#courier pickle

[bl4z33467]

My lovely Fallout perlers. From left to right starting from the top: Gary 32, @irenecatz's Courier Pickle, Colonel Augustus Autumn, @emthesteves's President John Henry Eden, @yourmateyoya's Courier Linda, Preston Garvey, Sir Blaze, Piper Wright, Turpis the Centaur, Mr Fantastic, Vulpes Altilis, Vulpes Novos.

These guys are so fun to make and play with :3

[irenecatz]

art dump like 8 i think

im trying to get the hang of drawing dala because there’s a lot of designs out there for dala that i like and my brain is conflicted. maybe one day i’ll figure it out so i can do a full think tank drawing that would be so cool. oh and also some of those other big mouth bozos. theres pickle too say hi pickle

[slapf1sh]

Art trade between me and the amazing @irenecatz 🫶

Ickle and laze….

[pricklepicklepie]

some of my courier six with benny,, i just think he's neat, okay? U_U

[niightfiend]

Fallout…New Vegas! Again!

[robotwrangler]

He’s just so!!!!!!!!!!!

[cainluvr69]

"Creeping Shadows" Cain SR Card Story - Boiling Sensibilities

Cain: Alright, so let's do this here… And put these herbs in next…

Snow: My, I thought I smelled something nice, and who should I find when I follow the scent but you. What's in that big pot you have? Are you cooking something, perchance?

Cain: Oh, Lord Snow. I'm trying to make that "curry" thing Master Sage was talking about, since it's apparently a camping mainstay.

Snow: …Courier?

Cain: No, curry. It's a kind of soup that's made by just throwing in all sorts of ingredients and boiling them together.

Snow: Ohoho, so a type of cooking you excel at, I see. I recall you saying you were just going to "boil up" breakfast for White and I once.

Cain: Ahaha, did I? Well I mean, pretty much anything in the world can be eaten if you boil or fry it.

Snow: Is that true…? Are you sure…?

Cain: So anyways, Akira and the previous Sage said that curry is spicy, with a brown roux, and that it smells really good.

Snow: I see, I see! So we've got a rather fiery soup on our hands, then. So would those herbs you put in be the finishing touch on the fabled "curry" flavor?

Cain: Honestly? I have no idea.

Snow: What.

Cain: Neither of the Sages could remember exactly what kind or how many herbs or spices are supposed to go into it. So the first time I tried to make it, it didn't really turn out very well, but there's all sorts of herbs growing around here, yeah? I figure if I put in a bunch of the herbs here that are close enough to how they remember it, it'll turn out better this time.

Snow: So you're just shooting blindly until you hit the target????

Cain: I'm being pragmatic about it. And well, I've definitely got the spice, but the color and aroma aren't quite right, I think. Please, Lord Snow. Could you also add something that you think might be good?

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow: Goodness, me too? Why, that sounds… …Super duper fun! Absolutely! But you'll be taking responsibility for it, Cain dearest!

Cain: Of course I will. Alright, let's get back to the hunt now.

Snow: How do these herbs seem to you? If my memory hasn't failed me yet they should add a nice bit of spice.

Cain: Sounds great! Go for it, toss 'em in. Ooh! It's smelling great!

Snow: It's still not exactly brown, though. It's almost minestrone-like.

Cain: Hmm… Oh! How about we add some of those yellow flowers over there?

Snow: Sure, why not! In they go!

Snow & Cain: …! Is this…!!

✦✧☾✧✦

Snow & Cain: We did iiiit!! Clap clap clap!

Cain: The moment we added those flowers, we hit "spicy", "brown", and "smells good" all in one go! Now it's time for the taste test. C'mon, you try it too.

Snow: Huh?! Umm~mm, I think I'd like to hear your review first, Cain dear!

Cain: You sure? Well then, here I go. Munch… …It's good!

Snow: For real?! Then, I suppose I shall as well… Munch. …Goodness, this really is quite divine!

Cain: Right?

Snow: I know I'm the one who added the final ingredients, but goodness, I'm amazed we ended up here with such rando--ahem, pragmatism.

Cain: Ahaha. Maybe you've just got a talent for boiling things up! I only could've done this with your help, Lord Snow. Thank you very much. Yay!

Snow: Ya~ay! High five!

Cain: Alright, lemme go call the Sage. I really hope they like our curry!

Training Episode: Typical Toppings

Cain: Master Sage. Did you enjoy the curry we made the other day?

Akira: Right, I wanted to tell you!! It was absolutely perfectly currylike. Thank you so much for letting me taste something from home.

Cain: Nice! I'm happy you liked it. You were eating it with bread, right?

Akira: Yeah, I wanted to pair it with some carbs. But yeah, next time, I'd really want to have it with rice instead. Oh, and then putting pickled veggies and cheese on top too… Oh, but scallions or egg would be good too. Ohh, my imagination's starting to get away from me now that I'm thinking about home…

Cain: Pickles…? And eggs and cheese? It's a very versatile food, huh.

Akira: It really is. It all comes down to personal preference, of course, but putting on all your favorite toppings is definitely one way to enjoy curry.

Cain: Ooh! Yeah, it did taste like just about anything could go well with it. Then I want to add some fried meat. Not fried as-is like I usually make, but properly breaded 'n stuff. Fried oasis pig meat would probably go great with it.

Akira: …Oh, I know, like katsu curry! We had that in my world, too! In fact it's so common that you'd see it on a store's menu separate from regular curry. I bet you'd love it, Cain.

Cain: Nice, a special Sage suggestion. I'll definitely have to try it out, then. I was just putting stuff in randomly, so I don't know if I'll be able to recreate that exact recipe, but… Next time we're in the area, I'll do my best!

[jumbledbee]

trick kr treat

you get a doodle of Courier Pickle ! merry christmas

[brahmsthirdracket]

jack, luke, their long-suffering father and a flying cow 🐮

Jim can only assume that the charter crew must spend the rest of their flight hours couriering coked-up musicians and weird, smelly tech bros around the country because they don’t bat an eyelid at the sight of his disheveled children.

They really do look ridiculous: Jack is sleepy and unshowered, with one arm immobilized in a sling and the other clutching an enormous cuddly brown cow that’s almost as big as he is; and Luke, who’d shown up in Colorado with a body fluid percentage of approximately sixty percent vodka sours, is shuffling along in two different shoes and his mother’s sunglasses.

In fairness to Luke, he’d been sent a ticket for a red-eye to Colorado at 10 p.m. the night before by his father. In fairness to the father in question, Luke’s twenty damn years old.

Luke had frowned when this had been imparted to him in the VIP lounge at Eagle County Regional Airport, the last few stars giving way to weak, early morning sun. Through the glass of the terminal they the dark mass of the mountains lighten into a brown scrub and patches of unmelted snow.

“Like,” he pauses, brow furrowed, and Jim can practically see the cogs turning slowly in his pickled little brain, like some kind of Smirnoff mill. “I’m twenty so I’m young enough to not be underage drinking, or I’m twenty so I’m old enough to be more resp- responsible?”

“Both!” Jim snarls, trying to lean around Jack and his cow, who are each taking up a seat.

The wind sweeps the grasses on the side of the runway in graceful arcs and rattles the chain link fence. Jack, who’s been subsisting almost exclusively on morphine and ice cream for the last few days, sways unsteadily on the first flimsy step.

“Give me the cow, honey,” Jim tells him from behind, already exasperated.

“No,” Jack grunts out, tightening his hold and hobbling up another step. He hasn’t let go since its surprise appearance at the hospital last night, accompanied by a truly obscene amount of Swiss chocolate. Jim perks up at the thought of the nougat, and he patiently shuffles up the steps behind his son, one step at a time and a palm resting securely on his back the whole way.

Just ahead of them, Luke manages to trip on the top step and is saved from concussing himself on the drinks cart by the ample chest of one of the stewardesses.

“I’m an elite athlete,” he tells her solemnly and walks straight into an overhead locker.

Jim breathes in for four, holds for four and out for four, just like he tells his players. Of course it doesn’t really work and he snaps his eyes open just in time to yank Luke by the scruff of his neck in the direction of a seat before anyone has to call a lawyer.

As requested, the cabin crew have reclined two of the leather chairs that face each other and made them up with sheets, pillows and soft, cream-coloured blankets. After a lifetime of cramped sleeper buses and cheap red-eyes, Jim doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to traveling like this.

Jack - who definitely has got used to traveling like this - toes off his sneakers carelessly and collapses down onto the bed, or as much as he can without putting any weight on one side of his body. The ridiculous cow takes up half the seat but at least it supports Jack’s back so they can wrangle him comfortably on his right side.

“Where did the damn thing come from anyway?” Jim asks again, to no-one in particular as the wheels clunk up into the belly of the plane.

Ellen just gives him her patent did-I-really-marry-someone-this-dense look and goes back to typing up a meds schedule for Luke to follow.

“It’s an alpine cow,” Luke says, completely nonsensically, and snickers.

Jim points a finger at him. “You’re lucky the seat belt sign is on buddy.”

He rummages until he finds the chocolate - Jack won’t mind, he can’t have it anyway because of his diet plan - probably. Luke eyes him hopefully from across the aisle but: “He’ll have a double espresso,” Jim tells the hostess.

Jim settles himself into his comfortable leather seat, breaks into a dark milk nougat and calls the only one of his children who could legally operate heavy machinery right now. Quinn’s rumpled and sleepy face appears after a couple of rings and Jim feels immediately calmer.

“Good game, kiddo,” he says, without preamble.

“Yeah, uh thanks,” says Quinn, shuffling around in the frame.

Jim flips the camera - without having to turn the whole phone around, thank you very much - so Quinn gets a view of Jack cuddled up with his ridiculous cow.

Quinn squints into the camera. “Oh, nice. It actually made it in time.”

“So you sent it?”

“What? No, obviously it was-”

But who it was Jim never gets to hear, because Luke starts suddenly making insistent mooing noises across the aisle. Jim covers the mouthpiece of the phone with one hand.

“Hit him for me, honey,” he calls to Ellen, who just gives Luke a gentle cuff around the back of the head without looking up from her iPad, then runs her fingers through his curls.

One of Jack’s feet is sticking out from under the blankets, still in the bright blue hospital-issue socks with the little no-slip stickers. Even fast asleep, and clearly exhausted, he’s clutching the cow. Oh well. At least he and Quinn have a whole damn house now to store all of their weird crap.

“Dad?”

“Sorry, bud - where were we?” Jim curls a hand around Jack’s foot and squeezes gently as he and Quinn get into the nitty-gritty. The crew will have seen worse than a flying cow. Probably.

[bl4z33467]

Classic Sir Blaze and Courier Pickle art from back in june. Based off of a roleplay with them with @irenecatz

[irenecatz]

Are they a human, ghoul, synth, or something else?

if you can call a lobotomite a human

Are they a canon main character? (Lone Wander, Courier Six, etc.)

formerly the sixth courier for the mojave express, #1 courier in their eyes

What is their SPECIAL?

S 2(-), P 3 (-), E 8, C 1, 10 1 (-), A 10, L 1

What perks or tagged skills do they have?

cannibal, robotics expert, brainless, bloody mess

What is their highest skill? Lowest?

speech(-)/science(+)

Were they born pre-war or post-war?

post-war!

Do they wish they lived before the war / could go back to life before the war?

no, but they’d definitely like to rewind the recent past

Did they live in a vault? If not, have they been inside of one?

no, but they’ve seen vault 21

Where did they grow up? Where do they currently reside?

grew up in a small tribal community somewhere in nevada, now resides in sanctuary

What languages) do they speak?

english, spanish, and robco termlink

What type of education have they received?

very little, got freaking clockwork oranged at big mt

Can they read, write, and/or do math?

cannot read, writing is poor, shit at math

What is the most frightening experience they have endured?

the second battle of the hoover dam

What is their fondest memory?

meeting yes man <3

What is their proudest moment / accomplishment?

not applicable

What is their biggest regret

fighting for the legion

Do they have a job? How do they make a living?

formerly a courier, now they go adventuring with sir blaze

Do they have any disabilities, mutations, or implants / enhancements? Do they have any chronic illnesses?

brain removed, replaced by a tesla coil.

Who (or what) are they emotionally closest to?

if you can call it emotionally close, sir blaze

Who do they consider to be their family?

they’re dead. all of them.

Do they travel alone or with a companion?

traveled with rex, left him at big mt. acquaintances with boone for a short while before leaving to join the legion. they now travel with sir blaze!

Do they have any pets?

GARY!!

How do they feel about physical touch / affection?

they fear intimacy of any kind

Do they have a romantic partner or partners?

^^^

Are they quick to trust others?

NOT AT ALL. in order to gain their trust you must defeat the seven evil exes /ref

How would others describe them / their disposition?

insane. not even a person, really.

What faction(s) are they a member of / allied with?

formerly of the legion, now of the minutemen

What faction(s) do they despise?

LEGION.

What is their moral alignment / karma?

negative karma, chaotic neutral

What decisions have they made or actions have they done that affect their canon wasteland? (Did they blow up Megaton, have they killed/spared any major characters, etc.)

lost the second battle of the hoover dam, ncr driven out of most territories and legion EVERYWHERE. also the big mt might have escaped, unsure

What is their goal in life? What impact would they like to leave when they're gone?

What is their go-to weapon or weapon class?

melee: saturnite fist/ legion gladius.

What is their fight-or-flight response?

flight. they’re good at rubbing

What armor / clothing do they typically wear?

always wear bennys suit. it’s filthy. while in big mt they wore a lobotomite coat over it.

Do they have power armor training? (° j°)

a little

Have they ever saved someone's life? Have they ever killed someone?

they have killed many.

What is the worst injury they have

bullet to the head

What is their favorite radio station?

mr new vegas

What is their favorite song?

I GOT SPURSSS THAT JINGLE JANGLE JINGLE

What is their favorite type of weather?

really sunny

What is their favorite time of the day?

noon

What is their favorite wasteland creature?

RADROACH!!!

What is their favorite meal and drink?

mentats and vodka

What is their favorite smell?

half a quart of paint

Do they have any specific hobbies or talents?

they like catching and collecting bugs

Do they play any sports? How about board games or card games?

they tried caravan once and cried because it was too hard

Do they enjoy reading?

pickle can’t read..

Do they collect anything?

mentats…

What items) do they always have on their person?

multifarious gladius’s, mentats, dinky souvenirs

Do they travel by foot or by other means?

always by foot.

Do they own a Pip-boy? If so, how did they get it?

they have a PIMPboy thank you very much

Can they swim?

they drown. instantly.

What do they think of the ocean?

scary.. i dont know

Do they prefer showers or baths?

they dont bathe.

Are they past, present, or future oriented?

stuck in the past trying to see the present

How do they feel about robots? (Eyebots, Mister Handys, Sentry Bots, etc.)

😏

What is a sensation / texture they cannot stand?

sand underneath their fingernails

Do they believe in luck? Do they have a good luck charm?

they do not

Do they idolize anything / anyone?

caesar, formerly

Are they religious? Spiritual?

there is no hope for them in whatever god they choose

What are their thoughts on chems and alcohol?

I LOVE CHEMS!!! ALCOHOL!! YIPPIIE

Do they have any weaknesses or struggle with any vices?

chems.. alcohol.. yuppie…

Do they need / wear glasses?

wear them for funsies, may or may not be nearsighted

How / where do they generally sleep?

on a pile of mentat tins, sometimes visited by nightmares but usually like a rock

Describe their living space. (How do they decorate it? Does it have running water and/or electricity? Etc.)

average sanctuary house, filled to the brim of mentats. decorated by sir blaze

Describe their eyes.

permanently tinted red from the sheer amount of chems they consume

[capndragn94]

Flora: You gotta promise you won't get mad or tell anyone, especially Finn.

Catra: I promise.

Flora: FINN RENTED A SKIFF WITH A PHONEY LICENSE AND DROVE OUR FRIENDS TO A WIG OUTLET IN ERELANDIA AND THE SKIFF GOT CRUSHED AND THEY'RE OUT OF MONEY AND THEY CAN'T GET HOME AND FINN'S WORKING AS A COURIER AND JUST GOT BACK FROM SEAWORTHY!

Catra: *tranquil fury* Yes. That's a real pickle.

[simplegenius042]

Fallout New Vegas OC - Ryder (The Courier Six)

Further information under the cut:

Here's my Courier for Fallout New Vegas, simply known as Ryder, whose past as of this day remains as mysterious to Doc Mitchell as the doctor's kindness is to Ryder. What she does know is that she is a long-time courier for Mojave Express, has been all over America's wasteland, had gotten the newest package, a platinum chip, to deliver to one Robert Edwin House in the Strip of the Mojave, then got intercepted by Benny, shot in the head and finally left for dead. Ryder's only goal is to retrieve the platinum chip (preferably with as little bloodshed as possible, for reputation sake), deliver the package to House, get paid, and move on in life. Though she finds out that's easier said than done, much to her annoyance.

Ryder is the sixth courier chosen to transport the platinum chip to House, a beautiful and fashionable 35-year-old woman at the height of six feet and short hair. Healthy and energetic, she's naturally adapted to the harshness of the Wasteland, having been born in it. She has average strength, dexterity and hygiene, though after receiving implants at Big MT, she becomes a sort of cyborg, so the latter out of the three is less necessary, though habit has still stuck with her.

Ryder has learned many things over her time traveling as a courier, and though she doesn't remember what age she started, she is well known to have begun messaging before couriering at a younger age than expected, so some of the lessons didn't leave her despite the amnesia from the bullet. Ryder is extremely persuasive in bartering and mediating for a compromise, highly literate to the point she learned several languages, including old Latin, and has quite the creative mind. Practically a chef, engineer, soldier and survivalist in all but name, Ryder has lived and traveled around long enough for her mind to ingrain any information it could on how best to adapt and survive out in the Wasteland, Mojave desert, and using the communities environment against anybody looking to do her wrong. Ryder has got Rizz and Luck in her cards, though her perception can never predict ambushes (as seen with Benny and Caesar's Legion), and her communication, while good, isn't always reliable as she relies on her charm rather than intent. Stealth gets her around decently enough, and though she's not able to understand children, she can get the gist of their wants and needs, especially if they're vocalized. For whatever reason though, nature hates her, with the exception of dogs (not coyotes), especially Rex and Roxie.

Intelligent and sharp-witted, Ryder doesn't at all mind her life, and is satisfied with the choices she's made thus far (especially in her mid-thirties), and couldn't be happier with the experiences she's had (except for the Sierra Madre... she don't talk about the Sierra Madre) and the friends she made along the way. Confident and passionate in doing her job right, House could not have asked for a better professional courier, especially one who's pretty funny (though he'd never admit it). Ryder's spirituality is only really based on what she's seen thus far, and she'd never admit it to either of them, but Joshua and Daniel's words had stuck with her, even when she tends to ignore some of the advice. Ryder's patience has thinned with experience and being shot in the head by a checkered shirt prick. Anxiety though is barely a thought before she brushes it aside.

Ryder is mean, but she hides it behind a veil of professional courtesy, and depending she's dealing with, she can either brave the horrors of the desert or panic at the sight of nuclear warheads counting down in front of her very eyes. Pacifism and violence is merely a choice she must pick from if she finds herself in what her companions like to call "a self-inflicted pickle", which can also be said for her moments of thinking things through and her moments of throwing caution to the wind. Ryder loves debates, because she can either be potentially swayed over by words or continuously drag out the conversation until her opponent forfeits, depending on the reward at the end. She has so very few moments of idealism, she's mostly got a pragmatic mind (when it doesn't bury itself in the sand). Ryder is frugal to the extreme, hoarding her wealth so she has it on hand just in case, and only buying the necessities for her quests. Ryder likes both the indoors and outdoors, as long as there's something to explore (and steal). Yeah no, her poker face isn't that of a distinguished lady of the White Glove society, it is the "honest" mask of a woman who's seen it all to not be deterred by some jerks wearing hockey garments. Ryder is ambitious, possessive of her belongings (and lovers), stubborn to a fault, decisive on how to deal with situations to the point of sabotaging others so things go her way, and is a perfectionist in her profession.

Wealthy and horny, Ryder does have connections with faces that should be familiar but can't remember because of Benny. She never lets him live it down. She even gets Yes Man onboard of never letting Benny live it down (the robot may have had planned out her ambush, but he wasn't the one who shot her in the head and fail to kill her, so he gets a free pass). Her charisma rivals her aggression and competitive nature. She is generous to a healthy extent, helping others whenever she thinks its best to or if it benefits her, though her empathy is quite low, so better have some caps ready to give, or something to trade (possessions, discounts, information, etc). Ryder is deceptive towards everyone (only showing everyone a piece of herself rather than her whole self), and only follows the words of whoever is more practical to work with and can pay her better. She isn't leader material... but she is partner material. Politeness and rudeness really depend on the situation she's in, just as the same as her investment in the politics of the NCR and the Mojave in general, not that she is unwilling to help make change, as long as she benefits from it in some way and doesn't harm her in the long run. Cool, flirty, cute and obedient to the brim, not to mention fun, capable of "forgiveness" even at her scariest, who couldn't ask more in a self-serving master manipulator.

As stated before, her beliefs only go as far from what she's experienced in the desert, and even though the Mormons may have said some things that try to break through her thick skull, she wouldn't say she believes in higher powers, even less fate and destiny (no matter how many cryptic projecting monologues Ulysses throws at her). However, she's definitely a believer in magic, because there are things even science is perplexed about her experiences in the Wasteland, and the Mojave. She thinks there is someone worth loving out there waiting for her, but she just hasn't met them yet. Ryder has lived long enough as a courier (before and after the incident with Benny) to understand that simply labelling things as "good" and "evil" is reductive and often times ignoring the cracks in other factions. However she won't deny there are some truly evil, repulsive and selfish people out there, like Vulpes, Cook-Cook and Domino, just to name a few. However, due to her experience and miracles she's faced out in the Mojave, she definitely believes in luck.

Ryder's top priotities is to establish power with whoever is the most organised and strongest faction, ensure her fame is concrete and reputation clean, while keeping her wealth well-accommodated. Her health and praise comes next, with carrying out justice and finding out truth coming next, including ensuring other's opinion on her is anything but negative. Though she initially saw her companions and lovers as anything more than convenient allies or tools, she won't deny, she's grown on them, and would prefer not having them die on her. Though putting her in a situation where she must choose between her ambitions and the only people who've spent time enough to not abandon her immediately, it would be a rather sadistic choice to put her through, and a difficult one at that.

Her SPECIAL stats include:

Strength (5), Perception (6), Endurance (8), Charisma (7), Intelligence (9), Agility (6) and Luck (10).

Tag Skills include:

Speech, Repair, Barter, Guns and Survival.

Main Perks:

Better Criticals, Black Widow, Cherchez La Femme, Jury Rigging, Terrifying Presence and Heave, Ho! Demolition Expert.

Traits she has include:

Wild Wasteland and Good Natured (ironically).

Template below:

[niightfiend]

Another FNV post ! 🎉

[blackjackkent]

Aight, I've only got a couple hours before GW2 raids tonight but I THINK that I am pretty much done with exploring the Rivington area, at least for now. Which is good, because the last chunk was just a lot of wandering around that didn't give me a lot to hang character stuff/drabbles off of (although I tried).

Looking at my quest journal, everything still on hand seems like it needs to be followed up on inside the city proper. So onwards we go! (Although for some reason, the "Steal a Githyanki Egg" quest from the creche didn't get closed with all the other Act 1 stuff. :P Odd.)

A few last exploration things crop up as we start heading towards the gate to the city, starting with this:

This pinged a perception check from someone (Karlach, I think), so I guess we're supposed to climb down. This leads us to what would be a rather pretty little area if it weren't for the dead refugee.

I wandered around here but there didn't seem to be anything to find except more dead refugees, most of whom were carrying pot lids for no immediately obvious reason. There was also a stone door at the far end but I couldn't figure out how to open it.

Back above ground, we overhear a town crier shouting about Duke Stelmane being killed. The Emperor chimed in, hearing about the death of his old business partner: "Stelmane is dead? This does not bode well."

"With Stelmane murdered," Jaheira comments, "the Council has an open seat. How timely."

We actually heard about this earlier but I guess the Emperor wasn't paying attention at the time.

Everyone is shouting in this area - mostly Baldurians arguing with refugees and being real dicks about it. There's also a poster up for Gortash:

Uh oh.

"Gortash is being named Archduke?" Hector says, sounding very worried. "Time to pay Wyrm's Rock a visit."

Before that, though, a quick peek inside the last building in Rivington that we haven't explored, "Sword Coast Couriers".

"Welcome to Sword Coast Couriers - to Send and to Serve," the man at the desk says brightly. "Delivery not guaranteed."

"Wait, delivery not guaranteed?" Hector asks, befuddled yet again by the strangeness of city life.

"Well, we've had to change the policy. Hard to send letters by road when there's a rampaging army of fanatics bearing down on you. I'll tell you - it's left me in a right pickle. I've sent what I can by pigeon, but now something's attacking them and all! 'Become a postmaster, Danzo. It'll be easy.' Nobody mentions having to spend your evenings hunting for pigeon carcasses, do they?"

Aha. This explains those letters we picked up from the tressym's nest on the roof of the monastery. Hector puts a hand on them in his pack, but squints at the postmaster uncertainly. The content of those letters was not entirely savory - one was harmless enough, but one was about starting a war, and one was about the Zhentarim black market.

"I'd be happy to take a look," he finally says slowly.

The postmaster looks pleased. "Well, er... if it's not too much trouble, I'd be much obliged. Any letters you find, bring them back to me - unopened, of course - and there's some gold in it for you."

Well, the ship has definitely already sailed on the "unopened" part. Hector sighs. No point in trying to be subtle about it - not that he's any good at hiding things anyway. "I found the letter intended for the Zhentarim," he says pointedly. "It made for very interesting reading."

The dwarf pales. "You-- you read it?" Then he swells with indignation.

"Technically that's interfering with someone else's property! I should report you to the nearest manip!"

Hector just looks at him steadily. It only takes a moment for him to back down. The contents of the letter are far more illegal than Hector's behavior, and he knows it. "Tell you what," he goes on, more ingratiatingly. "Give it here, and we'll say no more about it. I'll give you a nice little bonus as well. A finder's fee. What do you say?"

Hector shrugs, withdrawing his hand from his pack - without the letter. His earlier conversation with Karlach - about not letting himself get swept up in the criminal machinations of the city, not compromising his morals - is still fresh in his head, and while reporting this man is not high on his to-do list, he's not going to facilitate whatever business he's trying to pull off under the table.

"No, thanks," he says, deliberately mild. "I'm keeping the letter."

"You bloody arse-rat!" For a moment, Hector thinks the shorter man might take a swing at him - but the postmaster looks him up and down, then looks at Karlach and the others, and seems to think better of it. "Fine," he spits. "Keep it. Much good it'll do you. Go on - get out of my post house. We're closed."

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Friday 28 December 1832

7

11 20

F45° at 7 a.m. fine rather white frosty morning and breakfast at 8 20 – with my father – Had Charles H- about locks to library passage doors etc. – at my desk at 9 35 – till 12 50 with ½ hours’ interruption – looking over coal plan – took it down to my father to be sure of the names of the fields – ½ hour downstairs with my father and then with my aunt – then drawing out instructions for Mr. Parker for the coal lease to Mr. Rawson – Letter this morning from Miss Bolland, dated Stockport – acknowledging the receipt of the £12.10.0 and saying her mother had resided with her at Swinton for the last six months – was there now, and would be there some weeks longer – while Miss Bolland was away with her sister, Mrs. Graham, during the vacation – very proper letter – I shall never find in my heart to throw the money into chancery – went out at 1 ¼, and with Pickles and his son John finishing the stubbing of the hedge in James Smiths’ upper brow, and then James Smiths’ cart bought into Charles H-‘s acre field 3 hollies and a couple of hazels and had Pickles planting these in my walk – (the good largeish holly next to the great hazel just outside the walk-railing at the bottom of Calf croft) left him at 3 ½ and at Lidgate in 25 minutes at 3 55 - Miss W- gone to H-x met the carriage in 2 or 3 minutes returned and sat with Miss W- till 6 5 - sent off her letter yesterday to Miss Bentley   then miserable about it    heard bad account of Mr A- today and miserable again   roused and comforted her advised her going with me    talked and planned about it  and left her saying that she almost thought she should have courage   thought as I returned    it did not signify she would doubt and hesitate again and I could be off    what can I be about to run such a risk of having her! home in ½ hour (very thick damp evening could scarce see to get along) at 6 25 – dinner at 7 – afterwards sat in my own room but asleep over the fire till 9 – wrote the last 11 lines – went downstairs at 9 20 -  Miss W- called here this morning and saw my aunt and Marian – read over the courier – came upstairs again at 10 ½ - F47° at 10 40 – Thick damp day – frosty in the morning – thaw when I went out at 1 20