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AngryCacti

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About AngryCacti

  • Rank
    Aficionado
  • Birthday April 16

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  • Location
    Arizona
  • Interests
    Theatre
    D&D
    Comic books
    Building/COSTUMES <---- (a.k.a. Why I'm broke)
  • Occupation
    (A long tortured) Student

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    AngryCacti #9918

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  1. Not all things need an explanation. Gods, that was all too familiar a phrase. It was always one of the biggest feuds in his marriage. He could never see why his wife wasn’t the least bit curious about her powers and Cerin could never see why it mattered. Not that it mattered now. He could almost feel her berating him from wherever she was, afterlife or not. Ainsworth wasn’t sure why he ended up thinking of Cerin. It was just a shopping trip- granted one that had veered sharply off course- but mundane nonetheless. Perhaps it had been old smugglers instincts setting off warning bells. Perhaps it was the eyes in the shop. Their stares filled with blood and popped in his mind. But that was hardly new. Ainsworth wondered briefly if there had been something in the tea. In any case, though he would have liked to redo the encounter on better terms, it was time to leave. Ainsworth stopped, coinage in hand, halfway through the motion and mirrored Enid’s tilted pose. “Something wrong?” He asked. If Enid didn’t immediately answer, he sets the money on the table and takes a step back. It wouldn’t take long to collect the rest of his purchase. Daylight only last so long and the mage wanted to get a room at an inn before too much longer.
  2. I finally saw Romancing the Stone a few days ago and thoroughly enjoyed it. There was a great balance of action, adventure, and character development that made for an entertaining movie. While it was a little slow at times, the parts that were good were really good (especially for a low-budget 80s movie). I’m taking off points for Michael Douglas’ mullet though. 8/10
  3. Whoops, sorry, Die. I thought you were just opting out of the prep round.
  4. “Down to the pub for a two shilling ale, The bread on the counter is going stale-“ The singing that echoed in the dark room was rough, unsettling, and punctuated by the rhythmic scrape of stone on steel. Tana set the wetstone aside and peered out the small window. The lights of the port city were coming on as the last of the sun dipped below the horizon. Her own lamp burned dimly on the sill. “-If I don't get some fresh bread soon Gonna punch you in your face and bark at the moon.” The thief tested the edge with her thumb and smiled at the thin line of blood it drew. Perfect. Still humming the next few lines of the verse, she set the knife on the pile with the rest and pulled a vile of dark yellow liquid. She coated the inside of the sheaths with it. The room was already full of the poisonous odor despite the open window. It was potent stuff. Tana had enough for five coatings- maybe more if she was strategic. She sheathed every knife methodically and strapped it onto her person. Four at her hip, two in her boots, one on each arm, and one on her thigh. She knew her job. Hamlin had been more than clear. Get the logbook. If she couldn’t get the logbook, she had to ensure no one else would either. To that purpose, there was a supply of matches sewn into her sleeve, and- if that should fail- a small bottle of acid in a pouch at her waist. “Aye aye aye, sharpen your boot, and bludgeon your eye. Aye aye aye, the cornerstone brings a tear to my eye” It was time. The Iron Maiden would be pulling into port soon and the attack would commence soon after. The docks were waiting. Tana quenched the lamp, pulled up her hood, and slipped out the window, blending seamlessly into the night.
  5. Oh shoot, am I? It’s been a while, sorry 😅 I’ll have something posted by the end of tomorrow. Thanks for the reminder
  6. All things considered, Ainsworth recovered from his mistake quickly. With a jolt of unexpected contact, awareness returned to the mage in time for him to pocket the stone along with the last shreds of dignity. The action had been intentional, but what he saw had came as a surprise. It was no secret that, while he was a lot of thing, Ainsworth was not one to stop when it would be convenient for him. He nodded once and fixed his gaze intently onto the pattern of wood grain in the tabletop. “Then I suppose we’re even now.” When Enid had looked through the stone earlier at Ainsworth, the changes revealed were nowhere near as substantial as hers. There was nothing glaring that was hidden under an illusion or disguise. Two extra pockets on his jacket, a faint hum of magic about the pendant around his neck, and a hand full of scars that peeked out from his sleeves and collar. If one looked long enough, they would see that the mage looked younger, his appearance more in line with his true age rather than the more weathered visage he carried. It was subtle enough to be overlooked in the moment. Of course, Ainsworth had been oblivious to her search at the time. Ainsworth cleared his throat. Still maintaining his careful examination of the tabletop, he said, “I can’t say that I’m surprised. The secrets and the, erm... green... give it away. I just didn’t know the- ah-“ he made a vague motion at his face- “extent.“ Hindsight was a marvelous thing. “What I mean to say,” he said, slowing to a more rational pace, “is thank you for your hospitality, Enid. I’ll pay now for the items you have in stock if it won’t be too much trouble.” He stood from the table, practically climbing out of the large armchair. He watched the witch carefully out of the corner of his eye for her reaction. “Is half a gold fair?” He asked, referring to the receipt she gave him.
  7. Either or both! My apologies, I don’t know the various styles of two-handed swords enough to specify. What is your opinion on the topic?
  8. Unless anyone needs Tana for something, I’ll make my next post at the attack 🙂
  9. To his surprise, Ainsworth felt something drop into a pocket of his coat. He mirrored Enid’s search, rummaging through the contents of his jacket until he pulled out a small stone with a hole in middle and returned the witch’s hesitant smile. It had only served to further his surprise when the hagstone had not dropped into one of the more visible pockets, but into a pocket that was hidden in a seam in the coat’s lining. He held it to the light. Same size, same shape, and the same discoloration of quartz ran through the stone. It was his hagstone. “Well, what do you know...” he murmured. His hands continued to turn it over while he spoke. “That’s impressive.” He paused and gave the stone a suspicious glance. “And it will stay in my pocket?” He asked. With a deft twist he dropped it into a large pocket at his side, waited a moment, and drew it out again. “I, ah, just thought it might not be a good idea to have opened up a hypothetical rift between our two pockets.” He laughed, but there was a gleam of seriousness behind the humor. “Actually,” He said, talking more to himself than to Enid, “that’s not a bad idea...” The tea that Ainsworth had prepared was cooled off enough to not burn his tongue when he took a cautious sip. He was by no means a connoisseurs of teas, but even he could appreciate the finery of it. “You have a rich taste in tea.” He said. Though much of the physical tension had not left him, Ainsworth’s voice had lost the terseness after surrendering his secret to the witch. He set his cup down with a soft clink of ceramic and leaned forward. “I mean no disrespect, but are there any other special arrangements needed for anything else I’m looking for?” He was fiddling with the stone again without thinking, running it between his palms and rolling it over his fingers. As he talked he brought it up again to look through; First at the table, then at the room, then, in a moment of etiquette transgression, at Enid herself. He still half expected the hagstone to go through some change- though he knew otherwise.
  10. As someone having a bit of trouble finding time to write for this what is your best advice to get words on the page? Is it better to do a small amount every day or set aside a large chunk of time to do it at once?
  11. https://www.darksword-armory.com/how-sharp-were-medieval-swords/ ^^ this is a good article for discussing how swords and armor evolved together. It’s a bit of a longer read but it may answer a few of your questions. Ultimately, I agree with dvsn. The answer will vary greatly depending on the situation. Armor, skill level, and location will all factor into how more effective one option is over another. Personally, I think getting cut poses a greater danger than getting knocked around. Any HEMA people or anybody with experience with larger swords around to give some input?
  12. Tana smiled. The attempt at placation for a lack of pay was truly admirable. It would be highly unlikely for them to get much of a profit off of the ship’s contents. That wasn’t Tana’s concern, though. She had no doubt her boss would be happy to take up operation in the area. Of course, it would have happened with or without a formal charter. But the attempt was appreciated. Tana rolled her eyes and stood from her chair. She seemed to enjoy the loud pop of her joints as she stretched her arms behind her back. “If you all are just making noise now, I’ll take my leave and let you explain your version of events to Miss Observant and Creative.” She looked Avarice in the eye and smiled an oily smile. “I’ll pass on your promises to my employers. I imagine they’ll be quite happy to follow through with this venture. I’ll be on time tomorrow. Until then...” She paused and gave Gachi a once over and a wink. Tana hadn’t been looking at the knife earlier. “See you around, Gachi.” The thief sauntered away from the group and slipped into the shadows of door. The sounds of the bar below floated up before she pulled the door shut with a soft click.
  13. He blinked. “It was a sudden shift from a trusting greeting,” he said, “but I am sorry nonetheless.” He retrieved the stone from its last location and placed it on the table so it sat as a centerpiece to the conversation. To think that such a little thing could have such a cost, dramatic or not. Delusions of grandeur was an appropriate turn of phrase for a rock with a hole in it. His fingers drummed a frenetic dance on his arm. What was the worse that could happen if he gave the witch a secret? The last of his resolve began to crumble before his necessity. Whatever reservations he still harbored would have to be set aside. “Alright.” He leaned forward and began preparing his own cup of tea, picking from the same tin of tea leaves. His eyes looked up for the first time and met Enid’s. While hers searched, his just looked tired. “Let’s get this over with. It’s not negative or positive and it’s not a “personal truth”, but it’s the best secret I feel like giving this.” He frowned and picked up the stone, turning it between his fingers. “It’s not hard to get things into Reyer City Prison.” He began. “What is difficult is getting things- or people- out again. If you go north-east of the city limits you’ll find a cluster of boulders in a wooded area. One of the smaller ones will have a symbol scratched onto it. It looks like this-“ Ainsworth reached under his jacket and pulled out a necklace. A small, finely carved, stone pendant of a bird in flight dangled from a cord. He held it out long enough for Enid to look before letting it drop. “With some magic, you can get underneath the rock and then it’s about a mile of crawling though a tunnel until you come up in a false bottom cellar in the city. No bribes needed, but you need a magic user to be able to use each entrance. It was a pretty well kept secret when I was last there.” Ainsworth looked down again and set the hagstone back on the table. He felt no change in the stone— though he was unsure of what change, if any, was supposed to happen— to signify a new ownership. It yielded no outward signs of change, nor did he himself feel any different. “Did anything...“ He asked slowly, “was something supposed to- I mean, is it done?”
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