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Post by Tom Bombadil on Feb 27, 2009 2:56:52 GMT
Characters: Must be approved by creator Content Rating: Adult Genre: Adventure/Semi-freeform-but-mostly-adventure Pax Argonia “It can be done,” admitted the Orc, his yellow eyes scanning the large map before him which took up the entirety of the table, “it won't be an easy – or safe – trip, but it can be done.” Messala leaned back in his stiff chair, breathing a quiet sigh of relief- that was one worry relieved. Not that he did not have many more behind it, he thought ruefully. “That is excellent, thank you,” he said, straightening up again and drying the sweat from his forehead with a cloth. Leyawin was hot enough without the windowless, candle-lit room in which the two men sat, which seemed like an oven in the hot of the day. “Not so fast- there is still the matter of price,” said the Orc quickly, raising a finger and his eyebrows. Messala, still relieved that he had found someone willing do pledge their ship to such a far-fetched cause, flatly named a sum that made the Orc sit down in his own chair, jaw agape and eyes staring. “As I said, I cannot stress the urgency of speed enough- money is of no consequence. So,” said Messala, putting his hands together and looking significantly elated, “will that amount do?” The Orc did not respond for a moment, still looking as though he had been dunked in a bucket of ice water. Finally he replied with a blank “Yeah. I mean- yes, yes absolutely!” He stood up and grasped the Imperial's hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “Now, eh, it will take at least a week to get the crew ready-” “That's fine,” interrupted Messala, holding up a hand to cut the explanation short, “I have one more task to take care of before we can go, anyway.” The Orc raised an eyebrow curiously at this. Messala simply smiled and said, “I would like this venture to go as smoothly as possible, and I plan to cover all bases. As long as your ship can support a few additional passengers, you don't have to worry about it.” The Next Day These notices dotted the city of Leyawin, tacked onto the doors of taverns, the sides of walls, even one posted on the chapel doors. Not that they were a surprise - a good deal of the city was already talking about the arrival of Baron Messala in the city, and under the circumstances. Count Leyawin himself had provided lodgings for the Baron, yet few had heard of him before. His was a small barony on the western coast of Argonia, where the Empire actually had what could realistically be called holdings. And it seemed that as abruptly as he came, he would be leaving, along with a good deal more people than he came with. StartingYou (the wonderful player) can be anyone you like, within reason. Once your character has been approved, you have six in-game days to join the voyage, and then the ship will leave Leyawin and you will have to talk to me to arrange to join somewhere else, which shouldn't be a problem. SettingLeyawin, obviously, but that is only for the very beginning. Rules-I am the Game Master, and I have the final say, should a dispute arise that the players can't work out (though I'm certain you all are perfectly capable of being reasonable fellows), and I am the controller of everything. Should there be an extended absence, I will minimally control your character in order to keep the story going, with your permission of course. -No ubering/godmodding and the like -No character controlling! -Be realistic, please -Vampires, Werewolves, Assassins, and the like will only be accepted if I believe you can roleplay them well - get my permission first. -Romance is welcome, just keep it civil and realistic. -Beginners and experts alike are welcome. -Enjoy yourself. Without further ado, welcome to Pax Argonia.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Feb 27, 2009 11:43:18 GMT
The hot humidity that washed over Messala's face told him that the coolness of the morning was already giving way to a warm day. As he walked out of the courtyard of Castle Leyawin as quickly as he could without appearing rude, he was very glad to be rid of the place; that had been the last night he would spend in the Castle, now instead lodging on the Partisan so that he might both greet the crew and get familiar with the ship he would be aboard for over a month.
It wasn't that he wasn't satisfied with the Count's hospitality, no, certainly not. It was simply the Count - more so the Countess - that he could scarcely stand to be around. It wasn't often that Messala ventured into Nibenay, and he had grown unused to the lofty airs of their nobility. The blatant corruption in Argonia he was used to, but the aloof mannerisms of the rulers of Leyawin made him uneasy at best.
The city itself, he admitted, was lovely. While not so much for her people, the architecture of Nibenay was something to be admired. The population was a striking change, for a man coming from a place like Argonia. Instead of an assortment of smugglers and paupers mixed in with an overwhelming majority of Argonians, he found the populace of Leyawin a menagerie of variety. It made for an interesting experience, at least.
Once in the heart of the city itself, Messala took his time in getting to the ship. Captain gro-Nakak had said he would appoint his second-in-command to greet any early arrivals, and the baron decided to get his fill of the city while he could.
The sleepy beginning of the morning was beginning to be replaced by the activity of early day, and already various people milled about the roads on their business: laborers carrying equipment, merchants beckoning into their shops, and even a couple of mercenaries (probably from the Fighters Guild, Messala thought) heading out of the city, looking less than enthusiastic about whatever their current job may be.
His coat and gloves not currently on his person, given the humidity, Messala attracted little more attention than any of the city's nobility might. With a bright thought, the baron directed his path to the inn known as the Five Claws Lodge, a place recommended him by two of his entourage on his way here. Apparently it wasn't a place befitting a noble, but Messala didn't particularly mind; there were few places in Leyawin that were, save for the Castle, and he wasn't about to endure another meal with that lot. A smile tugged at his mouth as the lodge came into sight: a squat wooden place with a beggar outside.
Reminds me of home...
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Post by Vicorva on Feb 27, 2009 12:15:01 GMT
"That is IT!"
A young mage jumped out of her skin, racing to scoop up the rest of her belongings.
"Susanna..." A stern looking nord female strode menacingly towards the mage.
"Um... Zanna, if you don't mind, Agata..." the mage squeaked.
"Susanna!" the nord bellowed. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY GUILD!"
Zanna looked around the room; it was a blackened mess. Bits of metal were stuck into the walls- and would perhaps have been stuck into Zanna, too, if she hadn't acted quickly against the explosion. Her dragon, Erloire, crawled out of a drawer, looking as disgruntled as a mechanical animus could.
"It was a mistake?" Zanna suggested quietly. Her thick mane of honey-blonde hair was in disarray, and her sickly green eyes were wide behind the green lenses of her dwemer goggles. "Technically," she added. "It's Dagail's guild..."
Agata turned purple. Zanna blanched.
"I'll just be going, then?" she suggested nervously.
Agata nodded curtly, not saying anything. The mage collected up the rest of her equipment and scurried out without another word.
On the streets of Leyawiin, Zanna heaved a sigh. It appeared that she had failed once again to fit into a chapter. They never want me around... she thought dejectedly. They think I'm useless. But surely Erloire alone proves that I have talent beyond the norm...
Erloire... she froze. Where was her animus? Behind her, there was the sound of metal scrabbling against stone as her little dragon clattered in leaps and bounds after her, whistling his disapproval.
"Sorry, Erloire!" she cried, kneeling to scoop up the dragon and place him upon her shoulder. The animus flapped the metal membranes of his wings unhappily.
"I guess it's an in for the night," she murmured to him. "And then on to Bravil, maybe. We haven't been there in a while; they might have forgiven us."
Erloire shook his head and clacked his jaws. Zanna sighed. She headed for the Five Claws Lodge, thinking they at least might have a room for her.
The inn was shabby, and a beggar was sitting outside. "Alms for the poor?" the beggar whispered hoarsely. Zanna frowned, and rummaged through her rather small purse for a coin. "Here," she said, but the beggar didn't take it. His eyes were fixed on the dragon on her shoulder, who was currently tilting his head in response to the beggar's stare.
"What is that?" he demanded in quite a different voice. Zanna sighed, and put the coin in his hand.
"'That', is Erloire," she didn't explain. "Don't spend it all in one place, okay?" The inventor headed into the inn, feeling dejected.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Feb 27, 2009 22:43:55 GMT
Maybe I thought too soon...
Messala, now scarcely a hundred feet from the inn, stopped dead in his tracks at the novel sight passing by him: a woman in mages robes...with a dragon. That is what is was, wasn't it?
A few connections failed in the baron's mind as he tried to register the sight of the automaton in his mind. The odds are maddening... Messala actually gave a single chuckle at the novelty of the coincidence that he realized, but quickly put that to the back of his mind.
Now walking briskly - nearly jogging - towards the inn, the beggar scarcely had time to utter "Alms f-" before whatever Messala blindly drew from his pocket and shoved into the man's hands as he passed, not paying the slightest attention to the astonished beggar who was now holding a large sapphire broach, and entered the inn.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Feb 28, 2009 2:47:56 GMT
Alyssa was in a hurry. She knew herself to be benevolent, but that was something the townsfolk did not know, and she wanted herself on that ship before anyone would ask questions.
She remembered the yellow notice she had torn from a nail, searching for individuals interested in a journey aboard the Partisan. If the rumors were true, it was a fine ship, although one that pestilent questions would not be asked upon during their voyage. The notice was currently crumpled up in a pocket of her robe, hidden on the inside for security and protection from the elements.
She scurried through the streets of Leyawin, hood drawn tight over her eyes, neck craned towards the ground. She moved her legs at the pace of a worried individual, as if there might just be a mob around the corner. She could feel their eyes on her; Her dark garb and the coffin strapped to her back made her a pretty obvious necromancer. They would, of course, be oblivious to the fact that she was a benevolent corpse-raiser. She knew the inn; She'd surreptitiously arranged sleeping arrangements there several times, and the barkeep was quite a friendly fellow, if a bit portly.
Her leather boots clicked on the pavement, the mithril chain rustling and the potions on her belt clinking together, idly waiting to be used. She moved through a cramped alleyway and arrived upon the street leading to the bar. She rushed towards the door, coffin swinging slightly on her back. She saw a rather elegant, sophisticated man give something to the beggar and enter. The current occupant was being banged around, but in his docile, comatose state it wouldn't matter to him.
A beggar almost tugged the corner of her robe, drawing in air to ask for alms, but noticed just then that there was a rather large coffin on her back. He pulled his hand away, but she turned and placed a plump back of coins near his foot. She smiled warmly, the only feature visible on her face from under the hood. Turning, she pushed open the door.
She entered, nodded to the barkeep, and sat in the far corner of the room, sampling a complimentary nut from a dish on the table. She rested the coffin against the wall, folding her arms and sighing.
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Post by Vicorva on Mar 1, 2009 10:45:25 GMT
Zanna had just managed to beg a room from the innkeeper, giving away five more of her precious few coins, when two other entered. The first was a nobly man. She nodded politely, but looked nervously at him; though occasionally a rich noble would sponser an inventor so that she might make him trinkets and bring him fame, more often than not they despised the unusual mages just as much as everyone else did.
But then, a woman marched in with a coffin on her back. The woman was clearly a necromancer- she smelled very strongly, even to Zanna's human nose, of rotting flesh. But Zanna's eyes widened nonetheless at her presence- to walk so brazenly as a necromancer- She must be sanctioned in some way... the mage thought. Though a little zany at times, Zanna was rather bright. But I bet there is no security in that position, except for when she is on a job. If she ever put even a toe out of line, or even if someone testified wrongly against her, Zanna imagined she would be left on her own. It was enough risk offending the mages' guild by hiring her; defending her, even in the right, would cause riots.
Though Zanna was repulsed by the profession- legally practised or no- she found herself intrigued by the woman.
She looks rich, too... Zanna thought with a sinking heart. The only good thing about staying in an inn instead of the Guild was that she didn't have to be faced with her own short-comings. It appeared that today was one of those days where everything she did would fail.
On her shoulder, Erloire chirped, grating his cogs in such a way as to make the sound. She stroked his nose, and he tried to bite it, she snatching her fingers away just in time.
"No," she said, pushing him with two fingers reproachfully. The cold blue fire of the magic that sustained him chilled her fingers pleasantly.
She sighed, and went and sat down at a table, with only her animus for company. The automaton, being about the size of a cat, covered a good portion of the table, and explored around it, sniffind at things as if it were a cat... or as if it could smell.
Zanna smiled sadly down at it, occassionally stroking him when he was in a poor position to strike at her.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Mar 1, 2009 14:55:34 GMT
Mere seconds after Messala entered the inn, he had scarcely the chance to scan the tables for the woman with the dragon (though granted, it was not a difficult search) before the door of the inn opened once more.
Instinctively, given the tight quarters of the entrance, Messala stepped aside to allow the new patron to pass. The baron did a double take. A necromancer? The coffin-bearing woman seemed fairly at ease, considering her apparent profession. Messala's homeland was practically infested with the practitioners of that sort of magic, but he had thought they were supposed to be shunned in Cyrodiil, or something like that.
Blinking, he gave his head a light shake and turned his attention back to the original person he had followed into the inn. More specifically, the machine on the table. The thing was a marvel; whether it was powered by magic or something else, he didn't know, but intended to find out.
He approached the table with slight hesitation (as he still wasn't entirely sure if the dragon was controlled or had a mind of its own). When he was within a suitably polite distance of the dragon-bearing table, Messala bowed courteously. "Excuse me, my lady," he began unsure how to ask a question the likes of which he never thought he would ask, "my name is Messala. If you do not mind, I would like to ask you about that remarkable machine you have there," he glanced at the dragon again. "I've...never seen anything like it...how in the world did you acquire such a thing?" He stood in front of the table, his hands behind his back, feeling a bit awkward. He felt like a solicitor about to make a sales pitch.
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Post by Vicorva on Mar 1, 2009 15:33:03 GMT
Zanna blinked as the well-dressed man appeared at her table. While she was an intelligent woman, she was also a mage- she had no clue who he might be.
"Excuse me, my lady," he said politely, making Zanna smile hesitantly- if he was being kind, she was more likely to respond. "My name is Messala..." he carried on to ask about Erloire.
She looked down at the mechanical dragon on the table, who was clacking his teeth threateningly at the noble, and tapped him warningly on the nose. "Shh," she ordered, but the dragon continued, and took a step closer to the noble.
"Shh!" she said again, and this time her words were infused with magic. The dragon's blue innards flashed brightly, the flames seeming to expand to cover the whole creature, and when they receded, his jaws were tightly shut.
She turned to the portly man, her expression changing from weary to curious. "Hello, Messala," she said. She wasn't one much for decorum- she'd always been too busy with her studies to learn much else besides. "Um... I didn't 'acquire' him. I made him... I'm an inventor, you see," she tried to look proud, but a blush mantled her cheeks. She knew how widely inventors were discredited- afterall, what could trinkets mean to the world of magical discovery?
The spell ended in a failing wash of blue, and Erloire let of steam, making a piercing whistling sound that expressed his fear of the man, and skittered towards Zanna, scrabbling up onto her shoulders, gripping with his taloned paws in a manner that looked painful, though Zanna barely flinched.
"I'm Zanna," the mage offered tentatively. "Susanna Renette- of the rank of Wizard." she was proud, at least, of her place within the mages' guild- it was only sad that they had barred her from getting any higher.
"You'll have to excuse Erloire..." she added as he made a sound resembling a hiss at the noble, leering threateningly at him, his bizarre eyelids lowering in a glare. "He doesn't like people."
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Mar 1, 2009 17:44:16 GMT
Alyssa shuddered and looked up. A mage and a nobleman were talking over an odd little dragon.
How'd I miss that?
She shrugged and leaned the coffin against the wall, shuffling quietly over to the pair. She tapped Zanna on the shoulder from behind, timidly pushing out a few words. They felt rather hollow to her.
"Uhh...Hello...my name's Alyssa. I couldn't help but notice your fine little companion." She whispered, eyes wide at the dragon.
She smiled, the corners of her mouth barely moving up. She looked around uncomfortably, unsure of how the patrons of the bar would react to her. She was tempted to reach out and touch the dragon, wondering if it had some sort of enchantment to make the metal scales feel real.
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Post by Vicorva on Mar 1, 2009 18:29:41 GMT
OOC: No metal scales. There is a description of him in my character sheet that looks like this: A mechanical/magical dragon by the name of Erloire. Erloire is about as big as a cat, and is made of scrap metal. His body resembles the skeleton of a dragon, but it is filled out with cold blue fire, stemming from the varla stone at his centre. This fire does not extend to his wings, which are simply metal frames. Erloire communicates mostly by whistling (letting off steam), clacking (snapping his jaws) and by his actions. Whether or not he understands people is unclear, and Zanna uses spells to give commands. IC: Zanna nearly leapt out of her skin when someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to get a full whiff of necromancer. She shuddered, but tried to smile. "Er... Hi, Alyssa..." she said in as friendly a manner as she could. She didn't really like necromancers- it was rather a violation in her mind- but she wasn't going to be mean to someone who was being nice to her. "Um..." she glanced around nervously, to make sure none of her guildsmen were around. She could be in serious trouble for talking to a necro instead of driving her out. "I'm Zanna," she said, unnerved by how both Messala and Alyssa stared at her creation. "I wouldn't touch him..." she warned, seeing the longing in the necromancer's eyes. Erloire whistled loudly at Alyssa, his glare switching from Messala to her, and then back again. His spiny metal tail was thrashing, thwacking Zanna in a painful manner around her back, but again, she barely flinched.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Mar 1, 2009 21:11:51 GMT
OOC: What I meant, was if the dragon, felt like it had scales, due to some magic or something. Sorry, for confusion.
IC: Alyssa, who constantly carried around the smell of the dead due to her work, never really noticed it by now. At first, she had been disgusted with it, but then it simply grew to be a part of the job. However, she never did get quite used to the unease people spoke to her with in conversations. Her smile faltered a little.
Alyssa was surprised by the mage; she obviously knew how to read people. That was a valuable skill in the line of a mage's work, especially if she was a member of a guild, which was very likely.
"Oh, I'm sorry...I didn't mean to offend your dragon. He is just very beautiful. Quite a magnificent invention." She said, trying to calm the dragon with an apology, if it could even understand her.
She took the notice for a crew out, and showed it to the two. She honestly had no idea what this man would look like, though it was likely he was going to be either a nobleman at the head of the expedition, or a grubby sea captain. She was banking on the sea captain.
"Do either of you know about someone meeting in here to recruit people for a cruise?" She inquired, completely oblivious to the fact that the one she was looking for was at arm's length.
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Post by Tom Bombadil on Mar 2, 2009 0:40:32 GMT
Messala blinked, then had to stifle a laugh.
"Well, to be honest I wouldn't call it a cruise, so to speak. Actually I wouldn't call it a cruise at all. Nor anything remotely like a cruise in any form of the definition of the word. But in any case, unless I am most terribly mistaken, I am the person for whom you are looking." With this, Messala bowed once more, this time to the necromancer.
"I am Baron Gratius Messala of Salernum." He smiled again, elated by the coincidence of the meeting- two in one! "If you are interested in joining our venture, I would gladly like to talk it over, with the both of you," he added, nodding to Zanna. Now addressing her, he said, "I admit, I am thoroughly impressed that anyone would be able to undertake an endeavor such as building a functional automaton - as such, I think you would be interested in this trip, if you would hear my offer. You see, Emperor Septim, gods rest his soul, made a purchase some time before his death, and it is ready to be received from Archon, on the eastern coast of Argonia. As speed and the safety of the delivery and cargo are top priorities, I am hastily trying to assemble a crew to aid in the delivery. And before you mention it, Mages Guild teleportation is not an option- Ocato himself restricted it for the purposes of the delivery, and that's all I need to know." There was a tinge of dishonesty in the last part of the sentence.
"And as for you, dear necromancer," he now spoke facing Alyssa, "I also believe you would be quite comfortable in Argonia; the laws are much looser on magical practices. And I refuse applications in only very rare exceptions. So!" he said suddenly, glancing at both of them, "Would either of you be interested? The pay is excellent, and I would gladly discuss the matter further if you would allow me to take a seat," he added.
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Post by Vicorva on Mar 2, 2009 11:05:38 GMT
...what just happened here? she wondered. Again, showing amazing tolerance for a mage of the guild, Zanna said, "Go ahead and sit. You too, Alyssa." But her eyes were on Messala, looking very confused.
"Um... so should I be calling you 'my lord'?" she asked the Baron hesitantly. He had introduced himself originally as Messala, and she was happy to call him that, especially if he preferred it, but he had introduced himself now as Baron Gratius Messala, and she wondered if she was supposed to have realised this from the very beginning.
"And... I'm really sorry, but... I have no idea what you're talking about." She looked sheepish- one trait of being a mage through and through was that you didn't know when anything happened that wasn't explicitly related to magic, and even then it usually had to be your specialty.
"...It's... quite sudden, or at least, it is to me..." she showed the signs, for those who knew her, of embarking on one of her nervous rants. "I mean, for starters Argonia is really far away and my Guild might need me- well, maybe not, since they consider me a burden. But you may not want me, I'm good with spells, and all, but I'm an inventor, not a battlemage, and I'm not even a very good one if you were to ask anyone else, although I don't believe that but my guild tell me it all the time, and since I don't come with very good reccomendations I'd feel wrong if you paid me lots of money, even though I could use the money..." Zanna paused, her face was heating up, a blush darkening her skin as she knew that by her babbling alone she was condemning herself from being chosen for this trip.
"...and I don't know anything about delivery, except for when I make teleportation pads." she finished lamely. I just don't want to be hired and then hated for being a fraud... she thought, trying to justify her long ramble. At least this way, he'll know all the stigma that comes attached to me. Just taking me along will probably make the 'Guild think it's a big joke.... Her eyes swept to Alyssa. If I go with her and it gets out, I could get in big trouble, too... she thought glumly.
But... she could use the money. Badly. And none of the Guild Chapters would be sorry to see her go. And I really do want an adventure... she thought.
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Post by Chaos 303030 on Mar 2, 2009 12:41:00 GMT
Alyssa smiled and sat down. She looked to the Baron, wondering how she hadn't seen it sooner. Guess it was part of being an absent-minded mage. Alyssa really saw no distinction between her craft and that of the guild, only that her's was more of a taboo.
"Thank you, both of you. Usually, people aren't as accepting of my kind. Especially mages." She said, winking at Zanna, and shifted in her seat.
"So, Messala, fill me in on the details and pay of this trip. I won't walk into the swamps of Argonia again without knowing what we're doing there."
She shuddered. The memory of her last trip into the borders of Black Marsh had haunted her, even if it had only been a brief foray. She had needed a corpse to be quickly stripped of flesh, and there was no better a place then the humid, beast ridden bog that made up Black Marsh. If that had only been the edge of the territory, she could only imagine how horrible the deeper parts would be.
"For the trip," she said, face growing serious, "I will need several things. First, I will need a room to myself in the lower decks. Preferably spacious, and with no questions or intrusions. Second, I will need a certain bag of ingredients; Ask the local alchemist, she knows me, and most likely already has the pack together."
She paused, thinking about the third thing, while passing Messala a note. "Third, if this is available, I require either an Expert's or Master's set of alchemical tools, set up on a table in the room. My old set it getting rusty and the mixture I create is quite dangerous when using the wrong tools."
She smiled again. "Otherwise, this should be a fun cruise!"
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Post by Vicorva on Mar 2, 2009 16:07:37 GMT
Zanna again attempted to smile back at Alyssa, but she looked troubled. I'm not accepting of your kind... she thought. I'm just not going to scream bloody murder at you because you believe differently.
Alyssa preceded to list all kinds of conditions to going on the cruise. Zanna could only stare at her with her mouth wide open. She must think she's very valuable, to ask for so much... she thought, stunned. A baron is nobility, yes, but they are hardly the richest of the rich, and she is asking for a fortune's worth of stuff, and possibly scuppering the amount of others Messala can hire. Afterall, there was only so much room on the ship.
She wondered if she had any demands of her own, but she realised she was too shy and too worthless to ask anyway, so why bother thinking?
On her shoulder, Erloire spread out the spiny fingers of his flightless wings- razor-sharp weapons in themselves- and clacked his jaws, rising up onto his hind feet and stretching as high as he could into the air. He was being especially rude today- Zanna could only thank the Gods that he didn't have his lead ball...
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