Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Magic to Do

The crowds had been long clear, only a few stragglers still lingering around the clearing that currently housed the several colorful wagons, quickly assembled stage, and the hodgepodge of smaller tents adorned with small colored lanterns to make them stand out against the otherwise dull scenery of the still rebuilding town. Though it had been years since the end of the war, enough so that even some of the patrons of the little show that had been put on didn't remember a life before, where magic wasn't outlawed, and where anyone unfortunate enough to be born with magical blood or bold enough to pursue the now forbidden arts on their own were jailed, or worse. It wasn't as if the performers didn't often find themselves under scruty, even the tricks they performed were too close to real magic for the comfort of many who had witnessed the sheer destruction brought on by the war. This little town, though, was always welcoming to them, usually so kind as to give the little band of performers a free meal in addition to the usual goods brought as payment for the show. Money usually wasn't accepted, it was the supplies that the troupe welcomed much more freely. A supply of dried meat and warm clothes and blankets were a much needed commodity. Soon, the last of the stragglers had left the camp, leaving the performers to clean up and ready themselves for bed and another show the next day. Unknown to the people of the town, though, the magic they had witnessed was more than mere parlor tricks. A forbidden, dying art being shown right under their noses under the guise of smoke and mirrors. One person, though, had seen the truth. It, perhaps, was only due to her own magical heritage, but she had felt the surge of power from these people, people like her, and for once she felt as if maybe she could finally stop running. Kyrie bit her lip, a young girl, in the awkward stages of no longer being a child, but far from being an adult in the eyes of many. Not a true resident of the town, the welcoming streets had been her home for the last few days, passing through on her endless journey from one town to the next, always running, but never quite sure from what. She hesitated around the edge of camp, just inside the light glow of the dying bonfires and small lanterns lighting the festive campsite. The runaway jumped at the sudden sound of a heavily accented voice cutting through the silence. Oi, whassat there? A woman called, the caravan's resident fortune teller, pointing to the shadowy shape of the girl lingering near the edge of camp. Ya lost, lass? C'mon over 'ere. she called.
Thread: Magic to Do

Amidst the brightly colored tallow flames that burn in little jars, empty pans abandoned from their original purpose, flowerpots and other such improvised lanterns, scattered 'bout the fairgrounds to provide the show with now slowly dying illumination, three slender silhouettes work diligently. The trio bear the names of Cygnus, Sirius and Hydrus, each identicle to the others, so close in appearances that they're often enough just called the triplets, a single moniker for all three. Each stands tall and slender as a willow switch, lean muscle running from head to toe to offset their otherwise almost feminine frames, unruly blonde hair falling down well past their shoulders and fully concealing their little secret pointed, keen ears tufted with sparse hazel fur. Elven ears, rarely seen nowadays except pinned to a plaque as some hunter's trophy. In the half-lit gloom they work, collecting up the crates and barrels that served as seating for the plays, collapsing and bundling up the tents of attractions past their last showing, grooming the horses where they stand harnessed to the gaily painted caravans, getting ready, in short, for the troupe's inevitable northward migration before they wear away their welcome here. It's the one seeing to the animals that spots her first, the nervous looking girl creeping into the traveller's midst. In a second his brothers are beside him, watching the newcomer intently, nodding and agreeing amongst themselves. She looks like trouble, that's the main topic between the trio of elves, their sensitive senses picking up on the tell-tale hints of magic even at this distance. Not any kind of mortal noise, can't be seen when not in use and likewise only felt when it chooses to be, magic is nonetheless easily sensed by those born with such aptitudes, an odd mix between taste and smell that's nigh impossible to describe... Although the brothers themselves would call it a bitterly spicy flavor mixed with woodsmoke. The jostling and nudging only increases as the fortune teller calls out to the girl, ending with two of the brothers reaching a decision and shoving the third forward, Cygnus pausing only to shoot an acidic glare at his siblings before sauntering up to the budding conversation. Hail and greetings, madam. Welcome to Ser Vale's Circus of the Performing Arts, haven of actors, showmen, freaks and other such unwantables! Which does lead to the question of what a positively lovely lady like yourself is doing here? He calls out when he's just about reached the two, a strange figure in the multicolored twilight of guttering candles, outline strangely elongated by the gloom as he strides forward.
Thread: Magic to Do

As one of the men was pushed towards her, the girl staggered back a few steps instinctively, then lingered at the edge of the camp as he approached her. For a moment, she ha the distinct resemblance to a cornered rabbit about to bolt back into the woods, but she held her ground timidly. Their resident seer approached, as well, bringing a lantern with her to help with the faint illumination on the edge of the ground. Faustine held the light up as she approached, pausing as the other girl staggered backwards again. Aye, we ain't gonna hurt ya, lass. She said gently, holding up the light to examine the young waif in front of them. she was shaking, her clothes ragged and patched, her face and tattered clothes equally dirty. She had a small pack slung over her shoulder, dark hair tied in a braid hung down her back. She glanced nervously between the two performers, extremely tense despite the assurance that she wouldn't be harmed. In fact, that's why she was there, right? Runaway, hm? Faustine asked the girl gently. Or were ya kicked out? she smiled to her. Don' need ta answer right now if'n ya don' wanna. C'mon. You're with friends 'ere, lass.
Thread: Magic to Do

Now hold for one moment Faustie, we don't know anything 'bout her. Cygnus protests as the fortune-teller extends the runaway her invitation, before directly addressing the girl. So, girlie, anything you might want to tell us? Fer instance, just why you're running away? Something 'bout witch-hunters, mayhaps? His tone isn't unfriendly persay, but certainly distrustful, Cygnus erring far upon the side of caution when it comes to risking discovery, risking mobs and torches and pitchforks in the dead of night. Despite bearing the stature, demeanor, even personality of a young man, him and his brothers have been among the performers longer than almost any, long enough to see the incautious or headstrong be hauled away for 'questioning', hunted down like dogs, executed upon the spot and their corpses spit upon... Enough to instill a little well-cautioned cowardice in any soul. Cause as much as we might be your friends, well, friends don't keep secrets from each-other, not if they're the sorta secrets that might get a fellow neckdeep in trouble... Or without a neck, fer that matter.i
Thread: Magic to Do

She looked between them, taking a cautious step backwards. She was jittery, to say the least, flinching a bit when Cygnus spoke to her. Oh, don' be so 'arsh on 'er, Cygnus. Yer frightenin' the poor girl. she said, chiding him gently. I...no, it's fine.' The girl said quietly, finally speaking. I...I understand how it is, not being found out, or trying to at least. She said. My family...we...they...well, we, I guess...' she stammered over her words. We...practiced the forbidden arts magic. she said, lowering her voice to a whisper. Someone turned us in...I was the only one who wasn't arrested. she said. My father fought, so they likely executed him my mother and sister were taken, as well. she said. I don't know what happened to them. Her tone was oddly level heavy, but with the tone of someone who had long come to terms with what she had described. I have no family, nowhere to go. she said. I have no money, no food I'm tired of running, sleeping in the streets, begging for scraps to eat... she said quietly.
Thread: Magic to Do

Well, that's... Not really the kind of plea for help you can turn down, is it? Especially coming from a pretty girl. Or at least one that could be pretty, given a bath, better clothes and a few good meals. Cygnus sighs, scratching at the thin patch of unshaven bristles about his chin and thinking of what to do. Well, in any case, I shan't be turning you away. Not my choice to make. He says eventually, giving Faustine a defeated glance. But I may as well help how I can. Come along, at the very least you won't leave starving.
Thread: Magic to Do

Well, that's... Not really the kind of plea for help you can turn down, is it? Especially coming from a pretty girl. Or at least one that could be pretty, given a bath, better clothes and a few good meals. Cygnus sighs, scratching at the thin patch of unshaven bristles about his chin and thinking of what to do. Well, in any case, I shan't be turning you away. Not my choice to make. He says eventually, giving Faustine a rather resentful glance. But I may as well help how I can. Come along, at the very least you won't leave starving. And frankly, he almost hopes she does leave. As much sympathy as Cygnus feels for the runaway, she also admitted that the witchhunters already know about her. Which means that taking her with them could be oh so very, very dangerous. All it would take would be a single hunter with a good memory for faces and they'd have to run again, find new names and livelihoods again, or worse yet, they'd never get a chance to run at all. Sighing, Cygnus turns and leads the way towards one of the larger caravans, a plain wagon of worn and rain-eaten timber, from where the rich aroma of cooking stew seeps outward on the breeze to tease the rest of the camp with the mouth-watering scent.
Thread: Magic to Do

We'll make it a vote, liken we always do with these sorts of situations. Faustine said sternly, giving a nod that signaled that she wouldn't be discussing the matter further. It was rare that they had unexpected additions to their little caravan, and even rarer that they turned someone away. What's yer name, child? Faustine asked. Kyrie. she replied quietly. Well, then, Kyrie, we'll getcha somethin' ta eat right off. At the very least we can give ya a safe place ta sleep t'night. A gutter is no place for a youngin' like yerself.' She said. Kyrie thanked the woman, who escorted her over to where a meal was being prepared. Once she was settled and downing her meal ravenously, Faustine nodded to Cygnus, and pulled him to the side. Ya can't possibly be thinkin' about turnin' the poor girl away, are ya? she asked quietly. She obviously 'asn't been able ta take care of 'erself, and a pretty little thing like 'er will likely be sent off to a whorehouse if she's picked up.
Thread: Magic to Do

Well... Cygnus pauses uncomfortably once they're outside, staring up at the ever so slightly orange tinted leaves that deck the trees overhead in a concerted effort not to meet Faustine's gaze. Gods, what a self-serving fool he must sound like. Even he can see it, every retort or answer to Faustine's accusation that he can think of sounding hollow, pathetically selfish. Well... Not really, no. Jus' worried she might bring trouble our way, that's all. He says eventually, scratching uncomfortably at his hair, a thick mane colored the rich gold of newly threshed wheat. It's a flimsy excuse for a lie and Cygnus doubts the fortune-teller will believe him for even a minute, but it's still preferable to simply admitting that yes, he had a moment ago intended to vote against allowing Kyrie to stay with them. Too much of a coward to admit his own cowardice. ---- The mess hall's interior is a stifflingly small and overstuffed place, near every inch of available space within the outwardly spacious caravan occupied by cabinets and cupboards and spiceracks, each of these similarly packed to bursting with salted or smoked meats, dried vegetables, roots, mushrooms, everything easily scavenged and easily preservable, strings of herbs stretching from wall to wall and filling the wagon with a mouthwatering scent even stronger than that emanating from the merrily steaming cauldron occupying far wall. Watching over this boiling, bubbling kettle of stew is what appears to a be a normal enough man, albeit definitely a foreigner, deeply tanned skin and eerily reflective golden eyes marking him as a stranger from the vast deserts left in the war's wake. Unusual, but not an unknown sight even out here. He turns as she steps inside, looking her over once before shrugging and turning back to his cauldron. A newcomer in here means a newcomer to the troupe, but that's just business as usual. If you're here for food you're in luck, it's leek, potato an salted ham tonight, better'n the usual stale biscuits an weak tea. He comments off-handedly as he ladles out a helping of the molten brew and makes his way through the narrow trail cleared amidst the clutter to place the steaming bowl onto the table. Eat up, y'look like y'could use a good meal.
Thread: Magic to Do

If we turned away ev'ryone that might bring us a bit of trouble, we'd 'ave a very small little group 'ere. she said. Ya know better than ta stretch the truth with me, Cygnus. I get what yer sayin', but I don' think I could turn 'er away and keep a clean conscious. She sighed, and shook her head. It really was a delicate situation. It always was, dealing with newcomers. There was always a chance that they were dealing with a spy or snitch, or a wanted criminal who would land them all in jail regardless of their magical capabilities. It was a reality they had to deal with, that most of the world would rather see them dead if they knew the truth about them. I jus' want ya to think it over. If ya really think she's a threat to us, we'll send 'er off. But I don' think she is. I know it's been a while for ya, Cygnus, but ya know what it was like, wandering without anywhere to go. You at least 'ad yer brothers with ya. Jus' remember that. This girl 'as no one. She might have been guilting him slightly, but she had seen far too many bodies in the ditch to potentially add one more to the count. --- Kyrie looked up with a start as she was approached. She had been so on edge in the time she had been wandering, she still saw everyone as a potential threat, someone who would turn her in for a reward. It made her paranoid, and distrustful of people. Oh, yes. Please. she said, almost too quickly. The smell of the food already had her drooling, and she licked her lips expectantly as the stew was set in front of her. Despite normally having some restraint and manners, she hardly even waited for the stew to be cooled off, and was shoveling it into her mouth. She hadn't had a warm meal in weeks. Even since then, she had been surviving on stale scraps and half-rotten fruit, often ending up ill the next day because of it. It showed. She was pale and gaunt, and her hands shook as she picked up the bowl to finish the last few mouthfuls that were left clinging to the sides. It was then that she realized that there were a few people staring at her apparent lack of manners. Her appearance wasn't much to speak of, either, her clothes torn and her face smudged and dirty. She looked more like a beggar than anything.
Thread: Magic to Do

Yes, yes.. Gods, why did he even try. He knew no-one would listen from the moment he opened his mouth, knew all his warnings would go ignored just as ever and that he'd end up being shamed into going along with it anyway... It was pointless to try and argue. The troupe had yet to turn away a newcomer who wasn't obviously lying and the idea that they might do so merely on his advice was laughable. I suppose I may as well go and clear out Thadeus's old caravan for her, see if I can't shoo out the dancing mice. Sighing, Cygnus heads off towards the now-deceased animal trainer's wagon, shoulders hunched and posture slouched over defeatedly. Nothing he could do now but wait and hope for the best. The matter was well out of his hands. ---- The cook watches Kyrie gulp down the still-hot gruel with more than a trace of pity, taking up the bowl once she's done and refilling it for her. Serving second helpings was normally not allowed, but surely no-one would object to giving the poor girl a little extra? Better than watching her keel over from starvation. You have a name? He asks, filling a second bowl for himself and sitting down opposite her.
Thread: Magic to Do

Faustine shook her head, and made her way back towards where dinner was served. She and Cygnus often clashed over matters like this. Though she often disagreed with him, she had to admit that it was a benefit to have such a cautious person around. Perhaps she was just too gullible or foolish, but she would be damned if she sent someone off back to the street without good reason. --- Kyrie took the second bowl eagerly. Normally, one would have been enough to sate a girl her size, but she could hardly remember the last time she had eaten. She didn't eat nearly as ravenously as before, but her hunger was still apparent. My name's Kyrie. she said quietly. How about you? She tilted her head a bit as she spoke, still spooning the hot stew into her mouth between sentences. Before the cook had a chance to respond, Faustine was behind Kyrie, and laid a soft hand on her shoulder. Good news, yer stayin' with us. she said gently. As she left to fetch herself something to eat, the younger girl breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Thank the gods. she whispered.
Thread: Magic to Do

Me? 'm Trent Crowley, I do the cooking 'round here. The chef says, prodding at his own stew with a wooden spoon while he waits for the liquified meat and vegetable murk to cool. Ain't much to work with on th' road but I do my best. You like the stew? Trent is a short man, only a little taller than Kyrie herself, with wavy black hair halfway to his shoulders and a swathe of thin stubble upon his chin, setting the brilliant white of his smile in fine contrast. You'll prob'ly be workin' with me for a little whiles, actually, least 'till we finds you something better ta do. I can always use help foragin' for supplies an such so it's a good way ta keep newcomers occupied 'till they find their bearings here. Don't suppose you know how to cook, do you? The stew is hearty and filling, if a little bland, with few spices to accent the taste of the salt-drenched broiled pig-flesh. Better than what one might expect of road rations. A cup of honeyed mead is soon pushed along the table towards Kyrie as well, alcohol to wash down the gruel and warm the bones for the coming winter night's cold.
Thread: Magic to Do

She smiled a bit. It had been so long since she had been full. The meal had been delicious, at least to her. Sure, others might have found it perhaps boring, but it was better than the scraps she had managed to beg off of people or pull from the trash. Even bland stew was a better meal than stale bread and half rotten fruit. With a filled stomach, she gulped down the mead just as eagerly as she had the stew. She was no stranger to alcohol, despite her apparent youth and slight build, felt only the slight warmth that spread through her as the beverage settled in her stomach, leaving just a slight tingling sensation in the tips of her fingers. I can cook a little.' she said. I know how to start a fire, at least, and I'm pretty good at finding things to eat. I've been on my own for a while, and I've kind of learned what's good for eating and what isn't. Now's not the greatest time for it, with the winter approaching. There's not a lot of plants growing, except maybe a few berries, but most of them will make you sick. The combination of warm meal, slight buzz from the alcohol, and welcoming air had her opening up to Trent. She couldn't remember the last time she had sat down for a conversation with someone.
Thread: A feral wounding (Shards & Askeladd)

The sun was high in the sky this day breathing down on earth's neck with it's hot breath, the heat rose in waves and caused a slight shimmering throughout the area. One would believe the whole place was a sea of shimmering waves it could even be called beautiful if one were to be so sentimental about things like this, the grass as always covered everything it was endless they said. The figure wondered if it were truly endless could anything truly be endless he asked himself he didn't think so but who knew, the world was full of surprises maybe that's what made it exciting. A gentle breeze blew by causing the grass to shift across he could hear it as it moved making it's odd noise it was almost silent but not quite. Though these two hunters hardly cared for the beauty of the forest they simply wanted to kill things, the taller one was near six foot three but very skinny. The smaller one was a little heavier set with jowls hanging from his neck practically, both carried hunting rifles and had a bet on who would shoot the first catch of the day. So they set out slowly with their bright orange vests to signal who was human and who was not, they moved slow and steady as they searched for the first kill of the day.
Thread: A feral wounding (Shards & Askeladd)

Strada gave a growl as she walked the forest floor, sniffing the air she could smell humans in her forest as it made her angry to know they were getting so close to her den. Still as she travel through the forest on all fours her tail swaying back and forth as she knew she could walk on her back legs she never cared for doing it. Still as she kept moving she felt something was off as she found she couldn't smell the humans anymore. they masked their scent from there on I'm thinking She moved about her nose to the ground as she tried to find their scents again it was strange to her that they would just drop off. She didn't see any markings that something picked them off yet she also couldn't find tracks. She gave a growl growing frustrated with the lack of a way to find them.
Thread: A feral wounding (Shards & Askeladd)

The two men had indeed used several bottles of overpriced musk and scents to hide them from the animals, though their clumsy actions seemed to send most of the little animals around them scurrying for cover. They were getting annoyed by the lack of targets when they heard a sound, the two of them froze in their tracks and began to look through the scopes upon their rifles trying to figure out exactly where the sound came from and if they could shoot it. They turned around as the sound of a stick snapped and then the heavier set male fire blindly into the bushes while yelling I got something!, he wasn't even sure he actually had but if he had then it would be considered an amazing shot seeing as he fired blindly. The taller man looked around but saw nothing from were his companion shot, it seemed like there was nothing there after all but there had definitely been a noise back there somewhere he thought to himself as he scanned the area again. The forest was dead silent now as the birds and other small animals had fled to wherever they could to escape the loud sound of death coming from the humans. Figured I would allow you to choose where she is hit and how she runs off to be found lol.