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About AngryCacti

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  • Birthday April 16

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    Comic books
    Building/COSTUMES <---- (a.k.a. Why I'm broke)
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    (A long tortured) Student

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    AngryCacti #9918

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  1. 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.
  2. 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?
  3. 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?
  4. 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.
  5. 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?”
  6. Oh tis true tis true. I sell only the finest of products. It’s not a great job, but I need to put my cactus children through college somehow.
  7. Blueberry waffles. The frozen, pre-pagaged kind. 🙂
  8. Ainsworth waited quietly through her explanation, nodded slowly. When she finished, he pushed his unused teacup away from the edge of the table, sighed, and slumped back in the chair. His finger tapped a crescendoing beat on his arm as the silence dragged on. He knew he couldn’t afford to wait the couple months until the roads going east cleared. He also knew this was probably a bad idea. “What kind of secret do you want?” He held up a hand. “I’m not agreeing, I’m just asking a question.” He sat forward again but kept his gaze averted down, choosing his next words carefully. “We both know that a secret is worth a little more than information on the scale of things. Especially in the hands of a magic user.” An understatement. “And I don’t doubt it would be useful for you... along with my middle name and some poor first born child. It’s not your selling that I’m worried about. So, my apologies, but no, it doesn’t- it doesn’t really put my mind at ease.” He trailed off and ran a hand through his hair, hesitant to say more.
  9. I had every intention to reply back to this. Unfortunately, intention did not get anything written and I apologize. I am still on board for this rp and have a character sheet written up. If you plans haven’t changed and you’ll still have me along then I’d like to reaffirm my interest. ?
  10. Cerin stopped short and turned with incredulity displayed across her face as the paragon that had so recently told them to run was now yelling for them to jump into the chasm. Surely Lilith wasn’t desperate enough to send them leaping to their doom like lemmings. She sighed. “Is there any chance everyone else has gone mad?” She asked, not expecting a reply. She knew they were serious. Probably. Despite the clear contradiction to common sense, she felt strangely compelled to do as the commander ordered. Pulling Mercury along, the woman retraced their steps back to the chasm, running faster and faster until she cleared the tree line and and the pit loomed ahead. Her feet hit the edge of the cliff. With no powers to catch her fall, the necromancer would have liked more assurance before jumping into a gorge that was occupied by Cthulhu, but she had little else in the way of choice. She could stay and get crushed or she could wander, powerless around the marsh before being eaten by something hungry. Fuck it. Without stopping, Cerin let her momentum carry her past the edge and into free fall. The air whipped past her face and she fell for what seemed like an eternity. Cerin wondered if all missions with this group would end in falling. Splash. Cerin sank into the water and floundered for a sense of direction. Up and down lost all meaning. At that moment, Cerin felt her dormant power shift under her skin. Information flooded her mind, giving location to the small pockets of decay far below, a large body on the edge of her sense, and something solid to her right. She broke the surface with a gasp and found the other paragons nearby. She swam after the group and reached out her power to the dead mass resting beneath the waves. Old bones stirred on the sea floor as the connection clicked. It would take time for the new undead to reach to nevromancer- time enough to get to shore. Even though her skirts dragged behind her and she could feel her arms beginning to tire, Cerin was a strong enough swimmer to keep a steady pace.
  11. Ainsworth flushed at Enid’s name for him. So this was what she intended by her earlier comment. Now acutely aware of his actions, he made his hands sit still on top of the table and forced a breath. The mage examined the proffered list carefully, going item by item and comparing them to the numbers in his head. To his pleasant suprise, the cost set seemed equivalent for a an average of Genesarin prices- some even conforming to east standard. Shopping for magic in the more isolated and down to earth environment of much of the south sometimes proved a gamble. Of course, he still planned on bargaining down as many items as he could. He paused at the last item. “No... No I don’t mind,” he answered, somewhat distracted. He reread the last item then reread it again. Ainsworth looked closely at Enid as she made her tea. He had heard of people who did business with such intangible intimates as dreams or memories. They were witches or warlocks or fey. They were something Ainsworth had never met in practice before. “A secret?” He asked with an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Ainsworth folded his arms and leaned back into his seat and away from the witch. He didn’t touch the tea. “I don’t deal in things like that. I would think a hagstone would be worth, say, a three-quarter silver?” He gave a wan smile.
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