Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2017 21:50:55 GMT -5
I don't really need like... input or any sort of response here, but I wanted someone to see it, wanted to share a little of the context that makes this feel sexist as hell and it's frustrating. Really, really frustrating.
After my last Aide had an elf screaming about how she was fucking undesirables (him, falsely, I might add), I got tired enough and she was emotionally fucked up enough to kilelr herself (Tiv, my pc) after the events here in quick succession. I don't know how much of this is staff and how much of it is players deciding to 'make the world come alive' by animating vnpcs to make lewed blowjob motions and animating vennant to FALSELY say that a character was fucking/trying to fuck someone, or the dwarf whose every statement was 'whore', I thought someone should at least see this in context.
Log below:
The _ has arrived from the north.
Glancing up, you say to the _ in sirihish:
"Evening."
The busy woman with silvery eyes looks relieved.
The _ has arrived from above.
Pleasantly, the _ says to the very tall figure in a desert-camoflauged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Evening."
The _ walks north
A few, rowdy soldiers, late in departing for patrol, make lewd, obscence gestures of fists near mouths and tongues picking at cheeks in the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's direction. They leave shortly thereafter.
As she looks into the fire, you say to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"I'm pretty sure I'm not made for having 'a mate' and pushing away everything else that makes me happy. I doubt that would change just because the mate in question did."
Amusedly, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"The thing that makes my gut clench with suppressed laughter is that you say that as if you weren't already as close as could be with me, without the sex."
Motioning gently toward the departing soldiers, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"That and the soldiers that just suggested I should get ya to blow me. Both make me suppress my laughter."
Lifting one shoulder, you whisper to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster in sirhish:
"Meh."
The very tall figure in a desert-camlouflaged sandcloth duster chuckles throatily.
The busty woman with silvery eyes slowly worries your sleek ebon chain suspending a dark ruby back and forth between her fingertips as she stares into the fire.
(The busy woman with silvery eyes looks through rather than at the fire, with the distance expression of someone whose thoughts are a million leagues away.)
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"Don't worry so much. And don't think on such things so hard. You do what makes you happy, because it's a fleeting thing, mmm. I can respect that, and there's nothin' wrong with it."
Simply, you whisper to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster in sirhish:
"Not gonna happen. Not here and now. Not with shit the way it is. Not with random fuckin' soldiers laughing at me. None of it."
You stand up. rolloing up slowly to her feet.
Gently, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to you, in sirihish:
"They were laughing at me, you know."
(The busty woman with silvery eyes' skirt pulls open to give the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster a lengthy glimpse of perfect unmarred white thigh as she moves to rise, splitting nearly to her hip.)
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's eyes linger on your thigh of their own accord briefly.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to you, in sirihish:
"...silly..."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"...but accurate..."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says, in sirhish:
"...things."
The busty woman with silvery eyes doesn't actually move to walk off when she straightens, though she does listen to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster quietly.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I don't know what to say."
The busty woman with silvery eyes looks quietly to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster for the longest.
You notice: The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster looks up at you.
You sti down, sitting beside the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster again.
The _ man sends a telepathic message:
"I like your collar."
(With the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster watching her and the heavy and uncareful resettling, your polished bone stud crowning the hairless apex of the busty woman with silvery eye's thighs is only for the briefest moment glimpsable by the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, due to where she moves to sit when the skirt shifts.)
You notice: The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's lips quirk up at the edgs, faintly.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Thank you. I thought it was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen, and spent two weeks working to afford it. It's worth it... still one of the prettiest things I've ever seen."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak looks you over carefully.
(You look up at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.)
_
_
_
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak is in excellent condition.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak is uing:
_
_
<primary hand> an obsidian halfsword
<secondary hand> a dujat-tooth longknife
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
You notice: The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster looks up at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.
Tilting her head, you ask the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Can I help you?"
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stands up.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster pushes up, squinting.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster draws an ivory-hilted, slender halfsword.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stops using his dusty gurth-shell round shield.
Gesturing with a sharp snick of his djuat-tooth longknife, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Gimme the necklace."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster holds his dusty gurth-shell round shield.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster beings guard you.
Cackling, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak asks the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Gonna fight for some silky wench?"
You stand up, rolling up to her feet after the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
As if it were such a hard thing to decide, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Don't have much choice, afraid. Ya had to do this publically, and if I don't, afraid it's her boss kills me, or you do, mmm?"
Exhaling, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Ya didn't make the decision easy for me, eh?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Should be in Red's. Not in the Gaj."
The _ man has arrived from the north.
Unbothered, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Hand't over, I got mouths to feed."
The _ man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his black leather belt.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says ot the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Mmmmmm..."
Before a medium-sized flickering fire, the _ man sits down.
The _ man gets his bloodied pair of firm, segmented antennae from his small bag.
The _ man begins crafting.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak asks, in sirihish:
"MMmm? Got sommin' in yer mouth?"
The busty woman with silvery eyes makes no move but to step closer to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
With a sharp gesture of his dujat-tooth longknife, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Got more'n enough, dolled up like ya some concubine. Gimme the necklace."
Reaching up briefly, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster closes his rag-stitched, shard-buttoned satchel.
The _ man looks over to the _ man.
Pressing in toward you, even with the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster before you, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"If he poisons me, cures in that satchel over my shoulder there."
(The busty woman with silvery eyes gives the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster a quiet nod.)
The busty woman with silvery eyes gives the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster a small dip of her chin.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged duster butts, his dusty gurth-shell round shield gently against the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's dujat knife, stepping well in the way.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Trust me fella, this ain't a pot ya wanna reach into to retrive the tart."
Rolling his eyes, the short and thick figure ina hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Y'aint no good for her. Get the fuck outta here. Just want a necklace. Got mouths to feed."
In a ruffled grunt, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak asks, in sirihish:
"Gimme. Somethin'. Or I'll slice ya faces off. Then how'd her boss like 'at?"
The _ man shrugs before turning back to a medium-sized flickering fire.
Amused by his own joke, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Y'd be faceless and feckless."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Then work in the damn field like the rest of us. I've had it up to fuckin' here, with death threats this last week, stump."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster makes a sharp motion with his bloodied ivory-hilted, slender halfsword, a brief swipe right above the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's short stature.
(The busty woman with silvery eyes edges back a little further behind the ver tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, eyes wide, but not making to move much otherwise.)
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Whose your boss?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak is unaffected by the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's testing stab. The glimmer in his eyes is one of hunger.
Repeating it, desperate, eyes all for you, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirhish:
"Need't eat. Got mouths to feed. Gimme. The. Fuckin'. Necklace."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I ain't workin' to get in any skirts. You got a mouth to feed? Ya want food, park your ass by the fire, and ya'll be fed, but ya ain't touchin' her necklace."
As she looks over, you say to the _ man, in sirihish:
"Borsail."
The _ man stands up.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"C'm'at me then. See how fast she tails it outta here. She ain't care none fer ya."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirhish:
"Ya fool. She's a Borsail whore. Get the feck out before the militia comes in."
Snickering with a mouth full of yellowed teeth, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Just wantsta slum it with ya. Feel dirty for a bit."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the short, lithe man, in sirihish:
"Don't care. Got mouths. She's dresst like she can let the necklage go."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcltoh windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Sids. A ring."
The _ man slowly walks over to busty.
Lifting his dujat-tooth longknife and pointing it squire to where you cowers behind the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, teh short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Gimme somethin' to hawk so I can feed m'mouths, y'dumb wench."
The _ man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his black leather belt.
Quietly, you say to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"You want the ring the corporal gave me or the necklace the templar gave me?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Toldja ready. I want the feckin' necklace. Don't want yer corporal mate's ring, wench."
The _ man asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"How much to get ya to feck off? A small?"
The _ man begins guarding you.
Cackling a vicious sound, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the short, lithe man, in sirihish:
"Ain't yer concern, pappy."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"nervousness"
Without a hint of mercy or fear, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace. Er I'll bleed everyone dry."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I'm making it me concern. She's a Borsail aide."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak glares at the rest of the people around the firepit.
Easily, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Guess those mouths ain't so hungry after all, eh?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the short, lithe man, in sirihish:
"Don't care. She ain't an advisor, eh? Ain't matter none to me. She looks too rich for her britches. Or her whore skirt."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Ain't Borsail feedin' ya enough? Be a shame if they thoughtcha was sleepin' 'round."
Slowly, the _ man draws an obsidian shortsword.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak waits, with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster shouts, in sirihish:
"Ey, soldier, ya mind helpin' with a cheeky cunt'f a stump tryin' to stick up folks back here?"
The _ man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his black leather belt.
Unaffected by the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's plea for mercy, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Your loss if you don't go now."
You now follow the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
Still on edge, the word still a threat, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Necklace."
The _ man sheathes a slender bone skinning knife.
Adoping a defensive stance, _ man draws an obsidian longsword.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster exhales slowly.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak waits. And waits. And waits. And still is menacing your wracked silent form from in front of the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sancloth duster stays firmly between you and the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, as best he can, watching him intently.
Taking a step FURTHER off behind the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, where she'd already sidestepped, the words soft, you say to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I'm not giving you the necklace."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"C'mat me then. Save yer busty wench."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I just want to eat some feckign food. I'll pay you a small and what I have ib me bag here to go."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak was in front of the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster the WHOLE time and was menacing still by wagging his daggers at you.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Ya want me to stab ya so that soldier over there comes a trompin' in and kicks my ass, don't ya? Naw, cheeky lil' cunt. Ain't happenin'."
Prodding closer toward the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged duster, knife within reach, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Ain't nuff."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Then let me get my fuckin' necklace."
You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
"It's a stump, deal with it y'self"
The _ man lets out a bark of laughter.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak grins a yellowed grin.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I'm running if you do."
Squinting between the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's legs, his knives still at the ready, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace, wench."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcltoh windcloak, in sirihish:
"Ya heard the soldier. Last chance before I do just that."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stares at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak for a long, hard moment.
Shrugging knotted shoulders, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Ain't afeared. --"
With that, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak lunges at the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak attacks the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
The very tall figure i na desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster parries the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster parries the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
Keeping his gaze on 2.wwarf, the _ man asks you, in sirihish:
"What's your name?"
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster steps back, batting aside the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's blows with a snarl.
The _ man joins the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's fight!
The _ man stops guarding you.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak parries the _ man's attack.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak parries the _ man's attack.
Looking over, you say to the _ man, in sirihish:
"Tivona, or Tiv."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster blocks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster blocks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stops guarding you.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak parries the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's attack.
Motioning, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to you, in sirihish:
"Get out of here before teh cunt tries to maneuver on ya, broad."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster blocks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak stabs at the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's arm, nicking him.
The _ man grins as he moves in and slashes at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.
The busty woman with silvery eyes stays stepped back, biting her lip quietly, nodding at the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
Far to the south: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster seized the opening and attacks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.
Far to the south: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stabs the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak on his body.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak has arrived from the west.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak falls in behind you.
Very far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
Far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier walks south.
The human soldier walks south.
A wide courtyard holds a number of wagons and their attendants, the space resounding with noise and bustle.
[near]
A human soldier of Tektolnes stand here, watching over the wagons.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stand here, watching over the wagons.
A black-painted wagon is here, pulled by a team of inix.
Far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
Far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
[91/91|114/116|80/85][Nekrete, early afternoon]
[standing|]
s
To the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
[91/91|114/116|80/85][Nekrete, early afternoon]
[standing|]
Wagon Yard [N, Quit]
You know what the desc. is
The human soldier sheathes a jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword.
The human soldier sheathes a jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortsword.
The human soldier subdues the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, despite his attempts to struggle away.
The human soldier shouts, in sirihish:
"Surrender, now, or it will mean your death!"
To the north: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
To the north: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the east.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak struggles in vain against the human soldier.
To the north: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs south.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the north.
The human soldier walks north, dragging the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak behind him.
The human soldier runs north.
You shake your head.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster dashes over back near you.
You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
"In the name of the highlord!"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The very tall figuer in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster begins guarding you.
You now follow the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
(The busty woman with silvery eyes shivers.)
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says, in sirihish:
"Get on back to ya compound."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
""nervous energy floods over!""
Caravan Road[E, S, W]
You know the desc.
You hear a man's voice shout from the west in sirihish:
"Yield, criminal, or suffer the consequences!"
You feel your heart thumping in your chest.
You raise the hood of your flowing crimson leather greatcloak.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"You're safe, aye?"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Yeah... *nervous energy* *surprise after a moment* You ... you risked your life for me."
The _ man send you a telepathic message:
"Eh. I told him he did it at the wrong time. Don't go thinkin' me a hero or some shit."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Gonna take him for all eh's worth? Tumble with him to feel a lil dirty? Eh?"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*so much nervous energy she can barely think, like a spooked animal* Okay."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Sick, wench. Best put them trinkets up 'fore I slice 'em off ya throat."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Or be spreadin' the rumor you roll in the dirt with undesirables. Betcha lord and ladies'd like that, eh?"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Afternoon Aide Tivona. I just wanted to check that you got back to the Estate nice and safe."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ya can make it up to me later when ya find somethin' that looks nice that's red and black I can wear if ya feel so jittery over it. Been needing some earnings or somethin'."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Nothin' to say? Thankin' him with ya mouth? Wench, you still got brains."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
And now he's in my mind and continuing to threaten me including trying to get me fired. *anxiety* The gifts that keeps on giving. A moment..."
You contact the _ dwarf with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _ dwarf.
"Goodbye."
You tsend a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I made it back, aye... thank you."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"He's a dead stump Waying, at best. Ya didn't do anything wrong other than use the fire pits at the Gaj to cook some kalans."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Rest of the time, we just sat and stared at each other mostly. Pfft."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Ain't scared me. Be mindful of the rumors. Be tellin' ya lady and lord y'ain't nothin' but a whore tryna fleece her, too."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Glad to hear. Name's _ if you or House Borsail ever need me."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Nothin' t'say, eh? Nothin' t'say? Y'run off, leave him behind? Heh. If y'aint gonna talk, I'll talk to him. And ya lady. And her lord cousin."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... He's still at it, too. I'll talk to him. And ya lady. And her lord cousin'. *frustration* Over some damn kalans."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Actually... a moment. I'll find your mind again..."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I'm sure my Lady would love to know the account of what happened from an eye witness who was there. Given I was there to talk to someone who was potentially to be hired on as a field aide."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"That was teh taller individual actually. Lady Anhelda is the one I serve, the Lord Controller's cousin. At the very least, if you find me again after this mess is settled, I will have a reward of sorts for you. You prefer liquor or coin?"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"I can come now if I'm needed."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I do not know if she is even awake presently, usually it's either a few days earlier in the week than this or much much later."
The short, lithe man sends you a telepathic message:
"Aaah. Well I'll be sure to seek you out when I can then. Coin can always be helpful. Just glad to hear I could help"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I'm going to try and sleep when my heart stops thumping in my chest. But aye, coins. I will remember. Thank you again. If you had interest in work for the Lord Controller, I would gladly attest that you intervened when someone tried to rob me."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"His shadow keep you, _. I wish we'd met in better circumstances."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*an attempt at playful through being extremely shaken* Well, you know, you kinda saved my life possibly so... if I wanna make like you're a hero, you can deny it, but... don't make it less real to me."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Fair enough, I guess. You and your daddy thing."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... I don't understand what that's got to do with it... in the scenario... my father would've been more like the stump was. Greedy and shortsighted and probably dead in a month."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... I mean... I don't know. I'm still so flustered I can't really think."
The stubbled, sandy-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"*fain amusement* Nothin'. Just tell the story as ya'd like. Keep it honest though, at the least, in case the soldiers ask me anythin'. I don't wanna have to explain why my story might sound a tad different than yours if you keep me sound odd."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I will... I mean, obviously the brushing your leg part I'mma not include. That's all... extraneous. But given the rest of it was entirely innocent and me meeting a potential field aside to talk... and then him fending off a would be assult or..."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"possibly murder... well."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"That's all total honest."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"The necklace, not the collar, but the necklace, that's all tied up with Lord Templar Sath and something I can't replace. I woulda run if you hadn't been there. As it was... I wasn't gonna leave till you hold me to. Are you okay?"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Yea, he fucked off. Seems he got away from the soldiers though."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Said that I cared so much about your safety, to tell ya to dress less like a concubine and not to show up in the Gaj, heh."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Like Sada doesn't wear silk there multiple days a week and Solace doesn't wear diamonds there."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"It's well known that LEATHER which is everything but the skirt and jewelry I'm wearing, it looked at as not being high class at all."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"To be fair to the short stump though, your piercing does indeed draw the eye."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*shock*"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Oh... Fuck. I need a different skirt, I think. *self-consciousness* I didn't... didn't realize you saw up my skirt."
You feel embarassed.
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Pfft. And here I was flattered."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I woulda showed you more than that if it'd been different surroundings. Won't even lie about that. But the showing wasn't so much intentional."
You feel irritated with the dwarf.
You think:
"Well."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Just make sure when ya mention how dashin' I looked, ya keep in mind my scarred side's the better lookin' side."
You feel like she'll be engaging later in fixing the situation.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*deeply, deeply amused* I have no intention of telling anyone how good you look. But you're right 'bout the scarred side, aye. I like scars, and yours intrigue."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"You'll just be jealous if one of your little aid-y friends decides they wanna sit on me a few times, eh? Ya don't have to lie to me. I take it as a compliment. Deeply amused with you, I am though."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"the fact ya stood around to watch, heh."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*musing* I'm not... I'm not that type of person, _. Long as whatever happens there doesn't make you hate me. I don't really care if you sit and talk with whoever, ore more than that. *some inner strugle*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"I can't believe you stood there to watch me fightin' off a cheeky stump's attempt on your life."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"*growing amusement* Fuckin' beautiful. That's what that was. That moment when I looked behind me and realized ya were still standin' there watchin'."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"What was I going to do? Validate literally anything he said by proving him right by running? Fuck, even I hated you, at that point, I would've stayed just to prove a damn point. And I don't have you. Not even a little. *mirth*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't let a little stump dictate what ya can and can't do by sayin' what you -will- do. I'll tell ya you'll fuckin' breathe right now, doesn't mean ya're gonna stop suddenly just to prove me wrong. Ya do what's safe. Healthy. Ya were the target."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"...soon as the target is gone, the stump has to fuck off."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"That he did. And started chasing me. Which was why the first place I ran was the wagonyard - I know there's always a mess of soldiers in there."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ya sure did put some move in that ass of yours didn't you though? His hustle was somethin' else. That was the fastest stump I ever did see, yep."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... I've been bait more than one time... I just hate the being chased part. Used to resent the shit out of it. Thought this is the first time in a couple years someone's come after me like that. Well, longer than a couple."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Usually it's your ass that's -actually- on the line when you're bait eh? *faint amusement*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"What an odd father, you had."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Can't really say much, got nothing to compare it to. *mirth*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Your man's in front of the Gaj right now."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Eh, I'll find his head to tell him 'bout all this if you don't. But if he talks to you would you explain it? I'll be back in your mind shortly after I explain what happened."
You contact the _, _ man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"_ and _ just saved me. Someone tried to hold me up at knifepoint in the Gaj and then literally chased me halfway across the city before escaping from the soldiers. I'm in the Estate right now."
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"A stump. Kept calling me whore and telling me he was going to slander me to my Lady, her cousin and anyone who'd listen, found my damn mind to taunt me after he got away."
A foregin presence contacts your mind.
The _, _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Yeah, he's in my head now. You're alright?"
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"Yeah, _ and _ literally fought him off at knifepoint when he came after me. I turned to run, and he disengaged from them and tried to chase me down. So I led him into the wagonyard since there's usually a whole mess of soldiers there."
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"They got him and he started fighting them off when I was running. Been here ever since. He kept saying I was dressed like a concubine - when leathers are usually considered low class and other people regularly wear diamonds in the Gaj - like _"
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"Or silks. Like _."
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"*confusion* _ actually came in and saw me, walked upstairs, and then back down, and out, a little while before it happened, at that."
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"I'm wearing a leather cloak and a leather shirt and a skirt that's from the cheap as fuck clothing store. It's not even Kadian. The ONLY nice stuff I have on is jewelry."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ya need to change your skirt. Vennant's mentionin' your clothes to _."
l skirt
Meant to be wrapped around the waste and tied, this long skirt of ruby-dyed cotton drapes beautifully around the legs in loose folds. The nature of the closing gives the skirt a diagonal slit up the sides to expose the wearer's leg when they walk. A faint print of darker red diamonds has been batiked onto the fabric, giving the dull crimson cotton shimmer and depth when viewed from a distance.
The _, _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Even Vennant said you was a bit too fancy to be safe, lurking about in the Roasting pits."
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"The skirt is seventy-five coins on Commoner's, and is cotton."
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"*frustration*"
The _,_ man sends you a telepathic message:
"I ain't seen it and ain't arguing either way. That's what I was told."
You contact the _, _ man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"You know what my skirt looks like."
You contact the _ man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Yeah, the cheapest thing I'm wearing. Ironic."
You send a telepathic message to the stubbled, sandy-haired man:
"Not like _'s diamond bracelet or _'s silk shit."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"No, no. The seventy-five sid skirt off commoner's way that's not even Kadian, THAT is the issue. *irritation*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"He just mentioned your dress state. I assumed your skirt."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"So maybe ya just dress too nice in general."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"And then Vennant tried to tell _ we were fuckin'. Pfft. See, this is why I don't meet up with soldiers' gals."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*frustration*"
You think:
"Fuck this."
You think:
"And I'm -dammed- if I give that stump the chance to get coin nor a fucking thing out of it."
As you enter the tunnel of Tal-Zen, you feel something penetrate your soul.
A voice booms:
"Begone Fool!"
Your vision goes black.
You stop watching them.
Granted by Nergal
Bardlyone,
We don't make any sort of distinction if a PC is male or female. As staff, our responsibility is to animate the world in response to a PC, and staff's reasoning can cover a great deal of things - from unusual social behavior or choices for a setting, to being in a dangerous location amidst threats, and more. For example, it is known that Allanakis wear tight but non-revealing clothing and the Gaj is a low-class tavern: a crude place with crude people. If your PC acts like they have a bubble around themselves protecting them from criticism, robbery, and so on, staff will seek to pop that bubble immediately. You decided to break away from docs further by having your character commit suicide over something that your average Allanaki would experience quite regularly if they acted and dressed like Tivona.
I am not trying to be mean when I say the above, or the following: you need to understand that this entire game is a collaborative effort that hinges on people playing fairly typical characters for the setting. If you seek to play the exception over and over, you are going to get exceptional treatment, over and over, and it will often skew to the negative. Be more mindful of the lines and find ways to be creative while mostly staying within them. It is definitely doable and many players play compelling character swhile bearing in mind that their characters are truly Zalanthan.
Your Question has been resolved.
After my last Aide had an elf screaming about how she was fucking undesirables (him, falsely, I might add), I got tired enough and she was emotionally fucked up enough to kilelr herself (Tiv, my pc) after the events here in quick succession. I don't know how much of this is staff and how much of it is players deciding to 'make the world come alive' by animating vnpcs to make lewed blowjob motions and animating vennant to FALSELY say that a character was fucking/trying to fuck someone, or the dwarf whose every statement was 'whore', I thought someone should at least see this in context.
Log below:
The _ has arrived from the north.
Glancing up, you say to the _ in sirihish:
"Evening."
The busy woman with silvery eyes looks relieved.
The _ has arrived from above.
Pleasantly, the _ says to the very tall figure in a desert-camoflauged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Evening."
The _ walks north
A few, rowdy soldiers, late in departing for patrol, make lewd, obscence gestures of fists near mouths and tongues picking at cheeks in the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's direction. They leave shortly thereafter.
As she looks into the fire, you say to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"I'm pretty sure I'm not made for having 'a mate' and pushing away everything else that makes me happy. I doubt that would change just because the mate in question did."
Amusedly, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"The thing that makes my gut clench with suppressed laughter is that you say that as if you weren't already as close as could be with me, without the sex."
Motioning gently toward the departing soldiers, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"That and the soldiers that just suggested I should get ya to blow me. Both make me suppress my laughter."
Lifting one shoulder, you whisper to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster in sirhish:
"Meh."
The very tall figure in a desert-camlouflaged sandcloth duster chuckles throatily.
The busty woman with silvery eyes slowly worries your sleek ebon chain suspending a dark ruby back and forth between her fingertips as she stares into the fire.
(The busy woman with silvery eyes looks through rather than at the fire, with the distance expression of someone whose thoughts are a million leagues away.)
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"Don't worry so much. And don't think on such things so hard. You do what makes you happy, because it's a fleeting thing, mmm. I can respect that, and there's nothin' wrong with it."
Simply, you whisper to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster in sirhish:
"Not gonna happen. Not here and now. Not with shit the way it is. Not with random fuckin' soldiers laughing at me. None of it."
You stand up. rolloing up slowly to her feet.
Gently, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to you, in sirihish:
"They were laughing at me, you know."
(The busty woman with silvery eyes' skirt pulls open to give the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster a lengthy glimpse of perfect unmarred white thigh as she moves to rise, splitting nearly to her hip.)
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's eyes linger on your thigh of their own accord briefly.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to you, in sirihish:
"...silly..."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"...but accurate..."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says, in sirhish:
"...things."
The busty woman with silvery eyes doesn't actually move to walk off when she straightens, though she does listen to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster quietly.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I don't know what to say."
The busty woman with silvery eyes looks quietly to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster for the longest.
You notice: The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster looks up at you.
You sti down, sitting beside the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster again.
The _ man sends a telepathic message:
"I like your collar."
(With the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster watching her and the heavy and uncareful resettling, your polished bone stud crowning the hairless apex of the busty woman with silvery eye's thighs is only for the briefest moment glimpsable by the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, due to where she moves to sit when the skirt shifts.)
You notice: The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's lips quirk up at the edgs, faintly.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Thank you. I thought it was the prettiest thing I'd ever seen, and spent two weeks working to afford it. It's worth it... still one of the prettiest things I've ever seen."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak looks you over carefully.
(You look up at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.)
_
_
_
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak is in excellent condition.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak is uing:
_
_
<primary hand> an obsidian halfsword
<secondary hand> a dujat-tooth longknife
He is carrying:
nothing obvious
You notice: The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster looks up at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.
Tilting her head, you ask the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Can I help you?"
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stands up.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster pushes up, squinting.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster draws an ivory-hilted, slender halfsword.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stops using his dusty gurth-shell round shield.
Gesturing with a sharp snick of his djuat-tooth longknife, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Gimme the necklace."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster holds his dusty gurth-shell round shield.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster beings guard you.
Cackling, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak asks the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Gonna fight for some silky wench?"
You stand up, rolling up to her feet after the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
As if it were such a hard thing to decide, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Don't have much choice, afraid. Ya had to do this publically, and if I don't, afraid it's her boss kills me, or you do, mmm?"
Exhaling, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Ya didn't make the decision easy for me, eh?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Should be in Red's. Not in the Gaj."
The _ man has arrived from the north.
Unbothered, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Hand't over, I got mouths to feed."
The _ man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his black leather belt.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says ot the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Mmmmmm..."
Before a medium-sized flickering fire, the _ man sits down.
The _ man gets his bloodied pair of firm, segmented antennae from his small bag.
The _ man begins crafting.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak asks, in sirihish:
"MMmm? Got sommin' in yer mouth?"
The busty woman with silvery eyes makes no move but to step closer to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
With a sharp gesture of his dujat-tooth longknife, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Got more'n enough, dolled up like ya some concubine. Gimme the necklace."
Reaching up briefly, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster closes his rag-stitched, shard-buttoned satchel.
The _ man looks over to the _ man.
Pressing in toward you, even with the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster before you, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster whispers to you, in sirihish:
"If he poisons me, cures in that satchel over my shoulder there."
(The busty woman with silvery eyes gives the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster a quiet nod.)
The busty woman with silvery eyes gives the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster a small dip of her chin.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged duster butts, his dusty gurth-shell round shield gently against the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's dujat knife, stepping well in the way.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Trust me fella, this ain't a pot ya wanna reach into to retrive the tart."
Rolling his eyes, the short and thick figure ina hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Y'aint no good for her. Get the fuck outta here. Just want a necklace. Got mouths to feed."
In a ruffled grunt, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak asks, in sirihish:
"Gimme. Somethin'. Or I'll slice ya faces off. Then how'd her boss like 'at?"
The _ man shrugs before turning back to a medium-sized flickering fire.
Amused by his own joke, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Y'd be faceless and feckless."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Then work in the damn field like the rest of us. I've had it up to fuckin' here, with death threats this last week, stump."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster makes a sharp motion with his bloodied ivory-hilted, slender halfsword, a brief swipe right above the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's short stature.
(The busty woman with silvery eyes edges back a little further behind the ver tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, eyes wide, but not making to move much otherwise.)
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Whose your boss?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak is unaffected by the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's testing stab. The glimmer in his eyes is one of hunger.
Repeating it, desperate, eyes all for you, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirhish:
"Need't eat. Got mouths to feed. Gimme. The. Fuckin'. Necklace."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I ain't workin' to get in any skirts. You got a mouth to feed? Ya want food, park your ass by the fire, and ya'll be fed, but ya ain't touchin' her necklace."
As she looks over, you say to the _ man, in sirihish:
"Borsail."
The _ man stands up.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"C'm'at me then. See how fast she tails it outta here. She ain't care none fer ya."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirhish:
"Ya fool. She's a Borsail whore. Get the feck out before the militia comes in."
Snickering with a mouth full of yellowed teeth, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Just wantsta slum it with ya. Feel dirty for a bit."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the short, lithe man, in sirihish:
"Don't care. Got mouths. She's dresst like she can let the necklage go."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcltoh windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Sids. A ring."
The _ man slowly walks over to busty.
Lifting his dujat-tooth longknife and pointing it squire to where you cowers behind the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, teh short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Gimme somethin' to hawk so I can feed m'mouths, y'dumb wench."
The _ man gets his pile of allanaki coins from his black leather belt.
Quietly, you say to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"You want the ring the corporal gave me or the necklace the templar gave me?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Toldja ready. I want the feckin' necklace. Don't want yer corporal mate's ring, wench."
The _ man asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"How much to get ya to feck off? A small?"
The _ man begins guarding you.
Cackling a vicious sound, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the short, lithe man, in sirihish:
"Ain't yer concern, pappy."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"nervousness"
Without a hint of mercy or fear, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace. Er I'll bleed everyone dry."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I'm making it me concern. She's a Borsail aide."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak glares at the rest of the people around the firepit.
Easily, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster asks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Guess those mouths ain't so hungry after all, eh?"
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the short, lithe man, in sirihish:
"Don't care. She ain't an advisor, eh? Ain't matter none to me. She looks too rich for her britches. Or her whore skirt."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Ain't Borsail feedin' ya enough? Be a shame if they thoughtcha was sleepin' 'round."
Slowly, the _ man draws an obsidian shortsword.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak waits, with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster shouts, in sirihish:
"Ey, soldier, ya mind helpin' with a cheeky cunt'f a stump tryin' to stick up folks back here?"
The _ man puts his pile of allanaki coins into his black leather belt.
Unaffected by the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's plea for mercy, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Your loss if you don't go now."
You now follow the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
Still on edge, the word still a threat, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Necklace."
The _ man sheathes a slender bone skinning knife.
Adoping a defensive stance, _ man draws an obsidian longsword.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster exhales slowly.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak waits. And waits. And waits. And still is menacing your wracked silent form from in front of the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sancloth duster stays firmly between you and the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, as best he can, watching him intently.
Taking a step FURTHER off behind the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, where she'd already sidestepped, the words soft, you say to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I'm not giving you the necklace."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"C'mat me then. Save yer busty wench."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"I just want to eat some feckign food. I'll pay you a small and what I have ib me bag here to go."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak was in front of the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster the WHOLE time and was menacing still by wagging his daggers at you.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, in sirihish:
"Ya want me to stab ya so that soldier over there comes a trompin' in and kicks my ass, don't ya? Naw, cheeky lil' cunt. Ain't happenin'."
Prodding closer toward the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged duster, knife within reach, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Ain't nuff."
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster, in sirihish:
"Then let me get my fuckin' necklace."
You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
"It's a stump, deal with it y'self"
The _ man lets out a bark of laughter.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak grins a yellowed grin.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I'm running if you do."
Squinting between the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's legs, his knives still at the ready, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says to you, in sirihish:
"Necklace, wench."
The _ man says to the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcltoh windcloak, in sirihish:
"Ya heard the soldier. Last chance before I do just that."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stares at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak for a long, hard moment.
Shrugging knotted shoulders, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak says, in sirihish:
"Ain't afeared. --"
With that, the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak lunges at the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak attacks the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
The very tall figure i na desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster parries the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster parries the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
Keeping his gaze on 2.wwarf, the _ man asks you, in sirihish:
"What's your name?"
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster steps back, batting aside the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's blows with a snarl.
The _ man joins the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's fight!
The _ man stops guarding you.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak parries the _ man's attack.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak parries the _ man's attack.
Looking over, you say to the _ man, in sirihish:
"Tivona, or Tiv."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster blocks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster blocks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stops guarding you.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak parries the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's attack.
Motioning, the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says to you, in sirihish:
"Get out of here before teh cunt tries to maneuver on ya, broad."
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster blocks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak's attack.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak stabs at the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster's arm, nicking him.
The _ man grins as he moves in and slashes at the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.
The busty woman with silvery eyes stays stepped back, biting her lip quietly, nodding at the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
Far to the south: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster seized the opening and attacks the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak.
Far to the south: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster stabs the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak on his body.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak has arrived from the west.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak falls in behind you.
Very far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
Far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier has arrived from the south.
The human soldier walks south.
The human soldier walks south.
A wide courtyard holds a number of wagons and their attendants, the space resounding with noise and bustle.
[near]
A human soldier of Tektolnes stand here, watching over the wagons.
A human soldier of Tektolnes stand here, watching over the wagons.
A black-painted wagon is here, pulled by a team of inix.
Far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
Far to the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
[91/91|114/116|80/85][Nekrete, early afternoon]
[standing|]
s
To the west: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the west.
[91/91|114/116|80/85][Nekrete, early afternoon]
[standing|]
Wagon Yard [N, Quit]
You know what the desc. is
The human soldier sheathes a jade-emblazoned, obsidian longsword.
The human soldier sheathes a jade-emblazoned, obsidian shortsword.
The human soldier subdues the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak, despite his attempts to struggle away.
The human soldier shouts, in sirihish:
"Surrender, now, or it will mean your death!"
To the north: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs east.
To the north: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the east.
The short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak struggles in vain against the human soldier.
To the north: the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster runs south.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster has arrived from the north.
The human soldier walks north, dragging the short and thick figure in a hooded, brown sandcloth windcloak behind him.
The human soldier runs north.
You shake your head.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster dashes over back near you.
You hear a man's voice shout from the north in sirihish:
"In the name of the highlord!"
You sense a foreign presence withdraw from your mind.
The very tall figuer in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster begins guarding you.
You now follow the very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster.
(The busty woman with silvery eyes shivers.)
The very tall figure in a desert-camouflaged sandcloth duster says, in sirihish:
"Get on back to ya compound."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
""nervous energy floods over!""
Caravan Road[E, S, W]
You know the desc.
You hear a man's voice shout from the west in sirihish:
"Yield, criminal, or suffer the consequences!"
You feel your heart thumping in your chest.
You raise the hood of your flowing crimson leather greatcloak.
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"You're safe, aye?"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Yeah... *nervous energy* *surprise after a moment* You ... you risked your life for me."
The _ man send you a telepathic message:
"Eh. I told him he did it at the wrong time. Don't go thinkin' me a hero or some shit."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Gonna take him for all eh's worth? Tumble with him to feel a lil dirty? Eh?"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*so much nervous energy she can barely think, like a spooked animal* Okay."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Sick, wench. Best put them trinkets up 'fore I slice 'em off ya throat."
A foreign presence contacts your mind.
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Or be spreadin' the rumor you roll in the dirt with undesirables. Betcha lord and ladies'd like that, eh?"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Afternoon Aide Tivona. I just wanted to check that you got back to the Estate nice and safe."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ya can make it up to me later when ya find somethin' that looks nice that's red and black I can wear if ya feel so jittery over it. Been needing some earnings or somethin'."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Nothin' to say? Thankin' him with ya mouth? Wench, you still got brains."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
And now he's in my mind and continuing to threaten me including trying to get me fired. *anxiety* The gifts that keeps on giving. A moment..."
You contact the _ dwarf with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _ dwarf.
"Goodbye."
You tsend a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I made it back, aye... thank you."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"He's a dead stump Waying, at best. Ya didn't do anything wrong other than use the fire pits at the Gaj to cook some kalans."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Rest of the time, we just sat and stared at each other mostly. Pfft."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Ain't scared me. Be mindful of the rumors. Be tellin' ya lady and lord y'ain't nothin' but a whore tryna fleece her, too."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Glad to hear. Name's _ if you or House Borsail ever need me."
The _ dwarf sends you a telepathic message:
"Nothin' t'say, eh? Nothin' t'say? Y'run off, leave him behind? Heh. If y'aint gonna talk, I'll talk to him. And ya lady. And her lord cousin."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... He's still at it, too. I'll talk to him. And ya lady. And her lord cousin'. *frustration* Over some damn kalans."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Actually... a moment. I'll find your mind again..."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I'm sure my Lady would love to know the account of what happened from an eye witness who was there. Given I was there to talk to someone who was potentially to be hired on as a field aide."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"That was teh taller individual actually. Lady Anhelda is the one I serve, the Lord Controller's cousin. At the very least, if you find me again after this mess is settled, I will have a reward of sorts for you. You prefer liquor or coin?"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"I can come now if I'm needed."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I do not know if she is even awake presently, usually it's either a few days earlier in the week than this or much much later."
The short, lithe man sends you a telepathic message:
"Aaah. Well I'll be sure to seek you out when I can then. Coin can always be helpful. Just glad to hear I could help"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I'm going to try and sleep when my heart stops thumping in my chest. But aye, coins. I will remember. Thank you again. If you had interest in work for the Lord Controller, I would gladly attest that you intervened when someone tried to rob me."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"His shadow keep you, _. I wish we'd met in better circumstances."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*an attempt at playful through being extremely shaken* Well, you know, you kinda saved my life possibly so... if I wanna make like you're a hero, you can deny it, but... don't make it less real to me."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Fair enough, I guess. You and your daddy thing."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... I don't understand what that's got to do with it... in the scenario... my father would've been more like the stump was. Greedy and shortsighted and probably dead in a month."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... I mean... I don't know. I'm still so flustered I can't really think."
The stubbled, sandy-haired man sends you a telepathic message:
"*fain amusement* Nothin'. Just tell the story as ya'd like. Keep it honest though, at the least, in case the soldiers ask me anythin'. I don't wanna have to explain why my story might sound a tad different than yours if you keep me sound odd."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I will... I mean, obviously the brushing your leg part I'mma not include. That's all... extraneous. But given the rest of it was entirely innocent and me meeting a potential field aside to talk... and then him fending off a would be assult or..."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"possibly murder... well."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"That's all total honest."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"The necklace, not the collar, but the necklace, that's all tied up with Lord Templar Sath and something I can't replace. I woulda run if you hadn't been there. As it was... I wasn't gonna leave till you hold me to. Are you okay?"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Yea, he fucked off. Seems he got away from the soldiers though."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Said that I cared so much about your safety, to tell ya to dress less like a concubine and not to show up in the Gaj, heh."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Like Sada doesn't wear silk there multiple days a week and Solace doesn't wear diamonds there."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"It's well known that LEATHER which is everything but the skirt and jewelry I'm wearing, it looked at as not being high class at all."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"To be fair to the short stump though, your piercing does indeed draw the eye."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*shock*"
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Oh... Fuck. I need a different skirt, I think. *self-consciousness* I didn't... didn't realize you saw up my skirt."
You feel embarassed.
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Pfft. And here I was flattered."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"I woulda showed you more than that if it'd been different surroundings. Won't even lie about that. But the showing wasn't so much intentional."
You feel irritated with the dwarf.
You think:
"Well."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Just make sure when ya mention how dashin' I looked, ya keep in mind my scarred side's the better lookin' side."
You feel like she'll be engaging later in fixing the situation.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*deeply, deeply amused* I have no intention of telling anyone how good you look. But you're right 'bout the scarred side, aye. I like scars, and yours intrigue."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"You'll just be jealous if one of your little aid-y friends decides they wanna sit on me a few times, eh? Ya don't have to lie to me. I take it as a compliment. Deeply amused with you, I am though."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"the fact ya stood around to watch, heh."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*musing* I'm not... I'm not that type of person, _. Long as whatever happens there doesn't make you hate me. I don't really care if you sit and talk with whoever, ore more than that. *some inner strugle*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"I can't believe you stood there to watch me fightin' off a cheeky stump's attempt on your life."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"*growing amusement* Fuckin' beautiful. That's what that was. That moment when I looked behind me and realized ya were still standin' there watchin'."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"What was I going to do? Validate literally anything he said by proving him right by running? Fuck, even I hated you, at that point, I would've stayed just to prove a damn point. And I don't have you. Not even a little. *mirth*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Don't let a little stump dictate what ya can and can't do by sayin' what you -will- do. I'll tell ya you'll fuckin' breathe right now, doesn't mean ya're gonna stop suddenly just to prove me wrong. Ya do what's safe. Healthy. Ya were the target."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"...soon as the target is gone, the stump has to fuck off."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"That he did. And started chasing me. Which was why the first place I ran was the wagonyard - I know there's always a mess of soldiers in there."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ya sure did put some move in that ass of yours didn't you though? His hustle was somethin' else. That was the fastest stump I ever did see, yep."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"... I've been bait more than one time... I just hate the being chased part. Used to resent the shit out of it. Thought this is the first time in a couple years someone's come after me like that. Well, longer than a couple."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Usually it's your ass that's -actually- on the line when you're bait eh? *faint amusement*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"What an odd father, you had."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Can't really say much, got nothing to compare it to. *mirth*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Your man's in front of the Gaj right now."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Eh, I'll find his head to tell him 'bout all this if you don't. But if he talks to you would you explain it? I'll be back in your mind shortly after I explain what happened."
You contact the _, _ man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"_ and _ just saved me. Someone tried to hold me up at knifepoint in the Gaj and then literally chased me halfway across the city before escaping from the soldiers. I'm in the Estate right now."
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"A stump. Kept calling me whore and telling me he was going to slander me to my Lady, her cousin and anyone who'd listen, found my damn mind to taunt me after he got away."
A foregin presence contacts your mind.
The _, _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Yeah, he's in my head now. You're alright?"
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"Yeah, _ and _ literally fought him off at knifepoint when he came after me. I turned to run, and he disengaged from them and tried to chase me down. So I led him into the wagonyard since there's usually a whole mess of soldiers there."
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"They got him and he started fighting them off when I was running. Been here ever since. He kept saying I was dressed like a concubine - when leathers are usually considered low class and other people regularly wear diamonds in the Gaj - like _"
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"Or silks. Like _."
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"*confusion* _ actually came in and saw me, walked upstairs, and then back down, and out, a little while before it happened, at that."
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"I'm wearing a leather cloak and a leather shirt and a skirt that's from the cheap as fuck clothing store. It's not even Kadian. The ONLY nice stuff I have on is jewelry."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Ya need to change your skirt. Vennant's mentionin' your clothes to _."
l skirt
Meant to be wrapped around the waste and tied, this long skirt of ruby-dyed cotton drapes beautifully around the legs in loose folds. The nature of the closing gives the skirt a diagonal slit up the sides to expose the wearer's leg when they walk. A faint print of darker red diamonds has been batiked onto the fabric, giving the dull crimson cotton shimmer and depth when viewed from a distance.
The _, _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"Even Vennant said you was a bit too fancy to be safe, lurking about in the Roasting pits."
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"The skirt is seventy-five coins on Commoner's, and is cotton."
You send a telepathic message to the _,_ man:
"*frustration*"
The _,_ man sends you a telepathic message:
"I ain't seen it and ain't arguing either way. That's what I was told."
You contact the _, _ man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _, _ man:
"You know what my skirt looks like."
You contact the _ man with the Way.
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"Yeah, the cheapest thing I'm wearing. Ironic."
You send a telepathic message to the stubbled, sandy-haired man:
"Not like _'s diamond bracelet or _'s silk shit."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"No, no. The seventy-five sid skirt off commoner's way that's not even Kadian, THAT is the issue. *irritation*"
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"He just mentioned your dress state. I assumed your skirt."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"So maybe ya just dress too nice in general."
The _ man sends you a telepathic message:
"And then Vennant tried to tell _ we were fuckin'. Pfft. See, this is why I don't meet up with soldiers' gals."
You send a telepathic message to the _ man:
"*frustration*"
You think:
"Fuck this."
You think:
"And I'm -dammed- if I give that stump the chance to get coin nor a fucking thing out of it."
As you enter the tunnel of Tal-Zen, you feel something penetrate your soul.
A voice booms:
"Begone Fool!"
Your vision goes black.
You stop watching them.
Granted by Nergal
Bardlyone,
We don't make any sort of distinction if a PC is male or female. As staff, our responsibility is to animate the world in response to a PC, and staff's reasoning can cover a great deal of things - from unusual social behavior or choices for a setting, to being in a dangerous location amidst threats, and more. For example, it is known that Allanakis wear tight but non-revealing clothing and the Gaj is a low-class tavern: a crude place with crude people. If your PC acts like they have a bubble around themselves protecting them from criticism, robbery, and so on, staff will seek to pop that bubble immediately. You decided to break away from docs further by having your character commit suicide over something that your average Allanaki would experience quite regularly if they acted and dressed like Tivona.
I am not trying to be mean when I say the above, or the following: you need to understand that this entire game is a collaborative effort that hinges on people playing fairly typical characters for the setting. If you seek to play the exception over and over, you are going to get exceptional treatment, over and over, and it will often skew to the negative. Be more mindful of the lines and find ways to be creative while mostly staying within them. It is definitely doable and many players play compelling character swhile bearing in mind that their characters are truly Zalanthan.
Your Question has been resolved.
