The Riverland Festival (Open)

High City of the Northlands

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Franky
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Searing 15, 121
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It was midday on the 15th, and the Riverland festival was in full swing the first of ten days of festivities, all across the entirety of Zaichaer. Within the Knob, the festivities were largely centered along the expanse of the Copper Cut. The stalls directly lining the road, on both sides, were food and drink predominately, and widely diverse, due to the high non-human population of the Knob. The smell of cooking meats and abundances of spices filled the air, accompanied by the sounds of sizzling skillets and woks. The weather was cool, but the heat from the fires kept the road a bit warmer than normal, floated along by the cooking smoke.

On the south side of the road, behind the food and drink stalls, games of skill and chance, small shows and performances were in abundance. The back row, on the edges of the cliffs, overlooking the residential neighborhoods, were all music stalls, playing so that the entire Knob could hear them perform.

And Franky had closed his tavern for the daytime services, though it would reopen for the evening, for it was Dancing Night. He wished to enjoy the first day of the festival, and was doing so standing before a game stall. The concept was simple. There was a sea of colored pegs on the opposite side of the counter. Five coppers gave Franky five colored rings made of wood. The object was to toss the rings and match the colors. One match gave nothing. Two matches gave your money back. Three matches gave you one of the many small trinkets on the lowest shelf behind the vendor. Four matches gave you one of the medium sized trinkets, mostly stuffed animals on the middle of the shelves. And five matches gave you one of the big prizes on the top shelf, ranging from large animals to musical instruments to fancy drinking flagons.

Franky was on his third hand of throwing, and he'd only managed to get two matches at best so far. The stall was large enough, four to five people could play at the same time. The vendor was a Lysanrin man, who hung many of the colored rings on his horns and greeted everyone with a big smile and hearty laughter. He promised that the game was hard and challenging, but came by honestly. Anytime someone accused him of greasing the pegs, he'd let them pick any of them, and he'd unscrew them, and let them see for themselves.

"Come on, no one has managed to hit all five since I opened, surely one of you can manage it. It's getting embarrassing!"

Franky snorted in a small chuckle, and put down another set of coins to buy another round. "You may not be a cheat, but you're certainly a snake with this game."

The Lysanrin clutched his bare chest, faking a pained look, "You wound me sir!" Then began laughing heartily, which Franky and others around joined in on.

"Step right up! My wife made all of the prizes here and she will be deeply insulted if I come home with a bunch of them! I don't wish to sleep on the couch tonight, so help me out here people!"

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Yeva
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Searing 15, 121

"C'mon, I thought this is what you wanted."

"Work, Asher," the woman spat, "An honest way to make some coin, not whatever it is you’re spouting."

"This is work," he insisted, gold eyes appraising the woman with genuine mischief. Yeva wasn't sure if she could recall seeing a man with such a sly disposition. Unapologetic entirely, "Coin will flood the streets. Consider me that mentor you were going on and on about."

"A mentor!” she scoffed, dipping the soiled paintbrush into a cup of water to rinse. She lowered her voice, but her eyes burned, “Not a pimp!"

“It’s just a kiss!”

She turned, sealing the jars of paint to signify her shift at the face-painting booth wrapping up. Asher, a rather roguish looking figure despite the uniform he wore, rounded the small table, offering his best pleading expression, “Alright, fine! A few kisses, then,” he relented, “It’s not even a guarantee. They have to win first… or pay a premium,” the second half was grumbled more so under his breath but his words have a vibrancy to their promise as he continued the pitch, “The only girls I have a human and they’ll die before a knife ear or a tusk touch ‘em,” he shrugged, thinking, “Or a gob. Ha, could you imagine?”

Yeva stiffened at the slurs, patience running thinner by the second. His grin was repulsive. Traitorous, “Is this supposed to be convincing?” She scrubbed at the glass grey metal easel dunking it in a bucket of water. Yeva made sure to flick water at him when she stood, “We are not friends. Do not presume I am interested in doing you any favors.”

“Sunspot! Why do you do this to me?” Asher sighed dramatically, dropping his head back in exasperation. With all the effort he was putting in, he would have had better chances of getting another to fill his entourage of entertainers. They both knew he vexed her for his own amusement.

“Tell me,” he followed her the redhead even after her relief came and she stepped out from beneath the canopy into the bustling streets of Zaichaer. She was hungry, but more than that, she was interested in learning just how the city of steel had fun, “Do you make every man beg for your attention or just the ones you like?”

Yeva ignored him, stopping at a vendor selling sticks of rock candy. She bought a blue one and made her way up the street, pausing here and there to admire performers and preparations of the street food. Asher was losing and he knew it.

She was more stubborn than he thought.

Yeva took a tentative nibble at her treat, testing the texture of the crystalized sugar, and licked her lips. Further up was a flurry of games with prizes. Without warning, she slipped into the crowd. Unfortunately, her much taller company spotted her hair easily enough “Alright! Final offer,” Asher scurried forward to cut her off, pulling her to the side. A group of people boomed with laughter beyond his shoulder and it was then Yeva spotted a familiar face. Franky?

Asher followed her eyes and brightened, "You like leaving things up to fate, yes?" he grabbed her hand and began pulling her towards the man with horns.

"We'll play!" he shouted, digging into his pocket to produce a coin.

Yeva struggled against his grip "What are you d-"

"What if I get you one of those big prizes?"

Yeva looked at the choices and then at the game. He wanted her to work a few rounds at his kissing booth in exchange for a carnival toy?

The Lysanrin had claimed no one had won one yet... If that were true, the odds were in her favor... If he lost, that would be the end of it and she could go about her business and enjoy the rest of the day.

She remained quiet and then nodded.

"Fine," she relented, taking another bite of her candy. Hadn't she given a whole story to Franky about wanting to step outside her comfort zone? Coming all the way to Zaichaer to do new things and embrace opportunity... Tiny shards cracked beneath her teeth and she picked at the smears of dried paint on her fingers, switching to Mythrasi, "Fate decides."

Asher grinned and paid for his round, "Perfect."

Yeva looked over at Franky, "Small world," she joked, waving towards the row of pegs, "This game is hard to win, right?"

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Franky
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Franky was about to toss another ring, this one red, when he saw a familiar flash of color step up at his side. He peered over, seeing Yeva's wild curls once more. The fates were blessing this throw, sending their mystic to do their bidding. He tossed the red ring and it landed snugly over the red peg.

She was with a man here, one who bore the tirelessly badgering of a younger sort. But superstition had entranced the hobgoblin and he sought another sign from the newly arrived pair. The candy she was eating on was blue, and Franky plucked the blue ring from his set. He didn't even look at the pegs, simply tossed it out. A small cheer from the onlookers told him he had hit the mark.

Green was next, a splash of color from her companion's uniform. Franky turned back, tossing out the ring. It bounced and plodded before barely dipping onto a peg. Three in a row, his best yet. Riding the small cheers, he quickly tossed out the yellow, catching it on its matching peg with a roar sounding out.

Silver ring in hand, he looked back at Yeva, seeing the scar beneath her eye, that he'd noticed and remembered from their first meeting. He found her looking back at him, jesting about the difficulty of the game. He flipped the ring with his thumb as one might a coin, thinking the fates might appreciate him tossing in some extra semblance of luck into the game, but never broke eye contact with her.

And when the cheers broke out, and the vendor groaned, Franky smirked, "Apparently not."

Franky turned his gaze away from Yeva momentarily to look at the prizes now available to him. To thank the fates, and their vessel, he selected a flagon of deep red woods and some crimson glass slats. And when it was handed to him, Franky plucked his hip flask and poured some Hobbish Bourbon into the flagon, which he then offered to Yeva. "Seems you're my lucky charm today. Want some courage before trying your own luck?"

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Yeva
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Searing 15, 121

She had looked to Franky thinking he might have spent his earlier efforts playing and failing a win, but he looked at her and tossed the ring, the flash of silver sinking atop the waiting peg. Her nervous smile sank, stolen by the cold flash of dread in her stomach. Having just walked up to the booth, it appeared he had made little effort to win the game, "Franky," she exhaled sharply, the name sounding strange like 'how' or 'why' but perhaps that was just the flavor of dismay that settled like the aftertaste of rock candy. She pulled her gaze away to frown at the game, following the vendor's movements as he retrieved a pretty flask and passed it to the hobgoblin. If Franky could win, then so could-

"Nice shot, man," Asher looked back, taking his round of rings and watching the innkeeper pour liquid from one container to the other. He lifted the ring to look at Yeva within it and then tilted it so that Franky was within its center. He spoke in perfect Mythrasi next, "I thought you said you were having trouble making any friends."

Without missing a beat, the elf woman took the flask, nodding in a silent appreciation although she wasn't so sure about its contents. It was still a nice gesture, "I'm not playing," she clarified, ignoring the elf behind her. If he could be called such. Asher had had his ears clipped for reasons she didn't agree with and a large contributor as to why she scorned his company, "But my luck and patience are under attack, so-"

A clink followed by a round of cheers made her spine stiffen, red curls lifting as she spun to see Asher's first ring sink around the neck of a peg. He was smirking and prepared to toss the next one. Yeva quieted and took a drink of offering. A match ignited in her throat, staying aflame as it slithered into her stomach and ignited her body like a furnace. The sharp, bitter notes of the alcohol seemed enhanced by the sweet candy she had been enjoying moments before. Yeva watched as the second ring found success and in lieu took another drink. She had left it up to the fates, had she been foolish? Her face twisted as she exhaled a hot breath and held the flask back out to Franky.

If there was any rhyme or reason as to Asher's tactics, it didn't seem apparent. He had a mischievous nature, but when he tossed the rings, there was a focus that was undeniable. Another ring found its place. When there was only one left, he looked down at his curly-haired friend, "Have you picked out which one you want yet?" he teased, eyeing the collection of prizes. He was enjoying this.

"Why would I?" Yeva asked stubbornly, crossing her arms. She hadn't expected Asher to have been so good at the game, but it had been her idea. Sometimes faith was holding steadfast in the face of oncoming defeat. The tides could turn at any time.

"Ooh," he spun the last hoop in his hand, preparing his next throw, "Who's the arrogant one now?"

Yeva watched him pull his arm back, the wisp of clouds in the sky shifting to cast a shadow on the plaza. She glanced up at the sky, "You will lose."

"Whatever you say, Sunspot," the elf tossed the ring and it flew towards the pegs, tilting forward in the air until it clinked and bounced, dipping between the pegs instead. Asher cursed, refusing to believe he could fail, "What! That throw was fucking perfect!"

Yeva smiled, offering a silent prayer of gratitude as the burning in her stomach mellowed to a comforting warmth. She took a bite of her candy, chomping on the sugar crystals rather contentedly. After the bourbon, it was almost too sweet, "I warned him," she said, turning towards Franky, "Thanks for the courage, by the way. I thought you'd be at your inn.... A festival seems as good a day as any for a round of drinking..." she brightened in realization, curious if anyone else was there in his absence. Maybe her card reading had come to fruition! '"Oh! Did you ever end up hiring that partner of yours?"
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Franky
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Franky as the Mystic seemed to cling for life with her grip on the flagon of bourbon. It was becoming quickly obvious that she had some skin riding on this attempt by her companion. He wondered what the bargain might be. He heard the bravado in her voice, the crossing of her arms, that look in her eyes and he hid a grin in a drink from the flagon. Redheads truly were all stubborn, regardless of race.

Franky did love a good stubborn streak, probably because he had one too. Franky watched her look skyward, and he heard the weight of her words. She was communing with the fates. He cast his gaze skyward too, seeing clouds there. Was cloud reading a thing?

Sure enough, the fates made no fool of their mystic and the man lost in an outrage.

Franky smirked at her comments, "Oh I'll be there for the evening, everyone will be looking to continue the part after it slows down here. You and your unlucky friend should stop on by."

Then a laugh, "Yup, sure did. Her name's Millie and she's my best employee. Also my only one. Funny enough, she's a human lass. And while I've not confirmed it yet, I suspect she's from a bit more of an uppercrust lifestyle." He stepped out of the way of the counter so others could participate. "You ever meet Ma'am at her greenhouse?" Franky knew how grouchy the old woman could be, especially to newcomers.

Franky stepped toward her companion, a hand out, "Apologies on my rudeness, my name is Franky." Franky drained his flagon, clipping it onto his belt, and pulled out his smoke box. He plucked out a cigarette for himself, offering the hand rolled sticks of Goblin Weed to the pair. This was followed by a struck match to ignite them, shook out and smoking for a moment, reminding Franky of that smoke danger all those years ago. Then he tossed it to the ground, stamping it.

Franky took a long drag on the pungent, strong goblin weed, puffing out deep purple clouds as the heat filled his lungs, "See any other good games yet? This was my first one and I was here long than I'd care to admit," speaking to them both. Now looking at Yeva directly, "Didn't feel like setting up a card game here?"

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Yeva
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Searing 15, 121

"Ah, yes, actually," Yeva cast a glance at Asher who was trying to argue for a redemption throw, claiming pegs were modified somehow. She exhaled, then smiled up at the hobgoblin, "She's nice, I like her." Yeva had visited the old woman, who she found to be sharp-tongued, bitter, and reserved, but Yeva hadn't asked many personal questions, instead provided most of the conversation and all of her attention on the actual wares. Botony, herbalism, it was all fascinating to the redhead, who could talk about it for hours. That had been enough of a common ground to at least cease some of the insults, "I might've convinced her to let me work there a couple of days a week. I think we'll be friends."

There was this understanding that Ma'am wasn't exactly easy to please or even nice. Knowing that now, it satisfied the young woman. Realizing she didn't know who Millie was and amounting the time that had passed between their meetings, Yeva felt guilty for not having come visit as promised to witness it herself. Was her reading revealing itself?

Franky stepped forward. Asher had materialized by her side, reaching forward in unison. The goblin was polite, "Apologies on my rudeness, my name is Franky."

"Name's Asher," Yeva caught Asher's eye and felt a wave of smugness. His loss had been more satisfying than she had expected and he shot her a look, but fighting her grin was impossible. He snorted and took Franky's hand, putting strength behind the grip. Then, Franky offered a stick of rolled Goblin Weed and Asher's demeanor brightened, nudging Yeva.

She hesitated, smile faltering but there seemed to be a curiosity in her eye. She nodded in polite acceptance, taking one of the sticks, "Thank you." She eyed it, silently debating.

Putting the cigarette between her lips, she leaned forward to let the match ignite the stick, the shadows running from her face. She took a small inhale, the tip of the cigarette brightening, while a look of surprise widened her eyes and suddenly purple smoke was rushing from her nose, and she began to cough vigorously. She shook her head, choked and embarrassed.

Asher's head tilted back and he laughed while Yeva tried to answer the question and regain her breath. After a minute to compose herself, Asher still delighted, she grasped at the words. She passed the cigarette to the conman who took a deep inhale, burning down the stick with ease.

"Well, I had already agreed to the face painting booth, and then... I wasn't sure if anyone would show up... The cards were a bit muddled this morning," she strangled another cough, patting a pouch that hung from her hip. It held a rectangle shape, cards indeed, "I didn't really want to answer questions about cheating husbands or, you know..." What ever else. Sometimes giving a reading could be an emotionally intensive affair, with clients treating her more like a therapist, "This was more appealing today."

"I gotta booth that's pretty fun," Asher chimed in, each syllable emphasized by the smoke spilling from between his teeth, "You should both come by. I'd give you a deal."

"It's a kissing booth," she explained with a shake of her head. Her throat burned. What a mistake, "And not a very good one."

"She's joking."

"It's racist, so they don't want to work."

"So is everything else in this city," Asher added, looking back at Franky, "It's only a little racist. The girls are a little shy. Some of the human ones... just... take a little convincing. They're sweethearts."

Yeva's face began to untwist, "Ugh, you're the worst," she felt light-headed after smoking the cigarette and pulled away when Asher offered it back to her. She was willing to bet those women didn't know the rogue's secret or else they'd be even less enthused. He nodded at the tobacco. If she took another puff, she'd throw up, "No more."

With a smirk, Asher continued his pitch, "Sometimes you have to be the change you want to see in the world," Subtly, he stepped forward, beckoning Franky to walk with them, "It's never too late to broaden a horizon."

His hand fell to her lower back and Yeva swatted it away. She decided to finally answer the goblin's question, "There's a bag toss, further up the street. I think I overheard a family talking about an apple bob and," she turned, trying to peek beyond a group of buskers and took another nibble at the candy. It didn't taste the same now, "There's a dart game over there. Oh, that might be a high striker too," As if on cue, Yeva heard the hammer swing and a weight rise, but the bell stayed silent, "What sounds fun?"
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Franky
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Franky frowned at the idea of the kissing booth. But he kept his opinion to himself, though he certainly allowed his prickly nature to air out around him. A kissing booth involving humans and non-humans? That could only end badly. It was a low hanging fruit for humans to use as an excuse to kill people in the street. He already knew everything he needed to know about this Asher. Young, naïve to the point of danger, reckless and careless. He made sure to make a small show of pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe down his hands after the shake with this idiot.

Franky wanted to follow Yeva's desire to go to any of the other games or stalls. He wanted to have fun, to enjoy it. But this was simply too much to bear, too big of a mistake. He turned to Asher, "Mind showing me to your kissing booth?" Franky pulled out a hefty pouch of coins, and gave just the slightest hint of a smile. This seemed to make the elf's opinion who readily accepted.

It was a short jaunt through the crowd to the Kissing Booth. Franky glanced around it, not seeing much of a crowd or participants. There was one human, a bearded, grumpy looking man that was burning holes as he watched one of the human girls kiss a Lysanrin. Franky strode right past Asher, up to the booth, which had no line at the moment, leaving Asher back with Yeva.

His grizzled appearance caused several of the girls, especially the humans, to shrink back. None here wanted to kiss the old, ugly man. He thumped the bag of coins on the counter there in front of them. "There's three hundred golds there. I want you to split it amongst yourselves and shut this booth down. Take the money, go enjoy yourselves at the fair. And if you're smart, that Asher fellow? You'll cut ties with him. If you look over my shoulder at the bearded man there, you'll understand why." There were a few cautious glances at the fuming human.

Franky crossed his arms, as the girls whispered among themselves. A quick consensus and they took the pouch, and they all left the booth together, shooting glares over at Asher. Franky turned on his heel, taking in a deep breath as he walked over to the glaring human, whose eyes of fury passed over to him, "What you want, frogfucker?"

Franky kept a grim face on, "For you to know that I've shut down that ridiculous booth. It's unnatural and wrong. The man that was running it is a young idiot, chasing coin with bad ideas."

The man raised an eyebrow, "And you would spend your own money on that?"

Franky nodded, "Of course, it's the Zaichaeri way."

The man looked over Franky's shoulder at Asher, scrutinizing his face, as if to really attribute it to memory. "Alright. Good. Humans ain't meant to be mingling with y'all's kind."

Franky, hands in his pockets, "I couldn't agree more."

With a nod, the human man turned and left, and Franky turned back toward Yeva. He stopped in front of Asher, giving his best glare from when he used to command soldiers. "You're an idiot. You put those girls and every person who was dumb enough to participate in that booth in danger. You put the entire neighborhood in danger. You keep making choices like that, the humans here will string you up by your innards while anyone you care about watches."

Franky turned to Yeva, giving her a head nod, and he walked off. He pulled another cigarette out, lighting it up, taking a deep, long drag off it. He was shaking his head as only a disappointed old man can do, and made his way over to a booth that was selling unknown meat on a stick. He held up two fingers and put down some coins, grabbing the skewers and meandering through the rest of the fair.


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Yeva
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The goblin known as Franky shut down whatever operation Asher had been conducting and shamed Asher for it with a veracity that had Yeva shrinking away from the two figures and towards the crowd, suddenly anxious. Asher met the goblin's glare with one of his own, defiance fierce in his eyes after the shock at watching his team bought. He was a hand shorter than the hobgoblin, and she could feel his seething rage, "You don't know fucking shit about this!"

Yeva was not prepared to watch the elf get butchered in the street, even if she found his presence grating, "Asher! Calm down!"

He stumbled back as Yeva tried to tug him away from the hobgoblin, dropping her candy in the process. With both hands free, she leaned her weight into the shove and pushed him back, inch by inch, "I wouldn't have started this without a reason," he defended righteously, shaking off the redhead. Behind him, Franky met her eye and Yeva was filled with shame as he nodded and walked off. Asher continued to seethe, "Fuck" he stopped himself, running his hands through his hair in quick succession. He turned to look at the newly abandoned booth, slamming his fist against the counter.

Franky had begun his way up the street as Yeva felt torn helplessly between the two. She felt she needed to explain or apologize, or both. She knew Asher to be rash, immature, and even vulgar, but he was more clever than he often showed. The loud and indecent demeanor was often a front for something more, but how could she relay that to? His actions today were selfish, even if a tactic for some secret motive, and she stood by the sidelines awkwardly, wanting to help but not knowing how. Asher could see her hovering from the corner of his eye.

"Just go, Yeva," the anger sighed into a frustrated defeat, and he slumped against the wooden display. After tilting his head back to glare at the clouds, he snapped out of his thoughts to begin tearing down his booth.

"Do you need any help?"
she asked, voice small. He didn't say anything, or acknowledge her again, "Asher?"

Knowing how often he liked to pester her for attention, getting ignored entirely somehow felt worse than a slap to the face. None of this was her fault but she still felt responsible, "Okay... I'll see you around." Another moment of silent hesitation, she began to walk away.

Yeva wrung her hands, a stone in her chest. She didn't disagree with Franky, but she felt obligated to Asher in a weird way. She tried to release her anxiety, but struggled to do so. She tried to play a few games unsuccessfully, but her heart wasn't in it. Just when she was about to go home, she saw a familiar green head further up the street. The figure looked around and she caught a glimpse of the man's face.

"Franky!" she shouted, running up the street. She bound up the street, her small size advantageous as she slipped through the crowd of bodies, offering apologies as she dipped and skipped towards the figure. Her red curls seemed to disappear amidst the crowd and then she popped out from behind a couple, breathless, "I'm so sorry," she started, "I didn't know- I... Asher's just..." she wanted to give some sort of reasoning, but he hadn't filled her in, "I'm really sorry."

She could still recall the disappointment that had been in his eyes. Like a father's reprimand. He had spent a chunk of gold cleaning up the mess. She didn't have enough to pay him back, "He was a friend of one of my older brother's growing up. He's always been rather harmless," At least to me, she thought, although she didn't dare add this, "I guess I forget we're grown now... sometimes... I know that's not really an excuse." she glanced around, anxious.

"Thank you for intervening," she added, "I can't stand him half the time, but I don't want to see him killed. I do hope you get to enjoy the rest of the festival."

Yeva gave a half smile and held her breath so not to offer a third apology.
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Franky
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Franky chomped into his meat-on-a-stick vigorously as he scolded himself for being so harsh on the boy. Because that's what Asher was, a boy. But Franky was no different in his youth, earning pennies everywhere he could, not worrying about the greater consequences. That was a task for the old and the wise. But still, he could've handled it better. He probably emboldened the boy, increased his stubbornness, so that the next idea he had, it would be even more reckless.

Because that's what Franky would've done.

He removed his hat and ran his hand over his bald head, missing the feeling of his hair between his fingers. It was still strange to not have that. He just didn't want to see any more young people die. He'd seen far too much of that, he'd caused far too much of that. And this city, these humans, were just always looking for a reason. No need to make it easy for them.

He heard Yeva's voice call for him as he flicked away the empty wooden skewer into the grass. It was amusing seeing her red mop of curls disappear and reappear in the crowd, both able to stand out and hide simultaneously. Once she finally arrived, her face was as red as her hair, and she began to apologize. Was it for herself or on behalf of Asher? Did it matter?

To Franky, it didn't. He still wasn't sure if he'd been right, wrong, or somewhere in between. "It's fine, no harm came from it, and that's what matters. I hope your friend will be alright, I'm sure he invested some coin in that stall of his." He knew that most people in the Knob were at the poverty level. Perhaps an olive branch could be extended. A soft smile at the good friend Yeva was being, both to Asher and Franky himself.

"It was a nice idea, and a well built stall, it's just not the right time or place. We all make mistakes." Some of us more than others. "Maybe when he cools down, you could send him to me at my tavern? I certainly have need of someone willing to set up and run stalls at events. If that's what he's interested in." He hoped the young man might take the offer but suspected he wouldn't. Franky had embarrassed him publicly after all.

He nodded at her once more, "I hope you enjoy the festival as well. Hopefully we can have many more like it here in the Knob. People should be celebrating and enjoying life."

And leave the worrying to us old, retired men.


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Posts: 422
Joined: Fri Jun 05, 2020 6:12 pm
Title: Forge your Legend

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Name: Franky

Knowledge:
► Show Spoiler


Name: Yeva

Knowledge:
  • Caregiving: Attempting to calm one's enraged friend
  • Detection: The burning sensation of Hobbish Bourbon
  • Etiquette: Ignoring racial slurs of a "friend"
  • Etiquette: Remembering topics from last time you met with a friend
  • Fortune Telling: Letting the fates decide through a game of chance
  • Leadership: Maintaining one's stubbornness wholeheartedly
  • Resistance: Hobbish Bourbon
  • Spycraft: Speaking in a lesser used language to disguise one's words


Points: 10
Magic: These points cannot be used for magic.


Injuries: Nothing to report!
Loot: -300 from Franky (as tracked in his ledger already)

Comment: This was a fun read you two! I actually got my first dose of Yeva in this thread, definitely a fun character to read :D Also, great work both of you! Your imagery painted with words in this has been phenomenal

Welp, that's everything I'm sure! If you have any questions, or feel that something actually was missed; please do pm me so we can talk!
word count: 435
Templates, Workshop
"Common" "Synskrit" "Norvaegan" "Vastian"
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