Ordim (prime)/KrakenEats
Adventurers of all shapes and sizes shuffled out into the night, leaving the Stumbling Pebble II a bit worse for the wear. Only a handful of people remained, still just as varied in appearance as the crowd that had left, but lacking the numerous overlapping voices and concerns. Muffin crumbs lay scattered around the floor, gathering densely in, under and around a small chair upon which sat a small figure covered in various colored clothes from around the world. The pile of fabric would bouncy in time with a giggle and send more crumbs cascading to the ground.
A sharp-dressed Nalfien shot daggers across the room with her eyes as she smiled and said her goodbyes. Missing the direct route to the exit, she stopped to whisper empty threats to Ordim. At least he hoped they were empty threats. “Shame if I had to kill my only delivery person” he thought to himself as he ignored her and instead occupied himself with the subtle hand motions he was making. He gave a curt nod to no one in particular before standing up.
“Good night everyone!”
Producing a strange metallic contraption from his satchel, Ordim said his goodbye and found himself standing in front of a bright yellow painted building back in the landing. He walked in through the door, past the counter and under the dark arch, down the stairs and into a corner of the basement, sitting down next to the strange corpse that still stood silently after all this time.
“Tonight was a bit too close Cookie, but I did what had to be done.”
He nodded his approval to the corpse and let out a long sigh.
“She was talking too much!” He added, as if the corpse could either respond or have any understanding at all. “I think it’s time to bring the Triad back around, that should provide enough of a front in case things go very wrong… or very right.”
Ordim nodded again to himself and took out a decorated stationary box. He had a lot of letters to write, but only one very important one.
Be on the lookout for news about The Triad Gaming Commission reopening, catering to gamblers of all kinds but specializing in those who speak with their hands
The sound of gurgling water mirrored Ordim’s giggle as he watched the many insects darting in and out of the water of the fountain pool. Every so often his hands would become a flurry of nearly imperceptible movements, a well-orchestrated symphony of movements that only a few would ever notice, let alone understand. A tall figure across the fountain joined in the motions, before taking over and holding their own performance. Both Ordim and the figure gave small talk to those around them, all the while secretly passing news between each other. After a time they stopped and staggered their leave from the fountain, knowing full well they would see each other again later that evening. Ordim set off from the Library and headed out to the edge of the town. The shops gave way to small homes and gardens before finally surrendering to the thick rainforest on the other side of the fence. Finding a quiet spot, he sat down and set about writing a letter:
18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)JOEKUPS (talk) 18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT) Brothers and Sisters, Long have we all worked individually for our own goals under the watchful eye of the Council. Like embers from a dying fire, some will try and reignite the blaze that should rightfully burn, only to end up smoldering and fading away. Let it be known that these embers drift once again upon the wind and have found dry kindling on which to feast. More of our brothers and Sisters are called to The Isle’s of Four Winds to help us fan the flames. Seek out the signals and offer up your support. Together, for the glory of the Council, we can ignite a wild fire. In service of the Kraken. 18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)18:48, 14 March 2019 (CDT)
The letter soon found itself resting upon the meeting table, hidden deep in the basement of a once grand manor, nestled square in the heart of the port city of Solhaven.