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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: West SIIIIIIIIIIIDE!!!!
I don't know why... 
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 20:29:15.
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Topic: Tales of City Fantastico
Subject: ...Cuz the weasel goes POP!!!
It hadn’t been terribly hard to find the last one… just a matter of patience in finding the correct route through the correct neighborhood and paying heed to the chatter of the grown-ups as they lined up their round-faced little tots at the window of his truck. Yes, the sinners were always easy to find when their sins followed them through the minds and mouths of those whom the sinner’s sin most terrified wasn’t it? Maybe if the police thought the same way, they’d have found the butcher sooner… stopped him from killing so recklessly and indiscriminately five or ten victims ago… spared the lives of those who deserved to live and ended the life of the one who didn’t… Justice was blind, though, wasn’t it? And, as far as law enforcement was concerned, Percy guessed, it must also be more than a little deaf because, if the police had heard what he had heard while doling out frozen confections to the children of the City, it wouldn’t have mattered how blind justice was… Justice could have just followed the sounds right through the dark and ended up on the murderer’s doorstep… Percy had… and when he did, he figured that maybe justice wasn’t as blind as it claimed to be…
Deaf?
Sure.
Blind?
I doubt it, Popsicle Percy had grinned as he steered his Ice Cream truck through a sprawling slum on the outskirts of City Fantastico. Look at this hole… They probably got less than a block deep before the looks of this place sent them scurrying back downtown with their badges in their butts.
He was humming happily along to the tinny strains of The Entertainer as it blared, incessantly, into the s#!t-sprinkled streets from the speaker mounted on the roof, that night. It didn’t surprise him that no one in this neighborhood came running for ice cream, of course… even if people here did let their kids out on the streets, they were at least smart enough to only do so in the daylight, and the people on the streets, now, were just the kind of sinners that let Percy know he’d be running a semi-regular route in this section of the city very soon… but before you establish the route, you’ve got to get that first customer, right?
Right.
And to get that first customer, you’ve got to stop the truck, right?
Right again, Percy grinned as he turned the slime-sauced corner onto a dark street flanked by decrepit tenements and storehouses. The grin got bigger when a bare, yellow bulb winked at him from the street-level window of an otherwise unlit building and he eased the truck over to the curb in front of it. “Someone here needs a visit from the Ice Cream Man, I think… Kidnap and cut up people…. Do the same thing to their families… sounds like a sin to me…” He threw the truck into “Park” and disappeared into the back to gather his supplies and emerged a few moments later with an ice cream scoop in each hand and half a dozen popsicles stuffed in his apron pockets… “A sin worthy of a double-dip of justice…”
Percy hadn’t quite finished when the others showed up… he’d scooped out the butcher’s eyeballs and pocketed them for later but hadn’t quite gotten around to poking the popsicles into the empty sockets when a squad of paramilitary types showed up. He was just a little disappointed… probably not as much as the other guys apparently were, though, judging by the expressions that gawked back at him from behind the guns, they weren’t quite expecting to find him there… Trying to run, at that point, probably wouldn’t have been a good idea, Percy decided, and, given the number of guns that were trained on him, didn’t imagine that these fellows were going to allow him to finish making this particular Sinner Sundae… “Hmmm….”
After an overlong moment spent staring back at the paramilitary types and humming along with the music that still churned from truck outside, he held out the popsicles he’d already unwrapped to the closest two… “Bomb pop?” he chuckled before letting the things fall unceremoniously to the floor and then producing the butcher’s eyes from his apron; “Or, maybe you like good old fashioned Eyes Cream?”
~*~*~*~*~
They hadn’t shot him.
That was good.
They had cuffed and shackled him, though.
Not so good.
They’d also confiscated his truck and, horror of horrors, turned off the music.
Really not good.
How is the kill kone topped off properly if you don’t get to hear “Pop Goes The Weasel” when it’s over? It’s like the cherry on top for Chrissake! You can’t just hand out a sundae without the friggin’ cherry on top! It’s just not right… “Nuts,” he snickered as they loaded him up and whisked him off.
He spent the next few hours in a room where the only entertainment was singing “Pop Goes the Weasel” to himself and staring back at the eyes he knew were just on the other side of the mirror over there… He had just begun to wonder if they were going to leave him there when a couple of nervous looking gents showed up and escorted him to a rather severe looking office where he was shoved into the presence of a rather motley assortment of other folks who stood, waiting, before none other than Mr Fantasti V, himself. “If all of them want ice cream,” he smiled over his shoulder at his escorts, “I’m going to need my tuck…”
The guys didn’t answer, of course, and didn’t even bother to take of the cuffs and shackles before they left him with these others… Not even the courtesy of introductions… he sighed as his too-large eyes swept from face to face and, with a clattering of his restraints, reached up to adjust his hat before offering an odd smile to no one in particular… he jingled the chains again as his hands fell away from the hat and the smile got broader and stranger… and, as Percy’s eyes meandered back across the assemblage of faces to, finally, come to a rest on Mr Fantasti V’s, couldn’t help but sing along…
Do your chains hang low?
Do they wobble to and fro?
Can you tie ‘em in a knot?
Can tie ‘em in a bow?
Can you throw ‘em o’er yer shoulder like a Fantastico soldier?
Do your ears hang low?
… “Hmmm,” he snickered when all he got were befuddled stares for his efforts, “No?” He shrugged and jingled the chains once more before taking a seat on the floor… “Okay… how about this one?”
Do your arm pits smell?
Do they make you feel unwell?
Do people think you're mean,
When you join in with the team?
Are they worse than a bad fart, after eating baked beans?
Do your arm pits smell?
Again… nothing… “You people just don’t like ice cream, do you,” he muttered before falling into a smiling silence and letting his all-too-happy gaze wander as Fanatsti went on with the “orientation.” When it was over, he (softly singing variations of Do Your Ears Hang Low) and the others were escorted to the loading docks, where his restraints were finally removed… The others talked among themselves and set about reclaiming their gear as Percy tottered around the place (to the limits he was allowed, at any rate) and tried to find his truck amongst the array of APCs that were already parked here…
He heard the chatter between the others, of course… listened as each gave away little pieces of themselves like free samples in order coax the others into buying what they were selling… He might have visibly cringed when one of them said something about having once thrown an axe at an ice cream truck and he might have snickered a little bit at the exchange between the good-looking guy and the rough-and-tumble redhead, but he didn’t really acknowledge that any of them were there until…
"So. We've got a stunt man, a beautiful red-headed... gun bunny I'm guessing judging by all of the weaponry you just stashed away. How about you guys,” the Face asked smugly, “what are you good for?"
“I sell ice cream,” Percy called back… he almost forgot what else he was going to say because he finally picked out the faded pinks, whites, and blues of his trucks paintjob and was making a beeline towards that beloved vehicle… as he threw the door open and climbed up into the driver’s seat, though, it came back to him and he grinned at the cocky bastard who had just asked what he was good for… “and sometimes I kill motherf*****s and make banana splits out of ‘em!”
He giggled with a hysterical delight as he started the truck and Pop Goes the Weasel began to echo through the bay…
All around the city of stench
the monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought it was all in fun...
Pop! Goes the weasel...
Pop-pop-pop goes the weasel, the weasel
Pop-pop-pop goes the weasel.
Pop goes the weasel cus the weasel goes pop!
“...You guys want some ice cream?”
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 20:27:53.
Edited on 2011-02-17 at 20:28:26 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: There...
...dammit!!!
Headaches and all that other nonsense have finally given me a respite... Not much of a post from Flynn but a post nonetheless... here's hoping it gets better. 
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 17:13:33.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off
Subject: ...
Flynn, in these last hours, had rapidly come to understand exactly why the tales and songs he had heard of the Heroes of Freegate were so fantastic… What he was having a difficult time comprehending was exactly how those other bards had managed to keep everything straight and in order long enough to be able to weave coherent lyrics or prose from it all. This lot seemed to fall from one fantastic event to another with scarce enough time between each to so much as sneeze, let alone begin to sketch a composition of any sort… he had begun to wonder, in fact, if any of those other bards had ever actually travelled with this troupe and, if any before him had, how they had managed to survive the journey with memory in tact… surely none of them had the time to do so whilst trudging the wilds or the dungeons…
Attacked by puppets and taunted by the puppeteer… chasing down an impetuous cutpurse only to find him scarcely alive… having to see to the lad and his dragonette’s well being (and getting slapped in the face… and scratched on the hand… for the efforts) while the party was simultaneously beset by spiders the size of small ponies… and now this…
Flynn could have sworn that, just a moment ago, he saw the Lady Dionlyspe cross from one door to another in the very room where he now stood with Freegate’s Heroes. The vision, as fleeting as it was, was so clear that he could smell her perfume and hear the rustling silks of her skirts and light falls of her feet as she crossed the floor… and his heart sang for brief moment to see her… until, as similarly bewildered expressions and glances passed from face to face of those around him and the big pit-cat Maximus actually called out for Jal, Flynn came to the realization that what he saw could not possibly have been Irinya… She was dead, after all… He’d not have his fiddle were that not so, would he? The fingers of his left hand curled, almost uncomfortably, about the neck of the instrument even as the fingers on his right sought out the hilt of his scimitar…
"It appears something in this area has the ability to read our minds or at least peer into our memories,” Valentine said, “I know the man I saw to be dead, barring some unholy and extremely potent magical abilities. But yet he was one of the few Imperials I wholly and fully trusted. This appears to be a trap, or a bait of some kind. We should exercise extreme caution."
Char looked towards him and gave a nod. "Aye. I' wa' da same fer me. Some-tin wan' us t' go dat way fer sure..."
Replacing the arrow in his quiver, Char slung his bow and drew his swords again. "We canna le' de invi' go. We shou' knock."
“Aye,” Flynn agreed after a moment spent considering the situation, “Although, I suppose, there’s no need to knock… I believe we’re expected…” His right hand drifted away from the scimitar’s hilt, then, and took hold of his fiddle-bow as the instrument found its way to nestle in the crook of his neck… The bow skipped across the strings and the resultant tune conjured a confidently expectant smile on the half-elf’s lips … “Mayhaps we should just stroll on in and see who all is at the dance, eh?”
The bow was, once more relegated to his left hand and the right, at last, drew the scimitar forth from its slings…
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 17:11:30.
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Topic: City Fantastico Q&A: The Quest for Liquor and Shame
Subject: :D
Thanks, Loki... Percy was kind of a trick, really... a little trickier to get together than I had imagined originally, actually but will be loads of fun to play, I think.
Speaking of playing... niiiice posts, everyone... I'll endeavor to get a postsicle of my own tacked on to the thread very soon... had intended to have done so already but got waylaid by a monster headache and case of he oogies. Need to tack something on to CWWLLO and then Percy's up... let's hope he lives up to creepifying expectations and the standard set by everyone else, hmmm?
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 15:24:07.
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Topic: Voyages of Rocinante - Serenity/Firefly RPG
Subject: There...
Drifting in the Black, Day Eight 2:45 pm Ship Time
I’m gorram sick an’ ruttin’ tired o’ bein’ used by ever’one in the motherhumpin’ Verse!
Dash’s recently improving demeanor hadn’t necessarily gotten worse… he wasn’t storming the decks kicking and cussing or, for that matter, being any sort of unbearable as far as he could tell… but it had nudged the pilot off course and into a grim (and, possibly, somewhat humiliated) silence while he stewed over how to get Roc back to Regina with a quickness. If he said anything, it was grumbled under his breath and punctuated with derisive snorts or heavy-handed button mashing and switch flipping… So, it wasn’t too hard of a thing for Sam to keep his head down and mouth shut while Miss Wil was chatting Bridget up on the wave…
Shoulda ruttin’ seen this go se comin’, I reckon! Gorram Alliance used me ta do their dirty work same way as this meh lien duh jyah jee Bridget used me ta get ‘er hooks inta Wyatt an’ them… Just say some purdy words ta Sam… Give ‘im the ol’ reach around… an’ he’ll fall fer whatever da bian hua ya wanna run down his throat… Go ahead, he’s too gorram stupid ta know th’ ruttin differ’nce til it’s too late, anyhoo!
“…If what I hear was on the LN is half of the truth, it will be more than enough to share so let's not be greedy about this. I don't mind sharing as I am sure Sam will tell you. See you soon Sugar.”
It was just a little tricky for him to keep his mouth shut at that, though, but he gritted his teeth and held back until the transmission between the two women had ended. “Chwee ni duh, whore,” he growled not a nanosecond after the screen winked into darkness, “I hope yer gorram ya-ya falls out.”
"Willow," Wyatt stated without turning around or changing stance. "If I conjure correct, The Lucius Newberry was a ship that Kora got mixed up with, an' now Miss Bridgette speaks of it. What more do we need to know abou' this situation, and what's the plan yer cookin' up in that pretty little brainpan o' yers?"
Sam almost glanced at Wyatt, then but he was having a really hard time meeting anyone else’s eyes, right now… especially Wyatt’s… so he hid that by keeping his attentions to sensors and nav-calculations while Willow expounded on her plan. As angry as Dash was about this whole situation, he was that much and half again ashamed of the part he had played in getting them into it… he regretted, now, not listening to all the cautions about that jien huo Bridget from the Captain (and Willow) and for not taking the opportunities he’d been given to cut himself loose from the problem… he’d let Wyatt down, this time… Just like he’d let all those innocents down all those years ago in that other life… for damn near the same reasons and with damn near the same outcome…
Folks always seem ta end up neck deep in trouble an’ pain as they don’t deserve cuz of my bad decisions… Don’t matter where I run… or who I say I am… innocent or not…
(Assuming no major events between here and the time everyone else leaves the bridge, backposts as necessary, however…)
Sam stayed on the bridge for a better part of the night, working his brain double-time with figuring and calculating and plotting, and, by the time he finally forced himself to abandon his seat in favor of sleep, he’d managed to get the trip back to Regina shaved down to twenty-four hours. It wasn’t quite as fast as he would have liked, of course, but this crap wasn’t science fiction, was it… Ya can’t just flip a ruttin’ switch and go tearin’ across the Verse at lightspeed, can ya?… and, given their distance from that particular rock, now, twenty-four hours was a damn impressive run for a Firefly. It would do…
The sleep Sam thought to get once he retired to his bunk didn’t come easily. He tossed and turned and grumbled and fumed for a good spell before he finally tore himself from the bunk and hauled a trunk out of its hiding place under the bed. He thumbed quickly through the combination on the lock and, after flipping the lid open, pulled out the chameleon suit that he hadn’t used in Buddha-knew-how-long… Might come in handy, he smirked tossing the thing onto the mattress before once more reaching into the trunk and retrieving the sniper rifle he’d kept there, an’, I reckon, you an’ me are gonna have some playtime, too, darlin’…
Sam passed the next hours cleaning the rifle, checking to ensure that the chameleon suit still worked, and, then, cleaning the rest of his weapons… He’d second guessed his calculations once or twice, as well, and passed back and forth between his bunk and the bridge more than once in the night but, finally, with nothing left but the waiting, he finally managed to close his eyes and nap out for a while...
Day Nine 2:00 am Ship Time
...And it wasn’t long after he awoke and joined Wyatt on the bridge that Wolf announced that Rocinante was in fine enough shape to get underway again.
“All I needed to hear,” the pilot grumbled, pouring a cup of coffee down his throat as he stomped across the deck and tossed himself into the pilot’s seat, “You folks might wanna buckle up er somethin’, I fixin’ to put some spur ta ass, here… We’ll be burnin’ atmo over Frisco in 24 or less…”
Wyatt clapped him on the shoulder, then, and Sam was finally able to at least look in the man’s direction, again… Wyatt hadn’t said anything, of course… hadn’t really needed to… and Sam didn’t figure he needed to, either, but still…
“Wyatt…”
(Assuming the Cap pauses a step or two…)
“…I ain’t so sure that there’s many innocent folk left in the Verse… but… uh… you an’ this crew… yer as close as it comes, way I figger it, puhn yoh… an’ I’m right sorry fer anythin’ I done ta hump things up…”
It was about that long that Sam was able to manage and he turned his gaze back to the console in front of him… “I aim ta fix that, Cap…. But, like I sez… I ain’t so sure there’s many innocent folk left… might get all kinds o’ ugly, get me?...”
((Sorry gang... headache had me out most of yesterday but I finally got this one done... Off we go to Frisco, full burn... ))
Posted on 2011-02-17 at 15:12:23.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: En route
Ended up getting sick yesterday and came home and went to bed instead of finishing my posts. Took the day off today... going to the doc this morning and, thereafter, will curl up on the couch with the laptop and finish up...
Posted on 2011-02-16 at 12:44:08.
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Topic: Voyages of the Rocinante - Firefly RPG QnA
Subject: No doubt!
Nice post, Ody... and, since Ash is your character, now, you take him where you want to. You read the "thus far" relationship between Sam and Ash correctly, as well... Kind of a brotherly thing. *nods*
As to Ash finding out who and what Sam once was... wellll... ain't too many folk in the Verse as're privy ta that li'l nugget, puhn yoh, an' Sam don' figger on lettin' no others find out... That's th' whole point o' bein' Sam, after all...
Posted on 2011-02-15 at 15:40:57.
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: Oh geez!
Keeping the good vibes out in the Universe for you, Pekka... All my best to you and yours.
On a game related note... posts from me today for CWWLLO and Rocinante.
Posted on 2011-02-15 at 12:30:25.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: This is not blank
Name: “Popsicle Percy”
Attributes
Physical - 3
Mental - 4
Social - 2
Skill - 4
Awesome - 3
Skills:
Stealth
Thievery
Sabotage
Medicine
Specializations:
Medicine - Surgery
Medicine - Anesthesia
Stealth - Stalking
Sabotage - Poison
Thievery – pick locks
Stealth - disguise
Sabotage - Demolitions
Medicine - Anatomy
Advantages:
Off the Grid
-“Popsicle Percy”? Who?
Crazy Prepared
-You don’t get to be a notorious serial killer by NOT having backup plan after backup plan on ice, now, do you?
Kung Shui Sundae
-Percy is exceptionally adept at finding ways to torture, maim, and/or kill folks using only those items that might be found on an ice cream truck… with sprinkles
Disadvantages:
Oh... that just ain't right!
- Preternaturally weird and creepy... Works all right for the serial killer in him but not so much when it comes to dealing with normal folks... Even kids who buy ice cream off his truck get ooged out when they really look at the banana splits he makes and can't help but notice that they look like cadavers on autopsy tables... looking like the bastard lovechild of Steve Buscemi and Christopher Walken doesn't help, either...
Items and Equipment:
Ice Cream (I scream?) Truck
Other stuff ???
Physical Description/Personality Description
“Popsicle Percy” wasn’t too prolific a name in City Fantastico until Mr Fantasti IV disappeared… He was around, of course, trolling the city for his preferred victims (pedophiles, rapists, wife/child-beaters, people who talk in theaters, those that don’t clean up after their pets… that sort of thing ) and/or customers (somebody’s got to buy this ice cream or else there won’t be any room in the freezers for the bodies, after all)… Sure, a “Slaughter Sundae” would show up from time to time (seemingly at random) but, up until Fantasti IV went missing and Fantasti V took over, City Fantastico wasn’t quite crime-ridden enough for Percy to really build up the “clientele” he needed to get up there on the list with folks like “Zodiac” or Charlie Manson or “The Sundae of Sam” (not that Percy ever compared himself to losers like that). That lack of notoriety served him pretty well, though – kept him off the radar, so to speak, and gave him the time he needed to really perfect his craft (and his banana splits) – and, by the time things “went south” for City Fantastico as a whole and crime made a roaring comeback, Percy was more than ready to jump into the murky limelight and it wasn’t long until Percy’s body count started climbing and the name “Bomb Pop” took on a more literal designation ...
Musical Interlude
Dedicate one to the sinners...
Now summertime's here bub, need somethin' to get you killed
Ah, now summertime's here bub, need somethin' to get you killed
Better look out now though, Percy’s got somethin' for you
Tell ya what it is
I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
Oh my, my, I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
See now all my flavors are guaranteed to make you die
Hold on a second baby
I got bim bam banana pops, dixie cups
All flavors and pushups too
I'm your ice cream man, sinner, stop me when I'm passin' by
See now all my flavors are guaranteed to make you die
Hold on, one more
Well I'm usually passin' by just about eleven o'clock
Uh huh, I never stop
I'm usually passin' by just around eleven o'clock
And if ya' let me kill you one time, you'll become a pudding pop!
All right boys!
I got bim bam banana pops, dixie cups
All flavors and pushups too
I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
See now all my flavors are guaranteed to make you die, yes
I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
They say all my flavors are guaranteed to make you die
Ah one time
(Guitar Solo)
I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
I'm your ice cream man, fear me when I'm passin' by
They say all my flavors are guaranteed to make you die
One time boys!
I'm your ice cream man
I'm your ice cream man
B-B-B-B-B-B-B-Baby!
Ah my my my
All my flavors are guaranteed......to make-uh-you-die
Ow!
Posted on 2011-02-14 at 21:16:39.
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Topic: Titles and Pics
Subject: Answers...
Yep.. a "special title" is something that you earn (or, are supposed to earn," anyway)... Earning a title usually requires that you have been an Innmate for a year and/or have 1000 posts under your belt (you do not have to have both, of course... either/or is usually good enough). But, even at that, having the year in and/or the post count necessary doesn't always guarantee that you'll get a title. A lot of earning a title is dependent upon what you contribute to the Inn... Are you helpful and friendly and all those gooey things to your fellow Innmates and newbies alike? Do you "contribute" to the Red Dragon Inn with article submissions, informative posts, etc? The list goes on, really... there are lots of things that get considered where custom titles go but, these are just a few of the "guidelines" that the staff hereabouts go by when determining who gets a title...
Now, typically, when/if you first get a title it's probably going to be something that one of we moderators have bestowed upon you and, in a lot of cases, will be relevant to something you do/have done/etc to make you "notorious" in our hallowed halls (i.e. Pit F(r)iend was given the "Welcome Waggin'" title because of his exuberance in greeting newbies and waggin his big ol' tail as he did so, Odyson got tagged with "Pun-dit" because, ding dang it, he's just puntastic... etc, etc, etc...)
Sooo... there's that...
As to the custom avatars... there's no real "set time frame" for approval and such where that goes... it's still kind of a manual review/approve process even though, in recent years, the "Suggest a New Avatar" link has rather automated the submission process... As the "freetime" loosens up for our webmaster or our other admin types, those submissions are usually approved and then added to the list of picks once they've been okayed. if it's been overly long, you can always drop a PM to the webmaster and maybe give him a subtle nudge... If he's not buried under RL he's usually pretty decent about getting back to you.
Posted on 2011-02-14 at 18:14:07.
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Topic: Valentine's Present
Subject: I got...
...to make my own coffee, take out the trash, and come to work.
Oh yeah... I also got to log in here and tell all you Innmates that Eol loves you!
Posted on 2011-02-14 at 15:51:29.
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Topic: an experiment
Subject: I say...
...take that idea and post it up, Celeste! Sounds like a bit of freeform fun that everyone could get in to. I'm sure I could come up with a character or seven that might pass through said tavern/inn from time to time...
Also, I say... Who is this Sandrana and how in the heck did I miss a newbie?!?!? 
*facelick* Welcome to the Inn, Sandrana... You've got a proper one of those coming sooner or later.
Posted on 2011-02-14 at 14:07:47.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: Hopefully...
...Eol's character will be in before the end of today.
Had an unexpectedly busy weekend and had my original plans derailed. Meetings and such this morning but should have "think time" before the sun goes down. 
Posted on 2011-02-14 at 13:53:11.
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Topic: grounded...grrr
Subject: My pleasure...
...us old guys know a thing or two sometimes.
As to the boredom... hang in there... things look as if they're back on the upswing around here so, I imagine, it won't be too much longer before the place is just flooded with new games and such... Always a good way to combat boredom, don'cha think?
Posted on 2011-02-12 at 15:13:25.
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Topic: The Fates of Fortune
Subject: The Dreamweaver's Revisited
A short while later…
The angst and tension had seeped from Cay’s demeanor it seemed… There had been a brief flash of annoyance in her eyes when, in the process of tending to the cut on her palm, Nyx had softly chastised her for not having taken better care of it to begin with but, aside from that, if there was anything left of that earlier upwelling of anxiety, it had vanished behind a veil of quiet pensiveness… He was sure that there were things she wasn’t telling him. Things, too, that he was unable to read, with any great clarity, in either her eyes or her body-language. And, though the mith’ganni wished he might somehow draw those things out so that he might help to alleviate them, he also knew that, right now, those things were a pot left unstirred. Any attempts to do so, Nyx imagined, would only serve to return her to that frenetic state from which she had recently escaped… and that sort of chaos would not be conducive travelling Drasnia’s waking streets unnoticed…. Cay was calm for the time being and that was the important thing.
The Witch remained calm, too, as she and Nyx finally abandoned the crypt and made their way from the cemetery towards where the Dreamweaver’s shoppe nestled near the eastern walls of the city. With Cay lost in the silent contemplation of her own thoughts and Nyx with his mind on necessary preparations and attentions keenly on their surroundings as they moved, few words passed between them as they whispered through the streets. Despite their silence, though, there was communication between the pair… a gentle stream of tacit contact that flowed across the scant space between them… unvoiced questions and concerns borne to the surface by a meaningful glance or a momentary hesitation in a step… those queries and fears answered or assuaged by a subtle touch or a faint smile. And so it went… the things unspoken remaining so for the entirety of the trip between the cemetery and the seamstress’ shop and not more than a word crossing the lips of sorceress or assassin until they finally swept into Taellyn’s store where, as was his habit, Nyx reached up to silence the bells that were set to tinkling by the opening of the door.
“Late again, Steppe Son,” Taellyn’s lyrical voice called from behind the curtain that separated her storefront from the storage and workspaces at the building’s rear, “I had expected you sooner.”
Nyx chuffed softly and cast a glance at Cay, rolling his yellow eyes in mock irritation, before letting them drift in the direction from whence the woman’s voice had come. “There will be a fee associated with that, I would imagine,” he smirked, releasing his muffling grip on the string of bells and locking the door before ushering Cay deeper into the store.
“You have a good imagination, boy.” The curtain rustled as if stirred by the breeze of the Dreamweaver’s light laughter.
“I have no need of imagination, crone,” Nyx replied as the matronly elf emerged, smiling, from behind the curtain, “I have a painful familiarity with your pricing that serves me just fine.”
“Now, Steppe Son,” Taellyn grinned, feigning indignance, “surely an extra copper or two…”
“Three.”
“…isn’t anywhere near your threshold of pain is… Oh…” Taellyn’s playfully mocking smile morphed into one that expressed a more genuine warmth when her silver eyes fell on Cay.
“Oh,” she repeated, her eyes dancing between the two, “and you’ve brought your lovely lady with you, again… Delightful…”
Cormamin lindua ele lle, Cayrimsa,” she said, her warm smile taking on a faint tinge of distaste when she took notice of Cay’s attire, “even dressed in that,” she added, casting a scornful look in the mith’ganni’s direction.
Nyx chuckled softly as he drew back the cowl of his cloak; “I thought that that might have been a bit more acceptable than making her walk across the city naked, yes? Although, knowing you as I do, I suppose there will be yet an additional fee for my having forced her to wear the thing, at all…”
“Hmph, you should be made to pay her for having to suffer its weight,” Taellyn shot back, reaching out a hand to gingerly lay cay’s cloak back over her shoulders and examine the now ruined coat, “What have you done to this poor girl? This is atrocious.”
“Perhaps,” Nyx smirked, wandering toward a long counter where he doffed his own cloak and relieved himself of the duffel he had packed earlier, “but the craftsmanship was passable while it lasted… You have another ready for me, yes?”
“In the back,” Taellyn answered with the wave of a hand, not bothering to glance at the assassin when she did, “you know the place…”
“And you can find something suitable for arwenamin, in short order, I would guess,” Nyx called back, having already disappeard behind the curtain, “without testing the ‘threshold of my pain’ too severely?”
“Aiya, amin nowa ikotane,” the Dreamweaver’s smile veritably sparkled with something more than mirth as she, at last, flicked a glance over her shoulder in the direction Nyx had gone and then returned her (elated?) gaze back to Cay. Her brows lifted and she mouthed the word ‘arwenho’ past the smile she presented to Cay, then…
“Melaho, nowa amin, uma?” she whispered with a wink, stepping back a pace from the woman Nyx had brought to her shop for a second time.
The Wharf Witch’s cheeks flushed pink, then, and, though it was released into the air on less than a whisper, the old Dreamweaver heard Cay utter; “Melamin…”
“I had hoped as much,” Taellyn smiled knowingly. She gestured towards the fabric-draped doorway; “Come, dear, let’s see what we can find for you, hm?” Her slender fingers reached out to touch the fabric of the coat draped over the half-elf’s frame as they glided towards the rear of the shop; “And, perhaps, we shall burn this rag when we are finished…”
She drew the curtain aside, holding it out of the way as she motioned for Cay move through ahead of her and, as she did so, revealed Nyx, stripped to the waist and turned to face away from them, in the midst of donning the new coat she had made him. Her brows rose curiously when she caught a glimpse of the twisting, crimson tree that climbed the mith’ganni’s spine and had begun to spread its branches over the pale skin of his back. Taellyn’s expressive silver eyes flitted to Cay for an instant and, noting the mix of surprise and sheepishness that comingled on theWitch’s features at the sight of that tree, offered a smile that bespoke an arcane understanding…
Arwenho… Melaho… More than just your lady and your love, then, isn’t she, Steppe Son? Re naa coialle, n’uma? Ar’ lle sii’ naa he.
…When, after gently urging Cay the next few steps past the curtain, Taellyn’s eyes found their way back to Nyx, the mith’ganni had slipped his arms into the new coat, covering the mark again, and had turned to face them. “It’s as passable as the last, I hope,” the seamstress grinned as Nyx’s golden eyes lifted to, first, find Cay’s and then hers after.
“It will do,” Nyx smirked in reply as he fastened himself into the garment and tested (unnecessarily) it to ensure it would allow him the freedom of movement that his profession and preferences required. “It fits well,” he added, snugging up a strap that held the front of the thing closed before his fingers drifted to where a constellation of stars had been embroidered on the breast, “and the sigil is far more appropriate, now, I think…”
Taellyn couldn’t help but notice the warmth in the assassin’s gaze as it lifted from those threadworked stars and lingered on Cay for a moment. It was a warmth which she hadn’t seen in any expression that had played on Nyx’s features in so many years that she had stopped counting and, while she had to admit that it wasn’t completely unexcpected, it had taken her aback enough to coax a joyful tear from her…
Nyx made quick work of the rest of his preparations – strapping his belt over the new coat and relegating an assortment of blades to their proper places – and, then, with that doting smile still gracing his lips, moved forward to gather Cay in his arms and kissed her tenderly, firt on the mouth and, then, on the tip of one maimed ear before releasing the half-elf. “There are arrangments yet to be made, elen en cormamin,” he said to Cay, “I shall tend to those while the Dreamweaver tends to you, yes? And when I return, we shall need to be on our way. Time grows short.”
“Alright,” Cay murmured, her fingers and eyes lingering as long as they could on his as Nyx backed away, “Tira ten’ rashwe, ithilamin.”
…As surprising as the mith’ganni’s affectionate smile had been, though, Taellyn imagined she could have been knocked over with a feather when Nyx turned his eyes on her and said; “Diola lle, Taellyn; seler’ en ataramin.”
“Seasamin, Steppe Son,” Taellyn smiled as Nyx slipped silenty away from where she stood with Cay and, then out of the shop all together.
When he was gone, the Dreamweaver turned her eyes on Drasnia’s Witch of the Wharf again and, smiling sweetly as she gave the younger woman another once over, took her by the hand and guided her towards another room where she kept a selection of things that she imagined might just be perfect. “Come, Cay,” she cooed, “If I know Nyx, he won’t be long in making those arrangements and you and I, I think, have much to do and much to discuss in that short while, don’t we?”
((OOC: And there we go, faithful readers... keep an eye on the "Fates of Fortune Art" thread in the next day or so... I should have a rendition of Cay's new garb ready to post there before too much longer... Meri will be moving us forward with her next update, I imagine.))
Posted on 2011-02-11 at 19:44:22.
Edited on 2011-02-11 at 19:47:04 by Eol Fefalas
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Topic: Continuing Where We Last Left Off Q&A
Subject: *Clang clang*
I'll see what I can do... need to manage a post first, though. 
Posted on 2011-02-11 at 17:17:14.
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Topic: HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHIEF!!
Subject: Yup, yup...
..birthdays are like baths... ya gotta have one once a year whether ya like it or not! 
Huh... come to think of it, that'd be a good rule for facelicks, too, wouldn't it?
*facelick*
Happy Birthday, Olan!
Many happy returns... (emphasis on return... *winknudgenudgewink*)
Posted on 2011-02-11 at 13:36:35.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: I am somehow a someone...
...who missed the character creation post.
Remedying that now and hope to have a character cranked out soon.
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 18:49:44.
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Topic: The Wizards' Duel
Subject: o.O
I am ageusia which makes what something tastes like pretty much irrelevant.
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 13:47:48.
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Topic: grounded...grrr
Subject: Huh...
...Well, welcome back.
And, hey... If ya don't mind a little advice from an old dude who's kinda "been there/done that" - When jerks like that run their mouths and you respond with fists, you're giving them exactly what they want... The best way to deal with crap like that, honestly, is to ignore it... or, have fun with it...
Jerk: "Dude, you're so gay!"
You: "You hope... Don't ask me to prom. You're not my type."
Jerk: "You're mom wears combat boots!"
You: "Yes she does... she finds them quite comfortable actually..."
...Something like that... *shrugs*... It'll either shut him up or aggravate the crap out of him enough that, if it does have to come to blows, the first punch is on him and, guess what... he throws the first punch and you're just defending yourself.
Avoid fights when you can, dude... they hurt later on, trust me... and, y'know, no one really wins a fight... one guy just loses a little less than the other.
Also... *facelick*
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 13:44:28.
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Topic: Recruitment is Closed
Subject: You know...
...guests are less distracting after being dosed with ether, hogtied, gagged, and leaned in the hall closet next to the vacuum cleaner...
...uh...
You didn't hear that from me, though...
...ahem...
...how would I know something like that, right?
*waves hand*
I... uh...I was never here...
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 01:04:39.
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Topic: Dynasty of Evil
Subject: *blinks*
...whoa...
I totally shivered...
Awesome.
Eagerly awaiting more.
Posted on 2011-02-10 at 00:47:40.
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Topic: New Here - Hello!
Subject: LOL...
Eol doesn't forget... but he does sometimes reboot and, as a result, the facelick routines have to cycle through again.
*facelicks Tann*
Posted on 2011-02-09 at 20:08:04.
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Topic: My Next Story
Subject: Well done...
...definitely an intro that should be followed up, IMO... I'd read it.
Please do continue.
Oh... and you missed an "e" in relegated... 
Posted on 2011-02-09 at 14:49:14.
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