Corsair Stir-Fry

Logs and Almanacs

PLEASE READ: Here is the repository of journals and lore that have been written by members of Corsair Stir-Fry.

If a player enjoys writing journals or logs of games, they will earn a Re-Roll to be used any time during the current season. A player can bank any number of rerolls, but use no more than 1 per game session. The Storyteller is the last word whether a re-rolls is appropriate to the situation

Entries may be subject to editing to adjust formatting for consistency.


The Following Tags are used for Adventure Logs:

Season #
Denotes what season this post falls within

A personal journal entry by that character

An official report submitted by one of the newly awakened Lawgivers.

Anything that adds to the season’s experience, but perhaps not directly to a particular session or character.

Some Assembly Required

Sage dash around the Citadel, frantically packing scrolls, books, and rare reagents. Behind him, Sage’s fire elemental familiar caught the items tossed at it, quickly putting them on an over-sized backpack it drug behind it, all the while rolling its eyes at the frantic behavior of its master.

From the massive orichalcum perch in the middle of the room, the regal Garda Bird feigned disinterest, but carefully watched Sage’s every move. It called out to Sage, burning the thought into his mind

Off to play again are we? Seems you never spend time at home. Another hatchling leaves the nest.

It sighed, a heady smoke of incense and campfires filling the space. Sage paused for a moment, trying to remain reverent in his rushing. “Porto Spice needs me, my brethren need me. Our enemies are nearly at our shores and the manse is nearly repaired, but we can’t figure out the last pieces. There are clearly defenses tied to it, and I know the harbor lighthouse has something to do with it….”

The creature’s feathers ruffled, the irritation rolling off it with the heat and cinders

Yet another lighthouse wins you eye? Does the wonder of the Citadel no longer enough to hold you interests?

Sage sighs. “We’ve talked about this. The lighthouse in the harbor is related… er a lesser sibling to the Citadel, certainly, but related. We found the maker’s mark and they are the same. So no, you and your wonderful home are not replaced. I’m simply admiring its… offspring?”

This seems to satisfy the creature.

Oh that lighthouse. Yes yes, a bauble that its creator would prattle on without end. He left a diary or coloring book or something about it around here somewhere.

With that, the creature went back to preening and feigned disinterest. Sage froze in place. “Wait, there is a codex to the island? Here? C…c…can I have it?”

It was truly much easier before you went away and forgot as much as you did. So much repeating. Fine, yes, I will gift it to you, an ember of my benevolence.

A slightly smoldering book floated down from among the prized possessions of the creature. Sage nearly trips over himself rushing to pick it up, while the familiar behind him just shakes its head. Sage flips it open and finds large sections of it scorched and burned. “It’s… damaged!” he screeched in horror.

The room’s temperature roared to that of a furnace.

You insult my gift!?!

Sage instinctively closed the book and slipped it inside his coat. “, of course not! It is a blessing for sure! Thank you!”

Later, while sitting at the Ouregon University library and studying the book, Sage chuckled to himself. The prideful bird had burned away sections that likely spoke to the beautiful nature of the island’s design. Collateral damage from the creature’s prideful revisions were hurtful to Sage’s very nature, but much still remained. He worked late into the night translating and cross-referencing the work.

The Colossus Veliv

There was rhythm in this island, a cadence that Katwe didn’t realize she could feel until Jurrican Scyawn, in his desire to release the behemoth, enacted a ritual that caused the very land beneath her feet to lose its heartbeat in a cacophony of wrenching pain. The land was still recovering, its rhythm still weak and faltering, but getting stronger every day. Katwe stood on the precipice rising above the valleys of Porto Spice, next to the half-made Colossus honoring the first man who welcomed her and her kind to a new home, and felt the island begin to sing again. But it needed its heart. She shifted her feet, swung Volcano Cutter from her back, brought forth the molten strength of the land, and leapt.

Riding a blast of geothermal steam until she could grab hold of a massive flowering vine forming the tendons of Colossus Veliv’s right forearm, Katwe spared another glance down at her dedicated artisans as they worked on various pieces a safe distance from the eruption field. She wondered if any of them realized that they, too, unconsciously paced, hammered, cut, and crafted to the rhythm she felt all around them. It came so easily to life. The challenge now was to bring that song into this work. She twisted and shaped the vines, a sweet-smelling gift from Obiya, and seaweed from the Gill Clan until they were interwoven with the mix of metal, stone, and spider silk that formed the colossus’s limbs. Katwe grinned at the thought of a gloriously be-flowered giant wading into battle with an aura of bougainvillea. The spider silk created a protective webbing around the joints and other vulnerable areas, supporting and allowing for relatively delicate maneuvers once the it all came to life.

Finished with this particular task, the Solar looked impatiently to the sky, searching. Yes, there he was. As Bountiful Apex hurriedly approached, having learned the hard way that his usual tactic of meandering over when he felt like it did not sit well with the fiery woman, Katwe focused Volcano Cutter at the scaffolding of hardened lava rock encircling the statue, took aim, and sent the daiclave whistling down to Creation. A narrow stream of magma sprang forth, the pressure behind it forcing it to flow up the channel cut into the rock, building it up to the next level so she could continue her work on the chest, back, and shoulders. Just as the lava came bursting up past the highest point of the spiral, a quick drenching of rain cooled each part, creating yet another layer reaching up to the sky. Katwe sprinted up the circular incline just behind the glowing red torrent that darkened as it hissed and steamed in the rain. Finally about ninety feet in the air, she gestured to the pretentious Rain God and the shower ceased. Katwe once again surveyed the land, marking the progress of her artisans as they carefully, competently went about their tasks. It was a peaceful scene.

Too peaceful. As much as she delighted in crafting, this Solar was no Twilight. With a wicked grin and a bellowing war cry that blasted through the valleys, amplified by the tower of lava rock beneath her feet, Katwe Kikorongo of the Dawn launched herself toward the colossus. Loyal Volcano Cutter reappeared, flashing red and white, in her hands as she went to work.

Far below, several of the younger artisans not yet completely adapted to their leader’s methods had dropped to the ground in panic at the sudden roar of battle overhead. Tools and materials went clattering and pack animals started, ready to bolt. The older ones, the grizzled crafters who remembered Katwe from another lifetime, looked over and snorted. One called out to the prone workers. “At least she’s waiting until mid-day now. You’re lucky she decided a while back to stop waking us all up like that.” One older woman laid aside her tongs and hammer for a second to glance up at the maelstrom far above them. From this distance it looked like Katwe was engaged in fierce and joyous battle with a giant skeletal golem. Her anima soon flared and the scene of a raging volcano storm appeared overhead, much to the delight of the children from nearby settlements. The metalworker grinned, weary face lightening for a moment.

“That’s our Dawn.”

The soul-warming morning sun broke through the clouds, sending a beam of radiance toward through the top of a basalt and onyx cocoon that stood like a monolith on the high place next to the Manse of Exploding Infinities. It filtered down, highlighting the carved features of a beloved face well-known in Porto Spice. Katwe stood alone on the shoulder of Colossus Veliv, working delicately and more delicately, losing herself in the details because they had to be just right. Images of the Living Veliv rose in her memories and she gave her hands over to them, unconsciously shaping and smoothing the metal and stone as though they were clay. Obsidian eyes gazed unseeing, but only for now. A careful niche in the statue’s throat, flanked by steel collar bones, awaited the ragged ship’s wheel that carried the ghost of living Veliv. Katwe hoped his soul would soon find rest and rejuvenation. For now, though, his voice would echo throughout Porto Spice one last time as he would defend his ancestral home from a terrible enemy rushing toward it at this very moment. She smiled softly at the thought. It will literally echo across the land; the acoustics in the niche assured it. Any man who managed to seduce the Mother of Storms deserves to be heard by all. Standing 150 feet tall, with the gleaming sword representing his youthful battles ready for attack in his right hand and a massive tome representing the old man’s scholarly years clutched in his left, the Colossus Veliv was almost ready to be revealed. Elemental power will bring it to life, his spirit will be its heart and voice. Katwe lifted her hands, finally done with their long work, from the statue’s face. The two warriors smiled at each other. The rhythm was waiting. The musicians were tuning their instruments. The dancers were approaching.

“Shall we, then?”

Post from the STs Setting the Stage for Session 6

Unforeseen Returns and Unearthed Resources

In the months since the Solars came to Porto Spice, they have accomplished many strange and wondrous feats. Despite their extraordinary efforts, a great many tragedies have also come to pass as well, leaving the island’s denizens little time to appreciate the resurgent might of the Lawgivers.

Perhaps most strange and wondrous of all, however, is the seeming resurrection of Jurrican Kira, the Wavedancer. Ensorceled by the strange magic of Glorious Resplendent Tyranny Overthrowing Golden Gods and having been forgotten by all but a handful of Solars mere weeks ago, Kira is now the sole surviving member of the once grand Jurrican family (though at least two spirits of her kin, Veliv and Scyawn, are said to stalk the island yet). Her memories, destiny, and body rejoined by the heroic efforts of the Solars, she stands ready to fight once more to defend her homeland.

And fight she must, for the greatest of those many tragedies, a titanic and terrible creature that once slumbered in some sorcerous prison ‘neath the waves now stalks the vast Western seas, decimating island after island and leaving nothing but a trail of dissolving, rotted bodies and wood in its unfathomable wake. Moreover, rumor has reached the island of not one, but two great fleets driving toward Porto Spice in great haste, one from the East, and one from the North. Neither flies a flag of peace. Moreover, the Solars have been betrayed by their once ally, The All Seeing, a nascent god of destiny, who came to see them as a threat, murdered Eager Pearl, and fled the island for places unknown.

The Solars are not without advantages in the battle to come. Some of their number have unearthed the lost hearthstone to their Manse, Exploding Infinities. Others have neared completion on great works like the animate colossus carved in Veliv’s likeness and begun work on others, like the repair of the glorious ancient skyship Garuda’s Grace. Allies have been found all across the West, from the secretive, bestial Lunars of Black Wave Bay to the laid-back masters of sea and surf, the Riptide.

The ancient Solars who once ruled over Porto Spice had a plan to deal with the monstrosity they had sealed away. Those who dwell there now know that it involves the three-stage Final Beam weapon and the telepathy-enabling Eternities Within device, and all are now scrabbling to learn whatever they can and prepare for the war to come.

Perhaps it will be enough. Or perhaps these Solars will fall like their forebears, a bright but brief footnote in the history of the mysterious island of Porto Spice.

Sid + Meric : Notes from home
Memories remembered


Don’t you worry about the businesses. Enjoy the money and your time down there in the South. I’m sure it’s much more enjoyable there than the cold here. I’m taking care of things on the home front. I’m disappointed to see Grantle go too, Grantle was an old fool and started making mistakes. However it does mean a good bump for our business ’tho.

Business is going extra well as I’ve been sure that there’s no skimming in what’s being paid to us. I’ve also introduced a new fee for shop-owners as a way of marking their shops off limits. It’s much easier to have the shop keeper pay us money directly rather than to steal and fence the item. A few have balked but they’ve quickly come round.

Your brother,


I’m a bit alarmed by your last letter – a lot of the shop owners in town are barely making ends meet now – especially in some of the specialty shops. Sure, it’s one thing for the inns and taverns where there’s always “extra” laying about if you know where to look but some of the shop-keepers barely scrape by. Please stop asking for ‘protection’ money. Also, what did you mean about they’ve “quickly come round”?



You’ve left the business for me to run and I’m doing so and turning a better profit than you ever did. My business is booming and everyone that was in our group seem to be happier than they’ve ever been. So a few people grumble in town – so what? We’re on one side of the law; they’re on the other. We’ve had to bend a few rules; make some examples. It’s just the normal course of business. You never did have a business head on your shoulders. That’s just the way a real business is run.

Remember our first job? The house that that uh, incident you did happened in? You’ve always shied away from the physical stuff since then and I understand that. Understand ‘tho that that’s how people like ourselves get ahead. Not always to the extreme you did that time but effort always makes right.



Memories are flooding back to me. Your mention of that night of the killing during the robbery. I remember what happened. Your words saying that I was the one who did it. Asking why I had done it. Asking what came over me. I was in shock. You were the one that killed. You were the one that stabbed. You were laughing while you did it. I had never seen that face on you before. All I did was stand there in shock while you placed the knife in my hand. I have blocked out so much of what you’ve done. The memories are free now. I had always called and considered you as a brother. No longer. You disgust me. I’ll be back soon.

Until then,

F#$@ O^#

Rebuilding Balen Mo'uri

Recreating the Island

There was a lot to take care of. First, there was a meeting of the Solars, the Freed People’s representatives, and the former Redcloaks (Who now referred to themselves as Greycloaks). They covered:
The formation of a representative assembly and the Executive Council. With some negotiation, it was agreed that there should be an assembly of people from various walks of life, including some of the Greycloaks. The Executive Council was to consist of one merchant, one Greycloak, and one Freedperson, with an election for one member to be held to be elected every two years.

  • The representatives of the Freedpeople initially objected to this, but it was pointed out that someone had to help them navigate interactions with the other houses, so certain of the Greycloaks who were known to be less objectionable were allowed to serve.
  • The formation of the new Department of Public Safety, consisting of a mix of Greycloaks and Freedpeople. The Greycloaks were, at least initially, not to serve in an enforcement capacity. They were only to act as trainers.
  • The formation of the Department of the Magistrate. This group had perhaps the hardest job, as it fell to them to administer justice to the slavers and those who had in various ways contributed to the abuse of the Freedpeople. Many of the worst offenders had fled during the uprising. These people were listed, their offenses recorded, and their sentences passed in absentia. The few who remained were either jailed or stripped of all possessions other than a basic survival pack and exiled.
  • The formation of Transparency Requirements, and an Auditing Department, to be backed by the Department of Public Safety. There would be an annual report of all taxes collected and where they went. This report would be available for anybody to see, and reading assistants would be made available as needed.
  • The creation of the Resettlement Committee. Everyone agreed that the current conditions were unacceptable, and when Ool suggested (methodically) tearing down the entire slave district, and what was left of the wall around it, and starting over, it wasn’t a hard sell.

Rebuilding the Island

The houses of those who had fled were pressed into service as temporary quarters while the new housing was constructed. Additionally, a few of the nomadic whalers who had accompanied them assisted with the construction of a tent town just outside the city borders, for those who wanted space more than they wanted a roof.

While Ool was at work creating a new Balen Mo’uri, Wellspring was helping to heal emotional scars. She offered tattoos to anyone who wanted to cover their marks with something of their own choosing. Some people took her up on it, and were very pleased with the results. Some people just wanted the marks gone, and help with that was also provided. Some people wanted tattoos in other places, but those had to wait.

The new Freetown district was constructed. Freetown consisted of several neighborhoods. Some contained more communal housing, while others were apartment-style single family or single-occupant dwellings. The new dwellings were constructed out of beams and boards that were reconstituted out of the raw materials of the old dwellings (think plywood, but better).

Freetown had pipes to bring water to the dwellings and remove sewage to a number of treatment plants around the outer (very outer) edges of the city. The sewage was processed into manure, which was then distributed to farms in the neighboring area. Sewage processing paid very well (and was done with very good protective clothing, which was provided). Bathhouses were provided for use at shift’s end. Ool made a point of working several shifts at the plants herself, and going out into the city afterward nicely attired and smelling good.

It was everything Ool had ever wanted. Which was awesome. And also really scary.

Of Battle Blood and Drunken Sorrows
Tarnished Conviction vs. Wellspring of Expanding Enlightenment

In the weeks following the liberation of Rives-Oignees a great celebration emerged. The people, now free to do as they pleased, reveled in their victory over the Redcloaks flooding the streets in song and dance. Every corner of the city was alive with roaring crowds through the day and on into the night. The fighting pits were even transformed into temporary theater houses hosting reenactments of the battle to take Rives-Oignees.

Unfortunately not all was fun and games during the cities restoration. Yes Tiger was off playing up the crowds as he so often did, but Ool was tasking her people to find and train artisans. Tarnished took his newly acquired followers down to the docks to help arrange passage off the island for those that wished to return to their families or former lives. Each of the four adventurers had work to do and seldom found times to join in on the celebrations. As the days passed and the parties settled down Rives-Oignees underwent a grand transformation.

However amid the construction, social change and structural reform even heroes needed their rest now and then. One night after a long and stressful day Tarnished found himself unable to sleep. His mind was full of the days troubles and he lay awake staring into the night. Frustrated and groggy he took off to the local tavern for what passed as drink in this former slavers town. Admittedly he could have asked for a better stash of booze from the movers and shakers that helped in, or by way of inaction supported, the overthrow of Claudius Redcloak. All the same Tarnished sat and drank his sorrows away one by one until he was red in the face.

Returning home he could feel a slight tingle on the back of his neck. The kind of tingle he felt when spirits were close by. That’s when he saw it. The bug demon he saw Wellspring riding from days before. Anger and determination flooded his senses as he threw off the cloth wrappings that concealed his ornate dragon wand. He took aim as if by instinct took in a deep breath and slowly exhaled lining up the perfect shot before finally squeezing the trigger. A large column of fire roared through the sky soaring higher then most would have dared dream possible. The flames whipped at the demons wings causing it to dart away in fear. Tarnished reloaded his wand ready to give chase but the bug had other plans. It turned about diving to the ground and a single figure jumped from it’s back to the ground below. He had barely noticed a second before but there was actually a person riding that horrid thing.

Wellspring landed in the middle of the street facing the shanty tavern Tarnished had stumbled out of only moments ago. Her body language was discernibly tense as her fellow Exalted leveled his wand towards her demon’s head. “Stand down!” She commanded. Her feet picking up speed as she moved to intercept Tarnished before he could fire another round. He didn’t know why she was surprised after all he did warn her the next time he saw her demons he would kill them. Fueled by rage and liquid courage he took a breath and fired. At that exact moment a whip coiled around the barrel of the dragon wand yanking it free from his grasp causing its flames to veer wildly. His ornate weapon made a dull hollow sound as it came crashing to the ground several feet away from him.

Wellspring clung to the whip that so skillfully disarmed her opponent raising it’s braided length to the sky for a second attack. “Stand down now!” She repeated. Tarnished dove for his wand but the crack of the whip struck him hard across the face causing him to lurch back in pain. He moved across the street to put some distance between himself at the reach of her whip. However no matter how hard he tried she managed to keep him at bay or strike the wand further down the street. This only served to enrage him even further. Tired, drunk and feeling as if he were being plaid with Tarnished broke into a full charge for his dragon wand. Once again Wellspring struck at him with her powerful whip. This time however Tarnished reached out snatching the length in mid air. He grasped the weapon with his bare hands even as the whip caused his palms to bleed. This caught Wellspring off guard long enough for the two to make eye contact. Something about the flick of the light and the shape of the brow made them strangely familiar to each other. Perhaps it was just a trick of the moon light but she felt as if she recognized him somehow.

While Wellspring was distracted Tarnished took the opportunity to clear his throat and focus his slurred speech. “Tukaj!” At once his bleeding hand was lit a blaze sending a trail of furious fire up the length of the whip. Wellspring released her weapon just before the flames could scorch her fingers. With them both now unarmed and faced off in the empty street Wellspring spoke soft and calmly. “What is your name?” Tarnished sneered thinking this was some sort of distraction to lower his guard. “You already know it.” She shook her head sincerely. “I know what you call yourself now but you were once of the realm. What did you call your self then?” Tarnished was contemplating his option at this point. If he tried to shape a spell she would likely counter or perhaps he’d have to counter one of hers. She was more experience at sorcery then he was after all. “Why the hell should you care?” He snapped back at her. She calmly raised her arms and gestured to the city street they occupied. “Because the things that happened here, some of it was due to misplaced loyalty to a family name. It can cause people, who are good deep down, to do terrible things.”

Tarnished felt his expression falter for just a moment from frustration to confusion. Maybe it was the booze talking but his body language seemed to relax just a bit. “Blind faith that turns good men cruel.” He repeated in simpler terms. “I don’t believe in that kind of loyalty, there needs to be something more.” She continued now crossing her arms over her chest. “So I ask you again what is your name?” Tarnished stalled for time as he contemplated his options. At last the long silence was broke with his answer. “Nerrun… Sesus Belar Nerrun.” Wellspring offered a faint yet genuine smile at that almost as if this revelation had amused her. “And just as blind faith can turn men cruel why do you harbor such blind hatred towards demons?” Tarnished visibly grew tense once again at the mention of them. “That is personal…” Wellspring uncrossed her arms and bowed her head. “Well despite our differences I believe there is more to you then what I’ve seen. Perhaps one day I’ll get to see it.” She placed her hand over her chest in a half-hearted salute. “Well met Sesus Belar Nerrun. My name is Sesus Alexandria. It’s been a pleasure.” He couldn’t tell if that last bit at the end was meant to be sarcastic or genuine. Either way Wellspring grabbed her belongings, hopped on her demon, and flew away leaving Tarnished in the street alone to contemplate what just transpired.

Journal of Ember Rose 3
A List of My Worries

Since we returned from liberating a magical artifact called The Rule of Law, I have not been able to sleep soundly. A healer, Belinda the Wise, told me to write a list of my worries. Putting them on paper will take them out of my mind, she says. I do not see how this could be true, but I promised her to try it. So.


1. Revolutionaries are being kidnapped off the streets of Far Harbor by a mysterious Secret Police. They are imprisoned in the Red Manse and subjected to a powerful, magic-boosted brainwashing. Sid discovered that you cannot even get close to the prisoners without being brainwashed yourself. He left feeling convinced that he was a loyal servant of Jerricane Scitha! The charm took days to wear off.

2. I rashly promised a favor to a god, and I don’t even know what god it was! The situation was so urgent, I didn’t try to negotiate. We had gone to so much trouble to retrieve The Rule of Law, a magical gavel that allows Solars to remake the world. The God of Lost Things had it. To get his attention, we threw a huge party and sacrificed something precious (Darius’s future sexual adventures, until he marries—an unconventional sacrifice, yes, but if you would have heard the women wailing you too would accept its magnitude).

We traveled for days in a rickety boat captained by a morose minion named the Least Unusable. Near the edge of creation, we arrived at a tower encircled by lightening, home of the god—and all the lost things. We managed to trick Least into helping us break through her master’s security traps. We won at riddles with the big crows, resisted the temptation to reclaim our own lost things, and made it through a lava trap. At last we could see the gavel, growing like a single horn out of a dragon’s skull, an elemental that kept this corner of creation stable.

Sage figured out a brilliant way to remove the horn, and trapped the god beneath the throne, but unfortunately he could not stop the ocean from rushing into the tower. We raced back through the perilous rooms. Sage insisted on incinerating all of the lost things; I still don’t know if that was wise. Brist narrowly avoided injury; Darius was injured, but we managed to escape the tower—only to find that we were trapped on a little platform with no boat, surrounded by a waste of waters at the very verge of the known. Can you blame me for rashly promising the god who answered our frantic call a favor of his choosing?

3. The Least Unusable is not very stable. We were able to restore her memories and desires, but she is torn by a terrible conflict, contradiction of intimacies, subjection to her drowned master and simultaneous hatred of him. I worry about her. In addition….

4 We didn’t manage to find the Man in the Mist’s daughter’s lost mind. I think we should have tried harder to look for it. We had mixed feelings about his request, but we did accept it, and we do need all the friends we can find, make, beg, borrow or steal.

5. When scholars were helping me do research in the university library, I was chewing on a chocolate honeycomb to lessen the boredom, but I sneezed from the dust and it dropped out of my mouth onto the pages of a book. Someone was coming so I shut the book, but later it turned out much worse since several pages were stuck together and ruined. I hope no one will ever need to look at those particular pages. Surely, out of all the books in that library, no one will happen to need just that one. It’s a little thing, but it worries me just the same.

Will I be able to sleep now, Belinda the Wise? We shall see.

Making crafters and influencing islanders

In the weeks leading up to the group’s departure for the Isle of the Artisans, Ool learned many lessons in making friends and influencing people. When the call went out to come up with ways to recruit shipbuilding artisans, a discussion of where they would stay occurred.

They certainly weren’t inviting a bunch of randos to stay at Exploding Infinities, especially since they might react badly to it and stop building ships. The Red Manse was discussed as a possibility, but without a lot of enthusiasm on the part of its current occupants. It was decided to throw up some housing just for them.

Ool saw her chance. Everyone kept telling here she was supposed to be special, after all. Surely they wouldn’t drive her out of town for offering a few suggestions. Scoff, perhaps, but she was well used to scoffing. Also, it boggled her mind that the plans being offered up were coming from people who lived in a Manse with its own aqueduct.

She drew up some plans (it was nice, being able to do that without explaining where the paper and ink came from), and showed them to Sanguine Vow.

“They look fine. Why are you showing them to me?”

“Because I need your help convincing people. I can do a lot, but I can’t do all this by myself, which means I have to get other people on board with the idea. And its new to them, which is never a selling point.”

“It will be this time. You’re our Exalted Crafter. Get out there and tell them how its going to be.”

“And what if they respond by telling me how its going to be? I have lots of ideas, but people never seem to be that impressed with them – or me.”

“It might help if you made more of an effort to be impressive. You still dress like you’re going out to slop the pigs.”

“If you think these are pig-slopping clothes, you have never slopped pigs.”

“You’re not an apprentice anymore. You’re a master. Start dressing the part.”


SIGH “Fine, get a nicer version of what you’re wearing now. Surely you can manage that.”

She did. Barely. The home building went somewhat better. So well, in fact that it drew the attention of the citizens or Porto Spice. People came by, and expressed their admiration. “Wish I could live in a fine place like that,” they would say. “You Solars sure can do some fine things.”

She explained, with a certain amount of pessimism, that these weren’t things that just Solars could do. Normal people could do them too. At first, she just got polite nods. Soon, though, a different set people started tricking in, asking if lessons might be available. And so, Ool began giving lessons in plumbing, irrigation, and waste management.

In return, her students taught her some things about building defenses. Porto Spice saw enough excitement that many of student knew things about how to create various types of defensive fortifications, and how to create and conceal escape routes.

As she became closer with her students, they began to gently suggest that maybe she could upgrade her wardrobe…

Notes from Home
Sid + Maric - 8/1 - 8/10
Aug 1 2017,

I hope things are going well in the South. I’m still not sure what you seek to accomplish down there and why your sudden interest / change in behavior. I’ve been able to spot some opportunities in your business interests that may have been overlooked previously. With the Grantle group leaving town due to some run-ins with the police we’ve been able to expand our influence. I’ve enclosed a portion of the profit that your previous and now additional 5 ‘employees’ have managed to obtain. There’s more waiting for you in accounts here.
Your trusted brother,

Aug 10 2017,
I’m glad to here things are doing well there however I’m a bit alarmed that Grantle ran into such troubles. His family and mine go way back in our mutual cooperation. How did the police bring him down? I thought both he and I had well placed informants there to alert us / dissuade them / spoil evidence in the odd case things didn’t turn out in our favor.
Thanks for the money – I’m glad to see business has expanded and things are going well. The amount you provided seems rather large – especially considering that you said more was waiting for me. Even with Grantle’s area gone, where is the additional money coming from? What were these missed opportunities?


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