Something Brewing

March 10, 2019
====Wilko, Carrick

Renegade Camp - Hidden Campsite
Nothing more than a copse surrounded by tall dried grasses conceals this small makeshift camp. A circle of stone sits in the center; the remnants of an old fire reduced to coals left behind by the previous occupants, the ashes long since blown away from the wind. Two fallen sun-bleached trees sit on either side of this circle, likely offering seating to anyone stopping here briefly for the night.


Dinner might be over, but that doesn't mean the cookfire has been deserted. Various folks are still either enjoying the warmth on this chilly autumn night or require the light for other purposes. Wilko happens to be one of the more industrious denizens of the small camp. The man has settled onto a blanket with a sack that he's currently digging supplies out of. Canisters, scoops, empty packets and more galore. Give him enough time and a one man apothecary might appear.

One step after another, this is what brings Carrick to the campsite, sauntering along and humming to a distant tune only he can hear. Though his uncovered eye is half-lidded, he's still taking in the sights and sounds of the grounds. Usually, when it's a local, they know to leave certain things hanging from trees so they're not bothered on the ground. When there's nothing left behind, though, it definitely gains his suspicion… and curiosity. Sticks break beneath his boots, deliberately, as he moves closer. "Might want to be careful with how you unpack. If anything is left behind, well… Finders keepers," said in sing song while the man reaches up, shoving his pale hair from his face. Peering back at the stranger is a pair of eyes, one bright, and one solid white. Unseeing as it's nestled upon a face riddled with burn scars that vanish into hairline and collar both.

Wilko has a purpose for this madness, even if it's not immediately evident. At Carrick's warning, he gives a grunt and a shrug before beginning to sort out some of those little empty satchels and one of his scoops. "Don't intend to leave any of it behind." He opens the first canister and an unmistakable waft of tea comes out. "Gonna need every single leaf."

"Keep in mind," Carrick purrs to a drawl, "That you're surrounded by leaves. Just watch your inventory, otherwise nature will. The winds here like to just… Hrm, pop up without warning." The man shoves his hands into his pockets, and his good eye glances around, scanning the trees above before slowly peering across the surrounding landscape. There's plenty of places he can look into the campsite, but those places aren't visible from within. The tells show safety for now. "So what are you going to do with all those leaves? Build a tree?"

Just on cue, the wind picks up just a bit and Wilko quickly reaches out to place a rock on his empty sachets before they can fly away. "Extra leaves won't hurt nothing. Consider it filler or something." He gives a snort, either for his inventory or the man's last question or possibly both. "Nah. I plan to sell them. Hear Xanadu might got themselves a plague or something." Those words probably aren't usually uttered with a grin, but they are tonight.

"Plague?" And now you have the man's attention. Hands are pulled from his pocket and he picks a nice safe tree to lean against as he sits down on the ground, outside of arms reach so he can claim distance as a reason to not help against the wind. "That sounds absolutely dreadful. Tsk, tsk, those poor dragonriders. It's not making the dragons shit in the air while you're walking down below, does it? Otherwise, I need to stay away from Xanadu. Plagues are no joke, the whole weyr isn't gonna have much going in our out. Gonna be a boring road trip." Carrick reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. Strips of dried meat emerge and he takes one out and holds it in his mouth. The rest are covered once more and shoved back into his pocket for safe keeping.

"If rumor is right, you might be a bit too old to be concerned about this particular plague," Wilko explains as he adds some different dried leaves from another of his jars and a pinch of something else as well. "Sleepwalking kids or some shit like that." He gives a shrug. "Doesn't sound too bad, but one of their holders got his panties in a wad cause his brat got searched and became one of the 'victims'. Figure the areas around Xanadu probably looking for anything that can keep themselves and their lot safe."

"Believe all the rumors about me. You'll be partially right, at the very least." Carrick chuckles low and he sighs, interweaving his fingers behind his head as he reclines. "That could be lucretive. All those panicking parents wondering if their precious children are being taken care of. Of course little Bobbert couldn't possibly have a massive case of the shits, spouting obscenities or describing parental activities in the throw of a fever. I'm curious how this is gonna pan out. You gotta come back and share the tale with me. Don't forget us little people, we thrive on stories." Smirk.

Another snort that passes for Wilko's laugh at that. "I'll at least be entertained if I believe all the rumors." The filled satchel gets tied up and tossed into another bag and he begins to repeat the process. Again and again and again. In between filling, he gives a nod of confirmation. "Exactly what I'm thinking. Plus, you got your 40-turn old women who want to still believe they're teens at heart panicking that they might be the next ones to catch a case of the wandering feet. If you feel a hankering for stories, Southern's a big continent. Monaco is probably getting a bit antsy too. I got more than enough to spare." a hand waves to the plethora of tea and other supplies.

"Rumors keep me just as entertained," Carrick admits. "Sometimes I start some of my own, though, those ones usually end up in me being paid. Except one, I got someone in Fort thinking I'm an ugly woman." Tiny tits and everything. He continues chewing on that piece of dried meat, ripping off thin strips with his teeth. The one-eyed man glances at it, holding it up to the light. "These got extra flavor, I need to remember to get these ones next time." What kind of meat are they? There's no telling! It's all secret recipe! The only assurance he got was that it wasn't another person, so he'll have to be good with that.

Wilko glances over at Carrick, giving the other a serious once over. "Do I even want to know how that one got started? Although if they think you're a woman, should make it easier to disappear if needed?" He shrugs. Definitely not a stranger to giving false name or information or pretty much as little truth as possible. The jerky is eyed as well, mostly for future reference. "Any particular flavor?" Because that bag of tricks of his doesn't just have teas in it.

Carrick says, "To tell you the truth, I don't even know how that one got started. I just make sure I drop in for tea where the aunties are, listen to what they gossip about and uh, drop interjections or key words at good points and let them do all the work for me." Beam. Carrick is such a ladies man (but not really), isn't he? As for the jerky… "I like the sweet and spicy stuff. Contrasts the booze quite a bit. Good to take on the go, gotta have a little protein with those leaves." He reaches into his pocket and tosses the wrapped paper over to Wilko, sharing in his jerky. "Keep that, it travels well. I can get more in the Tradery.""

Ladies man or lady man, what's the difference really? Wilko isn't judging, truly. He might even be taking notes for his own future reference. "Gossip can be gold. Probably wouldn't go as far as wearing a dress personally.." But it's gossip that's got him planning this whole endeavor after all. He catches the wrapped package and gives it a sniff and a little nibble. "Brown sugar, crushed pepper and some soy sauce. Works for steaks as well."

"I'll remember that, sounds like a winning combination and I do love me a good steak." Carrick shoves himself to his feet with a heavy sigh, just in time for a firelizard to come hissing across the sky. Carrick gives her a pat, but she continues her angry hissing and chittering with wings held partially open. "I better get back on schedule, otherwise she'll eat my eye balls if I don't get her some fish. Good luck to you on your travels." With that, he pushes off of the tree, with hands shoved in pockets and the man wanders lazily down the path to parts unknown.

"As long as she lets you keep your ears. I'll be back with some stories in a month or so," Wilko gives a bit of a wave as the other man pushes off. And then for the moment at least he can work mostly un-disturbed. Packets upon packets upon packets of tea and even a few jars of oils for any gullible enough to believe it.


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