Ador is on top of the owe list, so we have him and Warner, probably on the run.

We start with Ador, who adds a significance to his particular strength:

A warrior who settled down with a foul tempered werewolf of a wife. Ridden with second thoughts.

Lethal Swordsmanship: Directly. Consequential for myself. Far reaching.

Bo picks the oracle of Blood and Sex, and a single card.

• Husband: Ador
• Woman:

Bad tempered ex werewolf chieftain, now proud businesswoman and mother to the twins Pasha and Fenris.

Unleash the beast: Covertly. Far־reaching. Consequential to Violence.

• Housekeeper
• A hunchback servant:

A broken werewolf that became an ass kissing servant with tragicomic aspirations.

Go unnoticed: Self protection. Potent.

• Giant gopher־rabbit (codename CHAFARNAV) laying waste to the strawberries – temporary owner of a lucky gopher־rabbit's foot
• A visiting relative:

Warner's werewolf cousin, to whom she was once engaged. Bandit. Cultist.

• The local lord: Lordus Abu־Beth

• Local lord:

Worships the bull and his only daughter.

Demagoguery: Maneuvering. Potent.

• The daughter: Beth (got the hots for Ador, among others)
• her chaperon
• The demon possessing her: Ataratheh (taking her shape)
• The crazy ass strawberry grower: Ador

• The warrior priestess:

A skin walker garbed with scraps of skin taken from many victims, able to assume the form of any of them.

The Garb: Covertly. Unique. Consequential to love.

• The cult leader: Ataratheh
• Her jealous brother: Alby
• A victim waiting to be sacrificed, or still at large: Beth
• Just some guy seeking revenge:

A werewolf hunter seeking vengeance.

Durability: Self protection. Potent. Broad for action.

• The insulted: Ador
• The insulter:

Ronin secretary to the Crane.

Favoured by a god: For myself. Far Reaching. Potent.
When he is in great need, the most unlikely (yet completely possible) things will conspire to help him

• The original composer of the (simple!) insult, to be in trouble if found out
• The person who actually did the thing described by the insult, which is probably why it hurt so much
• Someone caught between them, needing to bring them together despite the insult: Warner
• A guest overhearing the insult at a party

The free city of Romrama, on the sea, west of the citadel of the winds, built high upon the hills with a sheer cliff dropping into the ocean. Has a long tradition of winemaking, and a budding strawberry industry.

In a wicked age, amidst the produce laden carts in the colorful market place of Romrama, a baby־faced foreigner approaches a woman surrounded by baskets of strawberries. He introduces himself as Tzao־Lin, part of the Danite invasion that took the neighbouring realm by storm, in search of something deeper. More profound. He is new in town, dazzled by this wonderfully lusty primitive culture almost as much as he is by the strawberry־lady's good looks, eager to experience everything. Warner – being an awesome werewolf, a serious business woman, a mother and a wife – barely notices him; even after he demonstrates his lingual acrobatics on some of her goods (for which he pays in gold out of a large wallet); but when he touches her hand, something in the butterfly quality of his hand touches her heart, or something lower, and she takes him by the hand and starts leading him to her home. Much to the amazement of Ador, her husband, who shares that home with her and is jawdroppedly watching the entire thing from across the street.

In a wicked age, in a quiet farm, Beth, the lord's daughter, is tramping after strawberries. Her short skirt flutters and her feet go hippety־hop. After her, like a shadow, the chaperon. The call of a crane is heard from the distance. The chaperon patiently awaits until Beth swoons, and then she leads her to the hut of Gugel, the hunchback servant. Gugel grovels before them, eager to please, and when the chaperon explains that the lord's daughter is tired (without mentioning the milk of poppies she put in her drink) he takes her to the finest approximation of a bed he can find. “Keep her secret”, the chaperon orders. “Keep her safe”. She hurries outside. Her clothes start reshaping on her skin. She becomes leaner, younger. Her skirt shortens, and flutters. And her feet go hippety־hop on the path to the castle.

In a wicked age, in the marketplace, Ador is grimly surprised to see his wife walking away from their cart, holding hands with a rich foreigner, but just as he is about to launch a protest two city guards walk into his personal space, demanding attention. He attempts to bribe them with strawberries, which it turns out they already consider theirs. They ask to see his licence, which he has just renewed, and then demand a quarter of his stock. Not wishing to kill anyone, he gives them the quarter, accepting the losses as payment for their lives, but they are not satisfied. They start to stomp on strawberries and break the cart and vandalize the shit out of everything they can lay their hands on. Ador understands that they are determined to cause trouble, and were probably sent by Lordus, the local lord, who would like nothing better than Ador in prison). But Ador is pretty determined himself, and he wishes to stay out of trouble, so he repeats, half to himself, “I'm a farmer. I'm a farmer. I'm a farmer”. Warner, however, who hears the racket behind her, turns and comes back to assist her husband, dragging Tzao־Lin behind her. When she gets to the guards, she uses her divine gift (“unleashing the beast”, the werewolves call it), turns her charm on to 11, raises her skirt, and gives the guards – and the awe inspired Tzao־Lin – a peek and a whiff. The guards lose it, their minds melt and they begin to slobber, waiving their swords to and fro; but Tzao־Lin, ever refined, manages to maintain the semblance of a civilized human being, no matter how deeply impressed he is. “What a lovely bouquet”, he gently exclaims, and something within Ador snaps.

In a wicked age, behind thick wooden doors, a young lady is sitting at a table when her father, lord Lordus Abu־Beth, enters the room. A big strawberry hued scar crosses his face diagonally. “Where is your chaperon?”, he demands. “In my room”, she stammers. “My dress. Torn. She fixes”. Lordus grunts. “No mind. I have contacted an important priest visiting our town, a holy man. He will come cleanse your soul of the foul deeds you've done”. She cries, and pleas her innocence, and bangs her little fists on his chest, and for a moment he is entranced by the flow of her chestnut hair, but then his face harden and he takes her to her room. She pulls his hair, childishly, and manages to grab a handful before he locks her in her room and goes to fetch the priest. Having lost to the Garb he loses two dice from self protection.