Stefan Richter (aka Lord Recluse) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
tartaros_avatar) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
ph_logs2025-10-10 07:14 pm
tartaros_avatar) wrote in ph_logs2025-10-10 07:14 pm
Many Happy Returns (OTA)
Who: Stefan Richter (
tartaros_avatar) & whoever!What: It's his birthday, come say hi to him and his fish!
When: October 10th!
Where: Around town, and Northeast Hollow
Warning(s): Alcohol
1. Steel (in town)
Back on Earth, Stefan had his ill-gotten gains from a mercenary and thief's life, and he'd spend some of that on himself every so often. Now he's on a tighter budget, but he's still got enough to at least make himself something. Something that will help put himself back to rights, so he'll be ready for whatever the next year throws at him.That's what brought Stefan to the forge early in the morning, to put the finishing touches on a knife. Ever since the Great War, he'd always carried one with him, and kept it razor-sharp. He bought one once he got to Pumpkin Hollow, but it never sat quite right in his hand, and his newly enhanced strength had worn on it. He needed something better, and taking up the artisan trade taught him what he needed to make one himself.
The final polishing's done, taking a half-gram of weight off the handle to make the balance perfect. He tests it by tossing it into the air a few times, the steel flashing in the early morning light. Despite the risk, he barely seems to be paying attention, lost in thought.
"Oh. Didn't notice you there." Stefan turned toward whoever had entered the blacksmith's shop. "Just thinking about the future--but the future can wait until tomorrow. What d'you need? As long as it's quick. I'm clocking off early for my birthday."
2. Stealing (Northwest Hollow)
His morning in the forge done, there were still more hours to go before Stefan's organized get-together at the Oak and Iron, and he was too restless to wait around town. He wandered out toward the farmland, and what plant life had survived the insanity back in August. Things were worse for wear, but much as he hated to admit it--the local magical practitioners seemed to have salvaged things well enough."Karp!"
Lokhós raced through the air on ungainly fins, piloting its bubble of water toward an orchard tree in full autumn foliage, chasing a falling leaf.
"You already know those aren't food," Stefan calls after the fish. Most of the time, it couldn't seem to 'swim' much higher than his head, but every so often it got itself into strange, vertiginous predicaments. He had to be the only man out there to ever find his fish had climbed onto the roof. "And--okay, that one is food," the fish had gotten distracted by an apple swaying on a branch, "but just take one. Otherwise you're gonna get me in trouble."
Despite Lokhós's twenty-five pounds of weight, it took a significant amount of struggle to get the apple off the branch, eventually resorting to grabbing on with its mouth and simply hanging from the apple, until the dead weight pulled the fruit free with another shower of leaves. "I've got to teach you how to be more discreet," Stefan muttered.
3. Samhain (Northwest Hollow)
Stefan stopped beside a pumpkin patch, thinking. "Hey," he asked anyone nearby. "Does this place have Halloween?" It'd been years since he'd had the real thing. In England there was only All Souls Day stuff, which had been too damned pious for Stefan's taste. He'd been to Ireland, but never at the right time of the year. "If nobody's introduced it already, they've got to. The town's called Pumpkin Hollow and everything. And my pet fish already has a costume figured out."
4. Socializing (Oak and Iron)
From his first day on Marrow Isle, Stefan had made a point to spend time at the Oak and Iron. Meeting people, paying for their drinks, and make connections. It was a common information-gathering tactic his gang had often used, and it paid dividends. Tonight, there was a happy bonus - his local friends had insisted on a birthday party, they insisted they'd handle the organizing, and they vociferously insisted he wasn't paying for any of his drinks that night."Good to see you," Stefan raised a glass to whoever approached, whether he knew them or not. "Do you want a drink? I'll buy y--" Before he could finish, he was shouted down by the others, laughing at their mock outrage. "Fine, fine. Somebody will buy you one."
5. Serious Business (/s) (Oak and Iron)
As the party careened onward through the night, a disorderly series of activities sprung up. A sturdy table was cleared for arm-wrestling. Then the whole group wandered out to a nearby alley for a few friendly bouts of sparring, before it was generally agreed to reconvene back in the tavern for more rounds. A random selection of drinking games followed, including Never Have I Ever, with Stefan's adventurous life putting him at a disadvantage, and Two Truths and a Lie, where his wild history makes for excellent camouflage.[ooc: specify which option you'd like, or we can wander between them! If you have another idea in mind, go for it!]
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"Count of three."
She bows forward over the table and captures the stranger's hand in her fist. Her expression is effervescent; green fire behind her eyes and an intrigue to see what Birthday Boy will bring to the table. Literally. A guest she doesn't recognize— doesn't recognize anyone, really, with her wandering in uninvited— approaches them and volunteers to referee. They cup the pair of fists under their palm. Carolina drags her tongue across her teeth, muscle pulled taught through her arm, eyeing him.
"My name's Carolina, by the way. So you know what to shout when I beat you."
Their referee counts off.
One.
Two.
Three—
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The sturdy table creaks as they brace, almost inaudible below the cheering of the crowd. It was made for humans, and they've both pushed beyond human limits, both seeking an advantage over the other.
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Thanks, she might have said if the weight of five ordinarily strong men— combined into the power of one abnormally strong man— weren't currently bearing down on her elbow. I won't need it. Except— she might. She might critically need it, if Stefan intends on keeping up the way he is now. But Carolina isn't a quitter or sniveling wimp, and refuses even a fraction of struggle to show in her face. In her mind, though—
How much fucking protein powder does this guy eat—
She fixes her jaw imperceptibly. Her shoulder strains on the downslide. Fighting— fighting— giving it her all— fist pitched forward then back again, like two swords locked blade to blade— until her knuckles wrap against the table.
The crowd riots drunkenly and indiscriminately.
"Phew. That birthday cake must be laced with steroids." Carolina shakes her shoulder loose. "Two out of three?"
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"Two out of three," Stefan agrees. "And I've got no idea what steroids are, but I guess they're working for me. Do they put those in the water where you're from, or what?" Because she had far more strength than pure muscle could account for. That was exhilarating - Stefan already knew of a few other people here who could push past human limits in different ways, he'd even gotten a chance to learn new techniques from Shen Qingqiu to push himself even further. Finding others meant new forms of potential they could strive for.
And in the short term, it gave him an actual challenge on the lowest stakes imaginable. "Your drinks are on the line. You ready?"
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"I wouldn't know. I don't take them." Boastful airs aside, she clarifies a little; "They're performance enhancing drugs. Anabolic. Idiots with no sense of discipline take them to fill out like garbage bags stuffed with pillows. Unfortunately where I come from they're pretty common. They pump soldiers with all sorts of stuff."
Challenge accepted. Palm open, ready for round two. Carolina presses herself up against the table's edge and catches his hand in her own. Their referee comes up behind. Somewhere, the glup-gubbing sound of a fish suspended in air— which she's deliberately choosing to ignore, or risks distracting herself.
"Ready."
The referee removes their hand. This time, Carolina braces hard. She knows what to expect. Knows to pace herself, to whittle away Birthday Boy's strength gradually instead of all at once. Her lips press into a tight, concentrated line. Her wrist, like cold-worked iron. In his grip, her knuckles surface like the white backs of whales. Fuck, this guy's tough. Behind her, the crowd whoops and calls unintelligibly. They fight for the advantage— to push just so. She's never felt so focused in her life.
It means that, when the table starts to creak, Carolina doesn't notice. The squealing, straining, splintering goes completely over her head. She sets her teeth, enamel screaming. Her arm's almost parallel to the table—
And in a one-two punch of noise and motion, she loses. The table splits completely down the middle, rended like earth during an apocalypse. She startles a little, sinks into it then snaps backward in her chair, breathlessly exhilarated. The Oak & Iron erupts into a thrilled raucous.
Carolina shakes splinters out of her hand. "I hope you're thirsty."
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And it's a real battle this time. Carolina had good reason to be confident before, but now the stakes are understood. Both had to meter their strength, to press any advantage when it presented itself in a single tremor or twitch, and to recover quickly from any mistakes.
Carolina was good. She pushed Stefan will past the middle twice, and it looked like she might win the round. But he couldn't focus on that. He had to focus on the techniques Shen Qingqiu had taught him, to make full use of every breath and every fiber of muscle. His focus narrows to that alone. He doesn't notice the creaking of the wood, nor how the tide's turned. He's close to winning, but Carolina's making sure it doesn't feel that way.
Then the table snaps in two, and the battle is definitively over. He pulls back, laughing in surprise as the crowd drowns out the clattering of broken furniture coming to rest.
"Come on," Stefan said, holding out a hand to shake this time. "Breaking furniture's got to give someone a point or two, right? That was a team effort."
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"You don't want to be part of my team," Carolina says, clapping Stefan's hand in her own, working his knuckles in her firm grip. She smiles, a little ominous, and gives nothing more than that. "But I'll take the points where I can get them. So, what'll it be? I was telling the truth, you know. About the drinks."
Sliding out of her seat, she abandons the half-split carcass of the table. Eyes it the way you would an old wad of gum or a pile of shit on the sidewalk.
"Hope they don't expect us to pay for that."