Sigil

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

@Lady Amalthea

This is going to sound like an odd request. Would it be possible to remove one or more Rusyn Trained skill slots in favor of Basic skills? A lot of these Trained skills are not in line with his character concept, and I can't really see this guy putting in the time to learn them, when he has other responsibilities.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

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Keystone & Sana

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern, 2F Private Room

Interacting With: Each Other, awkwardly

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The evening blessedly passed without incident, although the temperature did drop considerably as time rolled by. Keystone instinctively sought comfort in the night, rolling over to the nearest source of steady warmth and pulling a blanket over himself. His rest continued, otherwise unabated, until morning's grey light filtered in through the shutters, a single, wide shaft of illumination providing just enough ambient light to rouse the slumbering Pugilist. It was the first time in a while he had slept as soundly in a good long while, and even though he was technically awake at this time, he had no desire to move from his warm, comfortable position until his the urgency to relieve his bladder overtook his desire to remain laying down.

Suddenly, something in his brain clicked. A mote of awareness, possibly an point of alarm that had to be addressed. What it was, he could not say; only that something was very, very wrong and it needed to be addressed as seriously as a rabid pit viper. Slowly, Keystone opened his eyes and patiently allowed them to adjust to the light. A soft sigh came from under the covers, stirring slightly but not enough to rouse. Golden hair peaked out from the top of the sheets and beneath Keystones chin.

Sana had slept peacefully that evening, getting some much needed rest. She had always slept best on her side and hated facing windows. They let the sun come in well before she was ever ready to get up. Spending most of her life sleeping outdoors, one would think she would be used to it but she wasn't. And when she had found herself passing out in an actual bed she took full advantage of it. Granted how she ended up curled up against Keystones chest was anyone's guess. People move in their sleep, it happens. It so happened that Sana ended up with her head tucked beneath his chin, her legs laced with his own and a hand resting on his chest as she breathed deeply and slowly.

Keystone, meanwhile, was wondering precisely how he was going to remove himself from the situation before Sana fully woke up. Not that this was an occasion wherein shame would have gotten the better of him; far from it. Were he the type to stretch the truth or brag about his mid-coital exploits, the acquisition of a magical gypsy-bard would, in this regard, only heighten his reputation in certain circles. But considering what kind of a person he was, it could actually damage her reputation. Even that aside, he didn't want to have his first experience of the morning be him getting swatted and assaulted for unknowingly copping a feel. To accomplish this, he initiated a "hand check", to ascertain precisely where each one was before he started moving around. "One... and two." he clicked off mentally. With speed comparable to the common garden slug, Keystone began his attempt to remove himself from the tangle of limbs and bedsheets that began his morning. The fact that, for whatever reason, he noticed that her hair carried a particularly drawing scent meant absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

A grumble came from Sana's lips as Keystone tried to remove himself and she shifted slightly. Not to pull away but to snuggle closer against him. Her hand slipping from resting on his chest to around it and pressing to his back. The woman was by no means stronger than Keystone but she was hardly a weakling, it didn't hurt that the majority of her strength was in her arms. A life time of drawing a bow string tended to do that. Either way, she was glued to him and seemed hell bent in her sleep not to move from the warmth his body provided. There was a chill in the air now because of the drop in temperature over night, that had to be why she was keeping herself so close. Right?

"Bloody 'ell, she's got some chains on 'er..." echoed in Keystone's mind. That meant the decision had most definitely been made for him. He could struggle out of the iron grip of the sinewy archer readily enough, but that would utterly destroy his misguided attempt at subtlety from a moment ago. No, no. Not this morning. Keystone resolved that he was going to stay right there, in that position, until such time as Sana wanted to rise for the day. He slowly put his hands back where they were when he first woke and settled back in, content to wait.

And if he was completely honest, the scent of her hair - Very much a perk. To hell with the undead emergency.

🦄 Darker Than Black - Merged With T.S.

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Caesar y Keystone

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Location: Justice Asylum

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Keystone could hear the scream, too. It was difficult not to. His first impulse in instances like this was usually to advance and pummel the potential threat senseless, but he had a higher priority at that point; keeping Cecily safe. Big, scary bodyguard. But Caesar wanted him to come along to help him locate (and potentially bring suffering upon) the woman he greatly suspected murdered his daughter. If Cecily's guess was correct, and this was the woman in question, he would have to make a move, and immediately. Hell, if Caesar knew that he was nearby and let her slip through his fingers without so much as a quick peek to observe, his continued employment would be called into question. At the very least. He had to go. But Cecily...

But Cecily solved his dilemma for him. Upon voicing her desire to "go get her", it absolved him of any obligation to hang back or the purposes of protecting his charge. She wanted to go closer and he was her huge, hulking shadow. But first, he had to let Caesar know what was about to happen. I this lady was as dangerous as he'd been led to believe, he wanted backup on its way; the type of backup that had little qualms with getting their hands dirty. Keystone quickly dug his phone from his pocket and activated a Voice to Text option and spoke into the device. "Text El Jefe."

At the crime scene. Screams from down the hall, might be her. On the way now. Would love some backup.

"Right then, let's get to it." said Keystone, slipping his phone away and drawing a his rarely utilized sidearm, a beast of a hand cannon bearing the stamp of "Desert Eagle .50". The big man's training had him with a preference for more brutal melee combat, but he wasn't taking any chances, as personal as this was. "Keep behind me, yeah?" he told Cecily, and began a cautious jog in the direction of the ruckus. As they neared a corner, Keystone glanced back at his young charge, asking, "Broomstick, eh?" before continuing onward.

Meanwhile, on a lower floor, Caesar had busied himself looking for possible means of egress one might take unnoticed, as well as signs that they may have been used recently. When he received the message from Keystone, upstairs, he broke off at a run. Elevator excluded, anyway. It would take a bit longer for him to reach the scene, obviously, but he would get there soon. Hopefully, soon enough.

🧚🏻‍♀️ The Walking Dead - Year 6 Part 1

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Black James(!)

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Location: Building 7 (Rec Center)

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James was vaguely aware of Froggy approaching with two very new people. Considering that they weren't running around shooting the place up, and weren't trying to eat anybody's face, he assumed that they were okay. Or, good enough to be let around people. He smiled halfheartedly and shook each man's hand in turn, seemingly oblivious to the question that Froggy posed to him. He shook his head, and put on a voice that was more cheerful than he actually felt. "Hey, how y'all doin'? Name of James Mandingo Grady! Hogger by trade. Well, used to be, 'til all this foolishness start up... Anyways, I handle our Farmin' and such, make sure we all got our fill o' corn, beans, and that sweet, meaty 'cue."

He looked to Froggy, then back to their guests. It seemed that he wanted some sort of explanation. "Look, I'm sorry, today's been a li'l emotional's all. Tell ya what, Doc," he made sure to look to Froggy, rather than the former Medical Examiner to avoid confusion, "I'll do what I do, an' set 'em up with a good, hot meal." James smiled broadly, glad to handle something within his power to help. Especially if it took his mind off of issues recently brought to the fore. "Also, if'n y'all two are drinkin' men, our Cap'n has the touch with that good, smooth 'shine. But I think some food's gonna have to come first. C'mon! I'll get you two some plates."

Now back to something resembling his bubbly, former self, James waved the two newcomers over to the buffet setup, and as promised, started piling plates with cornbread, roasted sweet potatoes, and bits of edible greenery. He left a sizeable piece of the plate empty, and looked with some pride at the ample remains of the whole, smoked pig on the table just to the left of him. "Aight! Who's first?"

🦄 After Miranda - A Firefly Rp - Season 1 (Completed)

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William Harper

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Location: Retribution, Quarters -> Outside the Retribution

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Well, no one else died. That was a good thing at least. While there was a very definite feeling of a lack of purpose, not to mention his oppressive absence of options right then, Harper could console himself with the fact that, upon landing, he was not immediately turned over to the authorities as was hinted by Anisa just three days prior. It didn't inspire immediate loyalty, not being sold out, but it was a small comfort. His tension would have been higher were they on a more Alliance-friendly world. Harper wasn't out from under the thumb of the Alliance yet. Until he was, someone would always have the means to manipulate him. Perhaps it was a stupid decision, entrusting his past to this Browncoat. He saw a possible opening and took a risk, hoping that it would pan out in his favor. If nothing else, he was a talented pilot and engineer, with technical skills that he could use for trade wherever he went. Especially this far away from the Core, where people of his education were even rarer, Harper suspected that he would land on his feet.

Then Anisa paid him. That was unexpected. Plus a bit extra to cover his lost property. Between this and his identity's last paycheck, it was a fresh start, if he wanted it. But it probably still wasn't enough to get a decent, long-range ship from this world that didn't have something horribly wrong with it, and he didn't feel like getting stuck here for very long. However, the ship was being sold off. The I.A.V. Retribution was not going to be his home for the last two years of his term of service. He had to pack. It wouldn't take long, he had carried everything that he owned with him when he boarded.

As he put away his gear and personals, a couple of thoughts occurred to him. For starters, he would have to get rid of his Alliance equipment. Maybe keep a uniform and a couple of papers hidden someplace, as it may prove useful later, but the vast majority would have to go. This meant that he'd have to re-outfit himself before they left the planet. New clothes, new sidearm, everything. Except his tools, at any rate; and especially his wrench. Had to keep that wrench. Another idea, he might not have to abandon his Harper persona after all. If he kept under the radar with these people, he could easily go to any Alliance outpost after his term was up and claim that he was a captive during that time. He'd likely regain access to his identity's monies again, with interest, and one hell of a P.O.W. bonus besides. Harper could retire (understandably) with honor, and move on with his life without being under the yoke of the Alliance anymore. It was a plan. If it looked like it wouldn't work out, he could always go back to Plan B.

Packing done in a couple of minutes, Harper quickly changed into less official engineer's coveralls. He left his cases just inside of his quarters and made for the exterior of the vessel, to find Dorothy and Anisa standing outside, watching the ebb and flow of humanity in the cool morning air. Harper took a deep breath, and strode to the two of them. If they accepted him, he would be addressing his two new commanding officers.

Harper effected a salute, intoning "Ma'am." to Dorothy, and "Captain." to Anisa. "I'm in. I will require a little latitude for this to work out right. You know why, Captain. Otherwise, I'm your man."

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Foy Coiffeur

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Location: Foy-er

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Foy had his own cross to bear, as it were, getting his supplies together. His personals were already handled, packed and ready to go, including his extensive wardrobe and selection of hats. With the exception of his Callahan, the odd gentleman made sure to keep himself fully armed at all times. This day of packing was no different. He cursed the timing on the dismissal of the Alliance crew; though he made excellent use of them getting all of his professional gear packed neatly away and personals moved to an accessible central location, he still had to go through the monotonous task of itemizing and shuffling away all of his sundries. Then, of course, thee was the question of relocating his vintage Barber's Chair. That would require the grav dolly and some patience.

Likely, he would have to do it himself, too. Such was the curse of being one of two, maybe three people who could appreciate things of this nature. "Ah, Yoe-y..." he mused aloud, thinking of that one Yeoman whose hair he was trimming when Jahosafat made his initial appearance on the scene, "Wherever have you gotten off to, now that manual labor is a requisite? It is for shame. Mayhap I should track you down before time takes you too far from the vessel and contract you as a houseboy... Hmm..."

Foy still wasn't sure what he should do. He didn't want to leave his friend and fellow Dapper Gentryman behind, not in his state. But his own contract with the Alliance had run its course. He would weave a tale of the ship being taken over and him bribing his way to get to the next port of call, collect his money, and be on his way. And speaking of money, the Browncoat lady did win some points with him by giving over a share of the profits from the last venture, even though he referred to it as merely: "Walking-around cash, of course. But my gratitude. I did mean to replace a handkerchief or two." In his defense, he did tend to spend a bit of money on luxuries. If almost defined him. Considering his options in that moment, he could easily charter a cruise to someplace warm and green, vacation for a while. He felt that he greatly deserved it, considering the insufferably mediocre people he was forced to deal with during his most recent time with the Alliance. But these Browncoats, though sorely lacking in funds, seemed tons more interesting.

Then another thought hit him: This could be an opportunity. His financial resources, which he would have to massively shuffle, even to the point of cutting himself off from a good portion of the family fortune, coupled with his business connections, put him in a unique position to make use of a bunch of non-tethered outlaws, even as they might make use of a former Agent like himself. Naturally, there was still Josie to think about. Either way, he would have to leave the Retribution in an hour or two, as it was being sold off soon. The others would have to secure their own transportation, likely another ship (though not as "grand" as this, he wagered). The Respectable Mr. Foy Coiffeur would make his decision then, unless circumstances forced him to do so earlier.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

@The Grey Dust

🦄 Deeper Than The Sands - Merged With T.S.

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Reginald Keystone

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Location: Qasr El Nil Barracks

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Qasr El Nil Barracks

It seemed that, beyond the realm of possibility, everything was getting settled for the evening. Reginald heeded the words of the Steward. His guests were billeted and fed, given comfort befitting an officer in the Royal Military. Rather more than some deserved, in his estimation, but it would be vastly outside the realm of gentlemanly behavior to show less favor to some guests than others. No, everyone would have equal privilege under his care, social rank outside of the Barrack's walls notwithstanding. An interesting but quick turn of subject caught his attention; their Lieutenant in charge of office legalities wished an audience concerning some paperwork. Such a thing would generally be better left brought up in the cool light of the morning, but here was the Steward, mentioning it presently.

He played it off, being as he was in front of guests. "Yes, quite. Well then, schedule a meeting just prior to breakfast to outline the issue, hopefully it shan't take long." He gave a quiet but intense look to the man, imparting a seriousness that his more flippant words did not. "But in the meantime, is my evening Tea ready?"

"Of course, Lord Major." It was pleasant to not hear his title shouted in his face.

"Excellent. Then I shall see you on the morrow, my good man." Reginald tipped his cap to anyone left in the common area, bidding them a pleasant evening, before retiring to his own rooms. He treated himself to a rich, firm plum from a crystal bowl of them, and sat down to a lovely, warming cup of chamomile. His evening's rest would be shorter than he'd prefer, and the next day would likewise be longer than he'd wish. He must remember to schedule a bit of naptime in the afternoons, that being the case, and a small pot of some of that strong Arabica bean preparation the locals were so fond of, despite the Lord Major's surety that it would likely prove disastrous to his innards with prolonged usage. But for now he had his sword, sidearm, guards, and a fully functioning military base to provide decent security.

He locked his door all the same.

Reginald quickly found himself in a respectable cap and nightshirt, windows tightly shuttered against the cool breeze coming from the Nile (which looked particularly lovely this evening). He finished his warming drink and settled into his most comfortable bed. The day could have gone worse. It was bad, but life could be treating him much worse, here in his autumn years. Those problems he could fix tomorrow. The Lord Major would help his friends and family, ensuring their safety as best he was able, and maybe even help to solve a rather interesting bit of intrigue that troubled them all.

But now...

Sleep.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

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_{"Blessed be the Lord my strength, which teacheth my hands to war and my fingers to fight."}

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Location: Almack's

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Elizaveta chose to remain with the fallen Buckingham. Mary wished that it was not so, that she could enter into glorious battle against the coming tide of Soulless that threatened the people of London. Even though most of the persons patronizing Almack's were less pious and more proud, they were still possessed of a Soul, which meant they deserved the Lord's judgement, not that of the darkness spreading within this place.

So many mistakes were made tonight. Overconfidence and neglect led to this tragedy. Pride led to this. It cometh before a fall, and still served as the chiefest of Cardinal Sin; the one without which the others could not bloom. Pride kept others from allowing people like her to fulfill their obligations to the Soulled, be it because of jealousy, fear, petty politics, or some other unknown motivation. Well, Mary was steadfast in her current prediction that this incident would take gigantic strides in changing that particular social dynamic. It was just a shame that people had to die first. And that is die, if they were lucky. Their bodies would have to be attended before too long. She hoped that she would have the courage to forgive the people in charge of the event tonight, but there would have to be a sincere form of humble atonement.

But Mary could not dwell upon this at the moment. She had somewhere she was needed. The young Venator est Inanimati nodded back to the Grand Duchess, intoning the words, "With your leave, Your Grace." in her dulcet voice, made hard by the role she was stepping into. Stealth was pointless now. She had the cover of several hundred small birds and better training than any career soldier the Empire could field, not to mention the surety of her faith propelling her onward.

Mary took three measured steps toward the right corridor. She strained her neck to either side, issuing audible pops from her vertebrae. She twirled her halberd in her hands as she walked, bringing it to rest in a ready position. With intonation that would have struck terror into even the most hardened criminal, Mary growled, "Let us pray." and took off at a sprint.

The host of sparrows swirling about her, Mary flung herself toward the right corridor. She truly did intend to give supplication to God in that moment, regardless of her sudden onset of righteous indignation; and so with this in mind, kept a prayer on her lips as she ran. "Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name..." Mary had reached the corridor and surged forward, picking up more speed.

"...thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven..." She made it to the end of the corridor. An open archway separated her from the right stairwell and the doorway to the upper Musician's Gallery for the Card Room, which she blew through without losing appreciable speed.

"...give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..." The fastest way to the door beyond the middle Musician's Gallery was to use the walkway beneath. Mary slipped down into the walkway and sped across, raising the butt of her halberd to slam open the slightly ajar door between herself, and the room that was the last place she saw Virginia enter. She braced to slam open the door, reciting the last lines of "Our Father", her voice growing in might as she came to the end. "And lead us not into temptation..."

She did not envy whatever godless opposition was on the other side of that door.

🦄 Duplicity - D&D Style Fantasy Rp Adventure (Completed)

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Keystone & Sana

Location: Crossed Swords Inn & Tavern, 2F Private Room

Interacting With: Each Other

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"Right." Keystone responded, eager to get himself and Sana settled in, and by extension, reasonably defended for the evening. Totally misreading the intent of her outstretched hand, the large man stepped inside of it, causing her arm to settle behind his neck. "Up we go then..." he mumbled, bending down and wrapping his arm around Sana's hips. He lifted her easily from the staircase and started up, his other hand trailing the banister (just in case). It certainly took less time than grabbing her hand and giving her an assist.

Sana hadn't been expecting that. Cocking a brow as she was lifted off the ground and basically toted up the stairs. What she had expected but a small assist. Him taking her hand, giving her something to lean against, make sure she didn't end up taking a tumble backwards and falling on her ass. Yet there she was, being lifted as if she was nothing in weight and hoisted up to the top of the stairs. Smirking some she was grateful he wasn't at least tossing her over his shoulder and carrying her like a sake of potatoes. Last thing she needed was her rear-end sticking straight up in the air right then.

Once at his reserved room, Keystone noticed a couple of interesting points. First off, his coat and pack had been delivered as requested. He made a mental note to make sure all of his belongings were accounted for, but that was an issue for a little later. Secondly, this was not the same room he used a week ago. It wasn't much bigger, though. Secondly, there were two (near identical) beds rather than one, as requested, but they were pushed together for the sake of saving space. And Third, the claw foot tub that was present in his earlier accommodations was in a separate, adjoining room. This one was right in the room. To one side, but right there, nonetheless.

Looking around the room slowly Sana's brow rose a bit more. Just what in the world was going on. She didn't have a problem sharing a room with the big brute, (I'll call the Brute Squad. I'm on the Brute Squad. You are the Brute Squad!) but pushed together beds and the bath right there in the room, not even a screen to be had? This was a turn of events she hadn't expected. His second unexpected action of the evening. Did he not know about the room or was this planned? She gave Keystone the benefit of the doubt on this subject. The man might be damn fine in battle but his enticements of the fairer sex, from what she had noticed, didn't involve a romantic setting. She half figured him more of a club them over the head and drag them to the cave type.

The thought crossed Keystone's mind that he underestimated the value of silver this far out in the sticks, and his last room was probably one of the better ones, considering the amount he offered and the tiny amount of change returned. No matter, the bed was a welcome sight. If he could effectively bar the door and window from unwelcome visitors, he might even be able to get some actual rest. Of course, he doubted it greatly. Most undead didn't care if the sun was out or not, definitely on the lower end of the "rotting bastard" hierarchy. If they were under the control of a reasonably thinking master, it might serve as an very effective time to attack without penalty while the puny Humans were stumbling about in the dark. Hence, the barricading of the door and window, if possible.

A decent showing of steam rose from the bathtub, indicating that they were indeed not too late. But with this in the room with them, there arose an interesting predicament. "Ah, Miss Sana?" he began, setting her down on her feet gently. "You want I should stick around, or you think I ought leave? Makes no nevermind to me, mind you, but I ain't wantin' to piss you off. And I ain't keen on gettin' slapped at in th'face, y'understand."

Sana looked at the bath and went to try to move but she felt the fatigue setting in. This was about to get really awkward really fast. Maybe she should have asked Satilla to help her, or even Cyneburg, but too late. Damage done. Might as well suck it up and get it over with. "Actually, gonna need yer help," she said keeping her eyes on the bath water and very thankful it wasn't smelling of flowers and fruit. "Tight leather ain't exactly easy to peel off, especially after days of being out in the woods and fighting. So, over there," she said motioning towards the tub. "Time to play if you grab the wrong body part slapping's gonna be the least of your worries."

Keystone looked at her with a smirk of sarcasm. "But lookin's fine, right?" He shook his head. "Listen, your pretty arse ain't 'xactly what I'm after this evenin', alright? Don't go gettin' me wrong - things being different I'd be soft in the bloody 'ead, turn a lady like yourself down." Keystone stepped over to the other side of the tub and held his arms out, tilting his head to an upward angle to better view the amazing carpentry of the ceiling just then, "But near as I can tell, you ain't some servin' bint what I can ply with strong drink, nor're you the kind what sells your affections. You're decent folk, Sana. An' I know this's lookin' right suspect. That outta the way, we got bigger worries than me grabbin' a handful of naughties on accident. Let's just do this and have it be done."

Sana let a coy smile come to her lips. Her hips swayed slightly as she moved carefully over to the tub. Slipping beneath his outstretched arms and coming up between them, her body lightly pressing back against his chest. Brushing her hair to the side to reveal the slender slope of her neck and the leather tie of her top. Her voice came through as warm silk when she finally spoke. "You forget, I am gypsy first." Gypsy, courtesan, the Rawn Troupe was known for their seduction and charm. Their most prized raised to be able to extract what they wished and needed from any court.

Granted, even though Sana had been raised to take over for her troupe, for her people. She knew the steps, she had the skill, and before her burns she once had the beauty. What she didn't have was the ability to keep from laughing right then. Keystone was more than just some mark to her, a friend and perhaps more. Which was why she couldn't keep it up. A loud guffaw coming from her lips, right before she felt her teeth would shatter if she had kept it in any longer. After a few minutes of holding onto the side of the tub laughing her proverbial ass off, she finally was able to speak between giggles. "Oh fer crying out loud. Untie me and help me out of these shorts. You looking isn't going to hurt a damn thing, so just watch what your doing."

Keystone's face expressed a small amount of irritation as his eyes lowered to view Sana getting awfully cozy with him. Women had, on occasion, attempted to sway him with more physical favor for their own reasons, thinking him stupid or an easy mark. Perhaps it was on account of his massive stature and the fact that the marks of a hundred fights upon his face and body tended to be somewhat offputting, possibly to the degree that would make him starved for a woman's attention. They were incorrect, of coure. It was a lesson he learned earlier in life. In this case, he honestly believed Sana was just screwing with him.

"You are a right solid twat, d'ya know that?" The look on his face unchanging, he mechanically pulled the knot to her top free and snatched down her leather shorts. While impressive, her shape still wasn't foremost on his mind. "Mind you save a bit of that heat, Miss Sana. I might want to wash my arse, too."

"I know, only fitting you are stuck with me since you are a right solid arse," she laughed as her clothing fell away from her body and she used Keystone's arm as a balance to help her climb into the tub. Resting down she relaxed a bit as she looked up to him. "Aww now, remember I am a right solid twat, why would I save any warm water for you?" she said with a smirk on her lips. It was obvious she was messing around as she started washing herself carefully but quickly even as she spoke.

"Yeah, I'd imagine you'd be actin' spiteful" mumbled Keystone, untucking his shirt and walking over to his pack. He hefted it onto a small table nearby, rummaging through it until he produced a small bottle of hard, white porcelain. "This ain't as brash as ale, Miss Sana. Point of fact, little softer than the water they're servin' 'ere. Shou drink, this is. Made from plums. Why don't you see if it 'elps numb that throat a bit?" He allowed himself a look as he offered the bottle to her. "And hows about you tell me a little 'bout them scars? Every one's got a story. I should know."

Sana smirked a bit as she reached out and took the bottle. Resting back in the tub, not caring if he did look or not. She was not ashamed, she learned to put that behind her long ago. Taking a small sip she perked a brow. It was stouter and also tasted much better than what she had sampled downstairs. Leave it to Keystone to keep something tasty stashed away. Thinking on his question she took another long pull and closed her eyes.

"Hounds, slave traders, and fire," she said thinking back on that night. "Myself and two other women left a town that had been besieged by slave traders. Attacking them at their camp. During the fight hounds latched onto my shoulder and leg." Her eyes opened as she lifted her leg from the water and showed the puncture marks on her left thigh and calf. "The burns came later, tossed into a fire during the fight. Why the scar stops where my bracer is worn. I was lucky enough I guess, my face was spared for the most part." Shrugging she sat up in the bath and wrapped her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. "It could have been worse and in the end I guess it was worth it. I found my parents. Father alive near death, mother dead. My troupe captured long before then unknown to me. Father died in my arms and in a pit I found my last blood, a tiny cousin: crying in the arms of my dead mother." Shaking the memories from her mind she took another swig of the plum drink and held the bottle back out to him.

"Come on, help me out. Your turn," she said as she rested her free hand on the edge of the bath and started to stand up. Seemed she had said her piece and gave him the answer to the question he asked: other than that she wanted to move on.

He accepted the bottle, taking a taste for himself. Nodding gravely at the story unfolded in front of him, Keystone could understand and even sympathize with tales of tragedy and the marks borne by those that survived. The large man reached out and assisted in Sana's grand tub exit, snatching up a nearby towel and handing it over to her. Rather awkwardly, he managed to get out, "Bloody badges of honor, Miss Sana. Earned every one of 'em. Don't you ever think they've made you less." Then a quick subject change, "You got anything to sleep in, then? Proper bed an' all. I might have some woolen item or another that'd be a good-enough nightshirt in this weather."

Taking the towel Sana dried off and shook her head. Reaching for her bag and pulling out a white cotton tunic. "This will work, now get your solid arse washed." Slipping on the shirt she carefully climbed into bed and rested back as she looked over to him. If he looked then she would look, it was only fair in her eyes. She wanted to say for the love of god for him not to do what he did last time he was in the tavern but she kept her mouth shut. Best not to poke the Kraken.

"That'll do, then." remarked Keystone about the shirt. Without so much as a warning, The Man Without Shame dropped his clothing and bracers from his body on the spot, letting it fall heavily upon the floor. The coverage of his own scarring was bared for Sana to see, extensive and varying. The fresher ones were apparent, but older ones crisscrossed over his flesh like a roadmap drawn by a raging blind man. He climbed into the tub and immediately set to scrubbing the last few days from himself in a fast and expedient manner. He briefly toyed with the idea of taking his great knife and shaving the week's worth of hair from his face, but ultimately decided against it. He did desire rest. If they weren't all dead in the morning, he'd have no problem parting with a silver coin for that Dwarven fellow downstairs to ply his trade. Around armed folk, of course. It is a foolish man to fully trust a strange barber in times of conflict. "Go on an' get some sleep, Miss Sana." suggested Keystone. "I'll bar up the door an' whatnot. Make sure we get a decent breakfast come tomorrow, too. You just rest."

Sana cocked a brow seeing the scarring. She was sure there was a story behind the lot of them but if either of them wanted rest that evening it was best to leave it for another day. With everything going on curiosity could wait, sleep was needed. Especially if they had any more runs ins like the one they had at the Orc encampment. "Sounds like a plan, you can tell me about your scars once things calm down," she said lightly before rolling over onto her side and getting comfortable. "Make sure you get some rest as well. Night Keystone," she added before letting her eyes drift close and allowing sleep to finally take her.

"Yeah, I'll do that." replied Keystone, addressing both the statement about his scars and her suggestion about getting rest. "G'night then, Sana."

Keystone gave his head one final dunk into the bathwater and emerged from the tub. He quickly toweled off and slipped into a thick, loose pair of canvas pants. Forsaking a shirt of any kind, he clipped his Dwarfcraft bracers back onto his arms. The door was next. Standard in this place seemed to be a decent bar to set across the humble wooden portcullis. Less expensive than a bound lock and more secure. The window shuttered and latched, although it was dubious how long it would last against an attack. Well, no matter. It was better than sleeping under the stars. Much better. And Keystone did want actual sleep. Meditation was an amazing way to stave off the need for it, and for weeks at a time. But he was not so talented at it that he could ignore true sleep forever.

Satisfied that Sana, himself, and their belongings were as secure as he could make them, Keystone settled back into the double-bed next to the already dreaming Sana and drifted off into what passed for restful slumber, given all that had happened.

🦄 Soulless Regency - Merged With T.S.

Moment of silence for Lady Luck's first PC victim in Soulless Regency.

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...ok, that's enough.

Welcome to the club, @rivaan. It's a Rite of Passage, having a character you put a lot of time and effort into get gutted and stomped upon by the cruel stiletto heels of a die roll, courtesy of LLA. The only solace I have found in my several character deaths is that many of them can be reincarnated in other of Lady A's RPs. Takes a little imagination, but if their story wasn't told to your satisfaction, there are ways.