A little under a mile off Ascendant ground was a patch of disturbed earth under a stooped and gnarled fig tree. Beneath this earth was an oblong box not unlike a casket used for deceased youth. Within this casket was a durable leather pouch within which a concoction of mashed figs and crabapples fermented with the help of yeast scraped from the bark of a neighboring birch.
That all wasn’t there now, though. It was needed elsewhere.
The makeshift bota bag had been unearthed and carried back, slung over Radeken’s back. The place she brought it to was a quaint little setup in the grand circle with blankets and pillows slung around and candles set out but not lit because it was still daytime (Radeken just liked candles). Everything here had been stolen, including the pot that soon enough sloshed with the vinous contents of her bag (and a few chunks of glistening honeycomb added for...medicinal purposes). She’d look into returning things. Eventually.
Had it taken a long time to scrape together and was it still sort of shabby? Sure. Were others welcome to bring their own touches and snacks? Absolutely! And she made this very clear to clusters of npcs that wandered near, hoping they’d be kind enough to conveniently spread word of the function Radeken was setting into motion. She didn’t want to have to yell.
The wolf took a sip of what remained in the bag she had brought and coughed. Um. It’ll be fine. It was technically healthier than normal booze, right? Because...it was...made with love?? She shrugged and kicked the bota bag under a plush pillow and turned to the boombox she had dragged out of someone’s room. Should’ve locked your door... Radeken huffed, turning dials with her paws. She didn’t know how to work the damn thing. No sound was coming out. Is it even on? Did it have a disc in it...was that how they worked? Is it broken? She was...very close to guzzling down a dangerous portion of pruno in frustration.
That all wasn’t there now, though. It was needed elsewhere.
The makeshift bota bag had been unearthed and carried back, slung over Radeken’s back. The place she brought it to was a quaint little setup in the grand circle with blankets and pillows slung around and candles set out but not lit because it was still daytime (Radeken just liked candles). Everything here had been stolen, including the pot that soon enough sloshed with the vinous contents of her bag (and a few chunks of glistening honeycomb added for...medicinal purposes). She’d look into returning things. Eventually.
Had it taken a long time to scrape together and was it still sort of shabby? Sure. Were others welcome to bring their own touches and snacks? Absolutely! And she made this very clear to clusters of npcs that wandered near, hoping they’d be kind enough to conveniently spread word of the function Radeken was setting into motion. She didn’t want to have to yell.
The wolf took a sip of what remained in the bag she had brought and coughed. Um. It’ll be fine. It was technically healthier than normal booze, right? Because...it was...made with love?? She shrugged and kicked the bota bag under a plush pillow and turned to the boombox she had dragged out of someone’s room. Should’ve locked your door... Radeken huffed, turning dials with her paws. She didn’t know how to work the damn thing. No sound was coming out. Is it even on? Did it have a disc in it...was that how they worked? Is it broken? She was...very close to guzzling down a dangerous portion of pruno in frustration.