Elendor
Singing for supper
A traveller to Forthunn decides to regale the refugees with news in the form of a ditty or two
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Forthunn -- Dunland
Game Date: 17 of August in the year 3045
IC Time: Morning
Description: Forthunn -- Dunland <>
Enclosed by stone walls twice the height of men is the fortified town of Forthunn -- home to the largest number of Stag Clansmen in Dunland. A broad marketplace stands in the middle of the town, just inside the gates, and nearly every day dozens of farmers arrive to sell their produce and exchange the latest news. Surrounding the market are the more permanent buildings -- most of them made of wooden planking, some with mortared cobblestones, all with roofs of thatch -- that house various shops, taverns, homes, and storage sheds.
During the day, the market is full of Stag men and women going about their business sounds of livestock can be heard and the occasional cart, drawn by ox or pony, rumbles across the cobblestone paving. At night, sounds of merriment can often be heard from the local tavern, though much of the town lies in silence and is lit only by furtive candlelight or the brighter flame of torches near the town and keep gates.
Obvious exits:
Wooden Door leads to Staggering Hunter Alehouse <>.
Northwest leads to Dunland <>.
East leads to Northlands - Dunland <>.
Town Gate leads to Rickety Bridge to Forthunn - Dunland <>.
Keep Gate leads to Entrance Hall -- Stag Keep <>.
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sun Dec 07 14:20:36 2008
IC weather is: Wind: fresh - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Before Dawn
IC date is: Mersday, Day 17 of August in the year 3045.
===============================================================================
A fresh westerly wind whistles through the tent city that sprung has outside the walled town of Forthunn, picking up debris and tugging at awnings a stark reminder that while it is summer now, soon it will be autumn, and after that ... Dawn is here, and with it heads emerge from their shelters as those made homeless by the destruction of Kierkgard begin their daily routine.
Brev was clearly up before the dawn, for now he emerges from the greyness of the surrounding fields, pacing carefully back toward the knot of tents, tucking something into his belt as he goes. Alas, today he returns empty-handed - unless one counts the bundle of firewood tucked under one arm. Even this is spindly.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian is just waking, snooping around for a bit of early breakfast to enjoy before the greater population wakes. He spots a crabapple that doesn't look too wormy and settles on that, drawing his knife and beginning to slice a bite free, the juice dribbling down over his hand.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Someone approaches!"
A lookout perched on a nice comfortable branch on a sturdy tree announces.
"That's Brev.. We can see him from here." Saffron crawls out of the tent and stretches her limbs.
"No no. Someone else approaches. He comes alone, though." He continues to gaze out into the distance.
Brev continues at a steady pace, pausing by the overhanging branch to state sourly to whoever's listening, "Snares were empty. I'll go out with the sling later, maybe ..." He glances up toward the lookout, and breaks off with a "huh?" The firewood is unceremoniously dumped at his feet, and his hand slides towards his knife-hilt. Yes, he's jumpy these days.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian walks a few steps over to where Saffron is climbing out of her tent, crunching on the bite of apple as he tries to spot the approaching figure. "There be people always coming.." He says quietly, then slices a second piece from the apple and offers it to the woman.
[Saffron(#15443)]
Sharing has become a common occurrence within the refugees, so the Chicken Woman takes the offered slice with a nod of appreciation.
When Brev announces the snares were empty, Saffron nods without surprise. "It is fine, Brev. There's still plenty of salted boar meat that can go into the mash. We won't be starving."
The lookout squints into the distance. "He looks to be unarmed and he looks to be hungry more than dangerous. But..it don't hurt to be cautious."
"Not now, maybe," Brev responds to Saffron without taking his eyes off the distant blur of a figure. "But if we stay here... Ach. Said I'd go out, didn't I."
Satisfied that the new arrival will not reach them in the next few moments, he risks a quick glance round, nodding at Finian as his gaze falls on him, and queries drily, "Anyone here expecting company?" His hand remains on his knife.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian only shakes his head in answer to Brev's question and carefully slices another piece of apple away around a bit of rot. He offers the piece to the man, his gaze going back to Saffron. "Another to be joining our cause, maybe?"
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Aye.. I'm expectin a big giant wagon loaded with honey cake with cheese as wheels pulled by two fat sows beggin' to be made into bacon." A warbly man answers Brev's question. Of course, he does not appear to be in any danger of starvation as he walks towards the outskirts of the tent city, most likely to relieve himself from the way he begins to unlace his trousers.
A chorus of disgusted, "Down wind! Go farther downwind!" can be heard in his wake.
Saffron smiles somewhat nervously as Brev hand remains on the knife. "Well, if he does want to join, he'd better make his intentions plain at once. Otherwise, he may be in danger of being eaten by the hungry folks here." She jokes, but she too takes a cautious stand.
The stranger approaches the camp at a comfortable pace, the blurry, sliver of a figure taking shape into that of a man. He waves to the people who stand to watch him. "I mean no harm. I'm just a traveler looking for somethin' to eat in exchange for some news."
Brev takes the piece of apple with his free hand, nodding his thanks to Finnian as he chews. The warbling fellow's attempt at humour is met with a snort, and he pushes his hair away from his eyes that he may see the newcomer better.
"There's precious little to eat round here. What we have, we share between all those who contribute. Did you have something to contribute?" His tone is not exactly hostile, but definitely guarded, and his hand remains where it was. "Anyone know where Carac is," he hisses back to his companions, clearly uncomfortable in the role of spokesperson here.
[Cecilia(#23897)] "At least he not be another Hawk.." Finnian murmurs after the stranger speaks. He looks him over, perhaps as if assessing whether he's a threat. "News? What sort of news? I be willing to give up my breakfast to hear a few things." Tavish offers, lifting his shoulders in a shrug for Brev's inquiry.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Well, I ain't got much. Wild berries don't exactly fill the stomach and that's all I had since I left Creatrach Keep," answers the traveler.
He unslings a worn knapsack that he had flung over his shoulder and reaches inside with one arm.
"Perhaps I can sing a song or two, eh?" and pulls out what looks to be a flute carved from the tusk of some animal. "Surely some kind-hearted soul will think it good enough to earn me a bowl of grub."
Upon hearing Finnian's offer the fellow brightens into a smile. "Ah! Kiern bless ye!"
Brev sighs at Finnian's words, a sound suspiciously like relief. At the stranger's mention of Creatrach the muscle in his cheek twitches, though it is quickly masked by speech. "Wild berries could be added to the pot, perhaps ..." He trails off, giving Saffron an uncertain look, then takes a step back.
"You talk to him, then," he murmurs to Finian. "I'll watch." True to his word, he does not address the newcomer again.
[Cecilia(#23897)] "Last I saw of Creatrach, Brodie's guards be driving their fists into my empty stomach and tellin me to move on. The name is Finn. Finnian Tavish." He extends a hand to the newcomer, his skin still sticky from apple juices. "Songs be good, but news first. What filth do them Bears be up to now?"
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Ahh. Then, Master Finnian Tavish, my generous sponsor! I shall give you both."
The traveler clears his throat, stands up straight, and lifting his ribcage, he begins to sing
"The Keep of Bears once proud and strong"
He sings, then places his lips to the flute. In the next breath, a playful melody trills from the carven instrument, making people pause in their , and children to come springing out of the tents to listen.
When a few people have gathered, the flute stops and he sings again.
"The Keep of Bears once proud and strong
Ask themselves what went wrong?
Their gardens filled with flowers fair,
Looks nothing of a ferocious beast's lair."
Here, he inserts another playful melody.
Brev raises an eyebrow as the stranger begins to sing, but he says naught, listening in utter silence as he regards the man levelly, not even looking round to see whether anyone is bringing the poor fellow his promised breakfast.
A crowd is gathering, of course, music generally does that.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian lifts a brow as the traveler suddenly bursts into song, but soon he's quirking a smile for the lyrics, apparantly pleased with the lyrics. He cuts away another piece from the apple and pops it into his mouth, chewing on the tart fruit quietly while he watches the man.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Aye. Their Ceann was a Lady Bear named Ryanne who made her feminine touches be felt throughout the clan. I'm not sayin' if she did, and I'm not sayin' she didn't. But them pretty curtains and fluffy carpets must have cost more than a few chickens. Perhaps she took more tribute than she was entitled?"
The bard smiles with a shrug as he ends the little narrative with another burst of melody from the flute, and he sings again.
"No one remembers where they last saw her face
So the evil Kedhern took her place."
The children cry out happily, "Tet'nak killed Kedhern! Tet'nak killed Kedhern!"
The bard stops and looks at the children in surprise. "He did? Did he now? Well, do you know who became a Ceann after Kedhern?"
At one particular lyric of the bard's, a wry grin twists Brev's mouth, and he flicks a glance toward Saffron, then back to the singer. He does not comment aloud on either words or question, of course.
Over by the cookfire, one of the women is ladling out a bowl of mash. She hands it to a little girl and points the youngster sets off, slopping the contents a little as she cranes her head to try and see past the wall of backs and work out who all the fuss is about.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Tavish is still grinning, thoroughly entertained now as he chuckles. "I think I be liking this man." He says in aside towards Brev and Saffron. "A little good cheer not be bad for the people here, either." He seems to have gotten all of worth from the small crab apple, because after one last inspection he tosses it off towards a bit of scrub.
Saffron makes eye contact with Brev, and cannot resist snorting good naturedly, then calling out, "Some chickens are worth more than others!"
The bard plays a melody on his flute to let his audience react. Clearly, these people were in dire need of some light entertainment.
"Oh, the Bears fought and fought and fought. With claws, nails, teeth, and fist they fought each other! But when all the scuffle and the buffle was done, a brute named Brodie was named the Ceann of the Bear clan. They say where there should be a heart, there is a gaping hole. He used moles to discover secrets of his enemies and used them to his advantage" The bard narrates, making all the appropriate hand gestures. "Hmm. Mole, hole. I can probably use that.."
"There's no such word as a buffle!" A dour woman interrupts.
"Oh shut up, Mother, and listen to the story!"
The bard plays another melody to accompany the talking of the people before resuming his song.
Finnian's aside prods Brev into speech. "Cheer's all well and good. Wish he'd simply say what he wants and have done, though. Not all folk like riddles." Despite the relaxed attitude of his fellows, he remains wary. "Best hope he's not that mole he's prating of."
The girl with the bowl has reached the half-circle of onlookers by now, and demands impatiently, "Let me through!" When her high-pitched words go unheard beneath the flute's trill, she resorts to sidling round the edge of the group, halting eventually on the outermost fringes. Her clear voice rings through a gap in the music, "And then Garriag killed Brodie. I already know that."
[Cecilia(#23897)] "You be having somewhere pressing to be?" Finnian asks of Brev, smirking. "At least he no be a Hawk." He mutters a second time, obviously still disgruntled over the encounter between Carrac and the group that joined. The girl is given a doubting glance, but he doesn't bother pointing out that such news is unconfirmed. No need to dampen the spirits of a child.
[Saffron(#15443)]
The music stops and all goes silent after the outburst of the little girl. In the silence, the bard slowly lowers his hand, and slowly, he turns his head towards the girl, his eyes upon her.
"Is he now?"
The bard continues to look into the little girl's eyes. "Are you sure?"
He waits, letting the silence speak louder than his music.
Brev raises an eyebrow as he shoots Finnian a level glance, the wariness remaining in his gaze. "Do I have reason to be elsewhere?" His features are neutral, not a single twitch. "Best I hear what there is to hear." His gaze returns to the bard in the wake of the little girl's words, and he resumes his earlier watching of the man.
The little girl, perhaps scared by the stranger's sudden attention or perhaps just overcome by the dismal feeling of having 'got it wrong', bursts into tears, her hands shaking where they clasp the bowl. It is still about two-thirds full, though a little sticky round the edges.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian shakes his head at Brev. "I only be joking.. " He says quietly, trying to ease the tension. He moves over to the little girl, reaching to take the bowl from her if she'll give it up. "Be finishing your news, singer. That be the deal." Tavish says with a glance back to the stranger.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"There was a little boy just your age at the farm where Brodie and his men struck," the bard continues, with a far away tone to his voice when he looks at the crying child.
"A man who can order an attack on a farm where there is only women and children and the aged a man who can slays the elderly to steal the children for slavery. A man who can ignore the tears of a child. You should thank Garriag that his arrows found its mark."
The bard is smiling again. "My deepest apologies for boring you with my song. Since news is all you crave, here it is: The Bear Clan will name its next Ceann the one who finds the chain mail that Brodie wore. Someone apparently stole his body along with the chain mail. Hahaha!" He laughs, and bows.
The little girl does yield up the bowl to Finnian, using her free hands to knuckle at her eyes. "Hey, Aoife, shut up," a boy tells her disgustedly. "We'll never hear what happened if you keep blubbering." Naturally the bard's next words only set her crying harder. Stolen for slavery?
Brev listens to the bard's words without comment, though his features darken - though surely that is only natural on hearing of such dastardly deeds? When all is ended he nods to Finnian and picks up his firewood, watching in silence as folk drift back to their tasks. Once he is sure that other eyes and ears are surveying this self-proclaimed newscrier, he will slip away.
Enclosed by stone walls twice the height of men is the fortified town of Forthunn -- home to the largest number of Stag Clansmen in Dunland. A broad marketplace stands in the middle of the town, just inside the gates, and nearly every day dozens of farmers arrive to sell their produce and exchange the latest news. Surrounding the market are the more permanent buildings -- most of them made of wooden planking, some with mortared cobblestones, all with roofs of thatch -- that house various shops, taverns, homes, and storage sheds.
During the day, the market is full of Stag men and women going about their business sounds of livestock can be heard and the occasional cart, drawn by ox or pony, rumbles across the cobblestone paving. At night, sounds of merriment can often be heard from the local tavern, though much of the town lies in silence and is lit only by furtive candlelight or the brighter flame of torches near the town and keep gates.
Obvious exits:
Wooden Door leads to Staggering Hunter Alehouse <
Northwest leads to Dunland <
East leads to Northlands - Dunland <
Town Gate leads to Rickety Bridge to Forthunn - Dunland <
Keep Gate leads to Entrance Hall -- Stag Keep <
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Sun Dec 07 14:20:36 2008
IC weather is: Wind: fresh - Clouds: moderate
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Before Dawn
IC date is: Mersday, Day 17 of August in the year 3045.
===============================================================================
A fresh westerly wind whistles through the tent city that sprung has outside the walled town of Forthunn, picking up debris and tugging at awnings a stark reminder that while it is summer now, soon it will be autumn, and after that ... Dawn is here, and with it heads emerge from their shelters as those made homeless by the destruction of Kierkgard begin their daily routine.
Brev was clearly up before the dawn, for now he emerges from the greyness of the surrounding fields, pacing carefully back toward the knot of tents, tucking something into his belt as he goes. Alas, today he returns empty-handed - unless one counts the bundle of firewood tucked under one arm. Even this is spindly.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian is just waking, snooping around for a bit of early breakfast to enjoy before the greater population wakes. He spots a crabapple that doesn't look too wormy and settles on that, drawing his knife and beginning to slice a bite free, the juice dribbling down over his hand.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Someone approaches!"
A lookout perched on a nice comfortable branch on a sturdy tree announces.
"That's Brev.. We can see him from here." Saffron crawls out of the tent and stretches her limbs.
"No no. Someone else approaches. He comes alone, though." He continues to gaze out into the distance.
Brev continues at a steady pace, pausing by the overhanging branch to state sourly to whoever's listening, "Snares were empty. I'll go out with the sling later, maybe ..." He glances up toward the lookout, and breaks off with a "huh?" The firewood is unceremoniously dumped at his feet, and his hand slides towards his knife-hilt. Yes, he's jumpy these days.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian walks a few steps over to where Saffron is climbing out of her tent, crunching on the bite of apple as he tries to spot the approaching figure. "There be people always coming.." He says quietly, then slices a second piece from the apple and offers it to the woman.
[Saffron(#15443)]
Sharing has become a common occurrence within the refugees, so the Chicken Woman takes the offered slice with a nod of appreciation.
When Brev announces the snares were empty, Saffron nods without surprise. "It is fine, Brev. There's still plenty of salted boar meat that can go into the mash. We won't be starving."
The lookout squints into the distance. "He looks to be unarmed and he looks to be hungry more than dangerous. But..it don't hurt to be cautious."
"Not now, maybe," Brev responds to Saffron without taking his eyes off the distant blur of a figure. "But if we stay here... Ach. Said I'd go out, didn't I."
Satisfied that the new arrival will not reach them in the next few moments, he risks a quick glance round, nodding at Finian as his gaze falls on him, and queries drily, "Anyone here expecting company?" His hand remains on his knife.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian only shakes his head in answer to Brev's question and carefully slices another piece of apple away around a bit of rot. He offers the piece to the man, his gaze going back to Saffron. "Another to be joining our cause, maybe?"
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Aye.. I'm expectin a big giant wagon loaded with honey cake with cheese as wheels pulled by two fat sows beggin' to be made into bacon." A warbly man answers Brev's question. Of course, he does not appear to be in any danger of starvation as he walks towards the outskirts of the tent city, most likely to relieve himself from the way he begins to unlace his trousers.
A chorus of disgusted, "Down wind! Go farther downwind!" can be heard in his wake.
Saffron smiles somewhat nervously as Brev hand remains on the knife. "Well, if he does want to join, he'd better make his intentions plain at once. Otherwise, he may be in danger of being eaten by the hungry folks here." She jokes, but she too takes a cautious stand.
The stranger approaches the camp at a comfortable pace, the blurry, sliver of a figure taking shape into that of a man. He waves to the people who stand to watch him. "I mean no harm. I'm just a traveler looking for somethin' to eat in exchange for some news."
Brev takes the piece of apple with his free hand, nodding his thanks to Finnian as he chews. The warbling fellow's attempt at humour is met with a snort, and he pushes his hair away from his eyes that he may see the newcomer better.
"There's precious little to eat round here. What we have, we share between all those who contribute. Did you have something to contribute?" His tone is not exactly hostile, but definitely guarded, and his hand remains where it was. "Anyone know where Carac is," he hisses back to his companions, clearly uncomfortable in the role of spokesperson here.
[Cecilia(#23897)] "At least he not be another Hawk.." Finnian murmurs after the stranger speaks. He looks him over, perhaps as if assessing whether he's a threat. "News? What sort of news? I be willing to give up my breakfast to hear a few things." Tavish offers, lifting his shoulders in a shrug for Brev's inquiry.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Well, I ain't got much. Wild berries don't exactly fill the stomach and that's all I had since I left Creatrach Keep," answers the traveler.
He unslings a worn knapsack that he had flung over his shoulder and reaches inside with one arm.
"Perhaps I can sing a song or two, eh?" and pulls out what looks to be a flute carved from the tusk of some animal. "Surely some kind-hearted soul will think it good enough to earn me a bowl of grub."
Upon hearing Finnian's offer the fellow brightens into a smile. "Ah! Kiern bless ye!"
Brev sighs at Finnian's words, a sound suspiciously like relief. At the stranger's mention of Creatrach the muscle in his cheek twitches, though it is quickly masked by speech. "Wild berries could be added to the pot, perhaps ..." He trails off, giving Saffron an uncertain look, then takes a step back.
"You talk to him, then," he murmurs to Finian. "I'll watch." True to his word, he does not address the newcomer again.
[Cecilia(#23897)] "Last I saw of Creatrach, Brodie's guards be driving their fists into my empty stomach and tellin me to move on. The name is Finn. Finnian Tavish." He extends a hand to the newcomer, his skin still sticky from apple juices. "Songs be good, but news first. What filth do them Bears be up to now?"
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Ahh. Then, Master Finnian Tavish, my generous sponsor! I shall give you both."
The traveler clears his throat, stands up straight, and lifting his ribcage, he begins to sing
"The Keep of Bears once proud and strong"
He sings, then places his lips to the flute. In the next breath, a playful melody trills from the carven instrument, making people pause in their , and children to come springing out of the tents to listen.
When a few people have gathered, the flute stops and he sings again.
"The Keep of Bears once proud and strong
Ask themselves what went wrong?
Their gardens filled with flowers fair,
Looks nothing of a ferocious beast's lair."
Here, he inserts another playful melody.
Brev raises an eyebrow as the stranger begins to sing, but he says naught, listening in utter silence as he regards the man levelly, not even looking round to see whether anyone is bringing the poor fellow his promised breakfast.
A crowd is gathering, of course, music generally does that.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian lifts a brow as the traveler suddenly bursts into song, but soon he's quirking a smile for the lyrics, apparantly pleased with the lyrics. He cuts away another piece from the apple and pops it into his mouth, chewing on the tart fruit quietly while he watches the man.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"Aye. Their Ceann was a Lady Bear named Ryanne who made her feminine touches be felt throughout the clan. I'm not sayin' if she did, and I'm not sayin' she didn't. But them pretty curtains and fluffy carpets must have cost more than a few chickens. Perhaps she took more tribute than she was entitled?"
The bard smiles with a shrug as he ends the little narrative with another burst of melody from the flute, and he sings again.
"No one remembers where they last saw her face
So the evil Kedhern took her place."
The children cry out happily, "Tet'nak killed Kedhern! Tet'nak killed Kedhern!"
The bard stops and looks at the children in surprise. "He did? Did he now? Well, do you know who became a Ceann after Kedhern?"
At one particular lyric of the bard's, a wry grin twists Brev's mouth, and he flicks a glance toward Saffron, then back to the singer. He does not comment aloud on either words or question, of course.
Over by the cookfire, one of the women is ladling out a bowl of mash. She hands it to a little girl and points the youngster sets off, slopping the contents a little as she cranes her head to try and see past the wall of backs and work out who all the fuss is about.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Tavish is still grinning, thoroughly entertained now as he chuckles. "I think I be liking this man." He says in aside towards Brev and Saffron. "A little good cheer not be bad for the people here, either." He seems to have gotten all of worth from the small crab apple, because after one last inspection he tosses it off towards a bit of scrub.
Saffron makes eye contact with Brev, and cannot resist snorting good naturedly, then calling out, "Some chickens are worth more than others!"
The bard plays a melody on his flute to let his audience react. Clearly, these people were in dire need of some light entertainment.
"Oh, the Bears fought and fought and fought. With claws, nails, teeth, and fist they fought each other! But when all the scuffle and the buffle was done, a brute named Brodie was named the Ceann of the Bear clan. They say where there should be a heart, there is a gaping hole. He used moles to discover secrets of his enemies and used them to his advantage" The bard narrates, making all the appropriate hand gestures. "Hmm. Mole, hole. I can probably use that.."
"There's no such word as a buffle!" A dour woman interrupts.
"Oh shut up, Mother, and listen to the story!"
The bard plays another melody to accompany the talking of the people before resuming his song.
Finnian's aside prods Brev into speech. "Cheer's all well and good. Wish he'd simply say what he wants and have done, though. Not all folk like riddles." Despite the relaxed attitude of his fellows, he remains wary. "Best hope he's not that mole he's prating of."
The girl with the bowl has reached the half-circle of onlookers by now, and demands impatiently, "Let me through!" When her high-pitched words go unheard beneath the flute's trill, she resorts to sidling round the edge of the group, halting eventually on the outermost fringes. Her clear voice rings through a gap in the music, "And then Garriag killed Brodie. I already know that."
[Cecilia(#23897)] "You be having somewhere pressing to be?" Finnian asks of Brev, smirking. "At least he no be a Hawk." He mutters a second time, obviously still disgruntled over the encounter between Carrac and the group that joined. The girl is given a doubting glance, but he doesn't bother pointing out that such news is unconfirmed. No need to dampen the spirits of a child.
[Saffron(#15443)]
The music stops and all goes silent after the outburst of the little girl. In the silence, the bard slowly lowers his hand, and slowly, he turns his head towards the girl, his eyes upon her.
"Is he now?"
The bard continues to look into the little girl's eyes. "Are you sure?"
He waits, letting the silence speak louder than his music.
Brev raises an eyebrow as he shoots Finnian a level glance, the wariness remaining in his gaze. "Do I have reason to be elsewhere?" His features are neutral, not a single twitch. "Best I hear what there is to hear." His gaze returns to the bard in the wake of the little girl's words, and he resumes his earlier watching of the man.
The little girl, perhaps scared by the stranger's sudden attention or perhaps just overcome by the dismal feeling of having 'got it wrong', bursts into tears, her hands shaking where they clasp the bowl. It is still about two-thirds full, though a little sticky round the edges.
[Cecilia(#23897)] Finnian shakes his head at Brev. "I only be joking.. " He says quietly, trying to ease the tension. He moves over to the little girl, reaching to take the bowl from her if she'll give it up. "Be finishing your news, singer. That be the deal." Tavish says with a glance back to the stranger.
[Saffron(#15443)]
"There was a little boy just your age at the farm where Brodie and his men struck," the bard continues, with a far away tone to his voice when he looks at the crying child.
"A man who can order an attack on a farm where there is only women and children and the aged a man who can slays the elderly to steal the children for slavery. A man who can ignore the tears of a child. You should thank Garriag that his arrows found its mark."
The bard is smiling again. "My deepest apologies for boring you with my song. Since news is all you crave, here it is: The Bear Clan will name its next Ceann the one who finds the chain mail that Brodie wore. Someone apparently stole his body along with the chain mail. Hahaha!" He laughs, and bows.
The little girl does yield up the bowl to Finnian, using her free hands to knuckle at her eyes. "Hey, Aoife, shut up," a boy tells her disgustedly. "We'll never hear what happened if you keep blubbering." Naturally the bard's next words only set her crying harder. Stolen for slavery?
Brev listens to the bard's words without comment, though his features darken - though surely that is only natural on hearing of such dastardly deeds? When all is ended he nods to Finnian and picks up his firewood, watching in silence as folk drift back to their tasks. Once he is sure that other eyes and ears are surveying this self-proclaimed newscrier, he will slip away.
Players: Brev, Finnian, Saffron
Located in: Dunlending
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