LastLight

Kick that surgery’s ass.

No problem! I do remember you saying you had something to deal with in April. Wishing you a speedy recovery champ.

I think last round you posted before him so it should be cool!

@Fennis Ursai Mention of forest folk dabbling in herbal substances that altered the mind came off as profound wisdom from Stello's viewpoint. To a degree, he had subconsciously conditioned himself to believe that the old world smith ought to know a few things about the world, considering he was well traveled and sounded like he had been around a great many different types of people during his life time. In his ignorance, Stello perceived druidic individuals to be tree loving radicals that should scoff at the thought of burning plant life away just for a high. In that sense, Lexicus served as a medium for balance, opening up his mind to perceive a wider range of the picture he was looking at. Meanwhile, he nodded in acknowledgment to the explanation of his associates and dismounted on arrival. He approached the door and pulled both of the notes on the door away, smiling at the first and frowning at the second before balling both of them up and launching the crumpled sphere on a smooth arc into a public trash bin. This turned out to be the reason why he was able to see the substance of Lexicus' spirit yield. His uncanny coordination also happened as a result of the diospheric eye and so when he relied on it to get the paper ball where he wanted it to go, he noticed. "Gotcha. So the ox has a mean streak, 'eh? I like him already." If he had known a thing or two about farm animals, he might've endeavored to confirm whether or not the ox was castrated, like most oxen were, and quipped on the contradiction of having a mean streak while lacking testicles. But alas, the opportunity was lost and he pushed open the double doors with a hard two handed shove, peering into the shop again and savoring the moment the scents of his work entered his nostrils again. Perhaps unexpectedly, Stello joined Lexicus in unloading his crafts as soon as he had made way for it. The only times he paused were when it looked like there were specific ways Lexicus wanted to have his wares unloaded and at the thought of selling his stuff, Stello shook his head, "Nah. I mean, it's an honor that you'd let me sell your wares, but that's your work." He paused after they set some of the crates down in the lobby, working to get everything inside. "I guess to make it more of a business relationship, I'll take a piece of your sales. Ten percent. And you'll help me keep the store stocked. Chainmail sells like glitter at a topless bar here." They were hauling the beast ( giant heavy axe ) off the cart when it sounded like there were some details to discuss. It seemed like trouble if Lexicus thought there should be some kind of lull before addressing it. Stello pressed his lips together and shook his head fervently again, "Tell me what's on your mind. I like to nip shit in the bud." @~Harlow. He never thought he was going to get away with talking to somebody like that who was a complete stranger. Any other day, he would have said okay and waved her off, not a single fuck given about the lost business opportunity but she had something he wanted. Unfortunately for her, when he wanted something and he couldn't get it, he usually got angry. His mode of persuasion was seldom gentle, too. Diplomacy existed inside of him but surrounded in a void. A micoscopic island wrapped with a deep unending chasm and no bridges connecting it to the rest of his psyche. Instead, he found it much easier and much more natural to insult another's pride to get them to do what he wanted them to. In the end, it didn't look like his tirade had done anything to convince Harlow that her motivation was inadequate. There was some fight left in her. Waves of logic and reason bottled up in a can struggling to keep an ocean prisoner in its confines. Somehow, the can didn't burst. Something had clicked in her mind, that much he could see. He suspected she had gotten tired of hearing his mouth or, considering the stern warning that she rounded his counter to utter into his face, had decided she wanted to see him regret pushing her so hard. Mention of risks triggered something inside of him. Reason, actually. Oh the irony. The thought of getting himself involved in the kind of trouble that follows you around, the way it followed her, repelled him to a degree. However, in an instant, he crushed the sentiment and overwhelmed it with determination and pride. There was no way he was about to talk trash to someone like that, ask them to gut up and back down the moment he realized that the situation might bite a huge chunk off his ass. In response to her proximity, he leaned in, too, their eyes mere inches apart, "With me aboard the Cloudstrider, I promise you that the only risk you should concern yourself with is the risk of that shapeshifting cream puff getting pulled inside out via its illusory rectum, hear me?" That said, he turned away and headed towards the left side of his counter. There was a cooler there, which he opened and procured two chilled mint flavored mana tea cans out of. One was tossed her way and the other was cracked open with a hiss. After a few long gulps, he angled his eyes with her again, "By the way, I can afford a fleet but I couldn't get a single one of those clods to not leave me stranded on Oo'xora for less than six months before they come around again to bring me back home." Another few gulps and he leaned against the counter again, "So what do we do? I think," he waved his index finger around with the same hand holding the drink, "we said something about mana killing grenades? You know what? Now that we have this whole business thing taken care of, I think it's best I take a look at your little buddy first before I start trying to tell you how to put it on an extended time out."

I-wha-stop . . . I will not confirm or deny these allegations.

This is awesome. It's gonna be great when I add this into the intro post in the hub thread. People can expect to see this flyer hanging in the lobby. Once we're done with the Una quest, I'll have another job in line. Rumor has it that a great historical figure once wrote a book on tea time etiquette and it's hidden in the gaian temple in Ignatz.

@KittyvonCupcake @B2BBear Ioreth's expression of disapproval was palpable. Stello had seen women reject touch before, including his own, but it was usually due to a variation of uncertainty or discomfort. It was different with her. It was less that and more outright distaste, which was separate from discomfort in that it didn't dissuade the behavior passively, but aggressively. If the perpetrator didn't touch anymore, it wasn't as a result of empathy. It was because it was hard not to feel like unworthy trash. If the Leper were a lesser willed individual, Stello could already fathom the feeling of insecurity that must have been gripping his bones as he found himself at the heart of her disparaging glance. In the end, even Stello felt relief when it became clear that there had been no ill intent on the Leper's part. The trade ensued and he paid at least some mind to the mention of what the effects of headless horse radish were, including the way she mischievously described them. He was beginning to come to the same conclusion as the Leper. Though Ioreth wore a cardigan and seemed to indulge in "civilized" amenities, there was nuance of a more traditional individual lingering within. Like there were still sturdy and powerful threads connecting her to the earlier culture of her heritage, which he understood was rooted in the forest among exotic animals and plants. Plants that could be smoked. So facial numbness was a coveted side effect? He'd never be able to understand why people indulged. "Yup, Una, and none of the swords here have demons in them. Yet. Thanks. If you get me anything on her . . . " he stopped to place both hands on his hips after setting Water back down on its blanket, breathing in and out and shaking his head, "I'll owe you big. Speaking of which, what's the charge anyway?" When she evoked her blue flames, Stello angled his eyes down straight at the note and peered deeply into them. For the moment, it looked like he could see more than just the color and the shape of the flares but when it disappeared, he blinked and aligned his gaze with her again, like he thought he had missed something. He was about to inquire when she pointed out his hands. In response, he held them up and glanced at them himself, answering as he perused the scarred knuckles. "Boxing. Healers could have gotten rid of the scars but they're kind of like my tattoos. Where'd you pick up yours?" He had posed the question with great ease of motion, the same sort encountered at a bar full of born-and-raised city folk with a completely modern disposition. He didn't announce it but he did suspect that her markings weren't for pleasure. Maybe not entirely, at least, and he wondered if she would deign to discuss their meaning. The mention of Boom Boom Rhavoni evoked soft laughter and yet another unabashed grin. "Could have been a gigolo name. Odinfield still fights? Feels like it's been a century since I read the story of when Strike Byson bit a piece of his ear off. I'd suggest you have him smoke some of what you gave this guy to get out a few extra rounds but they run drug tests after the match, too." The moment he addressed the Leper, he was reaching across the table for his hat. "Skipping Water? What do you do for a living? You look like a detective or something. Need something more subtle?"

The smaller proximity between his limbs and the water outside the air bubble that alerted Nur to the fact that his time inside of it was running out. He glanced towards Cadmium, watching how he strained to keep the water level up to where it was when abruptly, something hit him. For a moment, Nur was impressed with how the armor held up. If not for that, it'd possible the point would have cleaved him in half, but then there was a flash. He barely had the time to wonder what it was before it went off. Instinctively, he shielded his face and felt the water engulfing him, its violent torrent no longer tamed by Cadmium's influence. He was swept away. Then with gritted teeth and ferocious will, he stuck his hand out and speared it between a wedge of two rocks, fingers gripping with enough strength to snap bone. The initial wave, the one resulting from the moment that Cadmium could no longer hold it in place, was the worst. It washed away the trickles of blood coming from his hand along with pieces of his clothes. Then it started to settle down into its regular flow. Though still powerful, Nur was better able to anchor himself and he could even turn to glance around in search of both his partners. None were in sight. Not even a bugbear remained below, all washed away by the torrent and having been unable to find something to hold on to. It took him a few moments to decide what he should do. There were two options; he could search for the others or he could continue the mission. The vigor still pulsating in his body and mind endowed him with a sense of responsibility. Cadmium would want him to continue, he thought, and so he let go. He emerged on the end of the bridge where the bugbears originally waited and found that some remained. They were assessing, searching downriver, hoping to discover ally or foe. They had left a heap of crates behind, stuff taken from passing travelers and a few recognizable gleams. One crate had some of those explosive bolts inside of it, he could see some poking through the disheveled casing. Nur's pupils dilated and he pulled himself out of the water, making his way for what he identified as their supply cache, what the others would have called it. To keep himself hidden, he pressed up against a tree so shaggy that it had foliage growing starkly from its trunk conveniently placed next to the mound of crates, glancing left and right to see if he had been spotted. Then he moved for the one box that had gripped his attention when the branches overhead began to shift, leaves falling all around him. He glanced up and felt the weight of the tree he had been leaning up against disappear. In shock, he stood and turned around just in time to see the tree itself start to move. Pieces of it fell off and dried mud cracked all across. Shaven bark sprinkled across the floor. When he saw the bugbear's eyes open, Nur knew he'd been had. He had never seen that sort of tree before. Or even one like it in this forest . . . but he had been eager. Bugbears were notoriously unhygienic creatures and due to their hairiness, had a propensity for massive dingle berries, yet the mud fooled him. A large club smashed deep into his abdominal region and sent him careening off the bridge, the box of explosive arrows falling from his hands and hitting the floor. It cracked open. The bolts rolled out onto the floor and the light that manifested from them was nothing but a reflection of the moonlight. The bugbear watched Nur's body hit the water like an errant drop of water and fail to resurface.

Of course it's alright! I feel like it wouldn't be right for them to go their separate ways without her punching him out at least once.

You know, I overthink things sometimes. Dont know what possessed me not to take the picture as the source. I did visit it and then followed over to the night elf article. Then I got lost, probably distracted and here we are, eating overcooked griffon meat.

Srs?! I had to go and look back at how I got that in my head and and can't pinpoint the exact reason. I do remember reading through the night elf article and I'm guessing I missed the fact that their skin ranges from ghostly pale to ink black, as opposed to just ink black, so my bad! If her skin tone was mentioned in any way in your posts, shoot me in the kneecap. I do remember looking through it and trying to do some research before I put that in my post but if I still missed it, I suck. @Fennis Ursai Negative on the dark skin for Ioreth going forward!

@Fennis Ursai Lexicus' analysis of the barefoot, dark skinned elf resonated with Stello enough that he whipped his gaze around and nodded firmly. "Yup," he assured, "Those are the vibes I was getting from her, too. But she seemed damn well at peace in the city though. She wasn't dressed like someone who spends most of her time in the wilds. I don't think druidic folk would approve of smoking, would they?" he asked, keeping his gaze on the other gentleman in search of an answer that might either dissuade or strengthen his viewpoint. "Name of Ioreth. Works fast," he added, recalling the moment she inscribed a loose piece of paper with a message and engulfed it in blue flames. Even with the diospheric eye, which allowed him to detect magic and peer quite deeply into its inner mechanisms, he wasn't able to decipher what had happened to it. If he knew that it had been used to relay a long distance message it was because he read the context. If it had gone back to Book|Ends HQ, it must have happened a lot quicker than if she had hired a courier and sent him on his way. Like before, knowing that someone was going to be blazing a trail behind Una's path filled him with anticipation. His attention returned to Lexicus once the feeling passed. The pause was long enough to let him continue considering what the old world smith was up to. Fortunately, he had the presence of mind to mention that the associates he intended to get a hold of didn't have a hankering for arson. "Gotcha. I'll take your word for it. But . . . " Stello drew in a deep breath and let it flow out into the atmosphere, lifting his right hand and presenting the butcher's shop with a large and prideful middle finger as they rolled past it. "Why dontcha shove it where it belongs!?" The butcher's voice continued thereafter, more vulgarities following as Stello finished his train of thought, “If they’re not so bad, why are you hesitant to get in contact with them? I already made this deal so don’t make the assumption that I’m trying to form doubts about having you at my shop. When I make choices, I don’t go back on them. I ask because it seems pretty clear, though. They’re some kind of trouble for you. Maybe not burn-down-shop trouble but another kind of trouble.” He settled into his seat again and slid the Book|Ends card back into his wallet. Then he watched the road as the Hymn came into view in the long distance. There were two notes stuck on the door that he couldn't make out yet because of how far they were. Looked like someone had visited while he was gone. "When we get to the Hymn, I'll help you unload your stuff and we'll figure out how to we'll put everything on display. The bovine express is welcome to stay at the abandoned lot we were just at. Plenty of grazing to be done there and enough room for a thousand turds. Cart's going to have to stay there, too. Don't worry about it getting stolen though. It's gated property and crime doesn't happen often around here unless your cart drives itself and it pisses off the blue collar folks."

Nope, she has no canon lore and yes, you can come up with a few things on your own. Letting you come up with all of it would be lazy of me though so I'll message you soon with the general outline I had in mind. I plan for it to let you come up with stuff on the fly if you want but stay afloat whenever you refrain. Hope that doesn't sound confusing.

I love video games so much I'm surprised at myself for having never been to any kind of gaming convention to be honest. If Gen Con rolls through close enough I'm gonna start trying to plan a visit. The Leper, retrieval agent at Book|Ends. Has a nice ring. I'll try and throw out a reason for him to tag along that doesn't feel artificial ( I don't always succeed. )