BOWWOWMEOW
The payment of a bill
09/16/2018 05:46 PM CDT
A lot of clanging sounds, along with some muffled curses approaches the East Gate of Riverhaven. As the source of the sound appears and comes through the gate, you see an odd collection of people, and objects. A few gnomes appear to be holding various tools, ladders, buckets, and jars, stumbling over each other as they struggle with their burden. Leading the group a smaller female gnome prances ahead, stopping every few feet to look back and scowl. “Will you guys come ON! We don’t have all night, you know.” Her demands are met with complaints, so the woman stops, folds her arms across her chest and orders, “You are not doing this for free. I did not ask you for a favor. I asked if you wanted to make some money, which you claimed you wanted. Are you going to do this, or am I getting someone else?” The worker gnomes grunted at her, so she nodded once, flipped her hair, and stuck her nose into the air haughtily as she pranced forward once more.
After a short walk northeast, the woman stopped suddenly, causing the workers to bump into her, and each other. The woman just gets her balance and exclaims, “Here we are! Right through the gate, and you should be able to see the badly destroyed door.” The woman can’t help but roll her eyes at the last part of her statement. As the group goes through the gate to the Order of the Dragon Shield house, the workers quickly approached the grand door to the house, eager to get done with their work. They examine the door, and look questioningly at the woman. One stout man asks, “This is the damage that they are demanding 10,000 platinum lirum to repair?” The woman snickers, and nods, “Yes, this little tiny thing, slightly more than a scratch is supposed to cost 10,000 platinum. They want to replace the entire door, they claim. Can it be fixed to look good as new?” The man continues to look over the damage left by the axe of an angry Olvi and assures the woman that it would be no problem.
She steps back as the workers begin preparing the door. As they saw, sand, and hammer, the woman takes a campstool out of her tiny pouch, opens it up and sits. Her forehead furrows as she pulls out a vivid pink piece of paper edged with daisies. She reaches for her quill, a scowl on her face, and begins to write. After a bit, she is satisfied with the words on the paper, so she gets up and walks over to the donkey left in the yard. “Poor Beau. I bet you must get hungry without someone coming by to sneak treats to you. I bought some for you though! Please eat these nice veggies and leave my letter for the folks that belong here, okay?” She pets the donkey, and as he starts to eat the vegetables offered, she believes he will keep the deal. She goes over and asks the workers for a few supplies, and begins to assemble them.
Soon, the workers are all finished, and the door looks as though nothing ever happened. The donkey is fed and happy. All is as it should be, except that a pole has been put into the ground in a sandy spot, well away from any flowers. A wooden plank has been nailed to the pole, and on the plank is nailed a vivid pink paper, and 10 copper lirums, glued to form a smiley face.
If you were to get close enough to read the paper, you’d see it says:
Rekon, and the rest of the Order of the Dragon Shield,
Since I am the reason the door was damaged, I took it upon myself to repair it. I’m not sure who you went to for that appraisal of 10,000 plats, but I had it done at a much better rate. I have examined the door myself, and it is flawless. I can give you the name of my guys in case you want to stop overspending for future repairs.
I understand you were upset that Rifkinn challenged you. I witnessed your order welcome the help of a necrolord, and made that public knowledge. I can not apologize for that. I also am not sorry that it has roused anger in others, including Rifkinn. I think it is a logical reaction to be angry when such things are just accepted. Rifkinn may have gotten heated when I was met with hostility about my deeds some 20 odd years ago, while at the same time a foul necrolord was welcomed. I apologize for the door, but perhaps instead of being angry about some people talking about your order, look inward and figure out why people are talking about it. As representatives of the ODS, you are in positions of authority and represent Therengia. Is befriending the profane what Therengia should be known for? Just some thoughts to ponder as you enjoy that lovely door.
I hope this concludes the business about a bill. I will give you a symbolic payment, and hope it suffices. All the best, Marssi Talmuron
PS The wooden plank is high quality. Feel free to use it for crafting. I won’t send a bill.
ARMAGNA
Re: The payment of a bill
09/17/2018 03:57 PM CDT
Tirost struggled to catch his breath. The muscles in his arms burned from over two anlas of constant exertion, and his eyes blinked unconsciously as the blood from his forehead flowed into them.
“Good work,” came the gruff voice of Alymast, as he slapped Tirost on the back with a force that nearly caused his legs to give out.
“Thanks,” replied Tirost. He began to catch his breath and regain his composure.
“Nith, Tirost's bleedin' again!” bellowed the Dwarf, and in the next moment the skilled empath was beside them, closing Tirost's wounds with potent life magic.
The three returned to East Gate of Riverhaven, and joined Neeno, Nefarious and Tunstall, who leaned on a massive kertig greatsword, his once shinning armor smeared with the blood of countless orcs.
A shout rose from the townsfolk gathered upon the battlements near the gate: “Victory!! Victory!! Gods bless the ODS!! Gods bless Baron Gyfford!!”
Cheers erupted from those in the crowd, and they showered the warriors below in the gathered petals of roses, carnations, violets, jasmine and wildflowers. Amidst the cries of relief and jubilation, a golden haired woman made her way through the gate to Tirost, clutching her infant daughter to her breast.
“Did you see my son?” she asked him with panic in her voice, “Did you see my Edmund?”
Tirost looked into her eyes, which welled with tears in the afternoon light. “I did,” he said quietly, and bowed his head in sorrow. “He passed before I could reach him. He is with the gods now.”
The sound of her wail brought tears to his eyes, and rage and sorrow warred in his heart. He held the weeping woman and her babe until she could recover enough to move back within the safety of the gate.
“Come, Tirost,” said Tunstall. “We're regrouping at headquarters.”
The adventurers made their way to the gate of the house serving as the headquarters of the Order of the Dragon Shield. As they made their way through, Tirost noticed a note nailed to a wooden plank in the courtyard. He took the note, wiped away the sweat and blood from his eyes, and read it.
“Alymast,” he said, “can you give this to Rekon the next time you see him?”
“What is it?” he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“Not really sure. Something about our door, I guess?”
Suddenly, they became aware of the sound of the ringing of the great bells of Riverhaven's Temple. Tirost and Alymast frowned.
Rekon's thoughts moved through their minds from their gwethdesuans: “I'm engaged with two gladiators outside the North Gate. They're preparing a second wave.”
“ODS! To arms!!” roared the Dwarf.
“They never learn,” said Nefarious with a smirk.
“Good,” replied Tunstall. “My greatsword's still thirsty for orcish blood.”
Tirost grit his teeth, and his hand instinctively began to trace a geometric sigil of the Swirling Winds spell.
“Good work,” came the gruff voice of Alymast, as he slapped Tirost on the back with a force that nearly caused his legs to give out.
“Thanks,” replied Tirost. He began to catch his breath and regain his composure.
“Nith, Tirost's bleedin' again!” bellowed the Dwarf, and in the next moment the skilled empath was beside them, closing Tirost's wounds with potent life magic.
The three returned to East Gate of Riverhaven, and joined Neeno, Nefarious and Tunstall, who leaned on a massive kertig greatsword, his once shinning armor smeared with the blood of countless orcs.
A shout rose from the townsfolk gathered upon the battlements near the gate: “Victory!! Victory!! Gods bless the ODS!! Gods bless Baron Gyfford!!”
Cheers erupted from those in the crowd, and they showered the warriors below in the gathered petals of roses, carnations, violets, jasmine and wildflowers. Amidst the cries of relief and jubilation, a golden haired woman made her way through the gate to Tirost, clutching her infant daughter to her breast.
“Did you see my son?” she asked him with panic in her voice, “Did you see my Edmund?”
Tirost looked into her eyes, which welled with tears in the afternoon light. “I did,” he said quietly, and bowed his head in sorrow. “He passed before I could reach him. He is with the gods now.”
The sound of her wail brought tears to his eyes, and rage and sorrow warred in his heart. He held the weeping woman and her babe until she could recover enough to move back within the safety of the gate.
“Come, Tirost,” said Tunstall. “We're regrouping at headquarters.”
The adventurers made their way to the gate of the house serving as the headquarters of the Order of the Dragon Shield. As they made their way through, Tirost noticed a note nailed to a wooden plank in the courtyard. He took the note, wiped away the sweat and blood from his eyes, and read it.
“Alymast,” he said, “can you give this to Rekon the next time you see him?”
“What is it?” he asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.
“Not really sure. Something about our door, I guess?”
Suddenly, they became aware of the sound of the ringing of the great bells of Riverhaven's Temple. Tirost and Alymast frowned.
Rekon's thoughts moved through their minds from their gwethdesuans: “I'm engaged with two gladiators outside the North Gate. They're preparing a second wave.”
“ODS! To arms!!” roared the Dwarf.
“They never learn,” said Nefarious with a smirk.
“Good,” replied Tunstall. “My greatsword's still thirsty for orcish blood.”
Tirost grit his teeth, and his hand instinctively began to trace a geometric sigil of the Swirling Winds spell.
LOCUTIS1
Re: The payment of a bill
09/18/2018 01:10 AM CDT
He stumbles up to the front door, his fatigue still so low, but he is almost home. He reaches the door and with his last ounce of strength he manages to bang his fists to the door.
The bang on the door rouses the golden haired woman, It is approaching early morning of the next day from which she had received the terrible news of her Son’s passing. Having not been able to sleep with the grief still overwhelming her, she gets up to open the door.
Standing before her is the figure of a young man dressed in bloodied armor barely holding himself upright.
“Edmund”! She screams, The young warrior falls into her arms and she helps him into the safety of the small little house that this poor RiverHaven family have shared since he could remember.
“The Order of the Dragon Shield told me you were….” she breaks down in tears of disbelief and joy, at seeing her only son returning from what it appeared to her, the grave.
“Mother, its ok, i made it home, Its ok, stop crying” The sons only concern now is to calm his loving mother and to let her know everything is alright.
“What happened, how is this possible…. They said you were with the Gods, that you had fallen” The mother says while looking at him up and down, noticing the dings, scratches and dried blood all over his heavy breast plate. While searching for any existing wounds but finding his body unbroken.
“I don't know, it is all a blur, There i was out on the field, There were Orc’s everywhere, In the distance i saw a defender, he was facing a lone Orc, the Orc was wielding and open palm and a bad temper. The fighter was overwhelmed and outmatched it seemed. I rushed to give the struggling defender assistance. In one slash of my sword i cut the Orc in two. Relieved of his foe, the defender retreated back to tend his wounds and ego. But out of nowhere i was jumped by five or six Orc warriors, i felt the sting of their metals cut my skin on my legs and arms, then i was blindsided with a blow to the head”.
Edmund paused to take a breath and sip the water his mother had placed next to him where he sat. “I'm not sure what happened next, i must have been knocked unconscious, my whole body was aching with the most terrible pain, In an instant it seemed if the Sun had set and darkness and befallen the lands. I was slipping in and out of consciousness, not knowing if my last breath was going to be my last”.
The Mother opens her mouth in protest “They left you! They left you out in the field….”
With a quiet modesty the young man raises a hand in a gentle motion to put pause to his Mother's frustration and anger.
The woman continue to listen on as the young man recounted his nights events. “Then at one point, just as i was feeling deaths grip taking me, i heard voices, muffled, they came closer. Next to me i heard the quiet concerned voice of an older Olvi, a reply from a softly spoken Gnomish Lass and the empathetic touch of a small warm palm rest on my forehead. It was as if that small feminine hand was releasing me from deaths grip. I must have drifted off again because next thing i knew i awoke, alone on the field not to long ago from now” So i made my way back to you.
As the young man's mother gathered her composer, Edmund stood to relieve himself of the heavy breastplate. He released the last strap and pulled the armor from his body, a pouch that had been tucked under it had fallen to the ground. Startled, the young man looked down at the brown hide pouch as his mother bent over to pick it up. She opens the pouch and starts to spill the many Platinum coins into the palm of her hand. “Oh my Edmund, where did you get this, it’s enough for us to leave this decaying town and make a new life for ourselves down south”.
Confused Edmund Looks at the multitude of coins now overflowing her palm and dropping onto the floor “I have no idea”
Just as the last of the coins flow from the pouch, a small parchment card falls out and flutters to the floor landing face up. Both Mother and Son bend closer to examine the card, The card is framed by tiny Bunnies and strawberries, As the mother picks the card up to read what is written, she see’s there are no words, nothing but a hand drawn smiley face.
The bang on the door rouses the golden haired woman, It is approaching early morning of the next day from which she had received the terrible news of her Son’s passing. Having not been able to sleep with the grief still overwhelming her, she gets up to open the door.
Standing before her is the figure of a young man dressed in bloodied armor barely holding himself upright.
“Edmund”! She screams, The young warrior falls into her arms and she helps him into the safety of the small little house that this poor RiverHaven family have shared since he could remember.
“The Order of the Dragon Shield told me you were….” she breaks down in tears of disbelief and joy, at seeing her only son returning from what it appeared to her, the grave.
“Mother, its ok, i made it home, Its ok, stop crying” The sons only concern now is to calm his loving mother and to let her know everything is alright.
“What happened, how is this possible…. They said you were with the Gods, that you had fallen” The mother says while looking at him up and down, noticing the dings, scratches and dried blood all over his heavy breast plate. While searching for any existing wounds but finding his body unbroken.
“I don't know, it is all a blur, There i was out on the field, There were Orc’s everywhere, In the distance i saw a defender, he was facing a lone Orc, the Orc was wielding and open palm and a bad temper. The fighter was overwhelmed and outmatched it seemed. I rushed to give the struggling defender assistance. In one slash of my sword i cut the Orc in two. Relieved of his foe, the defender retreated back to tend his wounds and ego. But out of nowhere i was jumped by five or six Orc warriors, i felt the sting of their metals cut my skin on my legs and arms, then i was blindsided with a blow to the head”.
Edmund paused to take a breath and sip the water his mother had placed next to him where he sat. “I'm not sure what happened next, i must have been knocked unconscious, my whole body was aching with the most terrible pain, In an instant it seemed if the Sun had set and darkness and befallen the lands. I was slipping in and out of consciousness, not knowing if my last breath was going to be my last”.
The Mother opens her mouth in protest “They left you! They left you out in the field….”
With a quiet modesty the young man raises a hand in a gentle motion to put pause to his Mother's frustration and anger.
The woman continue to listen on as the young man recounted his nights events. “Then at one point, just as i was feeling deaths grip taking me, i heard voices, muffled, they came closer. Next to me i heard the quiet concerned voice of an older Olvi, a reply from a softly spoken Gnomish Lass and the empathetic touch of a small warm palm rest on my forehead. It was as if that small feminine hand was releasing me from deaths grip. I must have drifted off again because next thing i knew i awoke, alone on the field not to long ago from now” So i made my way back to you.
As the young man's mother gathered her composer, Edmund stood to relieve himself of the heavy breastplate. He released the last strap and pulled the armor from his body, a pouch that had been tucked under it had fallen to the ground. Startled, the young man looked down at the brown hide pouch as his mother bent over to pick it up. She opens the pouch and starts to spill the many Platinum coins into the palm of her hand. “Oh my Edmund, where did you get this, it’s enough for us to leave this decaying town and make a new life for ourselves down south”.
Confused Edmund Looks at the multitude of coins now overflowing her palm and dropping onto the floor “I have no idea”
Just as the last of the coins flow from the pouch, a small parchment card falls out and flutters to the floor landing face up. Both Mother and Son bend closer to examine the card, The card is framed by tiny Bunnies and strawberries, As the mother picks the card up to read what is written, she see’s there are no words, nothing but a hand drawn smiley face.
ARMAGNA
Re: The payment of a bill
09/18/2018 01:16 PM CDT
Loma awoke in a cold sweat. She brushed her golden hair away from her face, and rubbed her head.
She became aware of her daughter's tiny voice. She sat up on her cot, and began to nurse her baby girl.
“Strange dream,” she thought, recalling images of Edmund in armor. He had been a hand on the local farms, of course, but he had also admired the Order which had defended their homes. She supposed it was not strange to have such fancies float through her mind in her sorrow. She probably felt a bit of resentment toward Tirost as well, but she had known him since he was a boy, moving south with his mother and sister. He was surely and sullen even back then, never playing with the others, and always clutching that ring he carried.
She sighed, and tears poured from her eyes, and her breath became chocked with sobs for her son, but whether gnomes or halflings showered her with money or not, she would never willingly leave Riverhaven. It was her home, and she was proud of her city, her culture and her people.
That evening, Loma made her way toward the Pierless Inn, having left her daughter sleeping with her grandmother, who had been kind enough to remain home, so that Loma could be there for her son's wake.
As she walked inside, the mournful Therengian hymns filled the air, as many of the townsfolk had gathered to celebrate the lives of those who fell in the recent orcish raids. She noticed Tirost at the far corner of the bar, nursing a mug of ale, sullen, exactly as she had remembered him from their youth.
The people of her community hugged her, drank, danced and wept with her. They told stories of her Edmund. She cried, and smiled, and cried some more. He was gone from this plane, but his memory lived on.
On her left, an aging halfling and a gnomish woman sat, enjoying drinks together. The halfling was handing her platinum coins from a rather large purse, which she was busy gluing to cards in the shape of smiling faces.
“Sad that the Order of the Dragon Shield has become so dumb,” said the halfling with a smirk.
“Indeed” said the gnome, glancing at the warrior mage at the end of the bar, and rolling her eyes. She held out her small feminine hand for more platinum coins.
“That one's the weakest of the lot, I've heard,” replied the aging halfling, handing the gnome several more platinum coins. “Maybe if he tried harder, we wouldn't have to listen to this racket.”
“How dare you!!” shrieked Loma interrupting them, her face flushing with fury.
“Relax, ma'am,” said the gnome sweetly. “Here,” she said, handing Loma card with some platinum coins in a smiley face.
“Now you can afford to leave this decaying town,” quipped the halfling.
Loma snatched the card and threw it back on the table. “Keep your money,” she hissed in a low voice. “This is my home, and these are my people.”
All became aware that the hymns had stopped. A tense silence ensued, and Loma turned from the two and made her way to the bar. She stood next to Tirost, and soon the Inn was again filled with many voices singing ancient Therengian songs.
The barkeep placed a mug of ale in front of Loma, and she took a long draught. She glanced over at Tirost, who seemed like he was doing his best to avoid her gaze.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
“My Edmund loved you, Tirost. Do you remember when you came to see us after Anjinson gave you that dreadful sword?”
Tirost turned to face her, and a sad smile passed across his lips. “Yes,” he said, “and you told me not to give it to Edmund.”
“And you did it anyway.”
“And I did it anyway.”
She laughed a little, to her own surprise. “And you remember he was so excited to show me, he ran to me and swung it through the air so hard he fell over, and the blade flew out his hands and gashed my ankle?”
Tirost smiled as well. He nodded, and fresh tears began to roll down his cheeks.
“You guys had to carry me to the empaths and he was crying because of all the blood.” Loma began to weep as well, but she was also laughing.
They sat there a while, listening to the mournful tunes of the men and women of Riverhaven. Both were thinking of Edmund.
She became aware of her daughter's tiny voice. She sat up on her cot, and began to nurse her baby girl.
“Strange dream,” she thought, recalling images of Edmund in armor. He had been a hand on the local farms, of course, but he had also admired the Order which had defended their homes. She supposed it was not strange to have such fancies float through her mind in her sorrow. She probably felt a bit of resentment toward Tirost as well, but she had known him since he was a boy, moving south with his mother and sister. He was surely and sullen even back then, never playing with the others, and always clutching that ring he carried.
She sighed, and tears poured from her eyes, and her breath became chocked with sobs for her son, but whether gnomes or halflings showered her with money or not, she would never willingly leave Riverhaven. It was her home, and she was proud of her city, her culture and her people.
That evening, Loma made her way toward the Pierless Inn, having left her daughter sleeping with her grandmother, who had been kind enough to remain home, so that Loma could be there for her son's wake.
As she walked inside, the mournful Therengian hymns filled the air, as many of the townsfolk had gathered to celebrate the lives of those who fell in the recent orcish raids. She noticed Tirost at the far corner of the bar, nursing a mug of ale, sullen, exactly as she had remembered him from their youth.
The people of her community hugged her, drank, danced and wept with her. They told stories of her Edmund. She cried, and smiled, and cried some more. He was gone from this plane, but his memory lived on.
On her left, an aging halfling and a gnomish woman sat, enjoying drinks together. The halfling was handing her platinum coins from a rather large purse, which she was busy gluing to cards in the shape of smiling faces.
“Sad that the Order of the Dragon Shield has become so dumb,” said the halfling with a smirk.
“Indeed” said the gnome, glancing at the warrior mage at the end of the bar, and rolling her eyes. She held out her small feminine hand for more platinum coins.
“That one's the weakest of the lot, I've heard,” replied the aging halfling, handing the gnome several more platinum coins. “Maybe if he tried harder, we wouldn't have to listen to this racket.”
“How dare you!!” shrieked Loma interrupting them, her face flushing with fury.
“Relax, ma'am,” said the gnome sweetly. “Here,” she said, handing Loma card with some platinum coins in a smiley face.
“Now you can afford to leave this decaying town,” quipped the halfling.
Loma snatched the card and threw it back on the table. “Keep your money,” she hissed in a low voice. “This is my home, and these are my people.”
All became aware that the hymns had stopped. A tense silence ensued, and Loma turned from the two and made her way to the bar. She stood next to Tirost, and soon the Inn was again filled with many voices singing ancient Therengian songs.
The barkeep placed a mug of ale in front of Loma, and she took a long draught. She glanced over at Tirost, who seemed like he was doing his best to avoid her gaze.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered.
“My Edmund loved you, Tirost. Do you remember when you came to see us after Anjinson gave you that dreadful sword?”
Tirost turned to face her, and a sad smile passed across his lips. “Yes,” he said, “and you told me not to give it to Edmund.”
“And you did it anyway.”
“And I did it anyway.”
She laughed a little, to her own surprise. “And you remember he was so excited to show me, he ran to me and swung it through the air so hard he fell over, and the blade flew out his hands and gashed my ankle?”
Tirost smiled as well. He nodded, and fresh tears began to roll down his cheeks.
“You guys had to carry me to the empaths and he was crying because of all the blood.” Loma began to weep as well, but she was also laughing.
They sat there a while, listening to the mournful tunes of the men and women of Riverhaven. Both were thinking of Edmund.
BOWWOWMEOW
Re: The payment of a bill
09/21/2018 01:29 PM CDT
The couple walked closely together down the street. The female gnome had a wide grin on her face as she stole glances over at the ruggedly handsome halfling who was gesticulating wildly, apparently in the middle of a story. As they reached the Pierless Inn, the halfling opened the door, and got to the best part of his story, which caused the gnome to laugh loudly as they entered. So absorbed in each other’s company were the two, that it took a beat for them to realize the subdued atmosphere in the area, plus the angry faces pointed their way. The halfling turned to a familiar face at his right and asked what was going on. The man replied, “They’re just mourning Edmund. He was struck down in the recent skirmish with the orcs. He could not be saved.” The gnome hung her head for a moment, then looked up, sadness etched onto her face. “I’m very sorry,” she said, just above a whisper.
Some of those gathered nodded and went back to their songs and stories honoring Edmund. A blonde woman at the end of the bar continued to glare at the two. The gnome avoided her gaze. The halfling glanced at the gnome with a raised eyebrow, and she could tell he was asking if she wanted to just leave. The woman leaned in and whispered, “I feel uncomfortable staying, but I also feel like leaving makes it look as though we’re guilty of something. I wouldn’t have come in laughing if I knew…” The halfling smiles at her, nods and takes her hand to lead her to a table in the corner where there was a bit of privacy.
The halfling asks her “We’ll just have a drink or so, and then leave, alright Marssi?” Marssi smiles at him gratefully and nods in agreement. The halfling goes over to the bar to get their drinks, and Marssi looks around at the crowd. Her eyes widen with surprise as she sees another couple consisting of a halfling man and a gnome woman. As Marssi watches, the other halfling man takes coins out of a bag and hands them to the woman who is gluing them to cards. As the other gnome holds up a card to admire her handiwork, Marssi gasps as she sees what is on the card. A smiley face! One that she and Rifkinn have been using to sign their own correspondence!
Eyes narrowed to slits, Marssi gets up from her chair and angrily prances over to the couple. She asks in a low tone, almost a growl, “What exactly are you doing?” The other gnome looks up in surprise. “We’re saving the people from Riverhaven!” The other gnome has a broad smile and crazy eyes. Marssi stares at her, and then at the halfling, and repeats, “What are you doing?” The halfling looks a little concerned, and the gnome’s smile weakens somewhat. “We’re going to give these cards with the platinum coins out to people to help them leave Riverhaven…” Marssi’s glare intensifies as she demands, “And you thought this was a good idea, why? And why are you putting the coins in the shape of a smiley face?” The couple look uncomfortable now as they look at each other. ‘I’m not really sure...I guess we heard about it from someone...and it sounded fun…” Marssi folds her arms across her chest and demands, “And how long have you been doing this?” The couple look at each other. “Well, we just kind of met and someone might have suggested it. You know, I don’t even know why!”
Marssi arches her eyebrow up as she asks, “You two don’t know each other, you meet, and some strange person suggests that you both glue coins in smiley faces on cards, and give them to the citizens of this town?” The couple now stare blankly at Marssi, shrug, and nod. Marssi inhales deeply, and hears a familiar voice in her ear. “Everything okay?” Marssi turns to see Rifkinn standing behind her, looking at her with concern. “Maybe. I think someone is trying to get people to believe that these two idiots are us.” Marssi motions toward the second couple, who are seemingly too stupid to be offended. Rifkinn glances at the two, and says, “You might want to get on out now.” Instinctively, Marssi glances over at Rifkinn and notices that he casually slipped his blade out as he talked to the two. She looks around the room, but no one else appeared to notice. Both halfling and gnome seem about to argue, but think better of it, and get up to leave. As they reach the door, they seem to disappear in different directions. Marssi turns back to Rifkinn, who already has his blade away.
Marssi shakes her head, and complains, “Why is there always such weirdness?” Rifkinn chuckles at her as they walk back to their table, “It keeps things interesting, anyhow,” and winks at Marssi. Marssi smiles back at him, and lets her hair fall forward to hide the blush on her cheeks. As they sit down at the table, Marssi takes her glass, and tries to sound casual as she mentions getting the door to the ODS house repaired. Rifkinn asks, “You know you didn’t have to do that. Why would you?” Marssi rolls her eyes. “It didn’t even cost hardly anything. I got some people to fix it, and I also left them a symbolic payment. Not the 10,000 plat they asked for, but 10 coppers. I don’t want to be in discussions about a dumb door for months.” Rifkinn nods in agreement. “That’s true. The door issue does seem to be a convenient distraction to cover up the issue of the necrolord scum being welcomed into the building.” Marssi exclaims, “Exactly! I just went to that meeting to see what’s been going on. They were the defenders of Riverhaven, the teachers of the young! They were proud Therengians! They were always a place I could count on, even when I wasn’t welcome myself. Things have changed, and I don’t know how they can justify it!”
Rifkinn finishes his lemonade, and sets the empty glass on the table. “I don’t know either, but I don’t intend on dropping the subject.” Marssi realizes that she hasn’t touched her wine, so she drains it in a few gulps. “Good. I don’t either. Should we just go? I don’t want to get too loud, and be seen as being disrespectful.” Chuckling, Rifkinn nods at Marssi, and the pair gets up and makes their way to the door. The blonde at the bar watches them, muttering to things to someone nearby that they can’t quite make out. Marssi pauses a moment, then just exhales, throws one end of her scarf over her shoulder, and seems to block out everyone else. She reaches out to hold Rifkinn’s hand, and prances out the door, head held up, and her nose in the air.
