"Indeed! Perhaps we can ask him about the natives of the area through which the wagon will be heading. It's only a half-mile, but why don't we get some food for a picnic? I've eaten travelling food a bit too frequently recently."
"Belinda: might you have supplies for a picnic? That talk of cherries has me intrigued. " Valind puts fifteen dollars on the counter "Some fruits, ham, a loaf of bread, some mixed cheeses, that sort of thing..." he hesitates and puts another ten dollars on the counter "and perhaps some passable wines?"
I'm also presuming this is more than enough food for a two person picnic; please tell me if I am wrong!
Thikka pauses as yet another human gawks at her. She looks up at Portia as the woman blocks her path and openly gawks. "Sorry, but you're not my type. Why don't you try the Halfling if you like short partners? He looks like he's ready to try to climb you for a good time." She tells the tall human, then waves her paw several times in a shooing motion, to get the gawking human to step aside to let her out of the store.
Good afternoon, Derrick,she says with a smile, and then stretches her back. I’m glad you and your friends made it back safe and sound, eh.
She smiles again, a big warm smile, and then looks all around. When she is satisfied she hasn’t seen or seen whatever it is she was looking for (you can’t possibly know) she grabs you by the arm and quickly pulls you over against the wall of a small house.
Look, I can only be away for a moment. Something troubling is up. Finchley has told everyone that he will hire mercenaries to escort the wagon going to Mystic Valley. I had a friend in the group that disappeared, and several of us volunteered to go looking for the lost soldiers, but he won’t let us go. He knows something, something he’s not telling us. Be careful.
When she finishes telling you this warning, she laughs, and shies away from you as if she is trying to send a message to anyone watching that you and she were engaged in more flirtatious conversation.
Then she says loudly as she walks away from Derrick
It’s a date, Derrick Tramsen. I’ll see you when you return and we’ll share a drink in the Shady Dragon.
Derrick doesn't understand what's happening at first, although he quickly responds in the same quiet tones. "I know, I just met two of them. I'll keep an eye out, for myself and for your friend." He smiles back at her, hoping it's a reassuring look.
As she pulls away, he steps out and absently adjusts his katana in his belt. He looks after her, a little confused, but knows he should still play a part. "I'll hold you to that, Lady Hana, and I look forward to it." He smiles and walks away, wondering what to make of this event.
So..sor..sorry. I did..didn't mean to be rude, just intrigued is all. Hope you have a good day, as she steps aside to let her by. Once beyond her, Portia speaks up, My name is Portia, she says with a smile, in an attempt to ease the tension.
Valind glares at the old Rat Woman, his jaw dropping open.
he announces in a surprisingly loud voice "Am a priest of Valindor. Portia and I are friends. I know rats are famous for their preoccupation with reproduction, but I hadn't realised it applied also to their anthropomorphic personifications!"
Thikka pauses, and turns. "Valindor? Never heard of him. Is he one of those 'celibate' gods who's afraid of women? Or is he one of those into little boys?" She waves off the answer. "Not important. Just don't let me catch you chasing little boys, I usually remove the reason for chasing." She taps the rather sharp knife on her wrist sheath. "Can't stand people that can't wait for kids to turn into at least young adults. Can't stand gods into it either. Can't stand most gods to be honest, they usually lie all the time." She continues on, waving a hand at the ceiling in general, before waving one at the ground. "Sky gods, earth gods, love gods, hate gods, human gods, halfling gods, all they do is lie. As to rats breeding to much, you cut your life span down to 30 years, halfling, and we'll see if you're in a hurry to make sure there's another generation or not." She spits on the floor. "Priest, shoulda known. Plague on them all. Always getting up on high horses, even those short enough to walk under the horse." She then continues on toward the door, muttering under her breath about snotty priests. She pauses at the door. "And my name is Thikka." She says to Portia, before heading out to look for the blacksmith.
Finchley smiles, a big friendly smile.
Addressing the two men
Well, that’s excellent, but let me be clear about a few things. I’ve already made arrangements for a small group of people to act as guards for the delivery of the wagon. There are two people here who are going to be going along with the wagon, a young couple, both Elves, who hope to homestead in Mystic Valley. Their names are Kokole’ah’no'hiko and Wiani’ni, O’noana. Neither of these two have any experience with wagons, or livestock for that matter. The wagon will be pulled by a bull, a strong but docile animal that was purchased by Franklin Johansen, a Halfling that lives in Mystic valley. The Johansen family has also purchased two milking cows, and they will be included in the delivery.
Finchly paces a bit to the side, with his hands folded behind his back while he goes on to explain
So, I need to hire three or four people willing to take responsibility for the wagon, the bull, and the milking cows. This is a big responsibility, and therefore the payment is considerable, but in order for the contract to be fulfilled I expect a receipt, signed by the Johansen family, and the elves, once all these things are safely delivered to Mystic Valley. When that receipt is returned to me, here at the fort, in a timely manner, I will pay two hundred dollars to each person who’s signature is initialed by the customers. So if you are looking for work as escorts, I don’t need you. If you can drive a wagon, and can take care of a bull and a couple of cows for a few days, and are willing to take a contractual obligation and fiscal responsibility for the supplies, and the people travelling to Mystic Valley, I’ll hire you.
"I am not a skilled drover, but I have some skill with animals, and the trail. I am willing to take responsibility for their safety and the sundry tasks of travel logistics, but I would need to understand the fiscal responsibility required before agreeing, given that I do not know the contents of the wagon, nor the risks that may be encountered."
Animals are not my strongpoint, but I will go along with Unbolath if he agrees. Not a good idea to go alone, I don't think.
Valind looks quizzically at Portia
"An actual Atheist! I've heard of them, of course... Those who set themselves against every god. Fascinating. They tend to be a short-lived... ah yes, of course, the whole 30 year thing."
"And thus we see how much intelligence priests have. An atheist doesn't believe in gods. An agnostic believes there may be a god, or gods, but doesn't know for sure, and doesn't believe religious institutions know what they are talking about. I know there are gods, I just don't particularly like them. They usually cause more trouble than they are worth." She spits on the floor.
"Oh, you're still here? I had simplified, that is true. Sounds like in that case you are actually the rarest type of heretic: the universal Maltheist. Maltheism: believing gods are unworthy of worship. How have you resolved the heretic circle: that hating the gods leaves to insulting the gods leads to being cursed leads to hating the gods?"
Thikka snorts. "Any god petty enough to bother cursing someone for not liking them would find their eternal life wasted doing nothing but running around cursing people. There is no circle. And I'm not a heretic. To be a heretic, one has to profess belief in a religion, and then violate the tenants of that religion. Since I give your religion no validity, and do not believe in it or profess to do so, I am not a heretic. I am an unbeliever." The ratfolk shakes her head. "If priests would be more careful with their words, and the meaning thereof, you might find less schisms. Churches having wars with each other because some idiot prophet wasn't precise with his words. One group going to holy war over whether the holy miters should be red, or blue, and in reality the god wanted green ones." She shakes her head.
"You believe; therefore you are not an unbeliever. Instead you disparage all the gods. Further, you encourage others to abandon the gods as well. How are you not a heretic?"
"Still, I can share your disparagement of imprecise prophets."
Thikka shakes her head. "I believe there are gods. I do not believe in the worship of them. A heretic is someone who professes to believe in the religion of a god, yet subverts that gods dogma. I do not believe in your dogma. I am an unbeliever of your dogma. These are simple concepts, priest. Let me give you an example that might be easier for you to follow. There are those who eat their own kind, this is called cannibalism. I know that this exists. I know that people believe that it is a good thing. I do not believe that cannibalism is something that should be encouraged. I am not a heretic cannibal because I do not practice cannibalism or espouse it or believe in it. I acknowledge it exists, but I do not believe in it."
Turning left out of the tailor's , Edgin heads down the street towards the Gate.
Minerva smiled, but restrained herself to a restrained 'relaxed' walk behind her target, only a little quicker than the old man.
Closer...
She hardly dared to breath, but forced a nice even in-out rate, to maintain the illusion.
Then she increased her pace.
Closer..
She made sure to maintain her gaze ahead, and only came as close as she dared.
Close enough now...
She was withing reach of several likely looking belt pouches.
without hesitation Minerva walked up and behind the elderly gent as if to pass him in the street, one hand going in for the pick, the other gently moving him aside (and by chance distracting him, and covering her other hand from view)
"Excuse me sir" She gave him a little smile but quickly turned away so as not to show her horns.
If all went well, she'd simply pass him, illicit gains hidden infront of her.
"It is not hating the gods that leads to cursing, but insulting them. You would be surprised how few people - or surviving people - do that."
"It seems we disagree on definitions, but I understand what you are trying to say. Short of moving to a more precise language I believe this discussion is concluded."
Thikka nods. "Have a good day then, Priest." She nods at the priest, and his female companion, before leaving and looking for the blacksmith.
Major Finchley smiles and says, ”Good, good, excellent. I’ll have a proper contract completed today and ready for you to review and sign this evening. Shall we say, sunset, here. I have promised the young elves that the wagon will leave tomorrow. You understand that in order for me to offer such a large payment for the work to be done that I must ask you to take some responsibility for the shipment. I wouldn’t expect you to assume full responsibility, the goods are insured, to a fashion, but and let’s all hope nothing terrible happens, but if you should find yourselves back here after losing the supplies, I’ll expect a ten percent fee of the value of the goods from both of you. That works out to five hundred dollars each.”
Thikka enters the blacksmiths, looking for a nice heat hardened quarterstaff. Once she has one (or is told the smith doesn't have any), she will go track down the person she had looking for work to confirm they'd gotten her hired on to some caravan, as the elf woman indicated.
If that is true, she'll report to the caravan when it's getting ready to leave.
"Major I will agree to the terms, but I will attach some conditions to the fiscal responsibility. If due to negligence or mismanagement, the wagon does not arrive or due to other avoidable perils of the trail, I can see where replacement would be due. I will however not pay for the wagon if a dragon swoops from sky and carries the cattle and wagon off in their entirety, or if the earth opens and swallows the caravan. Simply, against a force of overwhelming odds or a large natural catastrophe or other unavoidable circumstance, I will not hold myself responsible. For reasonable dangers, such as small bands of humanoids or bandits, wild animals, simple environmental hazards, or other minor perils I am equipped to handle and take responsibility. If greater hazards are expected, I am simply not trained to undertake, and you will probably find yourself in need of hiring more expensive talent. If these terms are amenable, I am prepared to sign."
Unbolath bows to the Major and stands at ready.
Minerva couldn't help but quirk her mouth, feet still slowly taking her along the road. Strange symbols meant magic, and magic was never a good thing to mess with..
She almost turned around, to return the pouch before it got too late. But then she just kept on walking, slipping the pouch of coin into one of many hidden pockets, the rod staying out in her hand for examination.
Without looking up, but keeping an eye on the crowd in her peripherals, Minerva continues straight along the street, turning the rod in her hands as she heads for the alchemist's shop she spotted on arrival.
"What an interesting pinch you were, little rod. Maybe there's someone about who'll know what you are.." She spoke to herself (a little loudly)
Thikka walks along the street, heading for the sound of metal on metal, and stops as she does, to look in the alchemy shop window. She scratches her chin. I wonder if vermin repellent works on halflings? The ratfolk gives a short high pitched laugh at the thought.
Turning the corner Minerva slid the rod into a side pocket of her outfit as the Alchemist's shop came into view.
She almost stepped inside when a robed figure, about the height of her hip, caught her eye. She couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow, but didn't stare as most might at the appearance of the ratlike humanoid; Minerva didn't like being examined herself, and staring got you stared at.
Adjusting her hood for better shading, the tiefling silently stepped to stand near the creature, clearing her throat for attention.
"Excuse me." Minerva began, but paused a moment, unsure what to call the thing until she settled on "Dear... You wouldn't happen to be the alchemist? I need something odd Identified" She slipped the rod out and held it to the light.
Thikka looks up at the tiefling and turns her head to examine her in detail with one eye.
"Oh, tiefling. Indeterminate breed." She finally says, then snatches the rod out of Minerva's hand and holds it up in the light, turning it. "Hmm, let me see. Heavy. Rune."
She waves her other paw and mumbles in a screechy language.
"Hmm, Pinky? What do you think?" She mutters, and a small white rat with bright red eyes and a pink tail chitters and peeps out of her cowl, running down her arm to sniff the rod of metal. "Haven't seen a human tiefling before." She comments distractedly. "What breed are you? Devil? Succubus? Mutt?"
I concur with Unbolath...there are a lot of factors that are beyond our control...
Derrick continues to walk around the fort, without any destination in mind. He sees the people going about their lives and touches the grip of his sword. It's good, what I'm doing here. Keeping people safe. Honing my blade.
He rounds a corner and sees a pair of hooded figures, one tall, the other short. Frowning, he pauses, resting his left hand on the end of his katana's hilt. That's... strange. He cocks his head to one side and peers at the pair, wondering what they're doing, but not authorized to actually investigate.
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Upon returning to the cabin Sithundan quickly finds a quite corner to sit in and he starts to meditate and regain himself after their hard battles in the caves. He becomes so engrossed in his meditation that he doesn't even notice when the soldier come to beckon the adventurers to meet with the major and only is aroused when Poria and Valind return after their shopping.
Thikka looks up at the tiefling and turns her head to examine her in detail with one eye.
"Oh, tiefling. Indeterminate breed." She finally says, then snatches the rod out of Minerva's hand and holds it up in the light, turning it. "Hmm, let me see. Heavy. Rune.""Hmm, Pinky? What do you think?" She mutters, and a small white rat with bright red eyes and a pink tail chitters and peeps out of her cowl, running down her arm to sniff the rod of metal. "Haven't seen a human tiefling before." She comments distractedly. "What breed are you? Devil? Succubus? Mutt?"
Minerva couldn't help but flinch, and considered running, her stance slipping into something a bit more defensive.
She held it a moment or two before simply sighing, she could see the sharp gleam in the rat-witch's eye that told her there's no point arguing. Instead the tiefling knelt to the rat-folk's level and made placating motions
"shhh.. Please don't say that too loud." the rogue couldn't help but glance up and down the street..
[smaller]Derrick continues to walk around the fort, without any destination in mind. He sees the people going about their lives and touches the grip of his sword. It's good, what I'm doing here. Keeping people safe. Honing my blade.
He rounds a corner and sees a pair of hooded figures, one tall, the other short. Frowning, he pauses, resting his left hand on the end of his katana's hilt. That's... strange. He cocks his head to one side and peers at the pair, wondering what they're doing, but not authorized to actually investigate.
..before covering her horns a little better, trying to keep the prying eyes of the armoured man off her.
"I don't want to move towns again so soon, and I'll get run out if they think I'm fiend-blooded." She spoke nervously, biting a lip with her fang-sharp canine before continuing "if you're truly curious, I don't know which 'breed' is responsible for my taint. My family's history mentions something named a 'Cornugon', but I know not what manner of thing that is.."
Thikka looks up at the tiefling, momentarily distracted. "Why not? Nothing wrong with it. You are what you are. Human, ratfolk, even halfling, poor misbegotten lot they are." She snorts in amusement. "Never be ashamed of what you are, girl. You're letting others decide your worth if you do." The ratfolk says firmly. "Just curious, don't get a lot of tieflings where I come from, not a lot of humans. Met a kobold tiefling once, he was a real pain in the tail. Kept stepping on people's tails. Cracked his shin with a stick I did, he didn't step on my tail again." She laughs a short sharp high laugh. "As to people running you out of town, you just stand up and look 'em in the eye. They give you problems, you let Thikka know. Hate people who judge by someone's appearance. Spirits know I could make a lot of judgements if I were inclined, all these naked hairless apes running around without proper tails. If I'm good enough to overlook their obviously spirit cursed hairlessness, most of 'em look like they've got the mange, and if that don't make your skin crawl you've never seen a bad mange plague." The little ratfolk says with feeling. "Anyway, if I can forgive all these sots for being forsaken cursed mangy apes, they can darn well forgive you for being devil spawn out of gratitude." She says with a nod and a spit on the ground. "Nasty things those are though. For your own edification, Cornugans are big winged and horned devils with nasty spikes and blood coated chains. Not something you want to run into in a dark alley... or in a town square at high noon either for that matter, hah!"
Minerva sniffs, just the tinest bit, eyes studying for any form of deception, any trick.
Finding none, the Tiefling shivers.
you have no.. idea.. how much that means to me." she says, honestly, while slowly standing up to her full height.
With a tiny shake of nerves, Minerva slides her hood down, revealing her ruddy red skin, the scales clustered near the base of her curling ram's horns, and her glinting red streaked eyes.
She kept her hands on the hood, tensed to pull it back up at the first sign of trouble.
Her tail was kept coiled around her waist under the cloak. Baby steps.
Thikka looks up, and humphs. "Yeah, Cornugan makes sense. Anyway, let me get back to figuring this thing out."
Derrick continues to watch the pair, and takes a step forward when the taller hooded figure glances his way and adjusts the covering. Strange. He takes another step and pauses again when he notices a flash of metal between the two--Is that?--and then the hooded figure drops her cowl to reveal red skin and horns. Hmm.
Giving in to his curiosity--and gut instinct of some fear--the samurai approaches the pair. "Well met," he offers, bowing to each in turn. "How do you fare this day? I couldn't help but notice I didn't meet you the other day when I arrived. I'm Derrick Tramsen." He bows again to each of the others, his tone respectful and courteous.
Thikka's rat sniffs the bar, turns up it's nose, and climbs back into her robes. Tikka bites it exerimentally, then hands it back to the tiefling. "It's not magical, and I don't recognize the rune. It's probably just a bar of lead or something. Maybe it's a signet stamp, or possibly a badge or identity marker of some kind. Back home, one of my brothers was a member of a club that had an amulet you had to show to get in. Said it was a super secret thing where they talked over big ideas and decided important decisions." She snorts. "They drank ale, ogled dancing girls, and generally did everything they could to avoid work."
Still smarting from the Ratwoman's accusations of impropriety Valind will mention to Sithundan where they are going, and invite him along.
Once they get outside he summons an incorporeal force disk to float alongside him, loads all his gear (including his hot coat) onto it and invites the others to do the same.
Then he strolls off at his base 40ft movement.
The ratfolk looks up at the human male when he walks up and introduces himself. "Hmph, I'm Thikka. The girl here is Nameless." She hikes a clawed thumb at Minerva. "Mainly 'cause she hasn't given her name. Then again, I didn't give her mine either. But since she came up to me, I figured it was polite to wait until she introduced herself. Maybe that wasn't right, still figuring out human customs. Ya'll have way too many customs. Lot simpler where I come from. You introduce yourself, or you're either insulting someone or you're making the statement that you're so important that you don't need introductions and they are supposed to know who you are. That's a two edged sword, if you are that important, and they don't know you, they lose respect. If you aren't, you lose more. Of course, that also assumes you're in at least within a stone's throw of each other socially. If not, it's just an insult. See, much simpler." The ratfolk nods, her whiskers flashing forward to emphasize the nod. "Around here I never know if I'm supposed to bow in return, shake their paw, slap their face, spit on them, kick them between the legs, kiss their cheek, whack their shin with a rod, or ignore them."
Minerva took a half step back, silent as the ratfolk 'Thikka' rambled on. She was again on the defensive, the rod slipped back into her pockets and hood flipped up to cover her horns again.
My name is Minerva... I'm not important. Her eyes flicked up and over 'Derrick', taking in the curves and gleam of his armour and sword.
She wouldn't mind painting him. She knew a client that'd pay for a heroic warrior's portrait.
She couldn't help but slide a hand gently over the hilt of her holstered short-sword.
Thikka whacks Minerva in the midsection with the back of her hand. "Stop that, I told you, quit letting others determine your worth. Stupid thing to do. If he gives you grief for the horns, give him grief for being a mangy ape." She says with some asperity.
Derrick shakes his head helplessly as the ratfolk rambles on, occasionally trying to put a word in. "There are-- That is-- I mean--" He gives up, waits until she finishes, and then until Minerva introduces herself and the ratfolk does the same. Finally, he bows again.
"Good to meet you, Thikka, Lady Minerva." Unsure of the ratfolk's gender, he just skips past it. "As for customs, I'm sure we have plenty, and I'm sure I follow some more than most. The bow is just something I've been taught to do, you don't have to do anything in return.
"And we're all important, in our way, I suppose." He gives a small smile to Minerva. "And I don't know why you should get grief for horns. There's strange folk all around." Here he glances at Thikka for just a moment. "It's what you do and who you are that counts, right?"
Minerva grunted at the whack to her stomach, glaring just a little before conceding, the hood flipping down to show off her horns again. "Sorry Thikka. I've been run out of a few small minded towns before..."
Hesitantly, she uncurled her long muscular tail and let it flick behind her, the three fingered pseudo-claw at the end twitching occasionally
"...They think the worst of me for my deformities and tainted blood"Minerva smiled just a bit despite her nerves "I find it best, most times, to be careful and hide at first. Not all are as friendly as you two."
Thikka snorts, and whacks Minerva on the stomach again. "Who said I'm friendly. I just can't stand stupidity when I see or hear it, and I point it out." The rat says, apparently annoyed at being considered 'friendly'.