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While we're at it, who'd like a reboot on Google Docs? Lore is still the same. I like the characters you all have, but I don't think I did them justice. Some of the NPCs need overhauls too.
Don't be surprised to see me on SCII/TCRSS/TF2 while on Discord.

I'll probably be on HotS for a while until everyone joins up the Google Docs. Thinslayer#1556
We need to move this offsite for the time being. These server timeouts are physically preventing me from posting. I had a really high-quality story piece that I was just dying to post yesterday, but the server wouldn't let me even open RPG. And now that it's open, I no longer have time to post.

What do you guys say we move this to, like, Google Drive?
Still too tired to write properly, but I had an epiphany today on how to improve player autonomy: remove the train engine. It was so simple, I feel like an idiot for not knowing that.

I aim to write tomorrow or the day after.
*peeks out from under the covers*

Are the server issues gone yet?


@awkwarddingo
Solomon nodded and looked around the town. "It's larger than most, with a good-sized market, a number of blacksmiths...I wish I visited this place during my courier runs!"

His smile sent the princess's heart aflutter. For a moment, she forgot her dirtied boot and gazed up into the face of happiness, while her hand found its way over her shoulder and started twirling her hair on a finger. Amalthea failed to restrain her own smile and looked down at her feet to hide it.

Then she noticed her dirty boot again.

It would stink up a decenly clean room, let alone any close encounter with His Heroship. His smile would turn into a sneer. And it would kill her. Honest-to-God heroes didn't show up every day, especially ones this young and handsome, and if that redheaded criminal thought for one minute that she could keep him away...this moment wouldn't last, would it?

Angry tears welled up in her eyes.

Whether or not Solomon noticed her turmoil, his attempts at conversation distracted her. "Did you ever visit markets like this before recent events? Forgive me, but until I met you, I always thought of royalty as kings and queens sitting comfortably on a throne for hours on end. You've proven me wrong of course, but..."

Now grateful tears welled up in her eyes. That was the single greatest compliment she'd ever wanted to hear. Nobles showered her with meaningless flatteries, like "how radiant you are," "what magnificent poise," or "you're like the loveliest rose in spring." But behind her back, they called her "prissy bitch" and "mouthfooted whore." None of them could see all the work she put in to exploring her kingdom with her own eyes, to learn about this land she was to rule before she had to rule it. She didn't want to become an armchair queen, who never knew or cared how her policies would affect her people. And indeed, that was how most folks perceived royalty - how they would perceive her.

You've proven me wrong, he'd told her.

Amalthea sniffled and lifted her chin. "Thank you. I try. Yes, I did often visit the markets before I was forced to run. It was better by far than listening to some stuffy old coot drone on about economics. I spent more energy staying awake and secretly wiping drool on my sleeve than learning anything useful. I learned so much more by going out and seeing it all for myself."
She chuckled, adding, "I remember, back when the concept of 'money' still sent my head spinning, I once asked a fruit vendor whether I could have an orange. He replied, 'That'll be a copper.' When he saw the confusion on my face, he launched into an essay on why they were such a steal at that price, and I'll never forget his expression when I asked what a 'copper' was and why the orange would turn into one. He had this...off-blank, slightly scrunched-up look that seemed like he wanted to laugh, cry, and hug me all at once. That old man taught me more about money and economics than any tutor ever could. I aced the exam that week, if you were wondering."
I'm so sorry, I really hate making you wait this long. Heck, I hate waiting this long. I've been having a rough week and haven't been able to think well enough to post in any of my RPs.

Which isn't to say I haven't been thinking about them at all, though - how would things change if Solomon became aware of the rivalry for his affections? We'd get to see how his character handles jealousy and romantic conflicts, and I've been really curious about that. I'm dying to know whether he'd explode, shrink away, scold one girl, take pity on another, or something else entirely. Solomon's failure to notice Amalthea getting distracted by her mucked-up boot kinda threw me off a little, so with a little brainstorming, I should have something up by Saturday.
He pinches his lip. Yellow flakes of skin specked with black coffee grains come off on his fingers. Then he traces his finger along the lower lip to search for more, and pricks it on a sharp edge; he's found another flake. The Law of Even-ness declares that flake must come off too. But this one doesn't peel off cleanly. It must be torn off. Experience says that means blood.

Should he peel slowly to minimize bleeding, peel quickly to get it over with, or try to peel around it to prevent bleeding entirely?

The years have taught him that it's better to suffer an uncomfortable bump on the lip than to taste copper and hold a tissue for the next half hour. He peels around it and throws the flakes in the trash can. Satisfied that his lips are now mostly smooth, he slumps in his chair and stares at the computer screen. Take another phone call? Or sit in After-Call Work for a few minutes? One could get fired for sleeping at work, but one could also get fired for doing the job wrong. Is it better to keep working and risk making mistakes, or rest for a bit and run the (low) risk of being caught napping? Callers' rude screams can wait. On the balance, a brief power-nap sounds like a good choice.

Then he remembers that there was an internet article that said one possible cause of exhaustion is dehydration. A transparent purple water bottle sits on one corner of the desk, already half drunk. Perhaps a sip or two would help. The lid breaks away with a friendly "pop" before a cool, soothing drink of purified water washes down his throat. He's barely put the bottle down before a minor (but notable) surge of energy lifts his spirits.

Welcome to life in Arizona.
I don't drink. My ancestors and extended family have bad drinking problems, and if it's truly hereditary like scientists say, I'll be inviting destruction on myself if I ever start.

No, my health issues more likely stem from my sedentary lifestyle. We'll see what the doctor says.
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