kevintheradioguy
Salt
[some map and lore goes here]
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Fantasy Me and Mr. Wolf
- Thread starter kevintheradioguy
- Start date
Beebasaur
Probably Dead?
Quinby pulled the cape tighter around his body as the winter winds blew by, chilling his bones and causing goosebumps to sprout on his skin. The way the clouds had gathered and darkened implied it would snow soon. This would normally be expected, if it weren't for the fact it was currently the middle of summer. But in the First Realm, it was always winter, all year long. He had forgotten how cold it got, that was one of the perks of living in a big city, most of the houses were heated. It also didn't help that he'd spent a majority of his time inside, studying under the Grand Mage, someone so awful he didn't deserve to be referred to by name.
Having been forced to endure an apprenticeship under the meanest mage around Quinby did the most reasonable thing he could: pack his bags and run away. He thought of it as "Impromptu Adventuring" as running away was something only cowards did, he was not a coward. While organizing the Grand Mage's papers he had stumbled upon an ad, asking for the help of a great mage to save their town from a curse. It was just the motivation Quinby needed, and he quickly put his plan into action. Packing a small bag, only the essentials, he escaped his awful apprenticeship, leaving his hometown of Anstahyttan behind. Once he saved this city from the curse it would prove he was a fantastic mage, allowing him to completely bypass his apprenticeship and become a full-time mage!
It might have been smarter if he had packed more winter clothing, something he was now lamenting as his nose started to turn blue. Shelter was a must, especially before the snow came in. Luckily enough it seemed to be his day, as through the trees a small gravel path was visible, and not too far away the lights of civilization glowed. "Oh thank goodness..." Quinby sighed, quickening his pace to reach the city faster. He could already feel the cozy bed, taste the delicious food, and most importantly warmth. As he began to get closer his expectations began to lower, more and more. It was so...small?
This was like no city Quinby had ever seen, though his experience was very limited, everything from the sign to the people were unglamorous. Of course shelter was shelter, and as the saying goes "beggers can't be choosers". By this point the sun was making it's way past the horizon, making the dark clouds hanging in the sky oddly beautiful as they became accented with purples and pinks. He took only a moment to enjoy this beautiful sight as it was still freezing, and he'd rather not have a finger fall off. Before the village truly began sat a beat down wooden sign, proudly displaying the words "Welcome to Skale! Enjoy yo-...-ay!" the rest had been worn down so much it wasn't legible. It also bore some pretty hefty claw marks, but these slipped his notice.
Hurriedly he approached a villager, the amount of which who were wandering outside seemed to be rapidly decreasing. They seemed almost afraid to be out during the dark, an notion which was completely ridiculous. Quinby knew for a fact that this area didn't have any monsters like some of the bigger cities, this small town was well within the protection Anstahyttan. Quickly he stopped a man who had been shuffling towards one of the many houses, confusion clear on his face. "Um, excuse me but...is there an Inn around here maybe? I am a very skilled magician and I am on a very important quest, but I need somewhere to stay," he made sure to keep his tone confident. It wasn't as if he was lying per-say, just exaggerating the truth a bit.
Having been forced to endure an apprenticeship under the meanest mage around Quinby did the most reasonable thing he could: pack his bags and run away. He thought of it as "Impromptu Adventuring" as running away was something only cowards did, he was not a coward. While organizing the Grand Mage's papers he had stumbled upon an ad, asking for the help of a great mage to save their town from a curse. It was just the motivation Quinby needed, and he quickly put his plan into action. Packing a small bag, only the essentials, he escaped his awful apprenticeship, leaving his hometown of Anstahyttan behind. Once he saved this city from the curse it would prove he was a fantastic mage, allowing him to completely bypass his apprenticeship and become a full-time mage!
It might have been smarter if he had packed more winter clothing, something he was now lamenting as his nose started to turn blue. Shelter was a must, especially before the snow came in. Luckily enough it seemed to be his day, as through the trees a small gravel path was visible, and not too far away the lights of civilization glowed. "Oh thank goodness..." Quinby sighed, quickening his pace to reach the city faster. He could already feel the cozy bed, taste the delicious food, and most importantly warmth. As he began to get closer his expectations began to lower, more and more. It was so...small?
This was like no city Quinby had ever seen, though his experience was very limited, everything from the sign to the people were unglamorous. Of course shelter was shelter, and as the saying goes "beggers can't be choosers". By this point the sun was making it's way past the horizon, making the dark clouds hanging in the sky oddly beautiful as they became accented with purples and pinks. He took only a moment to enjoy this beautiful sight as it was still freezing, and he'd rather not have a finger fall off. Before the village truly began sat a beat down wooden sign, proudly displaying the words "Welcome to Skale! Enjoy yo-...-ay!" the rest had been worn down so much it wasn't legible. It also bore some pretty hefty claw marks, but these slipped his notice.
Hurriedly he approached a villager, the amount of which who were wandering outside seemed to be rapidly decreasing. They seemed almost afraid to be out during the dark, an notion which was completely ridiculous. Quinby knew for a fact that this area didn't have any monsters like some of the bigger cities, this small town was well within the protection Anstahyttan. Quickly he stopped a man who had been shuffling towards one of the many houses, confusion clear on his face. "Um, excuse me but...is there an Inn around here maybe? I am a very skilled magician and I am on a very important quest, but I need somewhere to stay," he made sure to keep his tone confident. It wasn't as if he was lying per-say, just exaggerating the truth a bit.
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kevintheradioguy
Salt
It was, indeed, getting cold. Summer usually wasn't this snowy in these lands, although it was short and fleeting, but this time it was extremely cold here for the season. Especially for someone who spent most of his time in the tower, over books and besides a fireplace. Quinby stood out as a new arrival immediately: he was dressed not only well, but warm too. Local villagers with their rough hands and bulky muscles were used to lots of work and even more cold, now enjoying what little summertime there was by dressing lighter than usual. There was no doubt that if Quinby would dress like that he'd immediately freeze, turning into a large, human-shaped icicle. These people, however, didn't seem to care that much, wearing woolen shirts and simple boots, rarely ever wrapped in coats or having hats on. Still, it was getting darker and darker, and they hurried to get home. Have a meal, spend time with family. Simple pleasures.
The person called over turned around, looking down at the young mage with slight disgust only present among hicks towards city folk, who - of course! - had an easy life and didn't know what being a real man or a woman was all about. The man was carrying a large basket on his shoulder - probably filled with mushrooms or crunchy rowanberries so tasty after they've been covered in frosty crust. It wasn't probably heavy enough to carry like that, but it made the man look important. He looked Quinby up and down, doubt obvious on his bearded, rough face, and smirked. "Skilled magician, eh? Why don'cha magic us some good weather then?" He hemmed, pausing, obviously happy with his absolutely unfunny joke. Not seeing any reaction from anyone around - not a chuckle, neither even a glare, he breathed out, pursing his lips. Internally he probably blamed Quinby for his own lack of humour. Grumpily, the man pointed over his shoulder, deeper into the town. "You might have all the quests in the world, kid..." The man started, leaning down, his face weathered and dark, and eyes piercing-blue under the dark-brown hair. "...but you better have money instead, and enough of it to afford the stay." There was aggression in his voice - but light. Quinby didn't look the type these people usually looked down upon, blaming for poor state of provinces, and lack of knowledge of the 'real world'. The man tried to do what his nurture told him to: bully and make fun of the city bird, but the mage was so young and behaved so unspoiled, the large man simply couldn't force himself to.
The person called over turned around, looking down at the young mage with slight disgust only present among hicks towards city folk, who - of course! - had an easy life and didn't know what being a real man or a woman was all about. The man was carrying a large basket on his shoulder - probably filled with mushrooms or crunchy rowanberries so tasty after they've been covered in frosty crust. It wasn't probably heavy enough to carry like that, but it made the man look important. He looked Quinby up and down, doubt obvious on his bearded, rough face, and smirked. "Skilled magician, eh? Why don'cha magic us some good weather then?" He hemmed, pausing, obviously happy with his absolutely unfunny joke. Not seeing any reaction from anyone around - not a chuckle, neither even a glare, he breathed out, pursing his lips. Internally he probably blamed Quinby for his own lack of humour. Grumpily, the man pointed over his shoulder, deeper into the town. "You might have all the quests in the world, kid..." The man started, leaning down, his face weathered and dark, and eyes piercing-blue under the dark-brown hair. "...but you better have money instead, and enough of it to afford the stay." There was aggression in his voice - but light. Quinby didn't look the type these people usually looked down upon, blaming for poor state of provinces, and lack of knowledge of the 'real world'. The man tried to do what his nurture told him to: bully and make fun of the city bird, but the mage was so young and behaved so unspoiled, the large man simply couldn't force himself to.
Beebasaur
Probably Dead?
As the man actually turned around and faced Quinby he was faced with just out big he was, making himself look more like a twig than normal. While it hadn't been obvious when he first entered the town it seemed the size of this man was the standard, even the women, or at least the ones still chilling outside, were huge compared to the petite girls of his home. Their size likely contributed to the scarceness of their clothing, Quinby, stupidly, had only brought his basic outfit the only thing keeping his entire body from freezing solid being the winter cloak he wore. He still couldn't understand how they were able to stand out here with only simple shirts and not a layer in sight.
Quinby had been prepared for the question of his strength, one could not make such bold claims without an explanation, but he was never given a chance to say it. "W-well of course I have money!" he sputtered, trying to puff his chest up to somewhat compete with the man's size, of course it just ended up making him look flimsier than before. "I just uh...need to save it for the journey ahead!" It was a weak excuse, once more trying to mask his lack of foresight when he had been packing for this adventure. Currently he had only 3 silvers and a couple coppers in his pocket, being an apprentice was not a paying career and since food and clothing had always been provided for him he never had much use for money.
Sheepishly Quinby offered what he hoped was a reasonable compromise, "Is there anyway I could maybe, work for my room?" Considering the size of everyone in town it was likely that the main career choices involved a lot of hard labor, something Quinby just wasn't built for, but he could maybe get away with a few basic magic tricks or even cleaning. He was no stranger to either, none of the apprentices were, it was one of the main things they were forced to do everyday. Of course the point of having magic was you were able to get working done without having to put in all the work, but it seemed his high and mighty tutor never got the memo.
Quinby had been prepared for the question of his strength, one could not make such bold claims without an explanation, but he was never given a chance to say it. "W-well of course I have money!" he sputtered, trying to puff his chest up to somewhat compete with the man's size, of course it just ended up making him look flimsier than before. "I just uh...need to save it for the journey ahead!" It was a weak excuse, once more trying to mask his lack of foresight when he had been packing for this adventure. Currently he had only 3 silvers and a couple coppers in his pocket, being an apprentice was not a paying career and since food and clothing had always been provided for him he never had much use for money.
Sheepishly Quinby offered what he hoped was a reasonable compromise, "Is there anyway I could maybe, work for my room?" Considering the size of everyone in town it was likely that the main career choices involved a lot of hard labor, something Quinby just wasn't built for, but he could maybe get away with a few basic magic tricks or even cleaning. He was no stranger to either, none of the apprentices were, it was one of the main things they were forced to do everyday. Of course the point of having magic was you were able to get working done without having to put in all the work, but it seemed his high and mighty tutor never got the memo.
kevintheradioguy
Salt
The man puffed his chest, seemingly happy with Quinby's indirect admittance that he was down on his luck with money. Other people's misfortunes seemed to entertain him more than his own luck... when it struck him. Needless to say, province citizen never had much luck in anything, being provided enough to survive, but never able to afford anything as fancy as, say, Quinby's clothes or good education, stuck in this eternal circle of hard labour and crushed ambitions. It was whether that, or starving.
"Why d'ya ask me?" The man scoffed, fixing the basket on his wide, muscular shoulder. "You should go to the inn and ask Ingie instead! But don' expect her to give you free food. We don't have enough for ourselves, let alone some traveller who wants to... what, read books instead of payment?" He looked Quinby over with small disgust, cocking his head, as if evaluating him like a merchant. His small stature and skinny arms. What could he do here that would come in handy anyway? He wouldn't be able to even load an oven with kindling without falling down with exhaustion - let alone do something useful! Hell, even his own five-year-old kid seemed stronger, and as for intellectual properties... well, he could not for the life of his imagine how someone who just so happened to be riding a desk for a few years in a library could help them here in an way. But that wasn't his problem, was it? "An' if you still want to eat, but not to pay, be prepared to grab a weapon and hunt your own roast. That's what we've been doin' here for the last few months anyway."
He grumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like 'god damn big city dandy', sighed, and prepared to leave.
"Why d'ya ask me?" The man scoffed, fixing the basket on his wide, muscular shoulder. "You should go to the inn and ask Ingie instead! But don' expect her to give you free food. We don't have enough for ourselves, let alone some traveller who wants to... what, read books instead of payment?" He looked Quinby over with small disgust, cocking his head, as if evaluating him like a merchant. His small stature and skinny arms. What could he do here that would come in handy anyway? He wouldn't be able to even load an oven with kindling without falling down with exhaustion - let alone do something useful! Hell, even his own five-year-old kid seemed stronger, and as for intellectual properties... well, he could not for the life of his imagine how someone who just so happened to be riding a desk for a few years in a library could help them here in an way. But that wasn't his problem, was it? "An' if you still want to eat, but not to pay, be prepared to grab a weapon and hunt your own roast. That's what we've been doin' here for the last few months anyway."
He grumbled something under his breath that sounded vaguely like 'god damn big city dandy', sighed, and prepared to leave.
Beebasaur
Probably Dead?
Quinby wanted to retort, he really wanted to, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified out of his mind. He'd never been good with confrontation at the best of times, but when a guy twice your size and built of muscles told you something, well, you didn't argue. Forcing himself to stand straighter, he made one final attempt to talk to the guy — who looked very much done with the conversation — exerting every last bit of confidence that hadn't been smothered. "Well i-if you're not going to help me out, I...uh, I didn't need it anyway!" It was weak, in fact it was worse than weak it was downright pathetic. He deflated like a balloon, making a childish pout before turning away from the man, his feet shuffling on the tightly packed ground.
"At least I can read," he grumbled, before worriedly glancing over his shoulder to see if the big man had heard him. Just in case he hurried his pace up, trying to put some distance between him and the guy's large fists. The hard thing about navigating villages, especially ones like this, was the fact that almost everything looked alike. He was used to the bright colors and flashy displays of the city, each and every building was starkly different to the one next to it. Instead he scanned the area for some sort of sign, anything to point him in the right direction.
He got exactly that mere moments later, having been so focused in his own head that he hardly noticed that he was about to walk head first into a wooden sign on the ground. It was one of those kind that formed a triangle when looked at from the side, easily removable if need be. Hitting the ground with a thud, Quinby found himself a tangle of elbows and knees, someone in a losing wrestling match with the wooden sign he had knocked over. He was getting more than a few stares as he loudly tried to untangle his cloak from the sign, finally freeing himself from it's splintery clutches and getting to his feet. Hurriedly Quinby picked back up the sign, setting it upright, making sure to hold his cloak tightly around himself as he walked around it to the front door.
"At least I can read," he grumbled, before worriedly glancing over his shoulder to see if the big man had heard him. Just in case he hurried his pace up, trying to put some distance between him and the guy's large fists. The hard thing about navigating villages, especially ones like this, was the fact that almost everything looked alike. He was used to the bright colors and flashy displays of the city, each and every building was starkly different to the one next to it. Instead he scanned the area for some sort of sign, anything to point him in the right direction.
He got exactly that mere moments later, having been so focused in his own head that he hardly noticed that he was about to walk head first into a wooden sign on the ground. It was one of those kind that formed a triangle when looked at from the side, easily removable if need be. Hitting the ground with a thud, Quinby found himself a tangle of elbows and knees, someone in a losing wrestling match with the wooden sign he had knocked over. He was getting more than a few stares as he loudly tried to untangle his cloak from the sign, finally freeing himself from it's splintery clutches and getting to his feet. Hurriedly Quinby picked back up the sign, setting it upright, making sure to hold his cloak tightly around himself as he walked around it to the front door.
kevintheradioguy
Salt
"What the actual f..." The man started, looking with confusion and a bit of disgust at the little guy. Wasn't he the one to approach and ask for directions? The city folk. Never knowing what they needed. He sighed with old man-like grumble, shaking his head, and thinking how the hell this kid survived for this long. Obviously there was enough people wanting to punch him in the face with an attitude like that. Perhaps, this guy would be the one to do so, hearing Quinby grumble back - albeit not catching what about - and already turning around to make a scene, when he noticed a familiar door open few houses from them, and a chubby little girl peeking out. That made him forget all about the little townsman behind him, smiling, placing the basket on another shoulder, and hurrying home. There might not have been enough meat for everyone, but his kids loved berries he brought them, and today he had luck looking for them.
The houses, indeed were way too similar, and in a small place like this there was no need in street signs. There seemed to be two types of buildings there: the common log ones, with thick walls and often crooked roofs, and straw-and-clay ones, painted white, with funny little tops that looked like tiny round hats. The former type was a local inn Quinby was pointed to, standing just one floor taller than the rest, and having its special sign for the "stupid travellers" not to miss it. They always did that. How come? It was the only inn in town! How the hell could they not know whee it was!?
As soon as the young mage approached the door, it swung wide-open, and would have hit the wall on the outer side with a loud CRACK!, but instead this time it hit the squishy younger, forcing him into the wall, and pinning him down for a second, like a giant clam, before letting him free. Met with the wall, he didn't see the responsible party, but he heard it quite well, yelling from the porch: "Kirsty-y-y! Where the hell are you!? I've been waiting for my water for half an hour now!" It was a booming, low, but female voice, and it was obvious that whoever it belonged to held some power in this place - she sounded like someone who was accustomed to yelling a lot... and yelling a lot almost always meant being in charge of something. "I swear to god, if them 'tatos run dry, you'll be the one to blame!" Like an incantation, a young woman popped from behind a house, carrying two buckets of water on a balancing beam thrown over her shoulder. She hurried to the door, shaking her head to get a few strands of brown hair out of her round, reddened face, as if she was embarassed, shy, or... something else. By the thickness of her arms alone Quinby could see that even she was probably physically much stronger than he was, used to hard labour - taller than him, built like a little bull, with the only traces of femininity being large fair eyes, but not hips or cleavage any city woman would be proud of. That, or those were hidden by a simple waistless dress of dull-green, red and yellow she wore.
The houses, indeed were way too similar, and in a small place like this there was no need in street signs. There seemed to be two types of buildings there: the common log ones, with thick walls and often crooked roofs, and straw-and-clay ones, painted white, with funny little tops that looked like tiny round hats. The former type was a local inn Quinby was pointed to, standing just one floor taller than the rest, and having its special sign for the "stupid travellers" not to miss it. They always did that. How come? It was the only inn in town! How the hell could they not know whee it was!?
As soon as the young mage approached the door, it swung wide-open, and would have hit the wall on the outer side with a loud CRACK!, but instead this time it hit the squishy younger, forcing him into the wall, and pinning him down for a second, like a giant clam, before letting him free. Met with the wall, he didn't see the responsible party, but he heard it quite well, yelling from the porch: "Kirsty-y-y! Where the hell are you!? I've been waiting for my water for half an hour now!" It was a booming, low, but female voice, and it was obvious that whoever it belonged to held some power in this place - she sounded like someone who was accustomed to yelling a lot... and yelling a lot almost always meant being in charge of something. "I swear to god, if them 'tatos run dry, you'll be the one to blame!" Like an incantation, a young woman popped from behind a house, carrying two buckets of water on a balancing beam thrown over her shoulder. She hurried to the door, shaking her head to get a few strands of brown hair out of her round, reddened face, as if she was embarassed, shy, or... something else. By the thickness of her arms alone Quinby could see that even she was probably physically much stronger than he was, used to hard labour - taller than him, built like a little bull, with the only traces of femininity being large fair eyes, but not hips or cleavage any city woman would be proud of. That, or those were hidden by a simple waistless dress of dull-green, red and yellow she wore.
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Beebasaur
Probably Dead?
Quinby winced, gingerly rubbing his nose which had turned a brighter red than usual. Luckily the door hadn't broke anything, other than his pride that is, allowing him to stumble out into the open. His head was ringing, not only from it's rather forceful introduction with the door, but the sheer volume of the voice emanating from the other side. It was deep and booming, but despite this it's owner was clearly female, from the way she was speaking she likely was the owner of this Inn. He didn't have a chance to actually see her, shakily escaping the door's shadow only to be met with yet another person.
Like everyone else in this village she was huge, not in a fat way of course, but her entire body seemed to be one big muscle. Quinby was a gentlemen at heart but even he couldn't help but size her up. She wasn't pretty, not in the definition that most girls he met used, but she had a sort of charm. He couldn't see her eyes, they were hidden from his view by her gorgeous brown hair. She was out of his league, most women were sadly, if he was the ground then she'd be the sun, and Quinby couldn't help but ponder the poetic quality of such a statement. Of course this entire time he had just been standing there, and would likely be seen as creepy if anyone was around to see him. Breaking himself out of his trance Quinby made his move, approaching her from behind before she entered the front door and tapping her on the shoulder.
Clearing his throat he made his voice as "Masculine" as he could, "Hello there, are you an angle?" he asked, pausing for a moment before quietly cursing. "I mean an angel...because you look like heaven," he finished, unaware he had misquoted that line.
Like everyone else in this village she was huge, not in a fat way of course, but her entire body seemed to be one big muscle. Quinby was a gentlemen at heart but even he couldn't help but size her up. She wasn't pretty, not in the definition that most girls he met used, but she had a sort of charm. He couldn't see her eyes, they were hidden from his view by her gorgeous brown hair. She was out of his league, most women were sadly, if he was the ground then she'd be the sun, and Quinby couldn't help but ponder the poetic quality of such a statement. Of course this entire time he had just been standing there, and would likely be seen as creepy if anyone was around to see him. Breaking himself out of his trance Quinby made his move, approaching her from behind before she entered the front door and tapping her on the shoulder.
Clearing his throat he made his voice as "Masculine" as he could, "Hello there, are you an angle?" he asked, pausing for a moment before quietly cursing. "I mean an angel...because you look like heaven," he finished, unaware he had misquoted that line.
kevintheradioguy
Salt
The girl slowed down, looking at the young man with confusion. What was he saying? This sounded like a cheesy pickup line that went terribly wrong. Of course, there were suitors in this village, and many of them - after all, she worked at the inn and tavern, and drunken workers always tried to stare at her hind quarters as much as they could. Almost as if this was their manly duty. They came up with lines to throw her way, but calling her an angle... angel... was new. "Um..." She looked around, as if seeking help in this incredibly hard decision of what to reply to that. She shook her head, blowing off the hair from her face, but getting just one eye free of it, piercing-green and round, looking straight at Quinby. "Did you... want something..." She didn't finish her thought... or maybe she did. The redheaded woman looked out from behind the door, her low voice popping in so fast after the last syllable escaped the girl's lips, it looked like she interrupted:
"Don't you get her head filled with your nonsense!" She said in a tone of a deeply insulted woman. The lady was older than them both - maybe in her forties - tall, skinny, with narrow, long features, and wrinkled hands and rough, leathery skin. She looked a little like beef jerky. Her eyes were of a warm, brown colour, and she would probably be attractive in a way, if nor for the ginger hair holding a touch of grey. Dark hair looked refined with grey, fair was not even noticeable. Ginger made it look like her locks were dirty, and she gained an image of a crazy cat lady, even if that wasn't the case. She darted a quick loom at Quinby, and her face changed. There was no doubt that whatever she imagine the young man was, she fullheartedly disapproved of it. "And who the hell are you?" She asked, as the girl, Kirsty, hopped inside, afraid to be blamed for something as Quinby probably would be, just because she was near. "I haven't seen you around these parts. I swear to gods, if you are one of those nonsense-writing city twats here to swoop another girl from her family, you better be fast on your feet, because as soon as the men learn..." here was probably nothing good happening if someone would learn about it. It was hard to believe that working people like this would have any problems with bards or minstrels coming in and seducing their women, seeing how said bards and minstrels were often half the size of local ladies... but at the same time, the red-headed woman looked quite serious when she spoke, so maybe strong women were in fashion lately?
"Don't you get her head filled with your nonsense!" She said in a tone of a deeply insulted woman. The lady was older than them both - maybe in her forties - tall, skinny, with narrow, long features, and wrinkled hands and rough, leathery skin. She looked a little like beef jerky. Her eyes were of a warm, brown colour, and she would probably be attractive in a way, if nor for the ginger hair holding a touch of grey. Dark hair looked refined with grey, fair was not even noticeable. Ginger made it look like her locks were dirty, and she gained an image of a crazy cat lady, even if that wasn't the case. She darted a quick loom at Quinby, and her face changed. There was no doubt that whatever she imagine the young man was, she fullheartedly disapproved of it. "And who the hell are you?" She asked, as the girl, Kirsty, hopped inside, afraid to be blamed for something as Quinby probably would be, just because she was near. "I haven't seen you around these parts. I swear to gods, if you are one of those nonsense-writing city twats here to swoop another girl from her family, you better be fast on your feet, because as soon as the men learn..." here was probably nothing good happening if someone would learn about it. It was hard to believe that working people like this would have any problems with bards or minstrels coming in and seducing their women, seeing how said bards and minstrels were often half the size of local ladies... but at the same time, the red-headed woman looked quite serious when she spoke, so maybe strong women were in fashion lately?
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