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Who Spiked the Numb? #medhunt (attn: Super-Numbweed folks) #medhunt

Mya L. R.
 

When he'd heard about the expedition he'd assumed maybe, as being transportation the healers might give him some extra time to relax.  It wasn't until he saw how many people were actually going that he'd ditched the idea of peace and quiet for doing actual work.  Because he'd delayed in getting more assignments other than transporting people back and forth the options he had available were...less than ideal.  That would be the explanation for how he came to be standing over the numbweed pot.  Well the one he'd remember.

F'rdnar didn't see where the wineskins came from either.  As someone who never drank before he hadn't really paid much attention to those who were drinking.  Not until the wineskin was passed to someone in his view.  His eyes darted up his attention for a moment fully caught.  "Huh..."


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Member Name: MyaL
Discord: Neffeyn#8723

Jenna Cunningham
 

That wineskin? Hers.
 
Her? An asshole.
 
That is not true.
 
Sahari shot a look over the heads and bent backs of the herb-hunting Healers and Healer helpers, glancing at the blue dragon lounging half in, half out of the shade some distance away. Oachayth's multi-faceted eyes were half-lidded; he was clearly enjoying the warmth that had driven her to drink.
 
Well, somebody thought it was true, she reasoned, took another healthy swig from the wineskin and capped it, then jiggled the thing in front of the gape-faced whoever that was standing one pot down the line.
 
"Who'd you sharding well piss off?" She asked F'rdnar, mistaking him for a kindred spirit. Why else would he be stewing in numbweed stink?
 
Her one consolation was that whoever was unlucky enough to have to hitch a ride back with her afterwards would also, by proxy, reek to high heaven. She hoped it was somebody important, just so she could watch the stick twist up their butt.

I am flying back with you, you know. I will stink. Oachayth almost sounded plaintive, though there he was off in the distance, still lounging lazily, striped by the shade and sun.

No, she thought guiltily. I'll scrub the stink out of your hide before it can settle in.

And then, still holding it out to the young man, gave the wineskin another sloshing jig.

"Huh?"


(Sahari's wiry, darkly tanned, with some grey in her hair, and a nose that has obviously been broken and reset in the past - at least twice. There are pockmarks and scars and wrinkles on her face and bare arms. Her front tooth's chipped. She's got that slight upper arm flab sag that happens to older women, which sits at odds with the rest of her; she's like a tense, angry rubberband with hair.)

Mya L. R.
 

On Fri, Aug 3, 2018 at 5:17 AM, Jenna Cunningham <jenna.layne.cunningham@...> wrote:
That wineskin? Hers.
 
Her? An asshole.
 
That is not true.
 
Sahari shot a look over the heads and bent backs of the herb-hunting Healers and Healer helpers, glancing at the blue dragon lounging half in, half out of the shade some distance away. Oachayth's multi-faceted eyes were half-lidded; he was clearly enjoying the warmth that had driven her to drink.
 
Well, somebody thought it was true, she reasoned, took another healthy swig from the wineskin and capped it, then jiggled the thing in front of the gape-faced whoever that was standing one pot down the line.
 
"Who'd you sharding well piss off?" She asked F'rdnar, mistaking him for a kindred spirit. Why else would he be stewing in numbweed stink?
 
Her one consolation was that whoever was unlucky enough to have to hitch a ride back with her afterwards would also, by proxy, reek to high heaven. She hoped it was somebody important, just so she could watch the stick twist up their butt.

I am flying back with you, you know. I will stink. Oachayth almost sounded plaintive, though there he was off in the distance, still lounging lazily, striped by the shade and sun.

No, she thought guiltily. I'll scrub the stink out of your hide before it can settle in.

And then, still holding it out to the young man, gave the wineskin another sloshing jig.

"Huh?"


(Sahari's wiry, darkly tanned, with some grey in her hair, and a nose that has obviously been broken and reset in the past - at least twice. There are pockmarks and scars and wrinkles on her face and bare arms. Her front tooth's chipped. She's got that slight upper arm flab sag that happens to older women, which sits at odds with the rest of her; she's like a tense, angry rubberband with hair.)

F'rdnar looked toward the wineskin, pondering whether it might knock out his scene of smell as well as his tastebuds if he tried it.  In the ended he glanced toward the woman who was handing it to him and inclined his head.  "I've never tried any of the drinking stuff before.  I don't suppose it'll knoc' out my sense of smell for a little while will it?"  There was a little slip in his speech, a small one that he didn't actually notice at the moment.


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Member Name: MyaL
Discord: Neffeyn#8723

Jenna Cunningham
 

"Eh." She squinted a touch, pulling the wineskin back for another pull, then offered it out again, more freely: "Never tried the drinking stuff. How's that even happen? Got to be some kind'a..." She trailed off, pursuing her lips, then gave her head a hard shake. Whoever had given her this stuff hadn't been joking - it wasn't watered down. She felt heavy. "I'm Sahari. Don't think you're in my wing, but I'm re-cshent."