Elendor
Midnight mushrooms
Representatives of no fewer than four races are drawn to Oskar's campfire, much to the dwarf's chagrin
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Greenway crossing
Game Date: September 1,1446
IC Time: Night
Description: The Greenway Crossing
The Greenway Crossing stands as the meeting point for the Greenway and the Great East Road. The Greenway stretches north and south for many miles more than the eye can absorb, and the Great East Road continues to the west to the same degree. To the east, just beyond this juncture in fact, stands a gate. With the sun now asleep behind the horizon, the gate which heads east into the village of Bree stands closed. Nearby stands a night watchman who guards it closely.
Obvious exits:
South, East, North, and West
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Sun Apr 12 22:57:00 2009
Bree time: Late Night <03:51:00> on Mersday of Autumn - September 1,1446
Moon Phase: Full Moon
Breelands Weather
The late night autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly.
===============================================================================
[Caelwen(#24844)]
There is a peace on the road tonight. Clouds do not linger in the skies and so the stars are spread one upon the other, trying to crowd the heavy moon away. Autumn leaves sleepily shush each other.
Yes, very poetic, and the peace that is trying to make sonnets in the atmosphere may well have something to do with the lady who is standing a bit up the road from the gate. She is tall and pale and slender, with bright eyes that alternate between watching Bree and watching the stars.
[Nob(#16122)] A small fire burns fitfully beside a wagon, even though it's not really needed. It is covered over and brightly painted, and two sturdy ponies are tethered nearby. Someone sits beside the flames and stares broodingly into them, poking at the coals occasionally with a stick. It really is a very small fire its light barely spreads 5 feet.
The little fellow working his way along a ditch, nose bent almost to the ground, is clearly thinking of neither stars nor sonnets. The full moon glints on a bobbing mass of chestnut curls as he ducks his head to peer at a nearby clump of grass, sniffing the air loudly. Only then, as he perhaps catches a whiff of smoke, does his head lift. "That's never mushrooms," he murmurs, disappointed.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Darkness cloaks the land and the figures moving across it, and so the woman known as Rifka wears none, preferring to feel the cool autumn nibble across her skin and shiver occasionally underneath it. Her steps are slow, meandering. The woman enjoys the stars and the moon, looking up and wondering idly if the clouds are forebearers of rain.
[Caelwen(#24844)]
Caelwen's eyes lower from the skies. A flare of a fire attracts her attention and she spends a moment in silence watching the short figure beside the wagon with suspicion. The other two are spared hardly a glance.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar is a highly suspicious character, after all. He shifts (not gracefully), grunts (unmelodically), sighs (not soundlessly), and belches. The aroma coming from the fire is that of charred beef, nary a mushroom in sight. The dwarf doesn't notice Caelwen at all, but he does seem to hear someone moving around nearby, for he looks up from the fire, blinking a bit and squinting into the darkness, and muttering something that (if anyone is close enough to hear) is a string of maledictions on his own head for being so stupid as to stare into the fire until he can't see. One hand feels for the spit that is lying across the rocks nearby.
The rotund hobbit-shaped figure down by the ditch straightens up slowly, sniffing again. "Ugh!" He mumbles, but he approaches the fire nonetheless. "Uh - hello?" After all, it's only a dwarf - and aren't dwarves supposed to be friendly sorts?
[Rifka(#24137)]
The fire seems to be a common draw and the tall woman wanders towards it slowly, taking her time, each step slow and wandering. A slim hand tucks a brunette strand of hair behind her ear and she smiles charmingly, pleased to see the beacon and come closer to it. Rifka tilts her head slightly as she draws nearer, noting others coming out from the cover of night to expose themselves to the fire's glow.
[Caelwen(#24844)]
Caelwen raises on her bare toes and ghosts silently away from the fire. This happens to bring her closer to Brandebras, pale in the moonlight, and she pauses to look down her nose at the hobbit from her great height.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar's fingers close over the iron spit and he starts to lift it... when the shadow approaching him turns into a hobbit followed by a woman followed by a bit of errant moonlight. The dwarf grunts something that the more charitable might decide was a 'hello' and glowers at the hobbit and then at Rifka. "S'a blasted party," he grumbles, and spares a hasty glance for his wagon - which is shut up tight, if not locked.
The hobbit, on finding the stars blotted out by a willowy form, lets out a sudden squeak. "What - ah, who-" he stammers towards Caelwen's dainty toes, shivering a little as the excitement of mushroom hunting is replaced by inborn fear of being out in The Wild.
Then the dwarf himself speaks, and before he can stop himself the little fellow, one Brandebras Bywater by name, blurts out an astonished, "You're having a party out /here/?"
[Caelwen(#24844)]
The dwarf speaks. Caelwen looks back at him, the short form beside the fire, and her eyes are now pure malevolence, narrowing, her face twisting its beauty. She lifts on her toes and wheels, running away to the south and the west. The evening's song is lessened as she passes out of sight into the forest.
[Rifka(#24137)]
A soft, fluid voice flows from the woman's lips as Rifka speaks. "If you wish, I'm sure we can depart as easily as we came..." She glances to the hobbit, a small smile coming to her lips and quickly hidden as she raises her hand to smother it. Tilting her head slightly, the woman regards the dwarf with simple curiosity.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar looks up, too late to see the figure that frightens Brandebras. "Oskar," he says impatiently, assuming the hobbit is talking to him. "And I /wasn't/ having a party, no but it appears that one has arriven, whether I like it or not." He gives Rifka a jaundiced look. It doesn't seem to be personal this dwarf must be in a perpetually bad mood.
Brandebras shudders as the unknown figure moves away. "A ghost?" he mumbles, a quaver in his voice. Rifka's words do nothing to calm his nerves, for at the sound of her speech he actually jumps a good half-foot in the air. "I- I-"
Oskar's voice, however, is reassuringly solid. "Do you have food and drink? You need those for a proper party, you know," he informs the surly dwarf sagely.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Rifka missed the fleeting passage of the other female and merely looks around in puzzlement at the Hobbit's words. Tilting her head, she regards the dwarf once more, his surly attitude not deterring her, it would seem. Not yet, at least. "Would you begrudge us the company of your fire?" The question is soft and simple, no offense given in the words, and none taken with whatever reply may come.
[Nob(#16122)] The dwarf looks alarmed. "Oh no you don't," he says hastily. "You're not weaseling into my pantry and making off with my dinner! If you want a party, you can bring your own!" If he sounds ungracious, he doesn't seem to care one speck, though he does say to Rifka, grudgingly, "No, no, sit by the fire if you must."
The hobbit sighs disappointedly at Oskar's answer. "That's a pity. I was going to offer some of these mushrooms, but maybe I shouldn't bother."
He turns his gaze on Rifka then - and his brows scrunch up in puzzlement (or maybe it's worry?). "Uh - I don't think I know you?"
[Rifka(#24137)]
A soft chuckle of amusement falls from her lips as the Hobbit directs his questioning statement at her. Rifka gazes down on him kindly and replies, "I don't expect you would, as I am new to the area and have yet to meet all the fine people here..." Coming a little closer to the fire, the tall woman kneels, folding her skirts underneath her knees to cover her legs. At least now she is not towering over either the dwarf or the hobbit.
[Nob(#16122)] "Pan's right there," Oskar says still ungraciously. He gestures towards a cast-iron skillet with the spit which he is still holding. "Cook 'em if you want." He scowls at Rifka, but doesn't say anything further.
Brandebras hesitates, caught between curiosity, greed and inbuilt hobbit-caution. In the end it is the former that wins out, for he blinks toward Rifka, openly staring now that he doesn't have to crane his neck to look up at her, then ventures, "But where else /is/ there? You can't be from the Shire, you're too ... well, Big."
To Oskar he answers, sounding just a little cross, "You want /me/ to cook them so you can eat them, and not give me any food in return? That wouldn't be fair."
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar rolls his eyes. "You can cook them, so /you/ can eat them," he says impatiently. "The only thing mushrooms are good for is stew, and I don't want any stew at this hour of the night, so if you care to mess with your digestion, be my guest." His eyes slide towards Rifka waiting for her answer there is a slight smirk on his face.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Taking a better look at the hobbit, with the helpful light of the fire, Rifka's eyes widen slightly and her mouth opens in surprise. "Oh my! You're not a child at all!" She blinks her grey eyes several times as the sight of the hobbit sinks in, the fact that he looks full grown, but is only half her height. Recalling her manners, Rifka turns her eyes back towards the fire. "And here I thought everyone had at least heard of Gondor, but I suppose there is more to the world than I thought..."
Brandebras still hesitates. He gazes longingly at the fire, shivering a little in the chill night air, but one hand now clutches protectively at the little satchel slung over his shoulder.
"I'm almost of age, you know," he informs Rifka crossly. "Where's Gondor, anyway? Is it somewhere off east? Miss Wood comes from there, I think. Is it a whole day's journey away? Two?" His brown eyes are bright and eager, fear forgotten in the quest for information.
[Nob(#16122)] The hobbit is ridiculously slow about getting his snack going. Oskar snorts, ignores entirely the girl's mention of Gondor, and says, "I'm hardly going to beat you over the head and steal them, go ahead and cook them if you like." And he crosses his arms and returns to staring into the flames, attempting (or pretending) to ignore both of his uninvited guests.
[Rifka(#24137)]
At the hobbot's questions, Rifka goes silent for a long time, staring into the fire. "It is many moon's journey from here. A long trek and one that..." she pauses, nibbling on her lower lip before finishing quietly, "It's a hard journey." Perhaps a poor description, but then, with the sadness that tinges her fair face, it seems it might also be a hard journey to describe.
Brandebras follows the direction of Rifka's gaze, but where her features are sad, his - reflecting the flame's glow - are merely hungry. "Welll ..." The single drawn-out word in Oskar's direction is followed by action, as the hobbit lifts an empty skillet. "Do you have any butter? Or dripping, even?"
He steals a sidelong glance at Rifka, one of awe. "Many moons - you mean it's away over the mountains?" He waves an arm vaguely east, to where a few lights twinkle here and there within the sleepy township of Bree.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar silently pushes a small crock half-filled with some sort of grease towards the hobbit. His eyes, calculating and greedy, return to Rifka... though many months of travel is really quite a lot for an unproven market.
Brandebras takes the crock, sniffs at it suspiciously, then scoops out a dollop and flips it into the pan. "Thanks," he offers to Oskar, already sounding cheerier. "I'll just get cooking then, shall I?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns away from his companions, quite preoccupied in his own task, and soon the wonderful scent of fried mushrooms fills the air. Who knows, once he's full up he might even share.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Rifka smile softly and murmurs, "It is far to the south, beyond the mountains." But talk of home is a bit of a touch subject and Rifka rises, beginning to wander back the way she came. "Thank you for the hospitality of your fire." she calls over her shoulder, smiling once more, with a bit more radiance than before as she disappears into the night.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar grunts, and stares into his fire, and whether or not he will take any of the mushrooms remains to be seen.
The Greenway Crossing stands as the meeting point for the Greenway and the Great East Road. The Greenway stretches north and south for many miles more than the eye can absorb, and the Great East Road continues to the west to the same degree. To the east, just beyond this juncture in fact, stands a gate. With the sun now asleep behind the horizon, the gate which heads east into the village of Bree stands closed. Nearby stands a night watchman who guards it closely.
Obvious exits:
South, East, North, and West
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Sun Apr 12 22:57:00 2009
Bree time: Late Night <03:51:00> on Mersday of Autumn - September 1,1446
Moon Phase: Full Moon
Breelands Weather
The late night autumn air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly.
===============================================================================
[Caelwen(#24844)]
There is a peace on the road tonight. Clouds do not linger in the skies and so the stars are spread one upon the other, trying to crowd the heavy moon away. Autumn leaves sleepily shush each other.
Yes, very poetic, and the peace that is trying to make sonnets in the atmosphere may well have something to do with the lady who is standing a bit up the road from the gate. She is tall and pale and slender, with bright eyes that alternate between watching Bree and watching the stars.
[Nob(#16122)] A small fire burns fitfully beside a wagon, even though it's not really needed. It is covered over and brightly painted, and two sturdy ponies are tethered nearby. Someone sits beside the flames and stares broodingly into them, poking at the coals occasionally with a stick. It really is a very small fire its light barely spreads 5 feet.
The little fellow working his way along a ditch, nose bent almost to the ground, is clearly thinking of neither stars nor sonnets. The full moon glints on a bobbing mass of chestnut curls as he ducks his head to peer at a nearby clump of grass, sniffing the air loudly. Only then, as he perhaps catches a whiff of smoke, does his head lift. "That's never mushrooms," he murmurs, disappointed.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Darkness cloaks the land and the figures moving across it, and so the woman known as Rifka wears none, preferring to feel the cool autumn nibble across her skin and shiver occasionally underneath it. Her steps are slow, meandering. The woman enjoys the stars and the moon, looking up and wondering idly if the clouds are forebearers of rain.
[Caelwen(#24844)]
Caelwen's eyes lower from the skies. A flare of a fire attracts her attention and she spends a moment in silence watching the short figure beside the wagon with suspicion. The other two are spared hardly a glance.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar is a highly suspicious character, after all. He shifts (not gracefully), grunts (unmelodically), sighs (not soundlessly), and belches. The aroma coming from the fire is that of charred beef, nary a mushroom in sight. The dwarf doesn't notice Caelwen at all, but he does seem to hear someone moving around nearby, for he looks up from the fire, blinking a bit and squinting into the darkness, and muttering something that (if anyone is close enough to hear) is a string of maledictions on his own head for being so stupid as to stare into the fire until he can't see. One hand feels for the spit that is lying across the rocks nearby.
The rotund hobbit-shaped figure down by the ditch straightens up slowly, sniffing again. "Ugh!" He mumbles, but he approaches the fire nonetheless. "Uh - hello?" After all, it's only a dwarf - and aren't dwarves supposed to be friendly sorts?
[Rifka(#24137)]
The fire seems to be a common draw and the tall woman wanders towards it slowly, taking her time, each step slow and wandering. A slim hand tucks a brunette strand of hair behind her ear and she smiles charmingly, pleased to see the beacon and come closer to it. Rifka tilts her head slightly as she draws nearer, noting others coming out from the cover of night to expose themselves to the fire's glow.
[Caelwen(#24844)]
Caelwen raises on her bare toes and ghosts silently away from the fire. This happens to bring her closer to Brandebras, pale in the moonlight, and she pauses to look down her nose at the hobbit from her great height.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar's fingers close over the iron spit and he starts to lift it... when the shadow approaching him turns into a hobbit followed by a woman followed by a bit of errant moonlight. The dwarf grunts something that the more charitable might decide was a 'hello' and glowers at the hobbit and then at Rifka. "S'a blasted party," he grumbles, and spares a hasty glance for his wagon - which is shut up tight, if not locked.
The hobbit, on finding the stars blotted out by a willowy form, lets out a sudden squeak. "What - ah, who-" he stammers towards Caelwen's dainty toes, shivering a little as the excitement of mushroom hunting is replaced by inborn fear of being out in The Wild.
Then the dwarf himself speaks, and before he can stop himself the little fellow, one Brandebras Bywater by name, blurts out an astonished, "You're having a party out /here/?"
[Caelwen(#24844)]
The dwarf speaks. Caelwen looks back at him, the short form beside the fire, and her eyes are now pure malevolence, narrowing, her face twisting its beauty. She lifts on her toes and wheels, running away to the south and the west. The evening's song is lessened as she passes out of sight into the forest.
[Rifka(#24137)]
A soft, fluid voice flows from the woman's lips as Rifka speaks. "If you wish, I'm sure we can depart as easily as we came..." She glances to the hobbit, a small smile coming to her lips and quickly hidden as she raises her hand to smother it. Tilting her head slightly, the woman regards the dwarf with simple curiosity.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar looks up, too late to see the figure that frightens Brandebras. "Oskar," he says impatiently, assuming the hobbit is talking to him. "And I /wasn't/ having a party, no but it appears that one has arriven, whether I like it or not." He gives Rifka a jaundiced look. It doesn't seem to be personal this dwarf must be in a perpetually bad mood.
Brandebras shudders as the unknown figure moves away. "A ghost?" he mumbles, a quaver in his voice. Rifka's words do nothing to calm his nerves, for at the sound of her speech he actually jumps a good half-foot in the air. "I- I-"
Oskar's voice, however, is reassuringly solid. "Do you have food and drink? You need those for a proper party, you know," he informs the surly dwarf sagely.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Rifka missed the fleeting passage of the other female and merely looks around in puzzlement at the Hobbit's words. Tilting her head, she regards the dwarf once more, his surly attitude not deterring her, it would seem. Not yet, at least. "Would you begrudge us the company of your fire?" The question is soft and simple, no offense given in the words, and none taken with whatever reply may come.
[Nob(#16122)] The dwarf looks alarmed. "Oh no you don't," he says hastily. "You're not weaseling into my pantry and making off with my dinner! If you want a party, you can bring your own!" If he sounds ungracious, he doesn't seem to care one speck, though he does say to Rifka, grudgingly, "No, no, sit by the fire if you must."
The hobbit sighs disappointedly at Oskar's answer. "That's a pity. I was going to offer some of these mushrooms, but maybe I shouldn't bother."
He turns his gaze on Rifka then - and his brows scrunch up in puzzlement (or maybe it's worry?). "Uh - I don't think I know you?"
[Rifka(#24137)]
A soft chuckle of amusement falls from her lips as the Hobbit directs his questioning statement at her. Rifka gazes down on him kindly and replies, "I don't expect you would, as I am new to the area and have yet to meet all the fine people here..." Coming a little closer to the fire, the tall woman kneels, folding her skirts underneath her knees to cover her legs. At least now she is not towering over either the dwarf or the hobbit.
[Nob(#16122)] "Pan's right there," Oskar says still ungraciously. He gestures towards a cast-iron skillet with the spit which he is still holding. "Cook 'em if you want." He scowls at Rifka, but doesn't say anything further.
Brandebras hesitates, caught between curiosity, greed and inbuilt hobbit-caution. In the end it is the former that wins out, for he blinks toward Rifka, openly staring now that he doesn't have to crane his neck to look up at her, then ventures, "But where else /is/ there? You can't be from the Shire, you're too ... well, Big."
To Oskar he answers, sounding just a little cross, "You want /me/ to cook them so you can eat them, and not give me any food in return? That wouldn't be fair."
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar rolls his eyes. "You can cook them, so /you/ can eat them," he says impatiently. "The only thing mushrooms are good for is stew, and I don't want any stew at this hour of the night, so if you care to mess with your digestion, be my guest." His eyes slide towards Rifka waiting for her answer there is a slight smirk on his face.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Taking a better look at the hobbit, with the helpful light of the fire, Rifka's eyes widen slightly and her mouth opens in surprise. "Oh my! You're not a child at all!" She blinks her grey eyes several times as the sight of the hobbit sinks in, the fact that he looks full grown, but is only half her height. Recalling her manners, Rifka turns her eyes back towards the fire. "And here I thought everyone had at least heard of Gondor, but I suppose there is more to the world than I thought..."
Brandebras still hesitates. He gazes longingly at the fire, shivering a little in the chill night air, but one hand now clutches protectively at the little satchel slung over his shoulder.
"I'm almost of age, you know," he informs Rifka crossly. "Where's Gondor, anyway? Is it somewhere off east? Miss Wood comes from there, I think. Is it a whole day's journey away? Two?" His brown eyes are bright and eager, fear forgotten in the quest for information.
[Nob(#16122)] The hobbit is ridiculously slow about getting his snack going. Oskar snorts, ignores entirely the girl's mention of Gondor, and says, "I'm hardly going to beat you over the head and steal them, go ahead and cook them if you like." And he crosses his arms and returns to staring into the flames, attempting (or pretending) to ignore both of his uninvited guests.
[Rifka(#24137)]
At the hobbot's questions, Rifka goes silent for a long time, staring into the fire. "It is many moon's journey from here. A long trek and one that..." she pauses, nibbling on her lower lip before finishing quietly, "It's a hard journey." Perhaps a poor description, but then, with the sadness that tinges her fair face, it seems it might also be a hard journey to describe.
Brandebras follows the direction of Rifka's gaze, but where her features are sad, his - reflecting the flame's glow - are merely hungry. "Welll ..." The single drawn-out word in Oskar's direction is followed by action, as the hobbit lifts an empty skillet. "Do you have any butter? Or dripping, even?"
He steals a sidelong glance at Rifka, one of awe. "Many moons - you mean it's away over the mountains?" He waves an arm vaguely east, to where a few lights twinkle here and there within the sleepy township of Bree.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar silently pushes a small crock half-filled with some sort of grease towards the hobbit. His eyes, calculating and greedy, return to Rifka... though many months of travel is really quite a lot for an unproven market.
Brandebras takes the crock, sniffs at it suspiciously, then scoops out a dollop and flips it into the pan. "Thanks," he offers to Oskar, already sounding cheerier. "I'll just get cooking then, shall I?" Without waiting for an answer, he turns away from his companions, quite preoccupied in his own task, and soon the wonderful scent of fried mushrooms fills the air. Who knows, once he's full up he might even share.
[Rifka(#24137)]
Rifka smile softly and murmurs, "It is far to the south, beyond the mountains." But talk of home is a bit of a touch subject and Rifka rises, beginning to wander back the way she came. "Thank you for the hospitality of your fire." she calls over her shoulder, smiling once more, with a bit more radiance than before as she disappears into the night.
[Nob(#16122)] Oskar grunts, and stares into his fire, and whether or not he will take any of the mushrooms remains to be seen.
Players: Caelwen, Oskar, Brandebras, Rifka
