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11 days ago
Current trying to find the "golden ratio" of weed and ozempic to cause my appetite to stack overflow and reactivate the long-dormant photosynthesis gene from that 50% of DNA we share with plants. will update
3 likes
1 mo ago
many people dont know this but a good cue for deadlifting is to bring your chest up and lock your lats for proper spinal stability. this also applies to interacting with gorillas i'm told. testing no—
2 likes
3 mos ago
yeah i work in area 51, it's pretty chill. usually you just get a tweaker roll by on a "spiritual journey" once a month. they tend to go away once you put a few AIM-9s downrange on their flying saucer
2 likes
4 mos ago
man is closest to god after an ice cold beer in the warm shower. his mind and body are freed. next closest is behind the wheel in a scool zone, also with an ice cold beer in hand. study this well.
3 likes
5 mos ago
yeah mom its me can you come pick me up me and the boys were wondering if pulling a potato peeler over tommy's behelit would wake up the little guy in there and it started screaming.. thanks love you

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He held the pouch high above his head, framing his free hand against Cassia's brow in an impenetrable stiffarm until she stopped her usual routine of swiping at the food in front of her. That arm had spent sixteen years as a rock upon which his bow was mounted— it held steady in the face of any attack, just as his nerve.

gib, she said with her golden eyes beneath either side of his palm.

"Not happening." came the stern, level rebuke. She'd tear through half of it in a second, Sieglinde's reassurances or no. One of these days, he'd be able to beat the concept of rationing into her skull, but it probably wasn't today.

As he did so, and as her attempts grew feebler and feebler, the hood slowly canvassed the room, starting at the grumbling half-elf and, eventually, working its way to the job board.

Works. If he can handle his own food, that's less I'm covering for with this tornado in the mix. I just hope she doesn't trick him into "sharing".

For all the massive chip on his shoulder, the manlet had a point once he'd continued— an enterprising Nem had already swiped the Orc slaying posting during their deliberation, and was in the midst of declaring his party. They'd really gotten bogged down with either enabling eachother or making a go at rations before the portions had even been set— the fun truly never ended with these problem children. To add to it, between the lack of information regarding Haesting and its increasing popularity...

Yeah, the thought of bonuses was getting more alluring. A flat rate split amongst multiple groups was edging outside of opportunity cost thresholds that he had hardlined when starting adventuring. It was to go the way of the merchant caravan. In the bin! Into the bin with it, get 'em outta here!

"Mm." he vocalised simply, retrieving his arm from Cass's face and lowering the bag of jerky. "Runt's right: at this rate, it's any port in a storm. We'll grab it and make it work."

He walked forward with calm, swift strides, intent on not being overshot again.

So long as his darks were ready to go, shadows would be just fine. Additionally so if this Monastery was constructed with those nice high columns and archways...

Rafters would be a treat.
We've had magic-based characters before, yeah.
Nah, they're busy with classes.
I really don't think it's that big a deal. Just an opportunity for further character establishment and interaction
Gerard Segremors



"Yes, Gerard Segremors. I'm honored, and glad to hear you're all having a good time." He replied, belatedly inclining his head to the Princess after a nod to Sir Nicomede, acknowledging his name. Were this a different time and place, he'd have mentioned his surprise at being remembered, particularly by the Princess— but he couldn't quite focus on the pleasant feelings of acknowledgement.

"Sorry to say, I'm a bit jumpier," he continued, tossing an apologetic smile towards Rowan Balthier. The blue-haired spearman was infamously patient in battle, enough that even Gerard had heard tell of it, but seemed nonetheless miffed by the air the swordsman had carried into their group. How unfortunate."I was surprised to see you all right in front of me after I made it through the congregation. I'd been meaning to ask Sir Fleuri something, but was forced to give chase once he cut through to Paladin Tyaethe. He's quite fast when he wants to be."

His mind was, naturally, racing as he gave the explanation. There were a few ways he could go about this, and with his information so limited, he didn't want to overstep what he knew when relaying his troubles. In the event he was wrong, it could be potentially catastrophic for everyone involved. There was such a thing as being too careful.

Gillian Reynauld, it seemed, was of like mind. Of those present, he was the one Gerard knew best, though that was saying little. The Living Reliquary had a penchant for dry absurdism to keep the mood light, joking about lighting himself on fire to escape capture and such, but beneath it he had a solid head on his shoulders. The man had an eye for people, in spite of (or perhaps because, thinking about it) his jabs and jests. Gerard saw as much firsthand when he'd consoled and advised Captain Fanilly in the aftermath of the raid. Perhaps it'd be best to follow his pace now. Clearly he was the object of some concern, after all...

"I'll be honest, for a hick like me, the Drider or Nem would be preferable to this," he joked, watching the one he didn't recognize swipe a bottle from the table and saunter off as he did so, happily bumping into a few other guests shoulder-first. "It's a lot simpler swinging my sword at whatever our Captain needs me to than minding my manners and worrying about stumbling straight into the royal family, you know?"

The unnamed woman quite evidently didn't share those concerns. She hadn't seemed nearly so deep in her cups prior. Not when he'd glanced upon her group, at any rate...

Still, be it intentional theatrics or coincidental intoxication, it served to get eyes off of them for the moment— and doubly so once she spotted a tall, armored man out at the edge of the gardens, raucously calling out to a "Sir Gareth". Whether or not that was somebody he recognized in name or form didn't matter at all.

All that mattered was that this was an opening.

"In fact, if I could confide something, ma'am..."

As the clamor tore yet more gazes away from the group, including hopefully the Princess's, Gerard stepped forward and leaned in close to the teenaged leader of their order, speaking in a low, clipped undertone. The Captain needed to know, if nothing else, what he had seen. If the other knights overheard, fine enough— they were all clearly more experienced than he in this field to begin with. They'd know what to do with what he said, so long as he relayed it clearly.

"That man's nerve doesn't rattle for anything. I don't know what by, but he was spooked enough to all but rush to Tyaethe and Jerel. If you can link up with one'a them, he probably passed it on. That's all I've got."

He jerked his head back towards the scene near the gardens and let a wry smirk play on his face as he took a moment to return to his full height and "meet the eyes" of his fellows once more. Fanilly, Rowan, Gillian, Nicomede— he did share a glance with each in turn, yes, but the wide sweep of his amber gaze took in as much of the crowd behind them as it could.

It pained him to twist the embarrassing circumstances of what he could only assume to be a compatriot into something so self-serving, but she'd given him a golden opportunity not only to answer the curiosity of his superior officer, but he could not help but of what he had meant to ask his fellow Reonite in the first place—

"So, seeing as I can't escape my concerns, I seek guidance from my betters. Would you mind if I shadowed you all for a while? You seem to be quite comfortable with the many manners of court. I've much to learn, that's clear enough."

—and it served as a good alibi now that one was needed, when returning to normal speaking volume. While he was of the mind that "technically not lying" was in turn only "technically still alright", it would be a price he'd pay for a reason to stick close. If he couldn't bear it, then he did not deserve to pledge his oath to this Order.

Whatever it takes. If there's one person who I could assume would be endangered, she stands before me in white and gold.

"I mean, I already know to not drink as much as that one, so head start there."
Working on it. Focus has been shot.

EDIT: FINALLY.
Luckily he's fine, some idiot just reversed into him at a red light, no high speed or anything
As stated in the sister ooc to this one, i'm gonna need to be roommate's primary mode of transport for an indeterminate amount of time, might push post back a day or two
hi my roommate got into a car wreck, i’m going to be his ride for the next few days

also i’m pulling my focus together for iron roses
I'm going to guess it was the aforementioned daughter of Phoran Cal
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