Turn 1, Throwing Oneself Into ThingsEmilia, not one to despair when smelling strongly of horse and horse byproducts, decided to get up, get out and find a fountain, and hopefully some people she could talk to and build some connections with - those were always useful, especially in the central parts of the kingdom. One never knew the significance of townspeople around here, that was for sure.
Walking down the streets was not much of an experience as far as those went - the town offered little in terms of sights to see, mostly just squat buildings, more roof than walls, and very lowly-looking people wandering about. Looked like this was not a very affluent place. Indeed, it looked like it was in a state of advancing degeneracy, like many other central Allochthonian towns of its ilk, which, deprived of much of the trade that formed their lifeblood, were slowly falling into ruin. Fortunately, this town did indeed have a fountain in its main square, right next to a statue of Bantuk the Orc Strangler that looked to have seen better days. The fountain itself did not exactly work wonderfully, and Emilia had the feeling that its workings were currently in the process of slowly clogging up, but she found the water adequate to freshen up for the night ahead of her.
With that done, she turned to look at the dismal foot traffic of the town, and listen to what they were saying, but could hear rather little. So she decided to approach a particular man walking listlessly down the street.
"Why, hello there, my good man," she said to the fellow, trying to look as friendly as possible - it seemed to be working rather well.
"Hrp?" the grunted surprisedly, presumably unsure of why a lady such as Emilia would freely address him on the street.
"Z'there something I can help you with?""You see, I am new here, sir, and I was wondering if there was anything I could do for potential gain around here," Emilia said. The man did not seem overly compelled to help her.
"Ain't much demand for vagrants 'round here, 'm afraid," he said, his left eye twitching a little.
"Are y' any good with a loom?"* * * * *
Edwin, though not entirely pleased with the way he was now going to have to brave the roads of Allochthon at night, did try to reassure himself as he slowly rose himself from the now quite uncomfortable spot by the tree.
"Oh dear, oh dear, I seem to have dozed off again. Better to keep going now, a walk underneath the starry sky will do me good," he said his thoughts out loud, as older and more absent-minded individuals were wont to do, and, after picking up all his things, went on his merry way, pressing on southward, hoping that some form of shelter would be found before too long - the nights often became uncomfortably cold at this time of year. Orienting himself by the setting sun, he found the road easily enough, and headed off.
After several hours of walking southward, Edwin saw little other than deep forest and the long and winding road onward - the wilderness around him, unfortunately, refused to become interesting in any way to help pass the time, and he was left to do that most desperate activities to keep his spirits up - whistling. His tuneless whistle echoed in the woods as he went forward, serving to only magnify the profound sense of loneliness that being alone on a road at night invariably created, and he soon reconsidered this distraction. He eventually came to a sign - it was quite dark at that point, but not exactly pitch black enough for the thing to have been unreadable - examining it, Edwin realized that it was pointing to three different things - the road ahead seemed to lead to "Yungor, twenty four or twenty five miles away", while the road back seemed to lead to "Yert, nineteen miles away". And another branch of the road sign appeared to point toward a nearby overgrown trail - the name on it seemed to be scratched out, but the distance was visible - "three miles".
* * * * *
"Ahh, damnation, I have to drink less when I have a bit of coin. Oh well, from the looks of it the lot was well spent, or well stolen," Brennus said his thoughts out loud, as lonely rough men from the wilderness were wont to do, and decided to make use of one of his new friends, grabbing a random passed-out fellow and shaking him roughly awake.
"You. Tell me everything you know about last night!" he growled at the man, who growled right back. Brennus, not one to take such treatment from a smaller drunk than himself, threw the man away and continued on his quest, seizing another, hopefully more useful drunkard, and asking him a question after the customary shake.
"Local news! Spill them, drunkard!" he asked, more coherently and meanly than of the previous one. This proved to be a winning strategy, as this drunkard did mumble something about a hanging yesterday. Convinced that this man must be well-versed in lore from his answer, Brennus shook his hungover oracle some more, asking another question.
"Knobby gravestone mountains! Tell me everything!" he asked gruffly, and his friend mumbled something about broken fingers. Probably the Broken Fingers, actually. That did make a bit of sense, actually, and Brennus, still holding the wise man, pondered on what to ask next.
"Mountain towns! What do you know!" he shouted at the man after a most vigorous shake, but the drunkard did not provide anything in the way of a particularly intelligent answer, apart from mentioning checking a map irritably. Tired of being shook, the man started kicking back at his huge new friend, and Brennus, not very moved by this display, merely stood and thought about his next course of action.
* * * * *
Wilhelm, while not sure how he got here, did know how he wanted to leave - in style, now and forever.
"Wait a second, where am I? Ah well, it's not the strangest place I've woken up in... A bit later than I'd like though; it's gonna be tough getting invited to places if it's too dark for people to see me. I'll just have to be extra sure that I stand out then, won't I?" he said his thoughts out loud, as men with highly unstable multiple identities were wont to do, and decided to check the wardrobe for appropriate evening wear. Or, rather, the inappropriate sort of evening wear that made one the toast of the town no matter the merits of one's wit and social ability. Unfortunately, whoever had stocked this closet had been a hideous bore of a human being, and no flashy outfits were available - only dull brown coats, darkish pantaloons, sizable straw hats with no feathers of any sort and more.
Perhaps he could try to masquerade as an overly friendly and rural goat salesman who ironically did not even have any goats? He had never tried that before, but he was sure it could not be overly difficult.
* * * * *
Derek was not happy with waking up on a roof - while the view was great, the potential for hideous trauma -
asymmetrical trauma, even, like a broken left hip, which he was not sure he could in good faith replicate in a pinch on the other side - was far too present to let him truly enjoy it.
"Arse!" he grumbled half to himself, half to cruel fate, exactly like normal people were wont to do, and the words gave him strength to rise and move to the edge of the roof, from where he could work on getting down - and, being the great multitasker he was, he decided to roll this task and his daily allotment of preaching all into one package that he would proudly display to all the world from on high.
"Friends! All ye who pass! Behold: for I am naked, as wantonly naked as the day I was born. God doth approve of this - for He is a jovial God, and in his jovialness he has shown his approval by hoisting me upon yon roof, in a jovial trick! Come listen, and come witness my nudity, and the strength of my faith!" he began proclaiming and testifying with all of his might waving all the limbs he could expressively at passersby to attract attention - fortunately, this was exactly the sort of thing that grabbed minds of all walks of life, and the people of the village, impressed by Derek's presence, gathered to gawk, to talk and, most importantly, to listen as he spoke! And how he spoke was, of course, of critical importance - only through great persuasiveness could one manage to attract onlookers to stand directly beneath a naked cripple on a hot thatched roof. But when they realized what was about to happen, Derek had already put his plan into motion, and thrown himself off the roof!
[Onlooker dodge roll: 8]
[Derek's landing roll: 8]
Fortunately, none were squished by the plummeting prophet, and Derek himself was hardly hurt - a little bruised, yes, but the dirt-covered, muddy nature of the ground below aided him admirably in cushioning the fall, as did the fact that Derek landed squarely on his bottom in a fit of wisdom and managed to transition almost fluently into a roll - at the end of it, he was a tad dirty, but the crowd surrounding him certainly looked a tiny smidgen impressed, that was for sure.
Emilia: 5 MP
Edwin: 5 MP
Brennus: 5 MP
Wilhelm: 5 MP
Derek: 5 MP
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Topic: Birth of a Deity: Turn 17, Multitudinous Failures of Words (Read 25812 times)