Atharen, A Fantasy Roleplay Forum

Posted: **Sat Jan 22, 2022 2:13 am**

Frost 47th, Year 4621

With a harrowing yell, Latham's voice broke open the boundaries between time and space, fracturing apart Atharen's frame to build a doorway from one end to another. It was Resonance in its purest form, creating a perfect pitch of oscillations that slammed against the edges of reality. When the two men came out on the other side, landing in the Venger estate courtyard with Thomas' wagon and horses, one was in much worse wear than the other. Latham seemed fine: vibrant, healthy and even moderately warm, while the man beside him quivered even despite all of his lover's attempts to keep him heated. His own heat, a strong flame, none had quite been enough. A part of it, he was certain, was some sort of mental boundary; he was resisting his attempts to make him alright. Carrot and Horse appreciated the sun-like, molten globe that warmed them, but Thomas often stayed in the wagon away from the chilling winds that terrified him so.

The journey had been good at times, even very good; they'd shared warmth, slept in one another's frames, told stories and laughed and loved. Latham had probably told Thomas that he loved him at least a few dozen more times, and Thomas reciprocated none, but that was alright. The man felt it from him all the same. They pleased each other better than he remembered being possible, though he refrained from indulging too much for fear of harming the other man.

It was only when Thomas started to become seemingly ill that he'd managed to convinced him that they should simply take a portal, and only after a long interrogation about how it worked and what the harms could possibly be. He suspected that the dire state of their horses -- not from hunger or cold but from fatigue -- had also encouraged him to accede, but he was too grateful for Thomas' concession to bother to discover its origins. When he finally accepted, one of Latham's Hollows set down the long metal instrument that acted as a stand for his Shard Resonator, and he got to work. Minutes later, away from the biting winds, they were greeted by the back exterior of Wendell and Latham's estate, a large, darkly colored building flanked by others of its kind. It was an early industrial manor, with lamps lighting each of its windows, illuminating warmly colored satin curtains within.

Around them was a walled enclave of cobble and the occasional plant, with benches, seats and tables for outdoor reading and 'dates' with dear friends and colleagues. "Remember -- I told Wendell I'm going out to seek you, and he knows about who you are, but... just be wary that he might not be the most congenial," he warned, rubbing Thomas' shoulder and kissing his hair. The man tipped his head, muttering something beneath his breath, and a Hollow quickly thereafter reached into a satchel along its waist and gripped a key, approaching the door before twisting it open. Their eyes would immediately be met by a well-lit interior, with the distant sound of a phonograph playing piano. Latham rubbed along Thomas' upper arm nervously, before stepping up the short walkway to guide him inside. When he was certain that the man was enamored enough by all of the fine furniture and the brightly lit colors, he turned around to generate a burst of flame, lighting the logs at the center of the courtyard to produce a bonfire. He didn't want the horses to freeze, after all; Latham would be sure to provide them better standards than they would've gotten on the road, or tucked away in frigid alley-ways. They were his beasts too, now, or so he felt obligated to believe. Garret certainly was.

A cat greeted Thomas first, perching at the edge of the stairwell and arching its back upwards. The grey-colored feline hissed, causing Latham to turn back and sigh.

"That's Morrigan, Wendell's sodding cat," he said, quietly. "She doesn't like me -- or anyone, really. The hiss might be directed to either one of us, as far as I'm concerned."

Ushering the other inside, Latham closed the door behind them, leaving the Hollows out in the courtyard. Once they were within, he eyed around to see where Wendell might be, but was given no indication. The servants weren't around, either; it was mid-evening, but that was usually when they were most active.

"They're probably out with Wendell, buying things," he said to himself. "Well -- this is it: the Ashvane Estate. A historic home, here in Retzen. Wendell cherishes it more than a man should cherish his children. So -- to be blunt, do not make a mess of it, or it'll be on both of our heads."

Posted: **Sat Jan 22, 2022 3:41 am**

The portal was both better and worse than Thomas expected. His head was already pounding, and he couldn't stop shivering before Latham set about creating it. He had underestimated how cold it was on the roads between Westfalen and Retzen, and how long it would take. By day two, he was worried about Carrot and Horse, who were being brave and dolorously stoic about the weather respectfully, but he didn't want them to end up sick. By the third day, he felt cold all the time, like he couldn't warm up no matter what he did. Latham had some kind of ability to keep the horses warm, at least, and it worked on Thomas' skin, but some core part of him just felt chilled, constantly. Maybe it was just the dread of how wintry it was out here, at how quickly he and the horses would sicken and die if Latham simply decided to walk off in any other direction with his Hollows.

Not that the man would do that, of course, but the fact that he could and Thomas would be left alone in the cold, the flush of life draining from him as he tried in vain to stay warm, was terrifying. It got worse almost hour by hour, until at last, he all but begged Latham to reassure him that portals weren't the terrifying unnatural doors that occasionally ripped people apart that his Grisithian education had told him they were. After his concerns had been addressed, Latham and one of his horrifying automatons got the portal set up and he and the horses drove on through.

It felt like nothing, at first; just a door like any other. Then, he lurched forward, like a leap that turned into a tumble down a flight of stairs, only much further and faster than he'd be able to do himself. Just as he was about to vomit, it stopped as abruptly as it started, and he was simply elsewhere. He did a quick check to ensure his body was more or less as he'd left it, but he seemed to have the same number of limbs, and his head wasn't on backward, so it had gone better than expected. More importantly, while it was chilly at the gates to Latham's estate, it was heaps better than being stuck in the forsaken tundra that made up the land between the cities.

He knew his lover was married, and given all the warnings about his husband, Thomas wasn't exactly looking forward to their inevitable meeting, but he figured it was inevitable. Not the first time, or even the fifth or tenth or twentieth time, he'd had a married lover warn him about their spouse. Came with the territory of being a vagabond and a harlot, something he brought up continually to Latham to watch his lover flush at his strong choice of words upon their reunion.

"You have a lovely home," was all Thomas said as he felt the color start to return to his face. It was better and more hospitable inside. It was nice to see plants again, too. It had been some time since he'd had a chance to harvest any. What flora there were were in locations too damnably cold to really stop for much in the way of gathering. Thomas assumed they likely had good properties, but it would have to wait until he was more inured to the cold, or at least until he had a better coat.

"Do you think we could have some, I don't know -- hot mulled wine, perhaps? Anything warm. And do you have, I don't know -- people who will take of the horses, or shall I go out and see to them?" All he wanted to do take a hot bath, warm up, and maybe take a nap, but Carrot and Horse had put up with a lot in the last few days, and he wanted to make sure they were okay.

Posted: **Sat Jan 22, 2022 2:35 pm**

"Hot mulled wine..." the man pondered, scratching his stubble a moment. He barely knew how to function on his own, these days; moving from the position of 'self-sufficient traveler' to 'Noble Lord' had been quite the downgrade in terms of his self-reliance. Most of what was in the kitchen and pantry was known only to Wendell and the houseservant, who cooked for them, prepared their drinks and so on. He did recall Wendell drinking something like that, though, so they must've had it somewhere. "If I recall, there are... spices in that?" he clarified. "Should be the components in the pantry somewhere; there's also a cellar beneath the home with wine of all assortments."

There was a locked room down there with all of Wendell's most treasured, and most expensive wines, but he wouldn't mention that. If he recalled, things had a tendency to go missing when they were last together, even valueless things. He'd no clue whether Thomas had been responsible, but he had suspicions that grew as the years went on.

"As for the horses... well -- the servants should arrive with Wendell, soon enough; the night market closes in an hour or so, and we're only a few blocks down from there. Once they get here, I can have Claudia take the horses to a proper stable, where they'll be more insulated. For now, though, the bonfire should keep them reasonably warm, love; don't fret too much." Latham's fire was strong, and he could manipulate its temperature as needed. The heat emanating from the pit outside would be far more than enough, though he supposed his ever magic-opposing lover wouldn't trust relying on it. He would, simply, need to get used to it; magic was a part of Latham's life, affecting every detail. He was made of it, after all.

"I'll take you to the cellar and pantry, and we can make that drink of yours," Latham said, nodding. Taking Thomas' hand, he started guiding him through the rooms, beginning with the back-common room they started in, then through the study, sitting lounge and eventually the pantry and dining hall. Rummaging around in search of the proper spices, he spoke up. "Maybe you should rest upstairs; I can bring the wine to you. My room is to the right of the, ah... painting of Wendell's father, between that one and the landscape painting. You can have a drink to relax, then we can lay down together until Wendell gets here. He'll be irritated if I hide in there with you until morning, so I figure we might as well get it out of the way."

Grabbing a brown paper bag marked with letters, the man grinned. "Found it," he declared, triumphantly. "Go and rest. I'll not be long."

Posted: **Sat Jan 22, 2022 6:38 pm**

It wasn't Thomas' first time in a manor, of course, not even in this circumstance of a generous lover showing him around. It was the first time he had any intention to stay, however. It opened himself to odd, unbidden thoughts. Normally, he was mostly concerned with points of egress and small items that looked valuable. This time, he looked around the rooms and he found himself thinking about how nice it would be take tea at that table, or to curl up in the big chair by the fire, perhaps with one of the less intimidating books from what he assumed was Wendall's collection. Maybe even how nice it would be to just be near Latham, to sit with him in silence and bask in the quiet. Thomas' world was noisy, chaotic, and required a certain mental focus; in here, he felt he could let his guard down. He wouldn't, of course, or not all the way, but having a bit of a holiday from all that time sounded nice.

Latham actually insisted on making him the wine, even though it was clear that the intervening time between when they'd last lived together had decreased his ability to be domestic. For a minute, he thought about teasing him about it, but the idea of rest sounded quite nice. The trip, the one he'd insisted on, had been a bad idea. While he was reluctant to admit it, Latham had been correct that using a portal would have been smarter. Maybe, from now on, he could make an exception for portals made by Latham, or for portals when the only alternative was near-certain death in Lorien's brutal cold.

"I appreciate that, Latham. I'll find my way to your chambers."

Interesting that they had separate bedrooms. It sounded like Latham had been on the level when he'd said that he and Wendall were not all that close. That was a bit of a relief. It was so tedious to wake up to a marital squabble about who the strange man in the bedroom was. Thomas didn't mind dishonesty, per se, but for some of his former paramours honesty would have been preferable to idealism. As Thomas ascended the stairs, he spent a bit of time studying Wendall's father. He was all but positive that some sort of scandal was attached to the man's name, but it seemed like old news. It was the kind of thing the entirety of the Rien set already knew, so they had no interest in dishing about it, because it wasn't current. Handsome enough man, though. Hopefully, those genetics -- no doubt necromantically enhanced -- had passed on to his son, but even if they hadn't, he didn't mind the prospect of smoothing things over with Latham's husband in whatever way made the most sense.

He stripped down to nothing, grateful to be out of his clothes and into clean linens, pleased to find them to be actual linens spun with some degree of sophistication. After so many months spent on homespun or worse, soft sheets were a pleasant distraction. Latham's room reminded him a bit of his apartment from back then: martial, a bit spartan, and utilitarian. At the same time, though, the room had either come pre-furnished with some luxurious touches or Latham himself was developing a taste for it: a soft cream rug by the fireplace, an Argent-sized dark leather armchair by the fireplace that fetch quite a sum if there was a way to get it to a re-seller, and a small collection of weaponry upon the walls that Thomas felt somewhat sure was ceremonial indicated a man who was coming into himself, a bit. He wondered if Latham would have a whole room of swords, axes, and stands of armor in their house someday, before scolding himself for wondering about something like that.

This probably would not last. Latham would get to know him, and get irritated with him, or tire of him. He admonished himself to enjoy it while it lasted, though. He got into the bed, which was chilly but not nearly so cold as his wagon had been, and sat upright so he wouldn't fall asleep, except the bed was so soft, and there were so many pillows, and he was just so tired. He ended up passed out half-in, half-out of the bed, as he couldn't quite decide if he wanted to leave the waking world.

Posted: **Sat Jan 22, 2022 7:28 pm**

"Lathaaam."

A woman's voice echoed out from the Resonator, muddled by that very particular graininess that he was used to. Unlike normally, though, it was not Eloise's voice on the other end, it was another woman's - a Thespian, like him.

"Miranda?" he asked. He was leaned over one of the counters, mixing wine with mulling spices, simultaneously heating the brew with a tap of his fingers against the cup. The woman confirmed with a hum.

"I've been trying to get in contact with you for almost a week, now -- where in Venadak's fiery arsehole have you been?"

"Hey -- don't talk about my Dad like that," he replied, teasing, a wide grin setting in. "I've been... ah, reconnecting. Remember around the time we first met, when I was being recruited as Eloise's understudy, my..."

"Your lover?" she interjected.

The man blinked; somehow, Miranda always had a way of knowing these things. She was a master of context clues, he supposed. "Yes -- Lord Ashley Ryan, or so I believed."

"Ah, yes, I'd heard you were looking around for him. Had Finnegan do the rounds, ask people, got you into contact with some chaps from Grisith. Charmed. So -- you found him, you sodded the pain away, you...?"

"We're together, again," he said, swirling around the glass for a moment until he was satisfied. He felt he'd done a fine enough job; it wasn't a particularly complex task, anyhow. "He was no Lord Ryan at all, but rather one... well, I shan't tell you his name; not sure if he's in the mood to continue reinventing himself, and we'll wait to find out. So -- what did you want to speak to me about?" he asked.

"Well, Regis and I have been thinking -- Eloise and that old lout, Duke Galbrecht, have been considering building another Aether Cannon, but we--"

The door opened, and chattering echoed through the foyer. Wendell's voice, Claudia's, Harald's.

"Oh, Gods. Miranda, I need to go."

"Latham, are you bloody serious? I've been--"

"Sorry, not now. Just give me until tomorrow, alright?"

He tapped the brass receiver, and the blue crystal within faded, the woman's voice dulling mid-word before fading out. Within seconds, Wendell made his way into the kitchen as if directly seeking the man out, Latham's eyes darting upwards to meet his. "Hey, handsome man," he greeted.

"Is he here?" he asked. Wendell was dressed in a typical gentleman's finery, grey and brown colored outerwear, a scarf and a bowler cap that he quickly removed, laying onto the counter near where Latham made Thomas' wine.

"Yes," he quietly replied.

"Good. I'll go to meet him; come along with me."

The man grit his teeth -- Wendell hadn't even properly delegated the placement of whatever he'd purchased, and hadn't given Latham a chance to talk it out with him. He was dead-set on making his husband uncomfortable, and perhaps their new... guest, or whatever he was. "...Very well," the Lord quietly replied, making sure to step in front of the other man so that he would be the first to meet the door to his room. That was, of course, until Wendell made sure to pass him as they approached the stairwell, before climbing the steps in a stride and stepping before the burgundy-colored door in the hallway. He loomed at the door for a moment, turning to eye Latham almost contemptuously, before gripping the knob and twisting it.

Stepping inside, he eyed the sleeping form of the man, largely obscured by Latham's fine sheets; his fine sheets.

"Ash, is it?" With no regard for his unconscious state, Wendell stepped inside and presented himself, as well as an extended hand to shake once he neared the side of the bed. "I'm Wendell -- Wendell Kastrige Venger von Retzen, Lord of this estate. You are my husband's paramour, yes? Pleased to meet you."

Paramour. Quietly, Latham scoffed from behind him as he stepped deeper into the room, eyeing back-and-forth between the two men. "Wendell, do you really need to call him my 'paramour'? You make it sound so..."

"Calm, Latham," he turned, smiling brightly; fakely. "It is merely a descriptive term. Ash takes no offense, I'm sure. Not every man is as sensitive as you are, Lay."

Posted: **Sat Jan 22, 2022 8:18 pm**

Thomas woke up as himself before grabbing the persona of Lord Ashley Ryan and slipping into him like a second skin. He affected a long, languid stretch. Embarrassment was for people of more humble station. As fellow aristocrats, they could see eye to eye and trade barbs in a civilized, gentlemanly fashion. If Wendall had wanted to be friendly and seethe in secret, he would have done so. He wished to make it known to Latham and to Thomas, then, that he was displeased, while being outwardly polite. Which at least meant this wouldn't end with some kind of absurd dueling situation; he was not dressed for a hasty retreat, and as he'd found out recently, it was rather hard to get around much of Lorien in a wagon.

He had to ensure a neutral ending to this conversation; perhaps they would not be embracing one another anytime soon, but by that same token having Wendall as an enemy would be dangerous and potentially deadly. This man would not respect obsequiousness; he would view it as weakness and an admission that Thomas should seek to bow and scrape whenever they shared a room together. By that same token, taking umbrage would just make him look naive and ill-humored. No, the best solution was to present himself as a worthy equal, acknowledge Wendall's insincerity with some of his own, and pretend that there was nothing at all absurd about returning home from the shops to find a surprise house guest in the bedchamber of one's husband.

He got out of the bed, entirely nude but with the bearing of a man wearing a suit made of a material slightly finer than Wendall's, and a generous smile with a bit of compassion. It said, 'Such a pleasure to meet you, you poor, poor man.' He took Wendall's hand in his own and shook it with the alacrity of someone who can afford to do nothing but think about optimal grip strength. As he did, he sized Wendall up. Impeccable posture, and clearly no stranger to the sort of elaborate verbal games of lies and intrigue that were a Celebrant's means of evaluating others, passing the time, and starting feuds.Well-made clothes and a talented valet; Thomas found nothing to fault there. He was also damnably handsome. If he weren't being such a prick, Thomas would have just invited him into bed then and there, but he knew that wouldn't do.

"Such a pleasure to meet the man to whom Latham is legally bound. I do apologize for the nap; most indecorous of me to sleep before being presented to you, but if you think back to when passions were a bit more heated between you and Latham, you may remember that the attentions of your esteemed husband can be a bit draining. I thought to take the opportunity to rest while I still could, as I expect the coming days will have me quite occupied. Perhaps we could dine together tomorrow, and I could present a hosting gift to you in return for your kind decision to allow my dropping in like this?" He smiled brightly, looking up at Wendall with the ease of a man who often found himself shorter than his companions. Nothing about you is interesting. Nothing about you intimidates me.

Posted: **Sun Jan 23, 2022 12:10 am**

The Lord narrowed his eyes, looking Thomas up-and-down as he crawled out from beneath the blankets, presenting himself to him with all the audacity he had expected. "Cultural difference?" he seemed to quietly ask Latham, nevertheless taking in his physique. It was clear that he was not displeased to see what he did, though some degree of confused envy bloomed. He thought himself to be more attractive than Thomas -- he was taller, in better shape by what he thought were Latham's standards, and less marred by imperfections, not that he could spot all too many on the other. He supposed attitude must have gone a long way.

When Thomas began reciprocating his poison, the Celebrant appeared unphased. Latham was far moreso; his brows tightened to the creases of his eyes, his lips parted slightly and he blinked. Legally bound...

He even appeared to ridicule the stale nature of their marriage, though it wasn't quite as stale as he might have thought.

"Funny; the heat remains a boil. Perhaps I simply have more stamina." He had to admit, self-comparison or not, Thomas was very well up there in the caste of attractive men, and he liked his quips. Somewhere within his own muddled storm of a frame of mind, he thought much the same; Latham's bed had enough room for three, and his enough for Thomas. Perhaps this could serve as a reagent to keep the heat from dropping to a simmer, if he played his cards right. A part of that was not antagonizing Latham and his relationship, lest he make himself out to be the villainous outsider.

"I would be pleased to dine with you," he added, nodding before loosing his grip, and allowing the man's hand some freedom. "If my husband is so enamored with you as to add you to this household of ours, you must learn your function. I have no opposition to earthly pleasures and their attainment, but often the providers of these pleasures over-estimate their value, and act far too rashly for their station. Remember that we are the Lords here, and you are the 'lover'. A valuable role, though not an essential one for this operation. If--"

"Wendell," Latham interjected. "If Thomas would be quite -- ah, alright with it, perhaps after our dinner tomorrow eve you might join us in our evening recreation? I'd prefer that my beloved and my husband share in their sense of importance in my life, and carry forward some degree of... comradery." It was a blunt offer, though judging by the sudden raise of Wendell's brows, not an unappealing one.

"Fine," he replied, flatly. "Well; Harald, Claudia and I must make arrangements. We've purchased some household items, toiletries and such for... Thomas, and I'll need to get all of that sorted. Very well to meet you, 'Thomas'. That will be all."

With that, he departed from the room, Latham gripping his hand before he left the doorway, leaning in to discuss something with him very briefly, and kissing his forehead before he departed down the stairwell. Once he did, the large man closed the door, moving to sit by Thomas on the bed.

"He means well, he just... doesn't want to be replaced. I was at least going to him for sex before you came; our marriage was... somewhat hollow, but I suppose... satisfactory in some base way. He's threatened by what might change," the man concluded, nodding. "He's also afraid I might want to marry a man I actually love," Latham added. "I don't blame him for that fear; it is founded. Feels strange calling Wendell my 'husband' sometimes. I'm... not sure I want that for the rest of my life. It's not what I envisioned for myself, you know?"

Taking Thomas' hand, the man lifted it to his lips, planting a kiss upon his wrist.

"Why don't you rest some more, and I'll join you? I'm exhausted, myself, and sleeping in a proper bed with you for once sounds magical." He leaned in and wrapped his arm across Thomas' side, nuzzling into his hair. "Good job putting Wendell in his place, by the way. You'd be an excellent Lord, after all."

Posted: **Sun Jan 23, 2022 12:41 am**

Despite himself, Thomas saw red. The nerve of that man. It had been a long time since someone goaded him into feeling anything other than amusement at their attempt, but this man knew where to prod. The fact of the matter was, despite himself, part of him was jealous. He'd had scarcely any time at all with Latham. Wendall had been linked to him for more than a year, and Thomas felt dizzy at the prospect of that amount of time with his lover, overwhelmed by the thought of even twelve months, let alone the concept of forever, something Latham referenced multiple times per day. It made his breath quicken and his heart sing. It also made him feel like the walls were closing in around him.

In any case, he was glad Wendall was gone. He'd have to find a suitable present from among the numerous pieces of jewelry stashed in his wagon for emergencies, pawn shops, and occasions like this for the next morning. Something that said "I'm not sorry for fucking your husband, and also you're an arrogant prick, but I'll gladly fuck you if you'll stop being so sour about the bad hand you've been dealt."

He also realized that Latham had been talking just now, potentially for quite some time, and that he hadn't been paying the slightest bit of attention, because the Argent Knight was looking at him, worry writ onto his features. "Thomas? Please don't let Wendell concern you -- he'll adjust."

Rather than get into a messy discussion of emotions, he opted for humor. "I was just wondering if the bean pole he has inside him to keep him from falling apart after taking your cock need be quite so uncomfortable for him? Maybe if he had fewer splinters in his rectum, he'd be in a better mood. In any case, I gladly accept whatever it was you suggested, unless it was something unpleasant, or that involves further conversation with Wendell at this time, in which case I suggest we do the opposite."

Posted: **Sun Jan 23, 2022 1:55 am**

The man met Thomas' stare somewhat expressionlessly, making it clear enough that he didn't particularly enjoy his 'humor' given the circumstances. Still, he did not blame him, either; he was upset, and he had every right to be. Latham wrapped his arms around the man, then, pulling him into his chest as it rose and fell, his breath echoing in the way it moved the other man. "I just offered that we rest together; leave all of those... unnecessary words, and thoughts, behind."

He could only admit to himself that he was as tense as the other. He did not want a feud between his husband and his lover -- that was far from the perfect world he envisioned. If things did not work between them, what was the Lord's option? To divorce Wendell and find a new, much smaller home as back-up? He had enough funds for a reasonably-sized estate, but that would deprive him of any further allowance; they would struggle, for some time. It was not what he wanted.

Aside from that, Wendell was useful to him. Their arrangement was beneficial to a degree in which it would be challenging to just let it end. He was comfortable with this life, in this home, with these circumstances. They needn't change.

Nevertheless, he removed his attire, article by article, and climbed into bed. Laying one arm over his lover, he brought his back into his chest, serving to be the larger spoon of the two as he often did. One thing that was nice about Thomas being so much smaller than him was that he could breathe freely, his face elevated so far above his own. And, he liked that his frame was large enough to serve as a reliable cushion for him.

As always, before he dimmed the light with his Divinity, he whispered a solid few 'I love yous' to the other man, before slowly drifting. He had a very vivid dream, that night; he was at the beginning of a long corridor, nothing but doors and upturned paintings around him. He was sure that some beast was stalking the halls, but somehow he paid it no mind. Each room had a memory; things that had transpired, things that had not, yet were equally as lucid. Thomas was behind only a few of those doors, many more were... existential. At one point he opened the blue-colored doorway, only to step into the throes of Bel, the ashen winds of the Infernal Plane buffeting him with debris. He could barely breathe.

Perhaps a reminder, to him; he had a destiny more important than squabbles. He hoped Thomas would be a part of it, but he could not lose sight of it. Not for anything.

Posted: **Tue Jan 25, 2022 8:57 pm**

☠ The Longest Journey ☠

☠ Points awarded:

8 - for both parties {No Magic}

☠ Lores:

Thomas:
Acting: Getting into Character Quickly
Acting: Moving Gracefully in the Nude
Deception: Pretending to be High-Status
Deception: Feigning Innocence
Etiquette: Lorien Celebrant Customs (Basic)
Rhetoric: Passive-Aggression and Backhanded Compliments
Rhetoric: 2 Generic Lores

☠ Loot:

N/A

☠ Injuries:

N/A

☠ Notes:

Great thread!
If you feel I missed anything contact me and we will make adjustments!
enjoy your rewards!

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