#renwyck

Sen knew that the poor man had no idea what he was asking. None whatsoever, so he smiled “Buckle in, my friend... do I have a story for you.” 

He sits down and grabs a bottle of ale, opening it up “So I was once seeing this married woman,” he looks up from the bottle “Don’t judge me if it hadn’t been me it would have been someone else. So let me tell you the story of Nam-Seon, I’m just gonna call her Nam throughout the story.” he pointed at Renwyck “Also, so what? She was Pandaren, I’m not choosy and I like how they’re all big and shapely and fluffy, you can’t get tits like that just anywhere.” 

He cleared his throat “Moving on, Nam and I are going at it strong, pandaren husband is out with baby pandaren children probably, I don’t know, brewing something or learning life lessons. So we undress in the living room, just a frenzy of clothes, shirts thrown, boots tossed, pants on the floor, scattered everywhere. We make our way to the bedroom, where Nam, bless her sexy sexy furry heart, proceeds to ride my face.” he takes a drink of his ale “You can’t say this is too much information, because you literally asked for it. Sit down and shush and accept your punishment.” 

He sniffs a little “So she’s riding my face and it’s amazing, so good, but things start to be a bit off, y’know? There’s kind of a pressure going on that I’m not paying attention to, and suddenly Nam screams. Just blood murder, freaking out. I look down, blood EVERYWHERE, it’s awful, it’s more awful when I realize that pressure is my nose where she’s literally ridden my face so hard that I got a nosebleed and didn’t realize it.” he shrugged “That’s not the embarrassing part. No, it gets better. So the scream was loud enough and apparently, the husband was close enough that he could hear it. We hear the door open to the front of the house and she jumps off, running to the living room to cut off her husband, bare ass naked..” he snickered “Or bear ass naked? Whatever.” he waved it off. 

“I hear she’s been ill ever since the headlines in Stormsong. That she never made a recovery after being in their dungeons.”

“Ill? What makes you say that?”

“She used to go out a lot more. Be out in the open and on trade routes. Now she sends her husband when she has to, but I heard he’s even staying at home more and more now.”

“You don’t think she’s near the end of her line?”

 She didn't sleep that night though she often skipped sleep. This night, however, was different; she had things to do. Whether he wanted her to remember or not she did and she stayed up to work. Even in the years that she had thought him dead every September 30th somehow she found a way to remember him on his birthday with some little ritual.

 Only this year she knew that Renwyck was alive. And so she decorated her borrowed house for a birthday. She might have even thrown him a party except for the fact that she simply didn't know anyone and she certainly didn't know anyone that he knew. Or whether he'd even want that many people around just yet. 

 But she could make the place nice and stack presents on the parts of the table she hadn't scattered with chocolates and autumn flowers. The cake though, that was the best part; three layers of three different kinds of chocolate, dark to white and frosting layered the same. Fat blackberries dropped on top with little red sunflowers and, when it was time, there would be ice cream and well, the rest all depended on just when he got back.

 She'd fix him breakfast or supper depending on when he showed up (she'd told him to come over when he got back), there would be music and his presents and then maybe she'd take him on an adventure or, if he wasn't up to it, she'd just make up a dozen ridiculous games that made him forget everything else.

 And so, uncertain, she planned for absolutely everything and was still humming happily to herself several hours after the sun had come up.

Surprising likely no one, I have a couple contenders, and all of them were written by Terry Pratchett.

The first one that popped into my head was Small Gods, as it was one of the first Discworld books I ever read and I really love stories that revolve around how a mythology works instead of just being stories from religious texts. When I found out Good Omens existed later and read it, I kind of chuckled and wasn’t at all surprised Terry and Neil collaborated so well. I tend to follow the same sort of ruleset for gods–and demons–as they did/do, when I write about them. After all, if belief doesn’t mean anything to a being, why care about worshippers? Metaphysics are fun to talk about, and dissecting a fantasy world’s rules is something I do for fun. I am not a rules lawyer, I just like tinkering.

Another contender for top spot should surprise even fewer people, because it’s Night Watch and good god in a bottle is it one of Pterry’s best. Hands down. I just love everything about that book, I’ve read it numerous times, it is fantastic and just doesn’t fuck around. It is a book that has several points to make and they are all very sharp and very precise and aimed straight at your very vulnerable heart and mind.

It had been a long while since Natharai bothered going to the Brewfest Grounds, content to partaking of the festivities that have been cropping up around Stormwind in little gatherings and tasting events for those who couldn’t (or wouldn’t) take the Tram to Dun Morogh.

While the alchemist had always loved snow, something about it now made it seem practically unbearable even with his layers of clothing (which also was an entirely different problem). He was dreadfully itchy and his strange arboreal body felt stiff and uncomfortable.

In public, Natharai didn’t seem all too different (aside from being swaddled by cloth a little more heavily than the average Brew-goer) -- yet the tendrils of his odd grass-like hair were not apparently evergreen. Strands of autumn gold and orange peppered his locks in sporadic patterns and even manifested upon his beard to an extent. 

Just another one of many strange new developments about my person, I suppose...

Though these not-so-subtle changes were likely not extremely apparent to an inebriated Watcher, Renwyck’s lips easily finding purchase on his own as the alchemist let out a very surprised and indignant muffled squeal. If the man could tell beyond the ale dancing upon his tongue, the exchange would likely come off like he just kissed a salad -- taste and all.

Everyone’s favorite Westfall boy hasn’t had any art in awhile, so let’s fix that. 

Happy belated birthday to the mun of @renwyck , which happened back in late September, and I am late late LATE at getting to this!! You opened up the world for me, and showed me a level of kindness and generosity that is SO rare to see these days. I adored all of our innocent RPs where my little Snow had a chance to crush on this guy from afar (I firmly ship SafWyck, but it was a lot of fun regardless), and all of our other cute prompts we shipped back and forth. I miss seeing you write with other muses -- you’re very good at it, and just...a wonderful spark of benevolence and creativity to the community. I know you’re focusing on your new addition to the household right now, but I hope you find time to come say hello again someday!

Muse & Blog;

You’re another one that is consistent in how you portray your muse. Renwyck is definitely Renwyck. I never feel like I’m writing with a completely different character, and that includes his good AND bad times. They’re written so flawlessly together that they are undoubtedly parts of the SAME character. I love how realistic he feels, even though I know at times it can make it difficult in certain situations, for writer and for muse.

I really love his sense of humor.

Writer;

You are beyond sweet, beyond amazing. You’ve a good head on your shoulders, and it shows not just in how you interact OOC, but in your characters. You strive to make others smile, and I think you succeed. At least in my case. You are easy to talk to, easy to communicate OOC with, for all things RP and OOC/RL.

There is a certain and special kind of pride when it comes to when you speak of your family as well, and that, to me, speaks volumes of what sort of person you are. The kind of person that the world needs more of.