Fuzzy: Down Time. Yr 4715 (Mid year)   Posted by DM.Group: 0
DM
 GM, 4596 posts
Mon 22 Mar 2021
at 12:50
Fuzzy:  Down Time.  Yr 4715 (Mid year)

This DOES NOT mark the start of a new 'year', nor is it a new campaign round - that will happen in June.  However, it is an opportunity for you to spend up to 25hrs crafting, or to make a Character Development Post.

Note: this thread is semi-IC and semi-OOC.  IC is nice, but feel free to use OOC if you need to.

Use this thread to make your downtime posts.  If your post involves using skills or feats to make items or earn money - then I expect to see a set of properly documented calculations in a private line at the bottom of the post.  You may use up to 25 days for Crafting.

If you are making a ‘What I did in the Downtime’ post -  feel free to use any of the minor NPCs casually.  Just don’t let them commit me, Henry or their employers to anything concrete - nor do anything out of character :)
Kiera Raincutter-Solanus
 player, 308 posts
Fri 9 Apr 2021
at 12:23
Fuzzy:  Down Time.  Yr 4715 (Mid year)
OOC:  *looks around, spotting an apple cart.  Creeps up on it... and then flips that sucker upside down, before running like anything*

Every downtime, I roll a d100 on my computer desk (that's percentile dice).  I made a quick little chart on some personal events in Ki's life, and what might happen if one of them starts to trigger, and then set them to a few different numbers, and decided to roll for them, once each downtime, to imitate the fickle finger of fate and probability, for something to come up.

So... this happened.  Nothing's set in concrete, but... consider it something that might be upcoming.


____________________________________________________________________________________

“...you're leaving?”

Kiera jumped, turning back as she looked at the figure of Rila, standing in the doorway, watching as Kiera prepared her pack with enough in the way of supplies for what looked to be at least two or three weeks.  Trail food, supplies for everything else, and a map with certain portions of the map drawn on and circled- as well as a book or three stacked up.  Stepping lightly, Rila walked over- her uniform rustling slightly as she moved- and picked up the top one.

“'Lives of the Fey'.  You're still on that kick about learning about them...?”

Rila's voice seemed to draw Kiera out of whatever she was doing- wrapping up one or two more bottles of applejack before settling them into her pack- in some well-worn and easy-to-wash clothes- and then she turned and plucked the small book out of her hands, setting it back on her shelf.

“...I kind of feel I have to, Ri.  I mean, look at me- I know one of my parents was one.  I don't know which one, but I'd wager it was my father.  For all I know, I was just the offspring of some satyr's tryst with a trapper, or something.

But I've reached out to as many of the old group as I can find, and, well... nobody really knows much.  They still say I was found in a grove of trees-”


Rila just interrupts Kiera with a scowl, and she leans up against the doorframe, watching Kiera pack.

“...and I thought you'd agreed with your blood-brother and cousin that you weren't going to go do this on your own, like you'd promised them about... what is it now, eighteen times?

Yet here you are, ready to disappear and leave and head north.  Why is that, I wonder?  What has you so spooked that-”


Kiera just shrugs, but Rila just isn't having it.

“No.  You saved my life by giving me a job.  Giving me the chance to have a life outside of the hell I left.  And guess what?  That means I don't let you go do something stupid- and that you finally stop lying- to me, to Alisa, Domitius, Lord Henry, everyone!”

This, however, made Kiera pause.  Then turn.

Rila had never seen her boss genuinely angry before.  Irritated, of course.  Grumpy with a hangover, well... almost every day, it seemed.

But when Kiera whirled on her, the look on her face was like a dark thundercloud.

“...and just what am I lying about, Ri?  You know I've told nothing but the truth to everyone, and-”

Rila took a deep breath, like she was tensing to loose an arrow- one perfect shot- and then did some thinking about her life in Tusk- and then finally, torn between keeping what she had, and seeking the truth...

...aimed and fired.

“No.  You need to stop, Ki.  Stop lying about your past.  Because I've seen the way you move.  I've seen you fight, I've been watching you practice.”

Again, Kiera blew her off- and Rila watched as she stuffed more supplies into her pack, yet again.

“You can ignore me, but if you do, I'll just go to Lady Alisa's and-”

“You're covering nights and my job while I'm away.  That means you get here when I usually do and do my duties, in addition to yours. I suggest you get some-”

Rila was getting fed up, at this point.  Staring at the back of her boss, she mouthed a silent prayer to Calistria and finally just walked up behind Kiera and reached out with her finger... and jabbed Kiera in the back, in a very specific spot.  One that stopped Kiera in her tracks, and froze her.

“...you don't move like a trapper does.  You never have.  You can't track, you don't hunt-”

“Ri, I swear by the Sting, if you don't drop this right godsdamned now, I'll-”

“What was life like at Feyfalls?  You know, being a Redbird?”

Bullseye.

Rila finally stopped talking- and if someone had told her the temperature in the room had dropped by about thirty degrees, she'd have believed them and asked for a coat.

Her boss had frozen in place, trembling.  Her fists clenched, her muscles tight-

“...that's where you were found, isn't it?  Because the fey never really ranged that far south of their little knot of the Narlmarch, but they'd be all over a place by the name of Feyfalls, wouldn't they?”

More trembling.  More in the way of tensing.

Time for the final push.

“...because a few years ago, I was trying to travel down to Liberthane, as part of a caravan.  I must have been some... maybe sixteen or so, at the time?

Our driver and caravan master told us he'd figured out a route through the forest to get there more quickly without drawing the attention of any of the bandit gangs there- especially any of Old Staggy's people, as some like to put it.

But he was wrong.  We passed too close to the place they call Feyfalls, and well... we were set upon.

The battle was swift, it was crazy- but one of the things I remember was a young woman, moving through her foes like they weren't even there- even as she ran a rapier through two or three of the guards we'd hired.

She couldn't have been much older than I was, and yet... here she was, a killer at heart.

In the end, though... we were captured.  Tied up, our things taken- but then... something strange happened.

The girl took responsibility for me.  Dragged me off to a nearby creek, and proceeded to take soap and water... and I watched her tremble, and then spew her guts out into the water four times.  Then, I watched her just scrub her arms and hands until they were pink and irritated- and then one more time until she'd sloughed some of the skin off her forearms.”


Rila licked her now-dry lips.

“...then she cut my bonds with a dagger- I was expecting the worst- and then she turned the handle to me and told me to whack her over the head or just stick it into her side, then to-”

Rila paused, hoping, praying, almost wishing Kiera would take the bait-

Chomp.

'...run like the devils and demons were nipping at your heels, girl, because we both don't want you to find out what'll happen if they still have their hands on you come nightfall.'

Rila let out a breath that she swore she'd been holding for years.

“I knew it was you.  I knew it.  I don't know why anyone else hasn't put the pieces together-”

Kiera finally turns to her. The woman's face is frozen.

“...because if it gets out that Lord Henry's got a murdering bandit on his payroll, well, what do you think will happen to the Nectar, Ri?  What will happen to all those I've tried to lift out of the mud and the everything to get them jobs?

What happens to you?  You're pretty much my second.  Word gets out about this, they'll paint you with the same brush.  Sting...”


Rila swears, under her breath.

“...do you think I care?  You think the rest of them care?  Would Lord Henry and the others understand?  You have to tell someone, Ki.  Please.  Because if something happens and the other side of this gets out-”

Kiera just shakes her head and keeps filling her pack, turning her back to Rila yet again.

“-then you know what'll happen.  I mean, go talk to someone- talk to Alisa, maybe Dom when he gets back-”

“-if Ali doesn't zap me into the ground, and if Dom doesn't go ahead and just run me through with that great big sword of his- mind you, that's after he has me booted from his family and made a pariah in Tusk, mind you-”

“-because you're not as horrible and irredeemable as you think you are!”


That shut her boss up but good- even if it didn't stop her from lashing the pack shut.

“...I forgive you. I mean, I left Galt because I was sick and tired of all of it- the killing, the bloodshed, the constant fighting. I made it to my relatives in Liberthane about three weeks later, but I never forgot you.

There are two sides to every story, Ki- the question is, do you want the side people hear first to be about Kiera Raincutter, reformed and renewed bandit trying her damnedest to redeem herself... or Kiera the Raincutter, a merciless killer and bandit hiding under Lord Henry's nose while setting herself up as the successor to the Stag King?”


“Neither will get out.  Because I'm not going to-”

Rila stomped her foot on the floor, the sound pausing Kiera in her work yet again.

“Because I've had three people in here looking for Kiera the Raincutter.  They know.  I've done what I can to keep them quiet- sent them all over the region, said you went on a trip to Magnimar, Absalom, Riddleport, anywhere I could think of to buy you some time.

You can't hide any more, Ki.  Sooner or later the wrong people are going to hear about you.  Sooner or later, it's going to come out, and if you're not the one to admit it, what is the population going to think?  How many people out there have lost family to bandits?  How many are going to think the latter example is who you really are?”


Pausing, Rila took a breath- only to see Kiera end up taking a cloth hat from a stand by her bed (how did one sleep with that many furs and blankets, anyways?), and plopped it on her head, seeming to shift into another woman before Rila's very eyes.

“That's how.  And as far as that information, well... that's up to you, isn't it?”

Afterwards, she didn't know why she'd reacted that way- but she'd still say she was proud of herself for doing so.

“Because if you don't, I'll head over to Lady Alisa's.  Or Lord Henry's, or Lord Cyrus's place, and tell them.  Because you're obviously not brave or courageous enough to, and if there's people moving in- actual bandits feeling this place out... then someone will have to do something before people get hurt.

Or maybe it's bounty hunters.  You never know- you could still have a price on your head.  They have long memories.”


Kiera opened her mouth again, but this time, she was ready.

“...because this time, there won't be a Kiera to help the ones who get taken, and they will find out what happens in a camp after nightfall.

It's not about you any more, boss.  But for what it's worth... I hope you pick the right play.

I'm going home.  I have work in the morning; I hope you'll come to your senses and still be here.

Your trip can wait.  This can't.  And by the Lady in the Room, I hope you make the right decision.”


Leaving a gawking Kiera, Rila turns on her foot and steps out of the room, closing the door behind her.
DM
 GM, 4647 posts
Mon 12 Apr 2021
at 08:25
Fuzzy:  Down Time.  Yr 4715 (Mid year)
Very occasionally, I feel the need to write an IC 'perspective' post as well.  It helps me stay in-touch with my NPCs :)  Welcome to the life of a commoner, who lives in one of the poorer parts of a chaotic city.



Poppy lay awake thinking about the coin.  She never got it home, of course.  Almost, but not quite.  She couldn’t run fast enough, and Jimmy had got a beating when he tried to stop them. Her arm still hurt from where they grabbed her and threw her against the wall.  Still, that was done with now.  It would all have been spent by now.  Some lucky girl would have new ribbons in the morning, and probably a bulging belly in a few months, and some lad will have learned what a whiskey-jack  hangover feels like.
No point in going to the guards, they weren’t too bothered about what went on out here and it wouldn’t get the coin back anyway – and it would just make trouble.   Still, they won’t get away with it completely. Dad, and a couple of his friends, will ‘talk to them’ over the next few days and ‘explain’ to them why they shouldn’t do things like that.  But they knew that would happen when they took the coin.  Sometimes the fun is worth the beating.

On the other side of the bed, grandma rolled over and groaned softly, as her old bones settled into their new position.  Cousin Jimmy had shared the bed with them, up until a few months ago, then mum and day said he should sleep on a pallet, on his own, because he had got bigger and was almost a man now.  It was nice to have a bit more room, but it wasn’t quite as warm.

Dad grunted, and mum murmured something soft – although Poppy tried not to notice noises like that   It was a part of grown-up life that she didn’t want to know about yet.  The two beds  were separated by a thick curtain, that mum had made from old sacks.  It gave them all a bit of privacy – and Poppy smiled as she remembered helping to make it, and the silly rag patterns she had woven into it.  Silly little girl patterns, but they made the place a bit more cheerful.

Dad had got the sacks from work.  Most had held feed for the animals as they were bought into the slaughterhouse and were left behind when the farmers went back home, with a few coins in their pockets and a mule loaded up with things they had brought in town.  He said it was one of the perks of his job.  He was a gang supervisor, making sure that the other labourers carried the carcasses to the right place, and that they cleaned up properly afterwards.  He had promised to get Cousin Jimmy a job carrying and sweeping when he was older.  Not the best pay, but steady, and Jimmy would be able to do that OK.

Dad was well respected around the areas.  Big and strong from carrying carcasses, and years in the militia meant he knew lots of people.  People didn’t mess with them much - well not unless they had a gold coin.  That was a week’s wages for a lot of the men around here, and more than some earned.

A handful of coppers would have been good, Poppy thought ruefully.  There would have been a bag of nuts from the market  to  make the breakfast porridge a bit special for a few days, and she would have been able to keep the rest.  Then she would have had a new ribbon and, perhaps, a piece of that nice honey cake that they sell in the market.

Then she turned over and tried to settle to sleep.  What is done, is done – and tomorrow is another day.

This message was last edited by the GM at 17:38, Mon 12 Apr.