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       #Post#: 100--------------------------------------------------
       A Timely Arrival
   DIR By: High Captain Song
       Date: July 15, 2023, 3:11 pm
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       Setting: The following took place during a "fun raid" on the
       Caravanserai Market on July 15. 2023.
       -- Within the Market Square, a crossroads for all the main
       avenues of the Caravanserai --
       In retrospect, he would blame himself for this. And not just
       because he always had a tendency to blame himself for any ill
       fortune where he might have made a difference. Or more of one.
       It's that damned heroic instinct his Mate chides him for, even
       as she loves him for his need to try and help people even when
       it is not convenient. Especially when it is not convenient.
       For it came to pass that the Skald of Kassau, having grown bored
       with his vigil guarding the Crossroads Docks, decided to return
       to the Caravanserai Market to see how things were going with the
       construction of their new store. And somewhere on the long wagon
       ride, he thought to himself of how bored he was and thought "I
       wish things were a bit more interesting."
       One should never make wishes idly. One never knows what they
       might yield. It's a fact the Skald of Kassau knows well. Did his
       wish to possess a certain beauteous slave with fire in her soul
       to match her hair not elevate him, in time, to a loftier
       position than he ever dreamed in his boyhood games of adventure
       and glory? Aye, they did. Yet still he wanders and wonders and
       thinks thoughts he should know better to voice.
       I was just arrived in the Market Square when the fighting broke
       out., clad in simple sailor's garments. Nothing to mark my
       station but the cittern slung over my back. I drew the
       silver-hilted double-edged rapier that hunt by my right side -
       the wicked blade I called Mercy. My only other obvious weapon is
       a long hunting knife 12 inches long hanging on my left belt. My
       hidden weapons include two three-inch blades of Kassau steel
       sheathed up my sleeves and two daggers of similar make tucked
       into my boots.
       I make my way through the streets as best I can. Thankfully, the
       raiders are easy to pick out as the ones fighting
       indiscriminately compared to those defending what they have. I
       chip in where I can, but I'm not looking for trouble, trying to
       make my way to the site of my shop and, hopefully, my Mate.
       ***
       Most don't think of the Caste of Singers being good fighters.
       And most of them are not, compared to the Warriors or the
       Assassins. But I am a Skald of the North, where Men have little
       use for the limits of castes and most men take it in turn to
       learn many crafts, if only because it is difficult to maintain a
       homestead without knowing something of building, healing,
       sailing and fighting. Too, while there is a general prohibition
       shielding Singers from enslavement or mistreatment on the roads
       between cities, there are some outlaws who care little for the
       superstation against plucking a songbird or the practical point
       that endangering gleemen is a good way to bring bad attention to
       yourself.
       It is for this reason that I do so well in the chaotic press as
       individual raiders run around willy-nilly. Or is that
       nilly-willy? Well, in either case there is much running around
       and the last sight two of them see is a man with a cittern on
       his back and a sword in his hand grinning madly.
       It is only the third fellow that gives me trouble. Closer to
       seven feet tall than six and roughly half that broad across, at
       least compared to my more slender 6'1" frame. He is a bear and I
       am a fox. He is Thor and I am Loki. In a fair fight, I would
       stand little chance.
       Fortunately, I am a scoundrel and inclined to avoid fair fights
       that don't favor me. With theatrical flair, I gasp and point off
       to something behind the raider and to the right.
       "LOOK BEHIND YOU! A THREE HEADED JIT!"
       It is hard to say what makes the burly warrior freeze up - the
       sheer randomness of what I said or the fact that I bothered
       speaking at all. In any case, he stops in his tracks just long
       enough for me to launch a desperate lunge at his chest., as I
       hear a shrill scream from inside my destination. The shop
       immediately behind the burly raider.
       ***
       Frode: *** rolls [1] 10 sided die (1) ***  Odd indicates a
       successful attack.
       ***
       The blade runs through the burly man's chest cleanly, if not
       easily. Unfortunately, his bulk is such that as he falls
       backwards, he takes me with him, and I have to stand atop his
       chest and pull to get Mercy back. I've just freed it when I hear
       that shrill scream again and the sound of breaking glass as a
       figure goes out the window and into the streets. For a moment, I
       panic, until I think that the voice I feared was screaming is a
       resplendent alto and that had the tone of a tenor trying to
       reach the mezzo-soprano range.
       I look to the street and see a lean raider groaning as the last
       of his life's blood begins to paint the pavement. Most of it is
       coming from a wound in his chest but there's also a few minor
       cuts that would be easily treated were it not for that large
       chunk of missing flesh.
       And that is when I see her, framed in the broken window. My
       Muse. My Valkyrie. My Love. And she is bloody furious.
       Thankfully, it is not with me, for a change.
       I smile and wave. "Tal, my Fire. I see you have defending the
       hearth under control. I think I'm going to go play with the
       neighbor boys a bit."
       She rolls her eyes but I catch that sleenish smile as she wipes
       her own short sword clean. "I love you, Maestro. Don't die or
       I'll kill you."
       And with that I make my way into the side-streets, to see what
       else needs doing and what other idiots need killing.
       ***
       (At this point, the raiding was largely over, and had erupted
       into random silliness, with slaves trying to rescue the gianni
       kittens being kicked by the raiders or throwing pies at their
       would be capturers.)
       Frode
       By this point the raiders are fleeing and most of the fair folk
       are focused on putting out fires and stopping their friends from
       "helping" recover their goods that have been knocked into the
       street. I spy several familiar looking slaves holding the
       kittens and wander over to inspect the small beasts. And the
       kittens as well.
       "Well hello there... are these Jellicle Cats?"
       Seren
       She had stuffed some kicked kittens into a bag for safe keeping.
       When he approached and asked about them she wanted to hide the
       bag but he'd already seen it so no use in that. "I'm not sure,
       Master. The raiders were kicking them around so I gathered up as
       many as I could find. I think only one is hurt but I can look at
       it a little more once things calm down." She really wasn't sure
       where they had come from but they were gianni, so maybe they
       lived in the market or someone had them to sell.
       Frode
       I nod as I idly muse that there are all manner of Jellicle Songs
       for Jellicle Cats that might be written. A while score of songs
       about the secret lives of gianni!
       No. No. Such thoughts are libel to get a bard shot. Out of a
       ballista.
       I chuckle at the squirming beasties in the sack. Only slightly
       less cute than the squirming anima-loving slave before me. "It
       is good. Well, if you need a healer's touch, my slave is a fair
       touch with animals. And my shop could use one of these little
       ones to keep the urts away."
       Seren
       She grinned to him. "I think that would be a good place for
       one." She reached into the bag to pull a ginger one out for him
       and held it up. "Like this one!"It was dirty and squirmy but
       seemed healthy enough. It likely hadn't been kicked, just chased
       around.
       Frode
       I chuckle and take the beast into hand for a moment, scritching
       it behind the ears. "Ha-ha! He is quite the lively one." I say
       evenly as the little beast's claws dig into my hand and draw
       blood - my first injury in the day's combat. "Still, maybe it
       would be best if you brought them all by the shop later once
       things are calmed down. Malora gave me Hell the last time I
       bought a slave without checking with her. I can only imagine
       she'll be just as ill pleased about a gianni." I smile
       apologetically. "A shame I'm no raider. I could take the whole
       lot of you home and save you the trouble."
       Karl
       Hearing this The old merchant spreads a smile from hearing this
       turn of events '' Perhaps i may be of assistance , Frode '' His
       low voice sounded out with the gruffness that his voice held due
       to the rough life the merchant had lived up until now '' I can
       take the creatures under my care and allow the girl to feed them
       once i get the food to keep them good an strong '' He said as he
       leaned against the side of the building near the Alleyway that
       Frode was in
       Frode
       I nod to the blind merchant then think better of it and speak
       up. "If she agrees with that, Karl, I have no objection. You'll
       have to excuse me though. I have a Mate to check up on myself."
       I smile to the girl and go back on my merry way..
       Karl
       Send Malora my greetings Frode '' Karl quickly spoke out to
       Frode with a smile giving him a friendly smile
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