❪ introlog: #2 ❫ THE CALM. -- the overflow.

[natha]

ORIGINAL POST

You have spent the last few days on Thesa Station, taking in the knowledge that your world is no more. Perhaps you’ve made some friends (or maybe an enemy or two). Either way, you aren’t expected to spend all of your time on the Station. El Nysa needs you, after all, and you promised you’d help the planet thrive. Are you ready? Submit any AC eligible thread of participating in this log's prompts for Two (2) Olympia REP points HERE. TRAVEL LIGHT     You're really lucky, new refugee. Because of the efforts of those that came before you, your own descent into El Nysa will be quick and relatively painless. You get to reap the benefits of others' experience. Those that came before you are all well-versed in the art of teleportation now, and descending into El Nysa is simply a concentrated thought away. A teleporter has been placed in the common areas to help the new refugees descend, but for this first time, you're going to need a little guidance. You're going to need to take the hand of someone who has been on El Nysa for a while now and learn the ropes. Hold on tight, Refugee, and don't be afraid when the blinding light hits you. The actual journey will feel like a sudden whiplash— painless, but sudden, and maybe a little nauseating. Keeping your balance may be difficult, and it’s possible you might end up toppling onto your poor partner. Hopefully you’re at least thankful. You have landed in a back alley in the Residential District of Olympia. HOME SWEET HOME     Immediately, you notice that everything you've been told about El Nysa is true. There are people of all races here, and although no one bats an eye at your appearance as you enter the district, a member of the Royal Guard asks for your passport. They have a keen eye, and can tell that although you may be a new refugee to their city, they've never seen you before. Certain rumors of an outside force making preparations to do some major damage has them particularly on edge. It's a good thing the Orbiters made sure you have an Olympian passport ready to go. You present it, and with a small nod, the Guard says nothing more and slaps a patch on your chest; to your surprise, it reads: Hello! My name is ________________! I am in House #___! Are you my housemate? ... No matter how much you try, there's no removing this sticker. "It'll come off tomorrow," says the guardkeep. "Lots of refugees here, limited housing. It's an easy way to get to know the people you're living with. Though, if you ask me, why are we accepting so many foreigners when so many want to watch this city burn? Well, I don’t give the orders." If someone greets you, the message on the patch will magically change: Secretly, I _____, _____, and _____! What are yours? There's no telling how they'd known these things, but it likely has to do with Zasere. AGAIN. It may be a good idea to get situated in your new home and set down some ground rules with your roommates. There is also, of course, much of Olympia to explore. FLONA COVE     Word around the city is that one very cute and enthusiastic Olympian, You Watanabe, has been asking around earnestly for the nearest place to find some coastal fun. It didn't take long before a few locals pointed her in the direction of Flona Cove. Maybe it’s a good idea to check out the area. There are only a few more days left of summer, after all. Even if you're not the beach type, exploring a new area certainly can't hurt your understanding of El Nysa. Flona Cove is just a quick train ride away. BEACH PARTY: Chances are, you've heard about the beach party being organized by You Watanabe, whether it be from her directly or someone who knows her. A lot of careful planning has gone into it, and it looks like a great time, so why not check it out? Full speed ahead towards a great time! There's plenty of food for everyone, and plenty of watermelons that need splitting! 1. Various food vendors from around Flona Cove have agreed to offer free food for the new refugees, and they line the shoreline near the harbor, enthusiastically offering goodies such as seafood kabobs, ice cream, fresh fruit (including whole watermelons!), and hot dogs. You Watanabe herself has a grill where she’s cheerfully serving up her trademark "Niceoodles" yakisoba as well as other Japanese food like takoyaki and rice. What makes her noodles so nice? It’s obviously the cheerful smiley-face sun drawn on the omelette. In exchange, the chefs and vendors only ask that you spread the word, though most of them have buckets for donations if you want to help chip back in. After the party is all done, however, there seem to be plenty of dishes that need doing, all in a big pile. You herself is working on getting through the mountain of dishes, but maybe you could lend a hand? 2. It's just not a beach party without the traditional watermelon splitting! For those of you who don't come from modern Japan on Earth, it might be perplexing at first seeing the literal mountain of watermelons grown with the help of Keyleth, another recent Olympian. If the bat-like sticks and blindfolds next to them don’t explain the purpose, though, you might just sit back and watch as a brave competitor sets a watermelon on the sand, ties a blindfold around their eyes, and has people start yelling at them which way to go. They consider the shouts of the crowd, take a swing... and strike nothing but sand. Perhaps you can do better? There are beach activities galore. Now's the time to build the sandcastle of your dreams or play a game of beach volleyball. Maybe you're brave enough to surf the waves, or you’d just like to enjoy a swim. Mom friends who just want to lounge in the sun and read a book while working on their tan are welcome too, of course. BENEATH THE SURFACE: 1. Diving beneath the waters in Flona Cove yield a whole new world on its own. Rent a scuba suit and take a trip to explore the corals, and you may even be lucky enough to run into a playful school of dolphins. Be careful-- they tend to get carried away and will happily drag swimmers for a wild ride. 2. You might want a boat for this scuba adventure, unless you're a strong swimmer. Venture deeper into the ocean, farther away from the coast, and adventurers will find some interesting stuff. Two miles southwest of the harbor, deep, deep into the watery abyss, lies a shipwreck. Exploring through the various rooms of the ship yields a few knick-knacks here and there-- rusted spare parts, cracked tea sets... a surprisingly well-preserved pin-up painting of Koralle? The real treasure awaits for those who have the courage to swim beneath the ship's hull. Here, covered in algae and debris, lies the skeletal corpse of a winged, fanged, clawed beast. This is only a distant memory of its former glory, as nothing but bones are left, but something— something brilliant, catches your eye. Those hundreds of teeth are not bone, but a material so lustrous and pure, it nearly blinds. It will take some work, but with persistence and strength, it is possible to extract a tooth. Those that work in Simwe Institute or The Sanctuary may find it beneficial to take an extra for their boss— this is definitely something that is of interest to study. 3. Olympians love their luxury. There's nothing more luxurious than a secluded lagoon, the water at just the perfect temperature and pristine. This is one of the most sought-after spots for the natives, but when you come across it, it is completely peaceful and empty. For the tourists? Well, this place simply gets overlooked due to its distance from the main beaches. It's also relatively hidden. Soon you start feeling oddly friendly? Cupid’s Pool is also described by the people of Olympia as the touchy-feely pool. It has an inherent property that makes those who soak in it crave physical affection. Chances are you probably wanted to know this before you decided to take a dip, huh? (Please warn for threads appropriately) EARN SOME SILVER     1. While many of the locals came together to offer their hands to provide a bit of entertainment for the surge in tourism, that isn’t to state that they’re fully staffed. Have a few hours to spare? They're willing to pay for your help. Maybe you’re just the cooking champ they needed? The lifeguard who showed up just in time? Or the star salesman at their humble accessory shop so desired? 2. The man who approaches you is even offering more than most of the vendors down the street. Sure, the guy and his entourage look kind of shady, but money is money, isn't it? If you accept, he’ll shove a strange swimsuit or two your way and lead you to the dressing room. What kind of job is this? Modeling, he says. Hopefully you aren’t camera shy! Hey there, hot stuff. I like your look. Or maybe it's your... aura? Either way, I like what you're working with. How about you flaunt what you've got for some fat silver stacks? He also wants to be able to test your charm, and is willing to pay a whopping 400 silver in exchange. He may even ask you to go "talk" (did you hear him say "hit on"?) to a couple of people, and “sell” yourself. Whatever that means... Incidentally, he says he’ll give you a signal once you get a pass. Feels like forever, doesn’t it? 3. Once night begins to fall and the people gradually begin to clear out, you’ll notice something... odd. There are some shady looking people around, and maybe you’ve been hearing whispers all day about a certain "fight club." Initially, no one will tell you a time or location, but if you are persistent, your efforts will pay off. Perhaps in light of helping a vendor clear out their stall or assisting that one Olympian native in distress, they’re willing to tell you a few things about this exclusive club. They explain to you that it’s been a long-standing tradition of Olympia. Secret fight clubs. A place for people to stretch their wings and their fists. Moreover, the pay off seems to be pretty good! Though, they warn you that there are some aggressive competitors out there this time around. Things have been tough politically for a while now, and there is much unrest among the people. What better way to blow off some steam than to beat someone up and make a bit of bank! Fights are not to the death, simply until a knock out, but accidents (and "accidents") do happen. Finding the crowd of people will take some searching, even with directions. They meet along the northern coast of Flona, by following a path leading underground, well away from any civilization. Once you’re there, why not participate? You may find yourself facing off against a fellow refugee. OOC     An AC-eligible thread for 2 OLYMPIAN REP POINTS may be submitted from this log. SUBMIT THE THREAD HERE by OCTOBER 15 11:59 PM EST. In the event of CAPTCHA, we will be providing an overflow. In the event of a second CAPTCHA, players are advised to move threads to an overflow post on their character journals. These threads remain eligible for AC, AC Rewards, and REP. 1 SILVER = 1 US DOLLAR. QUICK NAV premise ● faq ● world ● map ● reputation ● npcs taken ● reserves ● application calendar ● hiatus/drops ● modbox [ FULL NAVIGATION ] elnysa nysalogs nysaisles nysaooc elnyan

Comments

[doggo]

[Sirius takes that correction into stride. He's a man who is used to that sort of past tense editing. Coming of age during the lead-up to the war meant everyone knew someone who had disappeared, someone who had been killed, someone whose mother was snatched out of her garden, whose squib brother was tortured into madness and Saint Mungo's. Students pulled out of class by their Head of House rarely came back, and it wasn't until dinner that you found out the full story, either by reading the Prophet or reading the letters from home. When the war began in earnest, it only got worse.

Now they've all had something lopped off, cut out of their lives. Whole worlds, planets, cities. Even a bastard known for betraying his friends gets a pass on that stumble.]

Not my people. But I think the Americans had something to do with the effort.

[If only because he remembers his father saying something about it, with disdain.]

What's a man of your status doing on a planet like that? Advancing himself?

[vorrutyer]

Drinking himself into oblivion, actually.

[ By grins at Sirius, all casual unconcern now. Not a crack in his facade. ]

You might be shocked to hear this, given my sparking wit and charming personality, but I was actually considered something of a disgrace by my pre-eminent clan. Indeed, I am dis many things - dissolute, disreputable, disrespectful, and above all else, disinherited.

[ Not entirely true, as his nametag attests. It had been his decision to prune himself off the family tree. But most people tend to be more satisfied and content with the they hated me explanation than the I hated them explanation. Raises fewer questions. ]

And you, my shimmering star? How do you occupy your time?

[doggo]

Hunting. Mostly.

[It's a private joke, in the style of furry little problem. The sort of joke that Remus might not-quite smile at, if he was here. The fact that he isn't here doesn't stop Sirius from making the joke. Hunting rats, in more ways than one.]

It's an unimaginable relief to be able to walk into a shop and offer money.

[The revealing nature of that nametag means that Sirius is a bit reluctant to feel any sort of kinship with Vorrutyer. And yet he appreciates disinheritance on a very deep level.]

Found anything very good to drink here? As you're a professional and all. I'd be interested in more of a whiskey than what they've offered so far.

[vorrutyer]

[ He taps the side of his nose and winks. ]

Dear heavens, if I didn't know where to get a whiskey yet, then I'd have to relinquish my title of failure, drunken disgrace, and embarrassment to our ancient line. [ He recites off those titles easily, even cheerily. ] But pray tell, what are your tastes? Because I can find you something smoky, rich, and expensive, or I can find you something acrid, cheap, and surpassingly intoxicating. My preferences generally run to the latter, but I'm willing to endure some quality if for some odd reason you like the former.

[doggo]

[Sirius inherently does not trust anyone winky nose tappers besides Albus Dumbledore. But. Sirius also likes whiskey.]

As a fellow embarrassment to an ancient line, I'd have to agree on your taste. It feels sufficiently insulting to poison good blood with something that tastes of nail varnish.

[vorrutyer]

[ That draws a laugh out of Byerly that's quite genuine - not like the laughing-through-your teeth chuckles he's let loose to this point, but a real laugh, something startled out of him. He lowers his head in acknowledgment, then says: ]

I should warn that the barkeep I'll be taking you to is in a brothel. No objections, I hope.

[ He tilts his head to the side to indicate the direction and starts leading the way. ]

But do tell. What did you do to bring shame to your weeping ancestors?

[doggo]

[Largely neutral on the choice of venue, Sirius smiles, thinly.]

I can't say I much care.

[--which is something like no objections, anyways. Brothels are outdated even in a society where everything is a little outdated by muggle standards. Sirius had never suffered for dates enough to seek out whatever similar establishments took their place.

He falls into step, agreeable to the point of getting his whiskey.]

Generally I think the shame was the sheer fact of my existence, and my nerve in continuing to exist.

[vorrutyer]

Really? Why's that? You're a well-enough looking fellow, or you would be if you filled out a bit. Seem quick-witted, if a bit credulous and eager to believe anonymous gossip. [ For just a moment, he half-raises his bundled coat and gives it a little shake, and gives a small thin smile - but that's the only critique he'll make over Black's response to his name-tag, because belaboring the point further would be...unsubtle. ]

No visible diseases or defects...Are you a bastard, perhaps?

[doggo]

[Anonymous gossip. Sirius bears that one without batting an eye. His smile is cool; it stays cool. He doesn't reference the coat shake or the point, but he's thinking something very much like yeah all right.]

Pureblood. Completely. That's the trouble. The company I keep is less than approved. My family name is steeped in the great and noble tradition of preservation in the way of keeping others out. We're wizards, you see. Pureblood means we only marry our kind. And unless you're secretly a wizard-- [unlikely goes unsaid] --my mother would spit on me for even telling you any of this. Lucky for you, I went and made friends with nearly uniformly the opposite of my kind--filth, muggle-lovers--blood-traitors, which is me as well.

[It occurs to him then--not for the first time, certainly not for the last--that his parents must have felt a strange sort of pride when they heard he'd been thrown into Azkaban. And--not for the first time, certainly not for the last--Sirius is conscious of how unwelcome this thought is.

He looks ahead toward whatever bit of street they're coming up on. The grim weight of his anger settles in the back of his head, digs its claws in.]

I can't say I miss the family Christmas parties very much.

[vorrutyer]

[ Byerly watches Sirius with a keen sort of focus throughout that story, his eyes bright and unblinking. An ironic half-smile stays on his lips, but it's just habitual; there's very little about that story that makes one want to smile. Ejected from the family for nothing more than, what, egalitarianism? Compassion? By shouldn't be shocked, he supposes. One of his less-vile friends, Orlando Vorkovacs, had been effectively kicked out of his family when he'd fallen in love with a prole girl. But...effectively, not legally, and he'd demanded the right to marry the girl, besides. Then there was Kareen Koudelka, who - in a paroxysm of bizarre taste - had nearly been disowned by her family over Mark Vorkosigan, but that had turned out just fine. No, to be well and truly struck out for nothing more than keeping the wrong company...It's barbaric, really. Something straight out of the Time of Isolation. Not impossible, but supremely unreasonable.

And why'd you leave your family, By? In a snit over your reputation. No...No. No, his had been...more than that. ]

No? I'm shocked. What's not to adore about vinegary wine, dry overcooked roast, and nasty old men spewing bile all over the table in front of you? Figuratively, I mean. Hopefully figuratively. Suppose it depends on just how awful the roast is that year.

[ He flips up his free hand in a shrug. They're moving into the red-light district now, enough that the clothes are getting scantier and the people are getting prettier. Or at least more made-up. ]

So then your friends become your family. I see. Good people, your friends? Worth the loss of fortune and distinguished relations?

[doggo]

Men and women. [Mild correction.] Bile-spewing doesn't skip out based on sex.

[These are jokes that Sirius is used to making. Something like a therapy exercise. Doesn't do much the quell the slow pinpricks of anger, but makes all of that easier to manage. Makes it easier to keep walking, too, easier to look through people, despite the sudden increase in bare flesh around them.

But the bit that truly helps is the bit about his friends. Remus, of course. Peter swims to the surface; anger digs in deep, a violent jab. James. Who is here. Who is alive, and as ever, it's James that pulls Sirius out of the thick mire of anger. James.

And, because this is something he can't be quite flippant about, he answers that query with sincerity:]

My friends are brilliant.

[And, having said that, he can move back to flippant.]

'Cos as it happens, blood-traitors and muggle-lovers and filth are all better company, and generally-- [Peter, again; Sirius steps into a puddle with a bit of extra force. Grey water splashes at his boot. He smiles, grimly.] --on the side of good. Lucky for me, eh?

[vorrutyer]

Oh, quite lucky.

[ The bar is just around the corner, part of an upscale brothel. It's where Dutch works; she'd shown it to him. He wonders if she's here now. He'd like it if she were here. He could use a bit of company later that's...prettier than Sirius? No, with those eyes, Sirius is absurdly pretty. More fun? No; it's clear that Sirius could be fun if he put his mind to it. Perhaps less unsafe. Not that By doesn't like sharp people, dangerous people, challenging people, but. Sometimes, there is little joy in being the villain.

He flips up two fingers to the bartender. ]

Two whiskeys, my man.

[ Then he sidles up to the bar, setting his elbow on it as he turns to look at Sirius. ]

Only - I've got to ask - what's that mean, the side of good? Curious turn of phrase.

[doggo]

Is it?

[Sirius steps closer to the bar so he can lean up against it, a man accustomed to bar-leaning. If he was at all strange in his approach, as if he hadn't been to a bar to some time--well, that's because he hasn't. Now that he's here, it all comes back. Like riding a broomstick.]

Seems fairly straightforward to me. Does it help if I say there was a war on?

[The bartender pours out. The noise of the place is sufficiently low-level, not quite enough to set Sirius' teeth on edge, just enough to make it feel like a proper pub. He takes up his glass when the bartender slides it across, and holds it out for an obligatory toast.]

Cheers. To cheap whiskey.

[vorrutyer]

To the anesthetizing properties of ethanol.

[ He lifts his glass and taps it lightly against Sirius' with a muted clink. A sip. In spite of the promised nastiness, this is actually a fairly decent whiskey - nothing impressive, but nothing completely vile, either. Byerly, in spite of everything, does have fine taste, and he's not actually willing to drink swill. It just suits him to seem like the sort of man who would. ]

But yes - a war. That clarifies things immensely. Who were you all fighting, you and your friends?

[doggo]

[Yes, to those as well, says the lift of Sirius' eyebrows. As thoroughly as he may have embraced muggles and muggle culture, he still doesn't fuck with ethanol. (Nor would he use "fuck with" because that's a term that developed well past 1993-1994, but still.)

He drinks anyways. The whiskey tastes better than he expected but then again, he's not had whiskey in some time, so he might not be the best gauge for taste at the moment.]

My friends, and the Order of the Phoenix, which included my friends but sounds a bit more impressive. And we were up against a Dark Lord going by the name of Voldemort. Obsessed with his own superiority. You've not heard of him, have you? We're all a bit concerned that he'll show up.

["Concerned". Sirius takes another sip of whiskey, not visibly concerned.]

[vorrutyer]

A Dark Lord?

[ Byerly wants to keep Sirius talking, and generally speaking, ridicule isn't the best way to do that. But even so, he can't help it - a little laugh bubbles up in his throat. ]

Dear God, how...melodramatic. Did he label himself that, or did you lot? And heavens, Voldemort, what a name. No, I've never heard of him, and I should think I'd remember if I had. Though given that look on your face, I wonder if would be irresponsible to tell you if he does show up - I expect you'd go and crack the fellow's skull right away, wouldn't you?

[doggo]

[The look on Sirius' face is one that has, once again, cooled immensely, even if he's still wearing a smile. It seems that any relationship he will have with Vorrutyer will be one of occasional turbulence.]

It's what you call a dark wizard bent on dominating the wizarding world. Mostly we called him Voldemort, if you want the truth of it. And yeah. If he does show up, I'll be first in line to do a little skull cracking. We'll all be better for it.

[As if anyone could crack Voldemort's skull. Harry had survived him, turned his magic back on him. All right, why not. James Potter's son, stands to reason. Only a baby but already putting the proverbial boot up some pureblood arse.]

But first I'll invite you round so you can laugh in his face while I do it. How's that sound?

[vorrutyer]

Quite terrible, actually. I've never had occasion to have my courage seriously tested, I'll grant you, but I expect that if it were tested by facing down some modern-day Koschei I'd find myself shitting my pants. So to save you suffering the literal stink of my cowardice, you ought to leave me at home.

[ He says that lightly, easily, without the least bit of shame. Then, with a swirl of his whiskey in his glass, he continues on - ]

So which part pissed you off? Me laughing at his name, or me implying that cracking his skull might not be the right thing to do?

[ It is, against all odds, a real question, and not further mockery. He's genuinely curious as to the answer. ]

[doggo]

Mm.

[--says Sirius, into his glass. He's caught halfway between not being surprised, and something bordering on grudging respect for honesty. Koschei is lost on him, but he lets it pass without comment, files it away for later as he does anything he can't work out from context.]

At least I'll know who to ask into battle. [Another quick sip, and then he sets down the glass, lest he be tempted to drain it all in one go.] S'ppose it's just knowing plenty of good and decent people who've been murdered by him that makes me a little testy.

[vorrutyer]

Murdered by him personally, or killed in the course of the war?

[ No apology, even if he does feel a little bit bad. Yes, all right, snickering about someone responsible for the deaths of loved ones is rather offensive and hurtful, especially when that someone was until very recently still out and about and murdering. Agreed. It'd be like laughing about Cetagandans in the immediate aftermath of the Occupation - there really wouldn't be an audience for those jokes. ]

Not that it ultimately does make a great deal of difference - I'm just curious how hands-on this fellow is. Just in case he does end up showing up here.

[doggo]

[Sirius stares fixedly into his glass but does not move to pick it up. His pause lasts just a little beyond the normal pace of conversation.]

Both.

[The list of the dead is a long one. Whole families. Members of the Order. Muggles, killed without understanding why. The means of death, the culpable parties, the motivations: varied, but on a theme. And James is top of that list, for Sirius; James and Lily. 31 October, in their home. His hands are curled into fists, and he looks there instead. This should be easier to manage, but with the possibility of Voldemort's arrival--or Peter's--with James, here, now, alive--it's like a picked-off scab.

It takes conscious effort to get his hands to relax. Sirius manages it.]

If he does end up showing his face, he'll have a very short list of anyone suitable for recruitment. As he's unlikely to lower his standards, I'll expect he'll end up hands on. If that's enough to satisfy your curiosity.

[And if it's not, too bad. At long last, Sirius grabs for his whiskey again and takes a swig--gestures, with the glass, at Vorrutyer as he swallows. Once he's downed it:]

But now we're off-topic. Never told me what it is you've done that's so disgraceful to your loving family.

[vorrutyer]

[ It's not really fair, of course. Sirius has been nothing but forthright with him, in spite of how that name-tag made him look. Oh, he's been cranky, standoffish, yes, no question, but forthright. Openly telling the story of his own conflicts with his family, of his war...So it's not fair that Byerly lies. But lie Byerly does. ]

Well, truthfully, it's because there's not really anything to tell. [ He shrugs, his face rather sheepish. ] It happened when I was blackout drunk, you see. So I don't actually know. [ Then, with a flutter of his hand - ] But it's certainly easy enough to guess. Drinking, drugs, and sex with the most unsavory people were my habits back then, as they are now, so I expect it was that. And, well -

[ He traces a fingertip along the rim of his glass. ]

My home's a very hard place. Wars are terribly common, and people like me - Vor - are supposed to go into the military. Fops and dandies like my handsome self are...not the most popular sorts of people.

[doggo]

[Sirius is middle-to-fair at sussing out details. Where he excels is the way he stares, with a keen interest, that suggests he might have sussed it all out already and is waiting to have his knowledge confirmed. Too sharp to be wise, more canine than thoughtful. He looks at Vorrutyer in just this way now as he listens to his explanation.]

Unpopular because you prefer your vices, or because you wouldn't fight?

[There are times when everyone should fight. Causes worth fighting for. People worth fighting for. Sirius keeps these ideals close, for now, and gestures with his glass to take in the whole of Vorrutyer.]

Or it could have been some charming [charming, that's what the gesture was for] combination of the two, I suppose. What are the wars over?

[vorrutyer]

[ He cocks a finger-gun at Sirius by way of confirmation: the combination of the two. ]

Lines of succession.

[ As he speaks, he watches the man, the corners of his eyes crinkled up in appreciation. That's a good look. That's a look that would make a hardened criminal crack. He hopes this fellow has at least considered going into law enforcement. ]

We're an empire, you see, and one that has had a coup or two in the past hundred years. Plenty of Vor getting worked up about their right to the camp stool. Hard to really find a will to fight in those causes. Then there are periodic attempts by the Cetagandans to get back at us, or to claim a wormhole or two, that all the fellows on ship duty thwart handily...It's ironic that there's honestly more soldiers than war to go around. I suppose that's why we have the civil wars, eh? Finding excuses to work out all that manly aggression.

[doggo]

Dunno. All the war I've known has been fairly uncivil, for all the purity that the other side harps on.

[He takes another mouthful of whiskey as he turns over the rest of that in his mind, fitting Vorrutyer into a world like he's just described. It's perhaps easier than it should be. Sirius knows (knew) a lot of men who dressed well and sat out of fights. His father, for one. And he knew a lot of men who rolled up their fine sleeves and fought as well, and a lot of men who found smaller men to fight for them, and a few less but more important men who cut off their fine sleeves and did the work required. War takes all kinds.

But for Vorrutyer, in sum:]

So you lack for manly aggression.