<strong>Name: Tamsin<br/>Location: Greenmist Outpost and Outfitters (back yard)<br/><span class="bbc_u">Tagging: Open</span></strong><br/><br/>Tamsin Steelknuckle had been up before daybreak, getting an early start on hammering, quenching, and grinding sharp bits of metal for the discerning adventurer in need of armaments. Now, as the day was winding down, it was time for a well-earned break. She tested the blade she had whetting against a hanging pig carcass.<br/><br/>Her mentor, bronze-skilled blacksmith Sturgeon Steelknuckle, nodded to her. “It will kill,” he rumbled gleefully. Contrary to most assumptions, he was not a dwarf. Just a squat, stocky human with a sprawling beard and impossibly thick eyebrows. Even after all this time, he still made her feel like she was just an apprentice, but she did’t scorn his critical eye. It kept her sharp, kept her knowing there was always another plateau of skill to climb towards. She set the blade down on the table as Sturgeon collected the pig pieces for dinner.<br/><br/><br/>Tamsin wiped her brown and hung her apron and forging mask on a peg, grabbed a jug full of beer, and made her way out back, where a large barrel full of hot water awaited her. Big enough to hold a few people, the bath was heated from a furnace below. It had been one of her first projects when expanding the original ramshackle smithy into what was now the Outpost.<br/><br/><br/>She stripped off her clothes and dumped them in a pile nearby, the ambient light from the setting sun and flickering lamp hanging above the bath highlighting every drop of sweat that covered her muscular body. She removed the ribbon tying back her hair and then climbed on into the barrel, setting her drinking jug on a small shelve attached to the edge, which also held a collection of soaps and other concoctions of cleanliness she’d acquired from the town’s alchemist. A clay ring set inside the barrel allowed for comfortable seating, and Tamsin set her arms up on the barrel’s edge, stretching her legs out to the other side and exhaled deeply as she soaked. Even though she’d been in a hot forge all day, a warm bath was a different kind of heat. Soothing, not searing. As her tension drained away, she began humming a joyous tune that had stuck in her head from the last bard that had come through.<br/><br/><br/>*****<br/><br/><br/><strong>Name: Anna</strong><br/><strong>Location: The Posh Pixie -&gt; The Barn</strong><br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Tagging: Talia, Open</strong></span><br/><br/><br/>Like Tamsin, Anna had been up since before dawn tinkering with her projects. The alchemist, however, had been up since the night before, and had been chugging energizing elixirs all day to keep herself going. She was about to take a break from her work as well, though in her case it was to make a delivery of some special orders to the Barn. She removed her apron and flung it over a side table. It was covered in all sorts of stains, some of which glowed and a few of which were now host to their own microecosystems. Holes abounded as well. She’d need to invest in some materials for some new ones soon, something she could treat with some mixture to be more durable.<br/><br/><br/>Her alchemically animated manservant, a hulking masked brute named Lund, finished loading the casks in a small hand-pulled cart and came inside to assume duties of watching the shop while Anna was away. The tall, red-haired potion master boldly strode past him and out the door. “Welp! I am off!”<br/><br/><br/>“Forgetting something?” Lund boomed after her. Anna paused for a moment in the doorway, tapping her cheek, adjusting her spectacles,  and looking about before realizing.<br/><br/><br/>“Oh! Right! Clothing!” she exclaimed, scurrying back inside and throwing on some loose robes and sandals.<br/><br/><br/>She dashed back out and started pulling the cart over to the Barn, bringing to a side entrance where she was met by Henrik, who started helping her unload the casks. Each one was filled with a special brew. The innkeeper had decided to start experimenting with expanding the drink menu for when guests needed something special. Some, like the unicorn cream liqueur and sanctified honeyjack, were meant to fine beverages for major merchants and successful adventuring parties who wanted something fancy. Others, such as the cinnamon dragonspit and trollish kombucha, were meant to be ‘tough guy’ drinks for roughnecks wanting more challenge in their drinking contests.<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>*****<br/><strong>Name: Zelda</strong><br/><strong>Location: Out and About</strong><br/><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Tagging: Open</strong></span><br/><br/><br/>Unlike the others, Zelda had been catnapping most of the day. She yawned and stretched, figuring it was time to stop lazing about. She had heard there were a couple merchant caravans coming through, and figured she should be on top of things in case they had anything interested she wanted to purchase - or pilfer. She carefully measured out her daily doses from the three potion bottles in the cabinet next to her bed: one to prevent pregnancy, one to safeguard against disease, and one to make sure her… condition… wasn’t contagious. She grabbed her sketch journal and then exited her cozy cottage. It was on the village edge, close to the potion shop. She began making her way idly to no place in particular. Possibly the sign post by the road entering town? Maybe to the Barn. Wherever the evening breeze took her.<br/><br/><br/>She was naked, as usual. It drew stares from visitors, but most of the locals had gotten used to her habits by now. She found a stray crate to sit on and started people watching.