Die Shize

Friends, friendos, I shall update that I shall post this weekend and steer our vessel and our voyage along! WITH OR WITHOUT OUR NEWEST GUEST (I'd tag the riah but I can't find her in the tagging list; oh well she is following us so no fret) Worst comes to worst the riah can join us the next round as we are still in the tavern of course. OK NOW WHO WANTS A BOLOGNA SANDWICH?

Yes but then I held it to the roof of my mouth before swallowing it. Took a few minutes for the screaming to stop. Throat's a tad sore but ehh it's manageable. Thanks!

Today is the 21st day of the 21st year of the 21st century.

The riah is fierce and ferocious but also friendly and funny.

I’m so confused

Ok folks I said a fib. There’s another friendo who will be joining us for a party of five. After they post I will post but my post may not be posted until this weekend. This feels like one of those shindigs where you dance and dance some more and the dance does not stop until the song is over, if ya’ll get my drifty drift? (???)

Are there any aircanoes? I will go aircanoeing with you if you go airkayaking with me. it'll be a zinger

Take your time, friendos

And we're live!

Ambience IC The Old Swift A chill slithered into the tavern like a snake as the entrance gave way and the latest newcomers arrived, pacing toward the promise of warmth and comfort as they escaped the cold of the city to then lose themselves in the mist of patrons. Primera Capitol was no floating ice cube so high in the sky, what with its heated infrastructure, but it was still the time of year to slip on the kind of coat that could brave the biting night. Elgar E. Tosenrun had donned his, the garment like a second skin; brown leather with a fur-lined collar and sleeves full of memories. Even still, sat so close to the door as he was and despite the dancing flames behind him, his old bones just could not keep warm. They need what Nu Martyr’s roads have. He grunted away the fancy before a glass of dark ale met his lips to fill his throat with toasted almond. The door gave way again. That damned draft again. For each arrival to Highcroak Tavern none seemed interested in the lonely old soul keeping to his table. Another night, that would have seemed swell, except tonight he was waiting to receive those souls who had heard his word of a great adventure into the sky to find a city quite unlike this one. Nehalen’s capital was gradually gaining light even beyond the present skies, courtesy of House Chanaril’s cleanup campaign, with peace to follow the Death Commander’s war no longer feeling as cold a hope as winter’s touch. No, those roads aren’t so broken anymore… He trailed off as he gazed out the window, watching snowflakes glide beneath the street light like his hot air balloon beneath the floating island, only to disappear. But they still lead to the same destination tonight as they did last night. While the Duke sought to restore the glory of his city, the aeronaut sought a whole new city. Beyond the kingdoms of Cierno, beyond the mountains in the clouds, there was just one cloud that called the old man’s name. He might try in vain to see it now but he saw it once before and that was enough. Had he been the only one? Did any other living being lay eyes on the wonder in the welkin, or was this discovery all his own? By all rights, it should be, for from no corner of the known world had kingdom or empire or nation or state spread the word of the city on the cloud. It was me. My word. My message. My invitation. So, as Elgar watched the clouds so close yet so far behind a skeleton of streets, he listened for the tavern’s entrance to give way once more, hoping that this time the latest newcomer would recognize his face and place a flier in front of it—figuratively or otherwise.

It’ll be a doozy.

I am very cool with it! You shall be my first choice—along with everyone else! This makes three individuals who have signed up (after rereading I think I got that right). This makes a group of four! YAY! I shall post this weekend.