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Vlamymn

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About Vlamymn

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    Stomping on farmhouses, swallowing livestock whole, defying OSHA regulations.

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  1. "The practice of healing always seemed to me like a complicated relationship; it feels like a union between what you know to be true and what you've merely heard from your peers which you accepted to be true no matter your opinion on them. There's always a plurality of opposing thoughts and feelings and opinions in this practice, but more often than not there's a conclusive truth decided upon by those who know what must be true themselves. Then due to their wisdom, their age, or their pockets, all the rest of us come to accept that particular gospel as our own too. I fear it's sometimes just as dangerous as if they never told us their ways at all, especially when they claim that something is beyond curing." "... if that makes sense to you." Jayla punctuated her thoughts with an awkward, embarrassed smile. It wasn't typically within her to wax poetics about these subjects. Not when she knew less than either hypothetical party invented for the sake of argument, and not when she ordinarily followed the widely acknowledged ways without first reflecting upon such things as whether their loud truth was any wiser than the endless multitude of quieter ones lurking in the peripheral of any curative treatment or causation of illness. Nina was also right in the outright hoarding of knowledge in the profession, as some that did know a better remedy too often kept silent about it or were simply lost in the sea of a prevailing opinion on the matter. It was a story that she heard too many times from the village healers and rural physicians themselves, who had either come to embrace ways which Jayla knew to be false or they simply kept their treatments private and subsequently marketed themselves as the wiser one amongst peers. She hurriedly amended the conversation with: "Thankfully we've learned enough as lemmings to know that despite the will of any gods, broken arms can be mended. I wouldn't like to think about what some individual treatments might entail if they hadn't come to accept the wisdom of the few who decided for once to share their knowledge. It's silly, there seems to be no way to win beyond the acceptance of how to treat broken arms and other, more trivial issues whose remedies have eventually become common knowledge." Jayla trudged onwards, still feeling the fool for the tangent that for whatever reason sounded so alien for her to say aloud. They were well past their village and the beach by the time their conversation about all the innumerable instances of malpractice in medieval society had ended, making better progress than she would have liked to hope in the sweltering heat. From her peripheral she had seen Tatiana about to say something, opening her mouth to do as much but just as quickly she had closed it and stared listlessly ahead with a practiced ignorance when it came to an adult discussion she was better off not butting into. All she did instead was saunter off ahead of them, idly bird-watching and occasionally looking back mischievously to see whether such dull conversation had ended. Thankfully it was not long after until Nina had spoken of the island and her home, changing the subject entirely from something nobody wanted to discuss, drawing her attention around again. How Nina now so curtly spoke of these subjects after going into such lengths for their previous conversations certainly raised a brow, but she dismissed it as just another one of the girl's reservations that she had eventually grown accustomed to in the short period of time they've known one another. Something the girl had said of the islands made her instinctively tense, that same old distrust of an outside world rearing its ugly head again as for the second time in a day it was Jayla herself not wanting to speak of a better undiscussed thing. "I have heard much of the same, the supposed kindness they do us by observing what little tradition remains here. It's entirely more cynical than that, I'm afraid, but small victories mean everything in a world that's changing no matter how some would like it to remain a certain way. I was raised by those people into believing in the magic of this island, of our traditions which still remain to this day and that some say are testament to that apparent past. There's a long history here no matter what some might think about all the talk of magic and wonder, and not all of it can easily be erased by another land's laws. Not when our past is still held in more reverence than all the progress people in boats brought, who would like to build a temple to civilization over its bones. They've founded an island of their foreign lands in the middle of a country that is different, amongst a culture that is different, and especially amongst people who are very different." This time it was Tatiana who finally spoke up. "No need to be so dramatic, it's not like she needs that much convincing for you to start telling her all the stories you'd like. I think she's too nice to refuse either way, even if you bore her out of her mind with them like some old dull hag." "Tati, I swear by all the gods--" The two of them bickered for a moment's pass, lightheartedly enough until Nina finally continued her story in a different voice-- almost undetectable but there all the same, causing Jayla's renewed interest to flutter with a hundred different questions left unvoiced in the cloyingly thick summer's air. She had felt a sudden and sharp pang of a nostalgia that was not hers. It was a story of adventure and an easy, ever straightforward path. This drowned girl shared a past to them that seemed like a thing so private and personal but shared she did all the same, causing even Tatiana to listen with an unusual intensity while the younger girl walked in lock-step beside her, their earlier grappling half-forgotten like the arm that was locked around Tati's neck. Somehow the youth had escaped the wrath of the older woman, nudging closer to Nina. "Do you miss it? All that dullness back home? You seem to be doing swell for yourself this far from it, so you are. Now you're here living high and bleeding mighty up in a castle, after travelling what was probably half the world if you had any actual winters!" Tatiana, who looked far too curious for her own good said with an expression of thoughtful indulgence. Her eyes were practically glazed over, as she basked a tanned face in the few glimpses of a sun's rays from beyond the thick foliage. Jayla was worried about that look. It spoke of a growing wildness in the girl that couldn't be expressed, or nurtured in a village like theirs and feeding it only encouraged the same feelings of resentment towards their simple ways much in the same way that Nina would have likely felt - judging from her words. Tatiana's face took an even more colored expression as she continued. "You must tell me one of these days, I want to know more... of everything. It's just like what you said about a doctor's knowledge! It starves a person, don't you think? To know next to nothing about this world when you've been living in it all this time!" Before Jayla could think to admonish the girl, no matter how selfish it might be to hold her back, she was interrupted by the same hoofbeats that turned Nina from the road-- they followed shortly thereafter, trusting in the instincts of their guide to avoid the horsemen who had slowed to a stroll down the dirt path. She watched these men come towards them, her calloused fingers playing nervously with the spun, fraying fabric of her belted gown in an almost childish way that shamed her, but it was hard not to be shamed when looking upon the well-dressed riders from the city in their freshly dyed cloaks and surprisingly soft features; grown fat and complacent from an existence within the walls. Tatiana moved ahead with shameless curiosity, meeting the riders up the road. The leading man was a black-haired youth with a hard face, dark eyes, and an alarming intensity in the latter. He dipped his bicorne hat from the perch atop his head at the three women, all smiles as his angular and sunken face studied them with a sort of passive curiosity. Jayla was more interested in the scabbard and mail poking from his finely tailored clothes than of the man's seemingly carefree attitude. He leaned down from his saddle and said something to Tatiana which put an arrogant sort of smile on the younger girl's face as she sharply looked away, not paying him the time of day until the boy had laughed and relented with whatever he had teased before continuing their conversation further. "... I'm the household captain of my lord's horse, if that's what you meant. You and your friends must be on your way to market then, is that it? It's a shame upon a day like today, when there's so few of them to enjoy this kind of peace. I've forgotten what was it was like in the city. It seems like everyone in it has forgotten what it means to relax, it sometimes feels." This time Jayla was not late to admonishing the girl who was already speaking to these strange men with a sharp look, bowing her head with a nervousness she did not know why she felt, though somehow knew that Tatiana had said too much to these strangers "That is the truth, we must give thanks to our prosperity and pray it stays that way. There's never enough simple, kind days like this in the world, and a walk to the marketplace seems as fair as anything else to spend them on." The leading horseman smiled quietly, although his followers behind him snorted with the same impatience as their horses. A bearded man behind the rest of the three, with a lance tied with a pendent of a flag unseen in the windless day merely frowned at the delay, his sweat-slicked face molded into hard lines which gave an appearance of an eternal scowl. "Then I won't delay it any longer," the captain replied almost kindly, except for the way he now stared at Nina with a look bordering on some realization-- all previous generosity was momentarily forgotten in those blue eyes, but then he finally turned to Tatiana. "It's been my finest pleasure, do find yourselves safe to town. Peace is such an abstract thing and an easy thing to break, to my heart's ache. I have no doubts you'll see those sights in the city for yourself, Tati. It's hard to ignore them if you love the beauty in this world, the old exchange district for one?" And then they were on their way, leaving Jayla to raise a brow at the girl who now looked at her with those round eyes that spoke of complete and utter innocence. Not that she believed it for a moment, but on they walked all the same as the ground beneath them became more solid, finally giving way to cobblestones and signs of civilization. Her mind was still on the foreign men and why they ever would have reason to come this far south, even as she looked to Nina for any evidence as to their intentions or if she had known them at all. Despite whatever the girl happened to give away in that brief interaction, she kept her mouth shut and stared ahead, exhausted by the buckets and from the walking, having not nearly enough energy to even think on it right now. It was becoming difficult to shift the weight of the bucket of clams so that she could brush the fraying strands of hair plastered to her plain face. "After this, you wouldn't mind taking us on a little tour of the town, Nina? It is a nice day, too buggering nice to sit on our hands with I'm telling you. It'll be fun-- that's still a word in your lexicon, isn't it Jayla? Maybe buy one of those pastry pies, and..." Jayla rolled her eyes at Tatiana's abruptly renewed interest. Even as she herself was infected with the same strange enthusiasm after the encounter, having to still her pounding heart after a second's rest and ultimately finding herself curiously free of the day's previous fears; as if they were all washed away after her unfounded suspicions of danger in every corner came to absolutely nothing. As if she finally realized that they were only men, and the town was only a town, and so she had little reason to find herself mistrustful of such things. Only for all those familiar fears to come pouring back to the tune of pounding hooves, she was only dimly aware of how her body tensed and how she involuntarily turned to see the horsemen returning in their direction with reinvigorated purpose. She knew to fear for some primal reason within her, from perhaps a genetic memory of so many others before-- in a world that was not kind in the end, where peace was only an abstract idea after all - Jayla froze, uncertain whether they'd simply ride past. It was clear that they found the information they were looking for in the village, and it was only too likely that the captain tied Nina's face to all of this, but Jayla did not know this yet, for she was stricken with a fear that froze her in a way utterly unnatural to anything else she had felt in her simple, quiet world.
  2. It was a fruitless venture that ultimately came from Nina's diagnostics, though Jayla drew tepid solace if in nothing else but the well meant attempt Nina had made. There was a quiet intelligence in the girl's actions that surprised her, to see someone so abruptly shift from trivial conversation to very nearly philosophizing about the origins of her ailment in words that were... difficult to interpret, but obviously came from somewhere of surprising knowledge that Jayla no doubt would have appreciated were she not the subject of these analytical musings. An irony not lost on her that this was meant to be Jayla's practice; the healing of the sick, the alleviation of pains and aches, although more often than not it was the scrapes and bumps of villagers whom had come to her grandmother's cottage for quick, silly remedies to be provided. Her tools were metal scalpels and leather strops, musty herbs and crushed poultices - mortars and pestles instead of magick and unseen illnesses, so she was dreadfully disadvantaged in the end when it was her own condition that became the issue. Some of Nina's words did eventually make sense to her as she pondered upon them, drawing from her memories of those she treated before as symptoms of an infection lurking underneath the skin, but attacking different tissue than she was used to seeing in patients who experienced such bacterial blights brought on by untreated wounds or polluted waters. Jayla did not know what to make of it, for every case she knew was different in some way and other times was utterly unique in itself, though there always happened to be a solution in time. Something she had given up on for herself. "Had I known what it fought, or why it comes and goes when it pleases, then all the rest would have made sense to me." Jayla commented absentmindedly, picking herself from the sands with a hard smile that was more to soothe Nina's mind on the matter than her own. "Some villagers have come to my grandmother for such malaises of the body that can rarely be cured but instead treated, mostly those who suffer pains of digestion, of tired muscles and jaundices, and of women's... bodily concerns, unfortunately we have less success than most would have prayed for when they came to us." And that was the unfortunate truth, a reality of life. Had she known more of everything in the world than perhaps some could be helped, or even saved, Those thoughts were like any cancer that must be excised before it spread hopelessness and did more harm than good in the indecision that it might have caused, when sometimes all that mattered in much of life is in the act and not the contemplation. Sometimes. To second guess most treatments was to cause more of a headache, her grandmother had said one time or another in the past - however much Jayla thought to disagree with that theory, she had wisely kept such thoughts to herself in recognition of the irritable old woman's ability. That and her wraths were quite a sight to behold for anyone not accustomed to the cankerous ramblings of her grandmother, and she tried her best to avoid them as the years have neither dulled her tongue nor Jayla's fears of yet another lecture. "Those pesky merchants, don't they have better ways to make coin than at the expense of others, or is it the army I should be blaming?" she responded with only the smallest smile in her voice, almost as curious for the answer as she was amused by the way the girl had written the narrative. It was a straightforward way to explain the nuances of an infection or other illness of the body, perhaps she would use it for the next time a villager's curiosity forced her to an explanation. Jayla forgot the teasing and any subsequent answer when she took a handful of cautious steps and found the pain almost gone by the time she had reached the other bucket, knowing it'd return later but distracting herself from that inevitable fact by listening to the girl's reply as to whether their help would be appreciated by a drowned waif bedecked with swords like some swaggering duelist. When it did come, Jayla just laughed at Nina's immediate assent at their assistance, so readily given at Tatiana's goading when the girl at last rose with them. This laughter was despite her own misgivings that were not entirely innocent as not wishing to become a burden upon this girl, and still lurked in the recesses of her thoughts. All this discussion of healing hadn't entirely soothed her suspicions about the trip to the castle with a girl they had just met, had known for less than an hour, and whose identity raised more questions than answers that she might not have wanted to hear in the first place. It wasn't Nina's fault but rather the faults of an inherently suspicious mind gifted to Jayla over the years of living in practiced isolation, deliberate ignorance, and the girl needn't look no further than her village to indulge all that she would have liked for such things. All the rumors and fearmongering. All the prayer in substitution of cynical minds. It was her reality, yet she demonstrated none of those reservations on her angular, almost tender expression; merely an involuntary frown after she had forgotten to smile, lips pulled downwards at such an angle as to seem like an effortless characteristic of hers. It happened to be an effortless characteristic of hers, but an easy smile was better bed manners than looking ghastly all the time with the face she pulled-- someone told her once and thus did she suffer like a marionette on a string ever since. "You found that thing? This why they kept me from clam diving, 'cause all you older buggers get to keep the loot to yourselves?" Tatiana said, almost indignantly. The youth had followed them onto the walkway of packed dirt and earth, capering along like a lost child which occasionally took hurried, inquisitive glances over Nina's shoulder. Once they got onto the path, she took a moment to pluck another clam from the bucket in an attempt to both walk and lever it open with her bare fingers. "You never found something like that, or were you holding out on me all this time?" Jayla was helplessly curious too, raising a thin brow at the prospect. "Not quite." "So she says! It's another chapter for the saga you'll be telling everyone back at the village for as long as they want to hear it again; which will be forever! You won't understand what it's like there, Nina. Being from civilization proper an' all. It's a sense of awe and adventure at the big wide world until they have to leave their cozy little cottages, then it's all 'let's wait for Kann to come back from the bumper harvest in the city so we can hear it from him, why waste the day walking!' They make me want to spit!" "It has... tradition. I doubt most would agree that it has anything more, but we're family in every other sense of the world but blood. Sometimes it gets tiring, with all the gossip and grandmothers thinking you're one of their own at their beck and call when it's time for them to fold the linen. They all mean well and we've struggled together every time the times become unpleasant, but it gets tiring." She maneuvered best she could upon the path without her sandals, suffering less than most for how quickly her feet became calloused over the years of village living and the inconvenience of managing the leather straps of said sandals all the time, but liking the experience little all the same. They walked in silence for a length of time as she tried her hardest not to spill any more seawater on her old brown gown than was necessary, as the last thing she wanted was to catch a cold as the sun fell in the sky. Though she could not see it by now underneath the teeming canopy of leaves and low-hanging branches as their trail progressively diverted away from the beach, and whatever slivers of it was left to be seen through the thickening forest. "It gets especially tiring when you're an unwed woman, disregarding the fact that you're either surrounded by children or those twenty years your elder. You're told the same nonsense every dance and festival by every aunt in the village about how they'd enjoy even more children running around, even though children are dreadfully poor at chores, brushing down livestock, or not being bothersome little things." Tatiana scoffed, having finally opened the clam with her teeth while making such a noise so that Jayla thought she was choking for the briefest of seconds. "The poor woman is already doomed to a life of spinsterhood, so she is. Must be awfully dreadful to inherit a tidy little cabin and a position of respect reading the veins and only little old me being bothersome! I can see you having it worse there. Not to mention you're coordinating Asaal's festival this year!" "It's a place of familiarity," she continued. "How was your home? If you'll forgive my curiosity." It was evident she meant whatever home Nina had before the castle, if indeed she had one. And in the indiscernible distance, the cobbled road answered the hooves of horsemen with a cacophony of dull thuds, as the combined weight of rider and their animal caused loose stones to dislodge from the poorly constructed roadway, its presence having deteriorated with every passing mile from the city they rode. There were four men, all armed and armored in the livery of a lord without land and with little else to his name but the recognition of title and heraldry. Their sabretaches clattered noisily against polished leather saddles, draped in grey caparisons to protect the rest of their equipment against the elements, while the riders themselves wore mail and leather and short-trimmed cloaks over their armor, pinned at the shoulder with a silver lizard of some kind. It was a quest headed by a short-haired youth who looked too thin for all of this baggage, too young to be leading a handful of men, and yet his lord had written an order and it was his to obey. They listened to the tales as they went, followed an unseen scent of whatever it was that they were after - going forth with naught else but the knowledge of the event which had unraveled earlier today, and the implicit promises of whatever was the cause of it held some degree of power. Therefore it had value to a desperate man.
  3. Jayla had half listened to it all, to all the young woman's answers for the disjointed and largely incoherent questioning, and when it was over she gave the girl such a immediate look of sympathy that she had to laugh at the way in which she was now being regarded by their half-drowned guest, having finally mustered the courage to meet the older girl's eyes when asked of where she had hailed from. It was remarkable how much she gleaned from that fleeting moment's interaction, for she was always told that someone's eyes soon parted with everything the incautious did not think to hide, or hide well enough, and it was obvious from this girl's eyes that she had a lot she wished to hide. To say anything or to merely admit a curiosity over something so readily apparent was unlikely to win any favors, or indeed to win anything at all besides the same practiced deflections. But she wondered all the same. Not about the girl's ethnicity, since there was probably truth in her words that she was from a bit of everywhere - so was she, so were most of the people she had known from the city or mainland and one could rarely expect them to know anything of their lineage in a melting pot quite like Jigoku, and especially not the town of the Azure archipelago where countless numbers of cultures converged into something otherwise unrecognizable for anyone that did not live near such a widely trafficked port. "There's nothing wrong with a little fat on your bones, it's a sign of Asaal's prosperity. My uncle would agree with me, though I do not want to tell him that it only applies to the daughters of Asaal." Tatiana had snorted at what had been said, muttering something indecent about the aforementioned uncle to which Jalya ignored for she could not defend against the truth. "A little trip to the castle and you'll be starving, I'll be starving. I don't think her mamam would mind someone else eating her out of house and home, I've been doing it long enough." Jalya subsequently responded with a sharp rap on the smaller girl's head with bare knuckles, long since utilized for such acts of discipline. She could not complain about sore knuckles as it worked every time - at least in decent company. Still she wondered, in the way that rats chewed on a bone, gnawing until there was nothing left. Too much of the girl's tales seemed outlandish for a mere servant, and Jayla was suddenly struck by a contemplation utterly alien to her and the life she had so warmly embraced for all these years. How it would've been like to be from a place that was not like her home. It seemed like it would have presented opportunities which she could not see ever happening here in the village's old, proven ways, while the girl's eyes sparkled with a sort of mischief that Jayla could only guess came from a life of wandering, which she knew she would never understand. Nor did she wish to, since it would mean trading her contentment for a life of danger, and in this case she was content to let the thought pass with hardly a second thought. "Here…Got someone’s attention, got myself an apprenticeship. Nearly died. Got thrown in prison. Unsure about the order. Would not recommend.” Then she was surprised all over again by how quickly Nina had warmed up to them, as the remark was said in such an entirely spontaneous, abrupt way by the shy girl that this time Jayla laughed with real mirth in her voice. "I don't doubt that. I don't think I would understand half of it either, to be honest with you. You were in prison, you said?" Jayla had replied behind a smile hidden by fingers calloused by years of labor, and she told the truth about her inexperience. To be ignorant was sometimes a virtue it seemed, for their village was rarely truly troubled by all those things the girl had described. Her apprenticeship was essentially passed down from her family, granted to her by sharing in that work from practically the day she was born. As with death and prison - they were exceedingly distant topics that were otherwise divorced from their existence as a whole aside from the passing of a beloved one gone to the sand in their old age, or the latest tidbits of news from the city that they were always eager to hear, as such monotony bred a thirst that was rarely quenched otherwise with the quaint lifestyle her people had lived. Jalya's whole life was simple like that. Much like her grandmother's, and her mother's. In the morning they would spurn the traditional tea until she had first swept away the old rushes from the mud-hardened floor with a homemade broom of reedy twigs, feed what little animals they had, and spread the ashes they had gathered from their hearth onto a spare planter box so that they could make the traditional chalk for what little decoration their simple cabin had boasted. Then they would pray to the many, multifaceted gods of the seas and the mountains and the hillocks who bore no names except for their constant presence in a peasant's life and that of nature. There were a few gods with names, for sure, they had to be prayed to and acknowledged from time to time as well lest some bald-faced peasant incurred their wrath in some manner. It was a horribly boring routine that Jayla could not be more happy with, but different strokes she supposed. All that day's happy contentment up until now vanished near instantaneously the second Nina had touched her feet, as though she had acquiesced under a mortal duress, but acquiesce she did. "When did it happen?" Jayla finally repeated, biting off a laugh turned bitter this time and peering out the peripheral of her suddenly disinterested eyes towards the frolicking of gulls long spent idly swaying in the air. Only too often did pain like this come after the sudden inflammation and reddening, sometimes turning her rightmost toes to naught but engorged bruises. Jayla frequently suffered for days at a time no matter what old wife's tale she tried that particular day, while the condition turned her joints to what felt like a stinging bundle of nerves-- all of that and more she now experienced during the inspection, nearly having forgotten about it during their talk. "I was younger than you when it first came. My grandmother didn't know what to think of it, only that it passed in time and so could not be worth the effort of a city doctor with all their promises in return for coin. I simply dealt with it, I always do." Tatiana had watched the proceedings in her puckish way, her chubby expression only further souring when she had seen Nina's attempts at diagnosing the disease and finding it remarkable that the silly girl was still alive after handling an injury like Jalya's so indelicately. Although it seemed nearly impossible for delicacy when episodes like this came to pass from time to time, and so the best option was avoiding the older girl's moods altogether since she often spoke more senseless, angry words than Tati had ever heard in one lifetime. Her eyes widened even further at the unimpressive display of magic, largely foreign to her aside from the few tricks their people had known to use for everyday convenience. "It's worth a try, so it is. I say you stop complaining over a little curse or condition or whatever that bleeding rural healer wants to call it and we go for a trip." Tatiana sought out any excuse, even at the behest of the woman who treated her like a child; because she was curious, and the city was closer, and since she cared. To say as much would be outright anathema to her very being and the small lump of sympathy in her chest felt wrong there, especially for a grown woman who should be handling her own affairs and she did not want it there any longer, so she decided for them. "A little jaunt to the castle doesn't sound so bad, as you were practically begging the poor waif for company before anyway." "I couldn't impose on you like that." "Maybe just this once, since we practically saved your life and all if you didn't want to be carted off to the surgeons by some poor dob thinking you were already dead! Or eaten by the landsnarks! Or children! The buggers can get hungry, so you know - Ah!" she suddenly proclaimed, having ultimately noticed the relic in the cradle of sifted sand and the way that it glowed in such a small, soft way that she at first thought it a trick of the waning sun. A teenager's obscene nosiness reared its bothersome head with renewed vigor, her instincts replying to that vigor by taking an almost possessed step towards something that was shiny in her world of mud and clay. But she looked to Jayla and knew there would be wrath from her despite being a gouty cripple, so she left it be. There was a sudden silence which rested like a death's wreath upon them, if only momentarily as if whatever the coin was it had compelled them to that silence with its deeply dark and deeply disturbing thrumming. It felt like a pulsating heartbeat drumming along to a tune only it could hear, though Tatiana had not touched it, did not even know how she was given the impression. "That how you do your magick? My pa had plain runestones so he did, for the cooking and watering. Nothing like that!"
  4. It would be a sore understatement to consider the little assembly being held in the midst of the camp as anything but utterly bizarre, as evidenced of the looks given by the working parties-- short hurried glances and almost disbelieving eyes trailing the newcomers as they were led away by one of the young aides to the overseer. Even Ravlouch's little bureaucratic smile wavered against so many interrogating stares, though he was far too polite to mention it, so thus he bravely smiled on; gracing the newly arrived with all the charisma the lanky, almost delicate man could muster. Harlan simply nodded in polite regard towards the aide, grunting as he did in acknowledgement of the upcoming briefing and almost, almost grinned at Grovel's naked enthusiasm if a vague forming of the edge of his lips into an upwards angle to display yellowed teeth, or the slightest elevation of bushy brows could in fact be considered a grin. The slave was evidently happy to be here if nobody else was. He couldn't help but be infected by the naïve optimism that was otherwise been so long absent during this expedition of mud and dirt and complaining. He couldn't help but hope it could be a sign, however disheveled and distressing it presented itself to be, that there was promise to right the wrongs of this whole disaster. "About how many more people are there?" "Most would be putting it conservatively at two hundred, conservatively. You'd be spending the whole day counting heads if you ever wanted an accurate number by any means. Some men bring their wives or women, and their children, and all the other camp followers who thought it was the grandest of adventures to come up here and sweat in the sun like all the rest of us. Then they feel it necessary to bring their children and family out to this bloody place too. It's a headache," Harlan went on with the summary of the life in the camps astride his mule, providing what he thought was an ideal view of the sagging huts and its denizens going about the fruits of their labor, however insubstantial such a view might be with the site currently in the shambles that it was. "Fortunately, I'm not one of those men. I'm here to work, nothing more," he interjected laconically, a particular sort of pride in his voice at the boast. "But it is home, the only home some might have, both to them and to you for however long you're staying with us." "You're quite right, remarkably right my dear Harlan. To be sure that we've got all those silly courtesies out of the way, all that's left is to find you some beds for the night. My name is Ravlouch, and though I might not have the pleasure of accompanying you for much longer, I wish you the greatest success for your upcoming venture." And so they went to find beds for the rag-tag collection of mercenaries, depositing them into whatever spare lodgings were still open at this time of evening and hoping there wouldn't be any undue complaints in the morning about the dreadfully cramped living arrangements, or the smell, or the overall all encompassing squalor they had to enjoy for the indefinite future until their contracts were completed. The next morning came as any other; with the sounds of poorly greased cart wheels being shifted through the cobbles with the hope that the mules were healthy enough and the ground stable enough after the night's rain to avoid yet another broken spoke on the long road ahead. It also came with the shouts of overseers and mule drivers, clanging of pots and pans, and sizzling of cookfires for the next shift's delayed breakfast due to the heavy rainfall that dampened the wood and tinder. This was met with the typical moaning. As was usual, nothing came of the complaints except the unhappiness of men and the assurances that their meals in massive sizzling cauldrons would be finished soon. The sellswords would likely be met with all of this and more before they even stepped from their tents, eventually being directed towards a hut which looked like any other, as plain as it was, and yet all the same housed the unofficial headquarters of the camp's officers in its four walls of long crumbling sandstone. Harlan and Ravlouch were both there already, encouraged by the presence of the overseer and his aides to sit themselves at a wide table almost too large for the room itself, but was still necessary in order to house all the partially translated maps with some leftover plates of dumplings and freshly cooked bread that the few men picked at from time to time. It was Ravlouch who, huddled in piles of furs almost as big as himself, stood to offer the respective greetings to all of their latest guests with a flourish of a brow - then another of his smiles. "Lovely, just lovely! I hope you all had your rest, to say that you'll need it would be putting it lightly. I have no doubts that you enjoyed your accommodations though, so hopefully rest is the one thing we need not worry about here." He amended hurriedly, in a subtle way of dismissing any upcoming concerns about said accommodations, while subsequently gathering the momentum of what was to be discussed with the overseer standing next to him. "Now then, might we begin our little conference? I'm afraid there isn't much time with the company's budget on the line."
  5. Mmmm, I see that you too have incredibly cultured tastes. I'm sure you'll find all of what you're looking for and more around these parts if you decide to finally give writing a spin again, and this seems like the one of the best places to do it, at least from my perspective. Trust me, I know full well what it's like to come back after a long, long absence of anything to do with big words and writing those big words down but I'm sure you'll do fine, you might even enjoy it too. Expecting to see wonderful things from you, dear brave adult-returning-Bubbles.
  6. The wind carried the smells of the sea, wafting up from the undulations of a rising tide that chased Jayla and the girl as they fled with their buckets towards higher ground. It was not a graceful retreat; though the sand felt cool and damp beneath her feet, Jayla could appreciate little of it in light of the swelling arcing up her ankles. Her bucket banged rhythmically against her leg as she walked and ignored such pains for what seemed like a sliver of eternity, sloshing seawater to be absorbed greedily by the ever parched terrain, but managing all the same to look after this stranger's catch as if it were her own. Jayla too might have had a touch of the bends had she dared diagnose the deep, terrible ache in her joints with the girl's unfamiliar expression, although kept it to herself as they neared the dunes which her two companions from earlier seen it fit to remain. The others had gone by then, progressively dwindling as the remainder of the curious onlookers were chaperoned back the way they came, quickly conducted away from the naked and delirious stranger as both a matter of decency and ill disguised precaution. It was by the dunes that they found their shelter, amidst great golden waves that had been stopped at the edge of the thickets and frozen for all eternity. The wind came with exhausted gusts now, causing the tops of the knoll to sway and bend in the long shadows of the broiling sun. Her tongue felt swollen, and her head spun with the smells of the ocean, all of which she might have welcomed on another day dedicated to simple pleasures - instead she was taking care of a strange girl made stranger by a nakedness they all had to surreptitiously avoid and not just one, but two swords for what seemed like mere clam diving. It was equally strange then how the girl's silence went unnoticed for a time, with Tatiana in particular forgetting the diver's presence as she reveled in the heat with her shoulders hunched and head held at an angle, her hair a tangled nest of chestnut curls. Jayla was too intent on rubbing down the lengths of her calves with cautious, kneading palms. It came and went-- this kind of pain, despite the dozens of vague remedies tried and touted by old wife's tales and leading nowhere except a temporary respite. They called it all sorts of silly names that she cared not to remember, since it hurt all the same. “Thank you. I’m Nina.” said the strange girl, beginning to shuck her deposited haul of clams with one of the more curious swords that the local woman could not begin to make a reference to. It was by all accounts a blade well employed with the shucking of shells - except it was nothing she'd seen before and Jayla could only marvel at the dexterity in which the girl utilized it, and she was given the faint impression that in proper hands the sword would make for a deadly tool against more than simple seashells. “Clams?” She was spared needing to answer by the excited introduction of Tatiana having finally taken notice of the new girl's sudden loquaciousness and matching it tenfold, seemingly forgetting the events that brought them to the beach in the first place. "The castle! You're from the castle, are you?" Tatiana, who had finally noticed the apparel and weaponry, said with a sort of cautious enthusiasm belying the usual impulsiveness Jayla knew of the girl. Had she believed the claim, then the youth, indeed all of them would have all the reasons in the world to worry about whatever came from the place of so much woe. Her eyes were wide as she spoke, but helped herself to a clam all the same. "How's it like living with the fops, are they why you're all the way down here drowning yourself in puddles of water? The marketplace not fresh enough for their tastes?" "Tati!" "Not that I blame you! I'd be their bloody chimneysweeper for a bed proper-like." Tatiana amended herself hurriedly, clam juice already running down her chin while she hid her eating habits from a girl as close to royalty as they'd ever get. The youth went on asking all kinds of questions she thought best to coerce from Nina in the short time they had: what was it like, why'd they arm a half-starved waif like her with those bloody things, why didn't she eat more, looking scrawny as she was, was it true about what they said about the Duke? Jayla couldn't help but smile, despite feeling an undeniable guilt about the interrogation for someone who still looked out of her wits as she struggled with her clothes. But she couldn't hope to tamper Tatiana's fervor until she had her say, and to deny her own curiosity would be a lie, so she sat, waiting for the largely one-sided conversation to abate. It was a convenient moment for introspection, not just because of the tremor of the sky that showed no symptoms of returning, but with the girl whom she unashamedly examined with clinical eyes while her victim was presumably preoccupied with someone closer to her age, marking Nina as more than a stranger; foreign. Not of this island, with her wide eyes and straight hair, and not like the people who had come in their boats to ply their trades and dock their ships. To her side was Joao who, noticing he was being watched for the first time, turned and looked away sullenly from the proceedings as if it had little and less to do with him. Not that Jayla could blame the taller boy looming beyond the three women, knowing he heard the stories and saw the truth in some of them whenever it was his time to return to the marketplace to sell what little his family had earned in the fields. They all had heard those rumors at one time or another and they all had the suspicious distrust of anything to do with a wider civilization ingrained deeply into their closely knit communities, though she couldn't help but think of this Nina as somehow different-- flawed in some way that set her apart from the people who had lived in the distant castle. Though perhaps that was simply her poor choice of clothes that looked like they'd fall apart at any given moment, and the way she wore them with an incomprehensible pride. "I'm Jayla, you must forgive her if you can. Are you a native here? How'd you come to work in the castle?" She spoke of what was on her mind candidly, forthrightly, with a softness lost on the other girl with her staccato of jumbled words as if she had only a limited time to say everything she felt necessary to be said and may the gods smite whomever dared stop her from expressing herself. Tatiana looked at her with a momentary outrage, but the battle of the wills was short-lived and instead she thumped into the sand between them with an exaggerated sigh of someone who thought she knew just about everything and whatever Jayla was seeking was a waste of effort to even bother asking, since there were far more interesting things to be spoken of like the light that had cut through the sky. But she was compelled to silence by the older girl and thus did not want to seem petulant in comparison so held her silence she did. Finally, once all of the questioning was out of the way, she would eventually say: "It'll be a pleasure to help you with the journey, it isn't too long of a walk and there's worse things to be doing." Her grandmother's chores would have to wait, and she had no doubt the old woman still had the robustness to do whatever needed to be done and do it better than Jayla ever could in her absence. It was true that she felt less like a partner and much more like an apprentice, if that much. Besides, it was only a short journey and she didn't doubt it would not take more than a couple hours in exchange for enough gossip of things she saw to nullify her grandmother's anger.
  7. It seemed that time lapsed between the sun-drenched hours with little to dissuade the perfectly crafted monotony of an island at peace with the quiet, simple life afforded them. That all changed with a shudder and a crack, the sound resembling for all the world like a tasseled whip. As though a thousand tales unraveled and snapped all at once underneath the wonderful pulse of light, so too did the idyllic peace that had smothered the island for so long in a cloying miasma of endless ennui and endless blue skies. It did not come quickly, this brutal realization of change, but softly; an aftershock that never struck or a butcher’s blade that never fell, serving to lull the torpid and suspicious faces of the archipelago’s people yet again into the safety of routine in which so long stood as a bulwark against the unthinkable realities beyond their own. Men in the fields had picked themselves up after a lurch of their now forgotten stepladders to watch and wait, trampling the yellowed and fattened papaya underfoot in their sudden curiosity and ignoring the trickling juices forming divulets in the freshly tilled soil, until at last their supervisors compelled the sun-tanned workers back to their stations with harsh voices. They returned sluggishly, as if shaking themselves from a best unremembered dream. While the sailors and dockworkers, carters and midshipmen - an even more suspicious breed of men, without exception, had already interpreted auguries and found auspices in the sudden, brief event and swore by all the gods of the validity in which they lent such portents. Although they too could not idly dwell on it, for there was the rigging to mend and ship hulls to caulk with viscous vats of tar left steaming in the day’s heat alongside the upturned vessels of the bay, which resembled great beached beasts of the deep. Some deduced and wove elaborate excuses in a heartbeat in order to accommodate their routines that the often aforementioned peace permitted, and yet others still ranted or raved in the streets to an audience of scornful disbelief. Indeed, it was a familiar scene that repeated itself again and again in the cobbled streets of the port’s town to the fishing communities with their thatched roofs and salting huts, though all of it achieved little and less amongst most to whom wanted nothing more than to forget it ever happened. They simply wanted an uncomplicated life, somewhere which the harvests were bountiful and the sea provided. From the vantage of a raised pavilion, its open terrace overlooking one of the town’s multitude of gently streaming canals, was a woman and a man. The woman was the height of a decadent luxury so often seen in this district, appearing the very image of some kind of lounging cat from her high-backed chaise and its upholstering of silken blue velvet and colorful tassels. Her skin was darkly tanned and plentiful with what little the courtesan wore, while her blue eyes were somehow both sharply curious and dangerously dismissive of all the world’s woes; as if such things rarely affected her sheltered life, and the thought given to them was only to indulge that rapidly passing curiosity. It was the look in her eyes now as she inspected the blonde, long-faced lordling standing in the mouth of the terrace from a portrait’s angle. He was pulling an embroidered robe over his shift, its expensive fabric dancing with little depictions of flowers. “You look very pretty.” She teased the man, plucking a flower so pale it was nearly white from a decanter of what was presumably left of their wine to instead grace his flowing locks of hair with. He was speaking at length about whatever had shook the tiling from nearby châteaus and scoured dozens of screaming gulls from the rooftops with contemptuous ease, but she wasn’t listening. The time of danger - true danger, had presumably passed, and now all was as it should be and so why was it necessary for them to discuss anything but pleasure? “You look distracted,” he replied flatly, looking to the churning swells of the sea. His hands and face were clammy already, each gust of wind whipping up from the breakwater’s edge promised another day of sickeningly sweet humidity that he all but despised now. “and dreadfully indifferent.” “Some poor alchemist probably burnt his bum is all, leave it to the peasants to prognosticate the end of the moon if they wanted to. You can hear them now.” “So you can.” And so they did, for voices carried easily on the water for all to hear those prognostications of doom and long delayed vengeance of whichever wrathful god the red-faced priest decided would bring retribution down upon the sinners; the invaders; the rich or the poor; whomever would attract the greatest intended audiences, ripe with coins for the collection plates. Somewhere in the city was another veranda with an equally similar vantage, though instead of listening to the muted sounds of a peasantry in arms and laughing with a vague amusement of the careless, the rotund man was scribbling down orders on the cheaply made parchment and subsequently handing them to an ever bowing servant whose destination for them took him far from the creature comforts of the port town. The coming of a sudden squall, foreshadowed by so many of these momentary tales, stretched the archipelago as taut as all those expertly crafted knots of rigging. Along the beach, however, was the sincere definition of ‘eye of the storm’ that couldn’t have been more applicable unless there was, of course, an actual monsoon. Most of the distant shapes of scows and sloops and skiffs and what have you had recovered by then, and others simply resumed plying their trade amongst a flurry of activity from the men of other vessels who were climbing the shrouds to the masts and hammering loose the remnants of the sail’s rigging. Some smaller boats were left to spin helplessly upon the sea with nothing to do but stare forlornly at what was left of their tattered canvas and trailing ropes, naturally cursing their luck for not bringing their lucky talismans or rabbit feet. Jalya huddled amongst the handful of adults, whoever thought it wise to remain, appreciative of what little warmth was spared the gusts of breeze by their tightly knit formation though she herself could think of no reason why she had come, other than to spite the dullness of the village and its rote routines - of which there were a great many. Thus Jalya stubbornly ploughed on with that singular thought in mind, carefully navigating the rocky shoreline and puddled water left by the indents of countless feet before them, pricking her heels on crushed foliage, and inwardly cursing when the wounds which drew blood were submerged in lapping saltwater. It seemed at first like a quarter of the nearby village had forcibly ejected everyone living under those straw-slapped roofs and sent them pattering down to the strip of beach in an excited frenzy, with a horde of bare-footed children trailing wet clumps of sand and tripping over partially submerged lobster traps in their excited rush. All of this trouble when the sanctity of the village was by far more comfortable than stomping up and down a narrow tract of land resulted in a pitifully small group after a time, savaged by discomfort and chores that had to be done by the day’s end, and consequently dominated by rampaging children overseen by little more than four elders who were hardly more than children themselves. The ragtag mob reached the far end of the beach moments later in this fantastic journey of theirs, and stopping as soon as they had come, as there was little left to see except a half-drowned waif on the sands and the suddenly brutal winds sliding off the agitated sea, flogging at the bare skin of anyone foolish enough to step from the thickly hewn canopy of leaves serving as a barrier to the bay’s violence. A man in passing took one look at the apprentice on the shore, debating on whether he could find a cart for the corpse since he knew full well that the town’s surgeon would pay fifteen merlins for an undamaged cadaver and another handful for a drowned soul which had not yet been filled with bloat. He merely grunted when the girl moved, then went on with his day with spoiled ambitions as well as a newly produced scowl. “Hey, hey Jalya, lookit this.” She did not want to look, suddenly remembering with what passion she hated the aftermath of shipwrecks. They rarely ever happened here, she could only think back to a handful, spread terribly thin across her twenty-three odd years of life, and only once did it produce casualties amongst the drifting flotsam. The one time it did meant days of putrescent corpses floating in with the tide in a grim caricature of human beings with their sunken faces and engorged bellies flooding their village with horror at the inevitable task of burying the seamen for nobody else would, the nauseatingly sweet smell that came after felt like it could still suffocate her all over again. “Don’t be so scared, it’s not even a dead one.” The girl-- Tatiana, who looked no older than seventeen said, proud of her deductions. Jalya knew the girl well enough to be teased, though her face still colored at the patronizing tone and wished she had brought her sandal to unleash the bloody vengeance of seniority. Tatiana grinned impishly, wise enough to sidle away at the provocation as she continued: “Your mamam’s a midwife, so she is, so it serves to say that you ought to help.” Jalya examined the girl from the distance of the dunes and immediately dismissed an intervention, taught more than enough by her grandmother to know the subtle nuances of a drowned person and a not-drowned-person, however many nuances there might be. “She seems perfectly fine to me.” “You’re telling me the poor little drowned alley-cat didn’t see what happened, she came from the bleeding ocean so she did! I don’t even recognize her!” An olive skinned boy around the same age of Tatiana spoke, haughty and amused. “That’s because you couldn’t find clams if you tried, so they shut you in with the oven and the lime. The waif’s from the city, at least that’s what Mysaan said when she came trudging through without a greeting of how-do-you-do.” Tired of the quibbling of the ever shrunken group, now just under half a dozen loitering souls with nothing left to do but to bask in the late sun’s heat, Jalya left behind a trail of flooded imprints to meet this apprentice with an instinctive nervousness of finding something new and shiny in a world that rejected most anything that had to do with a foreign city, foreign lands, or even foreign villages not ten miles upstream. As the distance was closed, the vague resemblances were hard to miss, from the same almond colored skin to black flowing hair and which the resemblances stopped. Jalya was dressed in a belted gown and a simple chemise of linen, her face was round and her nose too sharp, but her mouth and eyes watched the apprentice with a singular kind of intensity that belied an intelligence beyond the look and garb of a countrywoman. Now that she thought of it, this apprentice looked more like her in some small way than the people of the city with their whiteness and serious faces. Jalya did not know what to make of that, so she dismissed the errant thought in the forthright way she did with most things that she didn’t want to dwell too hard on. “You’re not allowed to drown here my friend, you’d make me have to fetch a cart from the jadoor and I don’t want more blisters.” There was the introduction, though it seemed to pale in comparison to the kindness in which she was taught to embrace all of the archipelago’s children with, so she added in reference to the buckets: “Welcome to our village, distant as it might be, might we help by carrying your burden?”
  8. Greetings sahib, may your roleplay flow as freely as the wine. I'm always one for a bit of chimney humor, so I'll be waiting forlornly to see your exploits.
  9. Just some background for the mining camp really, I'll toss in a sellsword when everyone's settled but I couldn't help doing a little bit of exposition with side characters. Hope you don't mind. @Walk Among The Abyss
  10. super special agents harlan and ravlouch are on the field, precisely the two men you need to deal with thuggery and irrationally violent jungle lifeforms
  11. Harlan Dupfronte knew it wasn’t the endless rain that flagged his mood, although it seemed a rather tireless affair that drowned the noises of the worker’s bivouacs and which occasionally spilled in from the seams of the huts or tents with their brightly colored fabrics, stretched taut from the rivulets of surging waters. Nor was it the gradually accumulating mud from the dozens of feet that went lo and fro every waking moment, churning up the sodden topsoil and providing more than enough shoveled paste to fill in the dikes of the outer encampment; to prevent even further flooding from the swelling rivers on their perimeter. It wasn’t even the finely dressed man with his silly parasol, a sort of coquettish innocence that belied the ruthlessness all company liaisons were sooner or later disposed towards when the pen failed. He knew precisely what it was that soured his enthusiasm, soured his very intent to stay a moment longer in this monstrously wet purgatory. It was the damp, the ever persisting humidity even on the most cloudless of days. The damp that crept in with the stillness of fog or the showers, the latter of which was enough to cause bedlam at any point in the evening amongst even the most hardened of miners who, knowing what the first droplets precipitated, fled for cover with their tools for the third or fourth time a day. The damp which was a pox upon any decent engineer, as Harlan soon came to re-learn, reading over the daily wastage reports of his precious blasting powder and horse feed. He knew the quartermaster would likewise be fuming over the grains, constituting by far the majority of their rations in which the miners ate, but they could still scavenge at the least. To send for more powder meant weeks or months lost as it all had to be transported from the mainland only to have to struggle across the well-worn footpaths of the island until finally reaching them. All of this was madness as far as he could tell, with the constant interruptions and perpetual disagreements between the corporation and Ulway leaving little headway for actual mining to be done. “I can’t bloody well work like this, telling an engineer to work without powder is like telling cavalry to march without horseshoes.” It wasn’t an idle comment, for they were short on horseshoes as well, whether it was from the rust or ever present danger of wastage; another innocent word for theft by gods know who. Harlan wiped perspiration from his rounded sun-reddened face, his receding hairline and plump black mustache already twitching with the day’s moisture. He wasn’t a small man by any means, with his thick bones and the beginnings of a paunch making the donkey underneath the man look especially small in comparison. “It’d be terribly, terribly convenient if these benighted bastards let me finish the roads to the quay, which we ought to have done bloody weeks ago!” “It’s terribly unfortunate but we still need to observe the proper proprieties, of which there are a great many, with compliments to our hosts.” Ravlouch said mildly, the thin-faced liaison played a stark contrast on his surefooted gelding and silken greatcoat. “With your apologies, to pox with our hosts. An answer was expected days ago from the Ulway in regards to finishing the project and we’re behind as it is with supplies, not that I can blame them with the business they have to navigate.” “By business I presume you mean the footpaths,” came the reply and then a pause as Ravlouch watched with faint distaste at the latest arrival, who was occupied with scrabbling in the dirt for beetles. “I was informed that the natives had no trouble traversing them, indeed, they’ve done so for years without complaint.” Harlan grunted at that, not bothering to disguise his disagreement. “As for the banditry? Some bloody nuisances hit a caravan of mine a couple days ago, but a lad was wise enough to cut the mule tethers and strand the cart.” He tried to hide how pleased he was at the small victory, as the foresight to abandon a fruitless escape with the cart in tow was enough to save most the tools and supplies which couldn’t be carried on foot by the vagabonds. Though to say that he felt apprehension about the next time around was putting it lightly; next time they’d be prepared, perhaps even to kill. “Now we’re missing mules mind you, and nuisances can get nastier. Much nastier. “It may come as a surprise my dear Dupfronte, but you might not know how frugal Haku often is with emoluments for irregular expenditure, however, there are few professions so inundated with the cheaply paid as sellswords.” Ravlouch, having checked on his horse’s bridle to avoid a swarm of children, demurred. “In all their wisdom, after mine and Rubius' humble petitioning for assistance, have been persuaded to discover the funds to employ a few stalwart souls.” Likely explaining the sunset stroll amongst the camp, Harlan had initially assumed so that they could lay eyes upon the sellswords, though he found no evidence as of yet of their unarrived guests and thought it more likely that the liaison was not one to languish in the leaking huts when the ground was solid enough for a jaunt on horseback. He frowned behind his quivering mustache, thinking of pickaxes and the blowing of depressions through the tangled hillocks and vines for his roads, in order to bring a modicum of expediency if not civilization to this bloody weeping isle. It was the duty of the overseers to deal with mercenaries, or the quartermaster, or conceivably anyone except him. However, Ravlouch assured the engineering captain that they were simply having a look at the company’s aforementioned expenditure, for he proclaimed himself an ever inquisitive man who could not abide the monotony of the encampments a moment longer. That was until they caught a glimpse of the shambling monstrosity of mud and sticks otherwise known as Grovel across from them, and all curiosity was expelled from the liaison with an indrawn breath and a muttering of some polite imprecations. He nonetheless forced a tight-lipped smile from underneath his parasol for the sake of any onlookers, forcing the sash of his embroidered coat together against a sudden gust of errant wind. Then came a nearly mute prayer: “By our mother idol and all her suffering saints.” Harlan soothed the mule to a staggering halt with a subdued lift of his reins. “I don’t suppose that you’ve already made good on those emoluments my lord Ravlouch?” He could not even begin to know what to think of these new warriors, and yet all the same was given the distinct impression that this was merely the beginning of what would come to be a long, wet month in this mired jungle.
  12. Vetres [[OOC: Apologies to anyone if I intrude, just finished a couple weeks of work crunch or I would have joined much sooner. No need to involve little old me though, as this was originally meant to be a shorter post but ended up meandering into me practicing my writing. However, you don't miss a ball-- especially not a vampire ball, even if it's just a single post telling people how you committed forced entry.]]
  13. Hi, welcome to Valucre! Hope you like what we've got going on around the site. 💖

    1. Show previous comments  4 more
    2. supernal

      supernal

      Welcome!

    3. supernal

      supernal

      I just took a closer look at your profile picture. I see you like orange flavored electrolyte drink. We’re going to get along just fine 

    4. Vlamymn

      Vlamymn

      I also profess fondness for nocturnal mammals and their similar appreciation for orange flavored electrolyte drink.

       

      I hope we can take this totally normal foundation for a relationship towards a blossoming future.

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