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7 hrs ago
Current Pokemon that only evolve through trades are dumb >:(
3 days ago
Apartment all cleaned up. Feels good
3 days ago
Argh!! Lockjaw! Damn you, bubblegum!
4 days ago
Aaah, weekend... My old, dear friend... How I missed you
6 days ago
Half the week left, already exhausted...


I work at a grocery store.
Weekdays I'm usually online from around 3:00 PM, GMT+1/CET.
Weekends I'm usually online from around 10:00 AM GMT+1/CET.
My Steam name is the same as here, so if you want to add me and chat, go right ahead.

I do anime-roleplay, and nothing else.

Most Recent Posts

The smithy that the trio eventually came upon was the spitting image of what you'd picture a stereotypical blacksmith's shop to be. Once inside, they found the dusty locale to be rather poorly maintained, with mostly tools and utilities hanging from the walls and sitting on the shelves. There were weapons and armor, of course, but they were in the clear minority here - which made sense, given Palisade Town's rather limited number of residents who actually needed or used weapons or armor on a daily basis.

Theree was apparently two parts of the building though. The front area where one entered appeared to be the shop, while there also seemed to be a back-area, which was where the clanking and clattering could be heard. Fortunately, it also appeared that the store had a resident smith and a resident vendor, as a fellow was standing behind the counter when the gruop entered... Although, standing might have been a generous term... Rather, he was slouched over and lazily playing with his own wirey, grimy hair.

The man behind the counter was a tall, lanky fellow, wearing a pair of grey burlap pants, a same-colored burlap shirt and a tan-colored, sooty and stained apron. His face was rahter gaunt and his eyes were beady and mean-looking, he cast a cursory glance at three adventurers as they entered, but made noi effort to straighten up or welcome them to the store.

Upon hearing Steppe Archer's recital of possible business though, the man did spare her a look... Only to turn his attention away once he'd heard that the girl was only interested in selling.

"We don't buy shoddy, second-hand gear here. Go visit one of those pawn shops if ya got junk to sell." The man stated, with a raspy and dry voice, as if his throat was made outta sandpaper and he hadn't had a drink of water for a whole day.
"Uhm, excuse me? Don't you want to see the items before you turn away potential customers?" Druid Girl asked, taken aback by the man's genuine disinterest and dismissive attitude towards them. The man shot her an annoyed glance.
"Customers buy things from uthe store." He said grouchly.
"But you don't know if we'll buy anything once we've shown you our items, right?" Druid Girl stated, still somewhat baffled by the man.

The clerk gave the group a once-over, looking them up and down, then gave the most irritating-inducing smirk you'd ever laid oyes on.

"Heh, you lot? Buy something? Look at yerselves. Got no decent armor, no quality weapons... HEck, what're you even trying to sell? Butter knives and yer pappy's old hatchet? A pot lid you use as a shield? C'mon, stop wasting yours, and my, time." The man snorted dismissively.
"Wha- What kind of attitude is that?!" Druid Girl raised her voice, apparently aggrevated.
"Oh? I'm sorry, little girl, did I upset you? " The clerk - voice dripping with sarcasm - apologized mockingly.


A much deeper, booming voice came from the back-room. The hammering and clanking had stopped, and it seemed whoever was in there had heard - at least partially - the commotion out in the store proper. The clerk's face went slightly pale and his seedy eyes darted over to the doorway... Just in time to see a figure emerge.

This one was an even taller man, with white-grey beard and moustche, bulging and rippling muscles, broad shoulders and a bald-spot atop his head. His hair was tied into a brain at the back and he had a stern, rugged face. He wore a pair of similar pants as the clerk, along with the same apron, but no shirt. He stood not too much shorter than Big Red, and was a veritable mountain of a man.

"H-hey, p-pops!" The clerk said with an apparently nervous tone. "T-these bums rolled on in here and wanted to pawn off some junk they scrounged up on the road, so I-"
"So you started throwin' insults at'em and made a fool outta yerself?"
"Wh- No, I... They... They're trying to sell us junk, da'!"
"And you've actually let them show ya what they're sellin', right?"
"Well, no, but! I... Just look at'em! No way they got anything worthwhile to sell us!"


With a fist the size of something very large and very hard, the 'father' slugged his abrasive 'son' in the stomach, sending the boy flying back and into the wall behind the counter. A loud crash, followed by clattering and a bunch of whiney, wheezing moans followed. Slapping his hands togther as if to get rid of some dust, the old man turned to the group lowered his head.

"Sorry 'bout my idiot-boy. No sense in that head of his at all. Welcome to my smithy, how can I help you folks today?"

Druid Girl stood quiet. Her eyes were big as saucers and her mouth hung slightly opened. She was having a bit of trouble processing what had just hap+pened and it seemed the others would have to do the business-dealings... At least for now.
After sufficient pummeling, squawking and finger-wagging had been completed, Alice was eventually released from the angry dog-pile of upset housewives. That being said, despite them having stopped their immediate beatdown of the poor werewolf, many of them still remained at the knocked over stall, hands on their hips or crossed below their chests, raving on and on, lecturing and harshly reprimanding the poor girl. It was as if she hd a half dozen or so motthers, who were all scolding her at the same time.

Meanwhile, Brandy had managed to finally peel Francoise away from the cuts of meat on the ground, the large poodle licking itself happily around the mouth and wagging its tail in content. The huntsman was no less amused now than when the incident had occurred though, and as Brandy wiped her forehead off with the back of her arm, and let out a sigh of relief, the man approached the satyress with more verbal condemnation.

"Well, what're ya gonna do about this, huh?!"
"Do 'bout what?"
"MY MEATS! Yer damn dog just ate half o' it and knocked the other half to the ground! I can't sell any of this now!"
"... Wow, that sure stinks." Brandy replied, rubbing the back of her head and having a sheepish smile on her face.
"Ain't nothin' to smile 'bout, girlie! You and yer friend are gonna pay for every scrap o' meat that menace of yours ate!"
"Ma-ma-ma-mwhat!? Hey, ya old fart, this isn't our pooch, y'know? Why do we hafta pay for this mess!?"
"'Cuz he's with YOU, obviously! Who else is gonna cover my losses, huh!?"
"Iunno! His owner, maybe? That... What's-her-face... Ell... Elm... Ellen... Ellenweed...?"
"Wait... You sayin' this monstrosity belongs to that snooty old bag on the outskirts of town?"
"Yeah, yeah! That's the one! The wrinkly old lady, in the big house. We were just supposed to walk this little guy when he suddenly took off and caused all this."
"Hmm... Well, whatever! I'm cleanin' this up, then going over to that old bat and getting paid for the damages her mutt caused. Count on it! Now you three scram! Go on, get!"
"Jeez, don't get yer winky in a knot, we're goin', we're goin'~ C'mon boy, follow Brandy~"

It eappaeared Brandy had somehow managed to diffused the situation with the huntsman... By unintentionally selling out the identity of the true owner to Francoise... Which would likely cause some inquiries when the two girls eventually returned with the dog. However, all of those possible consequences seemed to fly straight over the satyr's head, as she pulled the black, not-so-stately-anymore poodle along by the scruff oh his neck. Not before she walked up to Alice's side though.

"You okay, Al?" She asked, looking at the tenderized werewolf before shooting an angry glare at the women standing in a semi-circle around the poor alchemist. "Hey! What's wrong with you aunties!? You don't just go 'round smackin' girls with rollin' pins!" She barked, apparently gentuinely angry at the women.
"Shut yer mouth, skank!" One of the women replied.
"That's right! Y'all caused this mess in the first place!" Another chimed in.
"Just 'cuz ya'll married ugly men who can't satisfy ya doesn't mean ya get to take it on my friend! Now shoo, ya ugly third-rate wenches! If ya got a complaint, go see that Elfenweed-woman or whatever."

A bit more insults and harsh words were said and hurled, before the women eventually grew weary of the satyress' apparently endless stream of rather severe and, somehow, sexually implicating come-backs. Once they dispersed - after having dumped the mud-riddled sheets and clothes ontop of Alice - the satyress let out an irritated snort, then turned to her friend again.

"Them's were some angry ladies, huh? I guess if I'd had a face as ugly as theirs, I'd be kinda pissy too. Still, no reason to take it on a pair of cuties like us, right?"
Druid Girl merely listened to Big Red and the Steppe ARcher talk. She didn't exactly have anything to add to the talk about swordplay and such, considering the girl had never really held an actual weapon in all her life. Still, once the two were seemingly done, and they'd all gotten dressed properly and stood themselves up, she was smiling her usual sunny smile. She didn't even need to tell them to put out the fire and clean up after themselves this time! A small thing, but a thing that brought her a bit of joy nontheless.

"Well, let's get going then." She said, beginning to walk back towards the town. "Honestly, I don't think I'll keep this dagger either. It's nice and all, but..." She looked at her hip, where the little stabby instrument was hanging. "... I don't really think a knife like this is soemthing I'd use. I'd rather have somethuing like a utility knife or so, somethign less for fighting and more for just chores and survival." The girl said.

Honestly, a dagger wasn't realy a useful weapon for her. She wasn't fast or agile enough to get in close and stab an opponent with it, nor did she want to. Preferbly, she'd just need her staff to be able to bonk and clonk the big bads from a safe distance, without having to get their guts all over herself. The walk back to town was largely uneventful though, just as the trek to the riverside. There were a bit more clouds in the sky now though, and a bit of time had passed since they came out into the wild. Noon had come and gone it would seem.

The guards at the east gate greeted them lazily, giving them little more than a glance-over as they returned. One of them had a smarmy grin though, and he gave Big Red a few quickly raised and falling eyebrow-wiggles... Apparently insinuating something... Druid Girl didn't notice though. Their feet took them into Palisad Town, to the commercial district. Here, they'd find the stores and artisans of the settlement. The ideal place to pawn off stuff you didn't want, or find things you wanted to get, upgrade or otherwise. General stores, smiths, fletchers, alchemists, there were a fairly large selection of shops to choose from despite the rather small size of the town itself. Then again, any place with an Adventurers' Guild typically had more variety in shopes than most other places.

"You want to go to a smith and sell the weapons?" Druid Girl asked the lizardman. "Or maybe we'd get more for them at a general store? Honestly, I've never sold weaponry or gear like it before, so I wouldn't know where to go for the best price." The girl said, laughing sheepishly and scratching her cheek with her index-finger.
((Last post before the new year, wooh~))

Well... That was certainly enlightening, and depressing. So Big Red's only reason for travelling and becoming an adventurer was so that he could bring back ways to kill off his fellow lizardmen who didn't belong to the same tribe as him? True enough, humans did the same thing, but with entire kingdoms rather than just local tribes, but it seemed a bit more tragic when lizardmen were already such a minority race in the world. Then again, she wasn't exactly well-versed in how the situation back in their homelands were. Perhaps there was no alternative to fighting for resources? Maybe they had vastly different ideals and/or spiritual beliefs? Who could say, it wasn't her place to judge anyway, so the druid kept her trap shut on the matter. But the thought of Big Red being a 'fun' companion once again came to mind, and was once again sereiously questioned internally by the nature-mage.

Once she was dry enough, the caramel-skinned girl donned her fresh set of clothes, instantly becoming far more relaxed and at ease - having to shield your chest and lower parts from any and every possible angle and direction was annoying, as was always taking care of how and when not to shift or move around. So having clothes back one was a definite relief. At this point, the Steppe Archer had gotten up, stretched and asked about what their next step was, suggesting selling or keeping the sword... Druid Girl didn't care either way, she didn't have any idea of how to properly wield a blade - not like a farmer's family could afford something that fancy. And frankly, dedicating time to studying how to use a sword would eat away at her time to study and learn about nature, so no thanks.

"I'm fine either way. It seemed like a nice sword, so it'd probably fetch a decent price if we sold it. Unless you wanna trade your curved sword instead and keep that new one." The druid suggested-explained-commented. "I don't think there'll be much in the way of quests though. The board was kinda clean-picked when we were there earlier, and they won't post any new ones until tomorrow... Might still be some sewer-crawlers to take though, but I don't really feel like doing one of those after having just bathed and gotten into clean clothes." The druid said, laughing slightly at the absurdity of diving into a place full of, literal, shit and piss right after cleaning herself up.

"What do you think?" She turned to the lizardman. "Should we sell all the things that we found in the cave, or keep some of it? You're at the front of our group, so I wager you'd wanna get some better armor or protection in general, yeah? There're a few blacksmiths over in the commercial district, so why don't we head there first?" She asked and suggested, while rising up and dusting off her legs.
"It'll be fine! It'll be fine~!" Brandy replied to Alice's concern about the possibility of them not getting any payment. Although, judging from the fact that she was laughing while saying it did somewhat suggest that the satyress wasn't perhaps 100% concerned with getting paid in the first place. "We'll catch him, give him a soak and all's goo- Oh! Well... Muds..."

Brandy's later-most words were directed at the fact that Francoise had just taken a turn, run through a narrow alley and passed through the backyard of some of the local dwellings. Why was this bad? Well, some housewives had decided that the weather was nice and thus gone to hang out their laundry in the back... Which Francoise, a very large and very mmuddy poodle, had just decided to run past, at full speed... Brushing against said newly laundered linens... Leaving a grafitti tagging of his presence on most of then. What made this even worse was the fact that many of the laundering housewives were also out back, alongside their now frehsly stained formerly clean clothes, blankets and other textiles... And, they also saw the two girls who were chasing after the culprits.

Needless to ay, it did not take long for angry words to be fired off, followed by enraged shouting and, then to top it all off, some additional chasers - armed with rolling pins - now hurdling after the trio. It appeared that this very simple task had suddenly become unexpectedly complicated, and dangerous, in more ways than one. Brandy, although further ahead of the angered victims of the muddied laundry, was apparently too focused on Francoise to even make much note of their additional, new purusers. That is, until Francoise finally stopped...

... At the market. When he leapt into the stall of the local huntsman, and began chowing down on some of the fine, prime cuts of elk, deer and other wild game that had been put up for sale. Needless to say, the huntsman was as enraged and outraged as the laundry-women, and Brandy waas the first to get an earful when she eventually skidded to a halt infront of the crumpled tables and crates of the meat-stall.

"THE HECK IS THE MEANIN' OF THIS!?" A certain hunter cried out, spit flying from his mouth as froth formed at each edge of said orifice. "[b][i]WHY AIN'T YA KEEPIN' THIS MENACE ON A LEASH!?"/i][/b]
"Maa-ha-ha~ Well, it's not technically our dog, y'see..."
"Uhh... Well... We... were kinda.. taking him for... a ... uh.. walk... And he... sort of... Kinda... Maybe... ran off... on his own...?"
"Maa-ha..... Eatin' your meats... Err, I mean! Down, Francoise! Down! Bad boy! Come here, ya lil' rascal."

Brandy waded into the mess of collapsed furniture and spilled cuts of meat and ... More meat... Leaving poor Alice to catch up and, subsequently, deal with the half-a-dozen-or-so angry housewives, armed with aforementioned rolling pins, that were bringing up the rear. The satyr was now busy trying to wrestle and pull the dog out from his self-appointed smorgasbord buffet.
"Iunno, Al..." Brandy said, squatting down next to the aulderian royal poodle and looking it over. "You think that old bat could even tell if somebody scratched this mutt's belly or behind his ears? How'd she know, right?" The satyress asked, while smirking at the poodle, who in response turned his nose up and snorted, before turning his head in a different direction. "But ya got a point, old crone wanted us to something a certain way, so I guess we gotta do it like she wants, huh?" She added, before standing back up.

However, as soon as the two girls and their ward had walked out of sight of the old Elmswood house, Francoise, who had previously acted like a snooty, pampered and spoiled little brat, suddenly began to act strangely... His raised head lowered, his nostrils began to flare and soon, the dog was running around, bouncing and jumping, chasing after butterflies and diving headfirst into patches of tall grass, wild flowers and ... Unfortunately... A patch of mud...

Rather than being absolutely terrified and abhored by the sudden shift in personality, and the fact that the pooch they were supposed to keep from getting dirty and touched, who was now running amok and behaving like any old run-of-the-mill pup you would find anywhere, Brandy's entire body began to quiver... And then she let out the most jovial laugh you ever did hear, folding forward and wrapping her arms around her own stomach as she laughed so hard that tears were forming at the corner of her eyes.

"Maa-ha-ha-ha-ah-ha-ha~! Whaddya know? The lil' fella cuts loose as soon as he's outta sight of the old battle axe, huh? Maa-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" She roared, with good spirits and humor, seemingly compoletely unphased by this rather disastrous turn of events.

In addtion, after having rolled around on his back in the muddy ditch for a bit, Francoise suddenly stood up, barked energetically and the set off towards the village proper, on his own, as fast as his legs could carry him... Kicking up a small trail of dust as he locomoted ahead like a panicked gazelle, leaving the two girls in the proverbial dust on the little trail. Brandy's laughter subsided, she wiped her eyes and suddenly had a dangerous glint in her eyes, as she also smiled mischievously.

"Oh-ho~? Trying to get a head-start, poochie? No way you're getting away that easily~ Come back here, ya lil' scamp~! Hooooaaaaaaaahh!" Brandy let out a challenging roar, as she dashed off as well, chasing after the runaway hound - leaving another trail of dust behind her as she charged after the dog, with remarkable speed and vigor, while her rather exposed chest bounced and swayed with each step she took - looking like it was about ready to burst out of that snug top of hers at any moment... The dog was heading for the town square it seemed, judging by the prints, and gloops of mud, left behind... Which was also the most busy and densely populated place in the village...!

Oh no~!
The druid sat quiet next to the fire, carefully having placed her newly wasahed clothes far enough away so they wouldn't accidentally catch embers and be set ablaze, but close enough to still slowly dry from the heat provided. She assumed a seated position that allowed her to keep her ... lower region... modestly concealed, while using her arms to shield her, as the drunk man had said: huge knockers, from prying eyes. As comfortable as one can get on dirt and grass, she listened to her lion-haired companion reply to the question she had posed.

Fun, huh?

Not exactly the word that she herself would have used. And while she did like the Steppe Archer, she wasn't sure she found Big Red to be particularly... Fun... to be around... He could laugh, sure, but his overly pragmatic and logical thinking could be... grating... at times. Still, he was undeniably both helpful and beneficial to keep around, and he had been a great force and ally so far. The archer herself was also a great boon, being a very skilled marksman and tracker. They were indeed a well-rounded party, but ... Fun?

The thought of the nomad girl being a mercenary or in the military was a bit of a laugh though. Druid Girl had to stifle a snorting chuckle at the thought of seeing the their little archer in a far too large and baggy military uniform, doing goose marching and saluting people at random. It was a cute, and hilarious, mental image to be sure. Albeit, it was quickly replaced by the thoughts, scenery and feelings about and around that poor red-headed adventurer, and her dead compatriots... A rather somber and depressing sensation.

Still, the perky and plucky nomad managed to bring the mood up again, declaring her apparent dedication to the her new life-path, and then returning the quesiton. Druid Girl smiled and scratched her own cheek with an index-finger, pondering for a bit before answering.

"I became an adventurer so I could travel and see new places, as well as help others. Those parts I do enjoy." She said, with a certain fond and gentle voice. "I'm not too thrilled about the violence though... And some adventurers tend to only think steel can resolve a problem or situation. I've had ... run-ins... with some of our peers who've got that mindset." She smiled, but it was a more forced one now. "Still, as long as we do good, help people and see new places, I'll be happy and enjoy myself enough. Nothing's ever perfect, as pa' used to say, and this sure beats plowing fields and feeding pigs if nothing else." She finished, with a small ginger laugh, remembering her days back at the farmstead, doing all those brain-dead chores day in and day out.

"What about you?" She turned to the lizard warrior. "You've not really told us why you became an adventurer, apart from earning money. But from what I've seen of you, you could've easily landed a job as some rich noble's retainer or bodyguard, or become a top-grade mercenary. Why'd you specifically pick adventuring, if you don't mind
me asking?"

It was a fair question though. From having seen Big Red in action numerous times, not only was he physically strong, but it was clear that he was well-versed in combat and fighting-techniques. He wasn't a fresh-faced, outta-the-rural-village farm boy who'd brought along a hatchet, or a freshly trained, out-of-the-academy novice who thought they were a master swordsman. He was skilled and experienced, and could easily be mistaken for a Steel-rank or perhaps even higher tagged adventurer, so him being the same rank as little old her, a porcelain-tag, was sort of bemusing... Of course, the druid had no doubt that the lizardman would rise through the ranks quickly.
Despite Alice's best attempts at a sale's-pitch, for assuring the old bat about her own and her companion's ability to handle the task at hand, the elderly lady seemed... Unimpressed. When Alice continued to suggest how the old woman should handle her prized pooch though, the werewolf got a very stern and very annoyed glare, the kind that bores a hole right through your soul and it close to having your neck strangled without it actually being physically choked... Apparently the lady Elmswood didn't appreciate others telling her what to do. Or at least not when it came to Francoise.

Unlike the old crone however, when the werewolf-girl gave the small intruder an oppressive aura of imminent carnivore-presence, the little creature squeaked in terror and fled as fast as its tiny little limbs could move it. Brandy, who had been so focused on said rodent, was also taken aback by the dark, looming vibes that her new friend was exuding, and so the goat-girl's ears flopped backwards and her tail hung doown, and she turned her face sideways to look away - while pouting.

"... I wasn't gonna let it get any of the veggies, jeez..." She mumbled, as if she had been scolded by her mom.

Once that whole business was dealt with, Elmswood told Francoise to go with the girls. The dog lazily looked at its owner, let out a discontent snort through its nostrils, then slowly padded over to Alice's side. AAt which point, the old bag shut the door and promptly locked it, with an audible 'click'-sound. As the terrifying harpy had gone back into her nest, Brandy perked back up, and skipped on over to the side of the two dogs. She looked all over, and from virtually every angle - even below - to inspect and get a good look at Francoise, who remained motionless and uninterested in the antics of the satyress.

"Wow, this mutt is like, 'totes blowing us off. First time I've ever seen such a snooty dog." Said satyress said, with a raised, judgemental eyebrow. "You know any place we can go with this guy?" She added and asked, while poking at one of Francoise's poofy-tipped ears.

Of course,t he area around the village was covered in mostly woodlands, and there were numerous small animal trails and paths, not to mention just raw, sparsely forested wilderness to meander about in. There was also the village proper to go and visit, which likely had less mud, muck and dirt that could get on the poodle. There was also the not-too-far-off brook, which was a common favorite place to play for the local kids and fishing-spot for the elderly. There was also the option of just hitting the road and wandering off into the as-of-not-yet-setting sun and see where their feet would take them.
The trek back to the little riverside bank was largely uneventful for the druid. Apart from spotting a playful squirrel dancing about along some tree branches and a few birds flying overhead and singing from their perches, there really wasn't much to note. Upon arriving, she found that her two companions were already at it. Cleaning themselves, that is. Not something else. Of course, it'd be totally okay if they were, it's just it'd been a bit awkward to walk in on a giant, red-scaled lizardman and a petite but athletic nomad girl bumping uglies down by the river...

... Aaaaanyway, enough of that!

It seemed her fellow female was already done bathing though, having huddled up next to the little campfire. Honestly, she still found it a bit unpleasant to strip down to her unmentionables and bathe right infront of a man. A lizard, but a man nontheless. She would do it back home, sure, but those were the village boys she grew up with and knew. And while she didn't have any misgivings or thoughts of Big Red being supsiscious, the fact was that they still really hadn't known one another for very long... Heck! She didn't even know where he came from or anything about his favorite foods, drinks, hobbies or pastimes! But, maybe this brief period of respite was a good opportunity for them all to bond. After all, most of the good quests were all but taken, so they likely wouldn't go on anything dangerous or meaningful for the rest of the day.

With the optmistic thought in her mindspace, she gingerly scurried on over to a bush, where she proceeded to strip down and out of her dirty clothes. She'd left the bundle of clean ones over by the fire, so as to keep them away from the water. She did bring her dirty clothhes with her though, once nekkid that is, and quickly jumped in the far too cool river. A sensation of alarm spread through her body as tahe chilly water assaulted her nerves and senses, and a shiver went up and down her spine.

"... I really need to give that bath house a try..." She murmured wistfully as her body slowly adjusted to the temperature of the wilderness water. After which, she got to cleaning her dirty clothes - as best as she could - using small stones, branches and repeated dunking in order to get the worst out. Luckioly, her minimalistic garb had been spared most of the filth that her allies had suffered. Some dirt, some grime, and some specks of blood, but nothing too serious or difficult to wring out.

She glanced around while submerged to her shoulders, looking over at Big Red as he scrubbed away at his manly bod' with reckless abandon... Scrubbing that hard on human skin would not be pleasant, no sirrie! After a bit of washing and taking care of her own, curvy figure, she swam about a bit, though never out of sight of her party. After this mild bit of refreshing leisurely excersise, she emerged - and used her wet, newly washed garments - to shield as much of herself as she could from potential prying eyes.

Joining Steppe Archer by the fire, she sat down next to the other girl. Stretching her arms skywards, she straightened her back and heaved her...bosom... as she let out a content, peaceful 'hmmmmmn~' noise.

"You'd think more people would come to a spot like this." She then said, looking over her shoulder and at the edges of the nearby woods. "It's not far from the town and it's a lot cheaper than having to visit the bath house... Then again, most people probably just go out to one of the wells, fill up a bucket and dunk it over themselves to wash up." A bit of a laugh escaped her, as she recalled how they'd used to do that back in her home village. "So, tell me. Now that you've been on a few of your own, how do you like adventuring? Is it what you expected it to be?" The Druid asked softly and with a friendly smile, looking at her companion sideways. She wouldä've asked Big Red as well, but the big oaf was still soaking out in the river... She'd ask him once he got his scaly butt over and joined them.
"Whaddya mean my people skills need work? I'lll have you know I was real popular back ho- Hey!" Brandy's complaints were summariyl ignored, as Alice moved over and knocked on the front door again. Despite her protests and arm-flailing, it didn't seem she was going to manage to get the werewolf's attention, so with a pouty 'hmph!', she instead moved to inspect the ornate bird bath once again.

Meanwhile, Alice would have to wait a good few minutes, before the door finally creaked open again. A still-scowling elderly Elmswood-woman peered out from the crack, eyeing the beastgirl with slight disdain. After hearing the wolf-girl's little spiel though, the old woman unlatched the chain-lock on her door and opened it more fully. She looked over the little alchemist's shoulder, over at where the goat-girl was busy poking and re-angling her head to get a good look at the yard-decor, before returning her gaze to Alice.

"Yes, I heard your friend the first time." The old buzzard said, with an unfriendly and somewhat condescending tone to her voice."I take it you've read my instructions regarding the request? I mean no offense-" except she clearly did, judging by the way she had her arms folded infront of her and was looking down on ALice as if she was some kind of filthy street-urching. "- but are you sure you two can manage this task? Francoise is a pure-blooded, pedigree Aulderian Royal Poodle, purchased from the Clavenstone Kennels in south-east Aulder." She began to drone on and on about the various merits and signifigance of her prized pooch... Eventually though, after about ten or so minutes of pompous self-blustering, she seemed to finally return to the realm of the present.

"Suffice to say, if you take on this task, you and your friend will both be personally responsible for any and everything that concerns Francoise's well-being and appearance while out. I trust this is abundantly clear, young miss?" The old bat half-asked, half-instructed, half-threatened(?) the werewolf-lass before her.

By this time, the aforementioned Francoise had appeared behind his owner. He was a king-size black poodle, with an almost comedically stereotypical poodle-cut, having puffs of fur on his rear, chest, top of the head, at the ends of the ears and around the ankles of each leg... But pretty much shaved everywhere else.... He had a certain snooty demeanor, standing with his nose held upwards towards the sky, and a stand-offish and arrogant air about him. This was a doggy who was just as full of himself as his owner was it would seem.

"And just so we're clear, you will not be using a leash. Such barbaric instruments could chafe and damage Francoise's neck after all, so make sure you keep a close watch on him. And do not let any of this village's rotten little children put their grubby mitts on him, or else you'll have to spend the rest of the evening bathing him. No feeding him strange or unfamiliar foods either, Francoise is on a strict and carefully regulated diet. And have him back before sundown, in the same condition as he is in now. Do I make myself clear, young missy?" The old battle axe laid on a few extra rules and then bent forward, staring daggers into Alice's eyes, that partly wrinkled and crow-feet-laiden face coming dangerously close to the beastgirl's own face.

... Elsewhere, Brandy had managed to spot a field mouse, and was now happily trying to stalk it while the little rodent stealthily made itws way towardds old lady Elmswood's vegetable garden... Showing no signs of attempting to scare or stop the little critter from whatever mischief it was up to...
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