ph_logs | we stand shoulder to shoulder (veteran's social)

we stand shoulder to shoulder (veteran's social)

Who: John Rambo (

theydrewfirstblood) & The Pumpkin Hollow Veterans' Association
What: Leveling up veteran's poker night with a barbecue
When: post-Blight
Where: Baker Ranch
Warning(s): General warnings for John's canon: violence, police brutality, PTSD, torture, etc., and likely similar for many other veterans here, check for further warnings throughout

(NOTE: Treat this as a gathering, but I personally will be backtagging into this for the duration of September, so don't be a stranger!)

Poker Night is something John looks forward to every month, but he got it into his head that it could be fun to do a little more, so he talked to a few people, did a little extra work...

...then the damn Thatcher's Blight hit and everything went to absolute shit.

Fortunately, the whole thing's blown over now, and once he's sure everything around the farm is as clean as it's gonna get? John goes through his stores and decides he's got enough food and drink for all--and tacks up a notice on the bulletin board just below that for the regular poker night, with a date and time as well as his phone number and address.

VETERAN'S SOCIAL, BAKER RANCH--BBQ & DRINKS, POTLUCK OPTIONAL

The event starts a few hours before dusk. John's set up a ways from the house with some tables, chairs, and blankets for those who want to go full on picnic style. It wouldn't be a veteran's night without poker, so there's a game going at one of the tables while another holds plates of food--regular game coming off the grill, along with a few other pieces of meat he picked up for those who aren't fans of game.

And, because Co is around, there's no visible chicken on the grill. Ever the pragmatist, there's a couple casseroles of simple baked chicken on the table, alongside some sides John's put together or any offerings that come along as part of the optional potluck. There's not a lot of alcohol, but John's got the last bottle or two of his little dandelion wine experiment available, as well as a couple other things. Mostly it's water, tea, coffee--tamer offerings.

Speaking of the animals, John's turned loose the ones he treats as pets: Sam the rooster spends the whole night chasing after and trying to wrangle Co, who makes no bones about harassing newcomers for adulation. Those she knows, if they sit still too long, will end up with a happy chicken nesting in their lap...one that will remain quiet only so long as you offer the bare minimum of scritches and pets. Dare to ignore her, and angry clucking will ensue. John's mare, Helga, can also be seen grazing around the goings-on, shy but not unfriendly. If a hot breath puffs on the back of your neck, she's just curious--if you pet her, she'll swish her tail happily and move on.

There's also a newer member of the family, whose only just getting big enough to let socialize: Bao, a female cottontail rabbit whose still young, but no longer too much of a baby to keep isolated. Though she spends a good portion of the night in John's arms when he's not busy, she does hop around loose, sticking close to John and to Co, who can be found very rarely nesting in a patch of grass with Bao tucked against her feathery side, gently attempting to "preen" Bao despite her lack of feathers.

And while this is, ostensibly, the veteran's social, any of Baker Ranch's varying degrees of resident are invited to the party, so if there's new faces about? Relax, they don't bite--unless you have food, then watch your hands. They're probably teenagers, and they don't discriminate when it comes to their appetites.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I study illusion magic, general spellcraft, and Daedrology. Though really, I suppose I have an appetite for any tidbit of lesser-known fact."

Before he was the faithful champion of Sheogorath, Macaelius was super into Hermaeus Mora worship. Secretly, of course.

"I could point you to appropriate sections for local writings on spellwork and magical illusions. It's not a subject I understand much of, I'm afraid, but. I haven't given it much focus, either."

The ghost of Nyalathotep sends a shiver down Siebren's spine, though. He'd hate for his new friend(???!?) to accidentally get tangled up in cult shit, in the pursuit of the lesser known.

"Perhaps, then, we could exchange notes. I am not especially well-versed in astrophysics, but I don't imagine I'd have anything to lose by learning a little. And you seem, I think, to have some small interest in Daedrology?"

"Well, there's only one Daedra I know of on the island who could be studied. And he defies consistency and avoids being pinned down to one truth. But I would be glad to learn more, about you and your world."

He does not consciously intend this as flirtation.

He raises an eyebrow.

"You mentioned already that there is someone else here from my world. You didn't mention there was also a Daedroth."

"The Daedroth isn't just a person, he's...well, a lot. You're familiar with Sheogorath? Sometimes he's butterflies, though. Or an old man who grins like he has a crypto scam to run."

His eyes widen slightly.

"Sheogorath. Yes. I'm well-familiar with that name. The last time I had any interaction with him, he made burning dogs rain from the sky."

"It probably amused him at the time."

Look, Siebren's pretty much a Sheo fan at this time.

"It was in a town called Border Watch. The inhabitants spent their entire lives thinking that the end of the world was nigh, watching and waiting for the signs of something they called 'the Keshara Prophecy.' Well, Sheogorath decided he wanted to have a little fun with the superstitious folk, and asked that I help him carrying out the signs the prophecy ascribed to the end of the world. It wasn't difficult- a little theft, a little cheese, and a little bit of magic on his part. I'm not really sure why I went along with it. Well, alright, I suppose I do, but I'm not sure why I thought a mad god could give me what I wanted."

"What did he give you, for your help, then?"

Siebren's fascinated to hear a story of yet another aspect of Sheo and his shenanigans.

"Have you ever heard of the artifact called 'The Wabbajack?'"

"I haven't, no. I don't know much about your world's artifacts." Siebren goes from standing in mid-air to sitting in mid-air (in a way that doesn't not resemble Vivec's mid-air float) casually as he listens.

"It's a uniquely peculiar staff. There's no way to control what it does, as far as I'm aware, and it can do just about anything. I've seen it turn trolls into crabs, crabs into Dremora, bandits into sweetrolls, and cultists into cheese. Even had this one unlucky fellow I encountered turn into a shower of coins and scatter on the ground. I've seen it produce bursts of flame, bolts of lightning. I've seen it mend grievous wounds, much to my chagrin. I'm not sure why I use it when it's so reliable, but... magic that transforms one thing into another is very unusual, and absolutely fascinating."

"It sounds like something of his nature. What happens appears almost like whim, something."

There's a vague fondness in his tone of voice.

"You have some experience with Sheogorath yourself, don't you?"

"Some. And even before this world, I was...within his domain. I mentioned the traumatic brain injury before. It left lasting effects."

Siebren shrugs.

"Though I acknowledge, what he is here isn't the whole of what he was in your world. His scope is limited, and I think that also affects his perspective."

"Interesting. There aren't many in a position like yours who would proudly proclaim themselves madmen. I admit, my own perspectives on madness may be... skewed."

Siebren shakes his head.

"I exist within the domain of a mad god. I am not a madman."

"There is little distinction, where I come from."

Oh Macaelius. How wrong you were. There are few who do not fall within Sheogorath's sphere, and you fell into it more than most.

Siebren tilts his head to one side. "Perhaps people viewing it like that is why the mad need a god in your world."

"Perhaps. It's not something I understand especially well. It... wasn't something that was talked about, in the home of my youth. And since leaving that place, I haven't made a habit of keeping the company of others, save for in the service of academic endeavors."

"Are you saying you only want to spend time with me for my books?" There's a bit of tease there, shaky and unsure, like he isn't entirely certain this is permissible.

"It...doesn't need to solely be something people speak about with professionals, or take seriously. I'd say that by creating this event, bringing us together, John's made space for those who bear the scar that can't be seen."

A faint smirk forms on his face.

“I suppose I wouldn’t oppose a little conversation, given the quality of discussion you’ve already offered. Or at the very least, I’m not so socially inept that I would answer that question in the affirmative.”

There’s something about his tone that suggests a dry amusement.

“I suppose there’s something to be implied by the fact that Sheogorath, out of all the Princes, has chosen to manifest here.”

"I wonder if Mortanne brought him here to counter or subvert the local demon associated with misperception and insanity?"

"Yes, about that... what exactly are these 'demons?'"

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