#Farragus

[hello-dently]

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[greathaven]

[Schazer: Magic.]

You don't know how to answer that. It's not that you don't know the obvious answer - it's how you fear she would react. Who knows what the people here think of magic? If anything was a curse at your old den, it was the stigma... and you're still not sure what to think of it yourself. So you decide to start with the smaller stuff, and take a step backward from the sword's tip. "...I'll be honest," you say, "I don't have a lot of experience, but... I was always real good at hide and seek, and I can make a good snowhiir." Rye looks unimpressed, and lowers her sword to see if there were others waiting for her to be distracted. She doesn't bother to stand up. You didn't come all this way to be trapped in a place like this, so you brace yourself and add, "I can use magic pretty well, too." She sighs. "That doesn't sound particularly special. Anyone can throw sparks, you know." She demonstrates by snapping little arcs of electricity between her digits. Now comes the moment of truth. "Just yesterday," you continue, "I took down a rozo by myself. One zap, and he was out." "Please. You're a bad liar." She swishes her tail behind her and yawns, eyes heavy as though she wanted to go back to sleep. "Hmm. But at least you're not cocky about it." She scratched her chin in thought. "...I'll tell you what. If you can show me you're as powerful as you say, then I'll let you down to see the chieftains with Farragus." You choke a little as you speak. "...I don't actually have a lot of control over it. And I don't want to hurt you." "So what I'm hearing is, you don't have any evidence for it?"

[Smurfton: Try not to exaggerate.]

Beating around the bush doesn't seem to help your case, and you're getting tired of not being taken seriously. At least, being a magic user doesn't seem to hold the same weight here as it did back home. It's at this moment that you realize you have nothing to lose, and everything to gain. So you tell her everything. "...Okay. I don't even want to be a scout." You note the change of tone in your voice. "I was about to buy a tunic earlier today, with money that I got for knocking out that rozo. I had... I had over ten thousand spice given to me, and then taken away, today. And now I'm here. ...I just wanna find the toril who still has it, before they leave town." You pause, feeling a familiar dryness in your throat. "...I'd do anything," you say, "to find her." She did save your life, after all.

Rye stands up with a look of grim curiosity. "...Okay. Let's say what you're telling me is true, and let's say we find that torill. What are you going to do after?" Her stance reminds you of your small stature. "...I'll give the clan some of the money, and then I'll be on my way." "...And how much money did you say you had?" "I had eighty-seven hundred spice, when I lost it," you say.

Suddenly, a there is a familiar ringing in your ears. The source is obvious this time; Rye is talking to the chieftains. "Ahem. Rohan, this is Rye. You guys happened to find a small bag while you were out there, didn't you?" There is a delay, until another voice comes from somewhere far beneath you. "Yeees, yes, this is Rohan. We have the one. This had better be good, Rye." "I have an important question," she responds. "Did you find it in the sea?" "Yes, we did," came the other voice again. "And just about how many guards did you kill to get it?" There is another delay, about ten seconds long - and a slight stirring in the air as the other hiiri start to wake up. The crowd outside was one thing, but this was kind of hard to ignore. Finally, a third voice pierces the darkness. "This is Moe. I counted there to be seven yellow ones, and eight purple ones." Rye takes a deep breath, and sighs. "...It appears that bag belongs to the young one you found wandering outside, and he wants to be a scout to get it back." "What?" says a voice, which you recognize as Felna's. And then there is a long, long silence.

Growing impatient, she steps aside. "Just go down, already," she says out loud, preparing herself to fend off the small crowd gathering nearby. "The rest of you can back off." You just follow your orders.

____

The way down is pretty straightforward, although it's dark, even for a hiir. But at least you can catch the bends in the path before you run into them. Sometimes the floor gets steeper, or a wooden frame lines the walls... and you only seem to take left turns. The voices of chieftains arguing about you bounce around in your head, and you are tempted to tell them all to shut up - but you know better, and instead flatten your ears to try and quiet them. You are really glad telling the truth seemed to work; you aren't particularly proud of some of the things you would have tried otherwise. Eventually, you see a light...

...And find yourself in a quaint little room. Upon seeing you, the Hawren standing over the group shakes his head. "What on earth is going on? Why won't you guys tell me anything?" You definitely recognize the rest, but you don't know their names. Someone who looks like Felna is sitting in the back, but you can tell it isn't her. The first one to speak among them, the grey one, must be Moe. "...Hello again," he says, pulling on his scarf. Everyone else just stares at you, like they don't know what to say. ...You don't really know what to say, either.

[moneyhealthfinance-blog]

Cisco Could Be the Next Microsoft, Says Bernstein Cisco Systems (CSCO) could be the next Microsoft (MSFT), meaning, an stodgy old company reborn in investors’ eyes, with a higher stock multiple, according to a note today from Bernstein’s Pierre Farragu. Farragu, reiterating an Outperform rating on Cisco shares, and a $ 40 price target, argui... Tech Trader Daily

[thedrinkist-blog]

Go Fourth & Drink

Time to pull out the firecrackers, roman candles, bottle rockets and cherry bombs – it’s the lead-in to Independence Day here in the States and a great time to celebrate all things American. If you’re like me, though, you’ll be happy to leave the explosives to the pros. Having a pronounced fondness for all my fingers, I’m content to enjoy someone else’s show and limit myself to some good drinks and maybe a sparkler or two if I’m giddy.

So what to drink on the Fourth of July?

Unless you’re feeling particularly reconciliatory or ready to give reign to your royalist leanings, it’s probably a good day to skip that summer stalwart, the English gin and tonic, and stick to beverages from these 50 states and commonwealths along with the various protectorates and territories. Fortunately, that’s a wide open terrain. If you really do want that G&T, why not stick to great domestic gins? I have New York Distilling Company’s Dorothy Parker and a trio of gins from St. George sitting in the bar now. The good folks at Death’s Door (perhaps the clearest case for capital letters I’ve ever seen) in Wisconsin make another great option as does the team behind Junípero. Several other solid choices are sloshing about across the continent.

Beyond the G&T, any of those gins might make the base for a martini, that great icon of American drinking culture and the American century generally. The martini almost screams to be the toast of choice on the Fourth, except, of course, a proper martini never screams. It only speaks in a refined, authoritative voice that commands respect. It also seems to call for a level of formality that I can’t quite manage on a day of barbecues and baseball, so perhaps hold it in reserve for President’s Day.

For the nearly mandatory outdoor frolics associated with the nation’s birth, there’s hardly anything more traditional – or more satisfying – than a beer. During the dark decades after WWII, beer wasn’t necessarily a source of great American pride: Brewing within our borders was a triumph of science, quality control, logistics and marketing. Actual flavor? Let’s just say opinions vary. If you’re dedicated to your favorite mass produced lager (light, lite or other), I’m not here to deny you, but maybe consider adding in some of the great beers that America has begun producing in the microbrewery renaissance. Early proponents of this trend are available almost everywhere – think Sam Adams (there's a name redolent with patriotism), Anchor Brewing (maybe a Liberty Ale?) or Sierra Nevada (maybe channel Admiral Farragut and go for the Torpedoes?) as prime examples. There are far too many great examples to mention, though. You probably have an attractive option near you. Here in New Orleans, The Drinkist will likely be enjoying something cold from NOLA Brewing at some point on the Fourth – a Hurricane Saison or their Hopitoulas IPA.

For the wine drinkers around, my experience is you already know what American wines you like. So, I won’t bother with dropping names, but I’ll suggest keeping the summer heat in mind. When we think of a cool wine on a summer’s day, white wines like pinot gris spring to mind, but don’t discount the reds. Most are best served around 60° (Fahrenheit, of course. We’re talking America here, for Pete’s sake) which is enough to the edge off a summer’s day. A few can go even lower. I won’t suggest Beaujolais for the Fourth (again, America – not France). But since the Beaujolais region is within a couple of hundred miles of the birthplace of the French hero of the American Revolution, the Marquis de Lafayette, you’ll get a pass as long as you toast his Lordship at the outset. Otherwise, stick to pinot noir, gamay and other fruit-forward styles and chill them mercilessly. I’ll even look the other way if you decide to drop in an ice cube, as long as I didn’t pay too much for the bottle.

If you want a spirits option, there are a plentitude of choices; the aforementioned gins are one of the smallest sets of options. The granddaddy of them all is that most native of American spirits, bourbon. By law and international agreement bourbon may only be made in the United States (there are a few other requirements we’ll talk about at a later date) and it forms a long and storied part of our nation’s heritage. Of course, not all those stories are true, but no matter. If it was good enough for Daniel Boone, it’s damn sure good enough for me. For the heat of summer, I like it on the rocks or with soda. If you have the ambition or can pay someone, forming it into a mint julep will make you part of a tradition dating back to the colonial era and offer you refreshment and relaxation all in the same cup. Silver julep cups optional but strongly recommended, particularly south of the Mason-Dixon.

If you’re looking for something more akin to what the founding fathers drank, you might pour a tipple of Laird’s Applejack from the oldest distiller in America, recipient of license #1 from the Department of the Treasury back in 1780. Mind you, the distillery was around before the Department of the Treasury so we can mark that down as a formality. Prior to the Revolution, none other than George Washington himself sent a letter requesting Robert Laird’s recipe. At that point, Robert was already the 4th generation of the Laird distilling dynasty. Their product has aged well. Seek it out and drink it. There are 2 bottles sitting in my bar as I type. In fact, hold on a moment while I go pour some.

Ahh, that’s much better. As you might deduce from the Laird’s story, apples were an important part of colonial drinking and cider was the way to go. In the early days of the republic, we drank a lot more cider than beer. The beer was, well, odd. Squash ales and the like. Best not to think too deeply about it and pop open a cider or two (domestic, of course).

Rum was also a favorite of early America. Interesting examples are popping up around the country, but it’s hard to ignore Puerto Rico. While the good people of the commonwealth don’t yet have full representation in Congress, they do have some fine rum. Bacardi is the best known example (and perfectly satisfactory), but it’s made there for a corporation headquartered in Bermuda. If you’re out shopping, keep an eye open for Don Q, the best-selling rum on the island, and Ron de Barrillito, an old, respected label with a nice depth of character.

If some other spirit is your preference, you’ve got some choices. Despite the freight of the Cold War, vodka has become a quintessential American choice. It’s the best-selling spirit in the country and some of the best examples are made right here. I’ll likely start my celebration off with a Bloody Mary made with Tito’s as pictured. In this case, I’ve infused it with celery, black pepper and bay leaves to make a savory base, but right out of the bottle, it’s a strong choice. And it’s made from that most American of grains, corn.

Whatever you choose to drink, be safe and have a very happy Fourth!

[hello-dently]

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[greathaven]

[SeaWyrm: Get him to show you where Felna is.]

"I can relate," you tell him.

He continues. "If I'm bein' honest, this place ain't gonna work out for too much longer neither. Especially at the rate we're picking up outsiders... no offense."

"I don't want to stay anyways," you say, waiting for a chance to interject. "Do you know how I can get my bandanna back? It was a gift from a friend."

He doesn't get what you mean at first. "Your what? You mean that blue shawl you were wearin' when you ran into Felna? Pretty sure they took that back to Farragus so they could see if it were one of theirs; non-scouting members aren't allowed to have neckwear or magical items. Maybe you ought to see them after all, but..."

"...You're gonna have to get past Rye first."

You can sense that Felna and the rest of the chieftains are a short walk through a tunnel past that door.

"She'll put up one helluva fight, too. And I'd much rather watch the fights outside." The rumbling of the audience outside is louder down here. You thank him, and he begins to head up top, saying that you can meet him again by climbing until there's nothing left to climb. Though you can't say you're too excited about rubbing elbows with the locals just yet.

[greathaven]

[Wheat: have a look around here and immediately outside.]

Through this hole in the wall, you can see that you're quite a ways up. There are lots of cool lights, and from the sounds of things, lots of people too. You wonder what's going on.

But you also wonder what's higher up. The air resonates with deep and regular regular clunks of metal, the spaces between which are filled with silent Hiiri chatter. The smell of oil and wet hay is overwhelming - it's a familiar scent, but somehow distinct from the den in Loroni. This place has magic-based heating, or you assume so, because even with an open window behind you, you're not standing in freezing night winter air.

You can sense that the size of this clan is over twice that of your old one, but most of them appear to sleep at this time; you can hear snippets of their dreams. You would join them, but you can't stand the noisiness yourself.

[a52: What are those green things?]

You've already had your fill of food after the local chieftains made a scene out of bringing you here. There's still a lot of melon bread left over, and all those dried fruits and meats - it makes for excellent comfort food, but you're mostly over what happened earlier today. You've been through worse. Probably.

They sure have a lot of food, though. You'll be damned if these guys aren't sitting on something good.

...You miss your bandanna.

[Anonymous: Look around and see if you can find the leaders]

Well, you were going to sulk for a few days, but you suppose now is as good a time as any to start moving again - it felt like you were here just last week, but you know that's not true. You call the attention of someone listlessly hanging out, much like you are, and climb up next to them.

"...Pardon me," you ask. "Do you know where I can f-"

"Whutzat? Speak up, I can't hear ya, son."

The interruption reminds you of the bad taste you've had in your mouth since a few hours ago. But you were raised to be patient. "...Do you know where I can find the chieftains? I wanna know how to get out of this place."

"What?" His face twists in confusion until it looks like he realizes something. "Ooh, heck, you're that kid what stole a shawl to join the market raid. You've got guts."

"No," you say. "That isn't what happened. Where can I find the chieftains?" you ask again.

"The usual place. Why, are y'gonna take back that apology?"

You shudder, but somehow keep your composure. The worst is over now, and you tell yourself it's time to bounce back. "Where is the usual place? I'm... I'm not really from around here."

"Uh. They're down below, then, with Farragus and them. T'see about Felna's wound. I doubt they'll let you near her right now." He shifts his weight to begin standing up. "I can't sleep with the show going on tonight, so I figured I would go up top to watch it. It looks like you can't sleep neither, so I'd let you join me if you like."

You tell him you'll have to think about it.

"...Well, you've seen enough blood today, any which way. But if you're new here, I'll show you around - 'nless you really wanna see how Felna was doing. Up to you."

Hearing that makes you think sulking wasn't a bad idea after all.