lion's brow furrowed. Why would Malachi run in the opposite direction of breakfast? Did the elf want to get in some cardio before eating?
“Why did Malachi run into the woods?” He asked Jun. “And why would you let him go alone?” Even under the best circumstances the woods held dangerous creatures that could attack with very little warning. If Malachi had gone for a run, Zion decided it was best for him to join the elf unless Jun offered a good reason for Malachi to have gone off alone.
Time: Morning Location: Forest; Near Gaurav Village Interactions: Viola@13org, Phia@princess, Darius@FunnyGuy, Dante@Alivefalling, Menzai@samreaper Equipment: A pack with some supplies, seeds (in his pockets), a small knife, a mask that hangs from his belt, a weapon with a shifting charm that is either a sickle or a glaive, and a shield/drum with an unbreakable charm.
“Maybe, but we will explain that we are family and that our intentions are not to hurt Phia, only to make sure she is happy and to get to know her again as long she wants that as well. If he cares enough to sacrifice himself for her, he cares enough not to stand in the way of that.” Cyrus organized his thoughts aloud to his sister. The now one-armed wolf clearly cared deeply for Phia, and the rest of his pack seemed to as well, so he couldn’t imagine they would want her to believe her whole family was gone or to actively work to keep her away from them.
“Are you alright with us accompanying them to their village? I am sure Phia will return there when she is finished speaking with her friend.” Cyrus asked Viola as he watched Phia head off to speak with Menzai. So long as Viola was still comfortable venturing into the village after the unprovoked threats from the wolves, he would follow them to the village as well.
As the man Darius introduced himself, Cyrus did the same; the fairy placed a hand over his heart and bowed respectfully. “Cyrus. A pleasure to meet you Darius, and Dante as well. You both fought well, with ingenuity. We thank you for your help.” He complimented the pair but said nothing about their strange abilities. It made sense that the two were brothers, the way they argued with each other while clearly caring deeply showed their relationship without words.
“Would like help?” He asked as Darius supported the exhausted Dante. If Darius accepted, Cyrus would help support Dante as they walked back to the village of the wolves.
Time: Morning Location: Roshmi City Interactions: Rue@Potter, Bardulf@Lava Alckon, Bridgette@Tae, Mister Luum@FunnyGuy, and Zeva@Pink Khione Equipment:Sword, hunting knife, a backpack with supplies, and a stoat named Raze who naps in the pocket of his vest.
“If you do not wish for us to separate, then we will not.” Bowyn spoke softly to Rue and had only nodded his agreement at the extra attention the pegasus might draw. “We’ll just have to keep ourselves well hidden here. No magic, avoid talking to anyone unless necessary.” He whispered back to Rue. A couple of winter fairies, this far south, could draw too many looks, and without wings, it was a little easier for Bowyn to hide what he was than Rue.
“My main concern is that Zeva will turn us all over to the dark elves if given the chance, and I do not trust Luum to do everything in his power to prevent that.” Bowyn now spoke loudly enough that Zeva and Luum would have no trouble hearing. “And I also wonder how much we can trust a man who cannot even locate his staff to keep proper eyes on Bardulf.” He added, looking from Rue over Mister Luum directly as he spoke. Bowyn had no trouble voicing his distrust, it was a quality he credited with keeping himself alive after all.
“So, Bardulf, can I trust you to silence Zeva, permanently, if you suspect her of any attempt to collude with our enemies?” Bowyn addressed the human, trusting the man’s word on the matter. Bardulf had earned that trust through his willingness to work hard towards their goal, without much complaint, from the moment he’d been summoned to Avalia. If Bardulf was comfortable with the argument Luum had suggested, then Bowyn had no further argument over it. “You can think it over, let us know after lunch.” He added, gesturing to himself and to Rue, making it clear that neither he nor Rue would be leaving the human’s side if Bardulf was in any way uncomfortable with it. Bardulf’s life hung just as, if not more, perilously as Rue’s or Bowyn’s should either elf let them down.
“I bet that bakery has honey toast.” He turned his attention back to Rue, figuring the mention of a favored food would relieve some of the stress of being in such a crowded city. He then reached into his pocket to rouse the stoat he assumed was sleeping there only to find his pocket now empty.
“Raze? He called the stoat’s name, slightly confused. “Food time! He spoke the other word the stoat knew better than his own name, assuming wherever the mischievous creature had wound up, he’d come running for food.
The stoat’s head popped up out of the bag Zeva carried, his cheeks full and puffy as he fervently chewed at whatever was in his mouth in an attempt to hide the evidence. A pair of beady eye’s looked innocently from Bowyn to Rue as Raze continued his chewing. Raze licked his mouth and front paws once his mouth was again empty. “Food?” The stoat repeated the word with unmatchable enthusiasm. “Food, where?”
“You just ate.” Bowyn accused the not quite a pet.
“No.” Raze insisted. Then the stoat’s head disappeared back into Zeva’s bag only to pop back up a moment later with an ama between his teeth. “Found shinies!” Raze insisted as if he was doing something helpful rather than stealing mouthfuls of rations.
“Well look at that Rue, we’re rich now, he’s got a whole ama for us.” Bowyn added kleptomaniac stoat to his list of things that could possibly cause trouble for them in Roshmi City.
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