#labyrinthplateau2021

[ostianshadow]

breadcrumbs

[ @houseofreglay​ ]

[Labyrinth 2021 - Plateau]

“Matthew, why there you are.”

The sage found him after the group scattered from the docks, tackling their respective investigatory leads. Unusually, Pent appeared almost sheepish, glancing down at a neatly folded slip of paper in his hands. Wrinkled, as if he had been fidgeting at the corner for the entire trip into Caledonia.

(The contents scrawled in Pent’s shorthand were simple, outlining the time, place and circumstances of their arrival. If the spy could still decipher some of the notation used by Etruria’s elite–he shouldn’t, but Pent wasn’t going to pry if he didn’t probe too much either–he might have even been able to make out some of Pent’s own thoughts and notes leading up to the mooring of their boat.)

“I have.. A favour, of sorts, to ask of you.” He offered Matthew the folded page, fingers lingering on the creases. “Not confidential by any means–there is nothing you or any one of us don’t already know also–but seeing as you deal in information, I ask you keep this safe until we leave again.”

It was the kind of greeting Matthew would never get used to. No matter his line of work, people looking for him by name never failed to set the hairs at the nape of his neck tingling - especially when it was people he’d not been quite expecting to be looking for him in the first place.

He met the mage with his usual ghost of a smile - certainly amicable enough to fool any who didn’t know better, albeit guarded behind a wary interest. And yet, seeing the Etrurian in the flesh, the spy’s posture relaxed some. He trusted Pent… to an extent. Heart-to-hearts had the odd tendency of affording a certain confidence.

“Here I am,” he echoed, his tone the very picture of ‘casual.’ The other’s countenance wasn’t lost on him.  Brow quirked in question. His curiosity burned all the brighter.

Eyes cracked wide, betraying a mote of surprise - and, perhaps, a tinge of amusement. Without much fanfare, Matthew plucked the proffered paper between index and middle fingers, before tucking it carefully away.  

“Well… Suppose I might still owe ya a bit.” His smile rang genuine. “I’ll look after it, yeah. Thanks for entrusting me with it. Or, if that’s not sappy enough for ya,” a chuckle interrupted the thought, “I could wax poetic and offer that I’d lay down my life for it… But I suspect you’d know I were lying.”

Even still, some part of him was rather tickled to have been approached. He’d have to do that trust justice.

“Hmmm… I won’t ask what it’s for. But I have to say: were you always this much of a target for mosquitoes?”

[keen-kin]

Wrestler? I hardly know ‘er (f!Byleth)

With shiny knights and aristocratic brats being the talk of the town, Nessie brings the attention to herself again with a mud-wrestling tournament to welcome you all with. No prizes, of course, but what’s a broke girl to do about that? Sidebets are already abound, and muscle-bound, charismatic Nessie is the favorite to beat. Make your own bets if you have the cash, or get down and dirty with the rest of them. 

Larcei was more used to being on this side of the arena than one would expect for one of noble birth. Mingling with the crowd, she was reminded of her times back in Jugdral, cheering on Scáthach as he fought on, placing bets on him for a lil extra cash, good times. And being back here, she was being swept back into the gambling atmosphere. From watching the matches so far, it was clear that betting on anyone who was up against Nessie was a bad idea.

The problem was, everyone else knew that too. So whenever she stepped into the arena, it was impossible to find anyone to place a bet with. Ah well, it wasn’t all about the money, it was good entertainment too. As the next match began, she cheered with the crowd.

She wasn’t so caught up in the match that she didn’t notice a familiar face. Her teacher, standing at the edge of the crowd, watching the match with the same blank expression she always seemed to wear. Larcei barged her way through the crowd to join her, apologising for stepping on a sailor’s foot as she went. “Hey teach, got an interest in mud wrestling?”

@ashenprofessor

[theofficersacademy]

The Caledonian Plateau, due west of Garreg Mach, has long resisted development despite being firmly in Empire territory. The muddy terrain and dense swamps are a nightmare to traverse, but those same qualities have been embraced by those that value privacy beyond the watchful eyes of government bodies. Privacy that the Church has respected until now, that is.

TEAM MEMBERS

Pelleas, Sharena, Larcei, Farina Matthew, Fernand, Charlotte, Clair Inigo, Flayn, Pent, Byleth, Gatekeeper

TEAM TAG: #LabyrinthPlateau2021

Locations:

Pennywell: A waterlogged village in the dense, forested swamps of the Caledonian Plateau. Reed-woven huts sit on floating islands, and it takes knowledge and a trained eye to tell where the bog will support your weight and where it will not. At the heart of the village sits an ancient alder tree with coins nailed to the bark, surrounding a simple carving of a pregnant woman with wyvern horns. Simple fishermen are said to make their home here, but their muscular bodies and their deft handling of their tridents and nets perhaps hint at just why both the Empire and the Church have allowed them some form of autonomy with no lords to answer to.

The Mosquitos' Perch: A seedy tavern at the outskirts of Pennywell. Because of how out of the way it is from well-travelled roads, it often serves as a rest stop for travelers looking for discretion and staff willing to forget names and faces by morning. The denizens of Pennywell are normally not involved in any shady business that might pass through their little village, but they are just as willing to look the other way if it means enjoying their local alcoholic specialties.

Gambling is a popular pastime across the Plateau, since there isn't much in the way of entertainment otherwise. The staff keeps a wealth of dice and cards handy in case someone is in the mood for a game. Proving your skill in these games is a surefire way to earn their respect.

People of Interest:

Tara: A plain-looking widow in her late 40’s, she is the seventh generation owner of The Mosquitos' Perch. She's an unassuming woman, firm but fair, and amicable to the students. Being a personable and neutral lady (and good at de-escalation) helps her keep the village safe when there's always trouble walking through the door. Respected by patrons, and disrespecting her in any way means that you're in the belly of the nearest swamp monster by sundown. Because of her position in the town, she is considered the unofficial liaison between the church and Pennywell by both parties, and it's clear that it's stressing her out.

Nessie: A young woman in her early 30’s, dressed in a colorful motley of fabrics that toes the line between a wealthy mercenary and a down-on-her-luck court jester. A self-described "wanderer", she hails from Bergliez territory, though that piece of information had to be dragged out of her by the local patrons. She's been under the tavernowner's care since she arrived floating in the rivers "like chewed-up driftwood". Has a gnarly wound on her face wrapped in bandages. She's happy enough to weave a tale on how she had fought a Crest Beast before coming here, but that is the only consistent detail across the many extravagant tales she tells. Now that she's regaining her strength, her personality as a gambler and brawler is finally shining. Pretty gullible and not one to turn down a challenge, especially an exciting one, and loves to show off.

Vetch: A cynical barfly in his early 50’s. He's clearly distrustful of the Church and quick to pull out one of his many conspiracy theories: that the Saints still walk among us, that there is a secret society called the Evil Eye that is behind every bad thing that happened in the past decade or so, and that elixirs are just upcharged vulneraries with a different label so that they can line the pockets of Big Pharma. Frequently grouses about "the youth" and prone to wagging his finger at any bothersome teenager, or anyone younger than him for that matter.

Things to Do:

If you’re going to be searching the swamps, you better start learning how to traverse it. Get some sturdy shoes and build up your sealegs by learning how to steer a boat through the river!

Legends of aquatic crest-beasts ruling the swamps are common stories back in school, but your journey here gives you your first glimpse at the real thing: a massive long-necked reptilian creatures breaches the water’s surface, a crocodile’s carcass clenched in its jaws. But such terrifying monsters can easily keep the village fed for days, and you can’t help but wonder what crestigator stew tastes like. It’s dangerous quarry, that’s for sure, but that’s all part of the thrill of the hunt!

With shiny knights and aristocratic brats being the talk of the town, Nessie brings the attention to herself again with a mud-wrestling tournament to welcome you all with. No prizes, of course, but what’s a broke girl to do about that? Sidebets are already abound, and muscle-bound, charismatic Nessie is the favorite to beat. Make your own bets if you have the cash, or get down and dirty with the rest of them.

Though Tara is wary of anyone other than her manning the bar, she can’t deny that she needs the help now that there are a dozen more people here. However, she seats Vetch right across from you, ever quick to criticize your mistakes and lament the decline of Fódlan youth. Playing some games with him with the dice under the counter ought to temper his anger, though part of you wonders if extra booze would get that done quicker...

Your justice senses are tingling, and for good reason: you haven’t gotten a good look at them, but their dark cloaks and strange masks are shady enough for you to go out and investigate. Pennywell may be no stranger to the seediest people of Fódlan, but that doesn’t mean you have to stand for it!

[theindigoflirt]

Swamp Booze

> starter for @hycanitho

      This entire forsaken place reminds him of the Midmire. Mud as far as the eye can see, making everything feel dirty and damp. The dense overgrowth of trees only adds to the misery; trapping both moisture and heat, Inigo feels like a sweaty beacon for the infernal mosquitoes buzzing everywhere.

      How he wishes he was back in Ferox, or even the dry deserts of Plegia. Anything except this. Something whines by his ear and he almost slaps the side of his head. Gods, what a way to go. Here lies Inigo: Eaten alive by mosquitoes. No wonder the inhabitants of Pennywell wear such thick layers, even in the oppressive humidity.

      Such opinions are kept to himself as he squelches along to the aptly named Mosquitos’ Perch. “Doing alright up there, my lady?” Inigo calls to Clair, her hands digging into his shoulders, heeled shoes swinging by his thighs. After a long march and an even longer process setting up camp, the prospect of a nice drink sounded wonderful. Privately, Inigo worries that whatever passes for alcohol here is really just aged swamp water, but that’s just mean. And since Clair almost dueled him over the completely innocent quest for a mistletoe kiss, it’s only right he extends the offer to her.

      On the condition that he carries her the entire way there.

      Squinting, Inigo barely makes out the lantern light through the trees. Thank Naga. Any longer and he’d willingly become one with the swamp. “A little further, Lady Clair!” Five minutes later he gently deposits Clair onto the threshold of the tavern. One hand presses into the small of his back as he straightens.

      “First drink is on me, as promised!” Flashes a pained smile. Ugh, and he’ll have to do this all over again on the return to camp… “Ladies first,” with a bow, he points towards the door (Really, he just wants a chance to catch his breath without seeming weak.)

[making-dough]

Down and Dirty - & Larcei

With shiny knights and aristocratic brats being the talk of the town, Nessie brings the attention to herself again with a mud-wrestling tournament to welcome you all with. No prizes, of course, but what’s a broke girl to do about that? Sidebets are already abound, and muscle-bound, charismatic Nessie is the favorite to beat. Make your own bets if you have the cash, or get down and dirty with the rest of them.

♠  ~ The shouts of the crowd echoed all around, excitement clear in their roars. No doubt they were there for the spectacle that being, of course, Nessie’s Grand Pennywell mud-wrestling competition. In particular, its latest match, starring yours truly, the most well-paid mercenary in all Elibe. Though, to be fair, she quite understood them. If she wasn’t in the ring herself, Farina would have been right out amidst the crowd, trading bets and making jokes. It wasn’t as though there were much other spectacles in this muddy, swampside town. 

So, while she was here, she may as well give them a show, as befitting of any arena across Elibe. With a light spin on her heel, Farina paused for a brief moment, turning to blow a kiss into the air and a flirty wink to the crowd. The shouts only grew louder. The mercenary only laughed heartily and turned to face forwards once more, enjoying the cool, squishy feeling of mud between her toes.

Oh, she’d kicked her boots off ages ago. Didn’t seem like the sort of the thing that’d seemed quite right in the ring. Actually, she’d stripped herself of everything but smallclothes. Besides, the swampy air felt a ton more comfortable on her bare skin. Though, no doubt Fiora would have something to say about her current lack of attire but, eh, Fi wasn’t even around. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

Proud, confident (and squelchy) steps brings the blue-haired mercenary closer to the centre of the makeshift arena, a ring of villagers and some flimsy ropes forming a loose circle around them. She soon finds her latest opponent, a certain black-haired girl with chocolate brown eyes. A smug, playful smirk spreads its way across her lips. May as well give the crowd some pre-match trash talking while she was at it. “Well, hello there, darling! The name’s Farina! Welcome to the arena! Now, tell me. Ya ready ta eat dirt?” Well, admittedly, it was a little uncreative but it worked. 

Slim fingers lock themselves and pull forwards into a lazy stretch. In fact, she was feeling so confident that she was willing to let the other girl make the first move. Well, why not? She was pretty sure she could take whatever the other girl could dish out.

@keen-kin

[cotharach]

DID... DID YOU JUST PUNCH GREAT FUNKLE GATOR?!?

starter for @cashandaxes

Reptilian creatures bursting with crest energy, long necked and ancient, lurking in the darkest depths of Fodlan— why, Flayn feels almost homesick! Strange it may be to see this 4′11 maiden march through marshes and swim through swamps, but the resolve housed in the emerald flames of her gaze says all;; she was not here to play around.

Her skirt tied up to her knees and her boots thoroughly flooded, she wades through the slushy, muddy waters eagerly, whispering the nothings of a long dead language as she readies herself for what might be the closest thing to a family reunion she’s had in centuries.

( yet as she treads, her heart cannot help but sink ; she knows, does she not? that they are gone. truly, truly gone. and that this scaled beast of boggy terrors is nothing more than an image of what they could have been. of nostalgic wants and desires never to be fulfilled again...... )

A hiss interrupts her rampant thoughts, followed by the sharp SNAP of jaw and carcass bone in marriage.

Flayn gasps, muddied hands clasping over her mouth.

“It has been so long,” she whispers, her voice trembling;; tender as she could be for one waist-deep in marshland, “but I am here now, my fellow scaled soul...”

Slit-sharp pupils greet her, yellow scleras boring holes through her. The beast is larger than she expects, but perhaps it came from a further down branch of the family tree. In its wide, bloodied maw sits its last meal— a reptile of smaller size, whose corpse had been decimated to near non-recognition. It stares at her, unblinkingly, as a creature without eyelids would. She smiles.

“How does it feel to be take up such a form, I wonder?” Flayn asks, looking up to it, eager for conversation.

The beast snaps at her, a hiss erupting from the deep cavern of its throat. The nabatean only laughs.

“Is that really so? It must be lots more fun. I must admit, I find myself missing the space I used to take up...”

In an ideal world, Flayn and the beast would have simply sat there, exchanging noises of varying degrees of coherence. However, the world is not perfect, and this reptilian friend is more fiend to others, and so it is only inevitable that someone come hunting it down anyways.

It comes out of nowhere— one moment she’s sat down on a rock, chatting away with Great Funkle Gator ( she’s taken the liberty of bestowing a name upon it ), and the next—— CRRRACK!

“GODDESS ABOVE!”

Flayn screams as a flying flash surges forward, landing what is unmistakably a fierce-fisted punch right smack down on his nostrils. Great Funkle Gator throws its head backwards, a terrifying ROAR splitting the still air in twain. The saint blinks— right, she hadn’t come here alone. She should have considered the possibility that someone from her party would follow her...

Still, she’s not the time for such considerations at the moment, any and all logic tossed aside in favor for filial fear. Flayn looks upon the scene with great horror, her mouth hanging agape and her eyes wide as the full moon.

“DID... DID YOU JUST PUNCH GREAT FUNKLE GATOR?!?”

[ostianshadow]

the swamp people... they’re real

>> Labyrinth: The Caledonia Plateau [open event thread!]

The creature shambled through the muck, dragging its feet like they were lead. T’was a strange beast that made for the Mosquito’s Perch, full of reeds and leaves and mud and grime and saint-knew-what-else. (Didn’t want to think about it.)

Single-minded in its pursuit, it ambled onward. Didn’t stop to think what had brought it to this point, no. Certainly not. (Saint. Had there been more people on the boat? What had happened to the boat?) Didn’t stop to think about what it might look like on the other side, wandering forth looking such a mess, no. (It’d probably take weeks to scrub everything away. Uuugh.)

Moaning his discomfort, Matthew reached shore at long last,

before pressing ever onward.

[keen-kin]

Pier pressure

Starter for @cotharach

A small pier in the village of Pennywell, the swamp’s water almost flowing over the edge. Larcei hadn’t been in this village for long, but she was already ready to leave. The air was too musty, the entire place was too dark for her liking, and she’d already lost her footing and fallen into the water at least twice. Lucky her that this expedition was on the table. 

Looking down into the water, there were a handful of boats. Larcei had been shown the smallest - a tiny raft, only just big enough for two, with a pair of oars. She’d been on boats before, yes, but never one this small, and Larcei had no experience actually steering or powering one. Ah well, you learn something every day. Looking over at her partner for this, she wondered if she had any ideas. “Have you ever rafted through a swamp before?” 

The advice given was simple and straightforward - the centre of weight needed to be at the centre of the boat, otherwise it’d tip over. And so, Larcei stepped confidently onto the centre of the boat, her intent being to help Flayn in afterwards. In reality, the boat was more sensitive than she’d anticipated, and the raft wobbled uncertainly beneath her. She almost slipped right into the water, but was able to catch herself at the last second. 

She decided to sit down straight away, lest she lost her balance again. At the very least, she was safe from a watery start to the day, even if her pride was hurt. She tried to ignore the eyes of anyone nearby, who may be finding joy in her ineptitude. Instead, she just beckoned to her partner to come down, hoping she’d have an easier time with it. “Good luck!”

[cotharach]

bogchamp —— plateau mini

open for all! 

Mud dances through the air in ribboned streaks, a spectacle of dirt and grime and human whimsy near-reaching the heavens as fists and legs and other extremities fly. The makeshift arena, in all its flooded, wooden board and nail glory, trembles with each roar of the crowd, every punch and lunge only serving to rouse further emotion.

Were her father here, he would surely disprove of such things—— muddied brawls were the pastimes unbefitting a girl her age. But here she stands, alone, far from Seteth’s influence, packed in between an ever-noisy mass of people.

                                                                                                                  ( and so, she cheers freely. )

“I had not anticipated witnessing such things when I had come here,” Flayn murmurs, her eyes ne’er leaving the center, “but I suppose it is all part of the thrill of adventure!”

( One of the brawlers tackles the other onto the ground with a sickening crunch. The crowd cringes. Flayn shudders;; okay, maybe that one wasn’t as much of a thrill... )

[making-dough]

All in the Cards - & Matthew

ToaLabyrinth2021 Team Valley Event Thread Starter

Though Tara is wary of anyone other than her manning the bar, she can’t deny that she needs the help now that there are a dozen more people here. However, she seats Vetch right across from you, ever quick to criticize your mistakes and lament the decline of Fódlan youth. Playing some games with him with the dice under the counter ought to temper his anger, though part of you wonders if extra booze would get that done quicker...

♠  ~ The pungent scent of cigar smoke filled the air. The squeaking of chairs echoed across the wooden floorboards. Seven strangers gather around a wooden table top, their focused faces hidden behind a hand full of cards. 

Amongst this number was one blue-haired mercenary, fingering at her own hand of cards with a playful grin. To her, this was familiar territory. A few games of cards in a tucked-away backroom in a seedy out-of-the-way tavern? Why, that practically described half the games she’d played back in Port Badon. 

But, well, there was an ulterior motive behind this one. Apparently, they’ve been sent on the search for one of these fancy-ass ‘Relics’ and this grizzled gramps Vetch here knew something. Of course, he wasn’t going to say a word unless they’d ‘impressed’ him so there they all were. Sitting around a table and playing some cards. 

Farina gave her hand a brief peek and then slammed it down for all to see, a flash of a triumphant grin at her lips. “Hahah! Straight aces, fellas! Read ‘em and weep!” There was a series of groans across the table as the mercenary reached forwards and dragged the pot of gambling chips and coins towards herself. There was a delighted cackle and a clicking of coins as Farina began a playful stacking of her new winnings. Ah, this was the life... but, still, wasn’t there something she was missing? 

Ah. As if just barely remembering her real purpose here, Farina flashed a peek briefly towards Vetch to gauge his reaction. He didn’t look at all impressed. In fact, he seemed even more disgruntled. Well, he had good reasons to be. She was cheating. But he shouldn’t know that. She was doing her best to keep it on the down-low. A little hand mucking here. A little card counting there. Nothing too overt. So, he shouldn’t have been able to see it. But, this Vetch gramps still seemed none-too-happy. Was he onto her? 

Well, just in case, Farina turned briefly to give her surroundings a once-over...and to flash a little discreet signal towards her partner. Yeah, she had a partner coming into this one. A sandy-haired totally-not-a-spy she’d recognised from that time she’d signed up to run across Elibe alongside a trio of lordlings. It was one of Lord Hector’s minions. Matthew, if she’d recall the name right. Well, whoever they were, just having Lord Hector’s name behind them made her fairly certain as to their abilities. Now, if he’d go ahead and do something as a distraction, now would be a pretty good time....

@ostianshadow

[greetings-nothing-to-report]

“Well made observations Pelleas and Clair. We will definitely have a lot to report once we leave.” The Gatekeeper replied as he looked around. The first thing that caught his eye was something... not moving but cetainly not not moving? It was a... weird painting in the middle of a table. He walked up to it to examine it a bit.

“Sparkle Stars...” Arum mused curiosly, reading what the screen showed.

“A menu maybe? I know some taverns back home often draw pictures of what they serve. But I don’t know if magic can make paintings or art dance.” Gatekeeper. When Arum tapped the small device it said to remove the card. Army cautiously did and... nothing happened.

As he looked at the card reading Caledonia Casino. He... didn’t know what a casino was. Of course gambling was something he knew about but a casino?

“I can’t make heads or tails of this Professor. Have any idea?” Arum asked.

“The painting seems to change so maybe it can help?”

@ashenprofessor

pirrhyc​:

Barge-ing In? || Team B Plateau

   When Pelleas opens his eyes again, he wonders if he has finally met death, but no, he is breathing and the sights and sounds around him are neither a blessing nor a punishment. At most, they are surreal and unfamiliar, and he considers for a moment if it might be a dream instead.

He is not alone, he realizes, made aware of the presence of a stranger wearing the uniform of Garreg Mach just as he was. He decides this once it is better to be in the company of someone. It would be safer that way, if he is to be ensnared in somewhere bizarre.

Soon enough, their duo becomes a quartet — the gatekeeper and one of the professors joining them, as it were.    “ Ah! No, please don’t worry about that. ”   His nervous laughter from before softly erupts again.   “ Er.. about interrupting us, that is. There was hardly anything to interrupt, really… ”

It looks as if Byleth was quick to cut to the chase. He thinks for a moment of protesting, knowing that typically it is better to stay in one place when lost, but he thinks better of it soon enough. This… wasn’t a normal place to begin with, after all, and she had more authority over him in any case.

“ Well… I was curious about one thing over there, truth be told. ”   Pelleas strides over towards the bar, looking over his shoulder to ensure he would not lose sight of the few companions he had here. Drinks of all colors and varieties line the bar, and the bubbles in the air floating about give off a certain vibe to them, something he wagered that drew him here in the first place.   “ The bubbles concentrated here… They appear to be constructed of light magic. That’s not all though… ”

He gestures them all to look lower then, to the surface littered with spills and snacks galore.  “ This bar… it’s quite messy for being deserted. Some of these glasses still hold drink in them too. I imagine we’re not alone here then, but what chased off our company… I’m not too sure. ”

next: @hycanitho​

Clair knows she should have been terrified––or at the very least worried––to open her eyes to lands unknown. But truth be told, she is elated to be rid of that dreadful swampy plateau, even if she has no idea where she awoke to. Thankfully, she is not alone in this…well, wherever this is. A bar, it seems to be, and an empty one at that. It has an ambience similar to a ghost town. Something is off…but Clair cannot place a figurative finger on it. The professor is there, along with the gatekeeper and one of her classmates. She stands, taking a moment to take in her surroundings––the brightly colored bottles, the smell of alcohol hanging in the air, the floorboards slippery with spilled drinks. 

She follows Pelleas over to the bar under the guise of joining the investigation, careful to step around the puddles pooled on the floor. Truth be told, she merely did not wish to be left alone in this unfamiliar place––even if her companions were just an arm’s length away. She hovers at his side for a moment, listening with rapt fascination as Pelleas describes his examinations aloud. Clair picks up a glass, holding it up to the light and peering at the liquid sloshing about within.

“Well…” She places it back on the bar counter with a thunk. “I sincerely hope the notion has not tempted anyone in the slightest, but it would be ill-advised to drink whatever contents are in this bar. Mila knows what could be in those bottles…”

With a glance about the empty bar, Clair ambles over to one of the abandoned tables surrounded by chairs pushed askew, as if whoever had been sitting there had left in quite a hurry. She is greeted by a curious sight: a plum, floating in a fragrant solution, in a hat. She opens her mouth, then closes it, brow furrowed with something beyond bewilderment.

What on in Mila’s name…? She reaches into the hat and plucks the plum from the pool of aromatic liquid––perfume, she realizes as she draws her hand back to examine the glistening fruit.

She turns, facing her companions, clutching the perfume-soaked plum. “We would be wise to begin searching for an exit. Your theory of patrons being chased off…that may just be correct. And I, for one, have no intention of staying here long enough to verify the truth in that conjecture.”

@greetings-nothing-to-report @ashenprofessor @pirrhyc