Wednesday, July 18, 2012

Master Tailoring

There is always more to learn, it seems. No sooner do I finish one long and boring task then another pops right up in its place. Deed this, deed that, skin this, skin that, not just once, but 10,00000000000 times.

I had no idea that I could actually make little seal things for my fancy schmancy weapon, and it appears I need to in order to be allowed to ride a nice warhorse. Apparently these nice horses are coming soon, but only people with fancy decorated weapons are allowed to ride them, and so I have to work on some weapon decorations. These decorations are called seals, and they don't do anything at all except look good.

But looking good is very important, especially for a Minstrel of my reputation and standing. I must look my best, not just for Madame Celestine and her girls (they also have a reputation to maintain), but also for my many many fans who have come to expect a certain level of class, elegance and sophistication. From me, that is, not from anybody else in BBB, lest there be any confusion on this matter. So I now must spend my days and nights turning hides into leather, and leather into shoes. And not even I need that many shoes. If I could turn the leather into useful Bat Fur items then they would at least be useful. For me and Madame's girls. But shoes?

The worst of it is, you all know the process by which hides are turned into leather. You all know that this requires the liberal use of certain bodily fluids. Given the amount I drink, producing these fluids is not a problem, but oh my word, the stench! After a week or so of making leather I'm beginning to smell like Beorbrand.

Well, OK, not quite that bad, but I'm getting close. I certainly smell like a Dunland privy.

As for other boring tasks, turning Aegthil piss into shoes isn't the half of it. I've also been forced to go around being nice to all kinds of people to make them like me. As if they didn't already, mind you, they are all my huge fans, I know this, but apparently I have to get to be related to them. Kindred.

Why on earth, I hear you ask, why on earth do you want to be related to bunch of fur-clad savages who live in the snow? That's a bloody good question.

Well, I don't really, but my Fool did want a horse with a flag up its bum. They run faster.

So would you if you had a flag up your bum.

1 comment:

  1. Pfft. 10,00000000000 is not a number. It's a tragedy. Haven't you got better things to do than play with piss and leather?

    Wait... no, don't answer that.

    Maybe you can sew Ruth up a nice cloak once you bathe. I hear she skinned a dragon.