Open [Rearing Stallion] Have Your Pie and Eat it Too (Open)

[Orin Fenix]

Post OrderI've decided to have a pretty lax post order here. Try not to go too crazy, by which I mean wait a bit before responding please. But if you want to pop in for a post or two and just eat a pie and leave that's also totally fine. If you just want to do a one poster we can assume that Orin gave you the pie you asked for

22nd of Spring, 515AV

Orin was probably the most terrified he’d even been in his life. For once, he wasn’t in the back of the kitchen happily working away at whatever dish happened to be the meal of the day. And he wasn’t out in the woods or the mountains hunting down some obscure ingredient to spice up a dish. He wasn’t even training his physical skills or, worse, fighting for his life. Despite all that, today held a special kind of dread for Orin. Today, as a reward , which Orin thought was a cruel excuse for a joke, for all his hard work in making the pies Orin was allowed the day off from cooking. Instead, he was to be the public face of The Rearing Stallion on the day of their pie-eating contest. Orin had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was taking deep breaths to try and mitigate some of his anxiety but spending an entire day dealing with strangers was Orin’s worst nightmare come to life. He could barely prevent himself from spewing his light breakfast all over the pies, which would be just about the only way this situation could possibly get any worse.

At least the pies had turned out amazingly well. Orin had made one batch with Sayana’s help yesterday. However, after she’d gone off to dance or wherever she’d gone to, a whole other load of fresh fruits and berries had arrived practically like magic in the kitchen and Orin had furiously worked to whip up another batch of pies. At least there had been left over dough so some of the process had been cut down. But still, Orin had been working pretty much the entire day yesterday and he was exhausted. he would’ve welcomed a day off from his work. But not this insanity. Still, despite his fear Orin couldn’t help but feel a bit proud of himself for getting all that work done and for how well the pies had turned out. They had almost every variety that anyone could ask for, blueberry, strawberry, apple, rhubarb, if a person asked for it Orin could provide it. In fact, at the end of the night in a burst of inspiration Orin had remembered that Nivel had told him that Pycons only ate clay. So Orin had scraped some from the ground outside the tavern and patted it into a decent facsimile of an actual pie. He’d made a few of those and had more clay in a bucket by his foot in case he had to make more in a pinch. Although Orin didn’t have much experience with clay whatever he’d used had been surprisingly malleable. And hopefully Orin had made enough of every kind of pie that The Rearing Stallion wouldn’t run out. Actually, Orin was more worried about what in the world they were going to do with all these leftovers. Perhaps the Welcome Home or the Syliran Order would like a donation of the extras.

Orin pushed the last of the tables in the common room together. He’d done his best to line them up and his arms ached with the exertion. Orin was really made for heavy lifting but he’d been too afraid to ask anyone for help so Orin had suffered in silence. He began putting chairs on the side opposite the kitchen. Once those were placed, Orin started making numerous trips to the kitchen. He lined up a series of pies, then put the remainder on the one table that he’d set aside for his own use. Next, Orin retrieved a few sets of cutlery from the kitchen. Orin had no idea if people were going to use forks and spoons or just dig in with their hands and mouths. Orin had never actually participated in a pie-eating contest himself and if it wasn’t for his position as unofficial head of proceedings he might have been fascinated to watch. However, that wasn’t at all the case. Setting the cutlery on his table to be given out on request, Orin surveyed his efforts. They looked quite stellar. Orin idly wondered if there should be a sign outside before remembering that Ser Kevith himself had hung it. It was crude but effective, essentially saying that The Rearing Stallion was closed for normal business for the day so the pie-eating contest could occur. Of course, Orin realized he’d forgotten to give himself a place to sit. Debating whether or not he should stand the whole time, Orin quickly decided that would be pointless. He went to the kitchen and grabbed the stool Orin often sat on when he was doing a slow and mindless task. It wasn’t actually comfortable, having no cushion or anything like that but it was better than nothing. Planting himself firmly on it, Orin settled in to wait for the first series of people to show.

[Rhov]

Rhov grimaced in frustration as his fingers twitched in a procession of pain. The very attribute which made the Chaktawe such a skillful tracker also served to make large crowds the bane of his existence. However, Rhov would bear the sharp discomfort with a frustrated air about him, for this endeavor into the city was an attempt to make amends. He and his Guardian had fought, and as per usual in their uncanny pairing, Eria was the first to make amends, a dead swallow appearing on the windowsill of his bedroom. This, however, meant that Rhov would have to show his eternal adviser a measure of gratitude by engaging in an activity of her choosing. Of course, the social animal that she was, Eria encouraged Rhov to break his past his barriers and attempt to have some sort of fun in the city. Rhov, while usually stubborn and abrasive towards his Guardian, uncharacteristically yielded to her request. Which was how Rhov ended up in front of the Rearing Stallion, grimacing in pain every time some civilian bustled past him hurriedly.

As he was about to enter the tavern to satiate Eria's hunger for Rhov to integrate into the surrounding community, he paused and observed his attire. He was dressed simply, if immodestly for Syliras. A pair of tanned leather pants covered his lower half, his feet left bare against the city's cool stone. Midnight black paint streaked across his eyes, denoting his loyalty and heritage in the Kalanue Tribe of the Chaktawean people. In normal circumstances, Rhov would have been content to enter any establishment in such a way, most comfortable in his traditional dress. However, as he was attempting to please Eria, and as she had, on multiple occasions, reminded him that shoes and shirts were integral to Sylirain dress, Rhov stepped aside the tavern for a moment. Sighing heavily, he reached into his pack and pulled out the white shirt and brown boots he kept for cold weather. Earning more than a few odd stares from the native city-dwellers around him, Rhov hurriedly dressed himself. Finally in suitable attire, and feeling excessively uncomfortable in his clothes, he entered the inn apprehensively.

I hope your happy Eria, he thought venomously to his Guardian, knowing full-well that she could not hear him from the distance that separated him.

Breathing in deeply, Rhov let the achingly delicious smell of freshly baked goods rap him in pleasure. His eyes lit up with excitement as the sight of a veritable feast of sweets lay before him on row after row of tables. He wondered at their purpose, before remembering briefly observing a sign denoting that the inn would be holding a pie-eating contest today. The sign hadn't immediately registered with him, but he had been slightly distracted with changing into more suitable clothes at the time.

Rhov stood confused before the rows of pies, unsure of how to enter the contest. Picking out a man with angular features, dark black hair, and appearing to be around his own age, Rhov turned to face him.

"How does one enter this contest?" he asked abruptly from across the room, his social graces both underutilized and unpolished.

[Hannovi]

"Shut up" Hannovi spoke to his stomach in his native tongue. His hand upon his belly rubbing it as if to sooth a babe. The constant rumbling of his stomach interrupted him from trying to count out his miza forcing him to start over. He wasn't good at math and counting, but he knew that it would cost a lot to feed his appetite. He looked at the signs of passing places offering different varieties of food whose prices would make a poor fellow like himself have nightmares. "Alright, alright i'll pick something." He shot to his growling stomach that threatened to complain for hours on end. It sounded easier than it seemed, his stomach would have to understand that he was on a budget here. If he were to just spend all of his money on one meal, it would be harder to keep himself full later on down the road. "Excuse me sir, how much for this?" Hannovi asked pointed to some weird looking fruit on the counter. It wasn't that big, but it looked as if it had an abundance of nutrients for him to get full off of. While the man was talking, something else caught his eye. It was a sign, similar to math, he really wasn't that good of a reader either which was also ironic seeing that he knew how to speak two and a half of languages. Great, it was in Common language, like it would make any difference if it were in Arunemic. Yes Arunemic was better for him to understand, but overall he was a terrible reader. "Puh...ehh...ee..Puhyee" he tried to sound it out as best he could struggling through the first word and starting the next. "Eat", he knew that word really well, probably one of the few words he completely understood with no problem. "C...Cohn...Cohntesst. Puhyee eat Cohntesst." He spoke aloud trying to complete the sentence. Well he surely didn't know what a Puhyee was, but he did know that a contest was kinda like a fight to see who was best at something, and the word eat always meant food so that meant that there was a fight to see who could eat the most puhyee. Now the better question would be...what the heck was a puhyee? His stomach rumbled once more stating that it did not care and if it was food then it should be eaten either way. Literally listening to his gut, he entered the tavern amazed at all the golden colored items lined up upon the tables. The scent of the food filled his nostrils pulling him closer and causing his mouth to water. Two other figures caught his attention as he noticed one male talking to another. This must have been the man in charge of this fight of the food. Hannovi didn't want to be rude and interrupt their conversation, nor did he want to take one of the dishes without permission, so he waited with his complaining stomach until he was able to speak. "Excuse me sir?" he chimed when he heard a moment of silence. "How do I go about getting one of those puhyees?" he pointed to the dishes upon the tables. They looked very good, and he would just love to taste a piece even if it were just a crumb. He hoped that they were inexpensive, boy if he were able to purchase a few of those he could make them last a while. This was mostly fueled by curiosity than hunger. He like trying new things. he just so happened to be hungry when this caught his eye, so it was a win-win situation. He looked to the man standing next to him and gave a nod and smile. He wasn't really paying them any mind, he was mainly focused on all the food.

[Orin Fenix]

Orin gulped as the first person of the day arrived. The man was, frankly, intimidating to Orin. He was around Orin’s height, maybe slightly under, but about there was where any advantage Orin might have had in a fight ended. The other man had a wild look about him, his hair braided but still giving the sense of savagery. And there was a band of black paint around the man’s eyes. At first, the paint obscured the man’s other unusual feature but when Orin finally noticed it, the blood drained from Orin’s cheeks. Orin barely kept his mouth from falling open in shock. The man’s eyes were pure black without a hint of white. And it wasn’t just he had large pupils but that his entire eye was pure darkness. Orin barely kept himself from bolting then and there. What saved Orin from making a fool of himself were that the man didn’t do anything overtly threatening. Orin kept reminded himself sternly that this man was a customer first and foremost and even barbarians were allowed to eat at The Rearing Stallion and often had in the past as well. And the customer always comes first. Orin clung to that thought and decided it should probably be his mantra for the day. This probably fell under the new experiences clause of Orin’s new year’s resolution. It was just that Orin usually was in the back and he didn’t have to interact much with the customers. Something when a barmaid was out for illness or injury Orin would be roped into helping out in the common room but on those occasions it was a rare patron at the tavern who paid heed to the serving boy. Now, though Orin felt as if he were the center of attention.

However, Orin had kept the man waiting for long enough. Composing himself as much as he could, well aware that he was serving as The Rearing Stallion’s public face today, Orin responded, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking too much. ”So, ah I guess I should start by well, welcoming you to The Rearing Stallion and maybe thanking you for your service? I’m sorry I’m really quite new to this so I have to confess I’m as baffled as you are. But you give me two golden mizas and then tell me what kind of pie you want to eat, or pies I guess I think it’s two golden mizas for the whole day and even if it’s not I made the bloody pies so I think I should get to make the rules here, don’t you agree? Regardless, we’ve got plenty here and I’m not worried about running out.” Orin coughed and collected himself with a bit more assurance. ”Sorry. I tend to ramble. Two golden mizas and then pick a pie, any pie. Finally, dig in. We’ve got some forks and knives if you want ‘em.” Orin scratched his head completely unsure whether he had missed something. One nagging question was on his mind. This was supposed to be a contest after all, so maybe Orin could introduce some challenge to it. ”And this is just a suggestion, but I think you should either try to eat as many pies as possible or eat a pie as quickly as possible. I mean, not much of a contest otherwise I suppose.”

Orin was about to add that it was a pity there wasn’t anyone else here for the man to compete against when like a prayer from the gods another contestant appeared. And this one was another slightly scary individual although not for the same reasons as the first. The man’s face was pleasant enough, with hazel eyes and dirty blonde hair. However, this man was not only towering over Orin and the first man, he also had the four extra limbs characteristic of an Eypharian. His arms were covered in tattoos and all in all it was a rather striking presence he made. When the new arrival spoke, though, Orin lost all traces of fear. The second man clearly didn’t speak Common fluently and so Orin figured that taking it slow and steady would be the best course of action. ”Welcome to The Rearing Stallion. It’s two golden mizas to participate and once you hand them over you tell me what type of pie you want. After that, I give you your pie and you eat it.” Directing his attention to both men Orin did his best to keep his words coherent. He toned down his usual rapid fire chatter as best he could. ”We have apple, strawberry, blueberry, cherry and rhubarb. All fresh and all delicious.” As Orin spoke, he showed an example of each type of pie, trying not to fumble them around. This was more for the second man although Orin kept it in plain view of both men just in case. Setting the last one aside, Orin eagerly waited for their decisions.

[Rhov]

As he waited intently for the man's response, he could feel the attendant's eyes bore into him with a dedicated curiosity. In the passage of seconds, Rhov saw the man's eyes wander and dance across his form, stopping and investigating some of his racial peculiarities. The Chaktawe withheld and internal sigh as he saw the brief flash of fear flicker in the stranger's eyes, no doubt realizing that he was not, in fact, simply a wild human, but instead a different race entirely. Rhov was used to this kind of treatment, and he realized that many in this city could not control it. In the world most people lived in, an 'us vs. them' mentality no doubt saved many a life from an untimely end. Rhov simply viewed it as unfortunate that racial fear ran so deep in the life-lines of Syliras. He had become used to such glances, the odd look of fear or disgust commonplace whenever he wandered through city streets. He would hold no judgement against the man for fearing the unknown. Eywaat only knows that he did as well.

The man's rambling response would have normally irked the more, well, direct Rhov, but for some reason it only served to entertain the young bounty hunter. Perhaps it was the general atmosphere of the place, or the person himself, but instead of finding the inefficient application of words grating, Rhov found the trait oddly endearing. Beneath the nervous burst of language lie a deeper emotion, pride for his work. These pies were no doubt of his creation, and he laid himself bare to present his work before strangers. It was that quiet kind of courage that Rhov respected, so he was willing to look past a few oddities if the other man was.

A stranger's voice rung out from beside him, the tongue carrying the thick accent of the Eyktol dunes. Though the voice was untrained in common, it would be a rare day that Rhov did not recognize the accent of his home land. Turning excitedly to the source of the voice, Rhov's eyes were met with the uneasy sight of an Ephyrian. His dealings with Ephyrian's in the past had been less than reputable, but it was not like him to judge another by their race's brethren. The second man stood tall, a giant among the men in the inn. His six arm's carried inked markings, twisted and curved things which reminder Rhov of the shifting sands of the Dune Seas. It seemed that today would be very interesting indeed. He would need to thank Eria later for the idea.

Pulling two gold rimmed mizas, he handed them to the apparent organizer of the pie contest. Picking a spot near to the door, he sat down with a solid thump, before motioning the Ephyrian over to sit across from him.

"I am Rhov, and it is nice to finally meet another son of the sand," he said evenly, not wanting to scare off so rare an occurrence with his usual abrasive manner. Rhov eyed the pastry before him with an almost cautious gaze, tempted to dive straight into the meal, but not wishing to spoil the experience. Tuning, he faced the Ephyrian once more. "Perhaps we should savor the first, before battling for the rest?"

Raising a fork to begin eating, Rhov paused for a moment. Mulling over the decision in his head, he decided that if he was going to be uncomfortably social today, he may as well commit. Besides, he might find a friend or two among the unexpected patrons of the Rearing Stallion.

Turning to face the event's organizer, Rhov spoke with a demanding and dogged tone. "Come, sit with us. You made these sweets, yes? Then you should enjoy the first one." Rhov attempted to placate any remaining fear with a non-threatening smile, but felt as though the gesture came off more as wolfish than sheepish.

[Hannovi]

So for two gold miza he could eat how ever many pies he wanted? This seemed like a good deal. Hannovi listened as the man spoke while showing and naming the different types of pies that he had laid out. "Apple." Hannovi repeated, knowing the fruit to be sweet and juicy. The other names he did not know, but would love to try. The fact that this man had made all of these delicate creations amazed Hannovi. He wanted to complement the man but didn't know the proper Common word to address him. Chef? He thought the word was, but did not want to use it and end up insulting the man. "You are a good pie cooker." Hannovi spoke satisfied with what he had said. Getting a look at them man from in between his hair, he did look the part. He was short, clean, and smelled pretty good, just like everyone else that resided in this city for long periods of time. His hair was short, tidy, and black. The look of a honest gent. He wasn't used to being around these kind of people. It took all of his will power to stop him from hugging the wall and watching the door an unexpected person to walk in and rob him. He knew that it would not happen, but it was what he was used too. Following suit of the man before him, Hannovi fetched two gold rimmed miza from his pouch, placing them into the cook's hands before retrieving the pie that was said to be apple. Hannovi stood in front of the man for a few ticks to be sure that he had done nothing wrong. He had given the man the miza, so he should be able to continue right? Giving a nod and smile before turning to take a seat, he couldn't wait to fill his belly with the new found food. "I am Rhov, and it is nice to finally meet another son of the sand," The other patron spoke whilst gesturing for him to sit across from him. Now this was the kind of people that Hannovi was used to being around. His eyes black, his face hard with a streak of paint traveling across, and though he seemed to be nice, Hannovi could just tell that this man had experienced some things.There were two kinds of people in this world, and by the looks of things, the cook was out numbered two to one. "Hannovi" he spoke, sending out one of his hands to properly greet the man. Son of the sand? What was this place that he spoke of. "I was born in Sunberth, but I don't know much about where my people come from. Can you tell me more about this land of sand?" Hannovi asked curiosity now peaked. It had occurred to him that he had not seen anyone of his kind other than his parents, and now knowing of a place sprawling of others like him was something worth listening to. "Yes come sit with us." Hannovi pulled a chair for the man to sit. He was all ears now, awaiting for Rhov to speak of this place. This was a relaxing time for him. He had pie, good company, and was going to learn something about his heritage. He ran his fingers through his hair and behind his ears so he could hear clearly. He also awaited for the cook to start eating so he could see how he should properly eat such a dish. This was going to be the start of his training. To be proper and correct. It wasn't what he expected, but anything was better than nothing. Adjusting his posture and folding his hands in his lap atop of each other, he turned to Rhov anxious to hear him speak.

[Rhov]

The Ephyrian's response surprised. How such a one as he ended up born in Sunberth of all places confused him. To trade the towering visages of Ahnatep for the reported squalor and filth of Sunberth? The decision that drove his parents to seek refuge in such a place must have been a heavy one. Rhov's disappointment at this discovery was almost palpable. He was so excited to finally meet another that knew of the savage wonder that the deserts of Eykotol provided, only to have reality remind him that people of all races come from all corners of this world.

"I am...sorry. I had thought you where from Ahnatep, your people's homeland. My mistake." Rhov replied apologetically, unused to the action of seeking forgiveness. Normally, he would just accept his failure and move on, but due to Eria's intervention this morning, Rhov was stretching his definition of normal social behavior. However, his previous disappointment rapidly shifted to delight as the Ephyrian, Hannovi if he recalled correctly, asked him to describe Eyktol.

"Eyktol, the land I hail from, is one of untamed beauty," Rhov began, solid black eyes lighting up with joy as he recalled his homeland. "I was born in the deserts of the Eykotl to the Kalanue Tribe of the Chaktawe. Seas of sand stretched for miles in all directions, interrupted only occasionally by the rogue city or oasis. Here in Syliras, water is as common as people. Your land overflows with the stuff, almost bursting with the precious liquid. But back home? Water is worth more than Mizas. People fight and die for wells, and many a Chaktawean child has been scared by the horror stories of hunters killing our people for our water." He paused for a moment, pie all but forgotten in his excitement. Rhov had always envied storytellers, for their ability to mystify and amaze with the history of the world. If he had been allowed to, Rhov imagined he would have pursued a career in the weaving of tales, passing down history and fiction alike to generation after generation.

"Forgive me, I am unused to telling stories. In my culture, that duty is reserved for the Abayla, so many of my kind are inexperienced in the art." His voice continued after a moment's rest, the rough baritone enveloping the near quiet inn."I have told you of some of the dangers, now let me tell you of its wonders. There is no sight comparable to a desert night. Stars light the sky in an near white procession of luminescence, their brilliance in stark contrast to the bronzed lands of the Dune Sea. Red-orange mesas tower high above the ground, and sanctuary can be found in many a cliff-side cave. My homeland, our homeland, is harsh, filled with a harsh people, but dotted with small spectacles of brilliance. Perhaps you will see it for yourself one day, hmm?"

The room fell silent after Rhov had finished his brief but passionate description of the land he missed so much. Thinking of home was a bittersweet activity, ushering forth both feelings of nostalgia and melancholy. As much as the forested lands of Syliras amazed him with its proud trees and rushing rivers, he often found his yearning for home overwhelming. Sighing silently, Rhov fought off his homesickness with determined shake of his head. It was not his place to question Brother-Crow's choice of path, he only wished that he had chosen a place not miles from his home. Though Rhov had heard tales of verdant jungles covered with emerald leaves and sweeping plains covered with a strange type of fluffy water called 'snow', the Chaktawe doubted that any land could be more foreign than Syliras.

All traces of sadness now thoroughly scourged from his mind, Rhov turned his attention to the pie which lay before him. Taking a tentative stab with his fork, the desert son removed a hefty chunk of pie from its source.

Apple, he called it.

Shrugging with casual indifference, Rhov opened his mouth wide to accommodate the warm pastry, figuring it could be no worse than the strange foods he had tried as a youth. Onyx eyes shot wide with surprise as a mixture of sweet and warm flavor's flooded his palate. The food's sugary flavor darted at his tasted buds, almost overwhelming the unprepared Rhov. The bounty hunter had taken punches and stab wounds which had surprised him less than this pie. After a few moments of savoring the delectable treat which Orin had prepared, Rhov dug into the sweet with reckless abandon; fork shoveling food into his mouth at almost inhuman speed. It wasn't until he had finished the dish that he realized the slightly unsettled looks he received from his table-mates.

"It's good pie," Rhov offered, mouth not completely clear of the chewed remains of his apple pie. "So, Hannovi, tell me of Sunberth. You're birthplace cannot be stranger than Syliras."

[Orin Fenix]

OOCSorry it's a bit short and I took a while to reply. Also I know I didn't give you much. You two seem to have a lot to discuss and I'm trying to make this thread more for other people. So feel free to continue without me I'll be in and out.

Everyone was acting so pleasantly. Orin imagined he could almost see people checking their words before speaking. It was funny seeing these two strangers both of whom Orin would have pegged as warriors if the muscles they had and the weapons they sported were any indication trying to follow the rules of polite etiquette. They lacked polish but they were heartfelt and Orin took it upon himself to try and make them feel as welcome as possible. After all, Orin knew a little bit about lacking social finesse and being uncomfortable while talking to others. And Orin always personally had benefited from a few kind souls who had gone out of their way to coax Orin out of his shell. And now while speaking in public still terrified him, it was an old familiar feeling, one threadbare and patched like a child’s favorite blanket. Orin shouldered aside his emotions and gave the two men his most winning smile. ”Well I thankee kindly for inviting me sir, well, both of you invited me so I’ll thank you both. While I would love to join you unfortunately I can’t.” Lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Orin leaned forward. ”My boss would kill me, metaphorically speaking, and she, or he, I have two bosses, it’s complicated, could walk in here any moment. Besides, I already ate one and I think it’d be awful greedy of me to have another before others got the chance to taste them. And I appreciate the compliments but I really didn’t do much. Most of the credit should go to the oven.” Orin winked at them, hoping to elicit a chuckle or a laugh. He wasn’t very good at making jokes yet but at least he was trying and sometimes they were even funny.

There was one last part to mention, so Orin straightened up, never losing the smile. Besides, I have to man the station in case anyone else comes walking through that door. Oh, and here are your pies.” Sliding two apple pies along with utensils down to Rhov and Hannovi, Orin hesitated, then scooted his stool down the long table to be closer to them. At the very least he could listen to their conversation in a companionable way. However, his little speech took all the words out of him for now and he would have to recharge a bit before making any more small talk. However, Orin didn’t feel he needed to as Rhov and Hannovi seemed to have a lot to discuss. Orin eavesdropped shamelessly, fascinated by the places the two discussed. Sunberth Orin had vaguely heard of but he knew nothing about it other than that many Sylirans didn’t want to go there for some reason. Orin had never been told why that was so though, so maybe today he would find out.

Eyktol was a complete mystery to Orin. He assumed that Rhov was a Chaktawe, although what the Kalune Tribe was exactly Orin didn’t want to hazard a guess. It sounded like a harsh and dangerous land especially if water was as scarce as Rhov descibed it was. Orin didn’t know why he was apologizing. Even if he wasn’t an Abayla, another foreign term, Rhov told stories well enough. Syliras must seem like paradise to him with the constant supply of water. Sometimes we even get too much for our own good, Orin thought wryly. The recent floods were a testament to that. Still compared to Eyktol, Orin would rather live in Syliras even if it got too wet for Orin’s taste. That was better than not having water at all. Still, the savage beauty that Rhov’s words evoked sparked something deep in Orin. Orin had been feeling the urge to travel for a while now but had been too timid to do anything beyond dream. But if two people from wildly different cultures and places and even races could sit in his tavern and eat a pie together there was nothing stopping Orin from leaving the confines of Stormhold and striking out whatever waited for him out there. And if the people in Eyktol and Sunberth took as much satisfaction from Orin’s pies as Rhov did then Orin felt he would be assured a living. As long as they actually ate pies and had the resources to make them. Still Orin didn’t think that a skilled chef would be turned down anywhere.

[Sayana]

Orin Skills: Skill EXP Bodybuilding +1 Hosting +3 Organization +1 Leadership +3 Rhetoric +2 Observation +1 Lores: Pycons: Eat clay Organizing a contest Rhetoric: Speaking to the public one on one Chaktawe: Black eyes Event: Pie eating contest at the Rearing Stallion Hannovi: Eypharian from Sunberth Rhov: Chaktawe from Eyktol Eyktol: Savage beauty of the desert Comments : Nice thread. I like seeing Orin slowly overcome his fear of socializing with strangers and taking an active role. Rhov Skills: Skill EXP Endurance +1 Observation +2 Socialization +3 Storytelling +1 Rhetoric +1 Interrogation +1 Lores: Syliras: Shoes and shirts are generally required Event: Pie eating contest at the Rearing Stallion Hannovi: Eypharian from Sunberth The dangers and wonders of the Eyktol landscape Taste of apple pie Comments : Nice thread even though it got cut short. I personally loved your descriptions of Eyktol. Glad you can share it through storytelling even if you can’t flashback there. Thanks for updating your ledger with the cost of the pie contest. Hannovi Skills: Skill EXP Observation +2 Mathematics +1 Socialization +2 Interrogation +1 Lores: Event: Pie eating contest at the Rearing Stallion Rhov: Chaktawe from Eyktol Ledger : Please deduct 2 gm from your ledger for the pie eating contest. Comments : Nice thread even though it got cut short. Don't forget to edit/delete your grade request in the grade request thread. However, make sure to keep the link so that the DS can review graded threads with ease. If you have any questions or concerns about your grade please feel free to send me a message (like really, I’m all ears if you feel like I missed something). Enjoy.