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"'Highness'? No. Just 'Chief'. Thank you for introductions, Femi. Pleasure to meet all of you," Yatzil unwraps the jeweled dagger and turns it over in her hands, "We accept this gift. Gift of steel very welcome in Village of Tanaroa. It has helped keep us safe from cannibals for many moons. Do you know Rory Barbarosa? That look like his ship."
"Yes, yes - he's our captain. A better man is certainly hard to find and that is his ship." Femi smiles, happy to have some common ground.
While chatting, the chief waves the companions to follow her, "You can rest a while in village. We have guest huts. We like to swap tales, and trade for more steel. What is it you want?"
"For now, merely your welcome is enough, you are most gracious." Femi smiles, pleased that things are going well for a change, "Although, I don't suppose you have a map of the inland we could study? Perhaps a guide we could hire? I think we mean to go beyond your wall."
Femi looks to the others, hoping he's not headed into uncharted territory. He smiles at them as if to suggest things are going well, and they can relax. Be themselves, a little.
"Well..." Elon says as he watches Sea Legs lose his liquid lunch over the starboard railing. "I see that ale doesn't aid ye." he remarks before downing his mug and returning for seconds.
He tops off as he claps the man on the back as Femi brushes the visceral stomach matter from his face. "We'll land soon and ye can get back on dry land, Legs!" he says happily.
---
Elon stumbles out of the rowboat with Barley, leaping upright with his parrot cloak as soon as he gains his footing, scythe in hand.
He proudly presents himself next to Femi and whispers loudly. "Time to act like go-...
He sees everyone watching him and he remembers the conversation that the Captain drilled in us.
You are NOT gods!
"Time to... uhh... act like gift-givers!" he yells as he throws an animal from his bag towards a pair of people.
A riding dog bounces up from the sand. "Arf!" Elon tsks. I can't give 'em Barky! he bemoans internally.
"Go give em a gift after I just showed them my shrinking dog!" Elon yells in a grandiose manner. "It was an illusion!"
While chatting, the chief waves the companions to follow her, "You can rest a while in village. We have guest huts. We like to swap tales, and trade for more steel. What is it you want?"
Bazsil blinks at the 'queen'.
"Places to swap tales is good, but what about swapping spit? We have been on that ship for a long time. I could use the comforts of a friendly pair of hands," Bazsil asks, offering a quick glance down to the queen's hands.
"Bazsil, you be good! Quit taunting these poor folks. Chief, can I ask a simple question? I have heard that some people can make things happen with their minds... Yet I know some would prevent them from doing that sort of thing. What does you village here think about using magic? Just in case we might do something taboo, I would like to avoid it"
'What did I just say?
She makes sure to keep her hands in her pockets and doesn't look any she is making eye contact with anyone.
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Bazsil gives Aeslin a look, glancing at her, then down to her hands.
Woman! I want a friendly pair of hands to appreciate my body. Not your jealous meaty hamhooks mis-poking every crevasse!
"...I don't suppose you have a map of the inland we could study? Perhaps a guide we could hire? I think we mean to go beyond your wall."
Chief Yatzil appears a little apprehensive at the mention of going beyond the wall. "Very dangerous beyond wall. Not safe. We go for tar, but some not come back. Can tell you where tar pits are. Not have maps. Barbarosa ask of these before. We not explorers."
"Go give em a gift after I just showed them my shrinking dog!" Elon yells in a grandiose manner. "It was an illusion!"
One of the guards snaps around. "Illusion? You mean, like magic?!"
There is an awkward pause what seems like a long time.
"That trick great! Show me another!" he enthuses. Clearly the magical taboo is particular to Dawa. Not that Elon knew that when he whipped out a dog from a sack...
"Places to swap tales is good, but what about swapping spit? We have been on that ship for a long time. I could use the comforts of a friendly pair of hands," Bazsil asks, offering a quick glance down to the queen's hands.
"Swap... spit?" Chief Yatzil looks confused, "I not want spit. But if you want mine, okay." She hocks up quite a big ball of saliva and projects it at Bazsil in a manner that would make any sailor proud.
The glob hits Bazsil full on the forehead and the resulting spray even makes it to his prized black curls.
"...I have heard that some people can make things happen with their minds... Yet I know some would prevent them from doing that sort of thing. What does you village here think about using magic?..."
"Non hostile magic fine," the chief states, "We not Dawans. As you see with dog, some magic quite fun. Dawans have bad time with demons. Summoned by tribal magic user. Zombie Master save village. After, they ban all magic but magic of Zombie Master."
The group continues through the village. Many other villagers gather to watch the newcomers. As before, they ascend the steps of a shallow pyramid and a ring of villagers grouped by clan forms around them.
"So, tales first!" declares Chief Yatzil, "How you meet Barbarosa? How you come here? What adventures you have on way?"
"That is an interesting tale, Chief Yatzil," Aeslin says, pulling out her note paper. "So you say a magic user of the Dawan tribe summoned demons, and they were only saved by the zombie master? That sounds... suspicious. How powerful is their zombie master?"
Then, after getting her response, she responds to the chief. "That's an interesting question, Chief? How did I meet Barbarosa? Well, I guess after I caught a ship from Absalom to Magnimar... can't really remember why I did that, but Sebastian seemed to think it was a good idea that we leave the Arcanamirium for some reason at that time... I mean, how was I to know that particular shelf had rotted, and would collapse right at the time I was climbing up to grab the tome on Superstitions of the Inner Sea. And of course, when it fell onto the shelf next to it, that one collapsed, and fell into the shelf next to it... and so on. I mean, how was I to know, and why didn't they properly keep those shelves in good working order. I know it was in the restricted archives, and technically I wasn't supposed to be there, but I was working on my research paper, even though technically Master Feldergras hadn't assigned me one... though I knew he'd be impressed with mine if I went ahead and wrote one. I was only going to go for twenty pages, after all, this was only a midterm paper..."
Noticing that his charge was gaining steam on her babble, Sebastian takes a playful nip of Aeslin's posterior...
"Ah a queen. Well I for one have know Barbarosa for quite some time. Tight knit circle captains and boatmakers. Always vying for a leg up on one or another. Found he had better intentions than most, and let me be me. Been together ever since.
"How we came here is quite a tale, one better suited for my golden-tongued companions.
"As I stand on your beach, I thank you for your hospitality. I was wondering if there was someone that I could talk to about ... well this is a bit embarrassing, but I have put my faith in a god name Gozreh. I am unsure of what you all believe and I would like the chance to speak with someone to learn more. If you could introduce me, we'll I'd appreciate that.
"And cocks, I like to fight cocks. Any sport that you engage in around here with cocks?"
"Ouch! Oh, sorry..." she shrieks, rubbing her bottom.
"So, anyway... we had grabbed this ship... I can't recall what it was called... might have been something like the 'Throaty Mermaid or something odd like that. Never quite figured out what that meant. Oh, and the ship's cook was a beast of a dwarven woman... no offence Gratum, but she makes you seem sweet by comparison... and I've never seen such as dysfunctional crew. But I calmed the Captain down... Caine... Veane... something like that, and he actually gave me his cabin for the duration of the fifty day journey... he said as long as I stayed in the cabin and didn't come out to bother him again about the sea lanes and weather patterns and why did that mermaid at the prow of the ship have such a large pipe in her mouth that I could stay in there. So I did... it was so nice of him. They even brought food to me, though I did get sick from it more than once... or maybe it was just the sea voyage but I have never had that problem... OUCH!"
Sebastian again gives Aeslin a subtle warning that she should stay on track... something she was never really very good at doing.
"So, anyway, when I got to Magnimar, I was able to meet the lovely Venture-Captain Sheila Heidmarch, and stay at her place. I was only there a week or so before she suggested that I go check out this display in a lovely little museum of wild creatures from a far off land. That is where I met Captain Barbarossa, when he was assassinated by a murderer most foul who apparently was just killing him because he was supposed to and then Captain Barbarossa congratulated us for avenging his death so well. Then I impressed him with my knowledge of the items in the museum and my knowledge of the late god Aroden, so he hired me to come here. Evidently I came with wonderful credentials and references, because he didn't balk at hiring someone for an adventure who was a mere student of magic at the Arcanamirium, even though I had to get out of there quick Sebastian told me."
She finally catches her breathe...
"And cocks, I like to fight cocks. Any sport that you engage in around here with cocks?"
Seeing the state of Mtumbwi's lack of clothing, Aeslin hopes that he doesn't mean what she thinks he means, and is talking about more traditional fighting with roosters.
Bazsil closes his eyes as the sweet gooey mass heads to his face.
Sweet! She's into me!
Bazsil uses Lucy to wipe the spit off his forehead and bring it to his lips. He sniffs at it.
"Admittedly, I don't really understand this custom of yours, but..." Bazsil sups on the saliva. "I don't understand it, but if it is your custom, I will return the honor."
Bazsil, unless the 'queen' reacts badly, returns the favor with a gobby gob of his own.
touch to hit.
When/if she reacts well to that, Bazsil has some additional moves to put on her.
"...they were only saved by the zombie master? That sounds... suspicious. How powerful is their zombie master?"
"That is right," responds Chief Yatzil, lounging upon a step while some male servants bring up refreshments, including some of their own god-nectar - first for the chief, then the others, "He very powerful. Maybe more powerful than Zombie Mistress of Tanaroa, Xochimitl."
"Ah a queen..."
"Why you keep calling me 'queen'? Me just 'Chief'," Yatzil asserts once more.
"Any sport that you engage in around here with cocks?"
"Sex. But sex not sport," the chief looks perplexed, "And not topic to bring to chief... unless you need help with fertility?"
"Admittedly, I don't really understand this custom of yours, but..." Bazsil sups on the saliva. "I don't understand it, but if it is your custom, I will return the honor."
"Me not want your spit, strange man," scolds Chief Yatzil, "You asked to 'swap saliva'. Me not want yours, but you have as much of mine as you like." A well-muscled warrior grips his weapon tightly and steps up close to the chief. He makes it clear exactly what will happen should Bazsil decide to spit upon her.
Chief Yatzil listens intently to the stories of how these adventurers came to be in the company of Barbarosa. "Very interesting. Such places you talk of. Me not know half of what you talk about. Who is 'Gozreh'? What is 'Arcanarium'?" She is willing to talk, at length, about any strange tales that are brought to her.
"My apologies Queen Chief. Where we come from 'Queen' is a proud title.
"Cocks are chickens with dicks. At lease I think they do, never really checked before." Mtumbwi turns to Femi scratching his man parts, "Can you help me out here?"
"So where I come from, we pick big cocks, and put them in a circle. The cocks peck at one another until they are bloody and one cock beats the other cock. That is the winner. We wager money on which one will win. I'd be happy to show my cock to anyone in camp that was interested in seeing it in action.
"So Gozreh, where we come from. Well this might take a bit. Is there somewhere where we can talk and be comfortable? We have what we call 'gods' who give special powers to those that worship them. The one that I worship is called Gozreh. At times the god is a woman. At times the god is a man. Gozreh controls the water, and the wind, and storms. Is there something that you think controls all that? I would love to learn more about it, or to teach you more Gozreh."
Mtumbwi takes a breath, surprised for talking so long and not threating anybody. He looks expectantly at the chief, hoping he hasn't once again offended another one.
The others are doing so well, I hope I am not the one to mess this up.
"Well it could be a sport" Gado mumbles before he realizes he spoke out loud.
"Aahhh.. Stories! Yes. Maybe when you aren't so busy I can tell you about the time when I accidentally summoned a huge earth elemental in the library as an apprentice. Though in my defense, my professor told me the scroll had no power. The funny part was when it picked up his desk, and his wife saw his mistress hiding under there. Well, funny for me..."
"So, how exactly does the chief help with fertility?" Gado asks, then quickly shrinks back, realizing he may be stepping on Bazsil's turf.
He looks at the curly-haired man and shrugs his shoulders, "For academic purposes of course."
"Me not want your spit, strange man," scolds Chief Yatzil, "You asked to 'swap saliva'. Me not want yours, but you have as much of mine as you like."
Bazsil seems to take the queen's confusion over her own custom very well, considering.
"Well, in many languages, 'swap' means an exchange...trade one for another's, you see..." Bazsil is fully willing to manexplain the woman's own language to her, because chicks dig that. "Now, if you wanted to spit upon me per your custom, I am to assume that you wished some of mine or you would not have initiated the swap."
Bazsil smiles and flicks his dark oiled curls back.
"If we have a private moment, I can show another way to swap salivas...I think you'll like..." Bazsil offers in the promotion of exchanging cultural rituals.
"Chief, ignore please Bazsil. He what my people is call, 'amadán.' His ways not... sharp. Many others group leathcheann. Some iontaofa" Ciaran gives a halting attempt to speak the island tongue.
Giving up, he pokes Femi. "Ask her where the cannibals come from and how often. Specifically - if she says, 'over the sea' I'm going to be... annoyed with you." Ciaran glowers down at Femi. The sound of his teeth grinding has been audible all through Aeslin's story and Bazsil's attempts to seduce the Chief.
To Bazsil and Gratum, he says "These people could never build that wall. Compare the palisade here to that. What did that woman on Dawa say about gods walking the earth at the time of their ancestors?
"We could offer them some expertise to defend their village. I know Bazsil doesn't need any help with the ladies, but that might buy some of the rest of us some credit with them, if we're to gather supplies for going beyond the wall." He nudges Gado (quite hard). "If we had someone who was clever."
"It'd be good to find out some more about these demons summoned on Dawa too."
Elon looks indignant at his magical prowess being called by that wretched name. "It's an illusion, Chief. A trick is what a whore does for money..."
Barley moos uncomfortably at the silence.
"Or ale!" he yells cheerfully, as he produces three pony kegs for immediate consumption. "Only the finest mainland ale for our new friends!"
The dwarf, seeing that his presence is unneeded, same as the last native village they visited, moves on to find someone excited about beer or at least yaks.
He zeroes in on the guard that was enthused. "Haha! A man of discerning taste!" he yells in Native Speak as he claps the man on the shoulder. "Come! Let us share local cuisine, specifically meats, ales and potatoes!"
"Cocks are chickens with dicks. At lease I think they do, never really checked before."
Chief Yatzil laughs. "Ah. Yes. We not make animals fight. Animals fight anyway, but not for sport. We eat instead. Meat is good, yes?"
"So Gozreh, where we come from. Well this might take a bit. Is there somewhere where we can talk and be comfortable?"
"Yes, come to chief's hut," Yatzil leads the group away from the onlookers and into her hut. It is a massive, multi-roomed affair adorned with feathered totems and a crudely shaped golden statues. Despite the extravagance, however, there are few items of comfort. The benches for sitting on are made of hand-carved wood. The seats are irregular and not cushioned.
"We have what we call 'gods' who give special powers to those that worship them. The one that I worship is called Gozreh. At times the god is a woman. At times the god is a man. Gozreh controls the water, and the wind, and storms. Is there something that you think controls all that? I would love to learn more about it, or to teach you more Gozreh."
"Interesting," Yatzil looks perplexed, "How can god be woman and man? Either woman or man? What Gozreh show your ancestors? No god control winds. That not how gods work. Gods build wall and city beyond wall. Gods not control wind. Wind controls wind."
"So, how exactly does the chief help with fertility?"
Yatzil smiles broadly, and a touch condescendingly, "Chief approves all sacrifices. If need fertility sacrifice, need ask chief first." Gado notices for the first time the dried blood on the top step of the pyramid.
"If we have a private moment, I can show another way to swap salivas...I think you'll like..." Bazsil offers in the promotion of exchanging cultural rituals.
"Me already know what kissing is," the chief chuckles. Bazsil - as good as he is at reading people - gets the distinct feeling she always knew exactly what he had meant and spat on him for fun... and perhaps a little for punishment. Before he has time to process the implications, though, the chief leans in closer granting Bazsil an excellent view of her ample and only partially covered bosom and whispers, "But you can come back to chief's hut tonight anyway."
"... where the cannibals come from and how often..."
Femi translates for Ciarán. The chief tries to stifle her amusement at the bodyguard's earlier attempt at the Dread Tongue. "Cannibals come every two or three moons. But sometimes twice within same week. Never regular. Always surprise. We think they come from Island off south west coast of Isle of Dread."
Ciarán inspects the tar pits in the village. He realizes, perhaps with Elon's help, that these tar pits are artificially fed and kept warm by the fires and coals surrounding them. They have been filled from another source - likely the tar pits the chief was talking about.
"Only the finest mainland ale for our new friends!"
...
"Haha! A man of discerning taste!" he yells in Native Speak as he claps the man on the shoulder. "Come! Let us share local cuisine, specifically meats, ales and potatoes!"
"Potatoes?" asks the man, who Elon later learns is called 'Rahui', "Not know of such things. You have any 'mainland ale' for me to try?"
As he samples the local draught, Elon notes that this brew of god-nectar is made from pawpaw. The bitterness makes it a little more similar to the drinks back home, but there is still an exceptional excess of sweetness to it.
Once seated in the chief's comfortable tent he continues his conversation with the beautiful chief.
"Ah chief. You ask many intelligent questions, and are right to question what I have told you. My god does asks her/his followers to sacrifice, but we do not sacrifice other people. Mostly seabirds, flying fish,
and frogs. Is there a group of villagers that might share an interest in discussing the things that I have told you about my god? Do I have permission to set up in your market place, or by your pyramid so that I might talk with your people about these matters?
"I have this book Hymns to the Wind and the Waves. I am not much of a reader, but it explains a lot. I can have him" he thrusts a finger at Gado, "Or her" he thrusts his middle finger at Aeslin, "Make some copies, for you and others should you be interested.
"I am a master at building ships, and I have always built ships. In exchange for this favor I would like to also assist your shipbuilders. They can learn from me and I can learn from them. Does this sound agreeable?"
Whew, I didn't even curse there. Femi must be wearing off on me.
Femi smiles at all the headway being made and relaxes. He absolutely stands by and translates as needed. He adds nothing of his own though, satisfied that he's paved the way for the others to find their own connections with these people.
So nice to see such different peoples connect on such a human level.
He just stands slightly out of the way and smiles a giddy, happy smile.
Gods build wall and city beyond wall.
As soon as she has a chance, Aeslin grabs Gratum and pulls him over to the wall. She starts inspecting the wall closely, trying to determine the architectural style of the construction, sort of expecting it to be one of Azlanti origins.
"Gratum, what do you think of this wall? I'll try to figure out something of the historical significance, if you can comment on its construction!"
Gado looks longingly at the attractive native women, but the conversations around him have sparked an even deeper interest in his chest.
Wait, they said gods built the wall, didn't they?
"Chief Yatzil, I wish to know more about these gods who built the wall. Who in your tribe can share that knowledge with me?" His hands are nearly shaking as he asks.
He leans over to whisper to Bazsil his exciting hypothesis, and quickly realizes that he is embroiled in landing a prize catch. He scuttles over to Elon, but the dwarf is already gone making brew.
Eh, probably wouldn't care anyways.
He looks to Aeslin, caught up in a conversation with Gratum, and realizes they are to busy to listen right now. Besides, Aeslin never listens anyways. Plus three of the ideas he wanted to debate with her about, she stole as her own, despite the constant nipping of Sebastian.
Mtumbwi, he appeared none to concerned about the gods the natives spoke of, more about teaching them about his fickle god.
Femi seemed to be busy making sure that everything continued to go well, and didn't seem all that interested either.
That left Ciaran.
To Bazsil and Gratum, he says "These people could never build that wall. Compare the palisade here to that. What did that woman on Dawa say about gods walking the earth at the time of their ancestors?"We could offer them some expertise to defend their village. I know Bazsil doesn't need any help with the ladies, but that might buy some of the rest of us some credit with them, if we're to gather supplies for going beyond the wall." He nudges Gado (quite hard). "If we had someone who was clever."
"It'd be good to find out some more about these demons summoned on Dawa too."
Gado nearly folds over at the nudge, taking a step back to keep his balance. "Yes yes! You are already thinking the same as me! Great minds right?!?" Gado raises his eyebrows, pointing first to his forehead then to Ciaran, then back to his.
"Who are the gods? Where did they go? Where did all the materials come from for the wall? What if we can teach them to build like the gods!!" His excitement nearly boils over as he grabs Ciaran's shoulder and shakes it vigorously.
Which is to say his entire body shakes from the effort, and Ciaran barely notices.
"Me already know what kissing...
Bazsil's jaw drops, which are followed by his eyes dropping to the queen's boobage, then he slowly offers a weak smile.
"Of course. Yes. As I expected," Bazsil stammers.
Bazsil seems VERY erect in his posture. For absolutely no reason at all, he moves Lucy to directly in front of himself. For no reason at all.
Bazsil will keep quiet for a bit, not wanting to ruin anything...and certainly not wanting to call attention to himself or any part of himself.
Elon eyes widen. "You've never had potatoes!?" he asks incredulously. "Potatoes are the greatest food in the world. You can boil them. Mash them. Stick them in a stew..." he prattles on about the tubers as Rahui leads him to their store of god-nectar.
"Brilliant blend, but have ye thought about fixing the recipe?" Elon asks Rahui. "The sweetness is overpowering and ye need a bit of complexity to it or ye lose yer teeth like the lass at Dawa." Elon mentions.
"Aye, if I had a bundle of taters, I could whip up some vodka in a still and we could use this fer a party! Paw Paw Goose is what I'd call it. After me old man, Greying Goose Steelkeg."
The yak looks around as his best friend meanders off with that look in his eye. "Mooo..." he thinks out loud.
The frail one rushes over to share something with best friend, but best friend is gone, so Barley moos at him. "Mooooooooo!" and decides to follow the frail one.
Whats ... Taters, precious?
The thought springs into Gado's mind unbidden.
That was weird. Where did that come from?
"Oh hey Barley. Glad you could join in this discussion. What do you think? Where do you think the stone came from to build such a wall?"
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That left Ciaran.
As Barley moos again, Ciaran surreptitiously scratches him behind the ears when no one is looking.
"It looks to me like the wall is made out of blocks," he says to Gado and Gratum. "Which means there are two places it could have come from originally: magic or mundane. Either it's been quarried from somewhere on the island or it's been conjured by magic. If it's conjured my magic, I believe you can tell how powerful the wizard by how much stone is conjured in each block. If it was quarried naturally, it could have been transported and built by magic, or by labour."
He looks around, and finds a woman watching curiously nearby (reasoning that, given the matriarchal society, women are most likely to know the histories and stories of this place - but not wanting to bother the Chief while she's busy considering Bazsil's virginity).
"Madam, could you help us please? We wish to know more about your history and the gods who made the wall. My name is Ciaran; this is Gratum, our engineer; and this is Gado Folklo, a wise and powerful arcanist who is our guide, mentor and protector. And this is Barley, who is a yak."
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"I am Ixchel. Pleased to meet you all, visitors from beyond the sea."
"Gado is a mighty warrior of the mind, and would like to know how many generations ago the gods built the wall, and whether they did it through magic or through teams of your ancestors."
Ixchel raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at this description of Gado, but then blanches at the mention of the wall.
"Please, stranger, we do not talk of the land beyond the wall."
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“As I was telling his third wife - Gado is a loremaster of great renown and high demand, and has many satisfied wives because of his deep understanding of many fields of learning - Gado is insatiable and highly skilled in his pursuit of knowledge."
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Ixchel's other eyebrow rises to meet the first. She looks the meek and blushing man up and down, appraising his spindly limbs, disheveled clothes, and narrow chest.
"Really? He seems so..."
She shakes her head.
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"His is a mighty, hidden strength. And also surprising dexterity and stamina. He is also brave, having dived from our boat into terrible storm-wracked seas to save another man from drowning, and is therefore not afraid to talk about the wall and the things beyond it. So great a provider and protector is he."
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Ixchel looks at Gado again.
"You are... not afraid of...?" she waves a hand towards the jungle and the wall.
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"Have I not told you repeatedly how brave and resourceful and clever he is? Yes, those impressed by the muscles and mind of an ox" (he ignores a plaintive moo from Barley) "might choose differently" Ciaran waves a hand vaguely towards Bazsil. "But a truly wise woman knows that there are greater strengths, because all muscles tire eventually, but minds become sharper, and courage never dims.
"His small size makes his children stealthy hunters with nimble and skilled hands."
Ixchel continues to look at Gado.
"He also has a great sense of humour."
As Ciaran failed to introduce here, Aeslin stands glaring at him, toe rapidly tapping on the ground. She looks at Gado, who appears to be trying to hide behind a blade of grass he is so embarrassed, and the woman, Ixchel. She rolls her eyes as Ciaran continues to exaggerate Gado's virtues. "Sure, Ixchel, the lands beyond the wall cannot be as bad as all that?"
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"His small size makes his children stealthy hunters with nimble and skilled hands."
Bazsil smiles as Ciaran speaks to his future baby mother. He smiles again as Ciaran extols the virtues of Gado. Bazsil even agrees, then rubs some sweat off his meaty, strong chest. He shakes his dark, oiled curls, using his well-toned and muscled arms to move Lucy about. It is clear that Bazsil knows how to handle Lucy, how to make her sing and purr and moan, screaming in combat.
Baszil smugly smiles at the 'queen'.
Barley enjoys the pets given to him by the 'mean' one though Barley doesn't understand best friend's reticence especially in light of the fingernails grazing the spot just behind his ears. "Moooooo...."