The Good Olde Days

[Tshael]

-This is a closed exercise for That Numbers Guy, or any character of his that he wishes to use-

There are over a hundred ways to bake bread, they say in Radasanth. The Dranak Tshael grew up with only one. In the wilds of Concordia, where the wheat fields were forced to yield to the tangles of the forest else be throttled out, bread was made with grains found deep in the verdant flora. The art of making these spicy soft breads was lost to Tshael for these were secrets held by the Moontae women who would give up nearly all knowledge and craft to the outsider...excepting that of their breads. These recipes she would never know, but the smell of baking bread would stay with her from her youth until she was a woman, crouching over the hearth of the Silver Pub's great fireplace.

The fireplace was all that had survived when the Pub burnt down. No cheerful oaken walls surrounded her now. The ashes of the once great establishment had long ago been taken by breeze, or hammered into the soil by both rain and the todding of feet of man and beast alike. How many times had she come here to walk over her barren land? It was far too many times to count, heaven knew. Now she fed a meager fire upon the blackened, cracking stones, an iron pot that had been found mostly intact from the wreckage waiting at the side. She'd let the dough rise in her hotel room, the morning sun warming it as she waited. When the fire had heated the close stones of the firepit to a rosy glow, she pushed the breadpan into the coals, and sat back on the dirt. She'd only just laid back and begun to watch as the clouds were washed in dusk's deep colors when the smell of warming dough wafted to her.

Even in all this destruction and desolation, her nose was trying to argue that with the buttery, floury smell, she couldn't be anywhere else but home.

[Breaker]

Joshua Cronen jogged through the otherwordly outskirts of the great city Radasanth. It was good terrain for a healthy run; rolling hills that gave way to driving flatlands that became more humps of green grass and brown earth. He ran with the wind at his back, so fast that it still seemed he was running into the breeze. Cresting rise after rise, plunging into valley after valley, his steady breathing a metronome that kept time for his pounding feet.

The smells of the forest made up his world as he ran. He developped near-tunnel vision, barely seeing anything but the hardpacked earthen road in front of him. But the smells of rotten stumps, clean springs, animal trails and ripening berries assailed him like noxious ninjas. Sweat flicked from his body as he raced along a particularly long stretch of flatland, and a particular smell caught his attention.

The odor didn't fit the woodland setting. It belonged in some grandmother's kitchen, pressed between iron pans and wooden rolling pins. The smell of baking dough, floury and wholesome, a smell which was normally masked by the sulfurous stench of the city. Could a bakery have been established so far out of the way? Josh's course altered almost naturally to investigate.

The hallowed shell of a burnt-out building embraced a single figure, unlike any creature Josh had seen before. She reminded him of the mythical centaur beings, but carried a grace and beauty that belayed humans and gods alike. Smoke rose from an enclosed firepit in front of her, and Josh wondered if that firepit had started the blaze that brought the place down. The smell of warming dough wafted from a pan in that firepit, and Josh slowed his pace to a walk. Stopping respectfully outside of the circle of ash, he hailed the four legged lady with a friendly wave, placing his hands upon his knees and breathing heavily until he could speak normally.

"Are you... whew, I'm a little exhausted. Are you alright, ma'am?"

He would not have asked such a question under ordinary circumstances, but it seemed odd to find someone baking bread in a desolate area, in a building that only existed in memory. Perhaps the poor woman had lost herself in the past, and still thought that walls surrounded her. Josh tried to guess where the door had been, and sidled towards it, walking like a praying mantis to stretch his rapidly cooling legs.

"May... may I come in?"

[Tshael]

She sat up at the voice, dried leaves that had drifted onto the grounds catching in her hair. Within the red tresses, she wore a halo and a crown of leaves and wilted flower petals, the hints of nature that was once again reclaiming the land in the absence of the business that had always stoutly graced the road to Radasanth. Her hair was more than just the vessel by which Nature crowned her, tho. It fell in long waves to cover her nude breasts, mingled the ends of it's tresses with the sides of her waist where skin gave way to soft fur. Her brow furrowed.

"You could enter here," she said calmly, her voice rich and thickly spiced with a Concordian flair, "were there any threshold to greet you. So here I say, be you ghoul or vampire or beast, that this place holds no protection against you but me." She smiled, the wariness never leaving amber eyes as the vines that had begun to grow thick and hearty around the edges of the stone firepit seemed to darken. Organic creaks could be heard as the vines flexed, sprouting thorns as quickly as Tshael had grown her toothy grin.

His first question seemed to finally sink in, from where it had been stopped, searched and questioned by the haze of her reveries. Some of her wariness receeded, though the vines within arms reach of her still twitched. A trap so naturally sprung could be called back easily, and while he didn't seem to post a threat, Tshael wasn't the kind to let just any stranger close. After all, that had all gone rather wrong before. No matter what kind of a woman any drunken Radasanthian claimed her to be, Tshael was above all a woman who learned from her mistakes.

"I'm quite fine. Do you inquire as such to everyone you find baking a spot to eat?"

[Breaker]

With a mature wariness beyond his twenty four years, Josh stepped over the extinct threshold. He felt a wave of power from the dranak, sensed the magic that she wove into the vines that had invaded the stone since the fire. He mused on the rebirth of such life in a place of destruction as he moved towards the woman, palms slightly uplifted to show he meant no harm.

Josh had felt all forms of magic, and learned to sense them as a chameleon learns to camaflouge itself to a new setting. His continued existence required that he be able to avoid fireballs flung by warrior mages, and so even before such a spell could be cast, Josh felt a blistering heat upon his skin. His sixth sense for detecting magic came differently in each instance, and yet it was entirely new and different from the dranak. What poured from her was emotion, a tangible caring for whatever the ashes had once been, and pain for the past they echoed.

Her words carried a musical, poetic element, and it took Josh a moment to realize what a fool he had been. Of course he would not have questioned a person he found cooking a meal between two trees. Why should the remains of a once homely pub be any different? And yet, the very nature of the place had caused him to focus on the wrong aspects of the situation.

The smell tugged at his tastebuds, and he paced closer to the firepit, never ignoring the vines but not fearing them either. He prided himself in near-irrational bravery, and the simple makeshift bakery was hardly fear inspiring. While his nose twitched towards the tendrils of pleasant smell, his eyes only sought to admire the dranak. He appraised her like a work of art, a statue molded by nature, and he the only witness to her colorful coronation.

"My apologies if I seemed rude," he said, and wiped a sheen of sweat from his forehead with an already soaked sleeve. His lightweight khaki clothing hung upon his sodden form, like the bark of an ancient tree. Feet shifting, perhaps a little awkwardly on the ashen floor, he nodded in a polite compliment at the baking bread.

"That smells delicious, and I've a talent for smells. Are you a baker by trade?"

[Tshael]

She watched him with eyes that had learned the hard way what to look for in a violent drunk. There were telltale signs of agitation that lived just beneath the surface, and the only thing she could glean from the jogger's body posture was a relaxes state of being, both with her and the place around him. She relaxed, only barely. Her shoulders turned down and she allowed her golden eyes to tear from him to the bread that was beginning to rise and gain a golden glow within the fire's warmth.

"Aye, somewhat," she answered at first, hesitating as she used a long shard of a shattered iron poker to stir the flames near the back of the hearth. A breath of warmth came rolling from it and she smiled as it brought with it the smells of her creation, even more strongly than before. The bread would be done soon, she knew. The top had bloated and was beginning to pull, showing the pale buttery inside in little gaps in the crust.

"The walls we sit upon and curse as pebbles used to be a tavern. The Silver. Have you heard of her?" she asked. "Ye don't quite sound like a Radasanthian. But if you have or haven't, it's been here a very long time. It stood when I came from the forest, and looked upon the stone cities for the first time. And until this last winter, it was my home, my business, my kitchen. I baked many loaves on this hearth, tho truth be told my ale is finer than my breads."

She gestured that he should sit with her, and set down the iron stick to watch him again. While she'd spoken, the vines had relaxed, forever changed to thorny things by the moment of her surprise, but now taking back their brighter colors.

"What of you?" she asked. "Does that nose turn your coins, or do you till your trade from other soils?"

[Breaker]

A low resounding chuckle resounded from Joshua's deep chest as he swept ash from a collapsed wall with a calloused hand. He sat facing the dranak and ran a hand through his thumb-length hair. The thick sweat that coated the brown strands held it spiked for a moment, like a wet hedgehog, and then it fell to its natural position. Josh had felt the same loss in the woman's short speech as her display of magic had emnated. An emotion too deep for him to truthfully find a word for it. It seemed she had moved on though, from whatever plagued her past, and as the gentle laugh mingled with the rising smoke, Josh answered her question.

"No, my nose never earned me money, but it has kept my head on my shoulders a few times." For a moment he remembered a flurry of action, the smell of an enemy's sweat behind him in a mysterious forest somewhere in Scara Brae. A perfumer he would never be, but he knew how to use his senses.

"To tel the truth, I haven't heard tell of the Silver, but I fear I am ignorant to the area. I earn my living with sweat and blood at the Dajas Pagoda in Scara Brae. My name is Josh Cronen."

He avoided asking if she had heard of him. Josh was not the sort to second guess himself in any situation. In his line of work, taking an extra moment to think could mean instant death. But something about the dranak's prying eyes told him she had seen others like him before. With her flowing hair and skin that seamlessly sprouted fur, she seemed like a river. Always a constant, unchanging force, sometimes thin, other times deep, she watched the world change around her. Even the mightiest tree would grow and fall while the river watched and rushed on, feeding the thirsting roots of the oaks and yews that stretched for the heavens. Modest, a river was, and an appropriately modest trade this magnificent woman had taken upon herself.

"If we had some of your ale, I'd drink a toast to the memories this place holds for you," he said, and smiled with an odd look in his eye.

[Tshael]

"Ah, the Pagoda!" she said, her eyes lighting up with recognition as she grinned. "An admirable duty, to prove your mettle amongst warriors. I once was a Master within the Pagoda's strata." Her voice carried more memory than pride, as she spoke, for her days at the Pagoda had been few indeed. "It came, however, at the wrong time. I could not have defended my place and raised my son at the same time, not the way I wanted. So I came home, to stay in my pub, and study the ways of my people."

By now the bread was beginning to take on the color of a gold piece that had been through the market a time or two, and she reached into the pit. Batting the iron pan quickly from the fire, she waved her hand, sucking on her fingers when at last she had scooted it out from the flames. She'd done this so many times that there was now no need to suck her fingertips from the hot surface, and now that the walls around them had been felled there was no need to use a windowsill to cool the bread.

"Should be ready in a small while," she muttered as she turned now to a simple burlap sack that had been propped inconspicuously by the firepit sides. The rattle of a small jar was heard, and a tink of glass on something hard, before she pulled out a medium flask. It was carved of wood, an unengraved brass plaque along the front. She held it out for him to take while she reached into the sack again with her free hand, pulling a small glass jar.

It was filled with golden liquid, a piece of honeycomb suspended inside. She set it at the edge of the hearth, and smiled as she sat back and waited for the bread to cool down. It had been a while since she'd come to visit the "burial ground" of her livelihood, for this place carried too many memories for her to visit when the blues were already wound all around her, but today had been calm enough for her to come back and pay her respects to the Pub, and she could think of no better way to do that than sharing a pint and breaking warm bread.

[Breaker]

The smell had danced through the air for some time, maturing as the bread grew brown and expanded. The corner's of Josh's mouth crept up at the sight of the dranak's puttering fingers that urged the pan from its berth among the flames. It had the long practiced familiarity of something she had done many times before, but he wondered how often the woman had invited a stranger to share the fireside ritual. Not too often, he liked to think, for it added a certain importance to his arbitrary decision of straying from his jog to invesitage the aroma.

He leaned forward and took the offered flask, his wide palm dwarfing the fine vessel. A few grains of soot slid from the rock that made his seat as he nodded his thanks. Powerful fingers popped the stopper without a hint of difficulty, and he raised the open flask to inhale its vapor. It smelled of strong spice and autumnal berries, a pleasant contrast that embellished the comforting quality of the cooling bread. The smell of the ale was like the centrepiece of an artistic arrangement, surrounded by the aroma of fresh bread. It was an odd contrast, the welcoming conversation and scents placed upon the canvas of grey and black cinders. When Josh sipped of the flask, the faint fruity texture bubbled in his throat, followed by the spicy deliciousness that hallmarked all good ale.

He held the flask up, eyes clearly praising its worth, and spoke the first words that came to his mind.

"To finding use in something that seems gone to the world, and the generosity of strangers who can see beauty amidst the ashes."

He held the flask out for the dranak to take, anxious to share her delicious brew in kind.

[Tshael]

She took the flask with a wry smile. It had been so long since she'd had a drink with friends. In the absence of Thoracis, everything had dulled. If she went back in her mind, she could remember the last time that she really shared a drink with someone else, and it had been before the ice mage had disappeared. The son he had left behind for her to birth and care for had been her only joy. With all gone now, there was a strange kind of freedom in drinking with the Pagoda fighter.

Now, she raised her flask in kind and as she held it to her lips, tilted her head only slightly as she thought of her own toast. After it had been spoken softly, committed to the wind in a delicate vessel, she drank deeply of the ale she so masterfully made year after year.

She had said, "To the Changes to which are in oath to Storms to see them through."

And wasn't that exactly where she was in her life? She smiled. Her armor lay hidden in the low pines that lined the path from the road to the pub's remains. And change would indeed come soon, as her journey tomorrow began. It felt strange, and so right to put the flask down between her and this Joshua, to dip her hands down to the bread and break a generous piece, and then another. She offered the bread freely, looking past him to the horizon.

Beauty in ashes, he said? She grinned now, with a feral glee. Beauty would indeed be born like the phoenix, and who would have thought that bread would be the catalyst?

[Breaker]

Josh accepted the bread with a half bow of gratitude, gladly sampling it in a small mouthful. The ale had served to whet his dormant appetite, and the dranak's offering slaked the yawning hole in his stomach. The honey clung to the roof of his mouth momentarily, absorbed soon by the hardy, seeded bread. Its warmth brought a pleasant feeling to his mouth and head, as though his brain had sunk into a hot bath.

He reflected on the moment, and the dranak's mysterious toast, as he chewed. This meeting stirred memories from his childhood, memories of a Josh Cronen long forgotten, one who did not hear a threat in every whisper, or see an assassin in every shadow. He could scarcely recall having any kind of innocence, any kind of naivety to the horrors of the world. So often he roamed the streets of Radasanth or Scara Brae at night, searching for crime to snuff out, an unnatural thirst for death upon him. He swallowed reflectively and bit into the bread once more, teeth tearing a combination of the sweet and savory flavors. Could it be that he had become so innvolved with death he had forgotten to live?

Josh licked honey from his lips, and returned the dranak's amicable grin. When had he last taken a moment to enjoy a simple meal? Too long ago, by a year or six. Food served the fighter as body fuel, eating no more or less a necessary function than breathing. It occurred to him that there was more to life than endings and beginnings, that perhaps the mesh in between mattered even more.

As he finished the bread, Josh found his gaze lingering about the coals and flames in the firepit. How should he depart, if at all, for the moment? His hazel eyes rose to her golden ones, two piercing gazes that met through the swirling smoke.

"Thank you for your generosity. Might I have your name, if only to spread word of the finest brewer and baker in Radasanth?"

[Tshael]

She laughed, a hearty belly laugh as she, too, finished the modest meal. She found his request a little strange. Not so much for her name, really. No, what she found odd is that he so willingly draped a peaceful mantle around their encounter. Perhaps it was just that he had battled so often that he wanted to find a quiet soul. She almost regretted that she would have to let him down.

"I have been called Tshael since before I stumbled from the weed and webs of Concordia, and my name as a mere tender to the Pub will come with recognition, yes. But before I plied my trade with cooking and housing the travelers of Corone, I was known as battlemaiden in black armor, who brought all of nature's wrath." Her smile was no less sweet than it had been so far, though her boasts were larger than they had been so far in the night. "Perhaps I shall take those steps again someday, and ply the Glories of the past against the new blood that stands in the Pagoda."

Her words were no more or less than the passive aggressive challenges issued back in her Glory Days. It was such a spoken thought that had brought her before Thoracis in the Citadel. It was the kind of challenge among friends and allies, where blood and revenge were nowhere to be seen, until two warriors clashed on the field. And Tshael had always found it to be the best kind of all.

[Breaker]

Josh tried to look impressed as the dranak rattled through a list of accomplishments, but reverence was not an expression his face knew how to form. Tshael's presence and personality had impressed him more than words of wonderous battle ever could.

Tshael. He recalled the name, from the early days of the Pagoda, when he had been just starting out, a warrior in the lowest rank. She had been a master, the same position he now held, but her name had faded from the ranks like smoke swept away in the wind. Josh chuckled in company with the laughter of his companion, their merriment an odd chorus of unharmonized melody.

"Well Tshael, if you ever do climb those fabled steps again, beware of the pointed elbows my open arms conceal."

He enjoyed the game of cryptic verbal play, seldom having time to match wits with a friendly warrior, too often matching might instead. The gentle joke was as much warning as Josh would give anyone save a student as to his methods of combat. To him, much of the mystic philosophy of martial arts still held strong.

His sweat evaporated, vanishing into thin air almost as if the fire could burn it from so far away. He could scarcely feel the flickering warmth, although the mild day did not call for closer proximity to the flame. He examined Tshael in the new light her name and previous actions had cast upon her. Could the gentle curves of her body truly house the kind of violence he was used to? Contrary to the norm, he felt little desire to find out. Any damage he caused to a woman who emitted such a powerful past would seem like a crime against nature.

[Tshael]

She paused in thought as the sound of birds singing in the nearby trees almost covered up the sound of churchbells ringing in the city. They were still close enough to hear the huge brass maidens belting out their tune, and Tshael worried for a moment that she had overstayed her tribute here. Were she to accomplish her task alone, she would need to work quickly. But really, she thought, should she go alone?

"This place is familiar to me, more than just knowing and loving what once stood on this ground. In the lore of my people, there is a place of ashes, where once the fires of passion once burned, but as my people died, their spirit followed suit. Now it is nothing but char, a few small flames burning for those of us who refused to take the fall. The Dranak are very practical.... we do not tell tales for things we've never seen."

The maps for Nuit had been lost in the fire, but Tshael knew them by heart. Every step, every note, every name, she pored over them when the bar had closed and she waited for Tsyliss to fall asleep.

"Do you fear such places?" she asked lightly, smiling. "In the Ashlands, there are beasts and spirits that wander to defend what has become rightfully theirs. There is a great secret to traversing the wasteland, the legends say. For what else does Death fear, but Life?"

[Breaker]

Echoes of brazen bells bounced from far off, caught in the curve of Joshua's keen ears. The melancholy sound seemed to incur a shift in Tshael's mood, for her eyes drew inwards on themselves, like golden headed turtles hiding from danger. Only, the danger was a memory, or perhaps the possibility of days to come. Josh repressed the urge to shiver as her haunting voice bespoke more riddles of untold adventure.

He replied, "I've never encountered a place I feared, but that leads me only to believe my travels have yet to end." His hand motioned in the air, like clearing dust from an opened chapter of an ancient text. "Death has nothing to fear save itself, I suppose," he chose his words carefully, unused to feeling such weight in a simple statement. "For what does the possibility of life mean but the inevitability of more death?" Allowing his words to sink into the ashen surroundings like stones into a pit of tar, he grasped the flask and sipped of the ale once more. Replacing the vessel, he felt his tongue loosened by its refreshing bubbly texture.

The wind changed, and brought porous goosebumps to his skin, while a feeling of benevolence descended upon him. With lack of a better purpose, he had made himself a helper to the needy throughout Corone, acting as a sort of law within the law. Tshael had shown him a generosity not often displayed, and with nothing to offer in return save his skills and time, he spoke simply.

"You are troubled, Tshael. Is there something I might aid you with?"

[Tshael]

She played with the seeds before her as he offered his ear. They'd fallen off the top of the bread, and now they were little golden specks in the soot. Finally she stilled her hand, palming the roasted seeds while she looked up. It was a hard tale to tell, and underneath the fall of red hair she still had the bruises from half the story. Finally, she steeled her reserve to ask for assistance from a stranger.

"My son was taken from me, and taken into the Ashland. He's a strong child, but still yet a babe. I leave at sunset tonight, to find my way there, through bramble and weed covered path. I know the way, the maps are in my mind, but the place isn't of this world, or rather the physical one. I know not what tools I might or might not have once I pass through to that other side."

She sighed, opening her palm where the seeds, roasted only moments before, were starting to sprout meager brown leaves from an opened seam.

"But go I will, alone or not."

[Breaker]

"You needn't go alone, I will accompany you."

The chivalrous words were out of his mouth before he could think them through clearly. It seemed a rush, a hasty decision, perchance a bad one. And yet, he felt a the call of adventure stronger than ever before, like the distant note of a trumpet crying for assistance. The strength of need beyond all desire was in her eyes, and more than he hesitated to go with her, Josh could not bear the idea of living with himself if he abandoned the dranak to search alone.

"I mean," he amnded himself, leaning closer to Tshael, "if you have need of assistance from a strong back and sharp mind, I will help. Perhaps before long you will show me something that strikes fear in my heart."

He reached out gently, his wide palm envelopping hers and folding her hand around the sprouting seedling. He could feel the magic radiating from her again, a wave of necessity, the undertow of which pulled him ever closer to the dranak. Neither himself nor anyone else in Radasanth could require his services so much as Tshael just then. Josh squeezed her hand, a reassuring gesture, his eyes sending a calming message that words could not equate. For a moment he stayed like that, and then broke eye contact and stood up, the ash grinding beneath his feet.

"I'll need to return to my inn briefly, to retrive a few travelling necessities. But I can be back before the sun breaches the tree line. Will you wait for me until then?"

[Tshael]

She nearly laughed again, wondering if perhaps it was he who should wear the armor on this venture. He had certainly jumped into it as a knight, though maybe she had baited him a bit. It wasn't that she had meant to, but perhaps she'd only done it subconsciously to keep from going into this alone. She couldn't remember a time she'd taken a step into the histories of her ancestors without a friend by her side.

"I will be here," she said, forcing herself to relax so that her emotions and hope could release it's grip on the seedling. "I will need an hour or so to prepare as well, for I go today in my armor, with my weapon. Where we go, I am very doubtful my magic will hold much sway. We will not be of the earth there."

She sat back, slipping her hand from his and began to prepare the rest of the bread for their journey. As she crumbled what remained in the iron pan, leaving the honey in the cooling hearth, she began to whisper her prayers, for a successful hunt, and strength as solid as the unyielding rock beneath the soil, but mostly that they would find Tyliss safe and sound, in the place where Death breathed the wind, cried the rain, and formed the roads with His obsidian hooves.

Spoils: Cracked Iron pan, filled with half a loaf of bread

[Breaker]

Her whispered prayers sped Josh on his way, as if her words carried an enchantment that quickened his steps. He flew with the accuracy of an arrow, falling into the path he had previously abandoned, but with a new intent. His gait was one of postured precision, a near-mechanical sprint that would deliver him to the heart of Radasanth and back more swiftly than most would imagine possible.

Josh had flirted with death for far too long, soaking the streets in the blood of footpads and cutthroats. His strength came not from his ability to kill, but his capacity to do so. The weight of so many murders might have weighed on a normal man's shoulders, an anchor to sink him in an ocean of his own regret. But Breaker was a strong swimmer, and any who met his gaze would know he was no ordinary mortal. As he leapt a hilltop, a khaki-clad blur, it occurred to him that the death he dealt would not need to catch up with him; he was going to it, in the wake of a dranak named Tshael.

The wind could not keep up with him as he outpaced the turning of the world. Brown dirt pounded away beneath his boots, a bull in full charge, and nothing would stop him until he had his supplies and returned to Tshael's side. His sudden acceptance of a mission so vast estranged him, but strangest of all was the fact that he felt anticipation, not anxiety, at the prospect of locking horns with the demons of hell.

[Raelyse]

I liked this thread – I really did. It showed a side of two warriors that I haven't seen often. I enjoyed seeing what Tshael and Josh were like when they were not in fear of imminent danger. This, however counted against you. I know that you wanted character interaction, but it was a bit suspicious on my part how quickly they jumped from strangers to bread-eating, ale-drinking buddies. But it wasn't to the point of being completely unbelievable, thanks to solid writing on both of your parts. Overall, I felt that the introductions and conclusions were well-written and solid on both of your parts but I found the center to be a bit lacking and the absence of any ground shaking climax didn't make for the most exciting thread. But I guess in a thread about bread, there's not much to shout off the rooftops.

Story

Continuity – 6 – I felt this was decidedly average. You mentioned what they were doing but I would have liked to know what they were doing just prior to the events of this thread in greater detail. That said, you didn't totally immerse me in the thread and at least gave me a little nibble to feed on.
Setting – 7 – You two really made the remains of the Silver Pub come alive. What held you back from a higher score was that it wasn't really described in as much detail as I would have liked.
Pacing – 6 – I don't think you guys were going for an epic thread that kept my eyes hanging on every word so this score reflects that. Some posts were filled with nothing happening except them talking, reminiscing and looking around and eating.

Character

Dialogue – 8 – I thought that Sesame Street Sponsors did really good with this. I especially liked his barb about pointed elbows. Tshael wasn't that far behind and her character's lines were clever and snappy. I think it's a compliment that I always wanted to know what the response was after I had finished reading the previous line.
Action – 6 – I think that you guys could have scored more points here if you had started with a fight, or at least a few dirty looks before getting all buddy buddy. Josh and Tshael are warriors and you two write battles well, so I was disappointed when there was no fighting. Their muscles are wasted on bread eating. Another thing is the fact that these two are so world-traveled yet trust each other's company so quickly was a bit unbelievable. You sold it, but a few more posts of suspicion would have given you a higher score here.
Persona – 7 – Keep in mind the stuff I wrote above, but I gave you an extra point because I liked how you kept referencing the past to give more flesh and meat to your characters. Particuarly, I liked the references to Thoracis and Numbers acknowledging the person he was now.

Writing Style

Technique – 8 – Strong here for obvious reasons. A few metaphors were strange at first glance, but a second read quickly made sense. It gave a quirky, interesting feel to your writing.
Mechanics – 7 – Solid with few mistakes.
Clarity – 7 – I don't think there was any part where I was confused but a better description of the pub would have made things a bit more clear.

Wild Card – 7 – I liked this thread. Reminds me of Seinfeld, a show about nothing. This was a thread about nothing but it was interesting to see the character interactions and flowery metaphors. You can do better, but I don't think that was the idea behind this thread.

Total Score – 69

Tshael gains 1954 EXP, 170 GP and her spoil.
016573 gains 2617 EXP and 190 GP