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(Archive) Crib notes

Tags: Bernar,  Brev

Short Summary: Ban's in need of a crib, but Brev is somewhat reluctant to release his handiwork.
Date (real-life): 2013-01-05
Scene Location: Esgaroth: Business Parade
Date (in-game): November 3057
Time of Day: Evening
Weather: Stormy

Business Parade(#24518Rt)

Stemming off from the Avenue of Tales, this is a decently sized enclave of various businesses, warehouses and workshops. Store-fronts come in all shapes and sizes in a cheerful, colorful frieze along the street, culminating in a large of cul-de-sac within the midst of the residential areas. Buildings here are often two or three storeys high, some with more than one business to each, and so the parade of signs perhaps takes a little getting used to.

All the same, if Merchant's Way is where the commerce lives, here is where the manufacturers thrive, and the street has been widened to allow for a few wagons to pass at once. Often can be heard the muted sound of sawing, or hammering, or even the sound of sacks being moved, as the gentle industry of the shop-owners goes on. A few side streets run off to residences and the like, while to the west the street widens further as it rejoins the Avenue of Tales.

(OOC Note: This room represents multiple locations. +store/list for more.)

Obvious exits:
 Out leads to Center of Avenue of Tales.


In the north-west corner of the Business Parade is a tall, double-height building of sound though weathered wood. On its south side, facing the street, a high narrow window has been joined by two broader ones at a lower height that look to be additions, with neatly slatted shutters. The door is new also, and incised with the carpenter's badge of crossed hammer and chisel.

Inside, the front of the building is light and airy. Here one will find a sturdy workbench, a tall pole-lathe set up in one corner and an assortment of finished and part-finished projects. Tools are hung neatly from racks on the walls. Halfway along one side is a small hearth with a wide clay-lined hanging chimney; behind this, toward the rear of the building, an additional floor has been put in to create two levels: a loft above (this is screened off by a heavy felt curtain and may represent living space) and a storage area below. A rear door leads out into a common yard.


Over by one wall, a matched pair of folding stools of dark red-brown cherrywood stand, awaiting collection.

A matched set of easy chairs has been set within easy reach of the door; they are constructed of sturdy oak and the arm rests are carved with fanciful depictions of twining water-wyrms, scaled and finned.

The item under construction at the rear of the workshop is a large cradle of yellow pinewood, simple and serviceable; the part-carved border formed by swimming fishes.


Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service

Real Time: Sat Jan 05 15:02:45 2013 MST

Dale-Lands Time:
Early evening on a stormy autumn's night, November 12 of 3057

It is the early evening of Highday, but the weather is anything but cheerful. The rain is cold, the wind is more so, and the occasional crack of lightning arouses the ever-present fear of a fire. Amidst such portents come two soft knocks on the door of Master Brev's workshop. Anyone peering out a window or keyhole would be hard-pressed to tell there are even people there, but risking eye-strain suggests three or four cloaked figures stand outside the door, one closer than the others - all obscured by the wall of water separating them from the building.

In weather like this the windows of the tall, narrow workshop building are firmly shuttered - the knock must have been heard, however, for there's the murmur of voices and then the tramp of feet across wooden floorboards. It is Brev himself who opens the door, pushing stray strands of dark hair from his eyes (and leaving a smear of sawdust across his forehead) and he squints into the rain-soaked gloom. "Yes? You were wanting me?" And then, taking in the state of the street, "Kiern, it must be desperate to bring anyone out in this weather. Come in." He steps back, holding the door wide for whatever person or persons may be waiting.

Ban reveals himself by stepping into the light of the workshop and pushing back his sopping hood. "Good evening, Master Brev." The circles under his eyes are darker than ever, and his right hand is in a leather glove. He looks to wipe his feet and keep from dripping excessively inside, but the need to let the people behind him out of the elements pushes him to hurry, and he steps further inside. Two rough-looking fellows one may recognize from the Fishtale, if one frequents that fine establishment, follow him: one tall and lithe, the other short and barrel-chested, but both appearing strong. "I hope you are well and dry."

"There was a bit of an accident or poor craftsmanship with the borrowed baby-bed I had while waiting for the crib to completed; the thing is quite broken. I brought a few acquaintances-" He gestures vaguely to the two men; the taller one nods, the short merely grimaces. "-in the hope that yours would be ready by now."

He pauses. "Is it?"

Brev does not look entirely surprised to see that first figure push in out of the weather - after all, who else but a man down on his luck would be out in rain like this? At the sight of the two that follow him, however, one dark brow arches. Surreptitiously he shifts position so that he's between the newcomers and the rear of the workshop.

Behind him, the staccato percussion of a chisel suddenly stops; there is an awkward silence.

Ban's speech causes that brow to arch further. "Drier than you," Brev quips with a tight half-grin, then sighs softly. "When a craftsman is given a job, he generally releases the item to the person who commissioned it," he comments neutrally. "Which in this instance would be Lord Bernar of Karath. I /had/ wondered if you were here to collect those folding stools ..." He lets his gaze drift toward one wall, against which a couple of cherrywood stools with separate back panels have been stacked neatly out of the way.

Ban blinks once. "Yes, those as well. One thing pushes out another, doesn't it? I'd quite forgotten about them, with... everything." He glances around the shop to see if the crib is evident. "The honorable Lord Bernar is not expecting a child, is he? Whereas I have immediate need of it. I would even pay a surcharge for-" He pauses, reaching for an appropriate phrase. "-swift completion of contract. And you would not need to deliver it yourself."

"Better for everyone, don't you think?" And there is a slightly ragged edge to his voice. "Especially Gwayne." While Ban speaks, the other two are looking. The short one openly gawks. The taller one doesn't turn his head, but merely his eyes, but he looks with a greater intensity.

There /is/ something covered with tarpaulin at the rear of the shop, should the sharp-eyed look that way. And beside it, working on a large tabletop-sized board into which a design is being carved, is a scrawny sandy-haired youth of fourteen summers or so, staring at the newcomers unhappily and gripping his chisel very hard.

Brev runs a hand over his hair, pulling a few more strands loose. "I'm sorry for your misfortunes, Master Rhinvan," he says carefully. "I did not wish it for you." A silence. Then he shakes his head. "But that's not how it works. It's not a question of money, it's a question of integrity. Kiern knows I'd not have your bairn in need. I can come back with you now, and do what I can to make that broken cot safe. Or you and your ..friends.. can leave, I can speak with Lord Bernar and I wouldn't be surprised if you find yourself the recipient of a new crib before the evening's out. Which would you prefer?" He rests his hands on his hips and waits calmly.

Ban's mouth works a bit behind closed lips before he says anything. "I'd hoped to avoid dragging you out into the weather," he mutters. Louder, he says, "But I'd sooner only bring you into the weather than have you soaked and Karath Manor disturbed both." He pauses, seemingly deep in thought.

Noticing Brev's pause on the word 'friends,' he glances at the two men he brought. "Who, them? They're harmless, or ought to be. I told them you could probably kill them both. Especially without their cudgels." He shakes his head.

"It is dismal out," Ban says, "and be it upon my head if Lord Bernar takes an interruption amiss. You two seem hard at work," he says, making a sudden decision. "I will be back with an appropriate document or messenger if Lord Karath releases the order to me. What exactly would you need?" He waves the two men back outside and pulls the hood of his cloak back up as he readies to go back out himself.

There's a small choked sound from the apprentice lad at the rear of the workshop at the mention of 'cudgels'. Without turning his head, Brev tells the lad, "Ottar, there's no need to stop work. You're not making /that/ much noise, we can talk over it."

Looking back to Ban, he tells the moneylender. "It's only rain. I've weathered far worse, I've a nice warm dry loft to come back to ... besides," he clears his throat and waits until the two Fishtale fellows start to make a move, "I think things would go better for you if I made the suggestion. Lord Bernar is a little quick-tempered, but he seems to have a soft spot for healers." One corner of his mouth lifts a little.

Seeing Ban's hood drawn up, he tells the man, "I give you my word that one way or another you'll have a crib by the end of this evening. On what street are you living?"

"The Avenue of Smiths," Ban answers. Clearly, it is not a place for smithying any longer. He snorts. "You will know which by the squalling babe." He hesitates for a moment before stepping into the rain. "Thank you, Master Brev. I will remember this." And then he moves into the rain.

One brow arches again at those final words, but Brev simply states quietly, "Be well, Master Rhinvan."

He does not close the door behind the moneylender but instead turns back to ask his apprentice, "Reckon you can keep on a little longer? I'm bound for House Karath, it shouldn't take too long."

Ottar glances toward the tarpaulin and wonders, "M-master, why d-didn't you-"

Brev snorts softly. "Reputation. What use is a craftsman who takes someone's money then fails to deliver the goods? We're carpenters, with the Guild's name to uphold as well as our own. Reflect on that, lad." Then he too steps out into the downpour, drawing the door gently to behind him, and splashes hastily westwards.


''The crib''

Here stands a sturdy crib large enough to accommodate an infant through to toddlerhood and constructed from aromatic yellow pine wood. Sides and base have been carefully smoothed, and a decorative border of leaping fish encircles the upper rim.

At the foot of the crib this border broadens into an oval representing the Lake, with the blocky outlines of buildings (Laketown?) and a small vessel unloading, no doubt a depiction of the town's wealth. Perhaps it is intended to convey good fortune.

On the back headboard of the crib, which might well rest hidden against a wall depending on how the item is positioned, is a small rectangular panel showing carven trees and amidst them a snarling wildcat.

Date added: 2014-11-28 09:29:42    Hits: 64
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