"So you're telling me..." said Gavo with flat disbelief, "...that your friend Boswick shits himself before every battle?"
Oswen groaned. "No, no, fuck, he doesn't shit himself, he parks the caravan before the battle begins—"
"I know, that's what I said."
"On the ground, not in his trousers."
"You don't need to tell me where it ends up, I already know, it tumbles down your pant legs and out it goes."
"I mean he pulls his—what the fuck how do you even know that."
Gavo made a show of coughing, glancing around the environs just outside the Broken Spoon inn, before hastily coming up with an excuse, "Come on, you know...dysentery is awful."
"Sure," Oswen said, chuckling. "Anyway, Boswick just pulls his trousers down, squats, fertilizes the field, and that's that. Look, Gavo, have you ever been in a pitched battle before? I mean, a looooong, drawn-out, pitched battle? It takes hours. It's better to empty your wagon before getting into the slog than filling up your trousers during it, because, take it from me, you don't have anywhere to go, and the last thing you want is to be caught literally with your pants down if some Kress-forsaken flank or rout or something happens."
"Hey, Oswen, look alive, Lady Oraya's coming back."
Eyeing a certain now-redhead, Oswen stated dryly, "Who in the hell is that with her?"
Moments later, Oraya, Zael, and Jerry all arrived outside the Broken Spoon. Zael took the initiative, "Greetings, gentlemen. Lord Zinnsworth, and a pleasure to make your acquiantances. Mighty fine time to run into some long time friends, eh?"
Both Oswen and Gavo, finding only a mildly bewildered look in their fellow Guardsman Jerry's face, looked to Lady Oraya. This fellow stank of being from Elbion, and while that was disagreeable in its own way, it was nothing compared to the sheer fact that neither Felix nor Lyon had said anything of this. Sure the..."Lord" Zinnsworth made it seem like a chance meeting, but...who the hell was this guy? And did Lady Oraya take trips to Elbion often?
Oraya Urahil
Oswen groaned. "No, no, fuck, he doesn't shit himself, he parks the caravan before the battle begins—"
"I know, that's what I said."
"On the ground, not in his trousers."
"You don't need to tell me where it ends up, I already know, it tumbles down your pant legs and out it goes."
"I mean he pulls his—what the fuck how do you even know that."
Gavo made a show of coughing, glancing around the environs just outside the Broken Spoon inn, before hastily coming up with an excuse, "Come on, you know...dysentery is awful."
"Sure," Oswen said, chuckling. "Anyway, Boswick just pulls his trousers down, squats, fertilizes the field, and that's that. Look, Gavo, have you ever been in a pitched battle before? I mean, a looooong, drawn-out, pitched battle? It takes hours. It's better to empty your wagon before getting into the slog than filling up your trousers during it, because, take it from me, you don't have anywhere to go, and the last thing you want is to be caught literally with your pants down if some Kress-forsaken flank or rout or something happens."
"Hey, Oswen, look alive, Lady Oraya's coming back."
Eyeing a certain now-redhead, Oswen stated dryly, "Who in the hell is that with her?"
Moments later, Oraya, Zael, and Jerry all arrived outside the Broken Spoon. Zael took the initiative, "Greetings, gentlemen. Lord Zinnsworth, and a pleasure to make your acquiantances. Mighty fine time to run into some long time friends, eh?"
Both Oswen and Gavo, finding only a mildly bewildered look in their fellow Guardsman Jerry's face, looked to Lady Oraya. This fellow stank of being from Elbion, and while that was disagreeable in its own way, it was nothing compared to the sheer fact that neither Felix nor Lyon had said anything of this. Sure the..."Lord" Zinnsworth made it seem like a chance meeting, but...who the hell was this guy? And did Lady Oraya take trips to Elbion often?
Oraya Urahil
