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Dear Mr Curly,
I have done little travelling lately because I have been so dreadfully weary. Can it be true as the old Ecclesiastes said; that all things lead to weariness? Surely not. Perhaps the opposite is true: that all nothings lead to weariness. I have a peculiar feeling, Curly, that I am worn out from something I haven't yet done and the more I don't do it, the more exhausted I become. How strange. Could it be something I haven't realised? Perhaps it's something I haven't said? Something I haven't finished! It must be very large and true whatever it is and a lively struggle in the doing but I look forward to it immensely. I know I need it. First, however, I must curl up in my chair and sleep deeply with the duck. Perhaps I'll dream of this thing and wake up refreshed and do it. My fond wishes to you Mr. Curly, and to all Curly Flat.
Yours sleepily,
Vasco Pyjama
xxx
P.S. Not having breakfast can make you weary. That's for sure!
Michael Leunig. The Curly Pyjama Letters.

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Okay, tell me what you think of this. If Hiraga and Gaon Latze's players want to give their input too, please do. I've played off them a bit more than other characters: Name: Shoshar, the Water Dragon Age: Ancient Appearance:
Nature: God
Connections:
Jerrick's arms, legs, and head were shivering. He was struggling to breathe, his eyes started to glaze over, and more black liquid was coughed out of his mouth. When Meesei laid him out, his pallor and black veins had spread across his entire body. Meesei's magic was keeping him alive, but barely. He was at least able to make out what Meesei asked, to which he shook his head in wide sweeps, clearly struggling. "No...no-...-thing..." Jerrick managed to say. There was nothing on Vera's lips, no poison delivered in her kiss that Jerrick could perceive. He frantically swallowed more of the black liquid back down so he had an opportunity to speak one last time. "In...the...waterskin..." A shaking hand pointed at the leather waterskin on the table. He had been carrying it around virtually all day. "...My...only...drink..." Jerrick managed to explain. Another set of coughs and splutters sounded as more black liquid emerged. Meesei, being entwined with his being via restoration magic, could percieve his heart struggling to fuel itself with fresh blood. "Say...sorry...to Ver-...Ver-..." More black fluid interrupted Jerrick's speech and the shaking slowed to a stop. His heart was not far behind and soon he was uncannily still. Slowly, his soul faded, no doubt towards Hircine's hunting grounds. In response to Lorag's clarifications, Harriet rolled her eyes and nodded impatiently. She was about to shut him up, but it seemed like he had gotten the message after all. "That's more like it," Harriet said with her own grin. As her hands wandered and they started to find a place out of the way, she thought on whether he would live up to his boast in the same way as he had earlier that day. She had no doubt that it would be an enjoyable evening, regardless.
Jerrick raised an eyebrow at the different floating pieces of food hovering up towards the ceiling and back down again with bites taken out of them. He wasn't quite sure why the cutlery was going up and back down either. He didn't say a word, though. He trusted Meesei enough to understand that her actions had purpose. Meesei herself would have no reaction to the food in terms of stopping poison. There didn't appear to be any trace on the food. Still, Jerrick was adamant on leaving the food alone for the night. It wasn't the first time he had ever gone hungry for a day. Hours passed further and Jerrick began to pale almost imperceptibly. Occasionally, he would cough quietly through his nose. Over about five minutes, the coughing slowly became more frequent and violent, until he finally coughed hard out of his mouth into his hand. When he inspected his palm to see what he assumed to be phlegm, he instead saw a pool of a thick black liquid. He started to shiver and looked slowly up to Meesei with a face laced with fear. Rivulets of the same black substance dribbled from his lips and it looked as if the veins in his face were darkening with it as well, painting gruesome black lines across his now milk-white skin. He opened his mouth to talk, but only more liquid dribbled out. He still mouthed 'help'. Harriet angled her head forward and looked up at Lorag with almost a glare. "What? Are you thick? I'll tell you what. You're the only tough orc to come by in the past eight or so years and I like you. So, do you want to lay or don't you?" Harriet's head turned slightly sideways with a new thought, though she didn't seem to want to let go anyway, "Wait, you aren't paired with the champion are you?"
*Glances around* Okay. Yeah. I got lost a page and a half ago. e.e I'm having trouble keeping up, due to erratic logschedule and other such things. So before I get in too deep to do so, I think I might be pulling out. ;~; Looked like it would be fun, but I can't keep up. Sorry, all. *Points up a post* Can give Mutton my space if you like.
I would be willing to take this up, but I'll wait for GM approval before filling in a CS.
Curses! It seems like I've missed my chance to join. I was thinking of making a water god and maybe playing off the idea of RofIsMazoy's Water Dragon, but if you guys are full, thems the breaks. I'll subscribe to watch in any case. I want to see where this goes.
"Possibly, but I've yet to find out the why and who," Jerrick responded to his wife. Vera stepped up to Jerrick and he managed to grab onto both her hands before she could surprise him with anything, then stepped in to kiss her on the lips. Once they separated, Vera smiled. "Don't be up too late, okay?" Jerrick sighed, "I can't promise that. This might take a while." Bowing her head forward onto the bridge of Jerrick's nose, Vera closed her eyes and sighed as well, but she still smiled. "You work to hard." She stepped away, letting her fingers slide away from his. "Goodnight, dear." "Goodnight, Vera." Jerrick stayed standing until Vera turned and walked out of the room. Once the door closed, his eyes glanced up to roughly where Ahnasha and Meesei were, then he sat back down and began looking through the accounts again. In spite of his grumbling stomach, he didn't so much as touch the food. Harriet lowered her arms as Lorag got up. When he finally stood straight, he threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard before he could say another word. Lorag could feel Harriet's heartbeat racing against his chest through the experience. When she pulled away after a few seconds, she took a breath. "Not an order. A challenge," she said, still surprisingly stern, but breathing a little faster now, "I said this wasn't over, and...I know a place. You wanna show me what you've got, big boy?"
Once Rareth's scales were realigned, Shiva looked up to Telmeck to answer his question. She raised a finger and was about to tap at her head spike, only to be reminded once again that it had been cut off due to her convict status. Still, the gesture worked enough. "We had a captive masulu who rushed up and jabbed Rareth with his spike. He was shot to pieces of course, but it still got through her armour." Shiva rubbed at the stump of her own head spike, "Rareth was lucky that it didn't get too deep into her lungs, or worse, hit her heart." With a few last minute adjustments to the level of Rareth's scales, nothing showed any evidence of her wound except for the peculiar lack of wear in the patch of the puncture. The scales were fresh and of a slightly richer colour than those around them, but they would blend in within a day or two. "Alright, Rareth, you're all done. Stand up, tell me how it feels." Shiva shifted uncomfortably in her uniform and equipment, then went to pick up her bracers and gloves. "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to change and wash. Maybe take a nap. Do you need anything else?"
A tense hour passed in the meeting room as Jerrick went over page after page of ledgers. What he read was nothing he was not already aware of, but keeping up the ruse was important. Just as it seemed that he was going to nod off, the door started to open unceremoniously. Jerrick looked forward, putting both his hands on the table in preparation to push up and ready himself. He seemed to relax when he saw who it was, though. "Vera, what are you doing here? I asked not to be disturbed." Jerrick's words were soft as his wife came into view. Vera was carrying a tray with a meal on it and shuffled slowly along the floor towards Jerrick so as not to spill the drink she had poured for him. "I thought you might be hungry. You didn't have any lunch or dinner." Jerrick sighed and smiled, "That's okay, dear. I've been snacking through the day." "I'll have none of it. If you're going to be this busy, you need to keep your strength up." Vera continued towards the table. It was not a violent pace and it didn't appear that she was carrying any weaponry, but Jerrick still stood up. He seemed conflicted, torn between trusting his own wife and preserving his life. Vera stopped out of reach of Jerrick and put down the meal on the table. "Why are you looking over the accounts anyway? Is there a discrepancy?" Harriet sneered at Lorag impatiently, before moving her foot from his arm to kick him roughly in the buttocks. "You're gonna stand up or the next kick's goin' somewhere else." It was doubtful that Lorag was going to be bruised by the kick, but if he was groggy before, he shouldn't be now.
At first, Leneas sounded slow. Frustratingly slow. By the third 'well', Cassarah was about to start being more specific and ask about description, personality, powers, authority and such. Then he went and threw a question right back at her, an odd one at that. Cassarah habitually glanced over to her staff to double check that it was in reach. The only talk of a demon invasion was in some old text that claimed there would be some kind of demon king in ten thousand years from when it was written. Or was it five hundred? Cassarah was never good with the strange numeral system that the demons used. Either way it was nonsensical. Wait, Cassarah stopped herself from beating a hasty retreat, A guard would be far more smug if he wanted a confession out of me. Cassarah angled her head an eighth turn to one side in curiosity. "Demons don't war, they raid," Cassarah admitted, "They don't unite to war. To do that would require a...a..." Cassarah waved a hand in the air, trying to find the word, "A leader. A king. I don't think you would have to worry, Leneas. That kind of thing only happens in stories." Cassarah leaned forward on the table, "Now, I thought we were talking about Astech. Is that a specific demon? A variety you saw? Tell me." Perhaps Cassarah had said too much, but she would be able to get out of there if it turned out to be a guard out for cheap glory. She often didn't check herself when talking about the subject of her research.
Despite Rhazii's initial protests at seeing his mother walk away, Fendros managed to settle him and continued the conversation with everyone. Soon enough, a couple of people from another table called over to them, suggesting that they break bread with 'real hunters'. This caused a slight bit of confusion until Fabian explained that they might tolerate their presence, but they don't have much in common with he, Hadryn and Theresa. They managed to get them around a fire anyway where it appeared they were friendly, but had an underlying rivalry. Theresa then filled Fendros, Janius, and Kaleeth of the factional dynamic of the clan. It was a small community, but there were packs that were under the management of the lieutenants exclusively to make things easier. Such packs tend to respect the commands of their lieutenants more than others due limited resources sometimes making things tense. Around good times such as these, though, they were still a big family. As they might have suspected, the well spoken and knowledgeable Fabian, Theresa, and Hadryn were in a pack under Darahil. The noisier and more excitable people around them were in packs under Oswall and Harriet. The only ones under Vera present were Anders' pack and likely more people in Bruma and elsewhere in the ruin. Sabine found a place to make the scent ointment while Ahnasha was filled in on the situation. During the afternoon, Jerrick himself came by with a satchel containing all Meesei had requested. He still had some business to take care of, but after dinner, he came by Meesei to mention that some 'bed bugs' had been reported in some rooms and to ask if they required an alchemical repellent. With that, he headed straight to the meeting chamber to look over ledgers and accounts. He asked not to be disturbed by anyone, so Meesei and Ahnasha's approach had to be stealthy enough that it was possible that he didn't notice them at all. Only once was he soon disturbed by Darahil knocking on the door to ask what he was doing and whether he needed assistance. Jerrick didn't get up, and merely shouted politely to lead Darahil off. Darahil still didn't open the door, but his footsteps heralded his departure. The rest of the pack took the time to visit the pool chamber and cleanse off their travels with some others in the clan. Sabine didn't seem to contribute much to conversation and tried to leave as soon as she could. When Janius asked where she was going, she responded saying that she was going to find her friends that she had met today, but Janius stopped her. He was tasked in keeping an eye on her after all. Sabine was visibly glum from having to stay around with the pack. Fendros stayed with Rhazii in a shallow section of the pool, but was beginning to get concerned about Ahnasha and Meesei. They never had the opportunity to talk about their plans. Over in the Meesei's pack's bedchamber, a napping Lorag was woken up by a pressure on his side. "Hey, big boy," Harriet was standing over him with her arms crossed and her foot on his upper arm. "Get up." Her voice was as commanding as ever, but seemed more toned down, like she didn't want to attract attention from anyone nearby.
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