fandomhigh | A New You, Tuesday, Period Two

Today, class, you were meeting in the Danger Shop outside a large cave entrance. Fjord was there leaning against a boulder, arms crossed over his chest.

He was smirking.

"First off," he drawled, "I want to congratulate Yelden on taking initiative and becoming the new face of the party in conversation."

Really, if it had to be the fighter or the rogue, Fjord wanted the one who wasn't just acting in self-interest. Though watching this whole campaign slowly snowball into a nightmare of consequences had been fun in its own way, too.

"For the rest of you, this means you've got two homeless kobolds and a wyrmling all looking for an assist in clearing out the cave of the violent creature that shredded the wyrmling's wing and is keeping him from going back home. Remember, for the more monetarily driven of you, that there's still a handsome reward back in town for keeping the dragon from wandering too close to the outskirts, and," he nodded toward the wyrmling, whose good wing was mantled and whose tail was thrashing behind him as he peered into the cave, "dragons keep treasure troves."

Just throwing that out there for the roguish of you.

"So," he smirked at the party. "In you go."

Fjord enjoyed this entirely too much.

[OOC: Open!]

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People were going to have to learn how to work with the two of them someday. Lucky them!

"Pretty much." There was an awkward pause, as if Beau had just realized how sincere she'd kind of sounded there. "Or, you know, just get used to cleaning up the mess."

Poor bastards.

"Gods know this lot is exceptional at leaving behind messes."

Said the man who would one day lead his party on a jaunt around the sea while war brewed back in Wildemount.

The party that got themselves banned from an island full of pirates, no less.

"I mean . . they're kids, right?"

Beau, you weren't that much older than them. Also, technically, Keyleth was older than both you and Fjord.

Edited 2019-03-12 20:12 (UTC)

"Some more than others," Fjord agreed, "but all-in-all, yeah."

Some were very much kids.

"Better they make these messes in here than out there, I suppose."

Et tu, Fjord?

"You ever think maybe it isn't all that effective, though?" Beau asked, her tone curious but slightly distracted. "Because there aren't any real consequences once they're out of here?"

"I'd be lying if I said the thought didn't cross my mind," Fjord allowed. "Still... the handful who want to learn will learn, and the ones who don't... hopefully at least have a good time."

"Shit, if I had something like this when I was in school I might not have ditched class so much," Beau remarked. "I'm like, super jealous.+

"This would've been nice to have as a kid," Fjord agreed, smiling a little crookedly. "These kids have no clue how good they have it."

A whole scenario of things trying to kill them.

Things that couldn't.

That last part was the novel bit.

"Yeah." Beau kind of couldn't help wondering what might have gone differently in her younger years if she'd had something like this, and that was a train of thought that threatened to get really maudlin, so . . .

"I'm not old enough to have kids-these-days conversations yet, dude."

"Fair enough," Fjord replied with a grin and a shake of his head. "I suppose I'm not, really, either."

... Well. Kind of. By half-orc standards, 'thirties' was more or less coming on middle age.

There was a depressing thought.

"I dunno, man." Beau gestured vaguely toward his temple, a suspicious look on her face. "I think you have some new grey hairs coming in, maybe."

Stop making it worse, Beau.

Aaand there went a hand, reaching up to run through his hair.

Yeah. Those were definitely some grays. Fjord liked to think of them as distinguished.

"If I do, I'm blaming the rogue."

Damn you, Jatila.

"That's fair," Beau told him. "They make you look kind of badass, but in like a stuffy old fashioned kind of way."

She was so good at compliments. So good.

Fjord felt so complimented. Truly. He gave her a momentary side-eye, and then smiled crookedly and shook his head.

"Stuffy old fashioned, huh? I'm not sure if you're calling me regal or just pretentious, now," he teased. "I'll take regal. At least there's the potential for badass somewhere in that."

Hidden away.

". . . or distinguished," Beau amended, far too late. "That works too, I guess."

See Fjord. See Fjord snort, and shake his head, and be amused.

"Yeah, I'll take it," he settled on. "One distinguished half-orc."

Now there was a combination of words rarely spoken together.

Bo the Breaker would disagree, Fjord. (So would Dr. Dranzel, for that matter, probably, but wrong continent.)

"I mean," Beau said after a moment, "one of us has to be, and it's not gonna be me."

Two other half-orcs who had likely also put a lot of effort into making those two words sit neatly side-by-side, true!

"Yeah," Fjord mused, looking her over. "Green's not really your color."

Beau flipped him off with both hands, but she was chuckling silently.

"I think I could make it work," she said, "but nah. Works for you, though."

"I should hope so," Fjord mused. "I don't want to have to put on a disguise every hour otherwise."

"It's cool that you can do that, though." Beau wasn't mildly jealous at all, no.

"Yeah, it comes in handy," Fjord noted, and then jerked his head toward the danger shop door. "Especially if I want to go to the mainland."

Since... people here generally didn't come in green.

"Which isn't a problem for me," Beau said, shrugging, "so it sorta balances out?"

"Seems like it all comes out even in the end," Fjord agreed.

Just wait until they needed to paint folks up for a trek through the jungle, though.

A New You, Tuesday, Period Two

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