No Shortage of Tea-rouble (Renown) [Private]
Jul 23, 2023 18:30:45 GMT -5
Post by Kvasir Sigurrós on Jul 23, 2023 18:30:45 GMT -5
Kvasir is starting to wonder if he can so much as get a drink without running into some form of trouble.
It isn’t especially often that he manages to get more than a short amount of time away from the Desert Rose, lately– sure, sometimes there are day trips out to the markets of the Oasis every now and then, brief house calls, or a day or two to travel down to Kings’ Valley or up to the Ash Lands for work purposes, but for the most part, he spends the majority of his time there. It’s hardly as though he’s complaining, of course; as strange as it is to have a place to settle after years of wandering, both before and after his memories fell into a king’s palm, it’s nice, too. There’s comfort in knowing he has a safe place to lay his head come nighttime, comfort in closed walls and a solid roof, comfort in the consistency of waking in the same place every morning– and he’s hesitant to let that slip through his fingers again.
…However, the threads of a nomadic spirit were sewn into his soul years ago, back when he still ventured across the desert with his first love, and so it’s inevitable that too long of remaining in the same place would eventually become an itch beneath his skin, a silent urging to venture back out beneath the open sky. Not forever, of course, but for a little while– longer than the time it takes to get somewhere and back.
And so, he’d entrusted the maintenance of the Desert Rose to Nyr for a short while, leaving his apprentice with ample instructions and guidelines in case he would need them, and Kvasir had set out on a comfortably short trip out to Zeinav City– somewhere not too far from home, but familiar, full of things he knows would bring him enough contentment to last him till his next journey, as well as having some vital supplies he could bring home.
Just a bit of a justification, of course.
So far, it had been going smoothly– he’d settled in a one-bed room in an inn he vaguely remembers passing by or staying in or hearing about some time ago, and had spent one day foraging and another day splurging on cosmetics to drag home and stash away in his bedroom, and today was supposed to be his day to go and get some of his favorite tea before casually wandering through the international market.
Emphasis on supposed to.
As soon as he’d stepped into his favorite cafe in the City, he’d been greeted with chaos– a worker with a bloodied shoulder, a frantic aura buzzing in the air like lightning dances through a storm. Kvasir had been quick to offer the young man medical attention, and in the midst of patching him up, had pieced together the whole story– apparently, some vicious creature capable of taking the shape of ordinary objects had made its home in the storeroom, and would lash out and bite at anyone who ventured back there. And, naturally, very few members of the staff had combat training at all, let alone enough to deal with a creature as tricky and fearsome as that.
And so inevitably, as he tends to do, Kvasir had offered his own aid; and now he stands at the heart of the emptied Banafsheh Cafe, ready to venture back into the storeroom–
Until he hears the door open behind him.
“Ah, I don’t know if anyone’s out there to say it, but this place is… closed down temporarily,” he says quickly before glancing over his shoulder– though he pauses as soon as he gets a good look at the woman standing there. There’s something uniquely powerful about her, some hidden strength flowing through her veins as readily as blood– and yet, he… he isn’t sure of her name. “...Uh, well, hello, friend. I don’t believe we’ve met?”
It isn’t especially often that he manages to get more than a short amount of time away from the Desert Rose, lately– sure, sometimes there are day trips out to the markets of the Oasis every now and then, brief house calls, or a day or two to travel down to Kings’ Valley or up to the Ash Lands for work purposes, but for the most part, he spends the majority of his time there. It’s hardly as though he’s complaining, of course; as strange as it is to have a place to settle after years of wandering, both before and after his memories fell into a king’s palm, it’s nice, too. There’s comfort in knowing he has a safe place to lay his head come nighttime, comfort in closed walls and a solid roof, comfort in the consistency of waking in the same place every morning– and he’s hesitant to let that slip through his fingers again.
…However, the threads of a nomadic spirit were sewn into his soul years ago, back when he still ventured across the desert with his first love, and so it’s inevitable that too long of remaining in the same place would eventually become an itch beneath his skin, a silent urging to venture back out beneath the open sky. Not forever, of course, but for a little while– longer than the time it takes to get somewhere and back.
And so, he’d entrusted the maintenance of the Desert Rose to Nyr for a short while, leaving his apprentice with ample instructions and guidelines in case he would need them, and Kvasir had set out on a comfortably short trip out to Zeinav City– somewhere not too far from home, but familiar, full of things he knows would bring him enough contentment to last him till his next journey, as well as having some vital supplies he could bring home.
Just a bit of a justification, of course.
So far, it had been going smoothly– he’d settled in a one-bed room in an inn he vaguely remembers passing by or staying in or hearing about some time ago, and had spent one day foraging and another day splurging on cosmetics to drag home and stash away in his bedroom, and today was supposed to be his day to go and get some of his favorite tea before casually wandering through the international market.
Emphasis on supposed to.
As soon as he’d stepped into his favorite cafe in the City, he’d been greeted with chaos– a worker with a bloodied shoulder, a frantic aura buzzing in the air like lightning dances through a storm. Kvasir had been quick to offer the young man medical attention, and in the midst of patching him up, had pieced together the whole story– apparently, some vicious creature capable of taking the shape of ordinary objects had made its home in the storeroom, and would lash out and bite at anyone who ventured back there. And, naturally, very few members of the staff had combat training at all, let alone enough to deal with a creature as tricky and fearsome as that.
And so inevitably, as he tends to do, Kvasir had offered his own aid; and now he stands at the heart of the emptied Banafsheh Cafe, ready to venture back into the storeroom–
Until he hears the door open behind him.
“Ah, I don’t know if anyone’s out there to say it, but this place is… closed down temporarily,” he says quickly before glancing over his shoulder– though he pauses as soon as he gets a good look at the woman standing there. There’s something uniquely powerful about her, some hidden strength flowing through her veins as readily as blood– and yet, he… he isn’t sure of her name. “...Uh, well, hello, friend. I don’t believe we’ve met?”
Locals have asked for help in dealing with a rather nasty creature that has taken home in one of their buildings. Shops, homes, basements, regardless of what it is, a Mimic has decided to hole up there, killing pets and livestock while threatening the life of those who own the building. These creatures are difficult to get rid of because of their ability to blend in with their surroundings and literally become a normal object, like a chair or rug. Go in, root out the mimic and dispose of it the best way you can.