For rules and Character Sheet, go here: https://inkbunny.net/s/1985281
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Prior Segment Results:

[Roles] Noble Heir
[Location] Caravan
[Stat Bonuses] Dexterity +6/Int +3 Dex +3 (tied) [Coinflipper lands Tails for Int +3 Dex +3] https://gyazo.com/34094f55c18b5c980455e7bc9de1c80a
[Traits] Nocturnal Enuresis, Steel Tank, Empathetic, Ever Frantic
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So before we get truly started, there's something I need to point out first. Due to administrative inabilities to respond to a request for assistance, whether positively or negatively, on omorashi.org, the IFWS is no longer available on that website. As the IFWS is no longer being produced on FurAffinity or Omorashi, it is now officially an Inkbunny.net exclusive. As such, the www.poll-maker.com voting system is now obsolete and voting will now take place in the comments of each segment. The rules will be updated accordingly to reflect this. Thank you for your patience!
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As the sun shines down upon your face- filtered red and green and other shades- on another peaceful morning, you open your eyes to see a wooden ceiling, curved on the sides that went down to stained glass windows that lined the walls. There was a door on the far end that allowed access in and out of the rather large and cozy wagon. This is your personal wagon, part of a large caravan that your family was currently using to get to one of the larger cities in the country which bordered the Southern seas. You shift in your bed, feeling too comfy to get up right away, but a cool, damp and clammy sensation between your legs jolts you awake as you try to find a good resting position. Your eyes open wide for a moment before your sense of surprise is washed away by that of an all-too familiar shame.

You lean up and pull the linens off of yourself- sure enough, as soon as the telltale dark patch is revealed to the open air, the musty, acrid scent is billowed throughout the wagon. It seemed to still be a bit fresh, leaving you maybe only half an hour ago. You groan softly in self-directed disgust as you assess the damage to your person; your nightclothes had become semi-transparent at the groin, letting a shade of red from the matted fur underneath glower through the cloudy-blue satin fabric. The material clung tightly to your thighs, outlined the shape of your maleness, made you feel altogether indecent and in need of something to cover yourself with.

You look over to the side towards the clothes chest at your left and look into the mirror directly above it. You see your own face, the visage of one Andrew Brighton, heir to the Brighton Family, a noble house of the Kingdom of Chaisil, a peaceful nation with a few too many foreign countries on its borders. Your face is nothing particularly special, at least as far as you are concerned, unscarred but having no qualities that would make you especially attractive towards the fairer sex. Your eyes, a lustrous and almost shining goldenrod color, carry the weight of your lineage and prove beyond all doubt that you are a Brighton. Your hair is thick and flowing, wrapping your shoulders in a curtain black as night.

With a sigh, you push the edge of the chest upward, easy enough when you feel no particular need to lock a chest of simple clothes, and reveal the contents to yourself. The articles of clothing are separated into three segments from left to right; a third of the chest dedicated to tunics, a third for trousers and a third for miscellaneous pieces such as shoes, hats and luxurious things like jewelry and other knick-knacks. You pull out the first things that your paws make contact with, a decorated light-green tunic and a pair of tan breeches that went down to the ankles. Rather tight, but they would do well enough.

You close the chest and place your replacement dressings on the lid before reaching down and pulling the nightshirt over your head, removing it. You then hook your thumbs under the waist of your bottoms and do much the same, pushing them down your thighs and legs. Your wet fur has a hard time letting go, but you are able to wrench them off of your frame, leaving you stark naked inside your wagon. You stand, wondering for a moment what you should do to get clean enough to avoid ruining the outfit that you've selected for yourself. Seemingly on cue, there is a knock on the pane of stained glass that decorates the top half of the wagon door. You panic for only a moment, until you hear the voice of the person on the other side.

"Is everything well, ser?" That was the voice of your personal servant, Gerard Mercer. Older than anyone else you know, at least in his mid to late 50's, Gerard has been serving your family since before even your Father was born. He's a dove, the fact of which has kept him from ever being anything more than a personal butler, but his dedication and devotion to the Brightons- if nothing else- has kept him from being fired or having his contract sold off to another family.

In response, you walk up to the door and give two silenced knocks on the glass pane, your code for discretion, before unlatching the upper half of the door and pulling it open, letting unfiltered light flood the interior of the wagon, brightening it up considerably. Ordinarily it would be considered extremely inappropriate to bare all before a servant, but your condition often required a quick change. Upon removing the barrier to the outside world, you could see Gerards' face as well as the pleasant view of the tree line directly behind him.

"It's happened again..." You mutter under your breath with a light blush upon your muzzle. Immediately, the elderly man gave a short nod and opened his beak to respond.

"I understand, ser. I've already installed a bathing partition." He gestured with one wing towards the side of the wagon, keeping his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll have your linens and nightclothes cleaned before the end of the hour, simply leave them in there." You give a nod in acknowledgement and open the lower half of the door as well. Gerard steps out of the way as you leave the wagon, giving you a once over before moving along to the other side and heading towards the center of the encampment. You close the door behind you and move around the opposite end, finding the partition as promised, complete with a small tub of water, a washcloth and a towel. It wasn't much, but you suspect the dove must have gone to some lengths to get a wooden tub filled up enough to bathe with without drawing attention.

You do what you need to do, soaking the wash cloth and using it to clean the bodily water from your crotch and thighs, gliding it over your fur and using the water from the tub to rinse. You are especially careful with your sheath, taking care not to let the rough fabric irritate the sensitive area. You manage to get cleaned up fully in less than ten minutes, taking a towel to dry everything off before leaving everything there and slipping back into the wagon unnoticed. You quickly get dressed in your outfit of the day. Once your misfortunate morning routine is done, you step back outside with a much lighter spring in your step. You head around the wagon, one of several that you can see, and direct yourself toward the center of the encampment.

The wagons that surround the center are much like yours, large and finely decorated, each having a high level of craftsmanship. The wagons are owned and used by the Brighton family, each part of a large caravan. You find your Mother and Father sitting in front of one wagon in particular, the largest of the fleet. You head over, intending to discuss things with them before the caravan resumes its journey. They both seem to be holding idle conversation, but stop as you approach them.

"Good morning, Andrew." The voice of your Mother, Blair, was the first to speak out. "Good morning, Mother. Father." You gave a polite bow to each of them in turn, showing your respect as the rules of polite company demanded. Blair was not only the caretaker of house and home, but she also handled more of the rough stuff than Father was often willing to let on.

"We were just speaking of the road ahead. Gerard tells me a patrol passed by early this morning." The more gruff of the two voices was that of your Father, Tybalt. He seemed more in control of everything than he really was. It was often considered a virtue however, to project more power than he actually had. In truth, both parents were in charge of the dynasty and all its business. "Apparently the roads ahead of us have had a surge of banditry in recent weeks."

"Are the roads safe to travel?" You put forward the most immediate question in your mind. As you do, you realize that you are quite thirsty, the words making your dry throat itch.

"They should be. Even if they aren't in particular, we have enough hired protection that we'll be okay." Eleanor allayed your fears with all the confidence of a woman who had surely hired the best mercenary soldiers that could be afforded.

"Despite this, we should likely move ourselves along sooner rather than later. We should be arriving in Ylora by midday tomorrow, but the closer we are when we stop for the night, the better." Tybalt's words of wisdom had no chance of falling on deaf ears, you nod in silence.

"With that in mind," Eleanor turned to you, "Andrew, be a dear and go find Blair and Matthias, would you? Those two seem to have wandered away from camp again."
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TUTORIAL

Bladder, Thirst and Overfill

As the story progresses, thirst will be an ever-present concern. Thirst is a stat that represents how much liquid is available in Andrew's body. Letting that liquid reach 0ml (out of a strict 1000ml maximum) will cause him to dehydrate, resulting in damage and disadvantage on all dice rolls. If Andrew does not drink anything, he will inevitably die. Keeping the Thirst meter at a full 1000ml will give him advantage on all rolls, but be careful about Overfill. Thirst will drop 100ml each segment.

As water enters the body, it must eventually come back out again. Bladder is a stat that represents how much liquid is waiting to be expelled. When Bladder surpasses a certain value, (75% or more of the maximum,) an Urge Check (1d20) is required to prevent leakage. Failing this check by one or more results in a small leakage, which could be spotted by especially perceptive individuals. Failing by four or more results in a much larger leak which is similarly much easier to notice. Failing by eight or more results in a complete release and a humiliating accident. Bladder will fill by 100ml for each segment that Thirst is above 0ml. Bladder maximum value can be increased over time by challenging Andrew's limits. It can also be decreased if Andrew relieves himself before Urge Checks need to be made.

Overfill is what happens when Andrew drinks too much liquid before his body can process it. When he is made to drink something that would exceed his maximum Thirst stat when added, the excess will be added to Overfill. When there is a value above 0ml in Overfill, Thirst will remain full at 1000ml until the Overfill meter drops to 0ml again. Andrew becomes mildly sick in this state, gaining the advantage on all dice rolls just as Thirst grants, EXCEPT for Urge Checks, which gain disadvantage. As well, the Bladder fills at double the normal rate until the Overfill ends. Surpassing the maximum Overfill limit will cause Andrew to become violently ill as his body seeks an alternate means of voiding the excess. Avoid this. Overfill maximum value can be increased only by alchemical means. It cannot be decreased.
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Author's Suggestions

~Go look for the others as requested

~Go talk to Gerard

~Find something to drink first

~Ask what we're doing going to Ylora

~Inspect the mercenaries

Alignment 1

A: Lawful

B: Neutral

C: Chaotic

Alignment 2

D: Good

E: Neutral

F: Evil