Gentyl returned from her honeymoon, relaxed to the point of wearing a dress every day, maybe opening a small shop and settling down. It was time.
She stopped at the tax office and inquired about a permit to open a shop.
The human barely looked up at her when she rang the bell on the counter. "I'm right here. No need to ring the stupid bell. Take a number."
Gentyl looked around. "I'm the only one here."
"So it shouldn't take you too long to take a number then."
She took a number and sat down to wait. Fifteen minutes later he called her number. "State your name."
"You know me."
"State your name."
"Gentyl D'Amond-Turncutt."
He raised a brow. "Turncutt?"
She smiled. "Yes. I got married two weeks ago. I've been off on my honeymoon."
"Gods, finally found someone, huh? Thanks a lot. I just lost five gold. Didn't figure you'd ever find anyone."
Gentyl flinched. "I'm not that bad. Plus my chastity cat is missing. It makes things a bit easier to date when a huge feral druid isn't ripping arms off men if they sit too close."
"Yeah, yeah. State your business."
"I want to open a bakery."
He dropped his quill and fell off his chair laughing. When he finally caught his breath, he wheezed out. "You? You've been banned by the king from baking."
"That was a slight misunderstanding. I intend to petition him to lift the ban."
"Good luck with that one. He's still replacing windows and chunks of wall from your cookies the horde bought to use for projectile missiles."
"I'm getting better. I've been practicing."
He picked up his quill. "In whose oven? All bakers have been warned not to let you use their ovens under penalty of law."
"Forget it. I didn't want to bake anyway." She huffed out of the office and to the Recluse to restore her peace. She'd sit down with a nice cup of tea, maybe a cherry grog, and relax before she went to the guild hall to check on the troops.
Joachim promptly presented her with a bill for 98 gold for cherry grog, signed for by Mira and Meriste, her squires. "What's this for?" she asked.
"They said they were told to keep Traveler happy while you were gone."
"I wanted him fed and groomed and given a little grog for his knees. The last thing I need is a war horse who's been on a two-week bender." She paid the bill and ordered some spiced tea.
Ah, yes, this works. Now, what kind of shop should she open? Maybe she should learn to sew and open a tailor shop.
The rogue hit her before she could even dodge. She fumbled for her weapon and fought back, but if it hadn't been for the other patrons in the inn, her new husband would have been a widower the first day back at shore.
A small note stuck out of the forsaken's pocket. "Welcome home!" was scrawled in crude letters.
She read the note and stared down at the rogue's body. "Umm, thanks Icharis."
A man she had never met staggered over to her and got down on one knee, after several attempts, then lifted up a rose. "I halff loved you from the firsht time I ever shaw you."
Gentyl looked around to see if this was some kind of joke. "Do I know you?"
"Nope, jusht shaw you."
"Then how do you know you love me?"
He extended the bedraggled rose. "Will you marry me?"
"I'm already married, sir."
"Shomebody shtole you while I washn't looking?"
Gentyl looked around the inn. "What's happening, please?'
"Your new love potion passion punch," replied a patron.
"What? I don't make potions. Certainly not love potions."
He handed her the flier listing all the flavors of punch laced with LV-o1 potion and sponsored by Gentyl.
"What the fel? I didn't sponsor a passion punch."
"Yes, you did," said Zaium. "You said you wanted to potions tested before you sent them to the horde."
"I said I wished the horde would make more love and less war and sending them some limes to improve their romantic humours might be a good idea." She hooked her thumb at the rogue lying on the floor who had tried to kill her a moment ago. "Maybe if he's busy courting some cute forsaken female he won't be trying to kill me all the time."
"I don't think the forsaken have any humours, romantic or otherwise, Gentyl," a man said from across the inn where a smitten barmaid had him cornered. "Madam, please, take your hands...no, please, really, not in public."
Gentyl looked around the inn again. Maybe she'd just head to the practice field. It was much more peaceful there.
((The roleplay on CC is seldom what you expected.))
Edited by Gentyl on 8/24/2011 12:33 PM PDT