Second Fiance

Summary (Svarshan): I've never known anyone to be near-punched so many times. o.O; Had some fun with this one, and was able to explore the language barrier a little more. Jibbom was classic in his Sandy harassment, and kicked us off to a good start. Afraid I was fading at the end, though, so apologies all around. :/

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--<* Castle District - Feren Road *>--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

Many of the buildings and towers of this area extend out of the Inner City 
Walls and there are many criss crossing roadways, bridges and multiple levels 
as well as mercantile traffic between various places of business and smaller 
airship docks which in turn keep air-traffic somewhat busy here as well. All 
in all This is quite obviously a well-heeled part of the city, and the 
smallest of cutpurses would be a fool to ply his trade here. Constant guard 
patrols and the presence of lawmen insure that even the most vulnerable 
looking of individuals can dwell here unmolested. Many of Alexandria's 
business owners, well-to-do's and nobles make their homes here although the 
true noble district begins further north

-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-- Contents --=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Jibbom          Steel Von Ironblood, Bane of the Night.               0s   5h
Emir            Mocha-skinned man w/ a daring grin & impeccable taste 55s  1h
Svarshan        Be a brightscale! Chomp a demon!                      5s   9h
Sandy           The HIPpest elf ever. Practically a HIPpy.            23s  11h
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--= Exits -=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-
Myrrish Consulate <MC>    Courthouse <CH>           Nenesse Avenue <W>
Mountain Road <E>         Engineer's Row <S>        The Skygate <N>
-=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=--=-

It's Eliday, Aestry 29 20:47:24 1014. The full moon is up. The tide is low and ebbing.

Heavy rain drenches you in the dark as it falls from grey-black clouds, driven by a howling east wind.

The rain falling from above has kept most people without business to attend to off the streets. But Jibbom is not 'most people'. The halfling marches towards the courthouse, clutching a piece of parchment which has been rendered nearly unreadable by the rain. He is undaunted by this, head held high as he marches onward.

At the foots of the courthouse, at the very heavy, marble foot of the courthouse, a tired-looking figure rests in the rain. Svarshan rests on the steps, one leg out in front of him and the other holding a (now soaking) lunch that he eats slowly, methodically, out there in the rain. As Jibbom makes his determined approach, he glances up and gives a partial wave. A larger figure stands beside him, standing over ten feet in height. She occasionally glances down at the delicious item he so obviously holds.

And fidgets.

Whether or not Emir's leg has healed by now, it doesn't matter one bit: he's completely used to using his stylish cane now, and it's just such a useful prop, he wouldn't abandon it for the world. In fact, it's useful right now, as he whaps people aside, as he races squealing through the /horrible, terrible rain/ toward the nice safe dry courthouse. "My /hair/!" he wails. "These robes are custom tailored!!" He's going to bowl right past Jibbom.

And Sandy emerges from the Courthouse, actually, steps out of it with an irritated look on her face. "Well. That's *one* more fine paid up," she says, distractedly. "At least they didn't sentence me to jail again."

Before beginning his ascent up the courthouse steps, Jibbom's attention is snagged by the wave. He returns it with a bright grin, undaunted by the cold rain. "Ah, hello there, lizardy fellow and tall lady! You wouldn't happen to be in the business of accepting official petitions on behalf of the courthouse, would you?" That is presumably what the soggy illegible paper in his hands is supposed to be. His attention is quickly snagged by Sandy, who is met with an even brighter grin. "Why, hello there, Backup Fiancee Number Two! Good to see you. You'll sign Steel Von Ironblood's petition for righteous justice, won't you?" He says this with all confidence.

Of course he has completely failed to notice Emir thus far, standing in perfect position to be bowled over.

Fidget. Twitch.

Stare.

As soon as Svarshan jerks, glancing from the distracted Emir to...oh. He relaxes again, but not before Srassha's reached down, and neatly...

Plucked...

The bit of casserole from his hand. The soggy, rain-soaked casserole.

"...it issss a habit," he says to Sandy as she emerges, the words inadequate for what he's trying to say. But he's not so good with words. And as Emir rushes that way, he begins, slowly, to stand and answer Jibbom, though he'll by no means be out of the way in time.

"...You realize, of course, I just got out of the courthouse for murdering someone who asked me to sign a peotition, right?" says Sandy, innocently, to Steel Von Ironblood. That smile on her face is not really a nice smile at all. *At all*.

"Really?" Jibbom frowns a little at Sandy's explanation. "You should have gotten me to defend you! Steel Von Ironblood's skills as orator and advocate are known far and wide. I would charge a backup fiancee only a small fraction of my normal fee." The point is entirely missed.

"I am not your fiancee. Am I going to have to punt oyu across the city? I am going to have to punt you across the city." Sandy seems distracted, a little, and irritable. She mutters something to herself and then casts a glower at Svarshan. He's right there, after all. "Stop me from punting him."

Slurp. Munch, munch, munch. The soggy, sad casserole vanishes into Srassha's jaws, with only a splat or two onto the steps. Svarshan glances from her and back to the sildanyari, to the lucht. ...and opens his muzzle. ...closes it. And then the enormity of what she just asked him to do settles in, and a look of solemn, quiet shock settles over his features.

"No, of course you aren't!" Jibbom agrees with Sandy, laughing brightly. "Backup fiancee. While you are shown spirit, I'm afraid there are a few names on the list ahead of you. But who knows? Luck may come your way. Anyways, sign my petition." The soggy paper mess is held out by the smiling halfling.

Svarshan lashes out and grabs the back of Sandy's shirt.

Sandy is already advancing on Jibbom with clear intent to mangle him. She is grabbed by Svarshan, though, and she simply stops because, you know, the lizard is pretty strong.

Jibbom just holds out the drenches glob of paper towards the rampaging Sandy, blissfully oblivious to the possibility that she might wish anything but the best for him.

Svarshan lets go a slow, slow breath, and then looks straight at Jibbom. His expression is solemn, as quiet as rock. And with all the seriousness in the world, he says, "Run."

In a stroke of luck for all involved, Emir has tripped and fallen flat on his face, and upon getting up, he's pretty much running in circles and wailing, trying to figure out how to find cover when he's dizzy and confused. "ACCURSED RAAAAAIN"

Srassha continues munching on her delicious, soggy bits of casserole. A great drool-bit falls to the earth, and splatters like the frankenraindroplet that it is. Probably right next to Emir.

Jibbom's irrepressable smile slowly turns into a confused frown as he considers the very wise warning from Svarashan. "So... she /doesn't/ want to sign my petition?" He asks with great confusion.

It is perhaps fortunate for Jibbom that Emir is here, because the faboo Emir earns Sandy's attention, distracting her from her desperate need to punt the Tarienite. She stops. Looks at him. Stares.

Svarshan looks over as the sildanyari shifts position, and after a moment, drops his hand. And clears his throat. "Petition?" he asks, with all the words he can muster. He's terrible at them. He holds a hand out to Jibbom.

Jibbom is once again easily distracted. When Svarshan shows some interest in his petition, he hops over and hands it over. The rain has made it basically unreadable. "Yes indeed. It is to address a serious deficency in the state of this otherwise fair nation. May I count on your support?"

"I...petition," the sith'makar echoes. He reaches up to rub at his brow, then looks down at the...blurry, blurry inksplotches. And squints, and tilts his head to the side, and for a person looking at him directly, for just a moment, a real moment, fear shows in the corners of his eyes.

• SLURRRP!* goes Srassha.

Drool.

So Sandy, of course, is now lunging at Jibbom with Svarshan being distracted. She seizes him by his shirt, grabs him, turns him upside down, and begins to shake him. "LET US BE CLEAR HERE. If you call me a fiancee of ANY KIND, EVER, I WILL THROW YOU OFF THE HIGH BRIDGE. I CAN THROW VERY FAR. IS THIS CLEAR?"

Jibbom goes wide-eyed with surprise and fear as he finds himself hoisted up. His limbs flail in a desperate and fruitless attempt to free himself from the shaking. "Wait a minute..." He looks even more terrified. "The courthouse... oh no! I see what happened here!" Has Jibbom finally realized the obvious? "... You were getting a marriage license? No! Steel Von Ironblood isn't ready to be tied down!" Of course not.

Svarshan's claws tighten against the paper. And that yell? That yell is all it takes. The tension along his shoulders snaps, and the heavy creature begins to pace back and forth, and up and down the steps. His tail lashes behind him before...something.

He makes up his mind, or appears to, and stomps right over and shoves the paper between the struggling, yelling pair. And, "Read," he rasps. "What doessss this sssay?"

So Sandy looks around for a moment. It takes a little time, but she marches with Jibbom over to a cart going by and stops the cart. She pulls a barrel off the back, tears it open with one hand (really), ripping the nails right out, drops him into the barrel of pickles head first.

"Gwaabgh!" That's the sound a halfling makes when getting stuffed into a pickle barrel. His legs flail in a comical sight which is becoming far too common as he ineffectively attempts to escape the barrel.

Svarshan yanks the paper back, still tense. He doesn't really /register/ then that Sandy's shoving the flailing Jibbom into the pickle barrel. What he registers is there is something Bad, right in front of him. He glances down at the paper and after a moment..."Sssandy, can you..." And then.

Okay. The rest of it filters through.

"What are you. Doing?"

"...I am pickling Jibbom." She pulls him out of the barrel, then, and adds, "Okay. Now you're soaked with pickle juice." She sets him back down on the ground. "I need to let you go before the paladins yell at me and make me go back to jail."

Svarshan just stares at her mutely. And then Jibbom.

Jibbom coughs and sputters, spitting a glob of pickle brine onto the ground. It takes him a moment to regain his breath and look up at the much taller people around him. "... Well, at least the rain will clean my robes!" It takes a lot to dampen the halfling's optimism. "... So, is this some Alexandrian wedding custom I'm unfamiliar with, or...?"

And then the paladin sucks in his breath. He folds the paper roughly and puts it under his arm.

...and walks towards Srassha.

"...I hate you," is what Sandy says to Jibbom, defeated by the halfling's optimism. Temporarily. She sets him down.

Jibbom pouts at Sandy's response. "... My father told me that newlywed bliss always lasts at /least/ a year before resentment and loathing sets in. Things move quicker in Alexandria." He waves his arms when set down, invoking magic to cleanse the pickle brine from his clothes and hair.

At a thump to her shoulder, Srassha grumbles, then hunkers down. Except, well, he's stopped again. And this time the sith'makar's silence carries volumes. Heavy volumes. Because?

Just as he'd been about to put his foot in the stirrup, he'd looked down, and seen his saddlebags.

The empty. Saddle. Bags.

He looks from the saddle bags to Srassha.

Sometimes. You don't need to be able to say a thing.

"We are NOT GETTING MARRIED, HALFLING!" Sandy yells at Jibbom. Then she glares at Svarshan. Just glares at him. Somehow, this is all HIS FAULT. "Did you cosnpire to do this? Filthy paladins,"S he sniffs. "Always causing trouble. *Always*."

"Married?"

Bedraggled, soaked, miserable Emir has stumbled that-a-way and winds up beside Svarshan and Srassha. "I've never heard of a halfling marrying an elf. That'd make quite a story." And yet, even the prospect of a ~story~ can't lift the poor bard's spirits. Sniff. He looks to Srassha. "Hello, clever girl," he greets in mourning.

Jibbom continues to peer at Sandy with an utterly uncomprehending expression. "... So you're saying the marriage is already official? Alexandrian law is so strange. I would've figured they'd at least make me sign something..."

Svarshan clears his throat, after a time of looking at Srassha. "We are going to the Felwood," he says after a moment, voice Very Grumpy. "And then I will sslaughter demons until morale improvesss. And when it improves, I am getting very drunk." Pause, pause, as he yanks the stirrup, and then snaps up into the saddle. "You are welcome to join me."

And, of course, the whole, dramatic speech is ruined by Srassha shoving her muzzle lovingly into Emir's hands. Someone. UNDERSTANDS ME.

(New BB message (3/123) posted to 'Plot Announcements' by Jibbom: Dead or Alive (OPEN))

"...no! We are NOT MARRIED," says Sandy, loudly, pointing a finger at Jibbom. She ssays this loudly. VERY loudly. And irritably. "NOT AT ALL. DO YOU HEAR ME?" She's getting icnreasingly agitated.

Jibbom scratches his head, looking up at Sandy with a glum, confused expression. "... So you're staying we're still just engaged? I'm getting some mixed messages here."

"..RAAUUUUGH." Sandy throws her hands up in sheer frustration. "GOD. DAMN. TARIENITES!"

Svarshan eyes the two of them as he makes his way around. Like two dangerous, lit pieces of TNT.

Wide. Berth.

Like Sandy's Hips.