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Legends of the adventures
By: Raneth

Pub: An Evening Out (The Keep)

<he door to Remy's inn swings shut, the raucous laughter and cheery light vanishing. A grin on your face, you begin your journey back to the Keep, the taste of the many glasses of Spring Mead fresh on your tongue.
     
      The cobblestones wobble as you walk, and the night sky overhead waves back and forth like you're on a boat. You wave back at it, and a man with a direwolf companion gives you a wave back as well as a bemused shake of his head.
     
      "Hello!" you shout. "It'sh a nice night, ishn't it!"
     
      The man laughs and turns the corner, his direwolf giving you a yip in farewell. You navigate by the light of the street lamps, not entirely sure where you're going but certain that the Keep is in this general direction.
     
      As you head down another street, you spot another person dressed in fine silks slumped on a bench, his head hanging and a sheaf of paper in his lap. You pause. You know him. He was at Remy's too!
     
      A few sad-sounding sniffles come from his direction, and you wobble over, taking a heavy seat beside him. Above your head, the oil lamp flickers in a chill late-night breeze, the moon high overhead.
     
      "What'sh wronng?" you ask the man. "It'sh too nice out to be ...hic... shad dish evening. Niight. Morning?" You're not entirely sure.
     
      The man sniffles again, then straightens, the papers in his lap shifting. "It'sh work," he says. "I'm ...hic... jusht an apprenticee. I wash shuupposhed to demonshtwate my deshignsh forr mmy mashter for two of hish clientshh. My firsht tashk to ddo on my own! Buut dey ...hic... bbod live in SShynara, which ...hic... ish ...hic... sho ...hic... far away, and de clientsh are sho high prrofile! ...hic... De merchant wwho wash sshupposhed to give ...hic... me a ride dish mornning jjushtt vanishhed, aand dde due date ish tomorrow!" He throws his hands up. "I give up. Its too much!"
     
      You frown. "You shhouldn't give up sho eashilly," you say. "It can't bee dat bad."
     
      He shakes his head. "It ish! To gget to Shynara in time I'd neeed a magi to help me, but I don't have de money to paay one, ...hic... eider." He slumps again. "I'll never get it ddone. I shhould jushht ...hic... go too my mashter tomorrow and shay I'm not ready to ...hic... bbe a journeyman."
     
      You blink a few times. "I'mm a magi," you say.
     
      He whips his head up. "Really? Yyou?" Why does he sound so surprised?
     
      "Really I ...hic... am," you say. "I have tonsh of crreatuuresh to help me do dingsh. I couuld help yyou demonshtwate... shtuff."
     
      He stares at you, brows furrowed. "Well... it'shh noot like I haave much to loshe. IIf I give you deshe ordersh, ...hic... do you dink you ccould help me ccarry dem out? We'd needd to get deem done ...hic... toonight. Do you really dink you could do dat?"
     
      You nod, and then regret it when the world spins for a few seconds afterward. "Shuree," you say. "I’m a very excellent maggi."
     
      "Ggreat!" He jumps up and does a staggering dance. "DDish will be amazing!"
     
      "Grreat!" you agree, before you tilt your head in confusion. "What arre you an aapprentice for?"
     
      "Decoratinng!" he says, throwing his hands up. "You are ...hic... good to help wid dish, right? We'll jusht need a flying creature sho we ccan get to de cashttlesh, ...hic... and ...hic... shomeding ...hic... ccolorful, to inshpire ...hic... ush. Maybe... A Puvia, an ...hic... AAvrael, and ...hic... a ...hic... nighhtcrawller! Doshe ...hic... are prettyy, ...hic... right?
     
      "Greeat!" The man says as you heartily agree. He holds out a hand, and shakes yours hard when you take it. "I’m Francoish Hallencamppenopaloushmid, it'shh nice to meet yoou! Our firsht tashk wiill be tto decorate de enntwwance to de courtyard of de yooung Prince Lavin!"
Francois peers eagerly at you when you return to him, but as you don't have an adult Puvia, an adult Avrael and an adult Nightcrawler with you along with Remy's latest drinks, you cannot embark on your journey.
You bring your creatures back to Francois and the two of you start your journey towards Synara.

Pub: Decorative Drinking (Synara City)

Your mount veers toward the castle that juts against the countryside, Prince Lavin's kingdom quiet and peaceful from your place so high up. You whiz past torches that illuminate minarets and towers, heading to a slightly rocky landing in the walled courtyard. You keep your nightcrawler in your sleeve, wrapped contentedly around your arm, and your puvia and avrael fly alongside the mount you've chosen.
     
      "Here?" you ask. Behind you, Francois slides off the side of your mount and hits the ground hard. For a moment he doesn't move, and your heart beats faster.
     
      But then he's up, rooting through the saddlebags he loaded your mount down with. "Shuppliesh, ...hic... shupplieshh," he mutters, and you swear you hear crashing as he digs through the bags.
     
      "Hey!" A voice makes you both turn, and a guard in chainmail approaches you. "What are you doing here?"
     
      You blink. What are you doing here?
     
      "Ohh!" Francois stops his digging and bows to the guard. "Greeetiingsh! Myy Mashter, De Shpendoroush Decoraator ...hic... Ariella, hash shentt me to demonshttwate my prowesh bby decorating ...hic... de eentwance hall to Prince Lavin'ssh courtyaarrd!"
     
      The guard raises an eyebrow. "I... see. And do you have proof of this?" He glares at you as well, and you smile in return.
     
      "I... I do!" Francois fumbles in his pockets and pulls out a wrinkled piece of paper for the guard to read. You wonder if you should have asked to see proof too.
     
      The guard raises an eyebrow as he looks over the documents. From your position, you can see the tell-tale guild seal that marks them as legitimate. Great. Everything should go well!
     
      "So...you're going to decorate the entrance hall to the gardens? Just the two of you? At midnight? You were supposed to be here this afternoon!"
     
      Francois beams. "Yesh! Dish ish myy ashishtant...um...hic..." he frowns.
     
      The guard holds up a hand. "Well, the seal is legitimate. And you are a magi, correct?" he asks you. You nod, doing your best not to stumble.
     
      "I'll tell you what. Follow me." You and Francois follow the guard across the courtyard, noting the immaculate stone statues and artfully positioned hedges and trees. There's even a stone statue of Kira, depicting the direwolf puppy playing with butterflies. The green and white visions of the flowers swirl around in your mind, mixing with Francois' happy humming.
     
      "Here we are," the guard says. "I suppose a late apprentice is better than nothing."
     
      The courtyard entrance is really more of a greeting room, and the stone walls are gray and chipped. A vase full of dead flowers sits in the corner on an uneven wooden stool.
     
      "How ...hic... horriblee," Francois says. ""I ...hic... might be shick."
     
      "Not on the floor," the guard says. The marble floors are scuffed with years of bootprints, and you wonder if vomit would improve the muddy green color. "Prince Lavin hopes to impress visiting dignitaries in the courtyard, but the entrance must be improved. I suppose I'll leave you both to it. It's not like you can make it much worse, drunk or not." He mutters the last under his breath as he leaves.
     
      Francois doesn't seem to hear. "Dish ish our canvash!" he says, spreading out his arms. "I envishion....um...." his arms fall by his sides. "Well, what would yoouu do? ...hic..."
     
      You look over your creatures, waiting for an idea to strike. You mostly just feel dizzy when you stare at your Puvia's bright feathers.
     
      "Herre," Francois says, handing you a familiar-smelling flask. Its more of Remy's drink, for extra inspiration."
     
      You drink it down. Just what you needed.
     
      Yes! Puvia feathers! EVERYWHERE! Wait, now you know! Prince Lavin liked his albino direwolf, right? PAINT EVERYTHING WHITE!
     
      Francois blinks a few times at your enthusiasm. "Great ideash!"
You feel yourself starting to sober up. That is completely unacceptable!
You've worked hard, but your task isn't over. Francois leads you down the streets of Synara away from the palace. Large manor houses surround you, each one made of polished limestone that glows in the moonlight. You're clearly in the wealthy quarters of Synara city.
     
      "It shhould be jusht around dish corner... dere!" Francois points, and you nearly run into him when he stops. The house he's pointing at looks familiar, and it takes you a few moments to remember.
     
      "Vashial'sh houshe?" you ask.
     
      Francois shakes his head. "Noot hish houshe. Dat!" he points again, and you squint through the gloom.
     
      A carriage sits by the entrance to the manor, though there's no sign of the horses that would usually be hitched to the traces. It's made of high-quality wood, but isn't painted, clearly waiting for a decorator's touch.
     
      "VVashial ish twying to impresh a laddy," Francois says. You nod. That sounds like Vasial. "He aashked my ...hic... mashter too decoratee hish carriage ...hic... for him in order to catch herr eye, and shhe entwushted de tashk to ...hic... me." Francois puffs out his chest. "Dish shhould ...hic... be eashy!"
     
      He approaches the carriage, and you follow, running your hands over the wood. You didn't think you'd be helping to decorate a carriage. It seems rather odd. But if that's Francois' job, you can certainly help out.
     
      "Hmm... " Francois is already taking measurements in between sips of another flask. "Heere," he says, tossing you another. You wonder where he keeps them. "Dish ...hic... ish about ...hic... making impreshioonsh, sho we shhould do shomeding flaashhhy. Eye-catching."
     
      You take a swig from the flask, the burning taste shooting past your lips and into your stomach. From your sleeve, your nightcrawler pops its head out and tastes the air with its antennae. You swear it gives you a reproachful wave of its many legs before disappearing into your sleeve.
     
      BEETLE SHELLS! That will certainly catch her eye! And Fill it with rocks! Vasial's always collecting stones, isn't he?
     
     
      ---
     
      "Well,, itsh certainly eye-ccattching," Francois says. His eyes look crossed. "I deeclare dish ...hic... night a shuccceesh!!" Liquid splashes from his flask as he punches the air in victory, illuminated by the early rays of the morning. "Now to get back and accept dee accoladessh from ...hic... my mashter."
     
      You nod, your head buzzing from the drink and from exhaustion. You've been out all night, and crawling into bed sounds like a good idea.
     
      You help Francois onto your mount, and you begin the slow flight back to the Keep. You keep having to readjust your grip on the reins, and your Avrael leaves its perch on you shoulder, chittering at you in annoyance before flying by your side instead. Francois laughs as it circles his head.
     
      "Hey, little guy... hey!! HEY!" You nearly send your mount into a spin trying to look where Francois is pointing, but it's not at your Avrael. "Dat'sh hish wagon! Dat'sh ...hic... de merchant who wassh shuppposshed ...hic... to giive ...hic... me a riide!" He's leaning off the side of your mount, and you grab him to steady him.
     
      Below, and its easy to see since you were flying dangerously low, is Alethin's wagon. It's parked among a group of tall, flowering shrubs, the thick foliage helping hide it from the view of anyone on the road.
     
      Francois's frantic pointing and the realization that you're already really low makes you guide your mount into a stop by the wagon. Or more accurately, your mount makes the landing before Francois drags you off, both of you falling to the ground. Francois gets to his feet first, stomping over roots and a patch of small white flowers that are growing around the shrubs. They're everywhere, the location quite pretty.
     
      "Hey! ...hic..." Francois shouts, taking a few wobbly steps toward the wagon. "I needed a ride today!! ...hic... Where did you go!"
     
      There's no answer except the wind making the bushes rustle. Wherever Alethin is, it's not here. His wagon is dark and grim-looking in the early morning light, the wood stained and the leather in the driver's seat a dark, dingy brown.
     
      "Dish wagon neeedsh... ...hic... ...hic... flowersh," you say, nodding sagely. "Lotsh of flowersh."
     
      Francois blinks, a slow smile forming over his face. "Dat would ...hic... mmaake it nicerr, woullddn't it?" he says, his anger vanishing.
     
      "Flowersh," you agree, getting to your feet and plucking a few. "NNeedssh more ...hic... flowersh."

Pub: The Morning After (The Keep)

Sunlight lances through the window of your room at the Keep, and you open heavy eyelids, wincing when the brightness reaches you. It must be past noon. Rolling over, you nearly squish your nightcrawler, who zips onto the head of your bed. From the window, your avrael chitters at you, the sound deafening.
     
      You sit up, ignoring the pounding in your head. There are flowers all over the floor, as well as bits of paper that look to be painted like Puvia feathers. You're still wearing the robes you wore last night, except they're covered in bits of white paint. Your pockets are filled with small rocks and a few beetle carapaces.
     
      The last thing you remember is leaving Remy's. "I'm never drinking again," you say out loud. Out the window, perched on the ledge, your Puvia gives you a disbelieving look.
     
      After a while you notice a piece of parchment stuck under your door.
     
      Greetings Magi,
     
      Apologies for the time it took to contact you. Francois Hallencampenopaloussmith was unable to remember your name or face, and it took some time before we could determine who aided him in carrying out our important orders.
     
      Your contributions to our projects were interesting. Our clients did not sever ties with the guild after seeing the results. We even established contact with a potential new client after paying reparations for his wagon.
     
      We appreciate your efforts. In the future, however, please refer to a senior decorating master before aiding another of our apprentices. In order to help you remember this, we have entrusted you with a gift.
     
      With all respect,
      The Decorator's guild

Pub: Maybe Just One (The Keep)

Head over to Remy's after a hard day's work?
You head over to Remy's Inn for a drink.