Herb-scented Log

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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Sat Mar 16, 2019 11:06 am

A Sparking Ember
7/29/341
Today, I scrubbed the stall as usual. Also as usual, something was happening in the square.
Childish antics from appropriately young children. (I worry for them, being in the square.) But that wasn't what stuck out.
What did stick out however, was a priestly man, a preacher of an ideal. A preacher of something that boils in the back of my mind.

Revolution.

Though, at first, he struck me as once a priest, then a mere Godless fool of the square, then eventually a man preaching a word that
appeals to this gnawing want in my head; a change in the status quo. His cult of personality backed him up, and though I tried to make my
point against him, I was dangerously close to being swept in. As though I was of the right mind, but just wasn't quite willing to make the plunge.

It's a good thing I was brought back to reality from the lofty ideals he preached, thanks to Ard bringing reason to it.
A revolution is merely a full turn, and I have someone more important than a system falling down. (In case it wasn't painfully obvious, her name starts with y, ends with o, and she's a Redtail.)
But it continued to gnaw in the back of my mind. I just KNEW that the man, also known as Atticus, or rather, his ideal aligned with mine,
even as I knew where it would go. It reminded me of that time.

When the pamphlet was first posted. Except this wanted true revolution.

I headed for home and swore my prayers to Mercala once more, hoping She would guide me on the right path; to, or away, it mattered little.
Later, I headed into the Dormeho mage's guild. While I was deep in thought (Or simply out in nowhere), Yakin approached me looking
weary, and sounding as such as well when he spoke. When he spoke, though, I grew angry. At first, I was in disbelief, as well as unknowing.
After all, it was just another Imperial in the middle of their Imperial Customs!

But then he continued. My anger drove me to swear as he reminded me she was married to Eisen. She was cheating on him not even a month
into the marriage; as though she went into the holy matrimony with intent of breaking it.
Yakin's breakup on top of that drained him of all the energy to be angry. I don't know anymore. I know why I want this all to change.
We parted ways, and I went back home for real.

It just gets worse, doesn't it?
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Sat Apr 06, 2019 3:28 am

A New Year's Greeting
1/1/342 (Appropriate!)
Today, I took a break from contemplating isolation.
I set out for adventure from the Monastery, drawn by the smell of smoke and the promise of something new.
One boredom driven trip later, and I came across a campfire; the usual source of the smoke, along with a familiar face:
(Though I suppose it's more a familiar mask. Or a familiar hat?)
Walter, reading a book by the fire. I suppose I was overcome with excitement, as I payed little attention to it at first.

First of all, I wondered where he was.

As it turned out, he was on quite the adventure; stuck in Karaten searching for Ian, coming back only to deal with Geistritter business,
which is then juggled alongside his medical and Blades duties. But there was plenty of time to talk with him.

Enough time to start with a casual topic, apparently.

I started by offering news of what happened; news of Silly's attempt at training mistakenly thought as alcohol poisoning
and his asking for chains, a small incident of Imperial Customs and (May her soul be at peace) "Nieves," Fhree's fiancee,
or namely, the funeral. Callie had more of the news, but he seemed famliar with it.

But, what was more interesting and enlightening was what came after the words; "Imperial Customs."

First of all, turns out that they were, in fact, Imperial Customs. Curious.
But then, I was given a book, called "Utopia Fallen," a rather philosophical book. I suppose I should've read it closely,
but it had a profound quote; one that Walter had spoke aloud.
"The Mind is it's own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, and a hell of heaven."
From there, it sparked a thought of mine. About applying it to this world, in that most are making a hell of heaven.
Walter built upon it, saying that people delude themselves into thinking that they were progressing, when in truth they stagnated for
300 years and counting, a heaven of hell. Technology was yet to advance, and socially people only progressed in but one aspect.

After a brief diversion, I then brought up the Emperor; the concept of an eternal ruler being something that fitted this world.
On the topic of theories, then came the topic of information as I spoke of the Emperor's end. How he supposedly died.
According to Walter, however, he never died. This created a brief division, that was then solved as further discussion continued.
Modified books on truths and lies; on truthful sounding lies to convince the masses of a truth while leaving the truth-seekers mocked.

This also helped lead into my theory; the theory of a succession of Emperor actors. At first, it sounded stupid.
But it held merit as it was discussed, how they could dress up the next ruler as the Emperor and claim him as he.
Then came the topic of information manipulation. Yakin's time in prison as an example, Walter expanded upon it, explaining that if
they fail to get the right actor, they can simply change history so it seems like that he was always that actor; the illusion of an eternal king.
It may just be a theory, but it held too much merit to say anything good about the Empire.

Walter then said that it was the fault of Adventurers.

At first, the notion was ridiculous. But he continued, and I found myself listening intently.
Entrust a man with even the slice of the power of the Gods and leave him to his corruption, and you get the adventuring culture of today.
It acts as an active roadblock to proper society, as they could level it at a whim and a thought, and their thoughts often are radical,
Claudia used as an example. I then brought up how we were also examples, in a way, as we believed in a fair and reasonable government
in a world that aggressively defies and often denies reason, rather than the iron fists and chains that restrain the unreasonable minds.

Adventurers are anathema to fair governance. "Sigrogana" might as well be the best we have.
At first, there was discussion of potential for fair governance, in focus restraint. In theory, this would limit the powers of the running fuses,
but as more thought was given, there came a realization; that even if you limit adventurer's potential for power, you can't limit the authority's
potential for abuse, which meant that they could put in their iron fist rule, super-powered loyal dogs at their side.

In essence, Empire II.

The world was terrible because of Adventurers, no matter which way it was spun; thanks to the tools they were given by the Gods.
The point of the God-killer was brought up, in that magic was applied too often to everything.
Not a smart idea to not limit your divine gift and let Man go wild with it.
Magic, being irrational, stifled progress, as it had no explanation save Divinity; in Walter's example, Mercana, which healed through divine magic.
As it is used without thinking, it is taken for granted and other methods are often ignored to solve a problem.
Which also lead into the topic of Mercala, as doctors were brought up as contrast to Mercana; how most priests are doctors and how
her Tenets limit the Gift to desperate situations no salve could save, as it would cause irrational thought to extend to life and death.

The irrational one would want healing for all.

Which also lead to what opposed Mercala to Huggessoa; rationality.
Vampires are beings of irrational nature, their very nature without in-depth research, his magic without explanation beyond the esoetric.
Huggessoa is by nature, irrationality, the opposite of Mercala's rationality.

It took only brief discussion to reach the conclusion.

Leading back into magic, he was undertaking it, so he headed out for time to think, or overthink, it.
But he came to no conclusion, not one within the realm of rationality, so there was nothing to overthink.
This lead back to how magic stifled the world, as it was irrational, leaving only irrationality as the solution to the problem.

Perhaps we're in the world that we deserve. But not everyone deserves this world.
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Fri Apr 12, 2019 8:48 am

Over-Focused
2/16/336
Today, there was a topic.
What if BDPs disappeared? Now, this isn't an entry about my views on it, but rather, what surrounds it.
Truth be told, it started from if world peace was possible and it was the first thing to be brought up.
Talk of resources; in the (very, very long) run, BDPs disappearing means certain materials grow finite, but in turn,
there would be more safety in the world and more safe routes. However, banditry would still exist, as would monsters, adventurers are only a small
part, so on and so forth. The talk continued, but admittedly, it didn't exactly strike me as much as it did when I talked with Walter.

Red (from here on out called Thorn) looked rather off. Like he woke up from a nightmare.
Talk continued, still. On the topic of adventurers; how they are special, how they aren't. If Magic did not exist, or if it disappeared.
It is then that Red collapsed. Of course, I failed to notice. Or rather, I felt that I wasn't able to help then. I was engrossed in conversation
with Taneal in the meanwhile, as Felix assessed his situation.

He was having troubles breathing. Felix had to get the focus free somehow. I had to help.
As Catherine held him still and Felix syringed focus from his system, I went closer; to get a better look at the situation, and to be on standby.
Which was helpful, of course, as I was called upon to help with keeping him stable. My self-doubt non-withstanding, I was ready to help.
Prompted, I intravenously ran Stabilizer through his system; keeping him stable as the focus was drawn from his system. Flowers bloomed...
...But otherwise, all was fine and dandy, for now. Ready to be hauled, I helped in doing so; bringing the man over to the hospital.

His case was curious, but not unique. Focus that had to be re-routed if used in excess; or apparently even at all, as tests had turned out to be
the cause of the predicament. His study of magic, as much as it has saved the lives of others has served to only hurt him.
Though the complete answer was not found, there was certainly rest to be had. Leaving Red to rest, I and Felix soon took our leaves.

I swear I knew him. The man that saved my life before. I can feel a weight lifted off my shoulders.
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Mon Apr 15, 2019 5:38 am

The Motivation
3/7/342
Today, I headed to the Monastery. As usual.
Why is this so important? Well, first, there were people gathered, preparing for a funeral. They were awaiting Father Wilson,
for the ceremony. Or, something I misunderstood. Anyhow, Elvira was talking with Eva about the funeral for Xas (may his soul be at ease)
and of how it was planned. For their sake, I will keep the location memorized, but not recorded.

They left. I was alone. Alone with Vera, not exactly alone with my thoughts, but I made sure I felt alone.
I prayed to Mercala. Wanted peace of mind for mourning the loss of a Vampire; though they were a person nonetheless.
(I'm ashamed of myself. Almost crying over an almost-known stranger someone who was more important than I thought.)
I don't know how long I spent in front of that altar. It felt like forever.

I felt so alone I didn't realize Yaeko was there.

The breeze certainly alerted me to a visitor, but my ever-sharp senses alerted me not to it being Yaeko. (a little help here vera)
She was in a bright and cheerful mood, as usual, as I wasn't, also much to the usual. She wondered about how I was feeling and, of course, I had
to break the bad news. The mood grew heavy once more. I felt myself choking; which I am glad didn't exactly influence enough.
(Of course, the internal screaming certainly annoyed Vera. Well, she doesn't sound nor is she claiming to be, but she's giggling.)
After much "dorking around," Yaeko took me by the hands and gave me another reminder, likely unintentional.

The choice to abandon the Empire. Whether or not I do so, she'll be at my side.
I have to make my choice.
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Fri Apr 19, 2019 3:59 pm

A new Coat
4/7/342
Of all the things to title this after. Ah well.
By any other standard, today was uninteresting. But it's being recorded just so I have a reminder on what I have to do already.
Today begun with my mind being lanced with something embarrassing I did. I am not writing it down; just knowing is pain enough for me.
I forced myself out of bed and into Dormeho. Straight into a black beast attack.
With aid of my medical supplies (a deft hand and pain tolerance as well), Vera's arrows and perseverance, I helped myself through the initial waves, but at much cost to my shirt and coat's cleanliness, and likely causing worry to a passing youth.

She claimed to be from Lispool, according to Snoot, and she aspired to be a knight. In my usual manner, I accepted the offer to protect.

After a battle that involved administering Sal Volatile to a rather unlucky fellow, patching him up then myself, the attack seemed to fade. During the clean-up, conversation was made, first upon her entrance to "Sigrogana." Lulu was an aspiring Church Knight, one with more youth, naivete and spark than experience and knowledge of combat, which was why she headed for that place. Of course, I had to inject my opinions of the square, once the people began to head out of their homes. Talk of her aspirations came forth, but Soot, in her energetic manner, helped get her on track into the present.

It reminded me of someone.

After elevating her, through the string of convenient coincidences (thanks Soot), soon I gave bread to the little knight-to-be.
Soon, came time to decide on where to stay for the night. Or rather, how to get a foothold in s̸̨҉i͞҉̷g̨͟ this place.
Talk of inns turned to talk of dedication to the family; something I wish I could be familiar with. Which then went back to Inns, along with an unintended jab at a supposed fear of being alone. Which, then also lead into talk of Cellsvich. I can't believe I mentioned Imperial Customs, but I felt like I just had to. Of course, moving on, Soot gave her the responsibility talk, one that Lulu understood rather well, at least, I hope so.

Also moving on, came the topic of work.

First up was woodcutting, which Soot had brought up herself. I worried the whole time that I might get called crazy if I mentioned the spirits of the
forests (doriads), however, the dangers were still outlined. Farming, too, which was brought up as a safer line of work, then came Fishing; the work which I was currently engaging in as the talk continued. Soot paid the girl some coin, she asked Alex for rod and bait (presumably),
and soon she was off to the first step of fishing. Baiting. The most terrifying part of fishing; for the squeamish.

She was squeamish, and felt rather sorry for the worm.

Something had to be done about this. A tale had to be spun, motivation had to be made! And so, Soot had provided a fun fact, one I wish I had been
able to bring up sooner. The inability for worms to feel pain. This was then justified through Jammers themselves also being unable to feel pain,
merely consuming for the sake of consuming as well. After Lulu was finally motivated enough to cast her line, Soot begun to weave her tale!
(Could've used a lute, for the full bardic experience.)
Of jammer-worms, of fish, of the druidic axe Gnarlheart and the spear blessed by Mercala Herself (presumably) Starkiller!
But then came the problems of getting the first catch somewhere. I headed to the smithy to get myself a bucket, and after some time I had returned
with a fresh bucket, ready for storing fish. Soot regained composure as I dropped the bucket off.

Then the contest began, and with it, it brought more people to the dock.

Of course, with it came the topic of portals again, and a rather metallic fellow responded with a question of distrusting portals.
Which then dredged up something; Lu's mother was sick from the void. To say it distressed me was an understatement.
But I kept my cool, even if it meant that I traded in my tact when asking the question. A voice I vaguely recognize then responded that begging
would mean better money, to which Soot brought up her aspirations of being a Knight some day. The almost familiar person then recommended the
Arena; where the "Trent" person he mentioned could teach her about spearsmanship. Which also lead into the not-very-wonderful topic of the dangers of strangers. It was kept at that.

The fishing contest ended, trophies and tokens were handed out, and a new thing for letters home was added, along with another goal and aspiration.
Of course, things got rather dark, which then prompted Soot to go back to the topic of lodgings. The tokens had to be explained as not Murai, though
they were handed out. Which went to the topic of potential prizes, and diving helmets. A brief one, as it quickly went back to enough money for the
inn stay, as well as which inn to go to. As everything quieted down, I realized I should've helped out at the clinic.

They cleared after I was done doctoring, hopefully to go rest.

I went back to the Monastery, definitely to go rest. And then, I wondered why I felt so happy. Then I came to the answer.
I just need that ring. But could I balance it on top of everything else? That's for me to find out.
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Tue Apr 23, 2019 11:09 am

Behind The Mask
5/5/342
It feels like every time Walter comes along, things are important. Or, what he has to say is, anyway.
For today was uninteresting. I got out of bed, cleaned the Monastery up a bit, and was preparing herbs for planting when I heard a tapping.
A face that I never saw, yet I swore was familiar was there. The hair, I suppose, was the only familiar part and only in the color.

The look in his eyes, the grin on his mouth, the only thing that I could recognize was his manner and speech.

At first, though, I was fooled. Played like a fiddle. Briefly, of course, as he soon revealed that he was Walter.
Walter wondered how I was, as usual. I gave him how I felt; as though I was juggling two important things.
This, of course, had less priority than how jarring it was to see him as he was. But eventually, came to the subject itself.

How do I juggle my life?

Well, I didn't put it as simply as that. I explained how I was almost engaged, yet also was a potential candidate for getting drafted into the Mallus
campaign. He was proud of me for it, perhaps because I walked forward instead of enjoying my little hole. Unfortunately, the same could not be
said for the engagement to be. With all the cheesy lines I had in my head, I truly wasn't prepared to make that step forward. He knew.

Even as he said how he'd do it, that look of his said more than anything.

And he asked if it was daunting to me. I affirmed him, in my usual manner. Also in my usual manner, I said something that I regret.
Moving on, he said something rather personal, something that I knew deep down.
I am a creature of rationality and logic, rules and principle.
But I must do things that don't seem to make sense to get to better places. Whether it's because the world is irrational or the actions only make
sense later, that's my conclusion to draw. In the end, though, I am the only one that can control my decisions.

After the conversation lightened up and the lessons concluded, he said something that rang in my head.
But should I truly embrace this world as it is?
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Sun Apr 28, 2019 10:44 am

In the Badlands, then to the Arena...
6/9/342
Black Swan's Initiative
Today, I suppose not a lot happened in the grand scheme of things. Well, save a recruitment initiative, and a discovery.
I jumped through the portal to Cellsvich (not literally, of course; jumping would complicate the teleportation process) and landed straight in a somewhat confusing situation.
Confusing to me, anyhow. I was possibly hallucinating it, but I saw two familiar people in a familiar hat. Another was in disguise.
Of course, I also spotted a familiar knight whose name I have trouble forgetting; Tosseau. I asked him for explanation, but it seems that he had nothing.

With that in mind, and with an awkward situation out of the way, I made my way back to the stall, as the chain lich peddled squid.

Tosseau marked it off his (mental) list, as the act continued. A more casual topic was brought up; what he was up to, to which he responded with what he was, indeed, up to. One of those being recruitment. He was finalizing everything; promoting, getting a command structure, running tests on seige weaponry, building medical wards, officers and arranging furniture, making for quite the stacked tower of preparations for the siege on Mallus.

Among the men required, doctors and general medical staff were still required.
I, of course, offered to take up the position (If needed, of course,), also being told of a familiar-sounding person joining him
in that same span of time. A demolitionist asked what was going on, to which Tosseau replied with the goal of his organization.

The Lich, demonstrating something of an innocence, was rather enthusiastic, like a green adventurer hearing of a Black Door trip.
The demolitionist mentioned that they were in fact an expert in the field of demolition. (Hence the title.)

There was a warning of course; that it was in fact a siege, and not a simple trip to the local Black Door. Death, or extreme injury, was a given.
However, this shook their resolve not. Pricing was negotiated, pins were passed and new recruits joined the Black Swan.
Something was still put into question, however; the fact that demolition could turn the city of Mallus into a crater.
Cleared up, of course, as Falset (the demolitionist) seemed to be only slightly annoyed by the fact she can't blow the place up.
Thankfully, she also has medicinal skill, lightening the load somewhat on my shoulders, but still, I was on the list for physician in chief.

Then came the Lich, who in all his questionable intelligence and thinking, managed to be ominous as he, too, became part of the Black Swan.

The square soon returned to usual square activity, everyone dispersed, and I eventually followed Tosseau (and Lux) to the arena.
Unforeseen Discovery
I entered the arena, legs well-worked. In an attempt to test my memory, I decided to greet everyone I knew by name.
(I only got Tosseau and Winter on the first try.)
In the middle of a rather awkward conversation, of course. Thankfully, it went to a more wholesome topic as I went to take my seat.
Wholesome being an ensuing spar and better books. But this shift only came after I mistook the talk of Onigan Comics for Imperial Customs.
Yakin, of course, rode on in, on his steed. With his presence came the revelation that he had a taste in literature. Not truly a revelation,
but, another came when the Chain Lich, after fumbling a bit with his words, brought up a book of dystopian nature; one with book burning.

Yakin then talked about a novel that I wish I had read. Or if I did read it, I remembered.
It was, put shortly, about a world where people are destined from birth and designed from birth for the roles they will take, controlled
with chemicals and drugs that reduce them to base desires. Where Love, even as a concept, isn't, where Marriage is merely a thing of the past, where everyone calms down and takes their drugs. (Quiet down, Robin, drink some Tea...) Where the first protagonist gets sent to a colony in Lordwain so "free-thinkers" stay to develop technology for the society, the other becoming disillusioned with society to the point of isolation, eventually, after twists and turns, gathers a following that soon gets involved in an exhibition of flagellation and self-harm.
He then kills himself out of disgust.

Courageous new land, isn't it just grand. Hopefully it isn't our future.

After continuing to discuss the piece of very Lispoolian literature, a strange verbalization sounded out.
Of course, nobody understood. I pondered alternate means as the cause acted aggressively. By the power of vague body language (and overpreperation), I stopped a sign used to communicate from getting stolen. Unfortunately, it was not enough to get over the language barrier, as writing proved that there was indeed one. A white-horned man obliged her on their then-unknown request to spar.
I then kept my eyes on the spar that they appeared to have wanted; thankfully that was understood.

The duel ended rather quickly. The fumbling, did not. Thankfully, though, my first efforts did help, as I was thanked. (in Onigan.)
On initiative, she also used the power of Laplace to communicate. In return, I was also able to communicate. So began a conversation that broke down the barrier, even just a little bit. I had my questions about them, but for the sake of friendly conversation, I kept them to myself.
(And also paranoia. What would happen if certain people were to find out her nature?)
Speaking of breaking down the barrier, I tried my hand at tutoring her; mostly by teaching Hello, Goodbye and in desperate cases;
I can't speak Common. The words were garbled, but they were at least understandable. Then came listening, which was at a time where the conversation was currently at its most wordy, causing a brief case of a fever-like state. After continued conversation passing by, she departed with a garbled goodbye, and I returned it as well.
In dire need of rest, I made my way home as well, a thought brewing in my head.

Had I made a new discovery, or was this simply an oddity among a known race?
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Sun May 12, 2019 12:09 pm

At this point...
9/22/342
...I don't know anymore.
I'm stuck between choosing to just retire to a quiet married life, and my vague duties.
Stuck between giving up on what I think of at times as a lost cause, and doing what most definitely is running away.
Not to mention that my own conscience mocks me at every turn. So hard, in fact, that I temporarily lost the motivation to go outside.
It took time, and much pressure, to make myself go outside for the first time in weeks. (I still hate myself.)

I just don't have the motivation to write much down. The date (Maybe?) with Yaeko was nice, even if she reminded me again of how why I'm torn in half in the first place. The view from the port was nice. Let's keep it at that. The black beast interruption was not. Thankfully, the militia kept us safe. Still, had to evacuate, just in case. I had an encounter with a vaguely familiar face. More familiar to Yaeko than me, it appeared.

To put it simply, the situation they were in was dumb. Familiar in its dumbness. Not really much to comment on.
Or much that came after that. I'm not sure what happened after it all. Maybe I'll remember by tomorrow.

Truth be told, the only thing that could be called noteworthy was the question; Stay or Leave?
Even if I answered it to myself before, I still wonder. Wonder, and worry.
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Fri May 17, 2019 3:05 pm

Hunting Retrievers
10/22/342
I was well-rested for the first time in days, today.
I took my fishing rod, my icebox, and excessive amounts of bait with me as I went to Dormeho. As I fished, I came across a passionate conversation, between an aggressive girl, and a Mechanation that seems fine being dulled, later a fish-girl. At first, I eavesdropped, because I felt as if I had nothing to input. But as soon as the girl said something quite intriguing; of memory loss, I began to pay a bit more attention.

Then, with the words; "Just, being forced into something with your memories held at ransom,"
I pitched in. But mostly about the profanity. (Which the Fish-Girl later repeated.)

I might have interrupted something. But I did my best to input on the topic, as, for reasons unknown, the Mech Hunts are still happening. Long enough, and deeply rooted enough to have an obfuscating name to make it sound more benign. The Mechanation wanted to leave, because of "disturbance," but goodness knows what would happen if she did. The girl picked up on it, and responded with the appropriate question; what if she stayed, because of a possible black beast attack?

The rarely predictable nature of the attacks helped.

After more time and more self-doubt, the attack eventually happened. With the motivation to stay and a strange sort of luck in the air, everyone
readied themselves, myself and Vera included. The attack was repelled, morale was bolstered and wills were strengthened. Points were proven, the Mech made a promise, and reunions were had. (Goodness, I need a break...)

A personal reunion, on my end. Alex came up to me during all of this.

After the event passed, Alex asked about Yggdrasil, and if it was still open. It was, and I answered such. Then, he said if he wanted to catch up.
I answered yes, and we entered the bar. What I saw was Yakin and some sort of misfortune seeker. Both were getting ready for a drinking contest. It made an inappropriate backdrop, but one nonetheless for the discussion of the Black Swan. Notable was the new recruits; a teddy bear, Gowwel and another Gowwel, but with sense to do unspeakable things, as well as something else coming up; about Freya. (...Finally.)

I need to confront my shame. Hiding is not a good thing to do when I've got lives in my hands.
Last edited by FancyCyclops on Sun Jul 14, 2019 9:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Herb-scented Log

Post by FancyCyclops » Sat May 25, 2019 2:10 pm

A Bid for Charity
12/24/343
Today, I went to a bid, and left with my faith in humanity damaged (further).
It all started when I went to the square. Out of the loop as usual, I asked what was going on. A swordsman(?) told me about the auction,
and I was off. Well, not that how I got there mattered.

I entered. I beheld. I lost hope.

The first thing I heard of note when I entered the bidding arena was something about a pants mobius strip.
The second is about fox girls. Third of note was the bid. I needed a drink. Serenity tried to soften the blow by saying it was time for money,
but I knew better than anything that it was not the case. What, with Gwen being Gwen in the background, with Atlas being Atlas on the foreground,
and what have you. The beginning is, even if I have noted it, was not noteworthy.

Suppose that there was at least one notable Auction.

An auction for what looked like, sounded like, acted like and I'm pretty sure was a child in a nurse outfit was on stage.
Serenity made her bid. Mercala bless her for that. Atlas made his, too. The bids began, Atlas raising as Serenity did.
They continued to trade blows, each bid growing exponentially larger! Eleven-thousand! Fifteen-thousand! Sixteen-thousand!
Twenty-thousand from a newcomer, then thirty thousand from Serenity once more! Forty-thousand, then the newcomer bid fifty-thousand!
As though reminding them of their place, Atlas made his bid of one-hundred thousand. Serenity one-upped them, going for one-hundred and fifty-thousand. She dared Atlas to keep going, leading the bid to two-hundred thousand. Going once, going twice, the money needed to be pooled. And so, Serenity bid three-hundred thousand. Atlas relented. The newcomer passed Serenity his share of the money needed for the bet.

All is good in the world.

The next auction was for a Nemesis. How they presented themselves was more of a mercenary than a date. For reasons unexplained, there were still bets made. Or, perhaps, it was Atlas. It was as though he was manipulating others into bidding. But I payed little attention after that.
The first bet was twenty-thousand. It ended at sixty-three thousand.
Notable bets were those of a Black Battler and Leigh. I was not in the mood to make comment. The Battler won, saving the Second Nemesis from Atlas.

Finally, the auctioneer was up.

But I just wasn't in the mood to care, nor pay much attention. Ly, closing off the night, was bid on.
Thousand from the Fisherman. Two-thousand from the newcomer. Five-thousand. Then, twenty-five thousand from Atlas.
Even if he apparently already won, he didn't relent. The fisherman bet thirty-thousand, Atlas one-upping with thirty-five.
Barely one-upping, the Fisherman went for thirty-six thousand, Atlas then going for forty-thousand. Forty-five...
...Then, Atlas finished with fifty-thousand. A person of silver bet fifty-five-thousand, truly finishing it off. (Not much attention, not no attention.)

Atlas and Gwen continued being themselves.

It was at this point that the little nurse spoke to me. Mostly about why I was frowning, and why I was down. I feel bad for worrying the lass.

It all calmed down after that. The pot was very heavy with murai, as it had around one-million and three-hundred thousand murai's worth of currency in there. After the auction, I went to make a normal donation. Three-hundred thousand more into the pot.
I headed off, back to the square, back to the stall.

Then, after talking to a rather happy Ard, I headed back home. How much did I value duty? I should reserve more time for the ones close to me.
Soon.
Last edited by FancyCyclops on Sun Jul 14, 2019 9:47 am, edited 1 time in total.
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