Curious Coeurlian RP Repository

[Langston]

Gridania was bustling, as usual. Elezen men and women walked by the stables, petting this bird or that bird. Children could be seen fooling around behind the Carpenters' Guild, engaged in amusing games with one another. Sprinkled here or there were some angry looking Wood Wailers, though one could hardly guess if they were angry or not; those wooden masks obscured their furrowed brows and narrowed eyes.

But perhaps the angriest looking person of all was Langston Clevers. He was sitting on a rock formation right outside of the Adders' Nest with folded legs and his hands holding up his face, glaring past the stairs and right at the front desk. They had a cute set-up, what with a lovely hanging wreath and a banner on each end of the entrance with designs inspired by the season. It probably wouldn't be much longer until they bring it all down.

Langston was looking to bring it all down, or so his expression would seem to imply. The occasional passerby would see him and offer him a wave, only for him to wave back weakly before returning to his staring contest. The Adders at the front would shoot him glances, as well. They wanted to get rid of him, but he wasn't doing anything wrong with his silent protest. All Langston knew is that the Adders were harboring a secret, and he was dying to learn it.

[Tretesta]

It was not hard to spot Langston from a distance, the light colored head against the mossy stone and standing out from the darkwood waterwheel nearby. Rather than take the bridge across and hail him like a normal goddamned person, Tretesta chose the path less traveled. Stepping into the covered walkway along the Carpenter's Porch, he stole around like a wraith just out of vision of the watchful lalafel to the boulder. On Langston's left now, Tret followed the cook's gaze into the Adder's nest, watching in silence for a bit as dirty looks were shot back and forth. Finally, he broke the silence

“…What are we doing, again?”

[Langston]

Langston flinched at the sound of the familiar voice, quickly turning to his left with a balled up fist. As soon as Tret's face entered his vision, he let out a sigh and relaxed his muscles. “Gods, Tret… I was almost ready to knock you one!” he exclaimed. The tension washed away and he turned back to the Adders' Nest, narrowing his eyes into the entrance.

“I'm carefully watching this place to see how they run their little racket.” he said, ready to answer the Hyur's question. “I've scoured the area, you see. There's plenty of plant life to be found in the Shroud. Various herbs, shrubs, some assorted fruits and vegetables. But never have I seen a single Dalamud Popoto grow… well, anywhere!” He stood on the rock triumphantly. “I want to know where they get their supply, and why it is such a dirty little secret, and more importantly, what necessitates me having to shell out Serpent Seals for their dirty little business!” He was loud enough for an Adder to hear him, prompting the woman to respond with a simple command. “Go home!”

[Tretesta]

Tret could only grin as he tempted fate and reflexes, then turned back to the Nest. “Dalamud Popotos… The red skin ones, yeah? Little waxy, great for roasting. I prefer them for soup, actually.” He'd perform a simple hand gesture at the yelling Adder, then hop up onto the rock and turn fully to Langston. “Guess I never thought about where I get them from, and I've been too lazy to save the eyes to try and grow more myself. So… Just gonna sit out here, trade mean looks with desk clerks, and hope the answer falls into your lap then?”

[Langston]

“I've tried regrowing them. It never works the way I anticipate.” he said, not even facing the man as he spoke. “The plan is to watch for the crates. Wherever they originate from must be labeled on them! Then, we head to their dealer to try and learn more.” He shrugged before finally turning to Tret. “The problem with that is that I've yet to see any crates pass by here. They must take their deliveries elsewhere. Where the people can't see, conveniently enough.”

[Tretesta]

“Really now… You'd think… Huh. Yeah, you won't find anything here, This is all ahhhh… employees? Front of house? Something like that. Like the counter at a store. Step up, place an order or get some paperwork. All the 'Stuff' Happens in the back.” Tret made a half circle with his hand towards the Nest “You know. Like Barracks and storage and such. Have you watched things coming off the dock near the Lancer House? Shouldnt be too hard to catch some snake checking and escorting a shipment…. Hey…” A mischevious light shines in his eyes suddenly. He had a most horrible wonderful idea….

[Langston]

Langston folded his arms and looked up at Tret, already expecting something stupid to escape his lips. “If you're going to suggest some casual act of cruelty towards the Adders in order for a grain of truth, I'm going to have to decline. I live not too far from here, you know.”

[Tretesta]

“Cruelty? You hurt me, Lang. When have I ever been cruel around you? Sure, I made a slightly tasteless remark about your son, but never cruel… Lets go for a walk. It may not be against the law to stand around, but we can certainly be held for being suspicious…” Tret hopped off the rock and began wandering off towards the east at a leisurely pace.

[Langston]

“I wasn't even thinking of that. Rather, I was referring to a moment where we became familiar with a round of drinks not meant for us which set off a wild chain of events.” Agreeing with the rest in silence, Langston followed after Tret, though there was a level of hesitation in his steps. The Adders, at least, were relieved to be rid of the ever watchful Lalafell.

[Tretesta]

“I still hardly think cruel is the right word. But you have about the right idea. Couldn't be too hard to look the part of someone assigned to check incoming cargo, neh?” Tret slowed his pace to keep back with Langston's clearly nervous steps “Maaaaaaybe someone ends up with a headache in doing so. Maybe not. What I do know is there's a lovely porch outside the Lancer House much better suited to sitting and watching who all comes and goes. Much less suspicious than a boulder square in front of the Nest.”

[Langston]

Langston pointed a single index finger at Tret while still walking, not even bothering to look at him. “See? That, right there. That's what I'm talking about.” he said. “Why must a simple matter of reconnaissance invite the potential to devolve into violence? We just need to play the role of inspector and look at a crate of popotoes. No headaches, nothing of the sort. It's not that hard, I think.”

The Lancers' Guild was coming into view, and it didnt seem like a nice place to hang around too long, either. Their favored techniques may result this duo skewered or disemboweled for their efforts. All for a crate full of balls of starch masked in red skin. Still, it offered a nice vantage point to look out to the docks. “I doubt they get many goods from here. But, it's a start…”

[Tretesta]

Tret grinned broadly as he was admonished for trying to have a plan “Now now, that is far less cruel than I have been before. And I can think of few better ways to get up close and personal with some spuds than to look like the assigned inspector themselves!”

The hyur looked and felt quite at ease as they approached the Wailer Barracks, but that seemed to be a recurring thing for him. Up the short flights of stairs they went, and Tret would lean on the railing of the covered balcony overlooking the docks “You'd be surprised, I think. The difference between hauling goods across the Central forest versus checking in at the Hawthorne Hut then Loading them into a boat is significant. Coming up from south in the desert, its quite a bit easier for travel, Plus it drops you off right near the markets!”

[Langston]

“I suppose you're right.” he said, keeping his vision focused on the boats. “So, uh… how's your wife?”

[Tretesta]

“There we go… Just two guys talking about anything. Blue's doing good. Magnet for trouble, neh? But good. Still going to be out east for a while yet, but she's having some fun out there. Tells me she was climbing all over the buildings in Kugane. Apparently there's one tall one with two great big bath tubs on top! Crazy.”

[Langston]

“Doesn't the architecture run rather high, there? I'm not sure I'd want someone in a neighboring building watching me decompress in the buff.” A small ferry pulled up to the dock, with nothing but people coming in from a neighboring area. “Did I tell you about my last little vacation with Pipino? Gair recommended an inn to stay in, close to the beach. The place had absolutely zero regard for any sort of privacy; the bath was right in the open. You could see as soon as you woke up from bed.”

[Tretesta]

“She said it was one of the highest points of the entire city, yeah. Can't even imagine how tall that must've been…. No, I don't think you… Travel ferry… Did. Really now? Where is this place? And the hell was Gair doing that that's his recommendation?”

[Langston]

“His heart was in the right place.” he answered with a smirk. “It was designed for couples, and Pipino and I are married. It's just, well… I'm not sure how long it takes for the average couple to get into that level of comfort with one another, but she's just not that kind of woman…”

Another larger ferry came in, this time with two Adders in tow. They were carrying a crate from both ends, lifting it with their knees and setting it down on the dock. Langston listened carefully with his sharp ears. “Aren't these supposed to come sealed?” asked one Adder. “They must've been in a cheap mood, today. Last crate they had and it was missing a lid. So what do they do? Have the utmost faith in our ability to haul it without spilling the goods!” snapped the other.

Langston looked out to the dock, inspecting the crate as best as he could. It was hard to tell from this distance, but the contents were decidedly red! “I think this could be it…!”

[Tretesta]

“Wait, Here I am thinking out in the open as in the neighbors could see you. Just you and pip seeing each other? Bah, that's not… so…” Tret trailed off, watching the new development below them “…Would you look at that. Well, this is your haul, Lang. I am simply a tool to be used. Following won't do us much good but tell us what we already know. And I doubt you'll settle for Just that box alone…”

[Langston]

“I'm not interested in stealing them, I just need to know where they come from!” he said in an annoyed tone. “Is there any way we could inspect any sort of information on the crate, perhaps? Or make an inquiry without them rejecting us?”

[Tretesta]

“Well, then I suppose there's three ways to approach this. We ask them… One of us creates a diversion while the other looks at the crate… Or maybe we take the ferry back, see if the top of that crate got knocked off some where on the boat or closer to the eastern stretch of woods. Maybe we conveniently learn everything we need from that. Now… I know where my heart is. And I know what is very likely to actually get us nothing. How are you feeling?” He kept his gaze unfocused, watching towards the markets to the south, but keeping the bright yellow jackets in his side vision “Tick tock…”

[Langston]

“I'm feeling like we're going to get into some trouble.” he said with a defeated sigh. “You're two for two now, you know. But, my pride as a chef and a seeker of truth are on the line. Now, how do you propose we get on this ferry for the return trip?”

[Tretesta]

“Ehhhh, what's a little trouble? But fine fine. You big baby.” Tret pulled his social master key off his belt: The bright yellow bird helmet. He handed the mask to Langston and started off down the porch “Put this on now, and let's take a chance” he flashed a grin and and wink back at the smaller man and set off down the path towards the docks

[Langston]

Langston took the helmet into his hands, his brows furrowing in complete disbelief. “You just casually walk around with this thing in tow?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. He pulled it over his head… unsuccessfully. The build of this particular helmet was made for a Hyur, and thus, its ~~small~~ poor build could not contain his ~~larger~~ handsome head. With a bit of a struggle, the helmet finally comes on, and he followed behind Tret. It smelled a little funny. He wondered what the blue haired man had eaten before this little excursion.

[Tretesta]

“Hey! HEY! Come on, please don't go yet, we need a ride!” As Tret hit the dock at a jog, he raised a hand and called out to the recently arrived delivery boat. Skidding to a stop, Tret grabbed a pier post to steady himself and turned to call back “COME ON, ROOKIE! We're late as is! Katerina gonna have my ass, which means I'm gonna have your ass!” He turned a slightly annoyed turned to pleading look to the ferry master “Hate getting stuck with the new hires. Any chance you could give us a lift? Next boat isn't in for another half bell.”

[Langston]

Langston sucked his teeth as soon as he realized the scenario had him playing subordinate to Tret. “You've gotta be…” he muttered under his breath before he made an exaggerated jog down the steps, faking some heavy breaths of exhaustion as he made it down. “Sorry, sir!” he said between breaths. “I'm gonna be honest, I think they gave me the wrong helmet! I can't even think in this thing!” He looked up and shifted his glance between both Adders. “…Ahhh, did we miss the boat!?”

The Adders looked at each other with narrowed eyes before turning back to the popoto hunting duo. “And… why is that our problem?” asked the Elezen Adder. “We're in the middle of a job.”

[Tretesta]

“Ah come on, never said it was your problem! It's mine of course. But I'm trying my damnedest to make it less of a problem. We're late to relieve the porter at the Hawthorne Hut, all I'm asking is you let us hop on for a ride over to Sweetbloom. Surely you're heading back that way?” Tret's face was the picture of misery as he pleaded with the man “Please, mate. No trouble, just a ride along so we don't get yelled at for missing a shift.”

[Langston]

The Elezen Adder folded his arms, eyes closed in contemplation. He finally let out a sigh. “The sight of you and your bumbling mate remind me of my days as a private.” he said, doing nothing but increasing Langston's irritation with this whole situation. “If it'll truly save your necks, you can stow away with the popotoes. Just keep your hands off the merchandise, okay?”

[Tretesta]

Perking up immediately, Tret threw an Adder Salute out and beamed “Popotos? Bah, hate the things! Won't touch a one! Hear that, rook? Looks like you keep your job today! The Adders always come through, lad!” Eagerly but carefully, Tret hopped on board and turned back to offer a hand to the lalafel “Come on then. little boat ride then we gotta make a dash again!”

[Langston]

Langston began walking as if he wasn't tired at all. He offered a silent bow towards the Adders and walked up to Tret, rejecting the hand that was offered and simply hopping on as well. “How very fortunate we are for this charity.” he said flatly before making his way into storage.

[Tretesta]

Undeterred, Tret straightens up again and shakes his head ruefully at the Adder “No sense of gratitude from these younger ones, neh? Don't you worry, I know a friend indeed! Quiet as mice” he gave a wink to the man and slipped into the hold as well, voice dropping to a bare whisper “Only so much time before we land again.”

[Langston]

“It'd be in our best interest to work quickly, then…” he said, looking through Tret's helmet to read the surface of the popoto crates. “Mmmm… it says… 'Border Garden, North Shroud'… What the hells is a Border Garden? I've never heard of such a place.” He looked to Tret, wondering if the man had any clue as to where it could be. Looking more closely, the crate seemed to have some sort of faded sigil on it, but it was difficult to tell what it represented.

[Tretesta]

From a pouch, Tret pulled out a notebook and stick of charcoal, looking about as he did to make sure the two were not being watched “Not a clue… Some kind of logo there… Lemme…” His eyes flickered up and down between the sigil and his paper, trying to copy it as best he could before hastily putting his tools away “Maybe someone over at the Treespeak stables can tell us. Or up in Hyrstmill. Here, keep looking, see if you can find anything else. I'll keep lookout. Listen for me stomping my heel twice.”

[Langston]

“Huh. Just one moment…” he said. The boat suddenly rocked, perhaps due to a bad ferryman or an errant gust of wind. Seeing as he wasn't prepared, Langston fell and rolled to an adjacent crate, hitting it with a loud thud. “Agh, godsdammit!” he let out in an angry whisper. Upon opening his eyes, however, the answer became clear to him. He examined it closely. “H-Hey, this symbol is Ishgardian! It's, uh… Hmmm, which house was the one with the tower…” He snapped his fingers as if the answer would magically pop in his head. Truth be told, he found Ishgardian history boring, and the answer definitely didn't exist. He just knew it was on the flag.

[Tretesta]

“Hey, Easy back there! Sit down if you don't have your sea legs!” tret spoke up a bit, in case someone became curious about the thumping, then lowered his voice again “Tower?…. Tower. Huh, That's… The Dzemael! They run bird fights, fun fact! Would like to enter Ricard some day….”

[Langston]

“'Fun fact'?” he echoed in disbelief. “That sounds awful! It's no wonder my mother doesn't care for the people raising birds up north.” He folded his arms, pacing around a bit after rising to his feet. “Border Garden, North Shroud, House Dzemael… I think it's rather simple. Past Fallgourd Float is Florentel's Spire. If we continue northwest from there, we'll be in… Coerthas. So, somewhere between the two regions, there must be a garden where the Ishgardians are growing these…”

[Tretesta]

“I've got my own issues with them outside of that, but not the point right now. That seems like as good a lead as we're going to get for now though. Lucky us, we're heading in the complete other direction! We'll hit sweetbloom, get over to Hawthorne, and see about what the rest of out day looks like, neh?” Tret sat down on the deck and leaned back against a crate “Settle in, then, Nothing to do but wait right now.”

[Langston]

Langston reached into the open crate to grab one of the popotoes. He leaned on the crate as he sat down, extending his hand with the grasped popoto towards Tret. “Dalamud Popoto… Some names just don't age quite well, do they?” Flattening his free hand, he mimics the fall of the moon, bringing the popoto down on the back of his hand. “Where were you when Dalamud fell, Tret?”

[Tretesta]

Reaching over, Tret takes the spud and tosses it back into the crate, shaking his head “Come on now. I have enough trouble with the Maelstrom, don't get me in shit with the snakes too. But… The moon…” Leaning back again, the blue topped man closed his eyes as he mused “A world away, Lang. I never told you Blue and I aren't from here, neh?” He let the statement hang in the air for a bit before he turned again and looked at Langston.

“Blue and I are refugees, not born here in the Shroud. We arrived a while after after it happened, back when more Dhona was not quite what it is now. The impact didn't really… Hurt us like it did you? The stories I've heard, it's really Aldenard that got it the worst. Your warriors of light did well to keep it from doing more damage”

[Langston]

Langston laughed softly as the mock moon was snatched from his grasp and tossed aside. Looks like the man wasn't completely reckless. “Far East, then?” he asked. “That makes sense. I imagine the moon was there for you all and then one day it just… wasn't there. Everyone here has their own stories to tell of that day, some far more sorrowful than others.”

Langston looked up to the ceiling and sighed. “I still remember things quite well. I was still training with Grandfather, then. The situation was getting worse, but we resolved to stay where we were, in the middle of Thanalan. That is, of course, until my mother came to pick us up on chocobo. We ended up at my father's manor, of all places. I'm not sure what caused us all to simultaneously bury our respective hatchets with one another. In the light of a cataclysmic event, personal matters seem to die. We all continued on as normal once it was over. But I could never forget. That odd family reunion has popped into my head once more, now that I have to deal with my father again real soon…”

He shook his head and smiled. “But I'm just rambling, here. It's just one of those things that tends to come up every now and then. I think you might be the first person I've spoken with who had no real experience with the event.”

[Tretesta]

“Impending death has a way of making things seem insignificant. Sounds like everyone was just trying to make amends out of panic, not honesty. Kinda like ahhhh… Man on his deathbed, begging the gods to spare him in exchange for giving all to charity.” Tret turned his case to the ceiling of the hold and fell silent for a bit, then spoke up again “No worry. Normal for the mind to go back to trauma like that… Do you want to make up with your dad? Or would you rather ahhhh…. Bury any hatchet you could get a hold of?”

[Langston]

“I had grown used to simply ignoring him. Now that this meeting with him is being thrust upon me, well… Truth be told, I've no real desire to make amends. He'll say his piece and then it'll all be over.”

The motion of the boat finally stopped. Langston emerged from the door and looked at the sun breaking through the trees above. They were at Sweetbloom Pier. Just a few more minutes before he was free of this stupid helmet!

[Tretesta]

“Hm… Life is still short, with or without a giant moon coming to ki- believe this is our stop!” Tret emerged from the hold behind the lalafel, all grins and boister again “There we are! A thousand thank yous to the Seed Seer's finest! ROOKIE! GET TO STEPPIN! I'M GIVING YOU A HEAD, START SO YOU BETTER BEAT ME THERE!” He would then turn to the ferry master and give a bow “Everything down there is as good or better than when we showed up. If your bird ever needs anything, you've a friend at the Gift!”

[Langston]

Langston sighed a deep sigh before beginning a brisk jog along the beaten path. As soon as he was certain he was out of the sight of the Adders, he began his struggle to take off his ridiculous bird helmet. He wrestled and struggled with the tight helmet before it finally came off, causing him to reel back a bit. Though he wasn't suffocating in the blasted thing, a breath of fresh air was exactly what he needed; a smile painted his face as he could see and breathe clearly.

The Adders gave Tret a Serpent Salute and went about their own business, going in to inspect the cargo. Nothing seemed out of order, in spite of that one bout of thumping they heard. Everything was looking good!

[Tretesta]

Tret came up the path shortly after Langston, scooping up his mask and hooking it to his belt again without breaking stride “Come on then, Lang. We've still got a hike over to the Hut, no time for rest. Like I said, we're on the other goddamned side of the woods, so we've got a ride ahead of us. Actually… Think we've got time for a stop in at the Cork, once we're over that way?”

[Langston]

“What… you have an itch for a drink, or whatever foul thing you ate earlier and breathed all over that helmet?” he asked with a smirk. “Well, I certainly don't mind. The Bobbing Cork is a lovely little place. I've been there with Pipino, too!” And so the trek began, with the duo cutting through southwest. It wouldn't be too long before Gilbert's Spire came into view.

[Tretesta]

Tret cast a wry look over his shoulder, then turned back with a shrug “I mean, I had that thing on all morning before I started harassing you. You wear something like that for a full work shift and tell me it smells like roses, you little shit. But honestly? May be good to see if anyone over there knows anything about this border garden first. If there's any Quivers around, they might be a little more helpful, or even Aeluuin could know something.”

[Langston]

An obvious point clicked in Langston's brain, probably thanks to the proper airflow now that he was free of Tret's work mask. “Actually…” he began. “We're going to have to climb that fallen tree, aren't we? Not to mention a brief stroll around some Stropers and less-than-friendly Spriggans… A break would probably do us some good, anyway.” He smiled softly and gave the blue haired man a reassuring wave. “I'll buy.”

[Tretesta]

“You say that like there was some concern over how I would be buying.” He grinned broadly, but Tret didn't turn back this time to look at the little chef “We'll take rentals out to Bentbranch and find you a good scrapper, just in case. Ricard should hold his own if it comes down to it. Then up the tree yeah, through the Dig, and hit Float from the south. If we go through the city, someone might see us and have questions like “What the hell?” and “What are you doing back here?” and “How do you plead?” None of which I'm super interested in answering.”

[Langston]

“Oh, there was no concern. Think of it as a token of my appreciation.” In time, the aetheryte was beginning to come into view, glowing bright blue beyond the trees. “Bentbranch? Come to think of it, my own chocobo should be taking refuge there. Between work and Lorry, my hands are often full, so my mother tends to take responsibility over Friender… I guess we'll find out if I'm lucky enough to see him there.”

[Tretesta]

Nearly about to question the name “Friender”, Tret was suddenly distracted by another part of that whole spiel “Wait…. Your mother works at Moogle's Gift? Small world! Wonder if I know her… Wonder if I've dealt with Friender, for that matter…maybe to both!”

[Langston]

“Saying that she works there is a bit of a stretch. It'd be more accurate to say that she's afforded a few privileges there due to her history. It's certainly possible that you've run into her… she has short hair and bears a strong resemblance to me. Friender is a bird with pale blue feathers, small one, whatever they call that class of bird…”

[Tretesta]

“…No….Can't say either of those immediately spring to mind. But hey, there's the hut. Lets get a move on before it gets too late. Though this could be an excellent night adventure. Cannot remember what phase the moon is in tonight…”

[Langston]

“Stumbling upon what I assume to be a privately owned popoto patch past a peaceful hour doesn't sound palatable. We'll hike faster.” The duo made their way south, pressing towards Greentear. The area was teeming with vilekin, a few of them already fat with blood. Langston groaned as he watched them hop around. “How unpleasant…” he uttered. “At least they seem docile.”

[Tretesta]

“I almost expect stumbling upon it in the daylight will also be… unpalatable, as it were? But they'll have better aim.” Tret looked as Langston called out trouble “Could always hop across the stream there if we're feeling extra cautious. Not much further, but the closer we stay to the wailer camp, the less we have to even thing about being bothered with.”

[Langston]

Langston pulled out a knife that was strapped onto his leg, letting the blade glimmer against the faint sunlight that broke through the trees. “You're armed, aren't you?” he asks. “A few chigoes won't slow us down that bad, even if they were hungry.”

[Tretesta]

His head turned slightly when his companion made a move to arm up, so Tret would follow suit by simply placing a hand on a hip pouch “Well sure, should always carry something out here if you're going to travel alone. Feeling like unloading some anger on wildlife then?”

[Langston]

“Tret, there's something melodramatic that Grandfather always used to say. You walk hand in hand with death with every animal you hunt, every fish you hook, every fruit you pick. Know death, but don't embrace it. I don't intend on bullying some creatures out of frustration…”

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud sneeze from his mouth. “Whew! Pardon me! I didn't feel that one coming!” This noise seemed to irritate the hopping bloodsuckers, and before they knew it, they were being approached by a gang of them, ones that were not so fat with blood. Langston said nothing. He merely drew his knife in preparation.

[Tretesta]

Tret kept a careful eye on the ungodly insectoids, flinching at the sneeze. With a quiet metal rattle, he dipped a hand into his pouch and drew out a clutch of 5 flat knives, readying one “Could have also let someone else take death's hand today…” Wanting to make full use of the time they had, Tret whips off the first blade, then a second in quick succession

[Langston]

Tret's thrown knives make their mark on two of the smaller insects. One of them them fell over dead, with the blade embedded right between the eyes. Seeing its younger kin fall agitated two of the fatter bugs, who scurried in close to the duo. Seeing an opening, Langston tackles the older chigoe and pins it down, drawing his knife and sticking it into the creature. The bug wildly flapped its thin wings before falling dead as well, intimidating the ones that remained. “Knock around that other fat one and the rest will flee!” he yelled before withdrawing his knife from the fallen creature.

[Tretesta]

He tossed another knife in the air from his left hand, snatched it up in his right, and charged. But instead of stabbing at the buggy thing with the short blade, Tret sent a steel-capped boot swinging up at the creature's face area once he had closed in

[Langston]

Tret landed a solid boot to the adult chigoe's face, causing it to take to the air, flipping as it fell away. However, the bug was blessed by a familiar and disgusting miracle of ingenuity, or perhaps, forgotten instinct. Like a cornered cockroach, the insect flapped its wings and took flight, darting straight towards the Hyur, proboscis forward. Langston held back his awe and distaste for the flying blood sucker and dived forward, taking the sting to his shoulder. He landed with the chigoe still stuck in his arm and attempted to wrestle with it on the ground. “L-look at how fat you are and you're still hungry, you dirty..” he uttered as he attempted to reach for his knife with his free hand.

[Tretesta]

“Oh you're fuckin- wait, NO-” in quick succession, Tret felt disbelief, surprise, and then disbelief again as he watched the bug start to friggin fly, and then Langston do his best secret service impression. He moved quickly to the pair and flipped his knife over, attempting to help and stab the bug in it's head

[Langston]

Tret's knife punctured the bug's head, causing it to retract itself from Langston's shoulder. It yelped out a few buzzes and clicks before falling over dead, causing the rest to retreat. “Alright! That was pretty.. good.” said Langston. However, he could feel himself become woozy from offering the creature its last meal and fell to his knees, breathing slowly but steadily. “Y-yeah, pretty good…”

Playing the tough guy, he got up to his feet and began to take a few steps, only to fall forward once more. This time he put his back on the ground, looking up to the trees, and then to his blue-haired companion. “Y'see…” he said, becoming more informal with his tone. “If I had to carry your heavy arse, we'd never make it. Strategy.” As if his implication wasn't clear enough, he beckoned Tret with a lazily lifted arm.

[Tretesta]

“<Son of a>… YAH!” Tret takes a moment, looking away from Langston as he gets himself to his feet, to kick the carcass of the attacking bug he'd most recently slain “I have told you little bastards how many times before not to FUCK with m- Lang?” He turns back to his companion and approaches, hands on hips and shaking his head. Crouching down and grinning at Langston now, Tret tilted his head “What? Too good for Death's hand? Gotta take mine?Alright, come on then. Suppose we can take Derrick out towards Fallgourd instead of Ric and Friend. And get you a cookie or something.” He then finally took Langstons arm near the elbow and pulled him up and into a fireman's carry in one quick move so they could continue up to the Gift.

[Langston]

Langston shook off the dizzying spin and watched as the world bopped up and down. He supposed it would have been safe to doze off right about now, but he didn't really feel like it. Still, it was tough to stay awake. Maybe an exciting tale will keep him up through to march to the Gift. “So, uhh…” he said lazily. “How did you meet Blue?”

[Tretesta]

“Blue? Oh…. Hah. That's a story…. Starts like so many others ..” Hearing the waver in Langston's voice, he adjusts his steps. Heel toe heel toe, easing the bounce of the man in his shoulders “It was a dark, rainy, sorta misty night. Seemed to always be raining in those days. Something about the area. Rainy season I guess. Anyway… something felt wrong to me that night. I decided to check on this stone arena nearby a favorite tavern I was visiting that night. I get close enough, and I see her. Black scales glistening from the rain. A beautiful specimen laying curled up and snoozing on the stone. I just knew…. I had to kill her.”

[Langston]

Langston blinked, already unsure what to make of that. He assumed the best of his friend and let out a short chuckle. “So… you met some sort of scalekin that you just had to kill to enjoy your next drink.” he declared. “Not sure where this is going, but go on.”

[Tretesta]

“oh, not just to enjoy my next drink. To be at peace and rid the world of another evil. See, there was a time long ago… Long long ago… I was a dragon slayer, as was my father. The creature I saw on this arena with its pitch black scales was obviously a blight on the land, and needed to be removed.” Despite the dark tone the story took, there was still joy in Tret's voice, mostly because he knew how the story ended

“So… I called out to her and challenged her. And we fought desperately. I managed to get in a couple of good hits, but she was ferocious. Like a caged animal. There came a time when she knocked me over and had me pinned down, ready to kill me with those razor teeth… But then she collapsed. Seems I'd worn her down. Something about the way she fell to my side, helpless… I couldn't strike her down. So… I gave in, carried her inside, and made sure she was going to live.”

“The rest… Well… She did get me back by ripping my arm to shreds a few weeks later…”

[Langston]

Langston blinked again, much more slowly this time. The words reached his ears, but it felt like nonsense to him. He was fighting a dragon sleeping behind a tavern? Or maybe it was simply the story being told… Yes, he had heard tales of Au Ra being dismissed as heretical… in Ishgard, anyway. But, Blue doesn't have razor sharp teeth… Or does she? He couldn't remember. Although she had pinned Langston down once, her dental health wasn't quite what had him distracted. All these thoughts put a lot of weight on his mind, but more importantly, on his eyes. He was falling asleep.

Wait. Think. Langston forced his eyes open. “Where does… uh, Blue… where does she come into this story, again…?” he asked. However, he wasn't going to be conscious for the answer, as his fatigue finally set in, locking his eyes shut as he began to snooze.

[Tretesta]

“Come in? She's been there the whole time! Vicious woman… Though I suppose I started it. You know, I've never won a fight against her. For real or just play fighting…” Tret chuckled to himself, then turned his head at the sound of a snore. He blinked, then shook his head and muttered to himself “<Too much excitement? Or blood loss. He is breathing, good. Maybe he'll wake up once we ride.>” With a nod, he stepped out. They needed to get to the Cork eventually, and there was a chonk-obo waiting nearby to get them there!

[Langston]

Langston was awakened by a sudden jolt. He was secured on the back of a particularly fat Chocobo and they had reached an incline. Looking upward in confusion, he was able to spot a familiar structure… who did this spire belong to, again? So many names attributed to so many watchtowers… But, this one did click. It was Dunstan's Spire, and the only reason he knew this was because the incline was from the fallen tree that served as the bridge to their next destination. He tapped the saddle beneath him to make sure it was real. “Good Gods, I was led to believe these birds were taken care of strictly! How did this one get so fat!?”

[Tretesta]

“Hey! Derrick isn't fat, he's just a big boy! A little bigger than a Roegadyn class bird, but he's healthy enough.” As if reacting simply his his name being called, Derrick the draught chocobo sang out. He was just happy to be part of the conversation! “Blue will appreciate us giving him a stretch. And welcome back to the living, buddy. Justed gotta get up here, blast through the Dig, and we'll be there soon enough!

[Langston]

Langston sighed in relief. They were certainly in iffy territory. But, the Stropers were out of their way. The stray vile mushrooms and spriggans seemed to back away in fear of this gargantuan galloping bird stomping the grass and dirt flat. There was some sense of security to be had, for once! It didn't take very long for the Cork to finally appear in sight. A tall glass of tomato juice, perhaps some bread… he needed something to get his head back on straight.

[Tretesta]

Rather than make an overly flashy entrance, Tret reigned in the monster birb just outside of Fallgourd and the two would dismount, walking themselves and the chocobo in towards the tavern. Handing Derrick off to a porter as they passed, the taller partner threw wide his arms as he entered the tavern and called out “Aeluuin! I have come to darken your door again! I brought money this time, though. Promise!” So much for no flashy entrances

[Langston]

Langston smirked, offering a polite wave to the man behind the counter. “Though I'm certain he has money, I'll be the one paying.” he asserted. “I'll have two rolls of bread with a square of butter on the side, and your tallest glass of tomato juice. Tret, you can ask for whatever you please. Within reason, of course.”

[Tretesta]

Tret stepped up to the counter to give his order for a drink, then led his companion upstairs to find a nice quiet table. “Don't get out here as often as some other holes. Too much risk really. Beasts around the rough ground out to the west… Ixal to the east. Visit with Treespeak on occasion though.”

[Langston]

Langston seemed to throw his manners directly into the trash, seizing the first roll of bread and slathering it with butter with much haste. His initial bite was an aggressive tear into the golden roll. “Mmm.” he said, mouth still full. “Came here with Pino once. Beaten path isn't so bad.” He reached out for his tall, red drink and washed down the bite. “Not the most pleasant drink. I'm always mindful of my son's diet, you know. He seems to like it alright, but I wonder if he'll take to apple juice better and fatten himself on sweets out of resentment for my regimen. Or am I being paranoid?”

[Tretesta]

“Can't say i do much tomato juice, myself. Maybe with a splash of spirits… some pepper sauce, little black pepper, touch of lemon, dash of wor… Ahem… Paranoid? Eh, I think there is a balance. All things in moderation, neh? Even moderation. I enjoy my drink, but I don't think I'm a drunkard. Up early, work all day, occasionally kick a bug in the face. I think that deserves one drink to unwind” As if on cue, the barmaid came to the table with a small glass of dark liquor and ice, which Tret exchanged for a handful of coin and a wink “And that's for you, miss. Thank you. Ahhh… Why would he resent you? Seems too young to have those kinds of thoughts yet.”

[Langston]

“It's what happened to my father, supposedly.” he said. “I don't think I've ever mentioned this to anyone… I hear he got fat when he was young and blamed Grandfather for cooking so many good things. He only decided to lose weight when he met my mother. It's not going to happen now, I think. Two years is too young to develop any real ire. But it's certainly possible, over time…” He turned to Tret's glass, then to the barmaid walking away from them. One could notice… his eyes widening ever so slightly, a quiet huff from his nostrils, and his lips pressing against one another. After his silent approval of the other selection of baked goods at the Cork, he continued. “But, you're probably right. Once he's a little older, I can afford to spoil him a little more often.”

[Tretesta]

Tret sips his drink and muses on the taste and the tale, nodding slowly in approval of both “I think your father wanted an excuse. I like to think I'm quite good with a pan and knife, but neither Blue or me are fat lumps. If he could lose the weight for your mother, he could have always lost it, I would think. He didn't want to because it was easier to blame, perhaps.”

[Langston]

“It's hard to say. I wasn't there, obviously.” he said with a smirk. “Only he would know why, and, well… I doubt such fluffy topics on his childhood are going to be up for discussion when we next meet.” He shrugged before downing the last bite of bread with the last drops of tomato juice. “I'm feeling much better. Whenever you're ready, we'll being to head towards Coerthas.”

[Tretesta]

Tret polished off his drink at the mention of setting off again, but voiced his displeasure “We've only just sat down and know just as much about this farm as we did on that boat. But alright, we do things your way now. Think we wanna go on foot?” The glass was raised up and tipped high as the hyur tried to get the last watered bit of rum out from the ice

[Langston]

“Now, now. You may have a point, here!” he replied. “I just have a bit of a one-track mind. However, it would be prudent to gather information, first. I imagine this garden may be off the beaten path.” His eyes scanned around for the barmaid that had served Tret, partially to ask questions and partially to catch another glance at her.

[Tretesta]

Glass set upon the table again, Tret simply wandered away and downstairs. He'd stop by the front counter for a chat with Aluuin again, then turn about to scan the room. Ideally some Godsbows would be in the area, but he'd settle for an Adder to try and eek a little info out of.

[Langston]

Langston looked over the railing, down to the finished floor that reflected the hanging lamps in a blur. One fellow set his coin on the table and walked out. He seemed nervous, looking to his right and moving in a hurry. Within a few seconds, it became clear who he was looking at. A tall person, definitely Elezen. They were clad head to toe in chain of mythril; it was impossible to discern their features from this angle. Langston casually walked down the steps as the figure walked towards the counter, right next to Tret, to make an order. The Lalafell saw the figure's back, blocked by a shield that was marked by a familiar tower! This person could know something, but… he waited to see if they would take a seat, and where.

[Tretesta]

Leaned against the counter as if waiting for a drink to be made, Tret caught sight of the knight/squire/soldier/whatever she was, could never keep track of their rankings… He didn't see the shield however, but still nodded at her and gave a bilingual greeting, Ishgardian first and then Eorzean ”<Good evening> and hello! All quiet out in the field tonight?“

[Langston]

The armored woman shook her head before removing her helmet and setting it at her feet. She kept her deep brown hair in many complicated braids… easy to manage under a helmet, but perhaps a pain to do on a daily basis. “A single phrase from a dead language…” she said, clearly unimpressed and not even bothering to turn her gaze his way. ”…My watch is over for the evening. The field rats and occasional deer are hardly worth mentioning. So, yes… it was quiet, as you say.“ She still didn't even bother looking at him. Langston decided to hang back, not wanting to put pressure on the situation. All he could see was the back of her head at this angle, and although he was curious, how this woman looked like wasn't that important.

???'s Favor Tretesta: A cheap flirt. Langston: Who? Info Drop: Highly Unlikely

[Tretesta]

Unfazed by the cool attitude, Tret turns around at the counter and gives a subtle nod to Aluuin as he sits down “Dead language? Bah, some knights can't be stopped from spouting off with it, even if you ask. Hoity Toity…” he grumbles something else under his breath, but brightens up as his non-verbally requested drink was set in front of him “But good, good! seems like I always run into mite troubles heading west from here. Maybe just my luck.”

[Langston]

“Some knights.” she echoed. “Do not count me among their lot. Though I have no less pride than any of my fellow Ishgardians, I have the sense to be respectful of my company, doubly so outside of my own home.”

The woman's drink was served. It looked quite cold and completely colorless. She set down some amount of coin that seemed less than the standard cost, but the bartender seemed more than happy to take it with a nod. “The mites posed no threat on my short journey here.” She finally shot a glance at Tret with a pair of golden eyes before turning them back forward. “If you are as hardy as you appear, then I imagine heading that way would do you no harm.”

???'s Favor Tretesta: He's not doing much better… Info Drop: Highly Unlikely

[Tretesta]

“Which is why you got both hellos, miss! But I understand. Long day of work and all that.” Tret rattled the ice in his glass for a moment then took a sip, using the time to ponder a bit. With a content sigh, he lowered the drink and nodded. time to go for broke “I'll be fine, sure. Got a cart to deliver that I'm more worried about, neh? I don't think its too far out from here though, told me I can't miss it.”

[Langston]

“Best of luck to you, then.” she said, taking a few gulps of her hard drink.

Langston watched on, scratching his head in confusion. 'What the hells is he doing…?' he thought to himself. 'Are they even talking?' He walked closer to them and took a seat at the nearest empty table, asking the closest server for a glass of water to continue a much closer observation.

[Tretesta]

“One of us is” Tret would think at Langston, if either of them were telepathic. But alas, it was not to be, so he didn't. Instead, he decided there wasn't anything to lose and everything to gain “Appreciate that! I might need it.” He reached in and dug in his pocket. Out came a scrap of paper with writing on it. Well… Sorta. What he tossed onto the counter close to his new friend was a loosely folded scrap sheet with Tret's own illegible/foreign script on it. He pointed at it and shook his head “This is what I get for directions. Stopped in here for a bite and some hope before I get lost. Any chance that means more to you than it does me?”

[Langston]

The woman squinted hard at whatever this scribbled note was supposed to be. At the very least, some of the letters seemed to make sense… she pieced it together, just barely. However, her brow furrowed, and now she was looking at Tret dead-on. “This should not be.” she said firmly. “If these directions are correct, then they would be leading to my post. On a day that we expect no deliveries.”

Oh, this wasn't going well. Langston stood from his seat, trying to come up with a lie of his own. “Did the hard drinks help?” he asked as he walked up to the pair. “No matter what I do, I can't get the smell of chocobo droppings out of my nose! I can't believe they'd make us ship so much!” Yeah… extra fertilizer. Perhaps they were needing an emergency shipment.

???'s Favor Tretesta: Borderline hostile! Langston: Incredibly suspicious! Info Drop: Even More Unlikely

[Tretesta]

Tret wore a genuine look of confusion as the soldier stared him down. Not because he was actually sent on a delivery, but because the paper couldn't have had what she said on it. Did he give her a Treespeak note by mistake? He turned as Langston joined them. that wasn't too hard to pick up on. Maybe no yelling this time. “I'd tell you it gets better after you've hauled bird shit as long as I have, but you really just start to ignore it, buddy. I won't blame.you I'd this is your last run with me.” He looks back up to the highly suspicious woman and shrugs “Your post? No no no, We're going to some kind of ranch or farm something. What would soldiers want with a half tonne of chocobo manure?” He snatches up the paper, crumples it, and stuffs it into his pocket “Goddamned clerk can't write for shit…”

[Langston]

“You are talking about the border garden.” she said, interjecting. “A garden I am occasionally tasked with patrolling around. From my understanding, they do not receive shipments today. However… I suppose this could be an emergency, and I dare not interfere with it.” She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Once you head north, you will find a barely noticeable road headed eastward. Take note of how healthy the shrubbery appears there. Head down that road and you will reach your destination.” She waved a hand and leaned over the counter. “Now, please leave me be. The both of you really do smell.”

They didn't. At least, Langston could say he didn't. It seemed the power of suggestion, combined with her distaste of the situation, made things just a little easier!

[Tretesta]

“North… East path… healthy bush… Why couldnt he have just written that down?” Finishing off his drink, Tret gets up to his feet and brushes himself off. Turning to Langston, he gives a shrug and advises “Suppose we better be off then. We're late as is, but at least we won't be lost.” Tret looked back over his shoulder, noting the shield on her back, and giving his thanks

“Appreciate your help. I'll certainly make sure to let your house know how respectful of company you were next time I pass through the Pillars!” Not wanting to waste further time with the pain in the ass, he gave Aluuin a signal and ushered Langston out the door quickly

[Langston]

Suddenly, the outdoors felt like the greatest relief from that stressful situation. The duo went around the aetheryte and onto the rough roads to the west. “Never seen a woman that uptight, before. I'm suddenly reminded of Luna.” he said. “I guess we'll travel towards the terrible tundra until we see green. I can already feel the chill of Coerthas.”

[Tretesta]

“I am respectful of my company, doubly so outside my home” Tret laughed as they drew away from the cork and towards their ride for the evening “Nah, Luna knows she's uptight at least. That one… Bah, no matter. I think the rest of the night is best if we're not seen by person or bug though. Given how hostile she got thinking about us going to this farm…”

[Langston]

“The last thing I want is to be on House Dzemael's list of notorious characters they want dead… Do you think the trip will be easy?”

[Tretesta]

“If we get moving before our soldier friend decides maybe we didn't smell enough like chocobo shit. The trip should be fine, my friend… Depending on how close we want to get once we're there? Less easy. Derrick can get us most of the way. We'll want to send him off and take to foot once the road turns north I think…” Tret would grave the aforementioned chocobos reigns and leap up into the saddle with a practised motion. He then leaned over and offered a hand of support “But what's a little danger for all the sweet waxy popotoes we can steal?”

[Langston]

Langston accepted his aid and rose to take his seat on the saddle. Being awake certainly made this ride more comfortable. “We're not going to steal from them, Tret. We're merely going to research their techniques and copy them to maintain a steady crop of our own, rather than be beholden to a bunch of tea drinking snobs and men in uniform!” He smiled, realizing how much more selfish and sinister that all really sounded.

One could feel the chill of the north beginning to blow their way on the path to their destination. “Bah, to the hells with this cold…” he muttered. “Think it's a good idea to hoof it from here?”

[Tretesta]

“Sounds like we're stealing something. And if we can come away from this with a little extra for our kitchen? Well, I'm not gonna say no to that either.”

On the suggestion to dismount, Derrick was pulled off the path and deeper Into the woods. Slipping off the saddle and then helping Lang off, Tret turns afterwards to the saddlebags. Conspicuous yellow helmet goes in, a simple dark green hooded cloak comes out “so… You said something back there about watching… How long are we planning to settle in and watch? And want somethkng to cover with?”

[Langston]

“Yes, I'll gladly take something.” he said, shaking off a chill. “We'll give it roughly half a bell. There probably isn't much to plopping some popotoes in the ground, so we'll have to look around for any clues as to how they're able to keep them growing…”

Past the seemingly endless trees was a clearing. Before them was a farm, the ever-so-humbly named “Border Garden”. Around the area were familiar emblems… Dzemael, Adders, Flames, Maelstrom… it was apparent that everyone was getting a slice of popoto but Langston! Curiosity aflame, he led the march forward after seeing that there was not a single soul tending to anything at all at this hour.

[Tretesta]

After a moment of digging around, Tret found a smaller cloak, though quite a bit large for Langston. This was solved with a quick “Field hem”: poking sticks through the cloth and drawing up the trailing edge. Once Langston was outfitted, they were indeed off.

The taller man immediately went on the stalk once their tree cover began to thin out, keeping close and low behind Langston. The two would be mere shadows in the grassy field, moving slowly towards the planting grounds. Voice a bare whisper, Tret called ahead “Find a barn with a light maybe…”

[Langston]

“Right.” he whispered back. His movement slowed as he closed his eyes, trying to rely on his sensitive ears to pick up something, anything. In the silence of the night, he could hear the creak of a wooden door. Langston's eyes opened again, following the sound as best he could before coming upon a wooden shack, one that looked like it was meant for storage rather than to have anyone living in it.

As Langston slowly swung the door open, his nose was assaulted by the aromas in the darkness. Some were quite foul, but there was a hint of something there. Crushed organic materials, compost… He took in a big, dramatic whiff and nodded to himself. “Tomatoes.” he said, matter-of-factly. “You smell tomatoes, right?”

[Tretesta]

Tret assumed lookout post, gently pushing Langston along inside when the door opened, and slipping himself through as well, watching out and listening as best he could in the night. at the questioning, he paused and gave a cursory sniff ”…Lot of smells. Maybe? careful in here…..“

[Langston]

Langston checked on the other side of the door. There was a lamp, conveniently enough. However, it seems as though it wasn't able to be lit. He couldn't find anything to start a fire within it. “Oh, for the love of…” he grumbled. His solution to this problem was… foolish, at best. Putting his finger on the candle's wick, Langston began to concentrate. “If my fool of a brother can do this, then certainly I can…”

Of course, nothing happened. From the outside looking in, all one could see was just a dumb Lalafell touching a candle.

[Tretesta]

All quiet outside, Tret poked his head back in to watch the frustrated chef. He was full amused as Langston just… touched the wick. Impressive. Tret patted his own chest, then ass, then reached down for a hip pouch for a rock and knife. “Here, hold it up. Not sure what you're…” With a soft flash, stone was struck against steel and sparks flew off onto the candle, hopefully working better than… well… molesting it.

[Langston]

The sparks lit the wick and illuminated the lantern. Langston looked up with a deadpan expression upon his face against the glow of the flame. ”…Well, my way was going to be far more impressive. Given the time.“ he said flatly. He brought the light to the various sacks that lined the shelves of the shed and nodded with a smirk. “I knew it. Tomatoes. Dzemael Tomatoes.” He sighed and shook his head. “They're a fine crop, as much as it pains me to admit it. But, they seem to mix it into the ground, here.”

The sacks farther down the line were all soil, fresh from The Black Shroud. “Given the proximity to Gridania and this little snippet of info, it must be really convenient to place this farm, here. Bordered between both regions…”

Outside, nearby, there were sounds of scurrying back and forth that grew closer to their position.

[Tretesta]

Tret turned from the fire, looking towards and then approaching the sacks in question. dipping a hand in, the raised up a small amount to feel and smell, nodding “This is local, yes. Though perhaps…” He stopped mid thought and slipped back to the door. after a silent moment, he pointed at the lantern and shook his head sternly as he listened to the movement outside. The knife still in his hand was flipped over to a reverse hold. Something had Tret on edge.

[Langston]

Langston blew out the lantern and peeked out from behind the door. The guard that appeared before them was no guard at all, but a field rat, and a rather corpulent one, at that. In its mouth was a juicy tomato. Upon seeing Tret, it did not play the role of coward, but rather the one of a wild beast, dropping the produce and hissing loudly and violently at him.

Langston stepped out upon hearing that shrill shriek, realizing that reasoning would never work in this situation. “This must be his personal buffet…!” he said upon seeing the chunky rodent, drawing his own knife in preparation.

[Tretesta]

“So… good dirt, tomatoes, and rat shit. Yeah, I could see all of that making for a good growing space. Think you've seen enough, buddy, or want to keep digging around?” Tret relaxed visibly as the rat challenged them. Lowering his knife, he went for the intimidate, jerking forward suddenly and stomping the ground in front of the beast to try and scare it off

[Langston]

The loud hissing suddenly stopped and was replaced by a look of complete horror. 'Man, I don't even fuckin' live here.' thought the rat before it scurried its hefty body in the complete opposite direction, eventually disappearing the in the darkness.

Langston blinked and nodded. “Yes, uh… I think I've seen enough. We should just go home before we end up picking fights with another round of wild animals…”

[Tretesta]

“Indeed. Maybe we should take some supplies to test this new knowledge?” Tret looked back into the shed, then out into the quiet farmstead “Surely they wont miss a little bit of dirt and vegetable gone lost. save us some money and time later…”

[Langston]

“We're not thieves, Tret!” he said, pausing for a moment. “Well, I'm not a thief. You're starting to sound like one, though. But, anyway! Some farmhand had to crush fruit, dirt, and fresh shite into that material for some meager amount of coin, and I would dare not spit on his efforts.” He started to walk back, clutching to his cloak tightly, not really looking to entertain the idea any further.

[Tretesta]

Tret shrugs as the idea was rejected, following after Langston closely without argument. It had been a relatively quiet event, made good sense not to tempt fate further into providing an additional curious soul. Once they hit the treeline and got some yalms in, Tret stood up fully and pulled his hood back, speaking normally again “You know… We might want to try a blend with and without the manure. And perhaps… The dirt out on the island is supposed to be very good, yes? Maybe its not this dirt, but the tomatoes…”

[Langston]

“Yes… it's going to take some time to get it right.” he said with a smile. “But, hey, we've got two separate gardens to work with! We should get a linkpearl to trade information more easily…”

[Tretesta]

“Of course. Between this and your rock enhanced tomato sauce, I think we have the beginning of something very interesting. I'm very much in for this.”

A once they were decidedly far enough from the farm to be (less) suspicious, Tret places his fingers in his mouth and gave a sharp whistle. A light tremor would be felt underfoot and the sound of vegetation giving way to a monster would herald Derrick's return. What appeared to be a bright yellow appendage was hanging from the side of his break, but quickly chomped up as if the bird had forgotten a piece of a recent meal. Tret stood hands on hips, and stared sternly at the bird “Bothering the Ziz again?” This was simply answered with a happy WARK

[Langston]

Langston looked up at Derrick, arms folded with a puzzled expression on his face. “I, uh… I think he was more than a bother to the Ziz…” he said, moving cautiously away from the bird's beak. And thus, the ride home began, away from the chill of the frozen north.

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