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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Oct 22, 2023 21:55:07 GMT -5
“What d’ya mean ya won’t give me a drink?”
Astrid’s voice comes from the bar with feigned outrage. In the weeks following the events of the whole volcano exploding and a god climbing out, the little half-dwarf has been hard at work with cleanup efforts both at home in Dragon’s Cradle and in the Ash Lands. Regardless of political asks or affiliations (something the young noble woman now has to think about apparently), she only wants to help the people who were displaced. As such, the least she could use is some rest and a good drink.
“Sorry kid, ale’s for the grown ups,” the bartender says with a disaffected expression. His hand moves round a glass to clean it. “I can put some apple juice in a mug so you can pretend, but that’s the best you’re gonna get.”
With great exaggeration, Astrid scoffas at the suggestion. “How d’ya know I ain’t just a bit short an’ young in the face, huh? Maybe I’m a half-elf, just lookin’ a bit young fer me adult years.”
The bartender eyes her up and down then returns to glass cleaning. “The way you present yourself. Take the apple juice or bugger off.”
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Post by Flint Caldwell on Oct 25, 2023 18:23:39 GMT -5
"Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!" The small crowd surrounding Flint's table erupted into loud cheers. With his head craned back and tankard held high to his lips, Flint downed the last remnants of ale before slamming the empty vessel onto the table with a resounding thud.
"Done, now pay up," Flint demanded, his hand extended across the table towards his drinking opponent, who wordlessly dropped a small bag of solars onto the table. With a swift motion, Flint swiped the bag, while his opponent fell out of his chair and passed out on the floor.
Standing up, albeit with a slight stumble, Flint raised the bag triumphantly. "He should've known better than to challenge me on my home turf, and now, to the victor go the spoils!" His slightly intoxicated cheer resonated through the saloon as he made his way back to the bar.
Ever since his battle with the god of rebirth atop a volcano, Flint had been on a quest to find that same adrenaline rush. The moments that came close were rare, like helping with Javal's cleanup efforts and the subsequent spar or the tavern brawl with Kamille and Everett. On most days, however, life offered nothing more exciting than a victory in a drinking contest, and today was one of those mundane days.
Seated back at the bar, Flint tossed the bag of coins to the bartender and quipped, "Just give me your highest quality ale. I'm celebratin' another victory." He pointed both thumbs at himself, wearing a mischievous grin.
"Coming right up," the bartender replied, catching the bag of coins. He filled a tankard to the brim with a smooth, golden ale. "You know, Flint, you're gonna end up killing yourself with that drinking habit," he playfully chided as he slid the tankard over to Flint.
"Good thing I don't plan on dyin' anytime soon," Flint retorted with a wink. However, his attention was suddenly drawn to a dejected figure nearby, prompting him to do something unusual for someone who usually minded his own business. Something about this person felt oddly familiar, and Flint strained to recall where he might have seen them before as he took a seat beside them. "Howdy, don't I know you from somewhere? I can't shake the feelin' that we've met or at least crossed paths before."
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The Tinkertons
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Oct 25, 2023 23:33:40 GMT -5
Finally, Astrid relents to simply playing pretend with apple juice in a mug, but it doesn’t stop her from leaning forward on the counter with her face pressed against the wood like the petulant child she can be. After a while, she sits up and sips on the drink, her attention having been caught by the drinking contest going on in the corner. While she has no reason to think so, she thinks she could totally stand a chance against these people in that contest. What else would dwarven blood be good for!?
She stifles a giggle in her mug as Flint stumbles over, gets himself another drink, then calls out to her and plops down right beside her. “Heya,” Astrid says chipperly. She gives him a once over herself, thinking back. “Ya look like the fella Kamille caught up durin’ the fight with Vulcadreas. Don’t s’pose ya were fightin’ a big lava dragon god, were ya? If so, I were the streak a’ lightnin’ zippin’ up ta his head. Did a big ice beam ta help cut it off.”
Setting her mug down, Astrid offers her hand to Flint. For once it’s not wearing a gauntlet. In fact, she’s not got any armor on, opting to have it neatly stored away in a pocket space. “Nice ta meet ya. I’m Astrid Stormstone.”
“Stormstone?” the bartender scoffs quietly as if he weren't eavesdropping. “That’s a dwarven name if I ever heard one. You’re not a half-elf that’s for sure.”
Astrid sideyes him as if to tell him to mind his own business.
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Post by Flint Caldwell on Oct 30, 2023 22:59:25 GMT -5
"Yep, that would be me," Flint chuckled, reminiscing about the battle. "Spent most of the battle on the back of that drake. Seeing that I don't have any protection against fire, I definitely still owe her a debt after that," he quipped, taking a sip of his ale and wiping some foam from his upper lip.
"Well, I wouldn't call what I was doing 'fightin'. I was just trying to survive more than anything else and, of course, help out the big hitters where I could," he said, laughing at his own expense, and clapping one of his calloused hands against Astrid's shoulder.
Suddenly, Flint seemed to shoot straight up as he recognized Astrid. "Oh right, you're that kid who was with some guy, Ulring I think was his name, and that golden knight guy. Though all that lightning was your doing? Gods, here I thought Javal was making me feel like I was falling behind, here you are lopping off the heads of gods, and you look half my age."
Setting his own mug down on the bar, Flint firmly shook Astrid's hand, his hand almost fully engulfing hers. "Well, I'd say it's an honor to finally put a name to a face, and the name's Flint Caldwell; The Blazin' Heart of the Desert. Well, I only really call myself that, but it'll catch on," he chuckled with the same gusto as before.
Flint side-eyed the bartender, who had also caught Astrid's attention. After both had their share of skepticism, the bartender returned to cleaning the glass in front of him with a huff.
Returning to the conversation, Flint leaned against the bar, intrigued. "What are you even doing in a place like this, Astrid? Are you looking for some of the water of life? Well, if you are, you probably deserve this more than me anyways. I was just celebrating a victory over a drunkard," he said, sliding the wooden tankard in front of Astrid as a gesture of goodwill.
Before Astrid could have a drink, the bartender swooped in and intercepted the drink. "Flint, you know I have one rule and only one rule, right?" he said, tapping a sign behind him that said 'no alcohol to kids.'
Flint grimaced and tried to convince the bartender, "Oh, come on, Donny buddy, do you have any idea who this is? I watched her cut off the head of a dragon made of plasma. That at least deserves some ale, right?"
However, with a decent amount of alcohol already in his system, Flint missed the mark a little. "I don't care what she's done. Them's the rules, and you're already on thin ice, Flint, with all the fights you've started in here. Don't make me call the guard to get that bounty on your head."
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Nov 4, 2023 23:23:22 GMT -5
“Glad ta see yer doin’ alright after alla that,” Astrid says with a good natured smile. “I’d say don’t worry about gran, but if she feels like ya owe her somethin’, she’ll come lookin’ fer it. Probably secrets or… I dunno, juicy gossip.” The girl giggles a little and takes a sip of her apple juice, trying to appear cool and nonchalant and also mimic Flint as best she can, which does not get past the bartender’s keen eyes whatsoever. She pretends not to notice him noticing her.
“Oh, aye! Ulrich! An’ Leandros was the big knight! Ulrich’s a real powerful sky mage. Taught me the first spell I ever learned!” Astrid explains with obvious excitement in her face. “So yeah, I s’pose a lot a’ the lightnin’ on the battlefield was our doin’.” Looking Flint up and down she decides, “Erm, aye, I’m twelve, so dependin’ on how old ya are, that’s probably right, I’d say.”
With great gusto, she shakes his hand, though admittedly it’s odd to shake someone’s hand without a gauntlet to help hers match theirs in size. It’s also kind of weird to walk around without armor on. She almost feels too light, naked in a sense, with how used to wearing it she is. If she didn’t have a pendant to store it and couldn’t don it immediately, Astrid would absolutely be wearing her armor.
“Blazin’ heart a’ the Desert?” Astrid echoes, then a bigger grin spreads across her face. “I like it! Gotta nice ring ta it, ya know? It’ll catch on, I’m sure!”
Releasing his hand, Astrid sits on her stool with her hands on her knees, happy to be a part of a conversation with someone who isn’t avoiding the kid who definitely shouldn’t be here. “Sometimes I like ta try me luck with gettin’ me hands on some ale,” she says. “Ain’t all that strong, though I tend ta have better luck when the bartender’s a dwarf.” Her right hand clenches into a fist and playfully beats on her chest, a deep resounding thud. “Just a bit a’ me heritage.”
Astrid’s eyes light up seeing the tankard make its way over to her only for her expression to fall flat again when the bartender, Donny, won’t budge on his rules. “Folks ain’t got a problem lettin’ a kid fight a god, but they won’t give ‘em a sip a’ ale ta feel closer ta their ancestors!” she jokes then looks at Donny. “Whatever the bounty is, don’t s’pose if ya had that in yer pocket, ya’d look the other way, huh?”
Donny eyes Astrid with contempt. “I’ll call the guards on both of you, miss,” he says snidely.
Astrid looks at Flint. “I don’t think we’re all that welcome here, huh? Maybe we oughta find somewhere else.”
“Ain’t another tavern for miles,” Donny says, rolling his eyes, but Astrid turns to him with a devious glint in hers.
“Don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
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Post by Flint Caldwell on Nov 15, 2023 17:19:01 GMT -5
Flint’s jovial expression quickly shifts once he hears Donny threaten to call the guards on Astrid. He could always brush it off if someone threatened him; it’s happened to him more times than he could count. But threatening children? That was far past the line for him, even if it was targeted at someone as powerful as Astrid. The Cowboy crossed his arms and scowled in his direction, and he knew that Donny could feel his gaze on him as he suddenly went ghost-white and was sweating bullets. The air around the cowboy seemed to heat up as a faint orange glow shined from his chest.
Flint clenched his hand into a fist but sighed as he stood up “Yer lucky the kid’s here, or I’d have beat you to hell and back. Though you and I are gonna have a nice long chat when I see you next.” Flint patted Astrid’s back “I guess yer right. Come on, let’s hit the road.”
As the two started to walk out of the tavern, Flint Shot one more firey glare at Donny. causing the man to shoot straight up in fear, which in turn got a nice chuckle out of Flint. Flint took a deep breath, holding his arms out and letting the sun’s heat dance across him; ever since he tanked Vulcandreus’ explosion, the heat of the desert seemed more enjoyable than before. It was a feeling akin to a lizard on a nice hot rock,
Flint’s moment of serenity would be interrupted by a shit-eating grin as an idea planted itself into his brain, “I’ll be right back” He stated as he stepped back into the bar, flicking his hand out as a spear of purple light stretched out from it. “Hey Donny, heads up!” He joked as he hucked the spear. Donny barely had time to react as it thunked into the hood, leaving a small cut on the man’s cheek.
“Tsk, I missed”, He joked once more before stepping back out side. He completely meant to miss him, but Donny didn’t need to know that at the moment. Flint could only smirk, imagining the look on his face as he met back up with Astrid. Then a look of confusion overtakes his face “So … what now, Short-stack? I hate to say but Donny was right, there ain’t a tavern or bar for at least a couple miles.” He stated as he eyed the horizon checking to see if he could be proven wrong, though to his dismay there was no such sight.
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The Tinkertons
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Nov 24, 2023 12:54:59 GMT -5
When Donny threatens to call the guards, Astrid isn’t exactly put off by the threat. How many times has she had to deal with or outrun guards in her short time? Plenty, and she knows they’re hardly a threat to her… At least, typical city guards aren’t. Still, she knows better than to give them too hard a time since it’ll get her in more trouble, especially being that she’s a noble now and “represents Dragon’s Cradle now,” as Count Thadda’s words constantly remind her.
Bah. She didn’t ask for that responsibility.
Still, Flint’s behavior shifts and manages to shut Donny up. The two must have a history, she figures as she follows Flint outside. The desert heat is uninviting for Astrid. While it wraps itself around Flint like a warm hug, it’s just gross and oppressing to her. Extreme cold and extreme heat are both not things that she likes, especially after having done a lot of adventuring with Blue Raspberry who can’t exist in either condition comfortably.
Confusion crosses her face when Flint steps back inside, and she sees a burst of purple light under the door before a muffled thunk. He seems pleased with himself when he reemerges, and she gives him a quizzical expression. Then he looks confused too, and she looks even more confused. “Are… ya alright?” she asks.
While she waits for an answer, she digs into her bag and pulls out a potion bottle with a lavender liquid sloshing around inside. With a bit of focus on her face, there’s a flash of magic around the potion bottle. To the untrained eye, it looks exactly the same, but Astrid knows that this potion now has a second use. She holds it up to Flint. “Well, I know a place with a bunch a’ dwarves that’ll be a bit more lax. If yer interested in sharin’ a drink, this potion will take ya anywhere on the map, an’ I’m thinkin’ we head ta the Pale City.”
Transmuter - Alchemical mastery [1/3 uses per topic] Elsewhere Juice
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Post by Flint Caldwell on Nov 28, 2023 16:57:47 GMT -5
Flint observed with a raised eyebrow as Astrid worked her magic on the filled vial. Uncertain about the specifics of the enchantment, the cowboy couldn't discern any visible change in the liquid housed within, at least to his untrained eye. Nevertheless, he accepted the potion the moment she presented it, swirling the lavender concoction in its glass vial as she detailed its purpose.
"Pale City, huh? Heard they've got drinks strong enough to make the heaviest drinkers go blind, and I've been meaning to challenge myself," Flint jested with a mischievous grin. Snatching the vial quickly, he popped the cork, raising the glass high in a toast. "May the booze flow endless, and here's to hopin' my liver survives this trip… Bottoms up." In one swift motion, he brought the rim of the vial to his lips, downing the potion like a regular shot of whiskey.
To his surprise, a faint taste of lavender mingled with frosty mint graced Flint's tongue before he swallowed the rest. Tossing the empty vial to Astrid, he saluted her with a light-hearted grin. "See you on the oth—"
Before he could finish his sentence, Flint was abruptly shunted out of reality for a split second, reappearing face-first on the snowy cobblestone streets of Pale City. After a moment of trying to recover from the disorienting teleportation that left his stomach churning, he pushed himself up from the snow, finding himself in a random alley. Quickly brushing the snow off his hat and pants, he realized he was far too underdressed for the frigid wind cutting through him. Determined to beat the cold, he knew he needed more drinks.
Heading toward the bustling street, shivering all the way to the alley exit, Flint wondered where Astrid had ended up. Assuming she had already consumed the potion, he cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted into the crowd, "Astrid! You alive?!"
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 2, 2023 21:56:40 GMT -5
For a moment, Astrid wonders if Flint didn’t hear her or if he simply chose to ignore her. There’s something odd with this cowboy character, but she has no idea what it could be. Hopefully, he’s not gone deaf from all his drinking. Does drinking make people go deaf? She pauses for a moment while she considers. Well, it certainly can make people go to sleep. Wait, go blind? A quizzical look crosses her face when Flint mentions that. That sounds awful! Maybe she’s reconsidering…
“Erm, yeah, I s’pose I have always heard that dwarves make the strongest stuff!” she says, shaking any hesitation from her voice. She’s a half-dwarf, dammit, if anyone can take it, she can! Also popping the cork of her potion bottle, Astrid toasts Flint and chugs her own potion. The weird thing about this potion, she’s found, is that it always tastes slightly different based on which place she’s going to. Smacking her lips contemplatively, she barely catches the empty bottle before she and Flint both disappear from reality briefly.
“Ope,” she squeaks, popping back into reality with a burst of purple spacetime magic. The cold wind of the Pale City hits her first. Snow covers her boots nearly instantly. It is, to put it lightly, very cold. Right, why didn’t she remember that?? Pulling her cloak tight around her, Astrid looks around for Flint. They’re in the part of the city that sits on the surface of the world, which is luckily split between the surface world and the underground, where the dark elves and dwarves prefer to reside. It’s warmer down there too – at least, it’s out of the wind anyway.
It isn’t long before she hears Flint calling her name, and without warning, she appears beside him, having teleported the short distance to get into the alley and out of the wind.[1] “Hi!” she says, teeth chattering. “I’m alright! Let’s get goin’ quick! There’s a fancy tavern that goes ta the underground part a’ the city! Winter’s Howl or somethin’!” Gathering herself up, she starts running down the streets.
1. Blink Cape - blink
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Post by Flint Caldwell on Dec 10, 2023 17:02:38 GMT -5
Flint sniffled as he waited for a response from Astrid. He had been in the mountains of Dragon's Cradle several times during his wanderings, but Frost Gale was a whole other beast as the wind felt like knives against his bare arms and face. The blazing heart of the desert was, in fact, very cold, but he could tough it out; he was a big, strong man, after all. Another gust of wind blowing through him made him doubt his constitution as his teeth clacked against each other.
Suddenly, with a poof of space magic, Astrid appeared right next to him, and he attempted a smirk, noticing she was shivering almost as badly as he was. "Well, howdy," he replied, teeth chattering as well. "We didn't think one through? Did we? Yep, let's hop to it and find a spot out of the wind, and the Winter's howl or whatever it called sounds mighty fine," He shakily said, trying to appear as tough as possible, but his body betrayed every ounce of bravo he put into his words. Then, just as fast as she appeared, Astrid sprinted down the cobble path, and holding onto his hat, Flint was soon right behind her.
The cold made the short run feel like ages. At some point, Flint had absentmindedly lit his hands up with his purple flames, but he can't precisely remember when as he was busy keeping his good eye peeled for the tavern. Thankfully, most of the wooden signs were in common, and a wide grin stretched across his frost-covered face as he spotted their savior. A wind-beaten wooden sign read Winter's howl, and Flint looked down at Astird with a shit-eating grin, "Race you there, Short-stack." Then, like a bullet, he took off into a dead sprint, the flames from his hands leaving purple trails behind him. Able to get the head start, he hoped he would've beaten her teleport, and without slowing down, he dropped his shoulder and plowed through the door of the bar.
Finally, out of the wind, he took a relieved sigh and surveyed the room. All eyes were on the tall cowboy, not dressed for the weather in the slightest, and his hands were currently flaming. With a raised eyebrow, he asked, "What're y'all lookin' at?" not fully grasping how out of place he looked
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Dec 13, 2023 18:02:51 GMT -5
Race? This man wants to race her? A grin spreads across Astrid’s face as the cowboy takes off running with a trail of flames following his movements. How does she want to catch up? A series of bullet dashes? A bolt of lightning? What could be the funniest way to beat him to the tavern? Does he even know where it is? That alone could be a big boon.
See, Astrid quite likes being fast. While she thinks it keeps her out of trouble, really it gets her into trouble. She glances around then suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes her out of nowhere, and she disappears from where she stood. Wreathed in lightning, Astrid rockets through the air – the very same method she used to fire herself at Vulcadreaus’ head.[1] She lets the lightning consume her form and aims herself at the roof of the Winter’s Howl.[2] When she strikes, she phases through the solid shingles, pushing down through the rafters and through the top floor until she stops at the surface-level tavern seating and zips into a booth where she props her legs up on the seat beside her.
The lightning fades from her body, and she looks extremely pleased with herself despite the shock from the patrons – some of whom started to take cover. But there’s no danger, just a kid with a shit-eating grin looking as relaxed as can be.
In not much more time, Flint barges through the door, letting in a swath of icy air and drawing the attention away from Astrid if only for a moment. “What took ya so long, Flint?” she asks casually.
1. Astrid’s Valkyrie Strike 2. Full elemental manifestation - phase through objects
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Post by Flint Caldwell on Jan 3, 2024 16:24:45 GMT -5
Spotting Astrid in one of the booths, Flint turned quickly at her call, glancing over his shoulder towards the cold exterior before refocusing. "Well, I'll be," he replied with a small chuckle, making his way over to Astrid's booth. The patrons' stunned silence hung heavily in the air, disrupted only by the metallic clinks of Flint's spurs as he mosied over. Despite not having ridden a horse in over a decade, Flint relished in the theatricality his spurs brought to the entrance.
Seating himself across from Astrid, he brushed off remnants of snow from his hat, meeting her with a smirk. "I honestly should've seen that comin' from a mile away. I was at Mt. Drakolt too when you were zippin' around like a bolt of lightnin'," he joked, settling into his seat. All eyes in the bar remained fixed on the odd pair of adventurers as a brave barmaid approached with a notepad and pen.
The lingering silence prompted the barmaid to glance between Flint and Astrid with a hint of annoyance. With a sigh, she smacked the back of Flint's head with her notepad. "Are ya gonna make me stand here all day or are ya gonna order anythin', you scruffy lout?" Flint blinked, momentarily speechless as he rubbed the spot where he'd been smacked. His smirk returned as he admired the directness. "Well, we'll take two of the strongest drinks you got," Flint stated with a wink.
The barmaid burst into a loud laugh before composing herself with a sigh. "Ya ain't from around here, ain't ya? Not just anyone can stomach the flash freeze, and to be honest, ya don't look the type, and neither does yer friend there," she remarked, motioning towards Astrid with her pen. Flint's smirk widened into a grin at the sound of a challenge. "Try us," he joked, a glint of determination in his eyes.
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Post by Lady Astrid Stormstone on Jan 7, 2024 22:15:27 GMT -5
“Probably,” she says. Astrid meets Flint’s smile with a grin of her owns before sitting upright in the seat again as he takes his own. Her eyes cut to the rest of the patrons in the bar, and she waves her arm at them. “Alright, I’m done makin’ a show a’ stuff! Go back ta yer drinks, ya lugs!” With a chorus of murmurs, most prying eyes turn away again, and she giggles as the barmaid approaches them. The woman could be more impressed with them, but she’s probably dealt with enough nonsense already today given how the sunlight has waned.
And, as expected, the woman laughs in their faces. How could they, a scrawny kid and a human handle the type of drink that drops dwarven patrons like flies if they’re not prepared enough for it. Still, she likes to see overconfident adventurer types eat their own hubris, so the woman smiles. “Fine. But this one’s just a kid, so you need to convince me the little bug zapper won’t be a problem throwing magic around when things go exactly the way I think they will.”
Astrid puts her fist firmly on the table, little sparks lighting from her gauntlets[1], and she meets the barmaid’s eyes with her own determination. “I can stomach anythin’,” she says confidently. “Dwarven blood served me good when I was on me own. Ain’t never gotten sick from anythin’ I ever ate on the streets.” Hopefully, that will be enough to convince her.
1. Spitfire Gauntlets
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