Free Speech Is The Tits

It’s the Wild West of CR4 RP! Feel free to send an ask or @ me :)

[murray-magnesium]

Heya folks! I’m the bursar of the Pentevral, here to help ya figure out your shit! Feel free to send me an ask at any time! I love when wizards don’t sleep!

I’ve been told my name is too hard to spell, so I substituted it with an element instead. If you’re failing alchemy, I highly recommend memorizing the whole dang table. Or putting your tits in the table. We do what we must for knowledge over here.

A few good things to ask me about if you haven’t the foggiest:

- Course Recommendations

- Divination

- Tax Evasion

DNI: cops, billionaires, anti-intellectuals. I said what I said. Get that snake out of your pants. (OOC Main blog @cobaltsoulsearcher)

[fateboundknight]

Finally catching up with Cr4 and I am so in love with these guys.

[last-knight-davinos]

Murray stumbles into the bar Julien had chosen — not because she was already inebriated, but because the minor tilt of a wooden plank may not be much to human sized people, but to a dwarf that had already used up her portents…well, let’s just say she really needed a drink. Her eyes glanced up from her signature hat, looking for the soldier who had invited her.

Julien sat relaxed on a stool at the bar, chatting up the bartender. He glanced back as the door opened and snorted. “Had a little already, madam bursar?”

He waved her over and pushed the stool next to him out with his boot, which had a built in step for her to use to climb up.

“You want shots, or something slower?”

[murray-magnesium]

“A little drink, a lot of bullshit, what’s the difference, really?” Murray climbed up with ease and tipped her hat to him. “I appreciate the thought, but if you didn’t want me to kiss your lordly hand you didn’t have to go to such lengths.” She gave him a shit eating grin. Murray might disagree with Julien on a great many things, but that didn’t make his banter any less fun or his company any less, inevitably and often unfortunately, exciting.

“You got anything from the Sunset Mountains? If not, any brandy is fine. We’ll take the bottle, and a pair of shot glasses.” She flicked her fingers, and little sparks fell from her nails and singed the table. “Fresh out of fire, so I better get myself some more. Got a game in mind?”

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien snorted at the implication, tossing his hair back as he settled back into his seat. “We can do a Sunset brandy, sure.” He gestured to the bartender, offering up enough coin for a bottle. A few moments later, two shot glasses and a bottle were placed between them at the bar. Julien murmured to her, “Victor isn’t working tonight, so if you want food, we’ll actually have to order it.”

At the mention of a game, his shoulders loosened. This was absolutely his arena. “Well that depends: do you want something more skill based? Or something that helps us learn more about each other?” There were also of course, random luck games, but he wasn’t drunk enough to play a game of chance against a divination wizard, portents or not.

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that depends on the skill. Its no fun if we aren't close to evenly matched. So learning it is." She tipped the server and removed her hat, placing one hand to the side of it around the glass and pouring with the other hand. She slid it to Julien with her pinky and ring finger and filled the other. "You'd think I get enough in my day job, but no. At least things will be guaranteed to be interesting with drinking involved."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien took the shot glass, tapping a finger on it idly. “Could do a simple trade, share some secrets…or we could play two truths and a lie. Drink if you win.” He shrugged, gesturing to her with a tilt of his head. “Fancy yourself a good liar, Mag’Nesson?”

A game was always good, it would slow him down, but still had the promise of revelry. He had full lease to get drunk off his ass tonight, and enough time to deal with the inevitable hangover in the morning, but he still wanted the night to last long enough to enjoy it, and that meant a little bit of patience.

[murray-magnesium]

"Oh, I can weave whole cloth from shit better than a dung beetle."

She tilted her glass and let it settle. "Okay. How about this? One, I use huckleberry lotion on my tits. Two, I'm fond of donkey steaks. And three--I used to work for the Cormoray."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien studied her as she spoke, searching for any particular inflection, any fidgeting, but found nothing. He didn’t know her well enough to catch a practiced liar on easy tells like that, so he studied her words instead.

“The first one.” He decided after a moment. “Too specific. No one’s using lotion just on their tits, you’d use it on all of you.”

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that's good logic, but nah, that's a specific lotion for skin folds. Besides, I find most men liable to think anything to do with these girlies must be false, he he he." She gave him a wild grin. "Anyway, its your drink. I'm actually not that fond of ass steaks, just the sort of company that thinks that's what I meant when I mentioned a proclivity for eating ass."

She readied the bottle to refill him. "Anyways, your turn."

[last-knight-davinos]

“Fair play.” He nodded, a slight smile at being bested, and downed his drink, a familiar burn grounding him in his seat. He set the glass down for her to pour into as he spoke. “All that business at the Penteveral, it makes sense you’d be a good liar. Let’s see…”

“Okay. I’ve never had milk. I have a tattoo on my ass. And I once spent hours in a well.” He grinned at gestured for her turn to guess.

[murray-magnesium]

"Never had a milk? In a household vassaled to the human lords of the Fae? A lie as sure as the weekend." She paused. "Though I suppose that could be so obvious it's what I'm supposed to guess and your own mother never fed you from her breast...would explain some things."

She broke the strength of the insult with a gem-toothed grin. "Hours in a well, I don't doubt. Though I wonder if THE Julien Davinos had an ass tattoo it would be common brothel knowledge. Alas, that I do not know..."

She rubbed a finger across the braided portion of her beard. "Alright, the rooster screams dawn out of the house for a reason. First guess, best guess."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien raised a brow at her insult, like he was challenging her to take it further. It seemed good natured enough though, and he liked a bit of ribbing between companions. He watched her sort through it all, giving a nonchalant shrug as she talked through her thoughts.

Slowly, a grin spread across his face. “Your drink.” He took the bottle, ready to refill her as she’d done for him. “My sister was the one who got stuck in a well, not me. Alba. She could fit in the bucket, so I would bring her up and down it while we played—until one day the rope snapped.”

[murray-magnesium]

"If I were her, I'd have thought you were pranking me," Murray mutters, before tipping her head back and taking to shot in two swallows.

She refilled her glass, tapping on her teeth as she thought. "Alright. One, my cousin raises dwarven griffins. Two, I pulled out one of my original teeth myself for the heck of it. And three, my sister has even bigger tits than I do. It’s why I’m glad she doesn’t live here.”

[curatorbolaire]

If, theoretically, one needed to be seen with friends to, err, prove that one is not a terminally lonely academic, would you be interested in coming to brunch? - Murray

Yes, I suppose I would like to go to brunch with you. After all, what are friends for, if not to get into life-threatening scrapes and then brunch with?

[murray-magnesium]

Excellent. It’s a joint brunch held by the schools of Enchantment, Divination, and Conjuration. There will be recreational and experimental potions, if either interests you. Stop by my apartment before hand and I’ll have an enchanted amulet for you. After you made us those beautiful masks, I want to return the favor.

[last-knight-davinos]

Murray stumbles into the bar Julien had chosen — not because she was already inebriated, but because the minor tilt of a wooden plank may not be much to human sized people, but to a dwarf that had already used up her portents…well, let’s just say she really needed a drink. Her eyes glanced up from her signature hat, looking for the soldier who had invited her.

Julien sat relaxed on a stool at the bar, chatting up the bartender. He glanced back as the door opened and snorted. “Had a little already, madam bursar?”

He waved her over and pushed the stool next to him out with his boot, which had a built in step for her to use to climb up.

“You want shots, or something slower?”

[murray-magnesium]

“A little drink, a lot of bullshit, what’s the difference, really?” Murray climbed up with ease and tipped her hat to him. “I appreciate the thought, but if you didn’t want me to kiss your lordly hand you didn’t have to go to such lengths.” She gave him a shit eating grin. Murray might disagree with Julien on a great many things, but that didn’t make his banter any less fun or his company any less, inevitably and often unfortunately, exciting.

“You got anything from the Sunset Mountains? If not, any brandy is fine. We’ll take the bottle, and a pair of shot glasses.” She flicked her fingers, and little sparks fell from her nails and singed the table. “Fresh out of fire, so I better get myself some more. Got a game in mind?”

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien snorted at the implication, tossing his hair back as he settled back into his seat. “We can do a Sunset brandy, sure.” He gestured to the bartender, offering up enough coin for a bottle. A few moments later, two shot glasses and a bottle were placed between them at the bar. Julien murmured to her, “Victor isn’t working tonight, so if you want food, we’ll actually have to order it.”

At the mention of a game, his shoulders loosened. This was absolutely his arena. “Well that depends: do you want something more skill based? Or something that helps us learn more about each other?” There were also of course, random luck games, but he wasn’t drunk enough to play a game of chance against a divination wizard, portents or not.

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that depends on the skill. Its no fun if we aren't close to evenly matched. So learning it is." She tipped the server and removed her hat, placing one hand to the side of it around the glass and pouring with the other hand. She slid it to Julien with her pinky and ring finger and filled the other. "You'd think I get enough in my day job, but no. At least things will be guaranteed to be interesting with drinking involved."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien took the shot glass, tapping a finger on it idly. “Could do a simple trade, share some secrets…or we could play two truths and a lie. Drink if you win.” He shrugged, gesturing to her with a tilt of his head. “Fancy yourself a good liar, Mag’Nesson?”

A game was always good, it would slow him down, but still had the promise of revelry. He had full lease to get drunk off his ass tonight, and enough time to deal with the inevitable hangover in the morning, but he still wanted the night to last long enough to enjoy it, and that meant a little bit of patience.

[murray-magnesium]

"Oh, I can weave whole cloth from shit better than a dung beetle."

She tilted her glass and let it settle. "Okay. How about this? One, I use huckleberry lotion on my tits. Two, I'm fond of donkey steaks. And three--I used to work for the Cormoray."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien studied her as she spoke, searching for any particular inflection, any fidgeting, but found nothing. He didn’t know her well enough to catch a practiced liar on easy tells like that, so he studied her words instead.

“The first one.” He decided after a moment. “Too specific. No one’s using lotion just on their tits, you’d use it on all of you.”

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that's good logic, but nah, that's a specific lotion for skin folds. Besides, I find most men liable to think anything to do with these girlies must be false, he he he." She gave him a wild grin. "Anyway, its your drink. I'm actually not that fond of ass steaks, just the sort of company that thinks that's what I meant when I mentioned a proclivity for eating ass."

She readied the bottle to refill him. "Anyways, your turn."

[last-knight-davinos]

“Fair play.” He nodded, a slight smile at being bested, and downed his drink, a familiar burn grounding him in his seat. He set the glass down for her to pour into as he spoke. “All that business at the Penteveral, it makes sense you’d be a good liar. Let’s see…”

“Okay. I’ve never had milk. I have a tattoo on my ass. And I once spent hours in a well.” He grinned at gestured for her turn to guess.

[murray-magnesium]

"Never had a milk? In a household vassaled to the human lords of the Fae? A lie as sure as the weekend." She paused. "Though I suppose that could be so obvious it's what I'm supposed to guess and your own mother never fed you from her breast...would explain some things."

She broke the strength of the insult with a gem-toothed grin. "Hours in a well, I don't doubt. Though I wonder if THE Julien Davinos had an ass tattoo it would be common brothel knowledge. Alas, that I do not know..."

She rubbed a finger across the braided portion of her beard. "Alright, the rooster screams dawn out of the house for a reason. First guess, best guess."

[thetachonisboy]

Hey, kid. Figure youre owed a spot of luck. Anything youd like to borrow a nat 19 for? - Murray

Oh!! Uh, I mean, probably. There’s so much that has been going on, and a lot of research and everything— which, I think you might find some of it interesting— so I could possibly use it for that. Or I could use it to try and convince Pincushion to be nice to this poor guy who’s trying to help us out on the road….

[murray-magnesium]

Let me see your notes and maybe we won’t even need a portent to help a Eureka along… What are you studying now, boy? You gonna finally write your thesis on it?

[murray-magnesium]

Azune keeps his pace relaxed as he makes his way through the Penteveral, the tension in his shoulders easing as he follows the familiar path to Murray's office.

He would admit it- he rushed ever-so-slightly on his patrol today. Not enough to endanger anyone, no, but the streets were calm... and he very much wanted that ice cream.

The Marshal cradles a small container of warm caramel drizzle by his side as he raises a hand to knock at the dwarven woman's door, an even one two three that she's probably used to hearing by now.

"It's me." Despite the call and the fact that Murray knew he was coming, he waits patiently for permission before continuing further.

"What a pleasant surprise, bless your heart."

It's said purely as a tease, and is accompanied by the sound of several chains pulled aside and a pull-rope to make the upper lock easier to reach. There were small folk quarters at the Pentevral now, but not when she'd first come in.

After a second, the door gravitates outward.

"Come in, kid," she told him. Her hat was off, and the make up she'd put on for a meeting with Kora was smudged, like she'd been rubbing at her eyes. "Come right in."

[sergeant-sad-eyes]

Ah. Now he understood. This was an emotional support shared ice cream time.

He steps into the room and carefully closes the door behind him, taking stock of Murray in a single glance. His brows twitch downwards at the exhaustion on her face and his train of thought derails, mentally going through things he knows she enjoys. None of them seem to be feasible to get at the moment, but he'll keep it running in the back of his mind.

"I brought caramel to use as a topping, and-" A pause as he tucks a hand inside his breastplate, fidgeting for a moment, "-a bottle of..."

He pulls it out, squinting at the label. "I don't know, actually. I was in a hurry so I just said 'Something better than Yahrgraz' to a market vendor. They assured me it wasn't too strong, so it should be acceptable to have a small amount if you need it."

Azune's shoulders relax slowly as he settles into the space, the familiarity of it comforting. It was so Murray that he couldn't help but feel at ease.

[murray-magnesium]

"Oooh, excellent. I love an alcoholic caramel. Think normally we used to make it with vodka, though."

She mage handed a pot down onto her tiny stove top and kicked over a box to stand on, then lit the stove with a cantrip. "Hand that over. Oh, and--"

She reached a hand out, pointing to a spoon on the edge which instantly became warmer. "Ice creams in the ice box if you wanna get started. I did say a pint earlier, but that was a lie."

[murray-magnesium]

Azune keeps his pace relaxed as he makes his way through the Penteveral, the tension in his shoulders easing as he follows the familiar path to Murray's office.

He would admit it- he rushed ever-so-slightly on his patrol today. Not enough to endanger anyone, no, but the streets were calm... and he very much wanted that ice cream.

The Marshal cradles a small container of warm caramel drizzle by his side as he raises a hand to knock at the dwarven woman's door, an even one two three that she's probably used to hearing by now.

"It's me." Despite the call and the fact that Murray knew he was coming, he waits patiently for permission before continuing further.

"What a pleasant surprise, bless your heart."

It's said purely as a tease, and is accompanied by the sound of several chains pulled aside and a pull-rope to make the upper lock easier to reach. There were small folk quarters at the Pentevral now, but not when she'd first come in.

After a second, the door gravitates outward.

"Come in, kid," she told him. Her hat was off, and the make up she'd put on for a meeting with Kora was smudged, like she'd been rubbing at her eyes. "Come right in."

[last-knight-davinos]

Murray stumbles into the bar Julien had chosen — not because she was already inebriated, but because the minor tilt of a wooden plank may not be much to human sized people, but to a dwarf that had already used up her portents…well, let’s just say she really needed a drink. Her eyes glanced up from her signature hat, looking for the soldier who had invited her.

Julien sat relaxed on a stool at the bar, chatting up the bartender. He glanced back as the door opened and snorted. “Had a little already, madam bursar?”

He waved her over and pushed the stool next to him out with his boot, which had a built in step for her to use to climb up.

“You want shots, or something slower?”

[murray-magnesium]

“A little drink, a lot of bullshit, what’s the difference, really?” Murray climbed up with ease and tipped her hat to him. “I appreciate the thought, but if you didn’t want me to kiss your lordly hand you didn’t have to go to such lengths.” She gave him a shit eating grin. Murray might disagree with Julien on a great many things, but that didn’t make his banter any less fun or his company any less, inevitably and often unfortunately, exciting.

“You got anything from the Sunset Mountains? If not, any brandy is fine. We’ll take the bottle, and a pair of shot glasses.” She flicked her fingers, and little sparks fell from her nails and singed the table. “Fresh out of fire, so I better get myself some more. Got a game in mind?”

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien snorted at the implication, tossing his hair back as he settled back into his seat. “We can do a Sunset brandy, sure.” He gestured to the bartender, offering up enough coin for a bottle. A few moments later, two shot glasses and a bottle were placed between them at the bar. Julien murmured to her, “Victor isn’t working tonight, so if you want food, we’ll actually have to order it.”

At the mention of a game, his shoulders loosened. This was absolutely his arena. “Well that depends: do you want something more skill based? Or something that helps us learn more about each other?” There were also of course, random luck games, but he wasn’t drunk enough to play a game of chance against a divination wizard, portents or not.

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that depends on the skill. Its no fun if we aren't close to evenly matched. So learning it is." She tipped the server and removed her hat, placing one hand to the side of it around the glass and pouring with the other hand. She slid it to Julien with her pinky and ring finger and filled the other. "You'd think I get enough in my day job, but no. At least things will be guaranteed to be interesting with drinking involved."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien took the shot glass, tapping a finger on it idly. “Could do a simple trade, share some secrets…or we could play two truths and a lie. Drink if you win.” He shrugged, gesturing to her with a tilt of his head. “Fancy yourself a good liar, Mag’Nesson?”

A game was always good, it would slow him down, but still had the promise of revelry. He had full lease to get drunk off his ass tonight, and enough time to deal with the inevitable hangover in the morning, but he still wanted the night to last long enough to enjoy it, and that meant a little bit of patience.

[murray-magnesium]

"Oh, I can weave whole cloth from shit better than a dung beetle."

She tilted her glass and let it settle. "Okay. How about this? One, I use huckleberry lotion on my tits. Two, I'm fond of donkey steaks. And three--I used to work for the Cormoray."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien studied her as she spoke, searching for any particular inflection, any fidgeting, but found nothing. He didn’t know her well enough to catch a practiced liar on easy tells like that, so he studied her words instead.

“The first one.” He decided after a moment. “Too specific. No one’s using lotion just on their tits, you’d use it on all of you.”

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that's good logic, but nah, that's a specific lotion for skin folds. Besides, I find most men liable to think anything to do with these girlies must be false, he he he." She gave him a wild grin. "Anyway, its your drink. I'm actually not that fond of ass steaks, just the sort of company that thinks that's what I meant when I mentioned a proclivity for eating ass."

She readied the bottle to refill him. "Anyways, your turn."

[sergeant-sad-eyes]

Hey, kid. I got a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough if you want to stop by. - Murray Magnesium

...I have said it once before and I will say it again now.

I would kill for you.

I will bring something in turn. Perhaps booze? I don't think I can get ass and still have it warm enough by the time I arrive at the Penteveral.

[murray-magnesium]

Don't worry about it. Its probably not advisable for me to eat the entire thing on my own, so consider it a favor already.

You still remember how to get there? I know its been a while since our magic lessons.

[sergeant-sad-eyes]

Of course. I'll add the path to my patrol route and spend my break with you.

Perhaps longer than usual. I've been nudged by my colleagues to take a break more often- visiting a former teacher would certainly count.

I'll be there shortly. Thank you, Murray.

[murray-magnesium]

Of course.

[sergeant-sad-eyes]

Hey, kid. I got a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough if you want to stop by. - Murray Magnesium

...I have said it once before and I will say it again now.

I would kill for you.

I will bring something in turn. Perhaps booze? I don't think I can get ass and still have it warm enough by the time I arrive at the Penteveral.

[murray-magnesium]

Don't worry about it. Its probably not advisable for me to eat the entire thing on my own, so consider it a favor already.

You still remember how to get there? I know its been a while since our magic lessons.

[last-knight-davinos]

Murray stumbles into the bar Julien had chosen — not because she was already inebriated, but because the minor tilt of a wooden plank may not be much to human sized people, but to a dwarf that had already used up her portents…well, let’s just say she really needed a drink. Her eyes glanced up from her signature hat, looking for the soldier who had invited her.

Julien sat relaxed on a stool at the bar, chatting up the bartender. He glanced back as the door opened and snorted. “Had a little already, madam bursar?”

He waved her over and pushed the stool next to him out with his boot, which had a built in step for her to use to climb up.

“You want shots, or something slower?”

[murray-magnesium]

“A little drink, a lot of bullshit, what’s the difference, really?” Murray climbed up with ease and tipped her hat to him. “I appreciate the thought, but if you didn’t want me to kiss your lordly hand you didn’t have to go to such lengths.” She gave him a shit eating grin. Murray might disagree with Julien on a great many things, but that didn’t make his banter any less fun or his company any less, inevitably and often unfortunately, exciting.

“You got anything from the Sunset Mountains? If not, any brandy is fine. We’ll take the bottle, and a pair of shot glasses.” She flicked her fingers, and little sparks fell from her nails and singed the table. “Fresh out of fire, so I better get myself some more. Got a game in mind?”

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien snorted at the implication, tossing his hair back as he settled back into his seat. “We can do a Sunset brandy, sure.” He gestured to the bartender, offering up enough coin for a bottle. A few moments later, two shot glasses and a bottle were placed between them at the bar. Julien murmured to her, “Victor isn’t working tonight, so if you want food, we’ll actually have to order it.”

At the mention of a game, his shoulders loosened. This was absolutely his arena. “Well that depends: do you want something more skill based? Or something that helps us learn more about each other?” There were also of course, random luck games, but he wasn’t drunk enough to play a game of chance against a divination wizard, portents or not.

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that depends on the skill. Its no fun if we aren't close to evenly matched. So learning it is." She tipped the server and removed her hat, placing one hand to the side of it around the glass and pouring with the other hand. She slid it to Julien with her pinky and ring finger and filled the other. "You'd think I get enough in my day job, but no. At least things will be guaranteed to be interesting with drinking involved."

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien took the shot glass, tapping a finger on it idly. “Could do a simple trade, share some secrets…or we could play two truths and a lie. Drink if you win.” He shrugged, gesturing to her with a tilt of his head. “Fancy yourself a good liar, Mag’Nesson?”

A game was always good, it would slow him down, but still had the promise of revelry. He had full lease to get drunk off his ass tonight, and enough time to deal with the inevitable hangover in the morning, but he still wanted the night to last long enough to enjoy it, and that meant a little bit of patience.

[murray-magnesium]

"Oh, I can weave whole cloth from shit better than a dung beetle."

She tilted her glass and let it settle. "Okay. How about this? One, I use huckleberry lotion on my tits. Two, I'm fond of donkey steaks. And three--I used to work for the Cormoray."

[last-knight-davinos]

Murray stumbles into the bar Julien had chosen — not because she was already inebriated, but because the minor tilt of a wooden plank may not be much to human sized people, but to a dwarf that had already used up her portents…well, let’s just say she really needed a drink. Her eyes glanced up from her signature hat, looking for the soldier who had invited her.

Julien sat relaxed on a stool at the bar, chatting up the bartender. He glanced back as the door opened and snorted. “Had a little already, madam bursar?”

He waved her over and pushed the stool next to him out with his boot, which had a built in step for her to use to climb up.

“You want shots, or something slower?”

[murray-magnesium]

“A little drink, a lot of bullshit, what’s the difference, really?” Murray climbed up with ease and tipped her hat to him. “I appreciate the thought, but if you didn’t want me to kiss your lordly hand you didn’t have to go to such lengths.” She gave him a shit eating grin. Murray might disagree with Julien on a great many things, but that didn’t make his banter any less fun or his company any less, inevitably and often unfortunately, exciting.

“You got anything from the Sunset Mountains? If not, any brandy is fine. We’ll take the bottle, and a pair of shot glasses.” She flicked her fingers, and little sparks fell from her nails and singed the table. “Fresh out of fire, so I better get myself some more. Got a game in mind?”

[last-knight-davinos]

Julien snorted at the implication, tossing his hair back as he settled back into his seat. “We can do a Sunset brandy, sure.” He gestured to the bartender, offering up enough coin for a bottle. A few moments later, two shot glasses and a bottle were placed between them at the bar. Julien murmured to her, “Victor isn’t working tonight, so if you want food, we’ll actually have to order it.”

At the mention of a game, his shoulders loosened. This was absolutely his arena. “Well that depends: do you want something more skill based? Or something that helps us learn more about each other?” There were also of course, random luck games, but he wasn’t drunk enough to play a game of chance against a divination wizard, portents or not.

[murray-magnesium]

"I suppose that depends on the skill. Its no fun if we aren't close to evenly matched. So learning it is." She tipped the server and removed her hat, placing one hand to the side of it around the glass and pouring with the other hand. She slid it to Julien with her pinky and ring finger and filled the other. "You'd think I get enough in my day job, but no. At least things will be guaranteed to be interesting with drinking involved."

[candle-wic]

The Dough and Den is, like Murray said, more of a bakery than a tavern. The 'bar' is loaded with breads and stacks of pastries, and the scattered tables are more likely to have crumbs than half-emptied drinks. The one very quickly obvious thing to Wic, or any other tall folk entering, is that the Dough and Den is a haven for the micro minority (pun intended) of small folk in the big city. The default patron, whether gnome, halfling, dwarf or among the smaller beast folk, falls a good two heads bellow Wic's 5'11", and indeed human sized seats are in a corner against the wall, with those already set up at tables far lower. Murray, with one such chair already pulled across from her, has a coffee in one hand and a marking pen in another. She can't help but grin at seeing Wic duck through the doorwaym

Wicander’s eyes anxiously scanned the room until his eyes caught on a familiar hat, long red hair, a grin that loosened the tension in his shoulders. “Ms. Mag’Nesson!” A similar grin grew on his face. He rushed forward to greet her, hands raising to take hers—he didn’t see the hanging lantern until he’s smacked his forehead right into it. “Oh-!” He yelped, holding his forehead and reaching up to steady the swinging light fixture. “Oh, ow, oww…”

This was not the first time the waitress bussing tables had seen this exact scenario play out, and she kept her smile aimed away from the new guest so he wouldn’t cause a fuss about it. The lantern hungered for blood, and tonight it had claimed another victim.

[murray-magnesium]

“I could’a seen that coming from a mile away without a spell slot in sight,” Murray jokes, slapping the table as he gets closer. “Come on, come on down. Get on my level. In an effort toward friendship, you’ll notice I’m not even drinkin’.”

Immediately after, she takes the last few huge swallows of her coffee. “A triple shot off coffee, please, and a second loaf of whatever this gentleman decides. They’ve got rosemary floral bread, damn good bear bread, cheese and ham spiral buns, spinach swirl loaves, and it’s all heartier and homier than the womb itself.” The waitress gives a polite smile. “We use dwarf-milled flour from North of Timmony, which gives a distinctive texture without much changing the taste. The current special is sage and olive.”

[candle-wic]

A bit flustered, Wicander pulls out the chair across from Murray and sits, rubbing the pink mark on his forehead. He takes the teasing in good fun—it doesn’t ache too bad, more embarrassing than anything, but the pain is quickly forgotten for the sake of ordering. “Oh, sage and olive sounds just lovely right now, thank you madam.”

“Alright, and anything to drink for you, sir?” The waitress asks, jotting down their orders on a small pad of paper.

“Do you have lavender tea?”

“We sure do, sir. Our lavender we actually dry in-house, we get it fresh from a local garden.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, I’ll have that, then.”

“Alright, we’ve got two specials, one triple shot, and a lavender tea. I’ll go ahead and get that started for you!”

As she leaves, Wicander turns to Murray with excitement, bump on the head already forgotten. “It’s so good to see you, you would not believe the week I’ve had. —You look radiant, by the way, I love how you’ve done your hair.” He means it, though it’s less that she’s done something special with her appearance and more that he’s never seen her comfortable and happy before. If he realizes this, he certainly doesn’t comment on it.

[murray-magnesium]

"Thanks, its the rare day I get to wash it. NY curls could do with more than water and cantrips, but you know how it is."

She's pretty sure he doesn't, actually, and has an army to pamper him, but if he's approaching in good faith, so will she.

"So," she says evenly, "tell MW what's so unbelievable about your week."

[candle-wic]

He doesn’t, no, but he doesn’t want to seem uninformed in front of someone who works in academia so he gives just a smile in reply.

He lowers his voice, leaning in slightly. “Well, for starters, my family doesn’t even know I’m in the city. I’ve been going by a pseudonym—Nick—because I’m a very sneaky person now. Sort of like Thimble!” The way he says her name makes it clear he’s quite impressed by her.

[murray-magnesium]

"Learning to put subterfuge to practice. I like it."

The drinks arrive, and she takes a huge sip of hers. "What exactly has Nick been up to? Anyone I shouldn't mention him to?"

[candle-wic]

The tea is warm, soothing, and it smells wonderful. He takes gentle sips.

“Well, Nick has been doing a little bit of trickery, a little tiny bit of theft, and ah, getting into some admittedly quite scary battles. It turns out, when you move against the Tachonis, suddenly a lot of people are okay with killing and hurting you. Which,” he adds with a tilt of his head, “honestly I think is unbecoming.”

[murray-magnesium]

"Sounds like a dashing fellow, this Nick," Murray said with a saucy wink. "I hope he hasn't been caught. Otherwise we might have a repeat of dear Ol'Thjazi. We're working on establishing a safe house, Nick should know. With a very gifted young illusionist."

She gave a melodramatic sigh. "It really is a shame one of my favorite grad students and one of the Mercanade's favorite performers, Demodus Blix, is missing...I might have chosen him for the internship program we're starting with the Archenade...I DID choose Hero Daivon, though. Not the Fang sister I'd assume you were familiar with, but you're acquainted with Shadia Lloy, I would assume? How is your acting coming along?"

[candle-wic]

The elation at being called a dashing fellow is quickly culled by the reminder of just what happens to dashing roguish types in this city.

“I’ve met them both, actually!” He didn’t exactly remember which one was which, but he had great, brief impressions of each. “Though I don’t know the student you’re referring to. Is he someone I should know?”

[murray-magnesium]

"Well, he's not someone you should know, but maybe someday Nick might like to meet him. He's quite the showman, and very sweet. He's not someone I should know anymore either," Murray says with a sigh. "You think your week was crazy. You haven't had to literally burn body fat. Or commune with a mural. Or eat ass steak. And kiss ass with someone who sold out a friend. Or, worst of all, choose interns."

[candle-wic]

That was a lot to parse all at once, and Wic had never been great with magic or business. It didn’t sound nearly as scary as almost bleeding out twice, but he didn’t want to mention that to a friend that already seemed at her wits end. Unfortunately, he knew he was hardly following along.

“You’ll have to slow down just a bit. What was that about burning?”

[murray-magnesium]

"Human fat. The tachonis do magic rituals using candles made from their own relative's body fat. Have you seen how skinny they are? How many people do you think would be in one candle?" She shuddered. "Hey, you think we could get them in trouble trouble with your grandmother for appropriating candle feast or something?"

She let out a long breath full of small, nervous chuckles. "That was the night Hal and Bolaire met the end of a god and may have kind of killed the Lady of a Sundered House. Meanwhile I was having visions of death angels. We both thought our nights were crazier, and then we learned."

[candle-wic]

Wicander immediately put a hand over his mouth as he tried not to retch. “Oh, that’s awful! No no no, don’t- I don’t wanna know that. That’s- eeeugh!” He shook his head, earrings dangling, catching the light and refracting it against his jaw. “Truly the grossest House. Why is all the icky stuff Tachonis stuff?”

“And I swear the Sundered Houses are doing this on purpose—making so many moves that it’s impossible to keep track of everything, much less tell it all to each other. Teor’s brother got turned into a statue! You’d think that’d be the first thing I’d bring up, but everything is such a jumbled mess that I can’t even begin organizing the information by importance.”

[murray-magnesium]

“You’re tattoed in bodily fluids from a nonconsenting eternally enslaved prisoner, darling. I dare say that’s icky.” Murray leaned back. “A statue. huh. I suppose it is easier for the sundered houses to deal with resistance from immobile foes.” She sighed. “And for what it's worth, relevance is almost always more important than pure importance, anyways. Context above content.”

[candle-wic]

He grimaced, hand falling to his lap. Of all the things he could be thinking about, that was the very last on his list. The urge to scratch it out surged and he pushed it down again, that was ridiculous and an overreaction. “You’re not wrong.” He mustered.

“Ah, well if we’re going for relevance, I’d say I’m very interested in what the Creed is doing in Timmony. There’s a sickness breaking out that House Seremai seems to be helping them do outreach about—but it’s a total farce. I think they’re doing something completely untoward.”

[murray-magnesium]

"What, you think they're spreading the sickness themself? Ala good ol Grammy and her black bolt? Or using it for surveillance?" Murray grimaced. "People will say a lot of things if you get them feverish."

[candle-wic]

“I’m certainly not ruling it out. Unfortunately, with the Tachonis involved, I get the feeling it’s a lot more sinister than just that.” He took a long sip of his drink, worry plain on his face.

“The fact that it’s all happening in Timmony is even stranger. I think they’re plotting something, I just don’t know what.”

[murray-magnesium]

“Gold star, the Halovar and Tachonis are plotting something. Tell me something I don’t know.” Murray reached over and gave him a light shove. “Lighten up. These times may be unprecedented, but in a very precedented way. They’ve been pulling shit since the Shapers were still shatting.” Murray runs her finger around her glass. “I certainly wouldn’t mind a trip to Timmony. I think I get along quite fine with their nobility, if you know what I mean.”

[last-knight-davinos]

Murray stumbles into the bar Julien had chosen — not because she was already inebriated, but because the minor tilt of a wooden plank may not be much to human sized people, but to a dwarf that had already used up her portents…well, let’s just say she really needed a drink. Her eyes glanced up from her signature hat, looking for the soldier who had invited her.

Julien sat relaxed on a stool at the bar, chatting up the bartender. He glanced back as the door opened and snorted. “Had a little already, madam bursar?”

He waved her over and pushed the stool next to him out with his boot, which had a built in step for her to use to climb up.

“You want shots, or something slower?”

[murray-magnesium]

“A little drink, a lot of bullshit, what’s the difference, really?” Murray climbed up with ease and tipped her hat to him. “I appreciate the thought, but if you didn’t want me to kiss your lordly hand you didn’t have to go to such lengths.” She gave him a shit eating grin. Murray might disagree with Julien on a great many things, but that didn’t make his banter any less fun or his company any less, inevitably and often unfortunately, exciting.

“You got anything from the Sunset Mountains? If not, any brandy is fine. We’ll take the bottle, and a pair of shot glasses.” She flicked her fingers, and little sparks fell from her nails and singed the table. “Fresh out of fire, so I better get myself some more. Got a game in mind?”

[candle-wic]

The Dough and Den is, like Murray said, more of a bakery than a tavern. The 'bar' is loaded with breads and stacks of pastries, and the scattered tables are more likely to have crumbs than half-emptied drinks. The one very quickly obvious thing to Wic, or any other tall folk entering, is that the Dough and Den is a haven for the micro minority (pun intended) of small folk in the big city. The default patron, whether gnome, halfling, dwarf or among the smaller beast folk, falls a good two heads bellow Wic's 5'11", and indeed human sized seats are in a corner against the wall, with those already set up at tables far lower. Murray, with one such chair already pulled across from her, has a coffee in one hand and a marking pen in another. She can't help but grin at seeing Wic duck through the doorwaym

Wicander’s eyes anxiously scanned the room until his eyes caught on a familiar hat, long red hair, a grin that loosened the tension in his shoulders. “Ms. Mag’Nesson!” A similar grin grew on his face. He rushed forward to greet her, hands raising to take hers—he didn’t see the hanging lantern until he’s smacked his forehead right into it. “Oh-!” He yelped, holding his forehead and reaching up to steady the swinging light fixture. “Oh, ow, oww…”

This was not the first time the waitress bussing tables had seen this exact scenario play out, and she kept her smile aimed away from the new guest so he wouldn’t cause a fuss about it. The lantern hungered for blood, and tonight it had claimed another victim.

[murray-magnesium]

“I could’a seen that coming from a mile away without a spell slot in sight,” Murray jokes, slapping the table as he gets closer. “Come on, come on down. Get on my level. In an effort toward friendship, you’ll notice I’m not even drinkin’.”

Immediately after, she takes the last few huge swallows of her coffee. “A triple shot off coffee, please, and a second loaf of whatever this gentleman decides. They’ve got rosemary floral bread, damn good bear bread, cheese and ham spiral buns, spinach swirl loaves, and it’s all heartier and homier than the womb itself.” The waitress gives a polite smile. “We use dwarf-milled flour from North of Timmony, which gives a distinctive texture without much changing the taste. The current special is sage and olive.”

[candle-wic]

A bit flustered, Wicander pulls out the chair across from Murray and sits, rubbing the pink mark on his forehead. He takes the teasing in good fun—it doesn’t ache too bad, more embarrassing than anything, but the pain is quickly forgotten for the sake of ordering. “Oh, sage and olive sounds just lovely right now, thank you madam.”

“Alright, and anything to drink for you, sir?” The waitress asks, jotting down their orders on a small pad of paper.

“Do you have lavender tea?”

“We sure do, sir. Our lavender we actually dry in-house, we get it fresh from a local garden.”

“Oh that’s wonderful, I’ll have that, then.”

“Alright, we’ve got two specials, one triple shot, and a lavender tea. I’ll go ahead and get that started for you!”

As she leaves, Wicander turns to Murray with excitement, bump on the head already forgotten. “It’s so good to see you, you would not believe the week I’ve had. —You look radiant, by the way, I love how you’ve done your hair.” He means it, though it’s less that she’s done something special with her appearance and more that he’s never seen her comfortable and happy before. If he realizes this, he certainly doesn’t comment on it.

[murray-magnesium]

"Thanks, its the rare day I get to wash it. NY curls could do with more than water and cantrips, but you know how it is."

She's pretty sure he doesn't, actually, and has an army to pamper him, but if he's approaching in good faith, so will she.

"So," she says evenly, "tell MW what's so unbelievable about your week."

[candle-wic]

He doesn’t, no, but he doesn’t want to seem uninformed in front of someone who works in academia so he gives just a smile in reply.

He lowers his voice, leaning in slightly. “Well, for starters, my family doesn’t even know I’m in the city. I’ve been going by a pseudonym—Nick—because I’m a very sneaky person now. Sort of like Thimble!” The way he says her name makes it clear he’s quite impressed by her.

[murray-magnesium]

"Learning to put subterfuge to practice. I like it."

The drinks arrive, and she takes a huge sip of hers. "What exactly has Nick been up to? Anyone I shouldn't mention him to?"

[candle-wic]

The tea is warm, soothing, and it smells wonderful. He takes gentle sips.

“Well, Nick has been doing a little bit of trickery, a little tiny bit of theft, and ah, getting into some admittedly quite scary battles. It turns out, when you move against the Tachonis, suddenly a lot of people are okay with killing and hurting you. Which,” he adds with a tilt of his head, “honestly I think is unbecoming.”

[murray-magnesium]

"Sounds like a dashing fellow, this Nick," Murray said with a saucy wink. "I hope he hasn't been caught. Otherwise we might have a repeat of dear Ol'Thjazi. We're working on establishing a safe house, Nick should know. With a very gifted young illusionist."

She gave a melodramatic sigh. "It really is a shame one of my favorite grad students and one of the Mercanade's favorite performers, Demodus Blix, is missing...I might have chosen him for the internship program we're starting with the Archenade...I DID choose Hero Daivon, though. Not the Fang sister I'd assume you were familiar with, but you're acquainted with Shadia Lloy, I would assume? How is your acting coming along?"

[candle-wic]

The elation at being called a dashing fellow is quickly culled by the reminder of just what happens to dashing roguish types in this city.

“I’ve met them both, actually!” He didn’t exactly remember which one was which, but he had great, brief impressions of each. “Though I don’t know the student you’re referring to. Is he someone I should know?”

[murray-magnesium]

"Well, he's not someone you should know, but maybe someday Nick might like to meet him. He's quite the showman, and very sweet. He's not someone I should know anymore either," Murray says with a sigh. "You think your week was crazy. You haven't had to literally burn body fat. Or commune with a mural. Or eat ass steak. And kiss ass with someone who sold out a friend. Or, worst of all, choose interns."

[candle-wic]

That was a lot to parse all at once, and Wic had never been great with magic or business. It didn’t sound nearly as scary as almost bleeding out twice, but he didn’t want to mention that to a friend that already seemed at her wits end. Unfortunately, he knew he was hardly following along.

“You’ll have to slow down just a bit. What was that about burning?”

[murray-magnesium]

"Human fat. The tachonis do magic rituals using candles made from their own relative's body fat. Have you seen how skinny they are? How many people do you think would be in one candle?" She shuddered. "Hey, you think we could get them in trouble trouble with your grandmother for appropriating candle feast or something?"

She let out a long breath full of small, nervous chuckles. "That was the night Hal and Bolaire met the end of a god and may have kind of killed the Lady of a Sundered House. Meanwhile I was having visions of death angels. We both thought our nights were crazier, and then we learned."

[candle-wic]

Wicander immediately put a hand over his mouth as he tried not to retch. “Oh, that’s awful! No no no, don’t- I don’t wanna know that. That’s- eeeugh!” He shook his head, earrings dangling, catching the light and refracting it against his jaw. “Truly the grossest House. Why is all the icky stuff Tachonis stuff?”

“And I swear the Sundered Houses are doing this on purpose—making so many moves that it’s impossible to keep track of everything, much less tell it all to each other. Teor’s brother got turned into a statue! You’d think that’d be the first thing I’d bring up, but everything is such a jumbled mess that I can’t even begin organizing the information by importance.”

[murray-magnesium]

“You’re tattoed in bodily fluids from a nonconsenting eternally enslaved prisoner, darling. I dare say that’s icky.” Murray leaned back. “A statue. huh. I suppose it is easier for the sundered houses to deal with resistance from immobile foes.” She sighed. “And for what it's worth, relevance is almost always more important than pure importance, anyways. Context above content.”

[candle-wic]

He grimaced, hand falling to his lap. Of all the things he could be thinking about, that was the very last on his list. The urge to scratch it out surged and he pushed it down again, that was ridiculous and an overreaction. “You’re not wrong.” He mustered.

“Ah, well if we’re going for relevance, I’d say I’m very interested in what the Creed is doing in Timmony. There’s a sickness breaking out that House Seremai seems to be helping them do outreach about—but it’s a total farce. I think they’re doing something completely untoward.”

[murray-magnesium]

"What, you think they're spreading the sickness themself? Ala good ol Grammy and her black bolt? Or using it for surveillance?" Murray grimaced. "People will say a lot of things if you get them feverish."

[drawsmaddy]

[ID: A digital drawing of Azune Nayar and Murray Mag'nesson from Critical Role. Azune is kneeling down and hugging Murray with enough enthusiasm to knock her hat off. Murray is hugging him back with her left arm and catching her hat with her right hand. End description.]

I will kill for you