Hello loves! While I haven't been writing, I have been working on updating some issues that have been hanging around on the layout! The Character change box is now at the bottom of the page, beside the up/down arrows! Green and Gold dragon flight dates have been shifted to the bottom of the page, where the (useless!) discord widget was located. Where the dragon flights were in the header, is now replaced by a Monthly Event box! This will be updated at the start of each month, with a fun mini-event you can take part in, if you want to! Thistle!
06.Sep.13, 02:37 PM
It was not just cold, but fucking freezing when Warkhim left the warmth of his room to search for an appropriate wood to replace his broken dulcimer hammer. He slouched along the cobblestones, popping his head haphazardly into shops in search of anything made of suitable material- a strong oak or walnut, or perhaps cherrywood in a pinch- to remake the snapped left-handed hammer.
Oh, what a surprise that had been last night. Some idiotic little drudge had misplaced his hammer while cleaning his room earlier in the evening, a task he'd explicitly forbidden without his direct supervision, setting the finely made articles atop his chest of drawers near the door instead of their proper place beside his instrument. He'd returned to his room after his dinner, slush tracking along the halls from his thick boots, and shut the door behind him with no more gusto than a normal entry. Much to his shock and rage, the reverberation had been enough to knock the hammer from its place, cracking the face against the cold ground with an echoing snap. After calming himself with a few choice swears and vows of violence, Warkhim resolved to remake the unusable hammer the next day, and to find the responsible drudge and beat her with the broken one until he was content. Perhaps oaken splinters would teach her to obey him.
Stepping into a shop full of trinkets, baubles, and assorted crap, Warkhim surveyed the other shoppers with a discerning eye. An attractive blonde woman moved along the outside edge- she was far more attractive than the others present- and he idly smiled at her form. A lovely woman couldn't be covered by layers of fur, and the Archivist imagined rather vividly what she looked like beneath all that clothing.
Two young girls interrupted his thoughts, but he stared at them impassively, proud that he'd managed to hide his scowl. They were well-dressed and thankfully quiet, and, if their looks were any indicator, likely belonged to the blonde woman across the store. Warkhim sighed. Leave it to children to ruin a perfectly good body.
He squeezed past the girls to the back of the shop, and nestled among the children's toys and games was a fine display of checkers on a wooden board. He ran long fingers along the walnut surface, pleased by the firmness and cut of the wood, and considered how easy it would be to make not one, but two new dulcimer hammers from the reconstructed board. As much as Warkhim loathed manual labor he couldn't trust the Woodcrafters to understand a quality musical product, and would have to make them on his own.
After a moment lost in his appreciation of the board, he got the distinct and jarring feeling that he was being watched. Warkhim turned with an arched brow to see the younger of the two girls staring up at him as he surveyed the game. He squinted at her in silence for a long pause before finally drawling, "Yes?"
Oh, what a surprise that had been last night. Some idiotic little drudge had misplaced his hammer while cleaning his room earlier in the evening, a task he'd explicitly forbidden without his direct supervision, setting the finely made articles atop his chest of drawers near the door instead of their proper place beside his instrument. He'd returned to his room after his dinner, slush tracking along the halls from his thick boots, and shut the door behind him with no more gusto than a normal entry. Much to his shock and rage, the reverberation had been enough to knock the hammer from its place, cracking the face against the cold ground with an echoing snap. After calming himself with a few choice swears and vows of violence, Warkhim resolved to remake the unusable hammer the next day, and to find the responsible drudge and beat her with the broken one until he was content. Perhaps oaken splinters would teach her to obey him.
Stepping into a shop full of trinkets, baubles, and assorted crap, Warkhim surveyed the other shoppers with a discerning eye. An attractive blonde woman moved along the outside edge- she was far more attractive than the others present- and he idly smiled at her form. A lovely woman couldn't be covered by layers of fur, and the Archivist imagined rather vividly what she looked like beneath all that clothing.
Two young girls interrupted his thoughts, but he stared at them impassively, proud that he'd managed to hide his scowl. They were well-dressed and thankfully quiet, and, if their looks were any indicator, likely belonged to the blonde woman across the store. Warkhim sighed. Leave it to children to ruin a perfectly good body.
He squeezed past the girls to the back of the shop, and nestled among the children's toys and games was a fine display of checkers on a wooden board. He ran long fingers along the walnut surface, pleased by the firmness and cut of the wood, and considered how easy it would be to make not one, but two new dulcimer hammers from the reconstructed board. As much as Warkhim loathed manual labor he couldn't trust the Woodcrafters to understand a quality musical product, and would have to make them on his own.
After a moment lost in his appreciation of the board, he got the distinct and jarring feeling that he was being watched. Warkhim turned with an arched brow to see the younger of the two girls staring up at him as he surveyed the game. He squinted at her in silence for a long pause before finally drawling, "Yes?"
