#driftward

[healerstail]

The Hit

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 13. Butte Characters: Solita Grey, Thancred Waters Rating: Teen Summary: Naturalists, man. What a pain in the- Notes: Weird Wild West AU - A Desertwalkers story

The Cat's Eye Cabaret was the center of cultured entertainment in Stonewood, attracting would-be stakeholders, investors, up and comers, and all manner of classy individual hoping to make their mark at the beginning of a new era.

Solita had no such lofty goals herself, but there was good coin to be made in catering to the tastes of those who did. And being known as a cultured consultant and companion herself put her in a good position to overhear rumours, gather information, and be at the forefront of certain types of troubles before they became problems. Her sharp wit, keen intelligence, and clever tongue were well known and well sought after.

Tonight was no different. She was idling on the edge of the cabaret, keeping an eye on her current client who seemed intent to ply the barkeep's wares into nonexistence. She was weighing the benefits of interceding against the value of letting them learn a lesson when a man slid out of the shadows and gently hooked his arm around her elbow.

"I am glad I thought to check. I thought your dance card would be full, but it would seem you've a moment. May I?"

"Thancred," she said, with a smile, grateful for the interruption in her musings. "Please and kindly. I am rather afraid my current client is proving a bit of a boor."

Thancred began to lead them towards a table, where they took their seats. "Oh, is she? All the better to nudge her during those negotiations tomorrow, I would think."

Solita rested her head in her hands, looking at Thancred over the elegant candle centerpiece. "I would prefer her sober for such, that I may be more certain my advice might -land- rather than be addled by her impairment. And I had rather hoped for some entertainment this evening, but I believe I shall be left to my own self, and her to her inebriation."

"Our dear lady Grey, has she perhaps judged poorly?"

"I do make mistakes, Thancred," she said, grimacing. "There is no fault in admitting so, and she may very well be one. Just as well. She is a touch handsier than I care for, and slow to be dissuaded from such."

"And those business developments she wishes to forward?"

"Harmless, upon consultation. She would prefer trade with the local Hhetsaro, rather than attempt to establish her own concerns."

"Ah, well, that does make our job easier, doesn't it? Hardly need to get involved."

Solita nodded, retrieving a flute of wine from a passing server.

"And how are matters between you and the school mistress? To hear Ryne tell the tale, you two are getting along rather well."

Thancred rubbed the back of his head. "Ask me later. I was hoping to speak to you more on the subject of troublesome clients. Specifically, where is our naturalist just now? Off on her second survey yet?"

Solita harrumphed, sipping her wine. "Indeed. She is down by the southern buttes, gathering... Weave readings, apparently."

"That's a fairly magically active place," said Thancred. He leaned forward, looking at Solita carefully. "Your sight would have been helpful there, whatever her task. She is still one of your clients, yes?"

"She is," said Solita, primly. "However, she did not ask for anything other than information, so I offered naught more than that."

Thancred looked at her flatly for a moment, then shrugged.

"Might be just as well. I ask because I looked into her, just as you requested."

"And what, pray tell, did you discover?"

"Zoissette Vauban," said Thancred, allowing for an unnecessarily dramatic pause, "does not exist."

Solita's ears went up just a bit, and she set down her wine.

"Well, do not leave me in suspense. Go on."

Thancred settled back into his seat, turning his gaze to the dancers filing onto the cabaret stage, though he was not watching them, not really. "Near as anyone can tell, she arrived from over the ocean - with the cargo. Registered under the Gorgagne Trade Company, which tells us nothing of use, as they provide shipping for a number of concerns. Most notably Kraken Arms, but they also do work for a variety of industrial concerns from out that way."

Solita frowned. "Former sailor escaping their past, mayhaps?"

Thancred shook his head. "The way she carries herself? Unlikely. I believe her to be of the gentry. Which, to be honest, to be a successful naturalist she almost needs to be, or to be sponsored. But my contacts overseas could find no note of anyone with her name in any journals. In fact, outside of her contributions to our own local library, I'm not at all convinced she's published at all."

"That says little," said Solita, idly. "I often do not bother myself to submit mine own findings."

"A terrible oversight I sorely wish you'd stop allowing yourself to indulge in. But nevermind that."

"So, unpublished. You said you thought she was of a high social class, however?"

"Likely. But none of the families over there boast the name Vauban amongst their number... other than a very old, very small family far in Gridania."

"Might this be another Aurelia sort of situation? I recall she also claimed to be a naturalist, only for us to find out her brother Alistair was the actual naturalist, and she was more of a ... venture opportunist."

"I doubt it there is any connection whatsoever. Vauban is an older family which has no eligible children as of now. Just an old patriarch who apparently is more than happy to act as a kindly historian, recounting his ancestor's role from the time of the Autumn War. So, historically significant name... but not currently."

"So a name borrowed, then. Perhaps for ill? Might it be worth looking into seeing if anyone is attempting to gain profit from such deception."

"No profit to be gained. Again, the name is only of historical interest, and the old man, from what my latest message tells me, lives in comfort, but not in great wealth."

"So that leaves us where we started," said Solita, thoughtfully. "A woman with no history and a name that seems at best to only borrowed." She crossed her arms, and sat back.

Thancred turned his attention to her, and watched her carefully.

"You yourself mentioned her first survey was of little interest. Simply doing exactly as she claimed - learning local knowledge, tall tales and facts alike, and verifying the veracity or lack thereof of such." He shrugged. "You might continue to keep an eye on her if you like, but other than her charming habit of stabbing the occasional blundering idiot who fails to heed her warnings when she tries to warn them off, she seems almost endearingly, eccentrically harmless."

"So did that Hemet fool, until he disrupted the Rroneek migration and got gored for his trouble," groused Solita.

"Ah, but I believe we all saw that little misadventure coming. And he was no client of yours, so you have no claim to blame, if that's what you're concerned about."

"You well know I am not. My clients heed my advice or not, and that reflects upon their judgement, not mine."

"Still affects your reputation."

"My reputation for honesty exceeds all."

"And for bluntness."

She glared at him, her ears going back just a little. "Is this conversation to be a criticism of how I handle my affairs, then?"

Thancred held his hands up slowly with a grin. "No, no. Just making conversation. I'd like to go to bed with my tatters unsinged, if it's all the same to you."

Solita shifted her weight and took a sip of her wine, her eyes narrow and ears back, but only for a few moments longer before she settled, apparently deciding to let the matter go.

"Well, I thank you for looking into the matter," she said.

"My pleasure."

The two watched the activity of the Cat's Eye, a companionable silence between them as the cabaret continued about its business.

"Well, I suppose I am obligated to child sit for a while longer, then," Solita said at last, beginning to stand.

"Are you referring to your current client, who I believe I see currently trying to balance the floor, or our eccentric enigmatic errant errand woman?"

Solita rolled her eyes at his wordplay. "Good night, Thancred."

"Have fun," he said cheerfully as she wandered off. He watched as Solita approached the well-to-do debutante, and began to try to steer her away from the bartender. Even at this distance, he could see the annoyance in her expression and in her bearing, ears back and tail thrashing something terrible.

In the meanwhile, he considered the naturalist once more. It had been some time since one of her clients had taken up so much of her attention.

He took her abandoned wine and thoughtfully took a sip. Perhaps he should head out to the southern buttes, and take the measure of this naturalist himself.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

This clocked in at exactly 75 characters, which I took to be serendipitous. So, if you please: You either die woke, or live long enough to see yourself become problematic

with any luck I’ll be out of the tumblr game if/when that comes to pass, fingers crossed to kickstart my culinary career before the forces of evil take me for their own 

Askbox is currently closed as I work my way through these older asks

[prokopetz]

This one's just for my own edification. What role playing system would you recommend for running Mad Max? The road combat parts with spiky cars, shooting, and long chase scenes. Being able to run the big rig scenes from Road Warrior or Fury Road a big (rig) plus.

If it’s specifically goofing around with big gnarly war rigs you’re after, I’d probably go with Atomic Highway. The way it handles vehicle stats is pretty abstract, so there isn’t a huge amount of customisation possible, but if you’re okay with all armour-plated big rigs with grille-mounted flamethrowers having essentially the same stats it’s totally workable. Plus, the PDF version is free.

[driftward]

Title: FFXIV Write 2024 - 14. Telling Characters: Zoissette Vauban, Solita Grey Rating: Teen Summary: Solita has two hands and two clients. One's a gadfly, the other's an idiot, this is a vexing evening. Notes: Weird Wild West AU, a Desertwalkers story

Solita was enjoying the pleasant turn in the evening at the Cat's Eye cabaret.

Her date for the evening had momentarily vanished, saying he wished to go refresh himself before retiring for the night. The man was a well meaning Hrothgar gentleman from Bozja. Apparently interested in local opportunities which he could leverage for his concerns back home. Kind enough, but she got the distinct impression he was not quite taking her seriously. He asked the right sort of questions, asking for her expertise on many matters, but was perhaps a bit too fond of his jests, and often seemed distracted. He had not been quite rude, nor quite condescending, but, well.

It was frustrating. But that was a common enough state of affairs in her line of work. She took a sip of her champagne. For all that, though, he had been charming, and had a likable demeanor. If he did not wish to heed her, that would be rather more his problem than hers, and she had high hopes for the momentary entertainments of the evening. In the morning, he would be on his way, and she could review what she had learned with the others.

For now, she found herself simply enjoying the atmosphere of the cabaret. She exulted in her senses, the taste of fine liquor on her tongue, the slightly spicy smell of people and cedar and food and drink that wafted through the air, the thrum of the music through the floorboards, the visual spectacle of dancers on the stage. Even the auras of the place were flowing and pulsing pleasantly, the Weave choosing to reflect everyone's good mood.

Her work could be frustrating at times, but it also had its perks, and moments like this were among them. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and just took it all in.

"Ah! Mz. Grey! I was hoping I would find you here!"

She pondered, for the briefest of moments, about the sheer relief and joy she might feel in getting help from Thancred to hide a body.

When she opened her eyes, she could see the bright starriness of Zoissette's aura before she caught sight of her big stupid grinning face.

Her ears went back immediately.

Zoissette didn't notice. She had one of her notebooks open, and was excitedly pointing at her entries in it.

"The petrified forest was a revelation! I have finished my spectral analysis, and you would not believe the aspects of the aether I found within them. Well, maybe you would, actually. I managed to confirm some of your-"

Solita reached up and grabbed the collaring on Zoissette's dress, pulling her ear down to mouth level.

"I am with another client tonight," she hissed. "Make an appointment."

Zoissette's expression immediately shifted to mild horror, and she cleared her throat as Solita let her go. "Oh, I apolo-"

"Why hello! Who's this!" boomed a cheerful voice.

Solita took a deep breath and forced a smile as she turned. The Hrothgar gentlemen had returned, and he took her hand, bowing deep to give it a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, before turning his attention to Zoissette, giving her a friendly smile.

"Hello, dear," said Solita stiffly. "Zoissette, this is the esteemed Pretorad Desasch, a gentleman from Bozja. Pretorad, this is Zoissette Vauban, who I believe was just stopping by on her way home."

Solita watched Zoissette sharply. Not giving a full introduction could be considered rude, but she did not particularly care just this moment. However, as she spoke, she could see Zoissette shift. The woman stood up a little straighter. Her previously open expression faded to a detached half smile. Her posture shifted, her arms pulling in to her sides, and she somehow made herself look more ... presentable? Elegant?

Not quite. Solita could now see what Thancred had already pointed out to her in an earlier conversation. Zoissette was a member of the gentry, possibly even nobility. She always had a certain poise and posture to her, but previously it had been open, care free. Now she was closed off but presentable, lightly guarded, somehow in that twilight between welcoming but not truly universally approachable.

This was a woman who was used to the upper echelons of the spoken and unspoken languages of power. A place where Solita herself lived these days, as part of her work.

"Pretorad Desasch, I do not believe I have known the pleasure," said Zoissette, her voice more airy than usual. Distant. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I must offer my sincere apologies, however, as the Mz. Grey has the right of it. I am only recently returned from my errands, and perhaps should be heading for my home."

Zoissette offered a curtsy. Her words and tone were polite. She was being mildly deferential.

"Nonsense," said Pretorad, as he wrapped one arm around Solita and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Any friend of Solita's is a friend worth getting to know. Come, stay with us a moment! Tell me, Lady Vauban, was it? What do you do around here?"

He gestured at the bartender while Solita continued to stare daggers at Zoissette. "I would say she is perhaps more of an acquaintance."

"Well, as mentioned, Mz. Grey has the right of it, and I do not wish to bother either of you much longer," said Zoissette, her face still wearing that distant half-smile. "But if the sir must know, I am a naturalist. My interests lie in the local flora, fauna, and histories."

"Oh, and were you trying to hide this gem from me, dear Solita?" asked Pretorad, laughing. "Or perhaps you were eager to retire for the night? But please, Lady Vauban, entertain me for a few questions, would you?"

Zoissette tilted her head, a question. But in the motion was a subtlety. The tilt was towards Solita, and angled so that Solita could see her eyes despite her glasses, see that she was clearly looking to her. Solita, after a moment's hesitation and thought, gave the slightest nod. There was little helping the matter now, she decided. Might as well get this over with and quickly, if possible.

Zoissette gave Pretorad a curtsey, and Pretorad waved his hand towards the barkeep. "Splendid! Simply splendid. Three drinks, my good man, whatever they like, and I'll have some of that local specialty, what's it called? Mezzal?"

"Mezcal, sir," said Zoissette politely. "I shall follow the gentleman's example."

Solita simply gestured for the barkeep to top of her glass, and he nodded. It did not take him long to provide their drinks to them, and Pretorad leaned his back against the bar, facing outward. Space enough for Solita on one side, but able to keep his attention on Zoissette on the other.

"A naturalist! Tell me more. Anything currently have your interest?"

"Verification of local histories and folklore while I survey the local landscape. There is a cornucopia of information to be gleaned for those who seek it. I am only recently back from an expedition, and Mz. Grey's services proved invaluable in its success."

Zoissette gestured at Solita as she spoke, and bowed her head towards her.

"Surveying, hmm?" said Pretorad thoughtfully. He glanced over at Solita. "And how did the seer's insight help with that?"

"She knows the local area far better than I, and its histories, as well as having an intimacy with the land that I lack. Her findings, combined with my own, enabled me to create a more accurate map with increased fidelity and previously uncharted information on aetheric densities in the area I explored."

"Fascinating, fascinating, simply fascinating! Aetheric densities, hmm? Well, wonders never cease, when it comes to wonders! Any plans for another expedition?"

"Ah. Well. When she is once more able to spare some time for me, I was hoping to gain her insight to the fields to the north, and perhaps begin another survey."

"Hmn. Might I be able to convince you to show me where you are speaking of?"

Zoissette hesitated, slightly, but after a moment, she pulled a map out of one of her bags, and carefully laid it out over two nearby barstools. She pointed as she spoke. "This is not a political map, so kindly overlook the lack of recognizable landmarks. I can tell you that Stonewood, where we are now, is here; my prior surveys happened in the grasslands not so far from here. And here, near the southern buttes, and here, in the petrified forest. My next survey I intend to perform shall be here, the outer ceruleum fields."

Pretorad looked over the map with a practiced eye, rubbing his chin. "Interesting," he murmured. He glanced over at Solita. "Some of these are places I too am curious about. I notice you updated the topographical markers, and made note of mineral veins and other such areas of interest. And these markings?"

"The aforementioned Aetheric readings. You may use the guide in the lower corner, sir."

"Hah hah! Of course, of course. And next, I cannot help but notice that is near the outer ceruleum fields. I believe they are yet virgin. Perhaps trying to get in on a little early tapping action, hmn?"

Zoissette stiffened slightly, and while Solita remained outwardly relaxed, she felt a twinge of alert.

"My interests, I assure you sir, are not commercial in nature."

Pretorad laughed at that. "Of course not, of course not! A naturalist would never sully their good name with such matters, I am certain. Why, they know every number except the economic, am I right? The quantity of every mass, but the value of none, to mangle a phrase? Hah hah hah!"

Zoissette froze for a moment, and Solita was immediately very on edge. She did not know fully which insults that Zoissette was prone to taking exception to, but this was one of Pretorad's not-quite-rude comments she herself had been diplomatically ignoring all night. But now she wondered if she would be having to deal with her client being stabbed.

But then, Zoissette laughed, a hollow, tittering thing. "Ah, of course, good sir, of course," she said stiffly.

"The sir may know the price of ceruleum futures, but 'tis the naturalist that sees the value beyond the economic. Such true value may be a question of taste, but if the good sir cannot see nor understand that which the naturalist values, he will find himself all the poorer for it," said Solita bitingly. She was not sure why she had been so deferential tonight, anyroad. The man was pleasant, but becoming a boor, and she nor her reputation would suffer fools.

Galling though it was to be stuck mediating between a fool and an idiot.

"My, I'd almost forgotten what a sharp tongue you have," said Pretorad cooly. He reached over to gently curl a finger under Solita's chin, and smiled kindly at her. "I hope to not find out anything about the sharpness of those teeth, later.

"But! You are right, and I would be more the fool to not heed your counsel which I am paying handsomely for, after all," he said, letting his hand drop. "My apologies to both of you, ladies."

Zoissette relaxed, and curtsied. "I accept your apology, and choose to take no further offense, sir."

Solita just made a small noise of assent and sipped her champagne.

"Hah! Well, thank you, my lady. My, you certainly know your manners," he said thoughtfully. "And your terrain," he added, gesturing at the map, which Zoissette reached for and began to roll up. "I wonder what you might say to a potential sponsorship, assuming you aren't self sponsored or don't already have one? Even if you do, I think I would be best pleased to offer my support. Or even just purchase first rights, whatever that would cost me. You've the seer's faith, it seems, and now that I've seen your work, I think I would like to pay for my own faith in your future work."

Solita watched this exchange with mild interest. Zoissette did not tense up again, and this was rather more like the business sort of conversation she had been hired on for with Pretorad.

"I appreciate your interest, sir," said Zoissette. "However, I find myself deferring to the Lady Grey. My work would not be possible without hers. I would prefer that you confer with her, and perhaps she can serve as a necessary intermediary between your business and mine."

"Oh, of course, of course," said Pretorad thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. He set his drink down. "Ah! I have forgotten my case and papers back at our table from earlier. How remiss of me to not bring them along for such important discussion. If you will give me a moment, I shall return."

He bowed to Zoissette, who curtsied in turn, then turn and gently took Solita's hand to give it a kiss. She gifted him with a smile, and a gentle wave.

As he left passed out of close distance, she turned on Zoissette just in time to see the woman deflate, turning to hold herself up against the bar.

She looked some kind of miserable, and Solita felt a pang of concern despite herself.

"I had forgotten how tiring all this could be," she said. "I meant to apologize earlier, Mz. Grey. I would not intentionally interfere with your work. And I must apologize now. I think, that I will be taking my leave."

Solita looked over at where Pretorad apparently was just finding his glasses in his briefcase, and beginning to flip through some papers he seemed to always have near or on him.

"He shall wonder at your absence," she said.

"Ah, the usual excuses shall suffice. I hate to be a further burden, but just tell him I excused myself with a case of the vapors. I doubt he is the type to be rude enough to insist on inquiring further after that. He should recognize the excuse for what it is." She paused. "Should." Another moment. "I hate all these stupid games."

"You seems to excel at playing these games of words and meaning," said Solita, feeling faintly baffled.

"I excel at being -polite-, which I choose to be," said Zoissette stiffly. "And - no. Forget it. I apologize, again. Good night, Solita."

Solita frowned at her as she went. "Hold a moment, if you would."

Zoissette paused.

"...you can make arrangements through Mz. Gohtawyn, if you still wish to speak to your findings."

Zoissette turned to her with a pained smile, pushing up her glasses, and just shook her head slightly.

"I will not waste any more of your time on this," she said. "Do not worry. If you are truly curious, I will publish to our local library before next season. Your contributions will be noted, and I do intend to seek you out before I make for my next survey. Take care, Mz. Grey."

Zoissette left, allowing no time for further comment, and Solita was left at the bar, feeling oddly bemused at the exchange.

Pretorad returned, with his case, holding some papers, looking around curiously as he did so.

Solita gestured to him with a champagne glass. "The Lady Vauban has retired for the evening."

"Has she now? I suspected as much. Damned shame, but understandable. I hope you're not too upset at my attempt to poach such a gem from your hand. I was told of your reputation, but to see the exact caliber of person in your orbit! Hmn. And her bearing... former military on top of all that, I'd wager. I have been short sighted."

Solita wanted to protest, but did not, instead just swirling her champagne in her glass. "More the fool you, then. You know my reputation. I can hardly fault you for not taking me at face value, but perhaps you might have verified such yourself."

"Hah! Forgive me my methods, but if you'll allow, I find that I have done exactly that."

"Well I hope you find yourself satisfied," said Solita, finishing her drink. She was tired of tonight, between these two. "Perhaps we might retire for the evening as well?"

He set down his papers. "Business before pleasure, if you don't mind. Indulge me?"

"If you insist."

They both sat down at the bar, and he began to go over his interests in the area once more, conversations they had already had. But this time, she noticed, to her rather deep annoyance, that he was paying more attention this time around, seemed more inclined to heed her words. Earlier in the day he had been more boisterous, more cheerful, almost at play. But now, he was clearly being more serious about matters, taking notes, deferring to her very expensive expertise.

She took the matter professionally, and hid her annoyance. At least he was finally taking her seriously, and frankly, that did give her a sense of satisfaction. As their conversation winded into the late hours and resolved, and they at last retired, Solita had one last annoyance, however, as she found herself wondering after one Zoissette Vauban.

[prokopetz]

I may be getting roped into running a tabletop role playing game shortly, and I was considering using BESM (3rd edition) to do so. I have found your posts on the assumptions that systems have baked into them to be enlightening, and I think they will help me with campaign design. In that light, I am wondering, what is your read on the assumptions that BESM has baked into it?

Unless you have some specific reason you want to use Big Eyes Small Mouth 3rd Edition, I wouldn’t particularly recommend it. It wants you to do a fair amount of math to no real purpose because the point budgets don’t actually mean anything. The game’s designer was infamous for his “there are no bad rules, only bad players” philosophy, and was quite vocal about the fact that he regarded himself as having no responsibility for effective game design whatsoever, as any rules issues that arise at the table are obviously the result of bad faith on the part of the players rather than anything to do with the game. It’s consequently difficult to say what assumptions the text is making about how the game ought to be played, since it’s not clear that it intends the rules as written to actually be used.

(Of course, said designer later defrauded a bunch of people - myself included - and dropped off the face of the planet, only to resurface years later skimming royalties from PDF sales of games that he never held copyright on in the first place due to stiffing his freelancers, so in retrospect his attitude toward game design was probably a reflection of his attitude toward personal responsibility in general!)

Anyway, if you’re interested in a game that’s broadly similar to BESM 3rd Edition in terms of its mechanics, but with less pointless number-crunching, more rigorous design, and not published by a criminal, you might have a look at OVA. There are some free previews over in the right-hand column if you’d like to scope out the basics before you commit to anything.

In terms of style, OVA‘s gameplay assumptions are pretty obviously informed by 1990s harem comedies. Player characters are expected to balance their cool powers with long lists of roleplaying disadvantages, and the default character creation method is “zero sum” - i.e., you’re expected to balance every positive mechanical trait with a roleplaying disadvantage of notionally equal value. This leads in practice to a division between low-powered characters with grounded personalities, and high-powered characters with bewilderingly complicated personal lives and severe mental hangups. You do have to keep on top of stuff as a GM in order to make sure that those complications actually matter in play, but you’ll rarely be hurting for plot hooks.

[healerstail]

The Merc and The Miqo