ACF: The Pilgrimage

[align center] **_A Cursed Fate: The Pilgrimage_** [[Begin your journey.]]

[align center] **Interlude I** [continue] A man sits on his knees, his head bent and his hands clasped on his thighs, as though in prayer. He doesn’t seem affected by his surroundings: from the cave’s darkness, the candle on the nearby desk barely making a dent into the oppressive blackness, to the water dripping from several somewheres, making many little rivers across the ground that slowly soak his robes. His feet are bare, marked with thin lines of scars across their bottoms, while his head is covered by a layering of hoods from the several cloaks and robes he’s cocooned himself inside of. The desk is made of light tan wood, and while simply made, it has been sanded and stained with enough care to keep any user safe from its splinters. A matching chair is tucked under it, with a dark cushion to comfort any who may use it. On top of the desk, however, is where everything of interest sits: several parchments rolled and tied, while others are still out and the ink drying; several inkwells with quill pens seated beside them, ready for use; a gold-ish bowl, full of a black liquid sits bubbling towards the front edge; and, perhaps most important of them all, a portrait sits close to the candle, its sides beginning to fray from age and from being handled many times. The man begins to softly hum in his native language, a hymn to calm himself as he sits still on his knees, contemplating what he’s to do. What’s to come next. In his mind's eye, a child's face swims in and out of view... >[[his features still soft and new, not grown into yet.]] >[[her face confident yet shy, unsure of this world still.]] >[[they were already aware they would be different from most others.]]

mche: 'he' mchim: 'him' mchis: 'his' mchers: 'his' -- {embed passage: 'InterludeI'}

mche: 'she' mchim: 'her' mchis: 'her' mchers: 'hers' -- {embed passage: 'InterludeI'}

mche: 'they' mchim: 'them' mchis: 'their' mchers: 'theirs' -- {embed passage: 'InterludeI'}

However, the child is no longer one; the man is dwelling on the long and forgotten past, as this child is now a fully grown adult, coming into {mchis} own as a person. A person he has been tasked with commandeering such a cruel fate, and for reasons still unknown to him. He sighs through his nose and finally makes to stand, his aged bones creaking and his legs so weak from his prolonged kneeling that he has to use his cane to get up from the floor. He limps to the desk and takes a seat, setting the cane against the wall behind him, plucking the portrait from its place and lighting several more candles. He stares at the portrait, looking over $hisher face, considering. His thoughts turn to how the child has grown, what {mchis} life is like now. >[[The child grew up in splendor, and is now the heir to one of the most powerful city-states in the Aomerian Empire.->nobleinterlude]] [if mche == 'they'] >[[They didn't have much as a child, but they've made a name for themself in the Dark Waters Mercenary Company.->mercenaryinterlude]] >[[They were born with very little, and still have barely scraped by into adulthood; their only hope is that their years of thievery will bear fruit as they try to join the Seven Snakes Guild.->thiefinterlude]] [if mche == 'he'] >[[He didn't have much as a child, but they've made a name for themself in the Dark Waters Mercenary Company.->mercenaryinterlude]] >[[He was born with very little, and still has barely scraped by into adulthood; $hisher only hope is that $hisher years of thievery will bear fruit as $heshe tries to join the Seven Snakes Guild.->thiefinterlude]] [if mche == 'she'] >[[She didn't have much as a child, but they've made a name for themself in the Dark Waters Mercenary Company.->mercenaryinterlude]] >[[She was born with very little, and still has barely scraped by into adulthood; $hisher only hope is that $hisher years of thievery will bear fruit as $heshe tries to join the Seven Snakes Guild.->thiefinterlude]] [continue]

noble: true -- Born to the Tyian and Tyiana of Derinstad, the child has bloomed into an adult well-versed in the playings of the court, for better or for worse. The man only wonders if {mchis} sly tongue and knowledge of court and war will do {mchim} any good for the path [if mche == 'they'] The man only wonders if {mchis} sly tongue and knowledge of court and war will do {mchim} any good for the path they're set on. [else] The man only wonders if {mchis} sly tongue and knowledge of court and war will do {mchim} any good for the path {mche} is set on. [continue] He stares only for a moment longer, then places the portrait back and straightens up as the sound of fancy shoes clicking on the stone floors of the cave echoes from near the entrance to his part of the cave. His head slowly turns towards the source, waiting for her to come into view, his stomach churning as the footfalls grow ever closer. He is not one to doom another soul, no… but he has been instructed by his Master to agree to the terms, so agree he will. Agree he _must_. To do otherwise is to blasphemy, and he'd rather slit his own throat than to blaspheme. It'd be a nicer death, at the very least. A tall, elegant woman flitters into view, the candlelight dancing upon the shiny threads of her primly dress. She comes to a stop directly in front of his desk, her hands folded in front of her, the light playing across her cold, pointed features. She’s a beautiful woman, but that coldness in her gaze, that glint unnerves even he. “Good day, Marcos. I’m sure you know why I’m here, as it is.” “Wonderous day, my Tyiana. I know but little, except that you have need of my services?” He plays the fool, careful to not also earn the ire of this woman. He has only so many years left, but he’d like to live them without worrying that one of the most influential women in the Empire is hunting him. Worse yet, hunting him and his fellow Disciples. “Yes, your… services…” she murmurs, then pulls a cloth from one of the pouches on her belt. [[His stomach churns before reaching to take it.->nobleinterlude2]]

merc: true -- Born to a simple farmer father and a baker mother, the child started in the lower working class, spending more time working the grueling farmland and helping grind wheat to flour than in school. [if mche == 'they'] However, when they were in that funny stage between teenager and adult, things changed; they managed to get hired on with the Dark Waters Mercenary Company. Since their faithful recruitment, they have made a name for {mchim}self. [else] However, when {mche} was in that funny stage between teenager and adult, things changed; {mche} managed to get hired on with the Dark Waters Mercenary Company. Since {mchis} faithful recruitment, {mche} has made a name for {mchim}self. [continue] Yet, still the man only wonders if {mchis} travels will have prepared {mchim} enough for the path he is setting {mchim} upon. He stares only for a moment longer, then places the portrait back down gently, careful to not crumble the sides any further. He opens one of his desk's drawers and pulls out a leather vambrace, studded with solid wrought iron. He runs his fingers along the broken-in leather, preparing himself for what is expected of him. What his Master has ordered of him. He is not one to doom another soul, not one that has worked for everything they have, but he is left with no choice. To refuse would betray his Master… and doom himself. He hears soft footfalls approaching, but he doesn’t look up. He recognizes them immediately as belonging to his superior, Valera, likely come to see if the ritual has started yet. “Marcos-” “Yes, mistress?” He closes his eyes, but now he can see her fully. She walks with swift purpose, her head high and uncovered, her dark green robes billowing around her legs and arms. She comes to a stop directly in front of his desk, her arms behind her back, her face void of any emotion. “When will you begin?” “Soon. I was gathering what I would need just now.” “You should hurry. Our Master has spoken, He says the meeting for the job information will occur very soon.” “Of course, mistress. It will be ready before today turns to morrow.” She lingers, staring at him, her face still impassive. He remains calm, for what does he have to fear from her? Nothing. Simply nothing. Eventually, she seems to tire of staring at him, giving him one last thorough look, and starts her trip back to her section of the cave. It’s not until she’s fully gone that he opens his eyes again, and sighs. He pulls the dagger from the ropes tied about his waist, under his cloak, and then a sack of herbs from the other side. There is no putting it off any longer. [[Let the preparations begin.->mercenaryprologue]]

thief: true -- Born to a poor, frail mother barely able to keep any food in her house and an absent father, the child had very little in those first years. Things went from bad to worse when {mchis} mother passed around {mchis} tenth summer, leaving {mchim} to live off of whatever was available to be scavenged, living in whatever abandoned lot was undisturbed or building was least rotted. [if mche == 'they'] Even after meeting a kind soul who has offered them shelter and food for the last half year, they still feel their future lies in the past. [else] Even after meeting a kind soul who has offered {mchim} shelter and food for the last half year, {mche} still feels {mchis} future lies in the past. [continue] Recently, the child has been trying to be accepted into an upstart thief guild in the heart of Derinstad, known as the Seven Snakes Guild. He stares at the portrait for several heartbeats, his own heart in his throat, before carefully placing it back down where it was. His face is solemn, his heart heavy. He is about to doom a soul already so down in the ditches that it believes nothing can be worse. He knows better. He knows, for he’s soon to be the one to make it so, so utterly worse. He reaches into one of the drawers in his desk and pulls from it a beautiful silver amulet. Its braided chain slips easily through his fingers, though the triangular ruby adorning it reflects the light strangely, making it seem filled with blood. It is called The Amulet of Kings, for it was worn by them: the Kings that ruled Aome before its first kingdoms dissolved and was rebuilt into the Aomerian Empire, though few know of that part of history. He lays it on the desk in front of him, staring at it, his skin starting to prickle. While Tyian Donovan had requested he place an anti-thievery hex on it, the true bearer of the request had come from his Master, whose spy had whispered into the Tyian’s ear, helping everything come full circle. A circle to curse a life, seemingly undeservedly. He bites his lip. That’s not for him to decide. No, never for him to decide, and to pretend as such is blasphemy, even if only for a moment. He takes a slow breath in, preparing himself for the grueling ritual he will be performing soon. One that leaves a horrible, acidic taste in his mouth, and a burning in his throat. There are so few things he has ever regretted, but if things end poorly for this one soul… yes. Yes, he feels this will be one of those very few things. No more time for dallying. [[Let the preparations begin.|thiefprologue]]

She slowly unwraps the fabric, until it reveals a bracelet. It’s beautiful, shimmering in the light, and she offers it to him. He carefully takes it from her, then studies it, carefully turning it over in his fingers. It would reach three-fourths of the way around the wrist, and its ends have a ball on each, with the Derinstad symbol of a bear with a sword in its maw. A perfect gift for the heir to Derinstad. “I know you know what I need you to do with it. He wouldn’t have had me come all this way and left you unknowing. Not with something such as this.” “Yes, I am... aware.” He sets the bracelet down in the center of the table, his fingers stiff, watching the candlelight reflect off of it. “Will you be staying while I render what you’ve asked of me? Or would you rather I have a runner deliver it?” “I will be staying.” Her words are final, her words are a command. She is the Tyiana, after all; he doubts anyone has ever told her no in her entire life. Marcos nods curtly, and another chair appears near the desk as he rises from his own. “I understand, my lady. Thy will is my own.” [[Let the preparations begin.->nobleprologue]]

You pick idly at a loose string on your sleeve, slowly unraveling it as the Marquis from Androvyen continues her rant about the coming Pilgrimage and how the pilgrims are likely just a bunch of criminals seeking asylum. Your father sits to your right with a stony face, his hand absent-mindedly swirling his goblet of wine as he apparently listens. However, to your clever eye, you see his free hand’s fingers tapping idly on the armrest of his throne. >[[You find it hard to focus on such useless things.]] >[[Normally, you'd at least try to hear her out.]] >[[It's truly taking all of your effort to keep your eyes open.]] >[[You keep your eyes on your father, awaiting his input.]]

Waiting for that next job feels alike to genuine pain. Usually, you get a job a week, but there has been a bit of a dryspell; you are not sure if it is from the pirates in the waters or the tourists on the streets, but either way, it feels damned _boring_. Even with your high standing in the company, the Dark Waters Mercenary Company, you _still_ have yet to get another job! Your pockets are hurting a little for more coin, and your spirit aches for new adventures. It is even beginning to look like you might have to look _outside_ the Company for work for right now, which is diabolical if nothing else. Several of the fresh bloods are doing it, but for someone of your standing to… yes, desperate times indeed. You could bother Antigone for some work, but putting that on a close friend feels… less than ideal; she has her own problems to deal with, let [[alone your own]].

You huff as you throw another crate onto the stack, sweat dripping down your forehead. Another day of hard labor… but hopefully, one of your last. At that thought, you work harder, wanting this job done. Currently, you are on the docks of Derinstad, doing an odd job for one of the ship captains: loading up the rations for his upcoming trip to sea. Not a bad job and not too shabby pay; you have also worked with the captain before, so he usually pays you a bit extra or gets you a hot meal plus your pay. Not a bad gig, other than the fact your back feels like it is breaking for a few days after. The crates stack well on the far wall of the undercarriage of the ship, and the cool interior of the ship is a relief every time you cart more down. Compared to the blistering sun above, along with the boiling heat, the rat-infested hull of the ship is a godsent. Wiping sweat from your brow, you load the last of the crates, then go find the captain. Knowing him, he’s likely in the dock’s main tavern, The Dockman’s Tavern. You head inside, looking around the one man with bright, fiery red hair and a beard down to his waist. [align center] [[Next.]]

You find it difficult to focus on such useless things. You still haven't figured out how your parents manage to sit upon their throne and hear such nonsensical concerns. To think the pilgrims will be just a lot of criminals and no-goods sounds nearly blasphemous to you. You open your mouth to say just that, but your father finally speaks. {embed passage: 'ladydeveen'}

Normally, you'd try to at least hear her out, but today is not the day for it. The throne room is hot and stuffy, and half the words she's spewed in the last ten minutes have had some sort of bigotry or ignorance dripping from them. You'd honestly rather have to wade through a pond with the slimiest of water plants than have to continue to listen to her. As you open your mouth to interject and stop her from saying any other nastiness, your father finally speaks. {embed passage: 'ladydeveen'}

It's truly taking all of your effort to keep your eyes open. While you will one day be in his shoes, having to listen to this… petty squabbling, you’re not sure you can stomach it yet. Especially not with the throne room being so bloody warm and perfect for napping. You can feel your eyes becoming puffy and heavy, longing for sleep, and maybe she will be too enthralled with her tales of pilgrim debauchery to notice your eyes closing… You jerk awake at the sound of your father's voice. {embed passage: 'ladydeveen'}

You keep your eyes on your father, awaiting his input. Truthfully, you're not sure how to handle Lady Deveen; if it was up to you, you'd tell her to shut her mouth if she's going to continue to be disgustingly ignorant... Yet, she _is_ a Marquis. So, thus, you wait for him. The last thing you want to do is make this into a mess. {embed passage: 'ladydeveen'}

name: 'Orian' -- “I’m sorry, Lady Deveen, but I can’t just simply cancel The Great Pilgrimage over your concerns with little to no evidence. To do so would be practically outlawing the worship of our Gods, and to turn ourselves to heretics under the Crown.” He lifts a brow. “Unless… you are fine with all of Derinstad being labeled as such?” You watch in interest as Lady Deveen's face turns the color of a beet and her eyes grow so large, they nearly swallow her face whole. “My, oh my Lord Donovan, never! I-I would never blasphemy as such-” “But you have asked just that, have you not? To put an end to The Great Pilgrimage is to deny all followers of the Gods the opportunity of safe passage to their Seats in Aome.” He leans back in his throne, his fingers entwining in front of him as he watches the emotions play across her face. “I… I do ask your pardon, my Lord, and I will leave. I have… seen the errors of what I ask of you.” Her voice has lost much of its earlier enthusiasm, and she now fidgets on the spot, seeming to take incredible effort to hold your father’s gaze. “Of course, Lady Deveen. I hope this matter has come to an end?” “Yes, of course, My Tyian. Please, let us never speak of it again.” She bows to him, her head nearly coming even with her pelvis, and quickly sees herself out, your father’s lips curling into a small smile as she leaves. You turn to look at him as he calls your [[name]], "{text input for: 'name'}."

“Quite the lady, isn’t she?” He murmurs, his fingers lightly stroking his short beard. “Are we allowed to ban her from coming back?” You ask hopefully, slumping back in your seat. “Mmm, unfortunately not. She must be allowed to come back… and she will be, come the next Great Pilgrimage. She’s as predictable as a drinking man is to visiting a tavern.” “Alas.” He gives a wry smile at the level of suffering you add to the word. You straighten yourself as you see Alanna come back, accompanied by the next person who needs an audience with your father. Once she’s escorted the man to the foot of your thrones, she bows deeply, throws you a wink, and sees herself back out, her graying hair bouncing on her back as she goes. You return your attention to the man. He’s small, a little scruffy looking, with his dark hair in disarray and his fair-skinned face rather red. Whether it’s from exertion or nerves, you’re unsure. You lift your chin, stoning your [[features.->throneroom]]

“State your name for us, good man.” Your father’s voice cuts the ensuing silence, commanding and sure. You hope you can mirror it eventually… everyone listens when he speaks. _Everyone._ “Irwing Mathers, sire. I-I hate to trouble you, and I hope you can pardon my appearance, I rode hard to get here as quick as I could.” You see your father shift out of the corner of your eye, leaning forward intently. “You needn’t worry about such, good Irwing. What troubles you so to come here in a hurry?” “Someone’s- or somethin’s- slaughtered my whole herd of cattle, sire. I own a farm not far from Derinstad’s own walls, and yet, some blighted cretin has completely wiped out my herd. I’ve got maybe a handful of calves left, sire, but not a mother for any of ‘em.” “I… how many heads are we counting here, good Irwing? How many’s in your herd?” “I had nearly fifty cows, sire, and a good ten bulls. I even found a few of my dogs taken along with them, the poor things. My daughter’s been in an awful state, she’s the one that found the cows and dogs dead.” You immediately look to your father, feeling unease sink into your stomach, like icy water. _Who'd kill so many creatures, and for what purpose? And how in such short time?_ [align center] [[Your father returns your gaze.->throneroom1]]

Your father’s eyes echo the same questions as he shares your gaze, then returns to Irwing Mathers. “I am deeply sorry for the loss of your herd, good Irwing. I’ll send a group with some of my finest hunters, trackers, and whoever else I think can find the source of such a massacre. If you leave your information with the clerk who showed you in, Alanna, we’ll see about getting you more cattle to rebuild your herd, and take it from whoever decided to do such a horrid thing.” The man, Irwing, falls to his knees, tears shining in his eyes, and his clasped hands rise above his head, shaking from the force he holds them together. “Thank you, sire! I owe you my entire livelihood, I do. I won’t never forget this.” “Come, good Irwing, every man deserves his chance to prosper, and shouldn’t lose his ability to put food on the table just because some dastardly fellow decided it so.” Your father rises, his hands reaching out into the air. “Now, go out the door you came in, and let Alanna assist you. I’m fairly certain she’s been listening in, as it is.” As the door opens, revealing Alanna as she struggles to hide a smile, the man rises from his knees as tears still streak down his red cheeks. Alanna comes forward and puts an arm around his shoulders, gently guiding him back out of the throne room. He struggles to keep his eyes on your father while also walking towards the door. “Thank you, Your Majesty, thank you so kindly. I-I… I have to find some way to repay this.” “Repay me by getting back on your feet, aye? Never you worry about repaying me.” You watch him go, still muttering his thanks, until the door closes again, leaving you alone with your father once more. “What sort of person or-or _thing_ would kill so many cattle? Better, _how_ did it? Without alerting a single person,” you think out loud, drumming your fingers on the arm of your chair. “I’ve never heard of something such as this.” “Neither have I, pup, neither have I.” He hums, crossing his arms behind his back. “I believe, however, that you are free to go for the day.” >[["Are you certain?"->certain]] >[["You don't have to tell me twice!"->twice]] >[["Aww, but here I'd hoped to see another Lady Deveen today."->lady]]

"Are you certain? We've only seen maybe ten persons so far." “Yes, but this is a matter I do not want to tarry too long before handling. And you… I do worry about what I may find on my return, should I leave you here to handle it on your lonesome.” He turns to face you, his brows raised high up his forehead, and a cheeky curve on his lips. You scoff. “More like you couldn’t handle the thought of not knowing every happening in your home.” He laughs, deeply, shaking his head. His eyes crinkle as his lips pull into a full grin, showing his white teeth. “Mayhaps you’re right. Either way, off you go. Enjoy your freedom, for now.” {embed passage: 'father'}

"You don't have to tell me twice!" You eagerly vacate your seat, stretching with a loud groan as your father chuckles quietly. "You were just waiting for me to say the word, weren't you?" "As much as I loved entertaining Lady Deveen's ignorance, Da..." You grin at him. "Ah, blasted, you know I hate this part most of the time. It's usually a bunch of whining lords upset by trivial things." "This is true, but you still must hear them out, even if it's to tell them their nonsensical ways are just that: nonsensical." He stands himself, wincing as something undoubtably creaks somewhere. "Alright, off with you. Go enjoy your freedom." {embed passage: 'father'}

"Aww, but Da, I had hoped to see another Lady Deveen today," you sigh dramatically, leaning your face on your fist. "I'm ever so sorry to disappoint, little one, but I must cut you loose for now." He smiles wryly as he stands. "I'm sure we'll see more like her another day, however." "Oh, I know that's true. There's far too many like her." You push yourself up and out of your seat, growing more serious. "Are you certain I can go?" "Oh yes, pup, of course. I want to attend to that last bit of business quickly as I can. Enjoy your freedom, will you?" {embed passage: 'father'}

With that, he turns away and heads towards the right side of the throne room, likely to his office. Leaving you alone in the expansive throne room, the silence buzzing in your ears. You stretch again and look around, consideringly. It’s an enormous room, truly, for it’s also the one that the court of Derinstad has regular meetings in, but on days like today it stands empty… stark and cold. The long, thin windows run in rows of six on either side, their panes stained with imagery relating to the story of Aome’s beginning, while the drapes over them are all royal blue, like Derinstad’s symbol. A large banner sits behind the three thrones, showing the blue bear with a sword in its maw, the said symbol. There would normally be a circle of chairs and desks in the dead center, with your parents’ and your thrones seated at the head, all with matching colors for the wood but the cushions would be different, depending on the sitter’s status. Without further ado, you make to leave the room, heading onwards out of the Keep itself. As you reach the entrance hall, the knights that stand guarding the large, metal, twin doors bow their heads to you. When you come to stand in front of them, one speaks. [if mche == 'she'] "Do you seek to leave the castle, my lady?" [else] "Do you seek to leave the castle, my lord?" [continue] [["Aye, I do."]]

_Brrrrrrghhhhh._ With a loud, echoing groan, the great doors open and warm sunlight pours in from the outer yard.… as does a wave of oppressive, smothering heat. It swipes the very breath from your lungs and leaves you stumbling down the castle’s stone steps, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. “Fine, just fine. The heat… wasn’t expecting it to hit so forcefully.” Your lips pull into a grimace as you glance at him over your shoulder before heading towards the drawbridge that links the Keep to the wealthy district. It's still lowered given the time of day, although you can see several people crowding around on the district's side of the walls. [[You take a moment to look at the said walls.->walls]]

The defensive walls around the Keep tower high over your head, made of dark ashlar. The bridge sits opposite to the Keep’s main entrance, and the walls arc into the air above it to accommodate its length. The bridge itself is made of a dark, sturdy wood, and its chains are made of the blackest wrought iron, shining almost eerily where the sun’s beams reach it. A guard stands on either side of the drawbridge, their helms down and spears standing at the ready. An archer waits at the top of the arch, her leather armor nearly as dark as the chains. Her eyes lock onto you for a moment, before giving a swift nod and turning away to watch outside of the walls instead. Neither of the guards at the bridge’s mouth speak as you pass, but you can feel their eyes stick to you as though glued. You keep your chin high as the other guards and persons on the bridge watch you, some even calling out to you, to which you give a dip of your head and a practiced smile. You don’t relax until you cross the bridge in full, the guards on this side just giving you a quick glance before turning back to the busy streets. You let out a breath of relief as you step out into the wealthy district, even as you pull a rolled hat from your side and move it until it casts a shadow on your features, hopeful that it’ll be enough to keep you from being recognized at a glance. [[The Wealthy District.->wealthdistrict]]

Your heels clack against the dark brick of the streets as your eyes drink in the bustling city. Horses of every color, shape, and height pull at beautifully crafted carriages, some with their wooden bodies gilded in pure gold. Ladies in varying attire from lavish dresses made of many layers of the deepest gem colors to women with more modest attire, but still the finest fabrics form their pants and blouses. The men are similar, some dressing in heels twice the height of yours, and others with their facial hair done in rather elaborate styles. Your eyes move on from the people and their carriages to the buildings, some towering to rather impressive (if worrisome) heights, while others sit at just a single level, but all are decorated finely inside, from the tailors with mannequins looking almost as real as the people walking beside you, to the baker Maxwell, his sign for the bakery iced just like the maddeningly delicious cinnamon rolls he’s known for. You don’t often get to venture outside the Keep aside from visiting the lesser lords with your father or shopping for finery with your mother, so you plan to make this a well-to-do trip. Well. Before you seek out Antigone to pester her for her company after she’s finished with work for the day, that is. "{name}!" You hear someone [[call]].

You turn to confront the somewhat familiar voice. [if mche == 'she'] "Ah, my lady, I wasn't aware you are Lord Donovan were finished with the hearings today." [else] "Ah, my lord, I wasn't aware you are Lord Donovan were finished with the hearings today." [continue] You turn to find your father’s… well, Ser Avery is many things: Commanding Knight of Derinstad, your father’s personal bodyguard (most days), one of the head advisors… the man before you wears as many titles as one does outfits. You offer him a slight bow, which he returns equally. “Ser Avery, it’s swell seeing you. I’m guessing you have returned from the bit of badness with the Outer Reach?” You hold his eyes, though it’s a bit of a struggle to do so; his eyes are a piercing, deep marine, and you almost feel as though your feet have been glued in place by his gaze. [if mche == 'she'] “Yes, ‘round an hour ago. I did a quick wash and wanted to see how things are going at home.” His lips pull into a small genuine smile, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly. You try to not focus on how his left eye twitches as he does, the scar marring its brow the likely cause. “If you’re interested, my lady, I would be happy to escort you around the district." [else] “Yes, ‘round an hour ago. I did a quick wash and wanted to see how things are going at home.” His lips pull into a small genuine smile, causing his eyes to crinkle slightly. You try to not focus on how his left eye twitches as he does, the scar marring its brow the likely cause. “If you’re interested, my lord, I would be happy to escort you around the district." [continue] He runs a hand through his black hair, making his widow's peak stand out against his tan skin. His partial plate armor clangs dully as he moves, mostly covering his chest while his upper arms are covered in chainmail and some leathers on his legs. When his brow rises, you realize he's awaiting your response. >[["Certainly; I'd welcome the company."]] >[[Smile charmingly. "How could one ever turn down such an offer?"]] >[["Thank you, but I'd prefer to travel on my own, ser."->alone]]

You respond with a charming smile. "Ah, but how is one to resist such an enticing offer?" His lips split into a a half-grin. "Well, the hope is one wouldn't." {embed passage: 'seryes'}

"Certainly; I'd welcome the company. This district can be rather... unsavory, at times." "Of course. I will not let anything happen to you," Ser Avery reassures you. "I believe you," you reply with a smile, one he returns. {embed passage: 'seryes'}

seravery: false -- "I prefer to travel alone; but thank you, ser." [if mche == 'she'] "Of course, my lady. Just be safe in your travels." He nods his head to you, and heads on down the street, towards the working district, leaving you alone again. [else] "Of course, my lord. Just be safe in your travels." He nods his head to you, and heads on down the street, towards the working district, leaving you alone again. [continue] You begin your walk down the wealthy district, looking over the numerous shops lining the streets. One catches your attention. >[[Otherworldly Pottery]]

seraveryfri: +1 seravery: true -- Ser Avery steps forward and offers his arm to you, giving you the choice of how you will walk together. >[[Take his arm.]] >[[Refuse, but walk alongside him.]]

armtaken: true -- {embed passage: 'seravery'}

armtaken: false -- {embed passage: 'seravery'}

[if armtaken == true] You place your hand on his arm, his sun-kissed skin warm and slightly rough under your fingers. He places his own hand over yours and nods down the same street you were planning to go down. “Let’s go.” [else] You shake your head at his outstretched arm, though you do notice all the scars lining his sun-kissed skin. He respectfully nods and drops his arm and instead nods down the same street you were planning to walk down. "Shall we go?" "We shall." [continue] You let him guide you down the street, your eyes eagerly drinking in the sights, from the people milling about to the shoppe fronts. On this section of the street, there's the new _The Magical Magister's Bookstore_, which boasts of the largest collection of literature for the magically-inclined and other, rarer documentations in the world, as well as magically-enhanced items; there's the side-alley that'll lead to Maxwell's bakery, and even at this distance, you can smell those delicious baked goods in all their glory; and thirdly, there's a wizened person outside a rather small, almost cottage-sized building, their clothing and hands covered in red clay as they spin what seems to be a vase on their wheel, their lips pulled tight in concentration. Where will you go? >[[Maxwell's Bakery.->bakeryavery]] >[[The Magical Magister's Bookstore.->booksavery]]

"I'd like to visit Maxwell's; I heard he has something new that I keep hearing the servants whisper about." "Maxwell's it is, then; Gods know I'd love one of those damned cinnamon rolls." "Oh, absolutely." The two of you cut across the street to get to the alley, and follow it until it leads you to the front of Maxwell's. Your stomach is already rumbling from the delicious scents passing out the open windows, but you still take a moment to look at his shop. The sign above the store is a giant, iced cinnamon roll, with another color of icing writing "Maxwell's Bakery" over it. The bricks to his shop are also a light beige or tan color, while the inside is decorated with warm colors to go with the season. He usually changes the decorations out too, and as you step inside, you find a great painting of Beretyn's symbol opposite to the entrance. There are even blooming flowers and little bees exploring around the symbol, making it a rather pretty depiction of summer. Perhaps it's also why the bakery is far cooler than you'd thought it'd be, with the ovens and whatnot. _Perhaps the symbol won some favor from the God of summer._ While the bakery is quite filled with people, most are seated and already enjoying their goods, and it makes your trip to through the waiting line a swift one. [align center] [["Welcome to Maxwell's!->bakeryavery1]]

The new bookstore that had just recently opened, _The Magical Magister's Bookstore_, which boasts of the largest collection of literature for the magically-inclined and other, rarer documentation of the world. You're not quite sure how they were allowed to open shop here (given the Empire tends to believe that magic is to serve man and to be used for as little as possible), but, still, you'd like to at least see what the store offers. “Let’s go into the new bookstore, shall we?” [if armtaken == true] You gently tug him towards it, and he changes course towards it, albeit a little hesitantly. [else] You nod towards it and start to head to its doors, and he eventually moves to lead instead, albeit a little hesitantly. [continue] “You’ve barely been out of the Keep for ten minutes and you’re already considering heretic ideation,” he sighs, shaking his head, “whatever will Lord Donovan think of me going along with it?” >[["What're you on about?"]] >[["Hardly heretical to look at books, Ser Avery."]] >[["Father let them open up here, no?"]]

"Welcome to Maxwell's! How can I, Maxwell, assist you today?" Maxwell greets the two of you, his normally fair face a shiny red. His blonde hair is pulled away from his face, although several locks of his bangs have fought their way out. [if mche == 'she'] Before you can speak, however, it dawns on him who you are. "Oh, my, Ser Avery, you've returned home at last! And our very own heiress is traveling with you! Why, this is a pleasant surprise!" [else] Before you can speak, however, it dawns on him who you are. "Oh, my, Ser Avery, you've returned home at last! And our very own heir is traveling with you! Why, this is a pleasant surprise!" [continue] [if mche == 'she'] "Yes, not long ago. Our beloved heiress seems to also have a sweet tooth, and I do hope you can oblige us?" Ser Avery gives a charming smile, one that Maxwell flusters over a bit, his face changing a shade deeper of red. [else] "Yes, not long ago. Our beloved heir seems to also have a sweet tooth, and I do hope you can oblige us?" Ser Avery gives a charming smile, one that Maxwell flusters over a bit, his face changing a shade deeper of red. [continue] "O-Oh, of course! I'd love to be of service! Will it be your usual, sir? A cinnamon roll with extra icing?" "Of course. Imagine the sour bastard I'd be to get something different after being away for nearly two months." Ser Avery begins to dig in his coin purse for the money, while Maxwell turns his attention to you. _[[What will I order?]]_ {dropdown menu for: 'pastry', choices: ['cinnamon roll', 'blueberry muffin', 'chocolate cream roll']}

"I'll take a {pastry}, please," you inform Maxwell. "Splendid! Splendid, indeed! Excellent choice, if I say so myself." Maxwell gives a hearty laugh and moves to the display case, no doubt kept nice and toasty by a heat rune somewhere underneath. [if pastry == 'cinnamon roll'] "Well, I'd hope so, given you _are_ known for making the beat in Derinstad." "I'll second that; be a damned mess to have your sign a cinnamon roll but be shit at making them." Maxwell flushes a bit more at Ser Avery's words, but nods all the same. "Oh, indeed it would be! Thankfully," he laughs as he places two plain ones on plates before you, then grabs his can of icing. Your mouth waters as the smell of cinnamon, sweet bread, and something else just as enticing enters your nose. "Thankfully, I'm very good at making them, yes indeed." You look over to Ser Avery and find his eyes locked onto the rolls, looking as if he may devour the whole counter along with them. [if pastry == 'blueberry muffin'] "Oh, of course! You're just in luck, as it be." He shuffles over to the display rack and slides it open, bending over as he does so. "We jus' got a fresh shipment in from the South late last night, so this batch was made with the freshest blueberries I've ever gotten to work with." "Well, do consider me _incredibly_ excited to try it, then," you respond with a laugh, but you _are_ excited to try it. Fresh blueberries, with Maxwell's cooking? It's bound to be delicious. You pull out your coin just as he stands again, his hand now filled with... goodness, a rather huge muffin. His big hand can't even fit around it fully, as it's nearly the size of the cinnamon roll Ser Avery paid for. "Gods Above, that's a big ass muffin." Ser Avery stares at it, his brows slightly furrowed. "No wonder the knights love the damned things." "You flatter me, sir! I come from a town where we never want someone to leave hungry, even if they only order a simple muffin." His lips pull into a great big smile as his cheeks flush some. "I do hope you both enjoy." [if pastry == 'chocolate cream roll'] "I'll take a chocolate cream roll, please." "Absolutely! Give me jus' a moment." Maxwell shuffles over to a holding tray adjacent to the display rack. There's several wrapped loaves on it, and you watch him get one off of it, unroll it to reveal a long chocolate cream roll, and then take a knife to cut a rather large portion off. "Quite the sweet tooth, eh?" Ser Avery asks, one of his brows rising. "I enjoy a good chocolate baked good, is there something wrong with that?" "No, of course not. After all, I'm the one getting another helping of icing on my roll." "Ah! Here we are." You turn your attention back to Maxwell as he sets a generous portion of a chocolate cream roll on your plate, then takes what looks to be a gravy boat... and pours a smooth, liquid chocolate over the roll. "Yes, can't forget the chocolate icing." [continue] With your plates in hand, you follow Ser Avery to a secluded table where the two of you may eat in [[peace.->bakeryavery2]]

He finds one, in a far corner. You take the seat in the corner itself while he moves the table around so he can sit to your left, with the wall to his back, and the door in sight. You sit your plat down on the table, pick up one of the two rolled napkins that hold the utensils, and eagery take the first bite. [if pastry == 'cinnamon roll'] It's absolutely divine. It's sweet, especially with the icing and the cinnamon and sugar in between each layer, but there's a saltiness in the dough that only enhances the flavors. You take a second bite and can't help but let out a soft noise at the taste blooming in your mouth. Izzy's desserts are delicious, but nothing beats Maxwell's cinnamon rolls. _Nothing_. Ser Avery seems to agree as he lets out a similar noise, his eyes closed as he savors it. Given he was away for nearly three months for your father, you'd imagine the cinnamon roll must seem like the best thing he's tasted in ages. You make quick work on the cinnamon roll, trying to make sure that none of the delicious but sticky icing doesn't make it onto your clothes. [if pastry == 'chocolate cream roll'] It's delicious, oh so delicious. The cake part of the roll has a lovely chocolate and almost coffee-like flavor, while the cream is a semi-sweet chocolate and fluffy in your mouth. The icing adds a stronger chocolate flavor, along with some kind of liquer but you're unsure which. Either way, it's amazing. It completely melts in your mouth, from the soft cake to the cream and icing, and truthfully, you feel some sadness when you finish it. While you'd love another slice... you shouldn't. Not with how your head is buzzing from the sugar. You look over to Ser Avery as he polishes off the last few bites of his cinnamon roll, his eyes closed as he savors every bite. With how long he was away... well. You've no doubt it must taste as divine as the ambrosia the gods dine upon. [if pastry == 'blueberry muffin'] It's so _soft_ but spongy, too. The blueberries still have some juiciness to them, adding a pop of flavor in your mouth. It's a muffin, simple and ordinary, but even as a simple muffin it holds so much flavor and deliciousness. It doesn't take you long to devour the entire thing, leaving only crumbs. Ser Avery is still steadily eating his way through the cinnamon roll, and looks as if he's savoring every bite, his eyes closed and face contemplative. If you were away for several months and likely unable to eat a single sweet thing, you'd probably savor it so fully as well. Only a few minutes pass before he finishes, leaving only a small amount of that extra icing and a few crumbs of his own behind. [continue] [align center] [[Next.->bakeryavery3]]

It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and say something, clearly still savoring the roll. "Did you enjoy it?" "It was delicious. Every single bite of it." "Good to hear, Maxwell rarely disappoints. Would hate to have to tell him he disappointed someone so important." His lips pull into a wry smile and he folds his napkin and tosses it onto the plate. "Are you ready to leave?" You nod and stand, doing the same with your own napkin as he did with his, and you wait for him to reach the door to escort you out. [["Hear ye, hear ye!"->seraverymeet]]

"Hear ye, hear ye!" Your head whips around to look for the source of the loud voice. “Hear ye, hear ye! I have news from The Crown herself! Hear ye, hear ye!” Further down the street is a crier, his face such a deep red it resembles a peeled beet. People crowd around him, and with a look to Ser Avery, you find you're not the only one curious as to what the Empress has decreed. He leads the way to get closer, using his stature to push through a few persons. It takes only a glance to his face for them to lose their annoyance as he pushes by. Once the street is at a near stand-still from the crowd, the crier finally gives his message: “By order of Empress Yvarlna, all citizens of the Aomerian Empire are to be wary of strangers for this next moon, as several reports of activity from the Black Rock Guild have been reported. For those unaware, the Black Rock Guild is the largest collection of miscreants currently in existence, and while they originate from the lands south of Aome in Murkwater, it has been long known that they have agents everywhere. “The reason for this mass activity is unknown, but the Empress is investigating it as I speak, but She expects all citizens to be aware themselves, and to report any suspicious persons to your local Tyian or lesser lords.” The crier’s chest heaves as he takes a great sip of water, and you watch him as you turn the words over in your mind. Black Rock Guild, known but not, home of only the best assassins and thieves in the waking world. Dangerous as they come, that lot; the few times you’d ever heard whispers of them in the court led to ladies fainting and men turning as pale as one who’d been emptied of all their blood. Tis not something to proclaim lightly, and unless they were truly amassing in a worrying way... Well, the Empress is not known for making light assumptions. [[You wonder if father has heard this yet.]]

[if armtaken == true] "What're you on about?" You question as he pushes the gold-gilded doors open for you with his free hand. [else] "What're you on about?" You question as he pushes the gold-gilded doors open for you, and holds them open so you may enter. [continue] He shrugs nonchalantly. "Just interesting how the heir to Derinstad is interested in a shop selling items not far from heretical ideology, tis all." You raise your brow at him. "If you say so." You turn away from him to examine the store's interior. {embed passage: 'bookstoresa'}

[if armtaken == true] “Hardly heretical to just simply look at books, Ser Avery,” you quip as he pushes the gold-gilded doors open for you with his free hand. [else] “Hardly heretical to just simply look at books, Ser Avery,” you quip as he pushes the gold-gilded doors open for you, and holds them open so you may enter. [continue] “And, father did let the store be opened, so surely it cannot be as heretical as you seem to think.” “Perhaps my lord did not think his only heir would be at risk of falling prey to their ideals?” When you glance at him from the corner of your eye, you see a small smirk forming on his lips, but pause before answering, long enough to look over the store’s interior. {embed passage: 'bookstoresa'}

"Father let them open their store here, no? Surely, he would not let anyone into the city that he felt was a heretic or worse." [if armtaken == true] "Oh, of course not. I just think it walks the line of being such." He holds the gilded doors open with his free hand, and you pass through them swiftly, with him just behind you. [else] "Oh, of course not. I just think it walks the line of being such." He pushes the gilded doors open for you, and you pass through them swiftly, with him just behind you. [continue] "Mayhaps, but there is harm in assumptions." You turn away from him and instead take in the interior of the store. {embed passage: 'bookstoresa'}

It’s beautiful, as far as a bookstore goes. The center of the store is taken by a large, circular bookshelf that reaches from ground to ceiling, ever turning somehow. There’s a second, open floor, with a pair of metal stairs leading up on either side of the room to its dark wood shelves that leave no visible wall space. You watch in awe as the books fly from the circular shelf to the customers leaning on the railing as they call for it to give them a book they are searching for. The lower floor is no less magnificent. The buying counter is made of fine red onyx marbling, as is the floor under your feet and no doubt the second floor’s flooring, too. There are a few shelves here, but these ones are behind black bars opposite to the door, with a small, hairless man at the counter just in front of the bars. There’s also sizable table to your left that holds many trays of bookmarkers made of varying materials, sizes, and shapes, and some even have prints upon them, from words of affirmation to little animal and previous ruler portraits. Across from this one is another matching table, yet the items atop it are fairly different: it's covered in mostly cube-shaped items. The sign over it reads “paperweights”. You look closer at the cubes, and realize what they are: some are flowers and other little creatures encased in a clear resinous material, while others are made from varying types and colors of rocks or gems, with little scenes carved into them. One that particularly catches your eye has a little bear carved into it, a fat fish clutched in its maw, with two cubs scrambling around its feet. On the other sides of the cube you can see, the cubs grow up and take the mother’s place of holding the fish in their maws. Lastly, you take a moment to look at the few remaining but smaller tables. One holds varying trinkets, from amethyst-colored hourglasses to short cuttings of twine with gems and shells attached meant to be used with the bookmarkers to even little magical artifacts, some of which you recognize as magical page criers. The other two tables hold nothing yet, just place cards with the words _“Coming Soon”_ written in large, loopy cursive. [align center] In short, it's [[magnificent.->bookstoresa1]]

"I don't know, Ser Avery, I don't believe heathens would choose such a fine place to be. They're usually cave-dwellers." "I suppose it has some kind of charm," he answers dully. As you look at him out of the corner of your eye, you swear you see him pick a piece of lint off of his pants. “Do you detest being here so, Ser Avery? Should I ask if you’d rather wait outside until I finish looking around?” “Never you mind my detesting or lack thereof; I’ll simply pretend I’m a walking tree, unable to speak for the remainder of the time here.” “Well, come along, sir walking tree, I would like to look at the many tables before we both begin to petrify.” You tug his arm lightly, and he allows you to lead the way towards them as your eyes move over the many, many items adorning them. A particularly vivid paperweight catches your attention. Inside of its clear resin sits a maiden, with flowers decorating her brown hair. A lyre lays on her legs, and a bottle of wine with an accompanying glass sits on the grass next to her. You can’t help but to carefully pluck it from the table and hold it closer to your eye for further inspection. “How did they get such precise details on something so small?” You half-whisper to yourself, turning the cube in your hand slowly. “I heard whispers of some sort of needlework, with dye stored in the needle itself,” Ser Avery comments, his dark brows quirked. “I thought it sounded like lunacy, but what do I know of dye and needles?” “Needlework, creating this?” You scoff, shaking your head as your eyes stay glued to the tiny figure inside the cube. “Lunacy, as you said. However… it is rather lovely.” You turn it in your fingers again, before solidifying your decision. [[You turn to look at the books.]]

You place the paperweight back down and instead consider the books the store may have. Sure, there's the upper story with the several shelves of books, but your true interest lies with the ones behind bars across the room. Books that would likely be the only ones in the store that'd hold the "heretical" knowledge Ser Avery seemed so worried for. [if armtaken == true] You lightly tug Ser Avery's arm in the direction of the caged books. "I believe your center of 'heretical knowledge' will be there," you point, having to use actual effort to not grin. "So, I shall want to see what exactly they keep back there." "Of course you would," he grumbles, but he leads the way, shaking his head as he does. [else] You start towards the caged books, curiosity peaked. Ser Avery follows, his voice just behind you as he asks, "What're you doing?" "I'm on the hunt for this 'heretical knowledge' you seem to think would be in here." You give him a look over your shoulder. "If there were to be any fascinating heretical knowledge, it'd be back there, no?" He grumbles to himself, but he stays in stride with you on the way over. [continue] The little hairless man looks up as you reach the counter, his dark beady eyes staring at you intently. You can't tell his age, as his pale skin has wrinkles but not as much as you've seen elders have nor as few as one over their thirtieth summer. "Might I help you?" "Yes. I' curious to know what exactly you hold in that cage back there?" He blinks slowly. "They all do," he says so quietly, you barely hear his words. "We offer books of all sorts, of nearly anything imaginable. Fully detailed guides of what creatures roam our world and their distinct features. Plants of all sorts, what ones will kill you and which will not. Most books in the cage have enchanted pages, allowing their detailed drawings seemingly come to life, or for the words to recolor themself should you need specific things to stand out." "Why are they in a cage?" Ser Avery questions, his lips in a line. "What exactly is so worth protecting?" [["Why, the magic in them, o'course."]]

"Why, the magic o'course." He swipes his hand over his sagging head, licking his lips. "The enchantments, the highly specific and detailed information in each of these books here. A thief of even the shittiest skills could steal a couple of these and make enough to pay for they food if they hawk 'em right." "Ah. So, it's to keep out thieves. Understandable." "Would hope so. The bastards are like a bloody illness in bigger cities. Can't risk it." He clasps his hands together, watching you both closely. "Now, what can I do for you?" "Just browsing, for now," you respond with a polite smile. "O'course, just holler if you need anything further." You spend a little longer looking at the rows and rows of books, before deciding it's time to leave. "Shall we go?" "Yes, thankfully," Ser Avery comments as he leads the way out of the bookstore, post haste. [["Hear ye, Hear ye!"->seraverymeet]]

Whispers roll through the crowd as the crier breathes heavily at his stand. Heads bend to their neighbor, and a look unsettled dismay is worn by nearly everyone. But not Ser Avery. No, his face is dark, like when a summer storm is rolling in and about to nearly flood out the barrens. "We should leave," he whispers quietly, his other hand coming to rest on his mace. He pushes his way through the crowd, leading the way out of the crowd, as it begins to wake and spring questions upon him. He pulls you into a side alley as others pass by, the lot of them now daring to speak slightly louder. "What do you make of that? The announcement, I mean. I can't help but wonder if Father is aware yet." “I think it was a grave mistake that The Crown ruled against hunting the Black Rock bastards down and putting them all to the pyres,” he nearly hisses, his lip curling. “They’re so worried about a war that they’d let those bloody curs run rampant through the rest of the world.” >[["You'd put them to burn?"]] >[["All crimes aren't equal..."]] >[[Give a noncommittal response.]]

"You'd put them all to burn?" You ask carefully, setting your face to something like simple curiosity. His lips pull into a dark smile. “Lovely, I’d be the one to drag them from their holes, tie them to the wood, and set it alight myself.” “Rather bloodthirsty, no?” “For a lot of cretins that’d cut your throat for the fun of it?” He snorts. “I think I’m rather reasonable.” You struggle to find something to say, but thankfully, you're not forced to as a loud bell toll cuts through the air. Antigone will be getting off of work soon. [["That reminds me."->sa2]]

"All crimes aren't equal... what of the thieves? You'd kill them?" "Ah, lovely, only someone of the court would find much difference in crimes." He smiles wryly. "I'd burn them all, because in the end, they're all in the same bed together. They eat, sleep, shit in the same hole. That makes them equal." "I don't know..." You look at the sky, and realize Antigone will be leaving to work soon. [["That reminds me."->sa2]]

You give a noncommittal noise, unsure of how you feel about the lot of it. Black Rock Guild is full of terrible people... sure, some may deserve a pyre, but all? Hmm. You look up at the sky and make a realization: it's nearly time for Antigone to go to work. [["That reminds me."->sa2]]

"That reminds me. I have a spot of business I need to attend to. You're welcome to tag along, of course, should you want to." His abrupt change in conversation isn't entirely unwelcome after the awkwardness before, but at the same time... "What sort of business?" "As much as I would _love_ to tell you all my personal business habits, I will not. It'll be only a few minutes, however, should you wish to come." When you narrow your eyes, he only raises his brows and one side of his lips quirks upward, waiting for you to respond. Should it not take too long, you'd be able to spend a little more time with him before meeting with Antigone. What'll you do? >[[You can't guarantee how long it'll take. It's time to go see Antigone.]] >[[You can spare a few more minutes. Go with him.]]

"As unfortunate as it may be, I have my own business to attend to; I'm meeting my close friend before she goes to work today." "Ah, that Antigone Beetle, is it?" "Quite! My best friend." "So I've heard. Well, be safe on your way to the merchant's district, aye?" "I will. Good luck on your duties, Ser Avery." "Thank you, same to you." And with that, you part ways, to find [[Antigone.]]

seraveryfri: +1 whorehouse: true -- "Fine, Ser Avery. I will accompany you, as I'd hate to lose your oh so cheerful companionship." His head tips back as a laugh rips from his chest, a true laugh, full of mirth. When he is able to calm himself enough to look at you, he has a genuine grin on his face, making his eyes crinkle. "Ah, lovely, I think very few would have complaints of my companionship. But, come, let's get this sordid deal over with; I can practically hear the damned gold in your coin purse begging to be spent on frivolous things." You let him lead you down to the main road again, your eyes still drinking at everything in sight. "I daresay I shudder to think of the company you normally keep, Ser Avery." He chuckles as the two of you cross over into the working district, made for those who earn their living but are still wealthy enough to hold good housing. "Oh, my lady, I think it'd scare you right of your underthings if you ever did." You scoff, shaking your head. "I was born at night, but it wasn't the past one. I have seen many a man and woman, and I doubt my underthings would ever be in danger should my poor eyes ever have to gaze upon any who enjoys spending long hours with you." "Laughable, given you seem to still love your father, and he is the man I spend the most time with." You narrow your eyes at him and his mocking grin, his dark brows rising halfway up his forehead. "Not the only man I spend my time with, but he is the only one I usually keep my clothes on with, at least." “I’m- you-” You fall over your words, stopping in your tracks as smaller, alley-like road appears with poorly made buildings comes into view. You try to get your brain to both process his words and some kind of comeback. Any comeback, other than your lips flopping like a fish’s. But, but… you are not used to anyone being so… blunt with you. No, many would never dare say such things in your [[presence.]]

“I- who do you think you are, to say such things? I have no interest in knowing who shares your bed!” You feel your face flush further when he laughs. “My fair lady, I only spoke of clothing. You are the one to make it about my bed and who shares it.” Somehow, you manage to feel embarrassed, on top of every other emotion currently mulling its way through your body, and it doesn’t help when a teasing tone enters his voice. “What would my Lord think, to know his child thinks of his Commanding Knight in such ways? Tsk, tsk. Or, better yet, what am _I_ to think of such things?” You feel trapped in your own skin as he leans in close, his eyelids lowering, as does his voice, sounding almost like a cat’s purr. “Is this your way of saying you were pining all this time? Hmm?” >[["Pining, maybe not, but you're certainly easy on the eyes."]] >[["I- no-" You flush from forehead to chin.]] >[["I don't think I like this conversation."]] >[[You raise one brow, daring him further.]]

seraveryfri: +1 -- He roars with laughter. "Well, well, at least you're honest." "I do my best." {embed passage: 'seraverymeet1'}

seraveryfri: +1 -- But, for whatever Gods’ forsaken reason, your eyes lower to his lips, so close to your face you can feel the warmth of his breath when he speaks. His lower lip is fuller, but both look soft… inviting. Your eyes flicker away the moment he leans away, his shoulders lifting with silent laughter. {embed passage: 'seraverymeet1'}

"No, you certainly don't seem to be enjoying it," he comments, his eyes twinkling. "I'm glad you're having such a good time of it," you huff. {embed passage: 'seraverymeet1'}

"Oh? You speak so highly of yourself, ser. One must think you in love with your self, in all actuality." He roars with laughter. {embed passage: 'seraverymeet1'}

[if mche == 'she'] “I will stop, my lady, for now. I have no interest in being too late, nor do I want to give you the wrong impression.” [else] “I will stop, my lord, for now. I have no interest in being too late, nor do I want to give you the wrong impression.” [continue] "The wrong impression?" You repeat questioningly. “Ah, the one where you believe me to be flirting with you.” You tug your eyes away from the dirty cobblestones to watch him from under your lashes. “I… you weren’t?” [if mche == 'she'] He scoffs. “Of course not. I know my place, even though I may not always act as if I do. I was a lowborn bastard given a chance to raise myself above the other bastards, but even here,” he gestures to the surrounding buildings, “and even while I don this,” he nods to his chestplate, bearing the symbol of your home, “I am still a bastard. And no bastard is to touch such a high-standing noblewoman, such as yourself.” [if mche = 'they'] He scoffs. “Of course not. I know my place, even though I may not always act as if I do. I was a lowborn bastard given a chance to raise myself above the other bastards, but even here,” he gestures to the surrounding buildings, “and even while I don this,” he nods to his chestplate, bearing the symbol of your home, “I am still a bastard. And no bastard is to touch such a high-standing noble, such as yourself.” [else] He scoffs. “Of course not. I know my place, even though I may not always act as if I do. I was a lowborn bastard given a chance to raise myself above the other bastards, but even here,” he gestures to the surrounding buildings, “and even while I don this,” he nods to his chestplate, bearing the symbol of your home, “I am still a bastard. And no bastard is to touch such a high-standing nobleman, such as yourself.” [continue] His voice is colder, absolute. You can’t see his face, but his lips are in a slight frown, and his brows are drawn. He believes the words he speaks, as if they are rules to live by… rules _he_ lives by. “That sounds… rather harsh, towards yourself especially, Ser Avery.” [if mche == 'she'] “Harsh is how life outside the Keep’s walls is, my lady,” he replies, a bitterness in his voice now present. “It is the way of life inside the court, as well. I hear from my Lord about your hopes of marrying for love… you needn’t listen to anything else I’ve said or will say, but my lady, should you pick a commoner like me, even one of my status now, you will do nothing but doom you both.” [else] “Harsh is how life outside the Keep’s walls is, my lord,” he replies, a bitterness in his voice now present. “It is the way of life inside the court, as well. I hear from my Lord about your hopes of marrying for love… you needn’t listen to anything else I’ve said or will say, but my lord, should you pick a commoner like me, even one of my status now, you will do nothing but doom you both.” [continue] You shudder as his face turns to you, his eyes strange, like… blue flames. Twin blue flames narrowing in on you, pinning you again, but this time with such a weight of seriousness, it makes you take pause. “We’ve also arrived. I’ll be back out [[shortly]].”

[if armtaken == true] He gently removes your hand, at bitter odds with the look and tone of voice he just had, and turns to one of the nicer buildings you’ve seen in the part of the working district he’s led you to. [if armtaken == false] He gives you a wry smile, and turns to one of the nicer buildings you’ve seen in the part of the working district he’s led you to. [continue] Its roof is painted black, while the walls are made from carefully carved logs. It rises to at least three levels. A sign swings in the breeze just above the door, and written on it says: _Alice’s_. Outside of the door stands multiple women and men, clad in fine clothing… yet much of their skin is showing, scandalously so. Several of both call out to Ser Avery as he passes to reach the front door, although he gives them barely a glance as he enters the… well. You’d have to guess it’s some sort of tavern. As you wait, you notice many men and women coming and going from the place, many with their clothes looking highly disheveled, while others are so taken from drink that they either stumble or fully find themselves face down on the cobblestones at least twice before leaving your sight. You can’t help but feel an itch of curiosity as you wonder why Ser Avery, the Commanding Knight of Derinstad, would have business in what you guess is a den of [[debauchery]], as you’ve heard some servants call them. You haven’t truly figured out the meaning of such, and given they spoke of them in hushed tones and secretive giggles, you had decided it was definitely not something to ask anyone for a meaning of the phrase.

Yet… it definitely seems to fit this place. You certainly wouldn’t speak of what you’ve seen here without whispering, and you’ve only seen the outside. Part of you… wants to see the inside, to spy on what exactly Ser Avery is doing in there. However, this is likely not a place you should be seen in, should you decide to go in. You carefully pull your hood around your face, tucking it carefully to keep as little of your face visible as possible, then start towards the door. The steps leading up to it are rather steep, and it quickly begins to make sense how so many drunken fools fell down them. As you pass the men and women outside, you hear… some things you wish you could _unhear_. “Hey, lover! Can I interest you in a trip through _Alice’s_? We got things to keep you wet all night!” “One lay with me, honey, and you won’t even wanna go home to that husband!” “I was told havin’ a wicked tongue won’t do me any favors, but I ain’t ever heard a complaint yet!” You feel your face flush up to your ears as the catcalls echo within them, and you send up a silent prayer that none of them turn such words upon you. You are thankful that you reach the entrance without too many issues. One of them did notice you, but when you gave no response, he quickly moved onto a woman on the street behind you instead. You feel your stomach squeeze in on itself as your hand wraps around the knob, and you pause to take a steadying breath. Then, you turn the knob, and open the door. Well, more like _shove_ the door open; it's much heavier than you were led to believe, and it takes digging your shoulder into it to get the damned thing open. And once it _is_ [[open…->debauchery2]]

You feel as if your eyes may just fall from their sockets as your eyes open wide. Topless women and near-naked men carry drinks and food to tables, while patrons laugh and get on merrily. A band plays along the far right wall, and you’d actually appreciate the way they carry a tune if there wasn’t… so much else to focus on. Feeling extremely overwhelmed, you try to find Ser Avery. It doesn’t take long, either, not with how his chestplate reflects the chandelier’s light overhead. He’s got his back pressed to the bar, his hands perched upon it, as a rather beautiful woman presses herself against him. Her face is next to his ear while one hand rests on his neck, and the other, his chest. He has half a smile as she continues to press closer to him- You let out a whoosh of breath as you’re practically thrown aside by someone coming in behind you. You knock into one of the women carrying drinks, sending them flying. She curses while you right yourself, and while you lean on the wall next to the door to keep from crashing to the floor, you hear a familiar laugh. Your eyes find Ser Avery, his eyes dancing as he stares at you. The woman has pushed away from him and instead is also staring at you, concerned. Feeling absolutely beside yourself, you storm out, out and _away_ from this tavern of horrors. You run down the steps, nearly falling twice, and you continue to run down the alleyway even as you hear Ser Avery yelling for you behind you. You run until your chest hurts, until your legs burn, and the streets go from dirty and unkept to at least maintained. You come to a stop just outside of the market where Antigone’s family does their business, bent at the middle with your hands on your knees, gasping for each breath. Everything burns and aches, but the worst of all is your pride. Stupid son of a bitch. How your father puts up with the man is beyond you, but you’d rather eat a bowl of glass and metal shavings before having to deal with him again. “Foul, [[pigeon-brained]], son of a-”

“Foul, pigeon-brained, son of a- Urgh!" You stomp your foot, and forgetting all about your meeting with Antigone, you set off back to the [[castle.->averyantigonemeet]]

You come back to yourself as you pass into the Keep, your shoes’ clacking too loud, too harsh in your ears. There’s a low rumble of activity, but you spy no one as you make your way through the entrance hall, then up the first set of curving stairs. You meet no one still until you’re nearly in your quarters, and your favorite servant, Isetta, is just leaving as your hand reaches for the door. She jumps, yelling, staring at you rather bug-eyed as her hand presses to her chest. “{name}! You scared the soul out of me!” “I’m sorry, Izzy,” you apologize, putting your hands up, “I didn’t realize anyone would be in here right now.” “Gods above, you need to make noise or somethin’ next time, please.” "Yes, ma'am." Her eyes narrow. "You look like the heat's gotten to you a bit. You should clean up and rest, yes?" "That's what I was planning to do, yes ma'am." "Good." She pats you on the arm as she passes you, leaving you in your [[room]].

You turn to the Merchant District, and head that way, hoping to catch her before she leaves to work her parents' stand. You walk along cobblestone roads, passing people of all varieties; this is where the docks are as well, so visitors and business folk alike usually stream in from here. You let out a loud curse as you stumble over a rock, nearly breaking your ankle. "Gods be-" “Such words from such a lovely mouth,” tuts a familiar voice, soft and feminine, yet filled with amusement. “Whatever would your father think if he knew of you speaking so in public?” You crane your head to see Antigone smiling down at you, her pale features lovely under her black parasol. She has her white hair hanging over one shoulder in a loose braid, while her lips are stained a dark shade of pink. Her pink eyes jitter as she looks over your still bent form, making your own eyes feel a little odd trying to keep up with them. "Listen! Tis not my fault the damned rock tried to kill me!" She rolls her lips inward as you stand proper again, her shoulders quaking with her laughter. “How ever do you get into these situations, {name}?” "Well, if you'd like, I can protect you from further harm of vicious rocks by offering a nice [[lunch.]]"

You turn your attention to _Otherworldly Pottery_. Several pots, plates, and decorative vases sit lining the shelves on the inside. You push your way through the door and enter, eyes wide as you take in everything the shop has to offer. You visit the vases first, as they are closest to you. Some are as small as coins, while others are nearly as tall as you. Some have holes throughout them, you suppose for decorative reasons or perhaps for some types of garden plants. There's even ones with colors you have never seen before in your life. You move to the bowls next. Some are quite large, like serving bowls for food. Others are only big enough to fit on your pinky. They range from being meant for food to more decorative, including eccentric designs. Lastly, you look at the plates. These ones have the most interesting designs of all, to you. From roses painted in perfection to ivy vines to even ones with the Derinstad symbol of a sword in a bear's maw. The paintings are beautiful. But, alas, you have reached an end of items to peruse, and with sadness, you leave the store. [["Hear ye, hear ye!"]]

"Hear ye, hear ye!" Your head whips around to look for the source of the loud voice. “Hear ye, hear ye! I have news from The Crown herself! Hear ye, hear ye!” Further down the street is a crier, his face such a deep red it resembles a peeled beet. People crowd around him, and with a simple look around, you find you're not the only one curious as to what the Empress has decreed. Once the street is at a near stand-still from the crowd, the crier finally gives his message: “By order of Empress Yvarlna, all citizens of the Aomerian Empire are to be wary of strangers for this next moon, as several reports of activity from the Black Rock Guild have been reported. For those unaware, the Black Rock Guild is the largest collection of miscreants currently in existence, and while they originate from the lands south of Aome in Murkwater, it has been long known that they have agents everywhere. “The reason for this mass activity is unknown, but the Empress is investigating it as I speak, but She expects all citizens to be aware themselves, and to report any suspicious persons to your local Tyian or lesser lords.” The crier’s chest heaves as he takes a great sip of water, and you watch him as you turn the words over in your mind. Black Rock Guild, known but not, home of only the best assassins and thieves in the waking world. Dangerous as they come, that lot; the few times you’d ever heard whispers of them in the court led to ladies fainting and men turning as pale as one who’d been emptied of all their blood. Tis not something to proclaim lightly, and unless they were truly amassing in a worrying way... Well, the Empress is not known for making light assumptions. [[You wonder if your father has heard this yet.->father2]]

You hope he has, so when you get back to the castle you can speak to him of it. You look to the sky, realizing it's nearly time for Antigone to be gone to work. You should hurry if you want to see [[her->Antigone.]] before hand.

You let her lead the way, walking by her side through the crowds of people. Many bow their heads when they recognize you, while others whisper and look between you and her. You choose to ignore it. You sigh as the Dockman's Tavern rises above you, a humanized merwoman's statue staring out over the horizon from its roof. It's a well enough place, with good food and entertainment. "You really do love this place, don't you?" she laughs softly as she pushes open the door with ease, then shuts her parasol once she's safe under its roof. You step in behind her, your eyes roaming the earth-colored walls, adorned with various but matching threadworks. Some depict the ocean outside, lapping at the dock and the harbormaster's quarters, located inside the lighthouse just outside of the main walls. Another shows symbol of Derinstad, hanging over the reception desk. Its threads are touched with metals, making them shimmer in the light, and as you move to pass it, the colors seem to dance into different shades, like some of Antigone's beetles' wings. "Of course I do," she finally answers as the two of you pass through a set of glass doors and on into the dining area, littered with a few sailors and lesser nobles. The tables are made with dark wood with cream-colored table cloths, and matching chairs. She pulls you to a corner near the door, and she gives you a toothy, genuine smile. "We've had plenty of meals here, and I used to come here with my Gran before she passed. Plenty of good memories to relive here, with my two favorite people." >[["Am I number one or two?" You tease.]] >[["Ah, your Gran was a fine lady. I still miss her like the dickens."]]

"Mmm, considering moving you to number three." She pretends to consider it, scrunching her nose as she looks over the menu. "Given your current predicament, I'm not so sure I want to be in the crossfire." "Oh please," you scoff as you wave over the server, "you love being in on any gossip and scandals that may or may not be happening. I still remember the Spring formal, where you stayed close to watch that fool Count Deneers try to make an impression." She giggles, and it takes all your willpower to not giggle with her. "Twas not to be unexpected! The man quite literally split his pants when he was dancing with you. What else was I to do?" "Yes, and you proceeded to laugh your arse off so much so that you knocked us both over. Our first meeting, and it was because of your love for making fun of noblemen." "Well, someone has to." The server arrives at the table, her uniform crisp and a polite smile on her lips. "Hello, welcome to the [[Dockman's]]. What can I get for you two?" {dropdown menu for: 'lunch', choices: ['onion soup', 'berry compote and bread', 'baked chicken and mashed potatoes']}

"That she was," Antigone replies sadly. "I miss that old bird. I hope she's happy in the Everlife." "Me, too. She more than earned it, dealing with you father all those years." "{name}!" "It's true, it is not? He's a right grouch of a man." You raise your brows, daring her to deny it. She giggles, a pale hand hiding her lips. "Yes it's true but you simply mustn't say such things. Whatever will we do if he catches wind?" "Tell him to lighten up and throw an oil lamp at him." "_{name}_!" The server arrives at the table, her uniform crisp and a polite smile on her lips. "Hello, welcome to the [[Dockman's]]. What can I get for you two?" {dropdown menu for: 'lunch', choices: ['onion soup', 'berry compote and bread', 'baked chicken and mashed potatoes']}

"I'll take a spiced wine and a bowl of onion soup, please. Also, may you bring bread and butter along with it?" [if mche == 'she'] She nods, still smiling. "Of course, of course." She turns to you, looking expectantly. "And for you, my lady?" [else] She nods, still smiling. "Of course, of course." She turns to you, looking expectantly. "And for you, my lord?" [continue] [if lunch == 'onion soup'] "I'll have the same, please." [if lunch == 'berry compote and bread'] "I'll have the compote with some sweet bread, please." [if lunch == 'baked chicken and mashed potatoes'] "I'll have the baked chicken breast with mashed potatoes, please." [continue] "Excellent! I'll have your drinks in just a mo', and when your meals are ready, I'll have them out as quickly as I can." "Thank you so much, it's most appreciated," Antigone replies in turn, giving her a gracious smile back. The server nods and her smile becomes more genuine as she leaves to the kitchens. Once she's gone, Antigone's smile fades somewhat. "I wonder how few times she hears that in a day." "I'd say the sailors say it every once in a while, but the noblemen…" You shake your head. "About as likely as them thanking their servants." "It's awful." "It is. Not much we can do about it, not yet." "Yet? Are you planning to try to change things when Derinstad is eventually yours to lead?" Her voice is lightly teasing, but her face is genuinely curious. You nod slowly, but don't answer yet as you see the server coming back with the glasses of wine and the loaf. Her face is a full smile as she sets down the drinks and the cutting plate on which the loaf, butter, and a bread knife sits. You both thank her again as she leaves, and you know you need to answer now, as much as you hate to. "Mayhaps. Some things need to change. Many things. The world will continue to change, and I don't want to sit idly by and pretend we shouldn't change with it, like the rest of these ancient mouse-brained fools." She meets your eye, her face closed. It's strange, given she's usually so easy to read, but now… It feels like you're being examined, much akin to when you were in school and under the eye of the headmistress. A pregnant moment hangs in the air, until she finally speaks. "I believe you, you know. I believe you could make changes, for the better." >[["I... thank you."]] >[["It's just the truth; we need changes."]] >[["What about you?"]]

You feel a little nervous under the intense stare she's watching you with, before her face softens again and she offers a small smile. "What did you do today? Before I found you half-dead in the market, that is." You sigh dramatically, slumping in your chair. "Ah, woman, why do you torture me so with these unkind reminders?" "Oh, hush you, and answer me." {embed passage: 'fathermorn'}

"If the world stayed the same always, we'd never make improvements for the people living in it." "I agree wholely; we can't let the world stagnate. If we do, things will just worsen rather than get better." "Exactly, exactly." "What did you do today? Before I found you half-dead, that is." You sigh dramatically, slumping in your chair. "Ah, woman, why do you torture me so with these unkind reminders?" "Oh, hush you, and answer me." {embed passage: 'fathermorn'}

"What about you? Do you want to make changes?" "Of course. I want a lot of things changed, for the betterment of everyone." She smiles sadly. "Especially people like me, who need special care." "That's fair, Antigone. That's completely fair." "What did you do today? Before I found you half-dead, that is." You sigh dramatically, slumping in your chair. "Ah, woman, why do you torture me so with these unkind reminders?" "Oh, hush you, and answer me." {embed passage: 'fathermorn'}

You grin as you straighten up, taking a sip of your wine. It's quite delicious; it's nicely warmed, and the spices leave a taste in your mouth akin to sweets only baked at holiday times. "It was a hearing day, so I spent most of the morn with Father, trying to settle the more difficult issues plaguing the people." You deflate a little as you recall his mention of suitors coming soon, for the Summer ball. "He also mentioned having to wade through more suitors during the Summer ball. I dread it, truthfully. I wish I could avoid all the painful formalities and meetings with men and women I know I'll never say yes to." Antigone is quiet for longer than she should be, but when you look up her expression quickly changes. You're unsure of what her face was previously portraying, but now she smiles, though her features look a bit pinched. "It may be fun, you know. Would you like me to come along with you? I'll gladly laugh out any other fools who show their face there." "Well, _of course_ you're invited. However else will I get through the evening? Small talk?" You lean your elbows on the table, furrowing your brows. "I hate trying to force a conversation with a stranger I haven't a single interest in. D'you know what I mean?" "Absolutely. I'm glad we didn't have that problem." You glance over to her and find her eyes glazed, clearly remembering your first meeting again. "Er, well. Things are a bit different with us, however, hmm?" Her laugh is a bit too high-pitched, but before you can comment on her odd behavior, the server is back and clattering the [[bowls of delicious food]] down with silverware to go with. "Here we are! Please, I hope you enjoy it."

"Thank you kindly!" Antigone beams to her, and she returns it, her face flushing slightly before she nods and leaves. Antigone quickly lifts her spoon and stirs the melted cheese through her soup, then inhales deeply. "Ooh, this smells amazing!" [if lunch == 'onion soup'] You follow suit, breathing the soup in yourself. It smells heavenly, honestly; the Keep always has delicious meals, but… sometimes, having something simple is so much better. You cut off a hunk of bread, slather it in butter, then plunge it into the soup. Your impatience grows as Antigone lets out a moan after taking a rather large spoonful of the onion soup, but you wait. It's so worth it, the slightly sweet and salty flavor of the onion soup paired with the buttery bread, and the bits of cheese clinging along as you bite into it… it's absolutely divine, especially after having such a small breakfast this morning. [if lunch == 'berry compote and bread'] You follow suit, breathing in the smell of the ooey gooey berry compote. It smells sweet yet spicy; clearly they've added some spices to compliment the mix of berries as well. Honestly, the Keep always has delicious meals, but… sometimes, having something simple is so much better. You cut off a slice of your sweet bread and use a spoon to scoop some of the compote out onto it. You take a bite of the steaming berry goodness as Antigone lets out a moan from her onion soup. It's simply divine. Sweet, yes, but there's some spice of nutmeg and cinnamon mixed in to enrich the flavor. The bread is nothing to knock either; it's made with banana and another fruit, adding to the complexity of flavors you're tasting now. It's the best meal you've had all day, especially after such a small breakfast. [else] You can _smell_ the deliciousness of the chicken, mixing with rosemary and other herbs that have been ground and rubbed onto the breast, making it delectable and simply delicious. You cut a small piece off, and find it mouthwateringly glistening; the breast has been cooked to still be juicy inside. You take a bite and moan at how good it is, just as Antigone does from her own bowl of onion soup. While the Keep always has delectable meals, sometimes something simpler is just better. You take a bite of the mashed potatoes next, finding them oozing with butter and more herbs. Simply divine, especially after your meager breakfast. [continue] “Mmm, mayhaps there is a reason you continue to [[drag me here]], after all.”

“As if you had any doubt,” she scoffs, but it’s somewhat muffled around her spoon. “You can dine on those fancy feasts you’re used to, but your kitchen staff doesn’t make food the same way the ones here do.” “Hey! A bit harsh. To be fair, the kitchen staff cook whatever Mother tells them to, how ever she tells them to. Tis not their faults.” You shudder thinking about a few things that’ve come out of the kitchen in the more recent months. “Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I’d say Mother is trying to poison us.” “I won’t speak ill of my Tyiana, but…” Antigone shakes her head, her lips pursing. “She does seem the type.” “Oh, I know. I’m well-aware.” You sigh as your spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl, your appetite starting to sour. “And, worse yet, she’s been growing near unbearable this past year. She keeps trying to have me go with her ‘hand-picked’ suitors, and when I find myself uninterested, she lashes out and refuses to speak to me for days after.” “Does your father not say anything about this?” Antigone’s voice is full of disbelief and she drops her spoon with a small clatter. “That’s- it’s horrible.” “He says it’s just due to the stress she’s feeling as a mother, trying to make sure I find a match sooner rather than later. I’ve told him it’s hogwash, but… he didn’t take it particularly well.” You move around the dregs of the soup with your spoon, fully done with the idea of eating. “Are you finished? Would you prefer we talk about something… a little lighter?” She nods and stands, but then looks outside. "Oh, bollocks! I need to get to the shop!" "Oh, no! You'll be late!" "Don't worry about it, Ma will understand. Here, let me-" "No, don't even try; I'll pay for it, you just go." "{name}, really, are you sure?" "Absolutely. Go on ahead." >[[She gives you a hug.]] >[[You give her a hug.]] >[[You usher her away.]]

antigonefri: +1 -- She gives you a quick hug from where you're sat, then bustles out of the tavern. {embed passage: 'pay'}

antigonefri: +1 -- You stand to give her a quick hug that she returns, then she bustles out of the tavern. {embed passage: 'pay'}

You usher her on, not letting her dally any longer. She lingers for a moment as if she has something to say, but seems to think better of it, and leaves. {embed passage: 'pay'}

After she goes, you put the coin needed to pay on the table, alongside a tip for the waiter. Getting up, you head back to the castle for the [[evening.->averyantigonemeet]]

Hmm. ‘Room’ is not a good word for it, not compared to what Antigone would call a room, you’ve come to learn. She would call your ‘room’ a wing, or even potentially a floor to a normal house. It holds four rooms, plus a living space. Yes, you could fit her house inside of your ‘room’. Hell, your bath alone has a whole room to itself, along with your toilet, two mirrors of differing sizes, and wash basin. Speaking of, you start shedding clothes as you make your way to the said bath, eager to get the sweat-soaked things off. When you reach the door, you’re already down to your undergarments. The tile floor is nice and cool under your overwarm feet, and you find the lanterns in the bath already lit for you. You sigh as you drag yourself over to the wash basin, you grab the sides of it, and lean in to peer into the mirror. The first thing you see is your [[eyes]], the color of {dropdown menu for: 'eyecolor', choices: ['emerald', 'sapphire', 'topaz', 'onyx']}.

Your {eyecolor} eyes shimmer back at you. You move on, looking over your mussed {dropdown menu for: 'haircolor', choices: ['brown', 'black', 'red', 'blond']} hair, {dropdown menu for: 'hairlength', choices: ['very short', 'short', 'shoulder-length', 'waist-length']} in length. Then, it’s your skin itself you look to, perfect and unblemished. Right now, however, there’s a sheen from sweat on it, shining in the light from the lanterns. You look tired as well, but whether it’s from your travels or the heat, you can’t tell. Not that it matters, either. You turn away from the mirror and approach the tub. On the top of the side adjacent to the wash basin is an inset of runes, meant to call water and change the temperature of the water called. You lightly tap on them, and rather quickly, water begins to flow into the tub. Steam rolls off of it, buffeting your face. You use your other hand to grab a bottle from the side, unscrew its lid, and let the fragrant oil pour into the water until its smell reaches your nose. You lid the bottle and set it to the side. Once the water’s reached the level you want it, you remove your hand from the runes, and slip the rest of your clothes off before submerging yourself in the bath. The hot water burns into your muscles and skin, and you sigh in relief as the water fully covers you. [if whorehouse == true] Hopefully that damnable knight won't be at dinner this evening. _Hopefully he won't be. Please, gods, let him not be there._ >[[Your thoughts turn elsewhere.]] [else] >[[Your thoughts turn to Antigone.]] >[[Your thoughts turn to Ser Avery.]] >[[Your thoughts turn elsewhere.]] [continue]

Antigone. Her pale features swim into your head as you massage your scalp, the way her lips curl into a wicked smile every time she gets ready to tease you. Totally normal thoughts to have of your best friend. Right? Thinking about how soft her hands must be, how they might feel massaging your scalp... _Enough._ {embed passage: 'bath'}

Your thoughts turn to Ser Avery. He's dashingly handsome, and was sweet, for the most part. You grab the soap to use on your skin, and the errant thought of how his hands would feel doing it instead fill your brain. Those darkly tan, callused hands... _Enough._ {embed passage: 'bath'}

You finish your bath, still smiling, and climb out. You tap the rune to start draining the water as you grab two towels, one for your hair and one for your body. You start towards your bedroom as you dry yourself, your feet slapping almost ridiculously loud in the quiet of your quarters. ou let your towels fall in a heap and move to your first armoire, and get dressed. Once you’ve done so, you brush your hair, check your appearance, and go to check the time. Based on the dayglass set on your living room’s table, you’d wager you’ve roughly an hour left before dinner will be served. You go to your bookshelf, pick up a book, and begin to read for the time you have left. [align center] [[Some time later...]]

Your thoughts turn elsewhere, as you begin to soap up your body. From the Keep, to what you overheard today... but overall, it was a good day. {embed passage: 'bath'}

You nearly jump out of your skin and let out a yell when a sudden, loud knock comes at your door. “Dinner is ready, my lord! Your parents are waiting in the dining hall.” “Shit, shit, shit,” you curse as you throw the book and light rune aside, quickly getting up. You sprint to your quarters’ door, throw it open, and hastily get yourself to the dining room. Mother, Father, Mother’s assistant Maybury, and Ser Avery are already waiting for you when you arrive into the dining room, a feast waiting. [if whorehouse == true && mche == 'she'] He would dine with us after earlier, you think, your appetite souring some. You do your best to look anywhere but him as you take a seat to your father’s left, while Ser Avery sits at his right. The man usually skips dinner, but tonight of all nights, he decides to actually come. You could strangle him. Well, no. You couldn’t. But you’d like to. As you begin to fill your plate, the knight speaks. “Running a little late, are we, my lady? Is everything alright?” When you glance at him, you find a small, tiny little smirk on his face. A smug one. You watch him for a moment, as he sips his wine, and his brow rises on one side. “I’m fine, thank you,” you answer in a clipped tone, before placing food on your plate. You can feel your father’s stare on you as you slowly eat, but you don’t dare look up now. “If you say so, my lady.” [if whorehouse == true && mche != 'she'] _He **would** dine with us after earlier_, you think, your appetite souring some. You do your best to look anywhere but him as you take a seat to your father’s left, while Ser Avery sits at his right. The man usually skips dinner, but tonight of all nights, he decides to actually come. You could strangle him. Well, no. You _couldn’t_. But you’d like to. As you begin to fill your plate, the knight speaks. “Running a little late, are we, my lord? Is everything alright?” When you glance at him, you find a small, tiny little smirk on his face. A smug one. You watch him for a moment, as he sips his wine, and his brow rises on one side. “I’m fine, thank you,” you answer in a clipped tone, before placing food on your plate. You can feel your father’s stare on you as you slowly eat, but you don’t dare look up now. “If you say so, my lord.” [else] You nod to the ser, before taking your seat. "Good to see you again, Ser Avery." "You as well, my Majesty. Did you make it back to the castle safely?" "Yes, of course. But thank you for asking." [continue] [[Dinner is a quiet affair.]]

Dinner is a quiet affair. Well, at Father’s end of the table. At your mother’s… there’s a soft buzz of conversation between her and her assistant, no doubt planning your outfit and discussing the suitors due in a week. You’d rather eat one of the nails from the public bathhouse and toilet. The moment you’ve finished, you ask to be pardoned, stating you’re tired after the day you’ve had. On your way back to your quarters, you feel a set of eyes on you the entire time… and you already know who they belong to. As you close your quarters’ door, you let out a long sigh. You look over to the dayglass, and realize you should sleep if you hope to get anything done in the morning. You pull off your clothes and get into bed, but sleep doesn't come easily. You toss and turn for sometime, even with the luxuriousness of you bed. At one point, you get up and throw open the window, to hopefully let in some breeze in the stifling heat. Climbing back into bed, it does seem to help, as you eventually fall asleep sometime late in the night. [align center] [[The morning comes.]]

You wake at some time in the morning, as a rather shrill bird sings from your bedside table. You groan as you crack one eye open, watching the blasted thing peck at pieces of jewelry sitting out. You swat a hand at it and it takes off, cursing at you in its shrill bird language. “Bloody birds,” you grumble as you slouch into a mostly sitting position, wiping the sleep from your eyes. You take a moment to wake yourself, then slip out of bed to stagger to the bathroom. You do your business, then splash cool water over your face, gasping as you find it much colder than you’d first thought. You hover over the wash basin, your face dripping, as you grope for a towel, and pat your face dry with it. After that, you put the towel on the edge of the basin and move to your vanity. Sitting on top of it, in a box of blue velvet, is a solid silver bracelet. Moonstone, emeralds, and sapphires line the little braid on the top of it, the design others would see. It’s not a fully closed bracelet, rather, it’s more of a three-fourths design with small knobs enclosing the ends of either side. There’s also a note set against it, and as you pick it up, you read: _Darling, I’m sorry for being so distant recently. I know a physical gift is not much, but this bracelet is one I had designed just for you. I hope you enjoy it, as it’s also charmed for success._ _Mother_ You scoff but pick it up, watching the natural light from the sole window play across the gems’ smooth surfaces. It is a beautiful bracelet, but she’s right. A physical gift isn’t much. But for whatever reason, you still slip it onto your wrist, which it fits snugly to, and then go to get dressed for the day. The last thing you want is to be late to breakfast, too. [if seravery == 'true'] As you enter the dining hall, you’re relieved to find Ser Avery is not there currently; no doubt, he’s gone back to his usual routine of eating alone, most likely in his room in the Keep. You take your seat next to your father, who gives you a tired smile, until he notices your bracelet. [else] As you enter the dining hall, you find it mostly vacant, aside from your father. You take the seat next to him, giving him a bright smile that he answers with a more tired one, until he notices your new bracelet. [continue] “Ah, little one, where’d you get that?” He asks, gesturing to it. “It’s a gift from Mother.” You look down the table to her as you say it, watching her smile slightly and nod. “Yes, I thought you’d look absolutely stunning in it, and it seems I was right. You should look your best, for everything happening soon.” It takes all your will to not roll your eyes, and to instead give a forced smile. “Of course, Mother. You’re right.” Thankfully, the conversation is interrupted by Izzy leading a parade of other servants in, their arms full with the breakfast platters. “Your Majesties, break of fast can now begin.” “Thank you, Isetta,” your father says kindly, smiling, to which she grins and dips her head before throwing you a wink, then heads back to the kitchens. The moment you go to reach for your food… something happens. You feel slightly dizzy, the world seems to distort before your eyes… before it all goes back to normal. You look around, apprehensively, looking for some dark mage or necromancer to be in the shadows somewhere, casting a spell upon you. However… you find nothing of the sort. There’s no monster watching you from the eaves of the Keep, nor from behind anything in the dining hall. Strange. _[[Mayhaps I need more sleep.]]_

Shaking it off, you finish piling your plate, and dig in. You try to focus on your meal, but you still catch yourself glancing around, still nervous of whatever had happened just previously. As you finish your food, you set the plate aside and turn to your father. “Da, is there anything planned for today?” “No, not that I know of, for you anyway. I have some plans to look over, and your mother will be busy planning the upcoming suitor visit and summer ball. Why do you ask?” “Ah, I was planning to spend the day with Antigone, if I can.” “I don’t see why not. Good folk, that Antigone. Comes from a good family. And you should have friends, little one. You’ll need them when you take my place.” “Excellent! I’ll leave-” You can’t finish your sentence. Not as burning hot, white pain erupts on the right side of your face. You scream in pain, and when you jerk away from the table, you end up sprawling to the floor. You can’t hear anything, feel anything, not over the pain that seems to be burning into your skull, bursting through your eye like an iron just taken from a forge. A few breaths, and it’s gone. No, not gone, but the pain lessens greatly. You find yourself bent over on the floor, your shaking so hard from the effort to not touch your face. Hot tears have splashed to them and the floor, visible now that you’re able to see again. "Avo's breath, {name}, are you alright, pup?" You can feel his hands gently wrapping around one of your arms. >[["I don't know!"]] >[["No! I'm not!"]] >[[Let out a soft cry.]]

"I don't know! I- I-" You grab his hand for dear life as you look up at him, tears still pricking your eyes. {embed passage: 'pain'}

"No! No, I'm not! Something is wrong, I don't understand-" Tears still pricking your eyes, you turn your attention to him. {embed passage: 'pain'}

You let out another soft cry as more pain shoots through your face. You feel your father's hand on your chin, gently turning your face. {embed passage: 'pain'}

“Oh, by the gods, what’s happened to your face?” He yells, his fingers gently touching the skin on the right half of your face, near the source of the pain. You feel nausea roll into your stomach, and a hand has wedged into your insides, twisting them in its iron grip. “Why? What’s wrong with it?” “I… you’re… you’re marked. Amberlain, send for that man who deals in curses, that Marcos man! Immediately!” His voice is full of panic, his eyes glancing from your face to your mother in quick succession. “Yes, of course, Maybury, go get him. Now,” she hisses to her assistant. The woman quickly flees, her shoes clacking loudly on the stone floor. “What’s all the yelling about? What’s going on?” Comes Ser Avery’s voice, along with the sounds of heavy boots on the floors. You look up to him as he crosses the hall from your father’s wing of the Keep. “I- Avery-” Your father splutters, gesturing to your face. The knight looks from him to you, and his lips turn into a snarl. “What the hell is on your face?” “What’re you both talking about? What’s on my face?” You feel panic rising like bile in your throat. Ser Avery moves behind you, grabs a [[clean silver platter]], and offers it to you.

As you look into it, you can’t stop your gasp. There’s now a royal blue mark over your right eye, almost like the eyes of gods found in the pyramids south of the Adarlywn’s lands. It outlines your entire eye in a thick line, with the one on your top lid curving up at the inner corner until it touches your brow, while the lower lid curves at your outer corner and looks something like an upside down question mark on your cheek bone. _What in the name of the gods is **this**?_ You voice your thoughts aloud. “What… what is this? What’s happened to me?” “Marcos will know. He has to.” You can’t tell if your father is trying to reassure you or himself when he speaks, but he helps you back up, your head still feeling funny. He turns you to him, his hands gentle on your shoulders. “Listen, little one, I need you to stay in the Keep. For your safety, in case this person who did this to you decides to linger in Derinstad. Please.” “But Da-” “No, no buts. Nothing matters more than your safety. The Keep is going into lock down until Marcos comes and tells us what’s happened to you.” His hands leave your shoulders, and he turns to Ser Avery. “Avery, I want Isetta questioning every servant on if any strangers have been in the Keep without our knowing. I also want you to warn the knights and other guards.” “Yes, sir. Immediately, sir.” Ser Avery spares you a single glance before he’s off, running as if he’s not currently weighted down by at least fifty pounds or more of gear. You watch his back for a moment, before turning back to your father, who still stares in the direction Ser Avery left in, his eyes unfocused. You could still try to argue with him, demand you be allowed to leave the Keep, but you know when a discussion is over. You know when he won’t let you sway him any other way. Not when your safety is at risk. So you leave the dining room and head directly to your room. It’s like your body is its own being between the two places, and you allow it until you’re entering your bath, and you cross the distance to the [[mirror]] yourself.

The mark around your eye is still there, but you can see it more clearly now. It shines in the light, something that you didn’t notice before. A metallic sheen. You wet a washcloth and lightly scrub at it, but nothing happens. You scrub harder, but all that does is irritate the skin connected to the stupid mark. You toss the washcloth away and grab some pigment from a drawer in the vanity, the thickest one, used for areas that would crease more. You try to swipe it over the mark, but… it’s as if whatever the mark was created by is unable to be covered. The pigment almost immediately melts off the mark, making it almost appear like your skin itself is melting. You use another washcloth to clean it off, and throw it across the bathroom. You slam open the bath door, exhaling harshly. Clearly, there’ll be no use in even attempting to hide the dratted thing. There’s still some things you can do, even at the Keep, but… you have to let Antigone know you won’t be able to make it to see her today. Or, should you? What if some dangerous, insane mage did this to you? What if they try to hurt her? >[[Stay at the Keep.]] >[[Find a way out of the Keep.]]

You choose to stay at the Keep, behaving like you should. There's no reason to doubt or fight back against your father's orders; he's trying to keep you safe, however he can. You stand and pace the floor, thinking carefully. How could this have happened? Who could have done this? The light catches on your bracelet, and your {eyecolor} eyes linger on it for a moment, considering. Certainly not... your mother couldn't have anything to do with this, could she? [[There's no way-]]

antigonefri: +1 -- No. No. You shouldn’t, you truly shouldn’t, but you’re going to find a way out of the Keep. You need someone to talk to about this, someone who will listen, and maybe even know some way to help. Who’s to say that Marcos will even know anything to help you? It’s settled. You go to your second armoire and pull a hooded cloak from its depths, and head into your bath again to carefully tuck it around your face and body. You can’t risk anyone recognizing you, not with the Keep on lockdown, not with this thing around your eye. When you’re satisfied with its placement and how you’ve pinned it, you leave out from your quarters, then head to one of the few servant passages you know of. It’ll be a tight fit, and definitely nothing good will come from the attempt if you’re caught, but you have to try. You carefully look down the passage before you go too far in, a funny buzz starting in your ears. When you hear nothing, no sign of life, you start down it yourself. It’s rather dim, with only sparsely lit candles lighting the way. You go down the stone stairs carefully, their unevenness making your feet feel unstable on them. It’s easier once you step down onto the actual ground, but you keep your hand on one of the walls, just in case. The last thing you want is to trip and fall down here. If you’re seriously injured, someone may not find you for hours. _Days._ You shudder at the prospect. Your fingers can feel the uneven carving to the stones, and with your eyes you can see the grooves and cuts left by whatever tools were used on the strangely colored stone. It may just be how the light casts shadows, but to your eye, it looks like a mix between gray and beige, which… doesn’t fit any stone you’ve ever seen before. The only sound is your own breathing and footsteps, but down here, enclosed from the entire world, it’s too loud. Your heart beat, you realize, is also audible. It pounds in your ears, in your head. You finally see the door ahead, the one that leads out of the wretched place, with some light peering from underneath it. You remember Izzy mentioning this one leads into a backroom of a home owned by the head servant. The memory’s a bit foggy, but you think he lives near Antigone’s, but closer to the working district. You quicken your pace, eager to leave the narrow passage. You let out a sigh of relief as you push open the door, fresh air pouring into your lungs from an open window nearby. It’s a small room you step into, big enough to hold a small group of people if it had to, with one large window, and three doors: one from which you came out of, one into the rest of the house, and one to the outside. You inhale deeply again before moving to the door to the outdoors, somewhat dreading it just from how [[heavy the air]] feels in this room alone.

You’re right to, as when you open the door, the oppressive heat washes over you just as yesterday, but it somehow feels so much heavier. It’s like a hand pushing you down physically, threatening to smother you should you remain in it for too long. You fight the feeling of fuzziness that enters your brain as you make your way to the front of the house. Thankfully, you do recognize where you are: the road that leads directly up past Antigone’s home. Given it’s still so early, if you hurry, you might catch her before she leaves. You try to not run on your way there, try to not be so conspicuous, but it’s difficult. Difficult, given you’re in a large cloak, and it feels hot enough to melt metal outside. As her home comes into view, you see her and her assistant leaving. You quicken your step, needing to catch her before she leaves. You shove past a man who yells and crashes into a barrel, then you nearly run face first into a cart, your feet carrying you fast but haphazardly. You have to make it. You reach her as she’s preparing her own cart, and you grab her arm before she can step up onto it. She gasps and her head whips around to look at you, fear lined in her face as she starts to struggle- “Tiggi! Tiggi, you idiot, it’s me!” She stops at your voice, her eyes narrowing as she peers under your hood. “Wait, {name}? What’s going on? What’s that on-” “Shh! We need to get into your house, quick! I’ll explain everything but not out here!” You usher her towards her home, just as her assistant, Fernela, comes around the back of the cart. “Hey! Who-” “It’s fine, Ferny, it’s just $name. Take the cart on, would you?” Antigone’s voice is placating, and for a moment the woman seems to want to refuse… but she nods, then goes around the cart. “Okay, but don’t be long, alright? I’m not great with customers.” “I’m well aware, after that last time.” Antigone moves to be in front of you, quickly unlocks the door, and holds it open so you can slip in. She quickly closes it behind herself, then turns on you. “{name}, what’s going on? Explain, like, now. [[Please]].”

You take a shuddering breath in, then pull down your hood, revealing your face fully. Her eyes go wide. "We're, uh, not sure yet. Marcos is being called to the Keep to figure it out. I wasn't supposed to even leave, but," you laugh awkwardly, as some realization sets in, "I wanted to see you. I definitely feel like this is not something easily explained in a letter." "You were told not to leave, weren't you?!" She sighs exasperatedly, shaking her head. "You absolute fool. What'll you do if your father or Ser Avery finds you gone?" "That'll be a problem I worry about when it comes to pass." You wish your voice sounded a little more confident, especially when her eyes narrow. Truthfully, you're not sure what you'd do if your father discovered you were gone. Probably look for the nearest ditch and make it your new home instead of facing his fury. "Uh huh. I'm sure." She shakes her head again, staring at the floor as she chews her lip. Her usual stance when thinking about something important. "Let me know immediately what Marcos says, will you? But, {name}, you _must_ return immediately. There's enough going on now that you needn't be causing more trouble for yourself. _Please_," she adds when you open your mouth. "Go home, alright? Who knows… maybe some dangerous, deranged mage put that on you, hoping you'd be stupid enough to leave the safety of the Keep." "Are you calling me stupid?" You ask indignantly, your brows furrowing. She grins widely. "With love, but yes. Not to mention, I need to be getting to the stall. Just, send me word when he tells you what's going on, yeah? Hopefully it's a simple thing to fix and nothing more." You hug her, hug her tight. Her slender arms go around your neck, pulling you to her as well. You let it linger, for a few moments, before slowly pulling away. You shiver when her fingers brush your neck as she pulls away too, her smile softer, warmer. "I'll let you know when I can." She opens her door again, and you leave out of it first, putting your hood back into place. You wait for her to exit and lock it back. "You'd best stay up for it, too." "Ah, yes, I shall sacrifice my sleep for you, just this once." You smirk as you watch her mount her horse. "Mhmm. I'll make it up to you, I suppose." "You'd better. I'll be waiting on that letter." "Of course. Back to the servant tunnels for me." You shiver at the prospect of entering that passage again, but it's not like there's any chance in the Blacklands that you'd be able to get in any other way. "Good luck," she teases, and you [[two part company]].

You carefully slink your way back to the head servant's home, apprehensive at the thought of that narrow hall. You open the door back into the Keep with a gasp, eager to be free. You close the door behind you, careful to make sure to do so quietly- "Well, well, well. What do we have here?" You feel frozen inside as a sinister chuckle sounds from behind you, and you slowly turn around… to find Ser Avery leaning against the door opposite to you, his arms crossed in front of him. The look on his face is predatory… like a cat that finally caught a particularly pesky mouse. [if mche == 'she'] "How curious to find you here, my lady, coming from a servant's tunnel entrance." [else] "How curious to find you here, my lord, coming from a servant's tunnel entrance." [continue] "Er, ha, well… I was just… uh…" "Don had me convinced you wouldn't be _foolish_ enough to actually leave the Keep. No, he said, his child was no fool, and they certainly wouldn't risk their own life for any idiot nonsense." He pushes off the door, standing to his full height. His natural height, combined with his boots, makes it to where he has to bend his head forward slightly to fit. His eyes are like ice as he slowly comes forward, though his voice never leaves a would-be-casual tone. "Yet, earlier, I heard from a servant that a hooded figure came through this very doorway. Concerned, I checked your room, but found it quite empty. I then had the servants check the grounds for you, and still, you were nowhere to be found." Oh, _bollocks_. When you open your mouth to say something, to refute some way, he holds up a single hand. A silent command. Your words fizzle in your throat as your nerves seem to constrict it. "I then had, what's her name, Isetta? I had her check your clothes for any missing cloaks… and what would you know, one matching the description of the one you don now was missing. And I found you coming through here… curious. Very. Curious." "... What're you going to do?" He shrugs, and while his demeanor seems to relax, his eyes never leave you, nor does the ice in them ever thaw. "You're an adult, aren't you? Or so you claimed to be. I just think it stupid to risk your own life to see someone is all. Especially given the matter could still be resolved before the night falls, or at least passes into morrow's dawn." It takes your will to keep holding his eyes, but seeds of guilt are starting to take root in your chest, making it feel tight. What if he’s right? What if Marcos arrives tonight and he fixes everything? What if it turns out that you only needed to _wait_, instead of rushing off like a child? So many questions run through your head, and doubt fills you at your own actions. Foolish. And not in a good way, either. >[["I stand by my decision."]] >[["I fucked up."]]

"I stand by my decision," you say with confidence. "This could very well be over before nightfall, but it also might not be. That could've been my last chance to see my friend for a long while." He sneers. "Gods above, you're so... hard-fucking-headed." He waves a hand and gives you another piercing look. "If this causes your death, it will be on your head, not mine." With that, he leaves, and you head back to your room, head still held high. Yes, you may have acted impatiently, but you stand by it, even now. Even if that Ser Avery wants to call you an utter fool. You return to your room, kicking off your shoes and removing your cloak, before sitting down into your chair. You get lost in thought, looking at the damnable bracelet. Perhaps it's the cause of this all. But if your mother had it made for you, then, well... was she a culprit? Hmm. You can't see her doing something so vile, but who knows. Everyone is a suspect now, until the truth comes out. [align center] [[Later, after nightfall.]]

seraveryfri: +1 -- “I… you’re right. You’re right, alright? I fucked up. I really, truly did. I shouldn’t have left.” “Well, obviously. Be more careful, will you, heiress? Before you get yourself killed for no good reason other than stupidity.” With one last look that seems to pierce through you, he leaves with a flourish, and you can hear his footsteps recede as he heads towards the main part of the Keep. You head to your room, downtrodden, realizing your own idiocy as you push open the door to your quarters. You toss your cloak to the side, flick your shoes off with two particularly hard kicks and watch them sail across the room, then slump into your chair, thinking. You shouldn’t have left. That is a definite. If someone was out to kill you, out to do you in, they’d have had an incredibly easy time. Sure, you were cloaked, but many magics, especially illegal magics, can pierce such disguises. If they went through the trouble to curse you, and make sure it’d pierce the protection surrounding the Keep, then surely they want to see you harmed. You shift in the chair, causing the sun streaming in to catch your newest piece of jewelry: the bracelet, gifted to you just this morning. You shake your wrist, absentmindedly watching the rays reflect off of both metal and gemstone. It’s beautiful, truly. It’s so simple but quite lovely. Strange for something like that to come from your mother, especially given she said she had it made for you alone. The errant thought crosses your mind that maybe she is to blame but certainly not, right? She can be vile, but she wouldn't do something so evil to her only heir. [align center] [[Later, after nightfall.]]

As night begins to fall, you sit in your room, your dinner half-finished on the side table opposite to the one you keep your book on. And, as more time passes, as the sky grows darker, your nerves begin to creep back, making you feel sick. Surely he will be here soon… surely. You flinch when a knock comes at your door. “My lady, Lord Donovan has sent for you to meet him in the drawing room. Sir Marcos is waiting for you.” You practically leap from your chair, scrambling to get to the door. _Finally_. Finally, maybe something will come from this wretched mark. You shove your feet back into your shoes, dust any lint or other things that might be clinging to your clothing, then throw open the door. Whichever servant had come to collect you has already gone, and you make the trip to the drawing room alone. Your heart races the entire way, threatening to both choke and deafen you long before you reach where destiny awaits. Everything seems both too loud and too quiet; in your head, your heart is far too loud, as are the sounds of your heels on the floor, but in reality… the Keep is silent. Hushed. It seems to make everything in your head louder and louder, and by the time the archway into the drawing room comes into view, you feel as though your very head may explode. You can hear people talking, but their voices are too low for you to make out clearly. In fact, you can hardly tell who’s speaking until you’re passing through the archway into the room. It’s one of the finest looking rooms in the Keep, with black armchairs lined with golden trim and metal bits to keep their velvety covers in place. There are eight of them in total, along with a rather large side table to each one’s right side, all made from white wood and holding the same golden trim and metal bits. The rug underneath it all lays exactly an inch from all the baseboards, and it depicts Derinstad’s blue bear on a purely black background. Several other similar tapestries line the walls, some with the blue bear, one bearing the family bloodline, and others with depictions of the districts and major areas in the city. It’s also well-lit, with many sconces on the walls and there is always a plethora of candles lit inside. Said light is washing over the faces of your mother, your father, Ser Avery standing at his side, and an ancient, withered looking man sitting directly across from them, his clothes dark brown and loose on his thin frame. [["Hello, Your Majesty."]]

"Will you come stand before me?” “I- Yes, of course.” You can feel all eyes on you as you quickly cross the room, your entire body feeling strange and stiff. It feels like it takes forever to actually reach the man’s chair, then round the side table to stand in front of him, but to the side slightly. His beady eyes meet yours, and a kind smile stretches his lips. “I am Marcos, child, although I’m sure you already had guessed as such. To be able to understand what’s caused that Mark on your eye, I will need to see your hand.” You nod and go to reach out your hand, but he stops you. “Ah-ah, I need the one with the bracelet. My Tyiana has told me she had a wellness and fortune charm placed upon it, and it is her worry that it may have something to do with this misfortune.” You slide a glance to your mother, but she’s looking at the floor, her face unreadable. You can see your father’s hand squeezing hers, reassuring her. You turn back to the man, Marcos. You reach out your hand that the bracelet resides on instead. “Can you turn it palm-up please?” You do so, and watch his hands approach your own. One comes to sit on the top of your palm, while the other cups the back of it, and then his hairless head bows to touch his hand. His fingers are cool, careful, gentle. They do not move, and he does not move for several minutes, and all you can hear is his slow, deep breathing, along with a slight wheeze that comes with it. It’s not until your legs feel as though they may be tempted to give from underneath of you that his head finally rises again, his eyes now an eerie, pale blue. “I am sorry to say, My Majesties, this is no simple curse with a simple cure. This is… dark magic. Olde magic. The bracelet is the source, oh yes, but…” He shakes his head and wets his lips as he pulls his hands away. “I cannot help the child. No mortal healer nor cursebreaker will be able to.” You hear a cry from behind you. You twist around, alarmed, to find your mother on her feet, her face blazing with anger. “I will have the augur who charmed the bracelet dragged to the dungeons myself. Even if it was not them, I will find whoever they allowed near it, and I will have them hunted, too.” You watch her as she storms out, your mouth gaping. You never thought she had such behavior in her. Before you can find words to express your disbelief, your father speaks. “Please, _please_, sir Marcos, what am I to do? What will happen to my little one? A curse such as this… I have heard the stories on Immortal curses. [[It never ends well]].”

Your heart twists at the pain in his voice, his worry, and when you look at him, you find his eyes are glistening in the light. “You’re right, My Majesty, they do not. This one will be the same. It will slowly eat your lifeforce, child,” he half-whispers to you, his eyes steady, “but that will not be all. It will slowly spread a curse to the land, starting in Derinstad, and it will eventually cover all of Aome, then the Southern forests, and then spread across the ocean to the Adarlwyn and those South to them, too. You will never die, no, so long as the bracelet remains close to you at all times. However, in the end, you may wish for death, as it will consume you until you are left a shriveled, motionless thing that cannot speak, cannot eat, cannot do anything.” “What do I do?” You choke out, your throat tight with panic. You feel sick, you feel your eyes starting to water, you feel ice spreading in your veins. The very last thing you’d ever want is such a life, a horrible, pained life. “What _can_ I do?” “You will go to The Great Pilgrimage that will begin its journey soon. You have five days to reach The Pilgrim’s Cupboard to join the procession. You will go with the other Pilgrims as one of them, and when you reach the Seats of the Gods, you will bow to them, and pray for their help.” “How do we know if that’ll even work, sir Marcos? The Gods… they have been silent to Aome for over a decade. How-” “We do not know. But it is your only hope, unless you plan to travel to the Blacklands, and beg the Daemons to change your child into one of them. Even then, your options will be limited to most likely being slowly consumed for days after they capture you, or your child having an almost sure chance of becoming a mindless, cannibalistic monster.” Marcos clasps his hands in his lap, shaking his head. “No. Your hope lies in the Gods, for I doubt they will simply allow the world they Made to become a festering, decayed pit of rot and unspeakable horrors.” “I… yes. You’re right. The Gods are not fools, and would not ignore something like this.” Your father sighs, pushing himself to his feet. “Thank you, sir Marcos. I hate to be a bad host, but I have much work to get done. If our only choice is The Great Pilgrimage, then we must prepare.” “Of course, My Majesty,” he murmurs, standing up himself, though it takes him far longer. “I should return home soon, anyway… these old eyes do not take kindly to the darkness.” “Avery, would you get an escort for sir Marcos? I will not have him finding harm.” “Yes, of course, my Lord.” Ser Avery moves to lead Marcos away, patiently waiting for the elderly man to hobble along behind him. As Marcos is crossing the threshold out of the drawing room, he pauses and turns to meet your gaze. “I will hope for you safety, young one. But, I think, this journey will be a new beginning for you, and you will learn more about yourself than you have in all the winters you’ve been in this world.” You dip your head to him. “Thank you.” [[He smiles sadly, then leaves, leaving you alone with your father.]]

“{name}, I need you to hear me, alright?” He begins, his voice filled with dread, with worry. When you turn to him, he’s no longer the great ruler of Derinstad, a man fit for his title. He’s a father, your father, and he looks almost… defeated. “You must go on this journey. If there is any doubt in your heart, in your soul, you _must_ crush it before it can grow roots.” “I know, Da, but…” You rub your arms, a numbness settling in. It’s too much, too soon, all at once. Far, far too much at once. “Da, what exactly is the plan here? I’m fairly certain it’d be strange for the heir to Derinstad to suddenly decide to go on The Great Pilgrimage, and my face… Makeup doesn’t cover it. It won’t wash or scrub away. What am I to do?” “I’m going to figure it all out, alright? You go get some sleep… It's going to be a long day tomorrow. You’ll need to rest for it.” He gently grabs your shoulder, squeezing it. “Just… be preparing yourself. Go ahead and pack whatever you want to bring with you, everything important. Have some plain clothes ready.” “Da… what if the Gods can’t help? What if there’s nothing no one can do?” you hate how small your voice sounds, but it’s something going through your head, over and over again. “We _will_ find a way. Even if I have to go to the Blacklands myself. I won’t let you and the entire world fall into nothingness for some sick joke.” He takes his hand away and nods towards where your quarters are. “Go get some sleep, little one. We’ll start figuring everything out in the morning.” You follow him out of the room, lingering in the archway as you watch him head to his study, no doubt doing exactly what he said he would. Your father wouldn’t let you down. [[He never has]].

The walk to your room is a long one, filled with silence. Even your heartbeat seems to be missing, but perhaps its the numbness. The lack of… anything. Everything feels unreal, even you feel unreal. You can almost feel your skin connected to your body, whatever that means. You enter your room, and you remember your promise to Antigone… you’d write to her when you learned more. You pour a glass of water and move to your desk, lighting the candles on the top corners so you can see. You pick up your owl-feathered pen, pull out a crisp sheet of parchment, and begin to write. The full truth. The full, unyielding truth. [[She deserves as much.]]

You spend a good half an hour writing, then re-reading, making sure it reads well. When you’re satisfied, you place it in an envelope, write her name on it, and place a wax seal on its back. Then, you leave your desk and open your messenger bird’s cage, and tie the envelope to its leg. “This is to go to Antigone, you hear? You peck her window until she wakes, you understand?” You tell it as you open one of your windows. It watches you quietly, before giving a nod. “Good, then off you go. You’ll have a treat morrow morning.” The bird squawks and takes off, leaving you fully alone. You blow out the candles, remove your shoes, and head for your bedroom. You need to find one of your bags and do as your father said, put things in it you want to bring with you. Clothes, your journal, a metal pen and a couple of inkwells. You also store some of your smaller, lighter books inside. Once you've finished, you see how late it is, and make the decision to sleep. But sleep won't come easy tonight, if it comes at all; this you are certain of. [align center] [[Sleep...]]

Your thoughts are scattered as Ser Avery comes barreling into your room, looking wildly. He seems to calm when he spots you, near your bed. "Ah. So you _are_ still here." "Er, yes. I haven't moved from my room since the... incident." [if mche == 'she'] "Sorry for the intrusion, my lady, but we had reports of someone matching your description in town. Clearly, they were mistaken." [else] "Sorry for the intrusion, my lord, but we had reports of someone matching your description in town. Clearly, they were mistaken." [continue] "I'd certainly think so, given I am standing right here." He cocks his head, taking you in fully, thoughtfully. >[[You feel your face heat under his intense gaze.]] >[[You raise your brow, curious to what's on his mind.]] >[[Give him a teasing grin.]]

seraveryflirt: +1 -- You feel your face heat under his intense gaze, and your legs feel frozen with how he's watching you. His eyes darken slightly when he notices your blush, causing your blush to reach further down your neck. "What a lovely thing, blushing over someone such as me." "You should give yourself more credit." "Hmph. Should I?" He chews his lip as his eyes squint, clearly considering something, before shaking his head. "You're ever so tempting, but you shouldn't be." "Why?" "You know why, My Majesty. You know why." He smiles softly. "I'll leave you be." He closes the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts... and a strange longing. [[You return to your desk.]]

You raise your brow, curious to what's on his mind. "Is there something further, Ser Avery?" "No. Nevermind me, I got lost in thought." He gives a wide grin. "I'll be seeing you later, My Majesty." "See you later." He closes your door, leaving you alone again. [[You return to your desk.]]

seraveryflirt: +1 -- You give him a teasing grin, wondering what exactly is going on in that head of his. "Can I help you with something, ser?" "You could help me by being less tempting and more like you should be." You give him an innocent look. "How should I be, then?" "Keeping the lines between us clear instead of trying to blur them." He snorts, shaking his head. "Aye, aye. I'll leave you alone, before I feel tempted to act." He closes your door, leaving you alone... with a strange ache. [[You return to your desk.]]

You get lost in thought, still trying to figure out this conundrum. Who could have done this. What you should do versus what you are doing. It's a stressful morning going into a stressful afternoon, and for all you know, you won't have answers until later tonight. [[Later, after nightfall.]]

You were right. Sleep was fickle, leaving you to toss and turn most of the night. You had barely fallen back to sleep when Izzy had been sent to collect you, and you had unfairly been snippy with her due to it. Breakfast is a quiet affair. Your mother is absent, and your father has deeper bags under his eyes than you’ve ever seen… you doubt he slept at all last night. And who can blame him? “So… Da-” “We’ll talk about the plan in the drawing room after breakfast,” he half-whispers, his voice hoarse. “Ah… alright.” The conversation drops, and a heaviness settles into the room. Reality is starting to set in, and not just for you. Thoughts enter your head, and your stomach becomes so sick you can only take a few bites more. You wait for your father to finish, even as it feels like the minutes move by with the length of hours. It’s nearly torturous. Eventually, your father stands from the table, his face unreadable as he nods towards the drawing room. “Alright, $name. It’s time.” You’re on your feet quickly, and you follow him, barely a foot between his back and yourself. When you enter the drawing room, the windows are drawn, which is strange for this time of the day. _Probably from the Mark. Don’t want too many others to see._ Ser Avery is already waiting, dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt and dark pants. His hands are clasped in his lap, and his head is bowed until he hears your approaching footsteps. “Is it time, Donovan?” He asks quietly, his lips set in a slight frown. “Afraid it is.” Your father crosses the room to take his seat, with Ser Avery to his right. You take the seat across, your stomach sick and feeling as though it’s doing [[flips in your stomach.]]

“{name}, you already know you’ll be having to attend The Great Pilgrimage,” your father begins, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “but there will be more to it. So, so much more. Ser Avery will be accompanying you, but obviously, you both can’t go dressed in finery and identify as who you really are.” “What do you mean?” _Can’t go as ourselves?_ “Exactly as I said. You’ll have to act as commoners-” “Your Highness, I hate to interrupt, but-” Alanna voice comes in a quick burst, her face flushed as she holds onto the drawing room’s archway. “What’s the meaning of this?” Your father demands, his face taking on the look of the lord he adopts when he needs to. “I asked for _no_ interruptions-” “Yes, Your Grace, I understand, but the young Beetle girl, the one {name} is always with, she’s here demanding to be seen.” Your father brows raise as he looks over to you. “{name}… is there a reason Antigone is here, right this very moment?” You couldn’t hide your confusion even if you wanted to. Words escape you, an intelligent answer eludes you, so you just… turn your hands out and shrug, shaking your head. “I… I don’t know.” He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Oh, Gods, Alanna bring her in. I know the girl, she’s not going to take a no for an answer without being heard first.” As her footsteps hurry away, your father turns on you again. “{name}. Did you tell her anything? Anything at all?” “I… Yes. I sent her a letter last night, telling her about what’s been going on.” His lips press into a thin, harsh line as Ser Avery shakes his head with a scoff. “Listen, I trust her. And I needed someone to talk to, who would be as much in the dark as I am.” “_{name}! That was incredibly foolish! What if someone had intercepted the letter? [[What if]]-”

“Tyian Donovan, I know this is rather sudden and quite the intrusion, but-” Antigone enters through the archway, her parasol closed and at her side, her chin up. She huffs in a breath and stands straight, looking your father dead in the eye… meanwhile, a look of slight amusement is now settling on his face. “I heard them tell you on my way in here that they told me. I know they shouldn’t have or whatever, but I also guessed that you’d want them to act like a commoner, right? Or am I completely wrong?” “No, you’re right. {name}, along with Ser Avery, will both need to pass as commoners. You have some ideas on the matter, I take it?” “Well, given I am technically a commoner, even if my family are merchants, _yes_. I can help them both, or at least {name}, pass among the crowds. I can help get the right clothes, and, quite honestly, even if you say no, I still plan to go with them. I’m just trying to respectfully ask, first.” “Respectfully ask, mmm.” He laughs softly, half-hearted, and shakes his head. “Perhaps it is selfish of me to want to say yes, to make sure my little one has the best chance of making it. I will agree for you to come, and I agree that you can go with Isetta and Ser Avery to get what the three of you will need on this journey. So long as you understand the dangers.” “I understand well enough. The trip will be long, and potentially dangerous. There will be plenty of dangers, from whoever casted this… curse or whatever it is, to if any venturing with us learn the truth.” She nods, her eyes boring into his. “I understand.” “Then, it’s settled. You, Ser Avery, and Isetta will leave after this, to gather whatever you may need. You will have all the funding you require. Avery, you’ll need to also get horses… will you be requiring horses as well, Ms. Beetle?” “No, I have two trusty ones of my own.” “And your assistant… have they agreed to coming along then, too?” “Yes. I’ve told her… an _abridged_ version, nothing about {name}’s Mark or curse, but she does know they must go on The Great Pilgrimage to speak with the Gods, and that I feel I must come, too.” “Mmm. What else is there to discuss, then?” Your father stands with a groan, wincing as he does. He looks at you, his eyes full of worry. “Do you understand, {name}? You will need this Pilgrimage, but that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy, not at all. It’s untelling what you will face on the way, nor who you will meet.” “Well, when you put it that way…” You sigh. “Not much of a point in worrying about it now, is there? Either way, if I plan to keep living a not horribly pain-filled life, I have to go. Whatever happens, happens.” “S’good way to look at it,” Ser Avery agrees, standing with a grunt. [[“We might live to see the damn Seats after all.” ]]

“Avery,” your father warns, his voice low as he gives the man a side-eyed look. “Apologies, Donovan. My mouth seeks to get the best of me.” He moves to stand near the archway. “Are we to go now?” “Yes, you’d best. Make use of the daylight, as you all leave tomorrow morning, at dawn, else you run the risk of not arriving in time.” “What of me, Da? What am I to do?” You don’t like this. You don’t like everyone having something to do to help with this, while you sit idly by. “You are to finish packing and tie up anything you have left to do. And don’t have that face,” he adds gently, “you’re the one who’s most at risk. I feel it’d be best for you to remain here, and only leave when it’s necessary.” “I don’t want to sit here, useless! Not when I’m the one this is all centered around!” “I know that, {name}. But if whoever did this is still in the city, you’ll be easily spotted in the crowd as one of the very few wearing a hooded cloak in the middle of a heat wave.” You curse quietly, wanting to argue, but you know he’s right. “Yeah… and who knows… maybe they put some kind of spell to reveal me any time I’m away from the Keep, or in general.” “Precisely. Just finish packing and answer your letters. We’ll handle the rest.” “But, Da, what will you tell people while I’m away? It’ll seem strange, the heir to Derinstad not being present for any court dealings or events.” “We’ll be telling the people and everyone else that you’ve come down with a strange illness, and can’t risk spreading it, so you’ve been confined to your quarters until an augur can find a cure.” “I… suppose that’d work.” You push yourself up from your chair, your anxiety not eased, especially as whatever apathy you’d allowed yourself begins to melt away as finally the reality of… _everything_ sinks in. This is happening. This is really _[[happening]]_.

You wake before the sunrises, Izzy’s chilly fingers pulling you from sleep. You had nearly cried out, confused by the sudden cold and the darkness, but now you’re up and fully awake. Looking at the options of clothing before you. Very little changes between them, so in the end, you pick the one in the middle, a dark gray short-sleeved shirt, a pair of loose calf-length pants, and a dark blue coat with an attached hood. Your dark boots go to a little above the ankle, and while they’re a damned nuisance to get on, they fit snugly and more comfortably than the others you own. As you enter your living area, you find your bag is gone, and quickly point it out. “Where’re my things?” “Ser Avery already has them at the stables, with the horse he’s bringing. I also took the liberty to put your clothes in it.” “Right. Thank you.” “Mhmm. We should go; he’s already down in the entry, waiting for you.” You nod and you take a moment to look around your quarters one last time. Who knows how long it’ll be before you see your room again? You remember reading that The Great Pilgrimage can last upwards of three months, if there are many obstacles to go through, or as little as one. As if one month is little. _What if I never see my room again?_ The thought chills you, even against the warm draft coming in from the window. A horrible thought, especially to have just before setting out. “{name}?” “Right. Sorry.” You fall into step behind her, your legs feeling as though they’ve been coated in lead. The closer you grow to the entry, the more your stomach twists, and the faster your [[heart beats in your ears]].

You find your father, mother, and Ser Avery waiting. He’s dressed in a dark cuirass, his twin axes at his sides, in dark red pants and knee-high boots. His face is cold, emotionless, as he continues a conversation with your father until the three notice you, then he moves back towards the doorway, giving you a half-smile that looks more like a grimace. Your father sees you first, and gives you a warm smile, but it doesn’t fully reach his eyes; no, they’re sad, the eyes like that of a man who’s lost too much in too short of time. His arms open in a hug, one that you immediately take. He needs it, the physical connection, and so you do. It may very well be the last time you’ll ever get to embrace him, should things go piss-poorly. The thought is strong enough to wet your eyes, but you don’t let it become more than that. You have to be strong. You step back from him, but his hands linger on your shoulders. “You can do this. I have faith in you. You’re strong, $name. You’ll weather this, and you’ll come home with knowledge of how to remove this Mark, whatever it may be.” “I will, Da. Thank you. I love you.” “I love _you_, little one.” He releases you and your mother steps forward, a cool smile on her lips. Her eyes seem a bit strange as she scrutinizes you. “You’ll do well, {name}. Like Donovan said, you’ll weather this, and return home with good news.” Her bony hand lightly squeezes your shoulder, reassuringly. “Take care of yourself. Always have an eye on your surroundings once you leave the Keep.” “I will, Mother. Thank you.” It’s probably the best she could muster, but you feel somehow lighter after it. Her hand falls away, and finally you turn to Ser Avery, still watching you with an expression between grimace and half-smile. “It’s really time, isn’t it?” [if mche == 'she'] “Afraid so, my lady. Our horses wait for us, though you’ll need to pick a different one from what you normally would ride. They’ll still be excellent choices, but more within the budget of would-be common merchants.” [else] “Afraid so, my lord. Our horses wait for us, though you’ll need to pick a different one from what you normally would ride. They’ll still be excellent choices, but more within the budget of would-be common merchants.” [continue] “Ah, fair enough.” You turn to your parents, memorizing their faces. It’s strange, but there’s a small, wormy feeling that gives you a fear that you’ll forget them. “Okay, enough good-byes. Off you go. And just… be careful, {name}. Please.” “I will, Da. Promise.” As you turn to leave, your father calls out to you. “Ah, $name, wait a mo’!” You turn around, and find him [[approaching]] with your {dropdown menu for: 'weapon', choices: ['sword', 'spear', 'bow']}.

You turn around and find him approaching you, your {weapon} in hand. “You’d do well to not forget this. There will likely be a time you need it.” [if weapon == 'bow'] You quickly take it from him, slinging it over your shoulder. “In all the chaos, I had actually forgotten it. Thank you, Da.” [if weapon == 'spear'] You quickly take it from him, slinging it around your back. “In all the chaos, I had actually forgotten it. Thank you, Da.” [else] You quickly take it from him, strapping it to your belt. “In all the chaos, I had actually forgotten it. Thank you, Da.” [continue] He nods, giving you a last, parting smile. And with that last little detour, you leave the Keep side-by-side with Ser Avery, your [[hood drawn over your head]].

The sun is barely beginning to lighten the sky as you follow him to the merchant’s stables. He is quiet, and Derinstad’s heart is just beginning to stir. You can only see a few businesses with their lights on, and maybe one or two people already out on the street. Derinstad looks different like this. Stark, but peaceful. Not the usual chaos of a bustling city; instead, it's still sleeping, a slumbering beast not yet woken by the sun's rays. You look back to Ser Avery's back, his shoulders slightly slumped as the two of you start up a slight incline to the merchants' stables. You can see an enormous, beautiful, solid black horse tethered outside with several packs attached at the saddle, and a small man stands next to it, dwarfed by its sheer size. His face is familiar, and you realize he's a servant from your home. "You can leave now, Gil," Ser Avery states dismissively as you reach the stables fully, and he starts undoing the reins from the post. The man, Gil, bows deeply to you both. "May the stars align for you, me lords." "To you as well," you say kindly in return as he shuffles away, then turn back to Ser Avery. "Where are the horses I'm to pick from?" "This way," he beckons, leading you to the second row of stalls. He stops in between the second and third stalls, then points to the first, second, third, and fourth stalls. "These're your choices. Pick wisely." You turn your attention to the said four horses, looking over them closely. The first stall holds a strawberry roan mare with a tag on the door reading “Berry”, who watches you meekly over the said door. You take an apple from a basket set on a table off to the side and offer it to her. She lightly lips your hand, then the apple, then your hand again before snuffling the apple from your fingers. She crunches it loudly, devouring it almost as quickly as she took it from you. Then, she returns to your outreached hand, sniffing, before nuzzling the end of her snout into your palm. You laugh as you pat her snout, listening to her make a soft grunting noise. You pull away from her after a few pats to grab another apple and move to the second stall. A blue-grey blanket stallion is in this one, his head held high and slightly to the side as he watches you silently. You approach him, holding the apple where he can see. However, he seems disinterested and instead continues to shift to watch you. You look to his tag and find it says “Anchor”. "Nnnk, nnnk," you call to him, offering the apple. "C'mere, boy." He snorts loudly and turns away fully. You hear him start to eat the hay in the corner, and realize you've been dismissed by a horse. You sigh and move to the third stall, hoping for a better interaction with whichever horse is housed within. You hear a loud, angry neigh and a handler cursing as you move to where you can see inside the stall. A beautiful palomino is inside, currently fighting a handler. She has a single black splotch over her eye, which you see as her head gets turned towards you as the handler seems to give up and leaves, passing by you with an apology. The palomino watches you, breathing loudly. You approach and offer your apple over the gate. Her tag says her name is “Cream”. "C'mere, girl," you say softly, almost cooing, like you would a small upset child. She snorts again, stamping one of her front hooves… but does slowly begin to approach you. She watches you warily as she makes her way forward ever so slowly, until her snout is within reach of your hand and the apple. She sniffs at it, then your hand, and you freeze as she does. Several moments pass… and she grabs the apple and quickly takes it, crunching through it loudly. You keep your hand outstretched as you watch her… and she eventually returns her snout towards your hand, lipping it. She snorts when you pat her snout, her leg twitching as if she's wanting to flee but restraining herself. "Good girl," you murmur, scratching between her eyes. You continue for a small time, scritching her fur, before doing as you've done three times prior, you grab yet another apple and approach the final stall. Within this one is a black stallion with a white star upon his forehead. He's currently eating, and doesn't notice you. His tag states his name is “Star”. You whistle softly, and his head jerks up, oats falling everywhere, while some stay stuck to his face. He looks around until he finds you, though he only regards you in what seems to be mild interest. However, whenever you offer him the apple, his head quickly pops over the stall door and his oat-coated lips grasp it from your fingers, leaving slightly slobbery oats on your fingers. You wipe them on a coat hanging nearby with distaste, then return to him. His head is still over the stall door, but it seems more from lack of wanting to move further than anything else as you return to him, lightly placing your hand on his snout. He grunts but doesn’t do anything as you scritch through his fur. When you finally step away from him, you can see Ser Avery shifting between his feet out of the corner of your eye, before you hear him let out a loud, long-suffering sigh. You should probably hurry up and pick your [[horse]], which will be {dropdown menu for: 'horse', choices: ['Berry', 'Anchor', 'Cream', 'Star']}.

[if horse == 'Berry'] You choose the strawberry roan, her head still over the stall door, watching you. You walk back to her and pick up her reigns as you open her stall door, leading her out. She follows easily, softly grunting as she goes. [if horse == 'Anchor'] You choose the blue-grey blanket stallion, who stubbornly still is turned from you. Sighing, you open his stall door and pick up his reigns. He watches you, a mouthful of hay, as you do so. You give a soft tug, which he returns, but you have a secret weapon: you reach into your bag and pull out a delicious, purple carrot. He grumbles and turns towards you, willing to follow you out of the stall for the illustrious treat. [if horse == 'Cream'] You choose the palomino with the black spot over her eye. You offer her a new apple, which she comes forward for with a little more speed this time. You give her more scritches, then pick up her reigns and open the stall door. She watches you cautiously for a long moment, but when you hold out your hand, she actually comes forward, snuffling it gently. [if horse == 'Star'] You choose the black stallion, who's head is still stuck out over the stall door, regarding you curiously. You scritch him some more and offer another apple, this time a little more carefully to avoid the oats on his lips, and then take his reigns. He easily comes out, though you do have to give a gentle tug midway through as he stops to stare at Ser Avery. [continue] “This one, then? Finally.” He comes over, and fixes {horse} with a light beige saddle, a bit, and a few other things, including a bedroll and your two bags. “You able to get up on your own, or d’you need help?” “Are you asking if I can mount a horse?” You ask incredulously. He shrugs, a smug grin on his lips. “Never know with you royalty types. I’ve known a few unable to wipe their own arses.” >[["Fine, help me up, then."]] >[["I can do it myself."]]

"I can do it myself." Maybe a bit pointedly, but you get up on the horse with little effort. He seems satisfied and swaggers back to his own horse. You watch him as he mounts the black stallion, waiting for him to be in the saddle. “Come along, my little merchant. I’m sure the [[Beetle girl]] will tire of waiting for us.”

seraveryflirt: +1 -- “I-I’m fine,” you mumble through the fluttering in your stomach, your face hot. He seems satisfied and swaggers back to his own horse. You watch him as he mounts the black stallion, your skin still reliving the warmth of his hands through your pant leg. _Fool. Get a hold of yourself!_ “Come along, my little merchant. I’m sure the [[Beetle girl]] will tire of waiting for us.”

seraveryflirt: +1 -- "I don't know... maybe we should do it again," you tell him, flirting lightly. He grins, but tsks. "Come now, My Majesty, if I always gave into such requests, I'd never get anything done." He seems satisfied and swaggers back to his own horse. You watch him as he mounts the black stallion, your skin still reliving the warmth of his hands through your pant leg. You feel disappointed that he didn't want to flirt more, but there will be time for that later, you suppose. “Come along, my little merchant. I’m sure the [[Beetle girl]] will tire of waiting for us.”

"You're a right bastard, you know that?" You huff, staring him down. He grins cheekily. "I'm well aware, lovely, believe me." He seems satisfied and swaggers back to his own horse. You watch him as he mounts the black stallion, leaving you to glare at his back. Bastard. “Come along, my little merchant. I’m sure the [[Beetle girl]] will tire of waiting for us.”

[if horse == 'Berry'] You gently nudge your horse and she seems compliant enough, allowing you to direct her with ease. [if horse == 'Anchor'] You gently nudge your horse, but he doesn't move for a solid minute. It takes a harder nudge and his snorting to get him moving, but he _does_ move. [if horse == 'Cream'] You gently nudge your horse, and she's receptive; she quickly moves, catching up to Ser Avery in moments. [if horse == 'Star'] You gently nudge your horse, and though he snorts, he does start moving, albeit a little slowly. It takes you nudging him more to get him to pick up his pace. [continue] You fall in behind him and his own horse, and find the sun is finally beginning to peek out over the sea. “I doubt it. I imagine she’ll be practically vibrating by the time we get to the gate.” You exhale slowly as you twiddle the reins between your fingers. “It’s an adventure, no?” “An adventure? Sure.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yes, oh yes, we’ll be adventuring into probably our untimely demise or whatever horrors the Gods deem we should face on the way to their Seats.” “Ooor, the direct opposite for… reasons we can’t really discuss in the open.” “Hmph. Good point. Shall we save this lover’s dispute for later?” “_Lover’s dispute?_” You repeat, snorting. “I hope you don’t surely mean us.” “Of course not. You don’t have a chance with me.” His laughter rings in your ears as he spurs his horse onward, you following after, a stream of [[curses leaving your lips]].

The two of you reach the gates in record time. People are starting to file out into the streets, a soft buzz of noise and life finally starting up for the day. The beast of a city has finally begun to wake. Ser Avery has a word with the guard, who looks between him and you, and you feel his eyes linger as you turn your head down and away. A few more words pass between them, and then the gate is opening, revealing Antigone on her pure white mare and Fernela on her own white horse, whose backhalf is covered in sprinklings of black spots, waiting at the stables just outside of the city walls. Antigone waves enthusiastically the moment she sees the two of you approaching. You wave back, and when you reach her, you greet her. “Hey! Hope we didn’t keep you waiting too long.” “Naw, we’ve only been here ‘round an hour,” Antigone reassures, though there is a teasing tone in her voice. “What took so long?” [if mche == 'she'] “Our fair lady here wanted to spend at least half of our time playing horsekeeper.” [else] “Our fair lord here wanted to spend at least half of our time playing horsekeeper.” [continue] You scoff, narrowing your eyes at the knight. “I’m so sorry that I wanted to make sure I picked a horse I like before setting off on a Gods know how long of a journey.” “Sounds like you. Are we all ready?” Antigone’s horse grumbles as she steers her around. “I don’t think I really have a choice in the matter,” Fernela half-jokes, her lips slightly frowning. Antigone gives her a sympathetic look. “I do apologize for dragging you along, Fernie, but I’ll need the assistance.” “I know, I know. It’ll be alright. I just didn’t sleep well, don’t mind me.” “As far as I’m aware, we’re ready, as well.” Ser Avery turns to look at you, a slight smile on his lips. “Unless you have some more horses you want to go feed apples to.” “Oh, you’re so _clever_, Mr. Knight,” you mock, nudging your horse ahead of them. “Let’s go, fellow Pilgrims. We have a tavern to find and we’d best get our roles down before we get there.” “Are we actors in a play now? What will our production be called?” “For you, dear Tiggi, we’ll call it ‘Tiggi’s Adventures’,” you tease, laughing at the way her face sours. “Tiggi?” Ser Avery repeats, a glint coming into his eyes. “That’s your nickname? Tiggi?” “Say something about it, sir knight, and I’ll put a laxative powder in your food _and_ drink, so you can froth shit from your backside as much as I’ve heard you do from your mouth,” Antigone shoots back, her head high beneath her parasol. Ser Avery goes quiet, and his head cocks to the side as he stares at her, his face unreadable. She stares him down, not backing down in the slightest. You flinch when he bursts into a fit of laughter, his head arched back as he laughs so loudly you wonder how [[his throat doesn’t hurt]].

“You know what, maybe this won’t be such a dull trip, after all.” He laughs for a few moments more, before he goes completely cold, his lips settling into a line. “But I will warn you, pale one… watch your mouth some, yeah? I’ve jailed people for less. Tortured for less, come to think of it.” “Is that a threat, sir knight?” “No. Just a thought to keep in mind; the Pilgrimage is only for a short time. We will eventually return to Derinstad.” The conversation dies, and leaves an awkward, tense silence in its wake. Exactly what you want in the quickly rising heat and [[the baking sun.]]

Several hours pass in mostly silence still. Once the full heat of the day set in, it sapped your whole group of whatever ability to comprehend words and put them into sentences it had, alongside the tenseness from earlier. You look to your companions, and find they aren’t fairing any better than you are; even after you ditched your coat earlier. Ser Avery’s tan skin has a reddish tint to it, and droplets of sweat bead down his face. His shirt sticks to his chest, and he sits with his shoulders slumped and his back arched. Antigone looks even worse. What’s visible of her pale, translucent skin is such a dark shade of red it looks almost purple. Even with her parasol out and thin clothes covering almost all of her skin, it still looks like she’ll be severely sunburnt by the time you make camp. Her eyes are droopy, you notice, and she seems to be breathing awfully harsh. You turn your sights to Fernela lastly, finding her fairing the best out of the three. She seems comfortable in the heat, with her hat keeping the sun out of her eyes. Her face is set determinedly… you wonder what she could be thinking of. >[[Check in on Antigone.]] >[[Check in on Ser Avery.]] >[[Reflect on how you're doing.]]

antigonefri: +1 -- You steer your horse towards Antigone and close the distance until you’re riding alongside her. “Tiggi? Are you alright?” “I, um.” Her eyes flutter for a moment as she tries to take a deep breath. “I don’t tolerate heat or sun very well. The summer is not… very kind to people with my condition.” “That would explain things… do you need to rest? I think we could all use one, to be honest. None of us look well.” “Soon, very soon, yes. But we can keep going for a little while. Maybe a half an hour?” Your lips form a slight frown as you look over her, then your other companions again. It’d be unwise to push yourselves beyond your limit in this heat. It’d be better to rest through the most intense parts of the heat, and continue on when it cools some, lest you want to risk [[heat sickness.->checkinmeet]]

seraveryfri: +1 -- You decide to check in on Ser Avery, to see how he's doing. You direct your horse in his direction, and when you come up alongside him, those icy blue eyes find yours. "Are you alright?" You ask softly, looking over him. He unclasped his chestplate some hours ago, letting you see just how soaked to the bone he is. He offers a small smile. "Checking in on me, are you?" "Obviously. It's damned hot out here and I wanted to be sure you were doing okay." His eyes flicker away and he frowns for a moment. "To be honest, My Majesty, I'd enjoy an ice bath right about now." "Honestly, I would as well. I'd enjoy _ice_ right about now." "Gods, wouldn't it be nice for a sudden cool wind to blow?" He sighs, but turns back to you. "I'll survive, I promise. I've dealt with worse conditions." "Seriously? Gods above, I'd rather never deal with worse than this." He smiles wryly. "We don't know what's coming for us on this Pilgrimage, do we?" You nod and fall back into position, thinking about that. Are there regions even hotter than this you might have to pass through? You certainly [[hope not.->checkinmeet]]

It's boiling hot out here. Your skin is horribly painful, swollen from the heat and the blisters beginning to form. This is no good, [[no good at all.->checkinmeet]]

You catch up to Ser Avery, thinking about the heat. “Ser Avery.” “Mm.” “We should rest. Or, well, at least until the heat dwindles a bit, don’t you agree?” He blinks slowly, and his head turns just as slowly, until he’s looking into your eyes. You see his eyes go from glazed to more focused, inspecting your face, then glancing between Antigone and Fernela. “Shit. Yes, we should, before we end up killing over from the shit.” He spurs his horse forward and you can see his head whipping from left to right repeatedly, searching for a clearing suitable enough. You look down to your horse and gently pet {horse}'s mane. You grimace at the amount of sweat you find there, but it also reinforces the need for rest. Should you lose the horses to this blighted heat… well, it would be a very short journey, [[yes indeed.]]

“Over here!” Ser Avery calls from rather far ahead on the road. You urge your horse to go faster to reach him. He’s found a small clearing next to the road, right alongside a pond. It’s encapsulated by a thick canopy from old trees and several viny plants hold the branches together. It’s truly like a gift from the Gods from the heat. You hop off of your horse, wincing as your sore backside smarts, and you find your steps are more close to a waddle as you lead {horse} over to the pond. You tie her to a tree near it, and can’t help but drop to your knees beside her to dunk your head in the pond. You hiss as the cool water hits your overheated skin. As your head comes out of the water, you gulp great handfuls of it down. You look over as you hear more splashes and see your companions have followed suit, even Ser Avery. You pull both your waterskins from your belt and refill them, then yank your stubborn boots and socks off. You fall back into the soft grass, the shade a cool respite from the scorching sun. You lay there, your eyes closed, as everything else becomes background noise. Your mind wanders away from the canopied shelter into nothingness, just a peaceful [[darkness in your mind]].

“Not a fan of our lovely weather?” You crack one eye open at Ser Avery’s remark. You find him standing above you briefly, before taking a seat nearby on the grass, his cuirass off beside him and his undershirt’s string undone. One of his legs is splayed out while the other is bent with his forearm resting on the knee. “Not particularly. You don’t seem to fancy it any better, however.” “Fuck no.” He snorts as he takes a cloth from his pocket and wipes his face and neck. “I loathe the heat. I’m from northern Derinstad, where the heat rarely gets this fucking miserable.” “I imagine running about in partial plate armor doesn’t do you any favors?” “No. Absolutely not, no.” He flings himself backward, his arms behind his head. His breath comes out as a great sigh. “Truthfully, I prefer nice leathers, but knights have to wear at least partial plate. Bloody stupid.” “Aww, you poor thing.” You crack a smile as Antigone teases him as she walks into view, taking a seat to your other side, her back against a rather large oak tree. “Oh, yes, poor me. Would love to see you try it, though, pale one.” His head lolls over to where he can look at her behind you. “I doubt you’d even be able to lift the leg plates.” “I’m not that weak,” she protests, but when both you _and_ Fernela raise your brows to her, she deflates a smidge. “Please, tell me, dear Tiggi, can you even lift a forty pound sack of flour? For I’ve only ever seen Fernela lift it for you.” You try to keep your lips from smiling, but it doesn’t work very well. “Oh, you shut it, you. I can… _probably_ lift it myself. [[Probably.”]]

“Sure you can,” Ser Avery coos, his voice full of mocking. “Just as likely as you can wear my plate armor and walk more than a step or two in it.” “It’s okay, Tiggi, I’ll lift anything heavy you need moving,” you tease her with a wink. Her eyes go big and she quickly gets up, hobbling away. “I’m done with the lot of you. I’ll be over in _this_ patch of shade,” she points near the opening to the area, “reading, until we move on.” “You have fun with that,” you half-yawn, stretching a little bit. “Truthfully, I could use a nap.” “I say we move soon, for we don’t want to lose too much sunlight,” Ser Avery murmurs. You sigh, but you know he’s right. You’ve only got… maybe… three days to reach The Pilgrim’s Cupboard, and you can’t afford to lose much time at all. “Shall I start an hourglass?” Fernela pipes up, ruffling through her bag, “And we leave when it’s half-full?” “Yes.” You lie there for a few minutes longer, but there _is_ time to do something else… should you want to. >[[Check in on {horse}.]] >[[Turn to Ser Avery.]] >[[Join Antigone.]]

[if horse == 'Berry'] You look over to {horse} as she grazes next to the pond, her mane flicking as she twitches away from the flies bothering her. You slowly get to your feet, wincing as your sore muscles aching with every movement. When you’re on your feet, you walk over to her, and pull a brush for her from one of your bags. You push it through her fur, trying to help slough off the sweat still clinging to her. [if horse == 'Cream'] You look over to {horse} as she grazes next to the pond, her mane flicking as she twitches away from the flies bothering her. You slowly get to your feet, wincing as your sore muscles aching with every movement. When you’re on your feet, you walk over to her, and pull a brush for her from one of your bags. You push it through her fur, trying to help slough off the sweat still clinging to her. [else] You look over to {horse} as he grazes next to the pond, his mane flicking as he twitches away from the flies bothering him. You slowly get to your feet, wincing as your sore muscles aching with every movement. When you’re on your feet, you walk over to him, and pull a brush for him from one of your bags. You push it through his fur, trying to help slough off the sweat still clinging to him. [continue] [if horse == 'Berry'] She chews at your pant leg, then moves back to grazing. You brush her shoulders, her sides, and then her hind quarters. When your arm begins to ache you finally stop, rinse the brush, and put it back in its little pouch among your bags. You move back to stand next to her head, gently patting her neck. She grunts again and lifts her head, eying you curiously as she chews her mouthful of grass. You scritch around her ears and forehead, then around her jaw. “You alright, girl?” You murmur quietly to her, looking over her. She’s clearly feeling the heat and the journey, but she seems fine. Faring better than the rest of you, anyway. You give her a last pat before grabbing a fresh pair of socks from your bag and return to where your boots still lay in the grass. [if horse == 'Anchor'] He grunts, but doesn't do much as you brush him. "We still have a long way to go, boy, but I still have carrots for you." His ears perk up at that. You gently pat his neck, to which he grunts, before leaving his side. [if horse == 'Cream'] She watches you cautiously as you brush her. You take it slow, keeping in her line of sight the entire time. As you move up to her shoulder, you offer her an apple, which she gratefully takes. "We still have a long way to go, girl. I wish we had more time to get to work together before pushing you so hard." She grunts, then lips your hand gently, before going back to grazing. You put the brush back in your belongings, but not before fully brushing out her mane. You pat her neck as you do so, then leave her to eat. [else] You begin to brush Star, his fur sodden with sweat. He doesn't seem to mind, but he does watch you every so often as you do so. As you move up his body, he takes a moment to nip at your pant leg, grumbling softly. "Sorry, pal, I'm just trying to help you." He grunts, then returns to his grazing. He neighs softly as you brush his mane, nuzzling your leg as you do so. "Do you like that, boy? Good, I'll do it more often on our journey." When you arm tires, you put the brush back in the bag. [continue] You grab a fresh pair of socks, and return to where your boots still lay in the grass. Ser Avery is also still lying there, one arm behind his head and the other over his eyes. You flop onto the ground near where you were previously and relax, for however long you have. [[Half-gone...]]

seraveryfri: +1 -- You turn to Ser Avery, who now lies in the grass, one arm under his head and the other over his eyes. You scoot closer to him, looking over him. You can see the muscles hidden under his shirt given how soaked it is, with each breath he takes. There's a small bit of chest hair peeking out of the top of his shirt, and his legs are made of hard muscle from what you can tell. He's an attractive man, you'll give him that much. "Like what you see?" He asks quietly. You look to his face to find an eye watching you curiously. >[["And if I do?"]] >[[You flush.]] >[["Just looking, is all."]]

You join Antigone in 'her' patch of grass. She doesn't seem to mind. She looks up from her book with a brow raised. "Come to tease some more?" "No, you silly, I've come to see how you are." She closes her book and turns to you. "I'm dealing. But between you and me, I hope we go north for some cooler weather." Your eyes lock for a moment, her pink ones seeming to... have a longing look in them. >[[You feel the same.]] >[[You take her hand.]] >[[You look away.]]

It wasn’t long. “It’s half-gone. Should we get ready to go?” Fernela informs as she slowly gets back to her feet. A chorus of groans meet her words, including one from you. You sit up and put on your fresh socks and wiggle your feet back into your boots as your group stirs again, getting ready to get back on the road. “Yes. Son of a bitch.” Ser Avery gets to his feet with another loud groan, stretching as he does so. He picks his cuirass back up and starts to re-lace it. [if horse == 'Berry' || horse == 'Cream'] You get back to your feet and move to {horse}, undoing her reins from around the tree and encouraging her towards the entrance of the clearing. She resists for a moment, but then she comes along, neighing quietly. [if horse == 'Anchor' || horse == 'Star'] You get back to your feet and move to {horse}, undoing his reins from around the tree and encouraging him towards the entrance of the clearing. He resists for a moment, but then he comes along, neighing quietly. [continue] You pull yourself up into the saddle as the others do, and as one, you exit back out onto the road, and continue on through the blistering sun for however many [[hours of daylight remain.]]

seraveryflirt: +1 -- "And if I do?" He chuckles, tucking his eye away again. "Mmm. Ever the tempting. What are you going to do when I take you up on one of these offers?" "I guess you'll just have to see, won't you?" He grins. "I guess so." You lay back near him, and he allows it, for the time you have left. [align center] [[Half-gone...]]

You flush immediately at his gaze. He chuckles, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. "I like when you do that. It's ever so tempting. If you weren't the heir to Derinstad, I'd try to see how far that blush goes." Your stomach knots eagerly at his words. "O-Oh. I see." "I'd like to, myself." You feel more flustered and proceed to lay down next to him, but not facing him. He doesn't seem to mind, but you can still feel that one eye on you for most of the time. [[Half-gone...]]

"Just looking, is all." "Mhmm. Any particular reason?" "Nope. Not one." You turn your attention away from him as you lay out in the grass yourself. [[Half-gone...]]

antigoneflirt: +1 -- You feel the same. You have feelings for her, more than just friend feelings, but you... aren't sure how to express them. And changing the status of your relationship is scary business; what if you misunderstood? "{name}?" She asks, a little breathless. "Yes?" "U-Um... n-nothing. Well!" She stumbles over her words, her fingers tightening around her book. "Do you... want to get something to eat together when we reach the inn?" "I'd like that." "Good! Good." To spare her, you relax beside her, laying in the grass. As you drift in and out, you feel her hand gently pat your hair. [align center] [[Half-gone...]]

antigoneflirt: +1 -- You gently take her burnt hand, holding it in your hand. She stutters, but can't seem to make any words. "Yes?" You ask, unable to help but tease her a little. "Y-You... are so evil," she grumbles, but squeezes your hand gently. "Mhmm, very evil." "Do... Do you want t-to get a bite of food with me at the inn later?" "Yeah, I'd like that." "Good! Good." You slump into the grass beside her, but never letting her hand go. She doesn't seem to mind at all. [align center] [[Half-gone...]]

antigonefri: +1 -- You look away, thinking carefully. You are friends... and that's all you want to be. She seems to pick up on the mood shift and goes back to reading, but when you hazard a look out of the corner of your eye she seems... disappointed. You decide to go back to your boots to relax in the grass. [align center] [[Half-gone...]]

On the third day, with only a few hours to spare to reach The Pilgrim’s Cupboard, you and your companions have found another paved road, and by Ser Avery’s prediction, you should be finding the said tavern in short time. Thank the Gods for it. Your arse has at least four individual blisters on it from the saddle, your thighs are starting to chafe, even with the help of the cream Izzy put in your bag, and even with your bedroll to cushion you against the ground, you’ve hardly slept. You don’t care how lumpy or uncomfortable the mattress will be at the tavern, as long as it’s a _bed_ off of the _ground_. “Look, there, in the distance,” Ser Avery breaks the silence, his hand pointing dead in front of you. You squint, and… see a rather large building, with a stable half-filled with horses. Smoke pours from its roof. “Is that it?” You feel excitement, apprehension, so many things. A bed to sleep in, hot meals cooked by someone other than yourselves… but you’ll be going on The Great Pilgrimage soon, however long and grueling it may be. For sure it’ll be longer than just three days on the road. “Yes, yes that’s it. C’mon, we can rest the horses when we get there.” He spurs his horse on with a cry, and you follow suit, bringing the horses to a run. Their hooves beat on the ground, the clopping cutting through the air. “Get your damned coat on, {name}.” You have to clench your jaw to not snap back at him, but you do as he says. You tuck your hood around your face, doing your best to keep it as far down your face as possible. You only hope the dark clouds overhead will stay for a while; the last thing you want is heat sickness because you have to wear this [[damned thing.]]

The tavern is now clear to see: it’s walls are made of dark wooden planks, its roof tiled with black. The stabled are built similarly, and clearly made for several customers; they seem even larger than the ones in the merchants’ stables back in Derinstad. You all slow your horses as you near the stables. A young man comes from somewhere inside, dressed in a bright-colored shirt open to his navel and dark blue pants. His dark hair is pulled back in a great mass, and he cocks his hip as he waits for you to close the distance. “Will you lot be staying, or are you leaving on The Pilgrimage on the morrow?” “Pilgrims, we be,” Ser Avery responds as the four of you come to a stop in front of him. “Does it matter?” “Yes, it matters. All Pilgrims’ horses are in front so you can get to ‘em easily. It’ll be five silver a horse, it goes up an extra one if you run late on the morrow to get them when the others do.” “Of course.” You dig out your five silver, as do the others, and drop them into Ser Avery’s hand. He then gives them to the man, and you all get off of your horses. You pull your bags from the saddle and hold her reins as the man calls for a few hands to assist. One of them, a young woman who likely hasn’t even seen her twentieth summer yet, collects the reins from your hand with a meek smile. You move away as she leads {horse} away, and after all the horses are out of sight, the four of you exchange looks. “We ready?” You ask quietly, your fingers gripping your bags a little too tightly. “We actually made it here,” Antigone half-laughs, shaking her head. Her skin looks not too good, with the severe sunburns and puffiness. It’ll be good for her to be out of the sun, even if it’s only for half a day. “It’s kind of unbelievable. We’re going on The Great Pilgrimage.” “I didn’t know you were devout, Beetle,” Ser Avery comments as he adjusts his cuirass. “I am, yes, _thank you_,” she snipes back, her chin up. “I know this is trying to help you,” she nods to you, “but… I must say, I’m excited. To see the Seats… it’s not something I thought I’d get to do, not for a long time, at least.” “It’s exciting, I agree.” You smile at her from under your hood, lightly nudging her. “Here’s to hoping it’s everything people say it is.” “Come, let’s go.” Ser Avery turns away from the three of you, leading the way to the [[front of the tavern]].

You take in a deep breath, your heart fluttering nervously, as you follow him, Antigone and Fernela right behind you. You hang your head, trying to remind yourself you can’t risk anyone seeing your face. _Right…_ This is going to be a pain in the arse, you can already tell. [[Chapter 1]]

seraveryfri: +1 -- “Fine, then, if I’m such hapless royalty, help me up into the saddle.” You hold your hands out to him as he comes closer, the grin never leaving his face. He gets within reach and pauses, those deep blue eyes roaming your face for a long moment… You let out a loud gasp as he moves so quickly, so suddenly, that you’re barely scrabbling to get ahold of his shoulder as one of his hands wraps around under your thigh while the other grabs the back of your calf and lifts you effortlessly over the horse and then down on the saddle. His hands immediately leave once you’re settled, but he lingers for a moment, one of his brows lifting. “Do you need anything further, My Majesty, or can we get on with it? I would like to leave the city well before noon.” >[["I-I'm fine." You feel flustered at where his hands were.]] >[["I don't know... maybe we should do it again." Flirt with him.]] >[["You're a right bastard, you know that?"]]

{embed passage: 'Check in on {horse}.'}

You spot him over on the bar, talking to one of the bartenders, likely reliving one of his old tales from his youth. Upon your approach, he turns to you with a smile. “Aye, kid, you got’r done?” “All done, Papan. Anything else you need?” “Nawr, but thank you for the quick work. Here you are,” he offers a small coin purse, which you gratefully take. “Might have somethin’ for ye tomorrow, if you feel up to it.” >[["I'll see if I can make room in my schedule."]] >[["You can count on it."]] >[["I don't know, I'll let you know."]]

"I'll see if I can make room in my schedule," you jest with a smile. He roars a laugh. "Aye, that's a good'n, kid. I'll see you tomorrow." He claps you on the back, the turns back to the bartender. “As I was sayin’...” {embed passage: 'Next2'}

“You can count on it.” He claps you on the back, the turns back to the bartender. “As I was sayin’...” {embed passage: 'Next2'}

"I don't know, I'll have to let you know." "That's fine, don't fret over it." He claps you on the back, the turns back to the bartender. “As I was sayin’...” {embed passage: 'Next2'}

You leave him, and the tavern, to head to your next destination: you have a courier from the Seven Snakes Guild to meet. One of the few thieving guilds in the entirety of Derinstad, they are currently upstarts… and you have plans to join them as soon as possible. You have not the education for merchanting nor scholastic pursuits, but you _are_ a talented thief, and a well-practiced one at that. After Da left and Ma died, you had no choice but to become a good thief to survive. Many of the other urchins didn’t, but you weren’t among the unlucky. The unfortunate. You still remember many of their names, their faces, and you put out a candle for them at night. Well, you have for the last half a year, since your friend Antigone Beetle gave you a room to stay in. A kind woman, that Ms. Beetle… but you can’t rely on her for your entire life. You have to do something, and who’s to fault you for going with what skills you have? You make your way through the poorer parts of the Market District, then through the Residental District, your sights set on an alley in the Merchant District, just some walking away. Smart, these thieves; using the bustling of the Merchant District to cover up their schemes. You’ve done it many times yourself. You reach the Merchant District in record time. You look around, spying Antigone’s parents’ store and skirt around it; the last thing you need right now is for Antigone to spot you, call you over, and grill you on what you are doing here. So, you take another alley opposite of the shop, and proceed to come out about a block down. Looking around, you see Madam Zwerta’s. Your contact said they would be nearby, so as smoothly as you can manage, you make your way around the [[building.]]

name: 'Orian' -- “{text input for: 'name'}? That you?” “Yeah, it’s me,” you answer quietly as you round a corner and find the young girl who runs for the guild. She smiles, then hands you a scroll. Shit. “Did they… happen to give you the details in words?” You ask innocently, trying to not reveal that you can’t properly read. “Yeah, sure did! Ahem,” she clears her throat, “They want you to meet them tomorrow night, here, before the moon is fully out.” “Got it; tell them I’ll be here.” You take the scroll and hide it away. “Any idea what the job is?” “No, but it sounds big! The whole guild seems excited! You should be honored, this is really good!” >[["I am! I'm very excited."]] >[["We'll see, based on what the job is."]]

“I am! I’m very excited. Thanks again, Evie.” “Sure, sure! I’ll let you leave, then head out myself.” {embed passage: 'Evie'}

"We'll see, based on what the job is. Thanks anyway, Evie." "Sure, but I think you should be more excited! This seems huge." She looks around. "I'll let you leave first, then head out myself." {embed passage: 'Evie'}

You nod and proceed back out onto the street, blending in easily with the crowd as they make their way towards the Wealthy District. You take a detour midway there, going off with the part of the populace headed back towards the Residential District; you might be able to catch Antigone before she leaves for work. You make it ‘home’ in record time after detaching from the crowd. You open the door with your key… and do indeed find Antigone still at home. However, the cart is hitched up to her horses and Fernela is around, so it must be nearly time for work. Her pale head pops up, her pink eyes wide for a moment before they register you. “Oh, hi, {name}! How’d the job go?” “Pretty fine,” you respond as you pull up a chair, sitting to not have your sweaty back pressed against the cushion. “How’s your day been so far?” “Quiet, but I’m about to head for the Market, so we’ll see how long that lasts,” she groans, putting her book down. “You’re sopping wet! I cleaned some of your laundry, so at least you will have something to change into after a nice bath.” “Oh. Thanks, I appreciate it, Tiggi.” “Sure! I just wanted to help; you’ve been doing a lot of hard jobs lately.” “Yeah, that’s true.” _But hopefully not for much [[longer]]._

You tap your fingers on the chair. “Do you think we could fit in a lesson tonight?” “For reading? Sure, I don’t mind. I’m always happy to have them with you, you know that.” “I know, I just…” You rub the back of your neck, not sure of what you are, or are justing, actually. “It’s not a burden to need something, {name}. I’m glad to help you how I can.” She gets up and gently rests her hand on your head. “That much I can promise.” >[[You lean into her hand.]] >[[You move away.]]

antigonefri: +1 -- You lean into her hand, your eyes closing. She doesn’t seem to mind the sweat as she gently massages your scalp. You relax into her touch for a few moments more, before opening your eyes again and pulling away. “I’d best shower; I can only imagine how I might smell.” “You just smell like salt. Nothing bad.” But she shrugs and returns to her seat on the couch, picking the book back up. “Are you good to make dinner tonight?” “Yeah, sure. I’ll make it.” You get up and put the chair back at the kitchen table. “Want me to use a heat rune to keep it warm?” “If you don’t mind, yeah!” [align center] [[Bathroom Time.]]

You move away. "You don't want to touch me, I must stink to the high heavens." "Not really; you smell like salt." But she removes her hand. "Are you good to make dinner tonight?" “Yeah, sure. I’ll make it.” You get up and put the chair back at the kitchen table. “Want me to use a heat rune to keep it warm?” “If you don’t mind, yeah!” [align center] [[Bathroom Time.]]

With that, you head towards your room. It’s sparsely decorated, as most of your money goes towards helping Antigone pay for land taxes and groceries, but you have a few things of your own: mainly, _clothes_. It’s one of your favorite things about working: actually having clean clothes to change into finally. You grab some clothes, then head back out to the bathroom. You strip your clothes off and come over to the mirror, looking into it carefully. Your {dropdown menu for: 'eyecolor', choices: ['emerald', 'sapphire', 'topaz', 'onyx']} colored eyes gleam in the light coming in from the window. Your {dropdown menu for: 'haircolor', choices: ['brown', 'black', 'red', 'blond']}-colored hair is its usual {dropdown menu for: 'hairlength', choices: ['very short', 'short', 'shoulder-length', 'waist-length']} length, but it looks a little longer from being drenched in sweat. You turn away from the mirror and toss the clean clothes you brought onto the lip of the sink, then start running water into the bath. You adjust the runes to make it warm but not hot, given you have already been baking in the sun most of the morning. After it’s full, you sink into it, enjoying the warmth against your skin. [align center] [[Sometime later...]]

Some time after your bath, you are back in the living room, though it’s now vacant of Antigone, much to your regret. She’s such a sweet woman… and kind. She has added a lot to your life, even in the small time of knowing her. You might even say you have a small crush on her; it is hard not to, given all she has done for you and how sweet she is. You also like how she treats people in general; from her giving the street urchins food after hours to how she took in you after the two of you became friends. She’s… wonderful, to put it simply. You shake your head of those thoughts, and think of what’s to come. Your final test to join the Seven Snakes Guild is coming tomorrow night, and above all, you _must_ be prepared for it. This is your ticket to getting out of hard labor for the rest of your life. The best option to continue helping Antigone with her home. Yeah. Best option, indeed. You lay back on the couch, staring at the ceiling. There’s still so much to do, but what can you do about it? The very details coming tomorrow might already be on the scroll you have, but you can’t _read_ the damned thing. [[What a mess.]]

Antigone gets home a little after dark, her pale face a light shade of red. “Hi, {name}!” She greets as she comes inside, Fernela behind her. “Is that dinner? It smells delicious.” “I’ll be honest; I went by the Dockman’s and got you some onion soup you love so much.” You put the bowl of onion soup on the table along with some sliced bread and butter. “{name}! Thank you, that’s so sweet of you.” She takes the seat in front of it and proceeds to begin to devour it. “Gods, this is so good.” “All food tastes amazing after a day of hard work; learned that meself.” “Very true!” You wait for her to eat, the paper, pen, and inkwell already prepared to start. Honestly, you look forward to these sessions; they are hard, and sometimes… you feel insecure about not being able to read or write properly, but she teaches so well, it’s worth swallowing pride to be her [[student.]]

“Okay, can you read this word?” Antigone asks, handing you the paper. “C-A-T. Cat?” “Right! Here’s another.” She takes the paper back, scribbles something down, and hands it back over. “Try this.” “B-b-b-ir-d. Bird?” “Yes! You’re doing great. Let’s try a sentence with both.” You wait patiently as she writes something down, then hands it back to you. “T-Th-The cat C-H-A-S-E… ch-ch-ace- chases?” “Right! Keep going!” “The cat ch-chases the bird.” “Good job! You’re doing so well.” [align center] [[A little later...]]

The night follows a similar pattern until the moon is up high in the sky. At that point, you have read several short sentences, and actually done pretty well doing so. Antigone lets out a loud yawn. “Okay, {name}, that’s all for tonight. I’m ready for bed.” “That’s fine! Yeah, I’m beat, myself.” “We can do more tomorrow, if you want.” You consider that proposition, but know it won’t work; you have to meet your contacts with the Guild tomorrow night. “I would, but I have to meet some of the older kids to help them get ready for tourist season.” “Aww, that’s fair. I hope things go well for them and they get work.” “Me, too.” With that, you both rise, and head towards the hallway to your rooms. You see her off at her room with a sleepy good-night, then head on down to your room. You close your door and store your scroll in your dresser, then dress down and climb into bed. It’s the most comfortable bed you have ever slept in; maybe because it is your own bed, or because it is the first bed you have had since you were a child. A pathetic thought, but true none the less. You turn over, snuggling into your comfortable blankets and pillows, and fall into a dreamless [[sleep sometime later.]]

You move through the Merchant District with practiced ease. The night is young, but the guards are out and you are having to carefully avoid the bastards to get where you need to go. You follow a well-trodden path towards Madam Zwerta’s, pausing only when you see movement on the street, and you reach the shop with little time to waste. Around the back you go, and just as you round the corner- A dagger finds itself at your throat. “Identify yourself,” a familiar voice hisses. “{name}!” The dagger is withdrawn. “Sorry, kid. Just had to make sure.” >[["You could've bloody well killed me!"]] >[["Understood. What's the job?"]] >[["You always greet people like that?"]]

"You could've blood well killed me!" "Don't be dramatic; if I wanted to kill, I would have." Well. He has a point there, you suppose. {embed passage: 'Zandor'}

“Understood. So, what’s my job?” “Straight to business, eh? I like that.” {embed passage: 'Zandor'}

"You always greet people like that?" You hiss. "Only when they come up on me at night." Zandor shrugs. "That's business." "Not a great way to run it." "Says you." "Yeah. Says me." {embed passage: 'Zandor'}

Zandor pulls a scroll from his sleeve and lights a candle he’d had on the ground. “The Guild wants you to break into the Keep via the servant tunnels. Once inside, you will make your way to the Tyrian’s office and steal the Amulet of Kings.” “Break into the Keep? Are you mad?” “No. We have a thorough plan made for you; you just have to follow it and get the job done.” Zandor shrugs. “You can accept it or not, but I doubt they will offer you another job any time soon.” “I… and there’s a thorough plan for this?” “Yes.” [[“I’ll take it.”]]

He hands over the scroll. “Follow me. We’ve found a servant tunnel that is only used during the day; we’ve set up a watch on it for the past week, and we have you servant clothes to change into to better fit in.” You follow him through the back alleys, careful to not step on rubbish or other nonsense on the ground. He moves like the night, silent and dark. You try to emulate his movements and find ways to alter your normal stealthy movements to perform even better. The other kind of training you need: perfecting your thievery. You should be able to do that, granted you get into the Guild. He winds his way through the streets, ending at the trench that encircles the Keep. “Come, this way.” He leads you to a drainage tunnel, motioning to it. “Take this; then on the other side, the servant’s path is directly forward. The clothes are waiting for you inside of it. From there, you’ll go straight until you hit the throne room, and after the throne room, you go to the room behind the throne which is his office.” “Okay… and you are sure about this? Completely sure?” “Yeah. We have a few servants working with us; it’s how we got the clothing.” That gives you some relief; potentially having someone on the inside who will turn the other way will help in a bad scenario. “Okay. Off I go.” You crouch and start down the tunnel. There is unknown sludge at the bottom, and you definitely passed some rats, but nothing worse than sleeping in a rotten building. Drainage tunnels have also been safe havens for you before; you certainly won’t disrespect this one by being [[grossed out.]]

It takes several minutes of crawling, but eventually you do come out on the other side. And, like Zandor said, straight ahead is the servant’s path. You hurry over to it, your head whipping around for anyone in eyesight, but thankfully, the guards are busy staring the other way. You get inside the path, quickly change your clothes into the ones waiting on the hook, and start down the new tunnel. It’s poorly lit, but it is enough to see exactly where to put your feet in front of you. Your footfalls echo throughout the tunnel, making you a little eerie; what if someone hears? You shake away that thought. Too late now; you are locked on course. No turning back. No changing the plan. Only way to go is forward. You reach a small storage room attached to the tunnel, and without thinking, you scour the shelves for anything good. You find fresh potatoes that you stuff in your pocket; ah, Antigone will be thrilled to have homemade mash again, that is for sure. After a thorough look, you continue on forward. You pass through a sleeping quarters, but again… you hunker down and keep your movements as silent as humanly possible. Someone stirs, and you freeze beside the bed of what must be the loudest snorer in the world. The person stirring rolls over, opposite of where you must go, and you continue on. On and on… You reach the throne room. You are a little in awe; you have never seen the Tyian’s throne before, nor ever dreamed of doing so. You go up to it and run your mucky hands along its royal red interior; so plush and soft, fit for the Tyian for sure. You hear heavy footfalls coming and duck behind the throne, your heart beginning to race. The footfalls come closer. Closer. _[[Closer.]]_

“I know you’re here, little miscreant,” a deep voice murmurs from somewhere far in front of you. That voice is familiar… oh, Gods, it’s the Commanding Knight! Ser Avery is known for showing little mercy to criminals… you must not be caught. Gods know what he will do to you if he does. His footfalls edge closer, before turning towards the sleeping quarters and disappearing in that direction. You peek out and see the back of his black cuirass leaving, and make your move. You skitter to the office door, and when you find it locked, you quickly pull out a pin and knife. It doesn’t take you more than a few seconds to pop the lock and get the door open. You hurry in, closing it quietly behind you. Luxurious doesn’t even begin to describe the room. Plush seats are scattered here and there, and a large walnut desk sits in the center of the room. Rows and rows of books are on shelves that go at least five rows back, and all looking aged. The money that must have been put into here… But that thought wanes as something else catches your eye. On the second story is a stand, showing what _must_ be the [[Amulet of Kings]]. It has a triangular piece attached to it, with a great, blood red ruby adorning it. The necklace itself is made of pure gold.

Your eyes locked on the Amulet, you make your way up the stairs, quickly. Quietly. It isn’t until the top stair that one creaks loudly. You freeze, listening for movement. No sound comes, other than the settling of the shelves, and that’s when you move forward. Closer, closer to the stand. The ruby is even more beautiful up close. It practically screams to be stolen, with how nicely it shines. You pick it up, feeling the weight of it in your hands. A clap comes from behind you. You spin around, finding the one and only Ser Avery standing in the doorway, his attention fixed on you. “Well, well. Seems I found a little mouse that is somewhere it shouldn’t be.” Without answering, you put the amulet around your neck. Something strange happens; like cold water running over your head. It settles strangely on your chest; both heavy and oddly light. “Now, little mouse, I’mma need that back. And I’ll need you in chains for this.” He starts forward, moving surprisingly fast for the armor he’s wearing. _Shit!_ You wildly look around and spy a window all the way at the back of the floor. You run. _[[Run!]]_

You put all your force into running. Never in your life have you felt adrenaline in your veins like this; never once. You can hear heavy footfalls as he comes closer, now running to keep up with you. As you approach the window, you realize you have two options: throw yourself against it and hope you can catch yourself on something on the roof, or try to open the window and climb out safely. >[[Climb out safely.]] >[[Barrel through it.]]

You choose to try to open the window. You bolt for it, trying to put as much speed in your legs as possible and as much space between you and him as you can. Reaching the window, you are so relieved to find it unlocked. You throw it open, and fling yourself out of it. You feel a momentary catch: he has you by your clothes! But then a loud _RIIIIP_ sounds and you are free! Again! You hear him curse as you race to the edge of the roof and find a trellis to climb down, just as he manages to get out of the window. You run for one of the drainage tunnels, but cannot help but turn around to [[look at him.]]

You keep running, and fling yourself through the glass. It shatters in an array of bits of glass, and you hit the roof rolling. You grab wildly to find something to hold onto, but you're going over the edge- A trellis! Part of it breaks under you, but you catch yourself a little further down and use it to climb down the rest of the way, just as he manages to get out of the window. You run for one of the drainage tunnels, but cannot help but turn around to [[look at him.]]

“Son of a bitch,” he roars. He jabs a finger at you. “You win for now, mouse. But don’t forget I know what you look like.” “We’ll see,” you call back, then hurriedly burrow through the tunnel. Well. You did it. You won, against Ser Avery himself. Feeling mighty pleased, you come out of the tunnel to Zandor waiting. “My Gods, you actually have it.” “Sure do.” As you go to take it off, something… happens. Pain radiates up your arm and into your face, causing you to cry out and your legs to buckle. The pain sears through your right eye and the right half of your face, and all you can do is clutch at it and hope it stops. _[[Stop stop stop stopstopstop-]]_

“What the hells is going on!” Zandor demands, holding the candle to your face. “By Avo, what is that on your _face_?” “What? What’s on my face?” He grabs your arm and drags you to a nearby puddle, holding the candle to it so you can see. There’s now a royal red mark over your right eye, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It outlines your entire eye in a thick line, with the one on your top lid curving up at the inner corner until it touches your brow, while the lower lid curves at your outer corner and looks something like an upside down curly cat tail on your cheek bone. “Oh my gods. What is this?” Zandor backs away, holding the candle in front of him. “Listen, {name}, I don’t know what has happened but I- I- I’m going to go inform the guild. You go home and wait to hear from me, okay?” He doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he bolts away into the night, leaving you alone and terrified. You have to get home. [[To Antigone]].

It takes nearly an hour to get home with how dark it is outside. Even with you knowing all the corners, the fear coursing through your veins keeps you from thinking straight. But eventually, home does swim into view. As does Antigone on the couch, reading as she always does. You wish things were like they normally are. You wish for normalcy right this very minute. As you come inside, Antigone looks up in excitement- then horror at your face. “{name}? Wh-What’s that on your face? Why are you covered in mud? Is that blood?” “It’s a long story… Do you have time for me to tell you?” “I always have time for you.” You sit down on the floor across from her and prepare to tell her everything you just did in the past hour. Expose all your dirty little secrets to your one and only friend, and hope she doesn’t reject you for it. [align center] [[The next morning...]]

The next morning is… eventful, to say the least. As you wake, you hear someone talking from the living room that you don’t recognize. You pull on your clothes and quickly leave your room to join whatever party is in there. As you exit into the kitchen, you spot an aged, brittle-looking man seated beside Antigone. Antigone jumps up when she hears you coming. “{name}! This is Marcos; he’s a magic expert. I had my parents summon him for us.” Marcos smiles kindly, his beady eyes twinkling. “Hello, {name}. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.” “As do I.” You come forward, grabbing a chair to sit across from them both. “As you can see, there’s something scrawled over my eye that shouldn’t be there.” “Yes, yes… I do see that. Might I see your hand? I need a direct connection to you to understand what is happening.” You offer your hand, and he carefully takes it between his hands, drawing it to his forehead. He bows his head for a few moments, before gasping wildly and dropping your hand. “Oh! Oh, messairs, this is… this is dark magic. This is a powerful, ancient curse. What horrors this will bring upon you…” “Horrors?” You repeat, your heart dropping through your stomach. “Just how bad is this?” “Oh, my dear {name}, what future awaits you is one filled with pain and misery. You will not be able to part with the amulet; no, I daresay you will die if you part.” He shakes his head vigorously. “But you will wither and wilt away to a mindless, shriveled creature if it remains. Plagues will ravage the land, and spread across the countries as far as people exist.” “Oh my Gods. What do we do?” Antigone asks, her face reflecting the terror you feel. To die or to wither away, while the entire world is laid waste to. [[What a horrific fate]].

“The… The Great Pilgrimage is starting in five days. I daresay, that is your only hope. To win the favor of one of the Gods and pray they can break this curse.” “Is that really the only option? There’s nothing you can do?” Your voice doesn’t even sound like you at the moment, as it is thick with emotion. “Yes, I’m sorry to say, there is nothing these old hands can do to fix this.” He rises, nodding. “Go on the Pilgrimage. Meet with the Gods. All you will need is one’s favor to help.” With that, he leaves, leaving the two of you in silence. A silence Antigone eventually breaks. “So, when shall we leave?” “What?” “When shall we leave? We must go soon, I imagine; I know the inn that the Pilgrimage takes place at is some ways away.” “You- You’re actually considering this? Antigone-” “I will not sit here and let you die, alongside the rest of the world.” Her voice is hard, moreso than you have ever heard it be. “We will leave on the morrow. It’s decided. Be sure you have packed; I have to arrange for us to find horses.” Leaving you in stunned silence, she gets up and heads outside, likely to tell Fernela what the plan is. You slowly stand, thinking carefully over what is to come. Well. It looks like you are going on [[The Great Pilgrimage]].

The next morning comes not long after your spell with Marcos. Antigone wakes you early in the morning, and you quickly pack your essentials: a lockpick set, some clothes, and what little savings you have. You meet her outside, with her horses ready. “We’ll be stopping by the stables on the way out of the city, {name}. Pa pulled some strings and got us four horses to choose from for you.” “Your parents are okay with this?” “I told them you had contracted a fatal illness and a cleric warned us that the Gods may be the only ones able to cure it.” “Sorry for that, {name}. I really hope they can help,” Fernela pipes in. “I do, too, Fernela.” “Oh, {name}!” Antigone grabs something out of her cart, then hands it to you. “You nearly forgot this.” She offers you your weapon, a {dropdown menu for: 'weapon', choices: ['sword', 'spear', 'bow']}. You take it gratefully. “Thanks, Tiggi.” [align center] [[Next.->Next3]]

The three of you set off through the streets of Derinstad, the early morning light reminding you of the many mornings you woke with no shelter above. Sometimes you miss being greeted by the first rays of the sun, but not enough to relinquish your home. Not yet, anyway. No one is out and about at this time of the morning, thankfully; you just hope Ser Avery hasn’t warned the guards of someone of your appearance. The stables arrive quickly, and you get your first look at the horses available. A man named Gil stands waiting at the front of the stables, gruffly talking to a foal next to him. When he spies Antigone, he waves in greeting. “Antigone, my girl! How goes it?” “Hello, Gil! Are the horses ready?” “Of course, of course. Go on in and pick the one you want.” You follow Antigone inside, feeling nervous. She has taught you some horseback riding, but not enough that you feel confident with a horse. But, it is time to decide, and you turn your attention to the said four horses, looking over them closely. The first stall holds a strawberry roan mare with a tag on the door reading “Berry”, who watches you meekly over the said door. You take an apple from a basket set on a table off to the side and offer it to her. She lightly lips your hand, then the apple, then your hand again before snuffling the apple from your fingers. She crunches it loudly, devouring it almost as quickly as she took it from you. Then, she returns to your outreached hand, sniffing, before nuzzling the end of her snout into your palm. You laugh as you pat her snout, listening to her make a soft grunting noise. You pull away from her after a few pats to grab another apple and move to the second stall. A blue-grey blanket stallion is in this one, his head held high and slightly to the side as he watches you silently. You approach him, holding the apple where he can see. However, he seems disinterested and instead continues to shift to watch you. You look to his tag and find it says “Anchor”. "Nnnk, nnnk," you call to him, offering the apple. "C'mere, boy." He snorts loudly and turns away fully. You hear him start to eat the hay in the corner, and realize you've been dismissed by a horse. You sigh and move to the third stall, hoping for a better interaction with whichever horse is housed within. You hear a loud, angry neigh and a handler cursing as you move to where you can see inside the stall. A beautiful palomino is inside, currently fighting a handler. She has a single black splotch over her eye, which you see as her head gets turned towards you as the handler seems to give up and leaves, passing by you with an apology. The palomino watches you, breathing loudly. You approach and offer your apple over the gate. Her tag says her name is “Cream”. "C'mere, girl," you say softly, almost cooing, like you would a small upset child. She snorts again, stamping one of her front hooves… but does slowly begin to approach you. She watches you warily as she makes her way forward ever so slowly, until her snout is within reach of your hand and the apple. She sniffs at it, then your hand, and you freeze as she does. Several moments pass… and she grabs the apple and quickly takes it, crunching through it loudly. You keep your hand outstretched as you watch her… and she eventually returns her snout towards your hand, lipping it. She snorts when you pat her snout, her leg twitching as if she's wanting to flee but restraining herself. "Good girl," you murmur, scratching between her eyes. You continue for a small time, scritching her fur, before doing as you've done three times prior, you grab yet another apple and approach the final stall. Within this one is a black stallion with a white star upon his forehead. He's currently eating, and doesn't notice you. His tag states his name is “Star”. You whistle softly, and his head jerks up, oats falling everywhere, while some stay stuck to his face. He looks around until he finds you, though he only regards you in what seems to be mild interest. However, whenever you offer him the apple, his head quickly pops over the stall door and his oat-coated lips grasp it from your fingers, leaving slightly slobbery oats on your fingers. You wipe them on a coat hanging nearby with distaste, then return to him. His head is still over the stall door, but it seems more from lack of wanting to move further than anything else as you return to him, lightly placing your hand on his snout. He grunts but doesn’t do anything as you scritch through his fur. When you step away from him, you see Antigone watching you with a smile, her pink eyes intently focused. You will pick the {dropdown menu for: 'horse', choices: ['Berry', 'Anchor', 'Cream', 'Star']} [[horse->horse2]].

[if horse == 'Berry'] You choose the strawberry roan, her head still over the stall door, watching you. You walk back to her and pick up her reigns as you open her stall door, leading her out. She follows easily, softly grunting as she goes. [if horse == 'Anchor'] You choose the blue-grey blanket stallion, who stubbornly still is turned from you. Sighing, you open his stall door and pick up his reigns. He watches you, a mouthful of hay, as you do so. You give a soft tug, which he returns, but you have a secret weapon: you reach into your bag and pull out a delicious, purple carrot. He grumbles and turns towards you, willing to follow you out of the stall for the illustrious treat. [if horse == 'Cream'] You choose the palomino with the black spot over her eye. You offer her a new apple, which she comes forward for with a little more speed this time. You give her more scritches, then pick up her reigns and open the stall door. She watches you cautiously for a long moment, but when you hold out your hand, she actually comes forward, snuffling it gently. [if horse == 'Star'] You choose the black stallion, who's head is still stuck out over the stall door, regarding you curiously. You scritch him some more and offer another apple, this time a little more carefully to avoid the oats on his lips, and then take his reins. He easily comes out, though you do have to give a gentle tug midway through as he stops to stare at Antigone. [continue] “Is that who you’re picking? Interesting choice; I’m not sure I would’ve made the same one.” She smiles and grabs a stool from nearby. “Here, this will help you get up on the horse.” You take it gratefully, then attach a saddle, a bit, and a few other things onto the horse before carefully climbing on top. {horse} neighs a bit, but settles down. Antigone mounts her horse as well, and the next thing you know, you are out onto the road, away from the [[city of Derinstad.]]

Several hours pass in mostly silence. Once the full heat of the day set in, it sapped your whole group of whatever ability to comprehend words and put them into sentences it had. You take a look at your companions. Even with her parasol out, Antigone is not fairing well; what’s visible of her pale, translucent skin is such a dark shade of red it looks almost purple. Even with the thin clothes covering her skin, it still looks like she’ll be severely sunburnt by the time you make camp. Her eyes are droopy, you notice, and she seems to be breathing awfully harsh. You turn your sights to Fernela, finding her fairing the best out of the three. She seems comfortable in the heat, with her hat keeping the sun out of her eyes. Her face is set determinedly… you wonder what she could be [[thinking of.]]

Taking the lead, you spy a clearing off to your right. “We need a break,” you announce. “This heat is too much; we might kill ourselves and the horses in it.” “I… agree,” Antigone heaves out, looking utterly drained. She follows you towards the small clearing, and as you dismount your horse, you tie it to a tree nearby the river running alongside the clearing, before bolting to it yourself. You dunk your overheated head into it, then gulp down great gob fulls of it. You hear several other splashes, indicating your companions doing the same. As you go for more water, a sudden grip wraps around your arm, hauling you to your feet. You look up to find Ser Avery looking down on you, his face a sweaty yet handsome mess; from darkly tanned skin to icy blue eyes and a widow’s peak, he’s a dreamy kind of man. Except right this moment, when fear sets into you at his sudden appearance. “Well, hello, little mouse. It seems [[I found you]].”

“What do you think you’re doing?!” Antigone demands, running over. “Official Derinstad business, Ms. Beetle. I’d highly advise you stay out of it.” He reaches for the amulet and slips it off… and then chaos breaks loose. A loud roar comes from the amulet and it slings itself so forcefully back around you neck that you are carried off your feet and land several feet back. You see spots in your vision as voices break through the dizziness. “What the fuck was that?” Ser Avery demands. “That damned locket is cursed!” Antigone screeches back, and you can tell she is standing toe to toe with him. “You can’t take it. We are on our way to The Great Pilgrimage to hopefully stop it before the damnable thing kills the entire world.” “What in the hells are you on about? Kills the entire world? Hogwash.” “You can ask Marcos himself; he’s the one who examined it.” “Marcos? Huh.” There’s a break in the arguing, long enough for you to sit up, still rather dazed. “Yeah, he said it himself; if we don’t earn the Gods’ favor, the world is doomed.” “Son of a bitch.” He sneers, staring at you. “You just had to steal the fucking thing, didn’t you?” “I didn’t know it was cursed!” “What were you doing stealing from the Tyian?!” “I was… trying to join the Seven Snakes Guild. It went downhill, [[obviously]].”

He snorts. “Obviously.” He kicks the dirt, his hands on his hips. “Well, I can’t simply let you go without arresting you. So, I suppose, I’m stuck going along with this bullshit.” “You?” You ask incredulously. “You want to come along?” “No, sweetling, I don’t want to, I have to. You have to be tried, but not before the world ends.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “I can’t believe the shit I get into.” “I- Well-” You splutter. “Who said you were invited?” “I’ll drag you back to Derinstad myself and then we’ll catch up to the Pilgrimage if I’m not.” “Shit.” You and Antigone say it at the same time. “I have to put up with you?” Antigone groans. “Fine. But you’ll see that we’re being honest. Marcos said things would worsen on our way there.” “I’ll look forward to it, because if this is a waste of time…” He voice holds venomous warning. A warning you won’t forget soon. “Fine. But we’re taking a rest for now. So, I guess… pop a squat?” He snorts. [[“Why, thank you.”]]

“Look, there, in the distance,” Ser Avery breaks the silence, his hand pointing dead in front of you. You squint, and… see a rather large building, with a stable half-filled with horses. Smoke pours from its roof. “Is that it?” You feel excitement, apprehension, so many things. A bed to sleep in, hot meals cooked by someone other than yourselves… but you’ll be going on The Great Pilgrimage soon, however long and grueling it may be. For sure it’ll be longer than just three days on the road. “Yes, yes that’s it. C’mon, we can rest the horses when we get there.” He spurs his horse on with a cry, and you follow suit, bringing the horses to a run. Their hooves beat on the ground, the clopping cutting through the air. “Let’s get on with it.” The tavern is now clear to see: it’s walls are made of dark wooden planks, its roof tiled with black. The stabled are built similarly, and clearly made for several customers; they seem even larger than the ones in the merchants’ stables back in Derinstad. You all slow your horses as you near the stables. A young man comes from somewhere inside, dressed in a bright-colored shirt open to his navel and dark blue pants. His dark hair is pulled back in a great mass, and he cocks his hip as he waits for you to close the distance. “Will you lot be staying, or are you leaving on The Pilgrimage on the morrow?” “Pilgrims, we be,” Ser Avery responds as the four of you come to a stop in front of him. “Does it matter?” “Yes, it matters. All Pilgrims’ horses are in front so you can get to ‘em easily. It’ll be five silver a horse, it goes up an extra one if you run late on the morrow to get them when the others do.” “Of course.” You dig out your five silver, as do the others, and drop them into Ser Avery’s hand. He then gives them to the man, and you all get off of your horses. You pull your bags from the saddle and hold her reins as the man calls for a few hands to assist. One of them, a young woman who likely hasn’t even seen her twentieth summer yet, collects the reins from your hand with a meek smile. You move away as she leads {horse} away, and after all the horses are out of sight, the four of you exchange looks. “We ready?” You ask quietly, your fingers gripping your bags a little too tightly. “We actually made it here,” Antigone half-laughs, shaking her head. Her skin looks not too good, with the severe sunburns and puffiness. It’ll be good for her to be out of the sun, even if it’s only for half a day. “It’s kind of unbelievable. We’re going on The Great Pilgrimage.” “I didn’t know you were devout, Beetle,” Ser Avery comments as he adjusts his cuirass. “I am, yes, _thank you_,” she snipes back, her chin up. “I know this is trying to help you,” she nods to you, “but… I must say, I’m excited. To see the Seats… it’s not something I thought I’d get to do, not for a long time, at least.” >[["Let's not get our hopes up yet."]] >[["I agree, it's exciting."]] >[[Give a noncommital sound.]]

"Let's not get our hopes up yet; we still have to make it there." "Thanks, {name}," Antigone responds wryly. {embed passage: 'tavern1'}

antigonefri: +1 -- “It’s exciting, I agree.” You smile at her from under your hood, lightly nudging her. “Here’s to hoping it’s everything people say it is.” {embed passage: 'tavern1'}

You give a noncommittal sound; you aren't sure what you think of the Seats, especially if the Gods can let people like you suffer so greatly. {embed passage: 'tavern1'}

“Come, let’s go.” Ser Avery turns away from the three of you, leading the way to the [[front of the tavern->tavern2]].

You take in a deep breath, your heart fluttering nervously, as you follow him, Antigone and Fernela right behind you. He stays close to you, as if he’s worried you’ll flee. Bastard. This is going to be a pain in the ass, you can already tell. [[Chapter 1-.Chapter1thief]]

That’s it. You climb off your bed in your room at the Company headquarters, and head out for the day. Surely, you can find _something_ to do to at least hold you over until that next big job hits. The Company is quite large of a building; it houses about a hundred mercs at any given time, and you need a lot of space for that. It’s ran by one Ivar Marsel, a man with an iron fist both literally and metaphorically, and he has a mean streak when it comes to failure. But you have never failed, so you have yet to be on the receiving end of his ire. You pass by mostly unfamiliar faces through the halls to the front entry, and by the time you reach those gilded doors, the only person you recognize is the doorman. Bert gives you a smile and pulls open the door for you. “Have a good day, messair.” “Thanks, [[Bert]].”

The heat of summer immediately whips you in the face; the humidity, the boiling temperatures. Derinstad proper is a hell during summertime, especially for someone like you who grew up in the northern farming areas. You can feel sweat already starting to bead down your face from the few moments you have been outside. But being outside helps clear your mind, and given your position near the Market and the Docks, you clearly have two places you could go; to visit Antigone in the Market or to see if anything interesting is happening around the Docks. >[[Head to the Market.]] >[[Head to the Docks.]]

You head into the Market, looking for a short pale woman and her trusted help. You spot Antigone's black parasol before too long and immediately head for her. "Antigone!" She spins around, grinning! "{text input for: 'name'}! Good to see you! Shouldn't you be on a job?" "I wish; we're in a dry season right now." "Oh, gosh, that sounds bad. How are you handling it?" >[["As best I can."]] >[["Bored out of my mind."]] >[["I'm doing alright."]]

You decide to head to the Docks. If nothing else, peoplewatching might give you something to fill your time with. You turn south, wading through the crowd coming up from your intended location. The cobblestone roads change to gravel and wood as you grow closer to the Docks, until they change entirely to wood over the rocky coast of Derinstad. Huge and tiny ships alike sit in the bays, from the liners that carriage people to and fro to the fisherman’s vessels towards the right end of the port. Nets, crates of fresh and salted fish, and people mill around the Docks, but one person in particular catches your eye. She’s tall for a woman, maybe five-nine, with a red airy blouse, a black leather corset, black pants, and black chaps, and hair the color of walnut wood. It hangs in a curtain of big curls down her back, complimenting her darkly tanned olive skin well. As she turns to lock eyes with you, you find her eyes the color of onyx and incredibly expressive. Curiously, she waves you over. You come forward, noticing her beauty as you grow closer: a straight nose accents her full plum lips, and her jaw has a soft curve to it. Her eyes are almond-shaped and heavy-lidded, with thick, black lashes. “Ahoy, merc. Like what you see?” She asks, her voice heavily accented, likely from the northwest. “How’d you know I’m a [[merc]]? I could be a sewer rat for all you know.”

“Don’t insult my intelligence, merc; you got the look of Dark Waters all over you; you lot wear the same outfits.” She winks. “You didn’t answer my question.” >[["Maybe I do."]] >[[Blush darkly.]] >[["I was just passing through."]] >[["Quite the flirt, aren't you?"]]

“Maybe I do.” “Aww, forward one are we?” She leans forward, giving you a clear look at her full bosom down her blouse. “Tis unfortunate that I’m limited for time, little merc. You’re quite easy on the eyes yerself; I wouldn’t mind seeing what you can do.” “Are you flirting with me?” “Of course. I’m not shy with my interests, love; I’m a grown woman. I take what I want, when I’m not pressed for time.” She chuckles as she leans back, her black eyes locked on you. “Tell you what, little merc. If we meet again, you have an invitation to share my bed for the night.” “Only for a night? My lady, you’d want more from me than just one night.” She lets out a loud laugh. “Oh ho, confident, are we? I like that. We’ll see, my merc, we’ll see.” She pushes off the wall of the Dock’s tavern, her boots kicking up dirt as she does. “I hope I’ll see you again, but for now, I have business in the city.” “Feeling’s mutual, dear lady.” She runs her fingers over your shoulder as she passes, leaving you with a longing to see what exactly she looks like [[under her clothes.->Next]]

You blush darkly at her flirting, imagining just what she could be meaning. A wide grin spreads across her face as she leans forward, giving you a clear look at her full bosom down her blouse. "A shy one, are we? I think I know exactly what I'd need to have you speaking all those little thoughts in your head." "U-Um, I-" You stutter, feeling like a trapped animal... and not in a bad way. "Oh, it is so unfortunate that I'm running on limited time, my little merc. You're easy on the eyes, soft in the heart... I'd love to see what I can do to you." "Oh. _Oh_." You feel speechless; this has never happened before, certainly not with a woman of her looks. She leans in further, her lips at your ear. "Ta-ta, little merc. But just know, if we meet again, I expect you in my bed." With that, she kisses your cheek, and heads off from the docks, leaving you to stand stock stupid in the middle of the loading area while your brain simply no longer works. A deep longing for her to come back hits you [[hard.->Next]]

"I was just passing through, my lady." "Aww, what a shame," she tuts, "you are quite the attractive bugger. Ah, well, I will accept the loss." "The... loss?" She chuckles, her eyes roaming over you. "I think you know what I mean, merc." With that, she strolls past you, leaving you alone on the [[Docks.->Next]]

"Quite the flirt, aren't you?" "Of course, darling; life is too short to not indulge." She winks. "But I'm guessing you aren't interested in indulging me, hmm?" "Unfortunately not." "Ah, well, we can't always win, can we?" She smiles as she strolls past, leaving you alone on the [[Docks.->Next]]

Shaking yourself, you continue down the Docks. Looking over the port, you find crewmen and laborers alike working aboard the ships. You find captains issuing commands, and what looks like a crew of pirates docked in. Before you can think more on that, you hear someone shout your name. “{text input for: 'name'}!” You turn around and find Lilah, one of the apprentices to the Company, running to you, her fiery hair bouncing with each step. “{name}!” “Slow down, kid. What’s up?” “They found a job for you! They need you back at HQ!” Her voice is full of excitement, her green eyes sparkling in the sunlight. You feel a rush of excitement and relief. “A job? For me? Hells yeah, let’s go, kid.” She turns around and bolts back in the direction she came, leaving you to run to [[catch up.]]

You make it back to the Company in record time, Lilah leading the way. She has the door held open for you by Bert, then she eagerly continues down the hall to Ivar’s office, practically skipping the entire way. When you catch up to her a floor up, in front of his dark oak office door, she knocks. “Aye? Busy.” “Ser Ivar, I have {name} here, as you asked, ser!” “Oh, sorry, m’dear. Send {mchim} in, will you?” Ivar’s tone changes entirely at Lilah’s voice; likely because she is his niece. “Thanks, Lilah,” you whisper to the girl, then let yourself into Ivar’s office. It’s luxurious, to say the least; all earned, by hard effort, but luxurious none the less. Shelves of books sit on both sides, some with gold writing on the bindings. There’s a fancy chandelier above his huge cherry desk, where he sits behind, dressed in a fancy black silk shirt and likely matching pants. He’s an aged man, likely somewhere around sixty winters, with a bald head and a massive scar from crown to jaw on the left side of his head. But, the man can lead; he has yet to disappoint you. “Ser Ivar?” “Hello, {name}. Have a seat, yeah?” You take one of the chairs in front of him, the overstuffed chair comfortable. After you are seated, he turns his full attention to you. “As I’m sure Lilah told you, I have a job for you.” “Yes, ser.” “We have reports of a vambrace of great power, hidden away in a cave just outside of Derinstad. You are to retrieve it and make sure you keep it on your person until you return here. I have the map written out for you, as well as the approximate location inside where the vambrace may be. Do you accept?” “Aye, ser, I accept.” “Good.” He offers you a scroll of three parchments, and after you take it from him, he nods. “Dismissed, {name}. You should head out as soon as possible; it is possible others will learn of this vambrace as well.” “Yes, ser.” [[Late into that night...]]

The cave looms ahead, its opening in the earth dark and enclosed in solid rock. You grab a torch from your borrowed horse and light it from the campfire you started outside, then stomp it out. Torch in hand, you approach the darkness, your map attached to your belt. The cave entrance is a little suffocating; it is narrow, just wide enough for you to partially shuffle through. Worse yet, there’s a sound of dripping water echoing through the cave, overlapping your steps… if someone were to be following you, you would have no idea. It takes several long, arduous minutes, but you make it to an opening in the cave. It looks almost like a lost city; there’s buildings carved into some of the rocks, and a river runs through the cave. You see three ways to go: left, right, and through the center. >[[Go left.]] >[[Go right.]] >[[Go through the center.]]

"As best I can. Going this long without a job is pretty rough." "How long has it been?" "Almost a month now." "Hells. How are you making it?" {embed passage: 'next4'}

"Bored out of my mind, to be honest. I'm used to having at least a job a week; it's been nearly a month." She whistles. "That _is_ quite a while, indeed. Are you doing alright?" {embed passage: 'next4'}

"I'm doing alright. What about you?" "I hate the heat but I'm dealing! But if you haven't had work, how are you making it now?" {embed passage: 'next4'}

"I have savings I put back from each job in case something like this ever happened, thankfully." "Wise decision to do so! I'm glad you did." "Me, too, especially now." She twirls her parasol. "Can I interest you in some fruit? Ma got it fresh early this morning." "You know-" "{name}!" You spin around at your name being called, and find one of the Company's apprentices running towards you. Her name is Lilah, with fiery red hair flopping about as she runs. "Hi, Lilah," you respond as she reaches you, breathing hard. "What's going on?" "Ser Ivar has a job for you! Come quick!" "A job you say? I'm all ears." You turn to Antigone. "See you later?" "You bet! Have fun!" Lilah takes off in the direction of the Company headquarters, leaving you to [[catch up.]]

You go left, passing through a narrow opening to do so. You have to be careful to not burn yourself on the torch, but you manage it, and come out into a clearing. However, the clearing is mostly empty; a cave-in on the opposite side makes you realize there is no [[going forward here.->Late into that night...]]

You head right, listening to your footfalls echo through the cave system. You have to pass through one of the carved homes... and find that there is no way past the hallway between it and another one. You turn [[around.->Late into that night...]]

You choose the center of the cave. Deeper, deeper, _deeper_. You continue down the path, bits of rocks skittering with nearly each step. A little nerve-wracking to say the least; your mind keeps jumping to the possibility of a cave-in. It feels like ages pass as you walk down that path, before yet another opening appears in the cave. More homes carves into the walls, and two paths to take now: left or forward. >[[Go forward.]] >[[Go left.->goleft2]]

You continue forward, carefully; there’s a large crack in the earth to your right that is at least a ten foot drop. The last thing you need is a broken leg or ankle… or worse. You walk for some time, your only companion the sound of your torch crackling. The light from it casts an orange glow across the walls of the cave, highlighting all the interesting cracks and crevices left by time and nature. It is beautiful, to say the least; you can say you are glad you took the job, if nothing more than to see the beauty of the cave. You enter one last opening, and lo and behold, ahead of you is a set of armor, untouched by time. It sits under a hole in the ceiling, letting moonlight highlight its chestplate… and its one single vambrace. You race forward, excitement pumping through your body; it really is here. You can already imagine the payload waiting for you back at the Company for this one; [[oh, yes indeed]].

You turn to go left, and feel the ground give an odd lurch. Looking down, you find the floor _caving_. You quickly turn back as a loud _CRASH_ behind [[you.->Go through the center.]]

You reach the armor in record time, climbing up the short cliff to reach it. You pull yourself up with some difficulty, but here you are: just in front of the armor, the vambrace in hand’s reach. You reach out and grasp it, pulling it off the dummy holding it. It opens, and it looks like it’d be the perfect size for your forearm… so you clasp it on, admiring it. That’s when agony tears through your arm, radiating up to your face. You stumble back and roll down the short cliff, landing hard on the rocky floor of the cave. The wind is knocked out of you, but all you can feel is _pain pain pain-_ You [[blackout]].

You come to some time later, hearing someone hum softly. For a moment, you feel confused; where the hells are you? Then, memories come back, flooding through your mind. You should still be in the cave… _alone_. You sit up, wincing as your side aches fiercely. Looking around, you find the squat figure of someone else, kneeling by a small campfire. “Awake, are you? I’m glad; I was concerned your fall would leave permanent damage,” comes the raspy voice of a man, sounding like he is on in his years. “Who the hells are you?” “I am Marcos, child; you have tread into my home, so mayhaps… watch your tone, no?” He turns to look at you, raising a brow with a kind look on his face. “Your… home?” “Yes… I have lived in the homes carved upon the cave walls since my birth, many many moons ago.” He beckons you forward, to join him by the fire. Slowly, you drag yourself to your feet, still feeling woozy; your head throbs on one side, and you can taste blood, but otherwise, you seem fine. You join him, sitting back down carefully. “What happened?” “You took the curse of that armor upon you, and the pain, no doubt excruciating, took you down for a fall,” he explains, his voice grave. “You should not have come here, I’m afraid.” “Curse? What curse?” “An ancient one, placed upon that very vambrace on your arm now. You will not be able to go without it, I’m afraid; you would die, should you part with it. However, you will slowly wither and wilt, until you are no longer even human, should you keep it.” He sighs. “And the world will die with you.” Panic grips your heart in a vice grip, squeezing your chest. “But- But- I don’t want to die.” “None of us do, dear child. But death may be what awaits you… hmm… unless…” “Unless what?” “You should go on The Great Pilgrimage, child. Go to the Seats of the Gods. Ask them for their favor. Mayhaps, with some luck, you will win them over and they will lift your curse.” “The Great Pilgrimage? But, my work-” “Will be for naught if you die.” He has a point. A very grim, real point. “Who are you, Marcos?” “I am the magic expert for Derinstad, dear one. Trust in me; you will need your faith to see this through. Now, relight your torch and go. If you have any trustworthy allies, they may be worthwhile to bring on this journey with you.” Trustworthy allies… _Antigone_! You stand and grab your torch from where it fell beside you, stick it into the campfire, and relight its rune. “Thank you, Marcos.” “Go, child.” You go. You go faster than you ever have in your life. Your footfalls echo through the caves as you _run_, run as if your life depends upon it. _[[Because it does.]]_

You hop off your borrowed horse just outside of Antigone’s house. The lights are off, but she is a light sleeper; you know this well, from your many late night visits. You bang on her door, out of breath from the harshness of your ride. You hear movement inside, then the door opens. “{name}? What the hells- what’s that on your face?” “Antigone, can I come inside? Please?” “Of- of course. Come in.” She moves out of the way, still dressed in a night gown, letting you in. As you take a seat on her couch, she lights a lamp. “{name}, what is going on?” “You said something is on my face?” “Yes, a mark of some kind… hold on.” She grabs a small hand mirror from the kitchen and hands it to you, so you may examine yourself. There’s now a royal purple mark over your right eye, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It outlines your entire eye in a thick line, with the one on your top lid curving up at the inner corner until it touches your brow, while the lower lid curves at your outer corner and looks something like an upside down question mark on your cheek bone. Your {dropdown menu for: 'eyecolor', choices: ['emerald', 'sapphire', 'topaz', 'onyx']} eyes shine dully, likely due to your exhaustion. Your {dropdown menu for: 'haircolor', choices: ['brown', 'black', 'red', 'blond']} hair is in a mess, even at its {dropdown menu for: 'hairlength', choices: ['very short', 'short', 'shoulder-length', 'waist-length']} length. >[["What the fuck."]] >[["Oh, Gods."]]

"What the fuck." {embed passage: 'cursed'}

"Oh, Gods." {embed passage: 'cursed'}

“What the fuck.” “{name}, _please_-” “I was cursed, okay? By this,” you set the mirror on the coffee table, then hold up the vambrace. “I was runnin’ a job for the Company, got this, put it on, and then next thing I know, a man named Marcos is telling me I’m cursed to die.” She looks horrified. “Marcos told you that? Dear Gods, it must be true then; he’s a magical genius… oh, Gods, {name}. Did he tell you what you can do? _Is_ there anything you can do?” “He told me to go on The Great Pilgrimage and try to earn favor with the gods.” You run a hand over your hair. “Antigone…” “I’m coming too, then.” She sounds so decisive, so sure of herself. She rests a hand over yours, reassuring you. “We’ll go together, and figure this out together. Okay?” “Yeah. Yeah, okay, if you are sure.” “I’m very sure.” [align center] [[The next morning comes quickly.]]

The next morning comes quickly. Antigone wakes you early in the morning, and you quickly pack your essentials: a few maps you keep on your person, some clothes you keep at Antigone’s, and what money you have on your person. You meet her outside, with her horses ready. “We’ll be stopping by the stables on the way out of the city, {name}. Pa pulled some strings and got us four horses to choose from for you.” “Your parents are okay with this?” “I told them you had contracted a fatal illness and a cleric warned us that the Gods may be the only ones able to cure it.” “Sorry for that, {name}. I really hope they can help,” Fernela pipes in. “I do, too, Fernela.” “Oh, {name}!” Antigone grabs something out of her cart, then hands it to you. “You nearly forgot this on my couch last night.” She offers you your weapon, a {dropdown menu for: 'weapon', choices: ['sword', 'spear', 'bow']}. You take it gratefully. [[“Thanks, Tiggi.”]]

The three of you set off through the streets of Derinstad, the early morning light making it seem like the world isn’t ending for you, even though you know deep in your heart, you are living on borrowed time. You wish you could visit Ma and Pa before you go. A small, vindictive part of you claims you should have never left the farm. No one is out and about at this time of the morning, thankfully; you just hope Ser Avery hasn’t warned the guards of someone of your appearance. The stables arrive quickly, and you get your first look at the horses available. A man named Gil stands waiting at the front of the stables, gruffly talking to a foal next to him. When he spies Antigone, he waves in greeting. “Antigone, my girl! How goes it?” “Hello, Gil! Are the horses ready?” “Of course, of course. Go on in and pick the one you want.” You follow Antigone inside, feeling nervous. She has taught you some horseback riding, but not enough that you feel confident with a horse. But, it is time to decide, and you turn your attention to the said four horses, looking over them closely. The first stall holds a strawberry roan mare with a tag on the door reading “Berry”, who watches you meekly over the said door. You take an apple from a basket set on a table off to the side and offer it to her. She lightly lips your hand, then the apple, then your hand again before snuffling the apple from your fingers. She crunches it loudly, devouring it almost as quickly as she took it from you. Then, she returns to your outreached hand, sniffing, before nuzzling the end of her snout into your palm. You laugh as you pat her snout, listening to her make a soft grunting noise. You pull away from her after a few pats to grab another apple and move to the second stall. A blue-grey blanket stallion is in this one, his head held high and slightly to the side as he watches you silently. You approach him, holding the apple where he can see. However, he seems disinterested and instead continues to shift to watch you. You look to his tag and find it says “Anchor”. "Nnnk, nnnk," you call to him, offering the apple. "C'mere, boy." He snorts loudly and turns away fully. You hear him start to eat the hay in the corner, and realize you've been dismissed by a horse. You sigh and move to the third stall, hoping for a better interaction with whichever horse is housed within. You hear a loud, angry neigh and a handler cursing as you move to where you can see inside the stall. A beautiful palomino is inside, currently fighting a handler. She has a single black splotch over her eye, which you see as her head gets turned towards you as the handler seems to give up and leaves, passing by you with an apology. The palomino watches you, breathing loudly. You approach and offer your apple over the gate. Her tag says her name is “Cream”. "C'mere, girl," you say softly, almost cooing, like you would a small upset child. She snorts again, stamping one of her front hooves… but does slowly begin to approach you. She watches you warily as she makes her way forward ever so slowly, until her snout is within reach of your hand and the apple. She sniffs at it, then your hand, and you freeze as she does. Several moments pass… and she grabs the apple and quickly takes it, crunching through it loudly. You keep your hand outstretched as you watch her… and she eventually returns her snout towards your hand, lipping it. She snorts when you pat her snout, her leg twitching as if she's wanting to flee but restraining herself. "Good girl," you murmur, scratching between her eyes. You continue for a small time, scritching her fur, before doing as you've done three times prior, you grab yet another apple and approach the final stall. Within this one is a black stallion with a white star upon his forehead. He's currently eating, and doesn't notice you. His tag states his name is “Star”. You whistle softly, and his head jerks up, oats falling everywhere, while some stay stuck to his face. He looks around until he finds you, though he only regards you in what seems to be mild interest. However, whenever you offer him the apple, his head quickly pops over the stall door and his oat-coated lips grasp it from your fingers, leaving slightly slobbery oats on your fingers. You wipe them on a coat hanging nearby with distaste, then return to him. His head is still over the stall door, but it seems more from lack of wanting to move further than anything else as you return to him, lightly placing your hand on his snout. He grunts but doesn’t do anything as you scritch through his fur. When you step away from him, you see Antigone watching you with a smile, her pink eyes intently focused. You will pick the {dropdown menu for: 'horse', choices: ['Berry', 'Anchor', 'Cream', 'Star']} [[horse.->horse3]]

[if horse == 'Berry'] You choose the strawberry roan, her head still over the stall door, watching you. You walk back to her and pick up her reigns as you open her stall door, leading her out. She follows easily, softly grunting as she goes. [if horse == 'Anchor'] You choose the blue-grey blanket stallion, who stubbornly still is turned from you. Sighing, you open his stall door and pick up his reigns. He watches you, a mouthful of hay, as you do so. You give a soft tug, which he returns, but you have a secret weapon: you reach into your bag and pull out a delicious, purple carrot. He grumbles and turns towards you, willing to follow you out of the stall for the illustrious treat. [if horse == 'Cream'] You choose the palomino with the black spot over her eye. You offer her a new apple, which she comes forward for with a little more speed this time. You give her more scritches, then pick up her reigns and open the stall door. She watches you cautiously for a long moment, but when you hold out your hand, she actually comes forward, snuffling it gently. [if horse == 'Star'] You choose the black stallion, who's head is still stuck out over the stall door, regarding you curiously. You scritch him some more and offer another apple, this time a little more carefully to avoid the oats on his lips, and then take his reins. He easily comes out, though you do have to give a gentle tug midway through as he stops to stare at Antigone. [continue] “Is that who you’re picking? Interesting choice; I’m not sure I would’ve made the same one.” She smiles and helps you get a saddle, bit, and a few other things onto your horse before you sling yourself up upon {horse}. {horse} neighs a bit, but settles down. Antigone mounts her horse as well, and the next thing you know, you are out onto the road, away from the [[city of Derinstad.->city2]]

Taking the lead, you spy a clearing off to your right. “We need a break,” you announce. “This heat is too much; we might kill ourselves and the horses in it.” “I… agree,” Antigone heaves out, looking utterly drained. She follows you towards the small clearing, and as you dismount your horse, you tie it to a tree nearby the river running alongside the clearing, before bolting to it yourself. You dunk your overheated head into it, then gulp down great gob fulls of it. You hear several other splashes, indicating your companions doing the same. You take another gulp of water, before pulling off your boots and laying back in the grass. The coolness of the shade is a welcome change from the road; so welcome that you start to [[drift off to sleep]].

You wake to {horse} nibbling at you and snuffling your leg. Sitting up, you find Antigone and Fernela getting to their feet. “I was about to wake you, but I see {horse} decided to instead.” “Yeah. At least the heat of the day is over; we should be able to get to the inn without much trouble now.” You stand and dust yourself off, haul on your boots, unlace your horse’s reins, and get up in the saddle. You join Fernela and Antigone back on the road, ready for some more pain and torment from the [[brutal sun.]]

On the third day, with only a few hours to spare to reach The Pilgrim’s Cupboard, you and your companions have found another paved road, and by Fernela’s prediction, you should be finding the said tavern in short time. Thank the Gods for it. Your arse has at least four individual blisters on it from the saddle, your thighs are starting to chafe, even with the help of the cream Izzy put in your bag, and even with your bedroll to cushion you against the ground, you’ve hardly slept. You don’t care how lumpy or uncomfortable the mattress will be at the tavern, as long as it’s a _bed_ off of the _ground_. “Look, there, in the distance,” calls Fernela from the back of your companions’ small line. You squint hard, looking ahead… and see a rather large building, with a stable half-filled with horses. Smoke pours from its roof. “Is that it?” You feel excitement, apprehension, so many things. A bed to sleep in, hot meals cooked by someone other than yourselves… but you’ll be going on The Great Pilgrimage soon, however long and grueling it may be. For sure it’ll be longer than just three days on the road. “Yes! Yes, that must be it! Come on!” Antigone takes the lead, bringing her horse to a gallop, and you are quick to follow. The three of you close the distance quite fast, leaving [[plumes of dirt]] in your wake.

The tavern is now clear to see: it’s walls are made of dark wooden planks, its roof tiled with black. The stabled are built similarly, and clearly made for several customers; they seem even larger than the ones in the merchants’ stables back in Derinstad. You all slow your horses as you near the stables. A young man comes from somewhere inside, dressed in a bright-colored shirt open to his navel and dark blue pants. His dark hair is pulled back in a great mass, and he cocks his hip as he waits for you to close the distance. “Will you lot be staying, or are you leaving on The Pilgrimage on the morrow?” “We’ll be leaving with the other Pilgrims, ser,” you respond. “Why?” “‘Cause all Pilgrim horses are in the front so you can get to ‘em easily. It’ll be five silver a horse, it goes up an extra one if you run late on the morrow to get them when the others do.” “Understood.” You dig out fifteen silver and hand it to the man, then Fernela and Antigone dismount their horses. You pull your bag from the saddle, then hand off the reins as the man calls for a few hands to assist. One of them, a young woman who likely hasn’t even seen her twentieth summer yet, collects the reins from your hand with a meek smile. You move away as she leads {horse} away, and after all the horses are out of sight, the four of you exchange looks. “We ready?” You ask quietly, your fingers gripping your bags a little too tightly. “We actually made it here,” Antigone half-laughs, shaking her head. Her skin looks not too good, with the severe sunburns and puffiness. It’ll be good for her to be out of the sun, even if it’s only for half a day. “It’s kind of unbelievable. We’re going on The Great Pilgrimage.” “We are! Are you excited, Antigone?” “Unbelievably. We will see the Seats ourselves… I never thought I’d actually get to do so.” “Well, no time like the present, right?” “Exactly!” Turning to the tavern, you take a deep, steadying breath as your heart flutters nervously. No time for nerves now, however; you lead the way to the tavern, Antigone and Fernela right behind you. Antigone stays close, and Fernela brings up the rear as the three of you make your way to the front doors. [[Chapter 1]]

You head inside the tavern. You and your companions are greeted with a cheer from the few gathered members of the Pilgrims; an adarlwyn, a half-mer, and a handful of humans. “Welcome to the Pilgrim’s Cupboard!” Roars the man behind the front desk, a rather rotund fellow with a great big grin. “C’m’over! I’ll get ye set up!” Ser Avery closes the distance with the man, and you follow suit. “How many rooms, ser?” The man asks Ser Avery as he pushes up a gold monocle. “Er. How many rooms?” He turns to face you, Antigone, and Fernela. “Are any of you lot sharing?” “Fernela and I will,” Antigone informs him. “So, three rooms, ser,” Ser Avery informs the man. “How much will it be?” “A gold coin per room, ser, yes indeed.” Ser Avery hisses a breath in through his teeth. “Quite a steep price. Tis better be a nice room.” He pulls out a gold coin, then you and Antigone do the same, and hand them off to him. “Nicest you’ll find outside of Derinstad!” The man promises, then holds his hand out for the money. Ser Avery sets it in his chubby palm, then calls for a maid to show the lot of you to [[your rooms]].

You follow her up the stairs, Ser Avery in front and Antigone and Fernela bringing up the rear. The maid shows you to the last three rooms on the right of the hallway: yours first, then Ser Avery’s (at his insistence), then lastly Antigone and Fernela. You take your key from her and enter your room. You set your bag down on the bed, then sit on the bed itself. It’s quite soft and comfortable; almost as comfortable as your bed in Antigone’s home. But you don’t linger on this said bed; you haven’t showered since leaving Derinstad, and no doubt, you stink to the high heaven. Walking to the built in bath, you tap the runes to get water running at the right temperature. While the tub fills, you strip off your disgusting, sweat-logged clothes, and hurriedly step into the bath. The warm water feels heavenly on your sore body, cleansing pains you didn’t know existed from you. You lean back and let the water continue to wash over you, feeling ever so pleasant. You reach for the soap and lather your hair, rinsing the dirt out to return it to its natural {haircolor} color. The bath water runs dirty before you have even cleaned half your body, nastily enough. [align center] [[Next->Next4]]

After drying off, you reach into your bag and pull out a shirt and breeches to change into, plus fresh socks, and put your boots back on. Then, you head back outside your room. Ser Avery exits just as you do, looking freshly cleaned and shaved himself. Bastard’s quite handsome without all the grime, too. He raises a brow at you. “Going somewhere?” “Well, I was going to grab Antigone and Fernela and go get dinner downstairs.” “Perish the thought that you’d forget about me.” >[[“How could I forget the blister on my arse?”]] >[[“Do you actually want to come with us?”]] >[[“You’re a confusing man, Ser Avery.”]]

“How could I forget the blister on my arse?” You scoff, crossing your arms. He lets out a laugh, his lips pulling into a smirk. “Oh, sweet, if I was on your ass, you’d know.” “I’d rather you weren’t.” “As would I.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, will you go get your little companions so we can go? I’m half-starved.” {embed passage: 'thiefseravmeet'}

"Do you actually want to come with us?" You inquire. "Obviously. We're traveling together; we need to seem like we're a unit." He taps his head. "Appearances, mouse. Gotta keep them up." "I guess I understand?" "Good. Anyway, do you want to get food? I'm starving." {embed passage: 'thiefseravmeet'}

"You're a confusing man, Ser Avery." "Not confusing; you just can't keep up, mouse." You scoff. "Oh, alright. Pardon me, then." "You're pardoned. Now, can we go eat? I could eat a whole horse, myself." {embed passage: 'thiefseravmeet'}

At that, your stomach gives a near painful rumble; looks like he isn’t the only one half-starved around here. Striding past him, you knock on Antigone’s room door. “Tiggi? Do you want to come down for dinner?” “Yes! I’ll be right out. Go on down without me and get us a table.” “Alright.” With that in mind, you turn to Ser Avery. “Shall we?” “We shall, I believe.” He leads the way down the stairs, you following closely behind. The round man from before pips up when he spots the two of you. “Oh, sers! How are your rooms?” “Satisfactory,” Ser Avery responds, shrugging. “Worth the gold, I’d say.” “Agreed,” you answer, nodding. “Probably one of the finest I’ve stayed in.” “Oh ho ho, I’m overjoyed to hear that! I tell you what, go on into the dining hall, meet the other Pilgrims. Dinner will be on me tonight.” “A generous offer; I’ll take you up on it.” Ser Avery turns to you. “Come on.” [align center] [[Next->Next5]]

You enter the dining room, finding it only hosting five people. “I thought The Great Pilgrimage would host more people than this.” “It normally would, but the path the Pilgrims follow has gotten quite dangerous,” an adarlwyn replies. She comes forward, her bird-like feet clicking on the wooden floors. “I should introduce myself: I am Li’Veris; I am the justiciar chosen to help keep the Pilgrims safe this time.” >[[“I don’t know what a justiciar is.”]]

“I don’t know what a justiciar is.” “A justiciar is an adarlwyn who has been chosen by the justice goddess Themis to protect and serve the people who need it most; such as Pilgrims.” She smiles softly, making the mix of medium and light gray feathers on her head and cheekbones shift some. “I was the one chosen this year.” “That makes sense. So, is it just us? Nine people, altogether?” “It would seem so, yes.” She nods to the other Pilgrims. “Let me introduce you. This is Zolassi.” She nods to a being that you can’t quite tell what he is. He has skin that is a light shade of teal, gills, and hair that looks like yellow and green kelp. “Pleasure,” he murmurs in a thick accent you can’t quite place, either. Maybe the northwest somewhere? >[[“Er. What are you, exactly?”]]

“Er. What are you, exactly?” Ser Avery groans and slaps his forehead. “You can’t just _ask_ what race someone is. Gods above.” Zolassi raises a loosely webbed hand. “It’s quite alright; I get that often. I’m a half-merfolk. That’s where the color and kelp hair comes from.” “I’ve never heard of merfolk, to be honest with you, ser, but thank you for explaining.” He smiles, making his mixed purple and blue eyes shimmer. “Of course. Merfolk are just people of the underwater; equipped with tails, fins, and gills to live there. Don’t worry yourself over it too much.” “Thank you.” Li’Veris nods her head to him. “Thank you for your kindness and patience, Zolassi.” Next, she indicates a beauty of a woman, with a plump chest, lips, and buttocks. Her dark tan olive skin shimmers in the candlelight, and when her onyx eyes land on you… well. You feel some type of way to be under such an intense gaze. “This is Valera Dogwood. She’s a ship captain who I’ve been told to expect on future Pilgrimages.” “Quite right, love,” she winks. “You’ll be seeing this gorgeous face every year you host the Pilgrimage. I’ve yet to miss one since I got my own ship and crew.” “Nice to meet you, Valera.” She looks you over, then grins. “Nice meeting you too, lovely. Perhaps we can have a discussion later? When lovely Li’Veris is done with her mournful introductions.” >[[“I um, would like that.”]] >[[“You can count on it, beautiful.”]] >[[“I don’t think so, unfortunately.”]]

“I, um, would like that.” You feel flustered, your face starting to heat up. “Oh, for piss sake,” Ser Avery groans, “not when I’m in the room next door, godsdamn it. Unless I’m allowed to join.” Valera makes a disgusted noise. “I don’t sleep with pigs.” Ser Avery opens his mouth to say something, likely something quite rude, when Li’Veris interrupts. “Alright, alright, settle down; both of you. There will be no violence in this tavern tonight.” “Hmph. We’ll see,” Ser Avery mutters, taking a seat at a table as far away from Valera as possible. Valera offers you another once over with a grin, before returning to her drink. [[Next->Next6]]

"You can count on it, beautiful." She grins. "Oh? Can I?" “Oh, for piss sake,” Ser Avery groans, “not when I’m in the room next door, godsdamn it. Unless I’m allowed to join.” Valera makes a disgusted noise. “I don’t sleep with pigs.” Ser Avery opens his mouth to say something, likely something quite rude, when Li’Veris interrupts. “Alright, alright, settle down; both of you. There will be no violence in this tavern tonight.” “Hmph. We’ll see,” Ser Avery mutters, taking a seat at a table as far away from Valera as possible. Valera offers you another once over with a grin, before returning to her drink. [[Next->Next6]]

"I don't think so, unfortunately." "Aww, alright, lovely. That's fine." She winks. "You just let me know if you change your mind." "Will do." She returns to her drink. [[Next->Next6]]

“This is Jericho Crow,” Li’Veris indicates one of the clearly hired muscle, who gives you a once over with a solemn expression on his face. There’s an interesting light in his hazel-green eyes, however. ‘He’s a man of few words, but a trustworthy one at your back. He’s a hired mercenary to help me keep the Pilgrims safe.” “Pleasure.” He nods. “Likewise.” [align center] [[Next->Next7]]

After introducing the other Pilgrims, Li’Veris leaves you to join Ser Avery, just in time for Antigone and Fernela to come join the both of you finally. After the two of them sit, a waiter comes with a platter of various foods, all smelling delicious as can be. She sits it down on the table, leaves a bottle of wine and four glasses, and leaves to do the same with the other Pilgrims. “What did I miss?” Antigone asks as she loads up her plate, mostly with chicken and mashed potatoes. “The adarlwyn, Li’Veris, introduced us to the other Pilgrims.” You take some food yourself, and take a bite. “Seems an interesting lot.” “Interesting’s a good word for it,” Ser Avery adds, biting into a chicken leg. “Would you have another in mind?” Antigone asks, raising a pale brow. “You sound like you do.” “Miscreants is a better term, I think.” “You dastardly asshole,” Antigone hisses. “They’re just people!” “People who should never be in my city, let alone near it.” He takes another bite. “You trust to easily, Beetle.” “Or you’re just a jaded dick.” “That, too.” He continues eating, completely unbothered. “Why, the gall…” Antigone shakes her head, staring at him with a seething look. He doesn’t even seem to notice. [align center] [[Dinner is a mess.]]

Dinner is a mess of awkward quietness and Antigone shooting daggers with her eyes at Ser Avery while he seems to not give one damn. When he’s done, Ser Avery leaves without another word to anyone. But you can see him linger at the top of the stairs, nearly out of sight, keeping an eye on you. Bastard. Antigone and Fernela go before long, leaving you alone… >[[Approach Valera.]] >[[Go to your room.]]

You decide to approach Valera again, curious about what she said earlier. You wonder if she actually meant it. She is sipping on a drink, talking lowly to the barkeep. When you approach, her attention turns to you, with a grin. “Hello, lovely. Come to keep me company?” “Something like that.” You nod to the seat beside her. “Is this taken?” “Only by you.” “Alright.” You sit down beside her, and she scoots closer. “So, what’s a lovely lady like you doing here all by herself?” She looks at you from under her lashes. “Why, lovely, a lovely lady like me is here to pay my respects to the Gods. I need no one else to do that with me.” “Fair enough.” “Mmm.” She leans closer, her lips by your ear. “Would you like to share quarters tonight, pretty thing? I promise you a wonderful time.” You shudder as her whispered breath tickles your neck. >[[Accept Valera’s offer.]] >[[Decline Valera’s offer.]]

valerasex: true -- “I’d love to, Valera.” She purrs. “I love how my name sounds from your mouth, honey lips. I wonder if I can get you to say it more.” She stands, offering her hand. “Come with me, lovely.” You stand and take her hand, and she leads the way upstairs to your room. The moment you are inside, safe from the outside world… >[[You push her up against the door.]] >[[She pushes you up against the door.]]

You pull away from her. "Sorry... I can't do this right now." Valera pulls back herself, nodding. "That's okay, lovely. At least you know yer limits. Let me know if you change your mind." "Thank you. I will." And with that, you leave to your room. You climb the stairs, enter, and fall into the bed easily. Within a few minutes, you fall into one of the best sleeps you have had in a long while. [align center] [[The next morning.]]

You push her up against the door, her full breasts pressed against you. You hungrily claim her lips, yours dancing with hers. Her hands run down your sides, then back up under your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach and hips. Your lips move, kissing a path down her jaw to suckle at her neck as she undoes your breeches. You moan as she finds you… >[[...already hard.]] >[[...already wet.]]

She pushes you against the door, her full bosom pressed against your chest as she claims your lips. She hungrily devours you, her lips working against yours delectably. Her hands run down your sides, then back up under your shirt, stroking the soft skin of your stomach and hips. Her lips move, kissing a path down your jaw to suckle at your neck as she undoes your breeches. You moan as she finds you… >[[...already hard.]] >[[...already wet.]]

You moan as she finds you already hard, her hand wrapping around your shaft firmly as she begins to slowly pump you. Her teeth nip your neck, then your shoulder. It feels heavenly; you can not actually believe this is happening right now. She pulls away, much to your distaste, but only to strip off her corset, her blouse, and do away with her pants. Her beautiful body stands naked in front of you, in your rented room, and she pants with her desire. >[[“I want on top, lovely.”]] >[[“I want you on top of me, lovely.”]]

You moan as she finds you already wet. She opens your folds with her fingers, gently stroking your clit with a teasing finger. It feels heavenly; you can not actually believe this is happening right now. She pulls away, much to your distaste, but only to strip off her corset, her blouse, and do away with her pants. Her beautiful body stands naked in front of you, in your rented room, and she pants with her desire. >[["Get on your back, lovely."]]

“I want on top, lovely, so get on your back.” “Yes, ma’am.” “Oh, polite, are we? I like that.” You go to the bed and climb onto it, overtly aware of her stalking behind you. You hear her grab something, before she joins you on the bed. There is a small bottle in her hand, and when she pours it into her hand, she returns to your erection, pumping you again. _Oil_. When you are fully lubed to her taste, she does away with the bottle and positions herself over you, her knees alongside your hips. She holds your erection in her hand, and with a grin, she lowers herself onto you. You both moan in unison, her soft, wet walls wrapping ever so enticingly around you. She lets out a shuddering breath. “Oh, lovely, you feel wonderful.” She leans forward slightly, splaying her hands out on your stomach. “Are you ready?” “Yes. Gods, yes.” “Good.” She sets the pace; fast and hard from the very beginning. Her hips meet yours in a slap each time, her sizeable ass pressed against your thighs. To reward her, you slip a hand between the two of you, finding her clit between her folds and slowly circling it. It’s hard, it’s hard to focus with her bouncing on your cock, but you manage it. She moans when your hand finds her, her legs slipping a little as you start your circles. A feeling of pride comes over you, mixing with the pleasure, bringing it to a new height. You are pleasing her _too_. You can feel her wetness against your fingers, soaking your cock. What a fucking sexy idea. She digs her nails softly into the flesh of your stomach as her moans grow closer together, her hips slamming down to meet yours. You can feel your orgasm building inside of you; you won’t last much longer. But based on her closed eyes and open mouth, her heaving breasts, neither will she. Your will breaks when you feel her inner walls start to pulsate around you, and you finish inside of her, your seed going deep inside of her. She gasps and cries out, her cries going louder as you continue to circle her clit, until her pushes your hand away. She folds, her forehead pressed against your upper chest as she pants. “That felt amazing, lovely. Good Gods.” She kisses your collarbone. “Agreed. You are wonderful.” She chuckles. “Keep that talk up, lovely, and we might do this again sometimes.” >[[“I certainly hope so.”]] >[[“This was just a one time thing.”]]

"I want you on top of me, lovely." She makes her way to your bed, climbing on with her full ass turned towards you. "Don't be afraid to get a little rough; I can handle it." "Yes, ma'am." "So polite. Tell me, lover, will you be polite inside of me, too?" "I guess we'll see." You get on the bed behind her, pressing her back down some so her hips tilt towards you perfectly. The shape of her ass against your hips does nothing but fuel your desire. You stroke yourself, then use your fingers to find her opening. You align yourself, and slowly thrust inside of her. You both moan in unison as you fill her, stretching her soft, wet walls. They squeeze around you, sending sparks up your spine. Gods, she's wonderous. You grip her hips as you start to set a pace, the bed creaking as you do. She moans as the fingers of one hand grip into the sheets, and the other disappears between the apex of her legs to touch herself. You start to move faster, crushing yourself to her hips. The sound of your body coming in contact with hers drives you insane, wanting to never have it stop. It's so fucking sexy. _She's_ so fucking sexy. Your thrusts start to grow erratic as your orgasm comes closer, closer, _closer_. She makes no indication she wants to you leave her; in fact, she's moving her hips to meet the thrusting of your own. You feel the release come, your seed going inside of her. She gasps as you still, then her legs begin to shake on either side of you as she finds her release as well. You slip out of her, laying down next to her as she rocks back on her heels. “That felt amazing, lovely. Good Gods.” She kisses your collarbone. “Agreed. You are wonderful.” She chuckles. “Keep that talk up, lovely, and we might do this again sometimes.” >[[“I certainly hope so.”]] >[[“This was just a one time thing.”]]

“I certainly hope so.” “We’ll see.” With a sigh, she sits up and climbs off of you, leaving the air to cool her wetness between your legs. It makes your body tingle uncomfortably; you quickly cover up with the blanket. You watch as she dresses, then comes over to give you a kiss. “See you in the morning, lovely.” >[[“You don’t want to stay?”]] >[[“See you in the morning, Valera.”]]

valeranorom: true -- "This was just a one time thing," you say firmly. She nods, shrugging. "Fine then, lovely! I won't approach you again." "Thank you." She gets dressed and sees herself out of your room. You roll onto your back, considering what the hells just happened. A gorgeous woman like that just spun your world around in a way that you’ve never had before. Within a few minutes, you fall into one of the best sleeps you have had in a long while. [align center] [[The next morning.]]

“You don’t want to stay?” “Not this time, lovely. But if it happens again… maybe so.” She winks, then lets herself out of your room. You roll onto your back, considering what the hells just happened. A gorgeous woman like that just spun your world around in a way that you’ve never had before. Within a few minutes, you fall into one of the best sleeps you have had in a long while. [align center] [[The next morning.]]

"See you in the morning, Valera." "See you then." She winks, then lets herself out of your room. You roll onto your back, considering what the hells just happened. A gorgeous woman like that just spun your world around in a way that you’ve never had before. Within a few minutes, you fall into one of the best sleeps you have had in a long while. [align center] [[The next morning.]]

The next morning passes in a flurry of motion. You wake, pack, and are downstairs for breakfast with your companions before the sun is up… as are the other Pilgrims. Breakfast is a quick affair, and then? Then, it is time to hit the road before the heat begins. You claim {horse} as Ser Avery, Antigone, and Fernela claim theirs, and with some difficulty, manage to get mounted without help. Score one for you today. Once Li’Veris is mounted upon her horse, she circles around the Pilgrims and then, ensuring everyone is in the posse, she moves forward, leading the charge. You, Ser Avery, Antigone, and Fernela are just behind Eric and Jericho, and the rest of the group behind you. It’ll be a long day… [align center] [[Some hours later…]]

The group takes a break stop when the mid-day heat settles in, to prevent heat sickness… or worse. Li’Veris leads the Pilgrims to a shaded spot by a river, and has everyone tie their horses next to the running body of water. After you dismount {horse}, you pat her side, then join your three companions in a corner of the shaded grove. You decide to take a seat, letting your legs relax in the grass. “How are we all doing?” Ser Avery takes a bite into a peach. “I’m fine; I’ve done this before. Long travels, anyway.” Antigone looks worse for wear. Her skin has become permanently blistered from the sun, even with her parasol. “I could be better, but! I’m okay.” “You look like a giant blister,” Ser Avery scoffs. “At least I don’t sound like a camel’s backside.” “Sometimes you sound like a stepped on mouse.” “Okay, okay,” you hold up your hands. “Let’s all play nice even if we don’t like each other. We don’t want the other Pilgrims to know there’s something up.” “Fair enough; I imagine they’d be less trusting of a thief.” Ser Avery finishes his peach, tossing the pit elsewhere. “You are so _rude_,” Antigone hisses. “You act as if there wasn’t a reason.” “There wasn’t, silly girl.” “Survival. Survival is always the reason.” “You’re naive. You haven’t seen the world yet, nor do you know how it works.” Ser Avery stretches, then sits back in the grass. “And I tire of this conversation.” She huffs, and shakes her head. “Ignorant man.” She turns her attention to you. “Are you doing alright, {name}?” >[[“I’m okay, so far.”]] >[[“I have blisters on my arse, but not too bad.”]] >[[“Could be better.”]]

"I'm okay so far." "That's good at least!" “Yeah. I wonder how far to the next city?” “Some days out, probably… I can’t imagine it’s too close.” You sigh, laying back in the grass. “You’re probably right.” [align center] [[A week later…]]

"I have blisters on my arse, but not too bad." "Thank you for sharing with the class," Antigone scoffs. "You are so welcome." "Anyway... I wonder how far to the next city?” “Some days out, probably… I can’t imagine it’s too close.” Antigone sighs. “You’re probably right.” [align center] [[A week later…]]

“Could be better, but I’m here.” “Fair enough.” “Yeah. I wonder how far to the next city?” “Some days out, probably… I can’t imagine it’s too close.” You sigh, laying back in the grass. “You’re probably right.” [align center] [[A week later…]]

Antigone turned out to be more right than you ever expected; a full week passes before the Pilgrims reach the next city: Crow’s Nest. The Pilgrims reach Crow’s Nest not long after sunrise, and make their way to the Pilgrim’s Cupboard located in the city. Your group gets their rooms (another gold coin a piece), and you head down the hall to get into your newly rented room. Your first task? A godsdamned bath. You sling your bag off and onto the bed, then pull the dirty clothes from it. You’ll need to find a maid before you leave and pay her to clean them, that’s for sure. You have one clean shirt and breeches left, so you lay those out, along with underthings, and then strip. To the bath your smelly self goes. After your bath, you dress and head back downstairs, your {weapon} by your side. This is a strange city; you don’t want to be caught unawares, after all. You spy a maid and immediately go over to her. “Yes, ser?” She asks, looking up from her sweeping. “Are you able to do laundry? I have traveled far, and I am out of clean clothes.” “Yes, ser, of course. It’ll cost three silver sickles.” “Excellent.” You give her the silver, then head out on your way. It _is_ a new city. What do you want to do? >[[Explore the market area.]] >[[Explore the docks.]] >[[Explore the shopping district.]] >[[You should practice with your weapon.]]

You decide to explore the market area. Even from this distance, you can see several stalls of fresh fruit, vegetables, and salted meats. It reminds you of Derinstad's market, except Antigone's stall is nowhere to be seen. As you enter the market, there's a musician playing a saxophone, filling the air with pleasant music. As you start around the plaza, you spy two familiar people: Li'Veris and Antigone. >[[Go see Li'Veris.]] >[[Go see Antigone.]] >[[A week later…<-Go back]]

You decide to explore a familiar area: the docks. You often would beg or explore the docks for scraps of fish being dropped or unattended, so it brings back memories for you, even if it is a foreign one. As you start down the stairs carved directly into the rocky outercropping, you spy two familiar people: Valera and Zolassi. >[[Go see Valera]] >[[Go see Zolassi]] >[[A week later…<-Go back]]

You decide to explore the shopping district. There’s rows upon rows of little shops, much like Derinstad; but these shops vary from very cultist-looking things to pottery and books. The roads are made of dark cobblestone, with mortar between them; an interesting idea. Derinstad doesn’t do that, that’s for sure. As you pass two shops, you spy two familiar beings: Ser Avery and Jericho Crow. Maybe the city is named after him. >[[Go see Ser Avery.]] >[[Go see Jericho Crow.]] >[[A week later…<-Go back]]

seraveryshop: true -- You decide to see the bastard devil himself, Ser Avery. He’s currently in a shop selling stationary, a couple rolls of parchment in his hand. “A city of heathens,” he mutters as you come closer, still unaware of your presence. “Are you sure you aren’t the heathen, here?” He swivels around, on high alert- until he spots you. “Hmph. The main heathen themself speaks.” “Heathen to _you_ and you alone.” “Maybe so. What do you want, mouse? I’m busy.” >[[“I am curious of you.”]]

You decide to go for the anomaly of the group: Jericho. A merc who hangs around his Pilgrim most often, you've not really gotten to know him well. You enter the shop he is within, seeing that he is looking at books. You approach him. "Hi, Jericho." He looks up, his hazel-green eyes suspicious but relaxing when he recognizes you. "Oh, hello, {name}, right?" "Yeah, that's me." "Can I help you with something?" "I just saw you and wanted to see how you were fairing with the Pilgrimage so far." He smiles wryly. "Well, my boss complains the entire ride, the blisters on my nethers have blisters of their own, and my chaps are starting to break apart from how long we have to ride." You nod. "Sounds about right." He laughs. "Got a sense of humor, do you? I like that." >[["Why, thank you."]]

“I am curious of you.” “Why?” “Why would a man of your standing come across the continent just to see if what I say is true?” He snorts. “So I can throw you in a dungeon when it’s all over.” “That’s your only reason? Pity.” You go to turn away, but he catches your chin. “Little mouse, if you think it’s because I find you attractive, well,” he shrugs, “I may think that so but I don’t chase ass. It comes to me.” “You bastard.” You wedge out of his grip as he grins, his ice blue eyes dancing with humor. “You look to vex me, do you?” “It’s quite enticing to do so, yes. Only fair, given you stole from my Tyian.” “Hmph.” But something lingers in your mind. “You find me attractive?” “I’m a knight, not dead. Obviously I do.” He gives you a long once over. “Had we met under other circumstances, I would’ve invited you to my bed.” >[[“What’s stopping you from doing so now?”]] >[[You feel flustered at his words.]]

“What’s stopping you from doing so now?” “Little mouse, I don’t sleep with prisoners. Even if they’re future prisoners.” He winks. “Unfortunate for you.” “A bit, indeed.” You shake your head. “You’re quite a tease.” “I’m just honest.” He grabs an inkwell from a nearby shelf. “Now, run along, little mouse. I business to take care of.” Deciding to leave him, you exit back onto the streets. You hadn’t realized how long you spoke to him; the sky has moved to midday. >[[You should practice writing.]] >[[You should practice with your weapon.]]

You feel flustered at his words, your cheeks heating up. He notices, his ice blue eyes darkening. "Gods, but you are so tempting... if only you weren't a prisoner and we'd met elsewhere." "Wh-What would you do if we had? Met elsewhere, I mean?" "Take you to my bed, little mouse." "O-Oh. I see." "You seemed like you liked the idea." "I... do." "Unfortunate for us both." He grabs an inkwell off a nearby shelf. "Leave, little mouse. I can't say what I'll do if you continue to vex my scruples and other parts of me." Deciding to leave him, you exit back onto the streets. You hadn’t realized how long you spoke to him; the sky has moved to midday. >[[You should practice writing.]] >[[You should practice with your weapon.]]

You should practice writing. Turning back to the tavern, you make your way there, planning what words to practice and to practice your letters. [align center] [[Back at the inn...]]

You should practice with your {weapon}. You take another look around the town, and spy a training yard not too far from you. Heading towards it, you let your feet carry you there. Once you've reached it, you take up a space with a training dummy, preparing to treat it as a proper enemy. [if weapon == 'spear'] You make a sweeping stab, catching it just under where a person's jaw would be. [if weapon == 'bow'] You fire an arrow into its noggin, easily hitting your mark. [if weapon == 'sword'] You slice at it with your sword, cleanly severing one of its arms. [continue] Now to just do that a few dozen more times... [align center] [[You practice until night falls.]]

You reach the inn before long, and go back to your room. Entering your room, you find your clothes gone; likely gone to be washed. You open your bag and pull out parchment, an inkwell, and a pen, then go to the small desk in the room. You put your items down, then take a seat, and pull one of the sheets of parchment aside. You open the inkwell, then dip the pen, and finally, you start practicing your letters. “A… B… C… D…” You carefully write them, trying to make them as legible as possible for Antigone later; you will have her look over anything you do to ensure you are doing it correctly. When you finish your letters, you start with your numbers: both their numeric form and their spelled form. *** A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z 1 ONE 2 TWO 3 THREE 4 FOUR 5 FIVE 6 SIX 7 SEVEN 8 ATE 9 NINE 10 TEN *** You look over your work; it mostly looks correct. With that, you move the parchment over to dry, and take another sheet. [align center] [[Late into the night...]]

You practice common words Antigone has given you for some hours, turning them into short sentences together. It’s well into the night before you realize it; your only break was to go get lunch some hours ago, but you don’t even feel hungry. You get up and stretch, moving your body around after being sat for so long. A wave of exhaustion goes over you; you should sleep soon, if not now. Who knows how long the next stop in a proper bed will be? You climb into bed, your brain thinking over the day. [if seraveryshop == true] Especially your conversation with Ser Avery. He admitted he finds you attractive… but won’t sleep with you given he plans to arrest you, no matter how this turns out. Bastard. A handsome one, at that. That makes him a rat bastard. You roll over at that thought, and before long, you are fast asleep. [align center] [[The next day.]]

The road is a long one. The heat isn’t so intense today, so Li’Veris has decided to continue the journey onward. There’s little conversation, mostly sparse commentary about the surrounding forests and hillside. That is, until someone spots people coming towards the group. Jericho shouts, “Hey, do you see that?” Off in the distance is a similarly sized group… but something is off. They are taking up the entire road, like a blockage. “I don’t like this,” Ser Avery grunts, shaking his head. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say those are highwaymen.” Li’Veris looks back at him, considering. “I’m afraid you might be right. This is a road they are commonly seen upon.” “Fuck.” Li’Veris pulls her sword from its sheath and lays it across her lap, and you follow suit with you {weapon}. Word spreads through the group, and others claim their weapons as well. You have a very, _very_ bad feeling about this. [align center] [[Finish.]]

Thank you for playing **_A Cursed Fate: The Pilgrimage_**! I hope you enjoyed; this is a remake of my first ever game idea I had! >{link to: 'https://bottlecaprabbitgames.tumblr.com/', label: 'Tumblr'} >{link to: 'https://bottlecaprabbitgames.itch.io/', label: 'itch.io'} >{link to: 'https://www.patreon.com/c/bottlecaprabbitgames', label: 'Patreon'} >{link to: 'https://ko-fi.com/bottlecaprabbitgames', label: 'Ko-fi'} >{link to: 'https://bottlecaprabbitgames.atabook.org/', label: 'Atabook! Leave me a comment!'} >{link to: 'https://textadventures.co.uk/user/view/3nnflhdhd0ge-vv6jxpiew/bottlecaprabbitgames', label: 'TextAdventures Profile'}

"Get on your back, lovely," she directs, following you to your bed. You crawl up the mattress before flipping over and spreading your thighs. She grabs something from her pants before coming over, and you see it to be a vial of some kind. "Just oil, love; it makes things feel better." "Alright." She crawls in between your legs, shifting them to either side of her, before she uncorks the glass and pours the fluid inside onto her hand. Then, she parts your folds and runs those coated fingers sensually in between, touching every part of you there. You shudder, spreading your legs and hips wider for her. "Good," she murmurs, before her fingers begin to circle your clit slowly, achingly slowly. Bursts of pleasure shoot through you, curling in your lower stomach. When she speeds up, her fingers lightly curling around the sensitive nub, you can't stop your moans from echoing through the room. She's skilled and showing you just how much so, as she plays with you in a way you've never felt before. Your hips buck as she speeds up further, her fingers working you so _well_, so fucking _good_. One of your hands tangle in your own hair, while the other tangles into the sheets. As your orgasm grows closer, so do your hips to her, begging for release. It comes only a few moments later, like a pillar shattering inside of you. Your moans become cries as your body shakes, your hips undulating towards her hand until the sensations grow too intense, and you have to push her hand away. "That was amazing," you pant, your legs now uselessly laying beside you. "Why, thank you, lover." She chuckles. "Maybe if you play nicely, we can do this again sometime." >[[“I certainly hope so.”]] >[[“This was just a one time thing.”]]

>[[“I certainly hope so.”]] >[[“This was just a one time thing.”]]

You leave to your room. You climb the stairs, enter, and fall into the bed easily. Within a few minutes, you fall into one of the best sleeps you have had in a long while. [align center] [[The next morning.]]

With only a brief break to get lunch at the Pilgrim's Cupboard, you proceed to train until night falls. Then, and only then, do you make your way back to the inn. You climb the stairs to your room, strip down from your filthy clothes (and happy to see a basket of clean ones waiting for you), then bathe before climbing into bed. [if seraveryshop == true] Especially your conversation with Ser Avery. He admitted he finds you attractive… but won’t sleep with you given he plans to arrest you, no matter how this turns out. Bastard. A handsome one, at that. That makes him a rat bastard. You roll over at that thought, and before long, you are fast asleep. [align center] [[The next day.]]

"Why, thank you, I try." He smiles. "Doesn't seem you have to." "I suppose not; it comes natural to me." "I saw you with your {weapon} a few evenings' ago. You seem to be a natural with it." "Oh! Thanks. I picked it up a few years ago and have spent a lot of time with it." "That's how it always starts, right?" He pulls out a book, glancing over its cover. "Have you considered mercenary work? You look like you'd be a good fit." "Nah, not about the life of having someone tell me to do shit. Never liked it, even when I took small jobs around Derinstad." "Fair enough." He goes quiet, looking at another book. "If you don't mind, I'll get back to my browsing. Nice talking with you." "Yeah! Same to you." With that, you leave and consider your options. >[[You should practice writing.]] >[[You should practice with your weapon.]]