Elendor
Crafty work
Esgaroth's Craft Hall is the scene for some light shopping for Brunni, Audrey, and no fewer than two Elven visitors. Rhemlyn and Ellinor play host. Alaric of the Merchant's Guild, however, has other darker intentions ...
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Esgaroth: Craft Guild
Game Date: February 3053
IC Time: Daytime
Description: Crafts Guild
The main hall of the Crafts Guild is the center of activity for Laketown's artisians, filled constantly with people exchanging stories or showcasing some of their finer pieces. A great variety of clothes and hues strike the eye, painting the room with some of the more colorful fashions of the town. Occassionally the crests of the noble Houses poke out from the vests and cloaks.
The room is cavernous, yet the constant assortment of crafts and tables seems to consume the extra space, giving it a comfortable, vibrant feeling. Long, hardwood beams run in parallel arches along the length of the roof, focusing upon a partitioned coat-of-arms on the back wall which bears the insignia of all four Houses as well as the standard of Esgaroth. A pair of ornate oak doors lie opposite each other on the side walls, leading to a collection of small offices belonging to the Guildmaster and other prominent members. The floor space is partitioned along the walls by tables, bearing the work of a variety of crafts, and beyond that large hearths provide warm light and crackling flames. At the center of the room rests a large rectangular table, each of its legs carved to include elements of a House's standard. A dark gray bell waits at the table's midpoint to commence formal meetings.
Obvious exits:
Out
[Crafts Guild(#12140)->Brev]
Rhemlyn of the Craftsmen's Guild looks up and offers you a friendly wave.
=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Wed Jun 08 15:10:37 2011 MST
Dale-Lands Time:
Hevensday, midday on a cloudy winter's day, February 16 of 3053
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=
The midday sun streams down through the long windows of the Crafts hall, filling the room with a riot of colour and warmth. The golden rays glint off copper and silver, brighten the many-hued bolts of fabric and wake dancing flames from the tall vases of coloured glass. The place is fairly busy today, the clouded skies and threat of sleet or snow having driven potential customers in from activities outdoors. The sounds of dickering over prices and questions regarding wares merge into a single hum of background noise.
Amongst the shoppers moves a tall man in a grey cloak, his darker skin-tones contrasting with the majority of fair and ruddy faces. The fellow known as Brunni threads his way carefully between tables as though looking for something even though he hasn't moved to so much as touch an item, one or two folk eye him suspiciously. He hardly looks the richest of men.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
And indeed his arrival draws the eye of at least one Guildsman a tall, thin, elderly fellow with bright eyes a wispy greay beard. Rhemlyn, Master of the Craftsman's Guild watches Brunni for a long moment, ere melting from the mill of people he steps forth.
"Good day, good sir," says he. "May we help you?"
[Audrey(#23179)] Amidst the gawkers and townspeople come to buy their wares a small space appears moving slowly through the throng. Two tall men in shining silver mail and blue tabards with silver swans marching up the sleeves and two crossed silver swords across their breasts flank a rather short girl with silver-blonde hair. She stops here to examine a finely-wrought bracelet and there to lift a gold ring to better view its intricacies. Clearly she is a lady of some stature to be handling the items so casually indeed, she is Lady Audrey of House Arathmor.
Brev's gaze fixes on the old man his own greeting is a jerked nod. "Good day to be somewhere other than outdoors, eh?" is his reply. "And I was just looking. Bit of personal shopping and all that. Looking for something small ..." His voice trails off as the seeming gap in the crowd parts just long enough for him to see a delicate hand holding up a gold ring. "Not sure I can afford gold, though." Is that a brush-off? Noblewomen - or noble girls - are, after all, more likely customers.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Rhemlyn's bright eyes are kindly as they look Brev up and down during the foreigner's inspection of the young Arathmor lady, and he chuckles ere he replies: "Not all of our customers can, though happily, not all that is worth buying is golden, sir. May I ask, what manner of item are you searching for?"
And as the crowd parts yet further following the glare of Audrey's guards, a second Guildsman steps forth to greet her a bow of ceremony given to this diminutive yet clearly wealthy guest. "Hail, my lady," says the man, younger than Rhemlyn yet calm and cool in his manner. "Do you seek a new addition to your House's treasury?"
[Amruncrist(#14425)] The vast space which houses the Crafter's Guild is daily visited by every manner of creature, not least of which is Rhuidain Amruncrist, whose luxuriant garments declare that his other features - which name him of the first born - do not belong to one who dwells so near as the halls of King Thranduil. He stops, politely, to inspect a silver bowl after being haled by a particularly bold craftsman, "Hail, master elf... finest ye've seen since the elvenkings of old made in the old halls of Gondolin, hmm?" and whether his history is as well informed as he deems it, Rhuidain stops for his boldness, a pleasant smile writ on his face as he deigns to inspect the bowl. Truly, it shines brightly as a mirror might, but is otherwise poorly adorned - wrought from some mold that was designed a long time before the artisan was born. He replaces the bowl, and is urged to inspect another.
Audrey halts before the Guildsman who has addressed her with such a sure demeanor. Long practiced in the arts of keeping a still face, and longer yet in a still tongue, the girl glances up and to her left at one of the guards. The guard raises a hand and moves to take half a step forward, but with a shake of her head he hesitates and lowers the hand back to his side, though it rests nearer his sword hilt than it did before.
"I am surveying the city's works of silver and gold this day, good sir," the lady of Arathmor responds with a lilting voice. "Have you anything bearing sapphires to show me, perchance?"
[Gildin(#11420)] More of the rustic kind is the elf who enters right behind Amruncrist, clearly one of king Thranduil's subjects who is visiting the town. And while the other elf is quickly hailed by the crafters and tradesmen, this one seems to regular a sight to attract any attention. And so it happens that Gildin simply strolls through the various stands of the guild, looking at a fishing net over here and a set knives over there.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] Laying his hand on a crudely crafted amulet of amethyst, Rhuiwain continues to patronize the elder merchant, whose eyes brighten at the prospect of a sale. "This is a crude stone, sir," his rich baritone surmises. "Ill fitted to your table of such fine wares." The merchant looks baffled by the words, so sing-song even when spoken in the common tongue, his eyes crossing as he attempts to discern whether this is an insult or a complement.
"Something small," Brev repeats, and shrugs. "Pendant, bracelet ... Not wood. There's a lot of wood in our house, given I'm a carpenter by trade. Fair hand at whittling when I need to be."
At the name of 'elf' spoken behind him his shoulders stiffen, but he manages, "Perhaps I should look at the silver? I've no wish to distract you from others with more pressing need ..." A swift gesture of the hand indicates the immaculately garbed Audrey.
Rhuiwain's words ring out, and he stops. "Then again, never hurts to look." He moves up to the table where the girl and her guards had halted, attempting to peer past the swords to see what else might have caught her eye.
[Barlin(#26904)]
In the entrance to the Crafts Guild, a figure draped in the most impressive black appears dark as night, the robes billow from his form, both substancial and silky. Tall, and yet thin as a rake, his nose is long and sharp it curves out beakily from a sickly face of gaunt cheekbones. His eyes are like black gems, gleaming in the light. Glimmering upon his spindly fingers are silver rings, adorned with the deepest of emeralds chains of the same precious metal dangle around his neck.
Moving with all the eery grace of a creeping spider, he advances, weaving through the crowd. Some glance at him with relative unease, and others with evident hatred. But he seems to be indifferent to any adverse disposition towards him, his face the picture of casualness. Arriving at a dainty stall of candlesticks, his beady eyes dart over to Audrey. He sifts through the wares, never moving out of hearing range of her.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Rhemlyn grins then at Brev's words, and the Guildmaster's brow arches as he counters: "Ah, but you need not have fine jewels to make a fine brooch, sir, nor silver fillets to capture the sparkle of the sun. Why, our glassblowers and workers of filigree may have just the thing for you, if your purse does not bulge so greatly as that of others?" Sparing a glance to the Mithlondrim as the ancient Elf draws near Audrey, he seems nonetheless stipped wrapt in the company of the foreigner.
Meanwhile, the Guildsman attending to the young Arathmor bows his head once more, and smiles widely. "Sapphires, m'lady? Why, none but the finest. Even the hoard of Smaug the Golden could boast no better than we have on offer. Please, step this way..." he offers, though even as he turns to move away, he pauses at the approach of Amruncrist.
"Fare thee well, sir?" the man asks of the Firstborn.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] "Thank you kindly, master elf," the old merchant decides to take the words as a complement, whether or not that was their true intent. "It was an heirstone to a noble house, they say. Long ago. Or at least that's what the man who sold it to me said. He likely lied to up the price, but there's no fooling the likes of Dagstan, aye. I talked him down to half his asking price, that I did."
Patiently, the azure clad elf allows the story to be told, though his expression is rigid enough that it is not plain whether he enjoys the tale or not. When it is told, he speaks again, his words as mellifluous as a bard, "A good tale, well told, master Dagstan," he names him, releasing the amulet. "Fit for a princess of your folk, no doubt." At this his eyes turn to regard the young woman who has made her entrance, gracing her with a pleasant, if non-comittal smile and the briefest nod of the head, ever the courteous stranger.
Audrey glances up at the nearing elf as the Guildsman addressing her averts his attentions, a slight frown teasing her lips and creasing her brow. "Perhaps another day," she responds, her voice cool yet courteous, and she turns to make her way toward another merchant's stall, the crowd once more parting to allow her and her guards ample space to move.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] As Rhemlyn acknowledges his presence, Amruncrist is not to be outdone in fair words, "I would be loathe to say my time in this place were the pleasantest I have ever spent, but hardly would I say it were the worst. Peace, atan. I hear there is some trouble in your lands, and ever is my sword arm raised to defend those who travel this middle earth." His grey eyes are drawn to the passing Audrey, though they return with practiced deflection to the man who previously greeted him.
The shafts of sunlight from the open windows lighten even Brev's dark hair as he moves across the hall. He reaches the table the Arathmor girl had been inspecting just as Audrey herself decides to move on - leaving him close to that dark, crowlike man who had been watching. That he doesn't seem bothered about, though rather he scowls and mutters, "Damn. Figured a woman would know best what other women are after." Has he no sense of propriety?
Rhemlyn at least is still there at his side. "Glass is ... well, breakable," he answers the man absently. "Silver might survive rougher treatment, eh?"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"That it might," agrees Rhemlyn to Brev, and his eyes twinkle. "Though do not sell glass short, my man. It has a value all of its own, and is fond of the sun's light. Indeed, I believe Ellinor, our glassblower, is at hand today. Shall I fetch her? That woman's advice might not be so far out of reach as you suspect..."
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Come here all alone, have we?" A soft voice utters in Audrey's ear. The bird-like man appears by her side, peering down at her with those keen eyes, "... Would your father so approve, young Audrey?"
[Isobel(#23796)] Closer than expected, perhaps, because just then a yellow-haired woman passes by not far from the conversing men and upon hearing her name stops and turns. A few quick steps bring her back to them, skirts swirling, and then she peers between Rhemlyn and Brev curiously. "Have you need of me, master Rhemlyn?" She looks to be somewhere in her thirties with a beauty of face which is still present yet clearly beginning to pass.
Perceiving, perhaps, the way of it, the woman smiles coyly up at Brev, green eyes sparkling. "I'm Ellinor Taurdain may I be of service to you?"
At Rhemlyn's suggestion, Brev's pensive expression lightens a little. "Of course," he agrees gravely. Then, corners of his mouth twitching, he adds, "She wouldn't happen to be your wife, would she? Or your daughter?"
That question is broken off short as the newcomer approaches. One brow arcs up. "I'm looking for something small, pendant or necklace. The Master here believes glass is best suited to my budget. However, since it isn't /me/ who'd be doin g the wearing ..." There is a dry, almost mocking note to his singsong Common at that last.
[Audrey(#23179)] As Audrey drifts away from the first Guildsman's table, the men at her side--one as blonde as the girl herself, though a fair bit taller, and the other with hair black as coal yet shorter and stout--cast their gazes dutifully about the Hall. Brightly-garbed and glittering they may be, but they leave little doubt as to their purpose here today: the young Lady's safety.
At the sound of a quiet voice in her ear, Audrey stops in mid-step and jerks slightly to the side, narrowly managing to avoid jostling the tall guard beside her. Her eyes dart to the right, then back forward again as she releases a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.
"He knows I am here," is all Audrey says, "and I have these two to guard me. Doubtless they should make even the most daring of thieves think twice and again before approaching me."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
As Ellinor and Brev greet one another, Master Rhemlyn scans the room, and his gaze flits to the lingering Mithlondhrim there to rest with interest. Bowing his head to excuse himself from the conversation, he moves to join Amruncrist, and smiles to say: "Hail, Master Quendi, as I beleive you call yourselves? Welcome to our fair Guildhall. May I aid you with anything?"
[Amruncrist(#14425)] The merchant behind him attempts to draw Amruncrist attention again, but having failed that, he turns to other customers, shouting out the fineness of his wares and the fairness of his prices.
Placing a hand on the hilt of a finely crafted sword, the elf hears tell of the dangers lurking about Esgaroth, keeping to himself whether he thinks the descriptions might be exaggerated. "It is well that I have come, though long has been my journey," he cuts the man off mysteriously, beginning to move away before Rhemly accosts him. "We call ourselves many things," he asserts, "but Quendi, happily is among these. Hail to you, sir," he matches his greeting. "I come for naught but news, master. I have heard tell and tell of wild things roaming, of armies gathering. But such is always the way in this passing world. What news have you, if it is for a fair price you will be parted from it?"
[Barlin(#26904)]
" How very re-assuring..." The tall man chimes softly, eyeing the two men with something of a disdain, "... I am sure they could handle even the most savage of fiends. Still, it is fortunate that I have business here myself. Some light purchasing is required. I hope, I do not press my company upon you too forcefully?"
Not bothering to wait for an answer, he slips into step beside her. His wealth of silver chains clink as he moves.
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
"Alas," replies Rhemlyn, shaking his head sadly, "I am no peddler of gossip or news my wont is for the crafting of such things as give out townsfolk pleasure. Though, if it news you seek, I have oft heard of a man named Scampre, who can be found loitering in the Fisher's Wharf. Perhaps you would have luck there."
[Isobel(#23796)] Ellinor nods, tapping her chin. "Glass is very useful in that respect because it can be varied greatly and even though an item may cost little, it will look expensive. And that," she adds with a laugh, "is what's important, isn't it?"
She lays a light hand on Brev's arm, with the other indicating a shop a few stalls down. "If you'd come with me to my stall I'll show you a few wares.. perhaps something will be to your liking?" That said she lets her fingers trail down the man's arm whilst stepping away and begins to walk.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] "Be well, master, I thank you for your kind instruction," Amruncrist bows his head politely, before moving in the direction indicated.
[Audrey(#23179)] Even as the darkly attired man falls into step beside her, Audrey draws herself up as much as she can short of rising onto her toes she rolls her shoulders back and down to lift her chest, tilts her chin upward just a touch, yet still she stands a good foot shorter than him.
"I would be pleased to accompany you on your .. errands, Master Alaric," the young Lady offers, her tone just sort of gracious. "But I must implore you to aid me in my search," she adds as she rests her hand lightly in the crook of his elbow.
Once again Brev stiffens as the lilting Elven voice comes from somewhere behind him. He does not turn his head, but it is noticeable by his stillness that he is listening for Rhemlyn's response. Was it perhaps the mention of 'news' that interested him so?
Ellinor's chatter brings him abruptly back to the present. His answer to the initial question is an abrupt, "No." Then, by way of clarification. "Don't want her to look like a damn lady. Want her to look like the fighter she is."
He completely ignores the hand on his arm - well, given he's wearing leather, perhaps he could claim he doesn't feel it. Is it mere chance that the rolling tread of his footfalls happens to jerk his arm free? He certainly doesn't seem to be objecting. "Said I'd take a look. Not promising to buy anything," he remarks, corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Excellent." The black-clothed financier says smugly, his lip curling into a slight sneer. Striding forward with the young Arathmor in tow, he approaches the corner of the hall, where a series of stalls and shelves amount to a make-shift shop carved goods, such as decorative ornaments, line the platforms, whilst cupboards and drawer pieces stand freshly whitted in the space bewteen them. Dark woods, and watered reds, and pale silvers can all be seen.
" Mr Hurley..." The soft voice calls, travelling through the murmur of the crowd with unusual ease.
The man behind the stall looks up, and he immediately pales, his lips tightening. " Ah. Mr Alaric. You are after your money, sir?"
" I am." The bird-like man answers, eyeing him unblinkingly. " I assume you have it?"
The man gives a hesistant nod. " Just wait there, sir..." And then scurries off to muster together a hasty collection of silver and bronze pieces.
[Isobel(#23796)] Pausing in front of her stall, Ellinor gazes at the wares on display with a thoughtful frown. "A fighter.." she mumbles to herself, tapping her chin. "I confess, that request has me puzzled.."
Even as she says so, she scoops up two items from different parts of the table. "Can you tell me which of these would be most along the lines of what you're thinking, so I know what to look for?"
In her left hand is a flat piece of clear glass, inlaid with vividly red stripes. It most resembles a stylized claw, like one that could be found on one of the big cats, and there is a hole in the base that one can thread a leather thong or chain through.
In her right hand is a long slim glass pendant, perhaps the length of an index finger and significantly larger than the other one. This, too, is flat and clear, and a dragon motif has been etched into it, and then filled in with black colour.
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
Left alone as Amruncrist departs, Rhemlyn's eyes sweep the room anew, and they narrow as they watch the exchange betwee Alaric and the man known as Hurley. Sidling close, the Guildmaster cocks an ear to the proceedings, but does not intervene as yet.
"Why?" Brev demands of the glassblower, the twitching at the corners of his mouth threatening to become a smirk. "Never had to use a dagger on someone causing you trouble?" The question is delivered quite deadpan, it's hard to tell if he's mocking.
The first item, the striped 'claw', is dismissed. "She already has a bone round her neck," he mutters. The other is peered at more closely. "Dragons, hmm? Suppose it's local, at least." He reaches out a hand as though to hold it. "Trust me not to break it?" he enquires lightly.
The financier's words may or may not have carried that far at any rate he shows no signs of interest in them.
[Barlin(#26904)]
Hurley rustles together what he can, scuttling back to the tall Arathmor nervously. Pouring a motley collection of coins onto the desk before him, he glances up at the financier, looking for approval. Alaric's beady eyes glance over the coins, calculating quickly.
" And the other two silvers, Hurley."
" The other two, sir? I... I don't have them... Not yet... Come back later, I'll have sold some more.... Busy day, an' all that..."
" I'm afraid I don't do delays. Bad for business." The bird-like man's eyes gleam as he gazes coolly at the woodworker, who's face is swiftly turning a beetroot purple. " Shall I have to begin appropriation procedures?"
" N... No, sir..." The man says meagerly, reaching into his pocket and drawing out another pair of silver coins, "... These were for m'food, sir... I..." He gives a sigh, before tossing them onto the pile.
Alaric says nothing, simply drawing a dark pouch from the folds of his robes and beginning to scoop the coins into it with a claw-like hand.
[Isobel(#23796)] Ellinor smiles back, an edge in it suddenly. "You know, I've never had to use a dagger. The blowpipe will usually suffice. Once someone's been hit with a metal rod which is hot enough to melt flesh in one end.." she shrugs. "They tend not to trouble me again. Can't imagine why."
Claw disregarded, she puts it back again and hands the other one over without prompting. "Certainly. If you break it.. well, I just told you a ghastly story, didn't I?" Ellinor winks, and then begins toying with a lock of her hair as she waits.
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
Rhemlyn's brow furrows deeply as he listens to Alaric and hurley, and with an audbile clearing of his throat he steps forward in challenge. "Is there a proble, Master Alaric? Just what is the meaning of accosting my guildsmen in their own hall?"
Brev grins as he accepts the pendant. "I'm hardly a stranger to rods hot enough to sear flesh myself," he says quite mildly. "Though I imagine our intent is different." He lifts the glass and turns it this way and that so that the etched dragon catches the light, casting odd wavering shadows across the hall. "So," he continues, lowering the item abruptly, "how much were you after for it? And," he eyes the lock-twining finger for a long moment, "is that hair bothering you? If you've an itching head, I could get hold of a few herbs ..." Is he truly immune to Ellinor's charm, or just a good actor?
Only a flicker in his eyes betrays that he's heard something of the exchange between guildmaster and financier going on across the room.
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Debt, Mister Rhemlyn, debt." Alaric chimes softly, considering the man for a moment as he attaches the meagre pouch of money to his belt, before allowing his robes to shift over it, obscuring it from view, "... Burely owes me a certain sum every week, as was agreed when I invested in his..." He glances at the wood carvingss contemptuously, "... /Business/. Such is the nature of things."
His eyes drift back to the woodworker. " Same time next week, Burley. Hopefully, you will be more profitable. Somebody must be interested in useless guff, after all."
[Isobel(#23796)] Ellinor chuckles. "Then you should understand the implications of being hit by one.. That one? One silver penny, and ten copper pennies for a leather thong, or fifty copper pennies for a simpler silver chain if you haven't got anything to hang it from."
The straightforward question Ellinor takes in stride and with good humor, though she does cease the twining. "Good sir," she cries, turning her palms up in an explanatory gesture, "I'm an artisan. If my hands are still for too long they grow restless, as birds." Pausing, she tilts her head down slightly and looks up at Brev from under long eyelashes. "They are always looking for.. something.. to do."
Then she smiles innocently. "But if it offends you then I shall endeavour to stop for the moment."
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
his kindly eyes harden then, and Rhemlyn folds his arms as he addresses the Senior of the Merchants Guild. "It will not ne the same time next week at all, Alaric, and I pray you keep such business away from my halls for good. This is a place of true business, and true trade, not the preying upon the desperation of others which occurs next door behind your brass doors."
A concerned look enteres his gaze then as it flits to the recently squeezed fellow. "Burley," says he, "if you were in hardship, why did you not come to me?"
[Barlin(#26904)]
" I am afraid that is not possible..." The crow-like man says curtly, his eyes drifting back to the Guildmaster and filling with black ice, "... This man owes me money, that I have a legal right to. If he does not pay me it, I shall return with the Captain of the Guard in tow and have his assets appropriated. And as for why he did not come to you..." He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for the woodworker himself to explain.
Burley, for his part, is now looking at his feet. " Well, sir..." He mumbles, glancing up and then down again, "... I... I didn't want you to think I was struggling, or anythin'. You know, business hasn't been great, and those Arathmor shippers have put prices up on the wood, and my new babe has cost us a fortune..." He runs a hand across his forehead, which is now sparkling with sweaty beads, "... Didn't want to lose my place in the hall, sir. So, I... I got a loan from Mister Alaric here..."
Alaric nods, satsified. " I could show you the contract, if you like. All very legitimate. Now, if you would excuse me, I have work to do. Unless, you are in need of some coin, Mister Rhemlyn?"
Brev pulls one side of his mouth back in a half-smile. "A silver penny sounds fair to me," he agrees, then amends, watching carefully to see how the glassblower will take it, "for pendant and silver chain both." He meets that long-lashed gaze squarely and tells the woman, his mouth twitching anew, "Oh, it doesn't offend me. Not my hair you're tying in knots. Maybe you should take up carving - though yon poor wretch seems to be having little enough joy from it." Wryly he indicates the corner from which raised voices are coming with a jerk of his chin. The playful quality to his gaze is replaced by sombreness, though he tries to hide it by adding, "I won't offer to teach you the dagger, Mistress, you need stillness for that."
[Isobel(#23796)] "You would send me to the brink of ruin, sir?" Ellinor says, a displeased pout appearing. "I could throw in the leather thong for free, I suppose, or the chain for thirty.. but that will really be like cutting my own throat!"
She looks over to the scene playing out, shaking her head and sighing. "Ah, those Arathmors.." Ellinor says, a sour note creeping into her voice. "Coming in here and disturbing our honest business. For shame, says I!"
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
And Rhemlyn would certainly seem to agree, for his features are turned now into a mask of cool anger, ere he nods to Alaric. "Aye, do that. Bring your contract, so I might inspect it. I shall be paying for Burley's debt from the Guild coffers, and you need not darken these doors again in the search for repayment. You Merchants are the bane of true craftsmen, and are not welcome here. Is that understood?"
The elderly man draws himself up. "If you have any complaints, you may take them up with House Taurdain."
Perhaps the disruption across the room (which, indeed, many workers and patrons are watching surreptitiously by now) has dulled Brev's appetite for bargaining. At the glassblower's suggestion he simply nods. "One silver and thirty then. Done." He keeps the pendant in his hand, whilst the other slips into some concealed pocket in the leather jerkin, bringing out a handful of coin.
"Figure that's what I'll have coming if I don't keep up my guild fees," he says carelessly as he turns his head to glance at the face-off. "Though I rather think they'd break my fingers first-" At that thought he frowns. "Where's he live? he murmurs softly. "Might not be a bad idea to have someone intimidating walk him home."
[Barlin(#26904)]
" I have better things to do with my time than scurry before you, /Taurdain/..." The financier sneers, wrinkling his nose haughtily, "... If you want to inspect the contract, you shall have to visit my offices on a time when you can be accomodated. I am sure you will find them with ease they're the ones that you couldn't afford. As it happens, I don't care who pays the money. As long as it is paid, i will have no need to take measures against any of you."
He checks his refined nails casually, lifting an eyebrow. " All clear?"
[Isobel(#23796)] "Done!" Ellinor agrees, picking up a simple silver chain without embellishments and exchanging it for the coins. "Ah, well done," she says quietly but not without a fierce note of pride. "Indeed well done, master Rhemlyn.." she smiles smugly to herself.
Then she appears to recollect what she was doing. "Ah, yes, sorry- break your fingers?" the Taurdain says incredulously, raising her brows. "What barbarious guild are you part of?"
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
"Aye!" returns the Guildmaster of the Craftsmen hotly, and he nods. "Now clear off, Arathmor, and tell your masters to expect a complaint of our own. Good day."
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Very well." Alaric says mildly, wholly disinterested in the entier affair. He drifts off, the sound of the clinking metal now somewhat enhanced by the extra bag of coin by his belt. Within moments, he disappears through the door.
Brev hands over the correct coin, tucking pendant and chain away. "Is that not how they do things round here?" he queries Ellinor. "In that case, guess I'll have a long and happy life." He smirks, briefly.
As Rhemlyn's words ring out, however, that smirk fades. "You'd do well to heed my words about watching, though. Over the years I've learned there's what men /say/ and there's what they do. A guildmaster's word wouldn't hold much water if they dragged yon debtor down below." With that ominous warning made, the man shrugs and turns away. "Good day, Mistress Fidget." And off he goes, threading his way through the gaggle of folk and staying well out of any Arathmor's way.
[Isobel(#23796)] Palming her newly acquired coin, Ellinor leans against her stall and watches Brev's retreating figure for longer than simple curiosity warrants. Then she shrugs, and goes back to her business.
The main hall of the Crafts Guild is the center of activity for Laketown's artisians, filled constantly with people exchanging stories or showcasing some of their finer pieces. A great variety of clothes and hues strike the eye, painting the room with some of the more colorful fashions of the town. Occassionally the crests of the noble Houses poke out from the vests and cloaks.
The room is cavernous, yet the constant assortment of crafts and tables seems to consume the extra space, giving it a comfortable, vibrant feeling. Long, hardwood beams run in parallel arches along the length of the roof, focusing upon a partitioned coat-of-arms on the back wall which bears the insignia of all four Houses as well as the standard of Esgaroth. A pair of ornate oak doors lie opposite each other on the side walls, leading to a collection of small offices belonging to the Guildmaster and other prominent members. The floor space is partitioned along the walls by tables, bearing the work of a variety of crafts, and beyond that large hearths provide warm light and crackling flames. At the center of the room rests a large rectangular table, each of its legs carved to include elements of a House's standard. A dark gray bell waits at the table's midpoint to commence formal meetings.
Obvious exits:
Out
[Crafts Guild(#12140)->Brev]
Rhemlyn of the Craftsmen's Guild looks up and offers you a friendly wave.
=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Wed Jun 08 15:10:37 2011 MST
Dale-Lands Time:
Hevensday, midday on a cloudy winter's day, February 16 of 3053
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=
The midday sun streams down through the long windows of the Crafts hall, filling the room with a riot of colour and warmth. The golden rays glint off copper and silver, brighten the many-hued bolts of fabric and wake dancing flames from the tall vases of coloured glass. The place is fairly busy today, the clouded skies and threat of sleet or snow having driven potential customers in from activities outdoors. The sounds of dickering over prices and questions regarding wares merge into a single hum of background noise.
Amongst the shoppers moves a tall man in a grey cloak, his darker skin-tones contrasting with the majority of fair and ruddy faces. The fellow known as Brunni threads his way carefully between tables as though looking for something even though he hasn't moved to so much as touch an item, one or two folk eye him suspiciously. He hardly looks the richest of men.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
And indeed his arrival draws the eye of at least one Guildsman a tall, thin, elderly fellow with bright eyes a wispy greay beard. Rhemlyn, Master of the Craftsman's Guild watches Brunni for a long moment, ere melting from the mill of people he steps forth.
"Good day, good sir," says he. "May we help you?"
[Audrey(#23179)] Amidst the gawkers and townspeople come to buy their wares a small space appears moving slowly through the throng. Two tall men in shining silver mail and blue tabards with silver swans marching up the sleeves and two crossed silver swords across their breasts flank a rather short girl with silver-blonde hair. She stops here to examine a finely-wrought bracelet and there to lift a gold ring to better view its intricacies. Clearly she is a lady of some stature to be handling the items so casually indeed, she is Lady Audrey of House Arathmor.
Brev's gaze fixes on the old man his own greeting is a jerked nod. "Good day to be somewhere other than outdoors, eh?" is his reply. "And I was just looking. Bit of personal shopping and all that. Looking for something small ..." His voice trails off as the seeming gap in the crowd parts just long enough for him to see a delicate hand holding up a gold ring. "Not sure I can afford gold, though." Is that a brush-off? Noblewomen - or noble girls - are, after all, more likely customers.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Rhemlyn's bright eyes are kindly as they look Brev up and down during the foreigner's inspection of the young Arathmor lady, and he chuckles ere he replies: "Not all of our customers can, though happily, not all that is worth buying is golden, sir. May I ask, what manner of item are you searching for?"
And as the crowd parts yet further following the glare of Audrey's guards, a second Guildsman steps forth to greet her a bow of ceremony given to this diminutive yet clearly wealthy guest. "Hail, my lady," says the man, younger than Rhemlyn yet calm and cool in his manner. "Do you seek a new addition to your House's treasury?"
[Amruncrist(#14425)] The vast space which houses the Crafter's Guild is daily visited by every manner of creature, not least of which is Rhuidain Amruncrist, whose luxuriant garments declare that his other features - which name him of the first born - do not belong to one who dwells so near as the halls of King Thranduil. He stops, politely, to inspect a silver bowl after being haled by a particularly bold craftsman, "Hail, master elf... finest ye've seen since the elvenkings of old made in the old halls of Gondolin, hmm?" and whether his history is as well informed as he deems it, Rhuidain stops for his boldness, a pleasant smile writ on his face as he deigns to inspect the bowl. Truly, it shines brightly as a mirror might, but is otherwise poorly adorned - wrought from some mold that was designed a long time before the artisan was born. He replaces the bowl, and is urged to inspect another.
Audrey halts before the Guildsman who has addressed her with such a sure demeanor. Long practiced in the arts of keeping a still face, and longer yet in a still tongue, the girl glances up and to her left at one of the guards. The guard raises a hand and moves to take half a step forward, but with a shake of her head he hesitates and lowers the hand back to his side, though it rests nearer his sword hilt than it did before.
"I am surveying the city's works of silver and gold this day, good sir," the lady of Arathmor responds with a lilting voice. "Have you anything bearing sapphires to show me, perchance?"
[Gildin(#11420)] More of the rustic kind is the elf who enters right behind Amruncrist, clearly one of king Thranduil's subjects who is visiting the town. And while the other elf is quickly hailed by the crafters and tradesmen, this one seems to regular a sight to attract any attention. And so it happens that Gildin simply strolls through the various stands of the guild, looking at a fishing net over here and a set knives over there.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] Laying his hand on a crudely crafted amulet of amethyst, Rhuiwain continues to patronize the elder merchant, whose eyes brighten at the prospect of a sale. "This is a crude stone, sir," his rich baritone surmises. "Ill fitted to your table of such fine wares." The merchant looks baffled by the words, so sing-song even when spoken in the common tongue, his eyes crossing as he attempts to discern whether this is an insult or a complement.
"Something small," Brev repeats, and shrugs. "Pendant, bracelet ... Not wood. There's a lot of wood in our house, given I'm a carpenter by trade. Fair hand at whittling when I need to be."
At the name of 'elf' spoken behind him his shoulders stiffen, but he manages, "Perhaps I should look at the silver? I've no wish to distract you from others with more pressing need ..." A swift gesture of the hand indicates the immaculately garbed Audrey.
Rhuiwain's words ring out, and he stops. "Then again, never hurts to look." He moves up to the table where the girl and her guards had halted, attempting to peer past the swords to see what else might have caught her eye.
[Barlin(#26904)]
In the entrance to the Crafts Guild, a figure draped in the most impressive black appears dark as night, the robes billow from his form, both substancial and silky. Tall, and yet thin as a rake, his nose is long and sharp it curves out beakily from a sickly face of gaunt cheekbones. His eyes are like black gems, gleaming in the light. Glimmering upon his spindly fingers are silver rings, adorned with the deepest of emeralds chains of the same precious metal dangle around his neck.
Moving with all the eery grace of a creeping spider, he advances, weaving through the crowd. Some glance at him with relative unease, and others with evident hatred. But he seems to be indifferent to any adverse disposition towards him, his face the picture of casualness. Arriving at a dainty stall of candlesticks, his beady eyes dart over to Audrey. He sifts through the wares, never moving out of hearing range of her.
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
Rhemlyn grins then at Brev's words, and the Guildmaster's brow arches as he counters: "Ah, but you need not have fine jewels to make a fine brooch, sir, nor silver fillets to capture the sparkle of the sun. Why, our glassblowers and workers of filigree may have just the thing for you, if your purse does not bulge so greatly as that of others?" Sparing a glance to the Mithlondrim as the ancient Elf draws near Audrey, he seems nonetheless stipped wrapt in the company of the foreigner.
Meanwhile, the Guildsman attending to the young Arathmor bows his head once more, and smiles widely. "Sapphires, m'lady? Why, none but the finest. Even the hoard of Smaug the Golden could boast no better than we have on offer. Please, step this way..." he offers, though even as he turns to move away, he pauses at the approach of Amruncrist.
"Fare thee well, sir?" the man asks of the Firstborn.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] "Thank you kindly, master elf," the old merchant decides to take the words as a complement, whether or not that was their true intent. "It was an heirstone to a noble house, they say. Long ago. Or at least that's what the man who sold it to me said. He likely lied to up the price, but there's no fooling the likes of Dagstan, aye. I talked him down to half his asking price, that I did."
Patiently, the azure clad elf allows the story to be told, though his expression is rigid enough that it is not plain whether he enjoys the tale or not. When it is told, he speaks again, his words as mellifluous as a bard, "A good tale, well told, master Dagstan," he names him, releasing the amulet. "Fit for a princess of your folk, no doubt." At this his eyes turn to regard the young woman who has made her entrance, gracing her with a pleasant, if non-comittal smile and the briefest nod of the head, ever the courteous stranger.
Audrey glances up at the nearing elf as the Guildsman addressing her averts his attentions, a slight frown teasing her lips and creasing her brow. "Perhaps another day," she responds, her voice cool yet courteous, and she turns to make her way toward another merchant's stall, the crowd once more parting to allow her and her guards ample space to move.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] As Rhemlyn acknowledges his presence, Amruncrist is not to be outdone in fair words, "I would be loathe to say my time in this place were the pleasantest I have ever spent, but hardly would I say it were the worst. Peace, atan. I hear there is some trouble in your lands, and ever is my sword arm raised to defend those who travel this middle earth." His grey eyes are drawn to the passing Audrey, though they return with practiced deflection to the man who previously greeted him.
The shafts of sunlight from the open windows lighten even Brev's dark hair as he moves across the hall. He reaches the table the Arathmor girl had been inspecting just as Audrey herself decides to move on - leaving him close to that dark, crowlike man who had been watching. That he doesn't seem bothered about, though rather he scowls and mutters, "Damn. Figured a woman would know best what other women are after." Has he no sense of propriety?
Rhemlyn at least is still there at his side. "Glass is ... well, breakable," he answers the man absently. "Silver might survive rougher treatment, eh?"
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
"That it might," agrees Rhemlyn to Brev, and his eyes twinkle. "Though do not sell glass short, my man. It has a value all of its own, and is fond of the sun's light. Indeed, I believe Ellinor, our glassblower, is at hand today. Shall I fetch her? That woman's advice might not be so far out of reach as you suspect..."
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Come here all alone, have we?" A soft voice utters in Audrey's ear. The bird-like man appears by her side, peering down at her with those keen eyes, "... Would your father so approve, young Audrey?"
[Isobel(#23796)] Closer than expected, perhaps, because just then a yellow-haired woman passes by not far from the conversing men and upon hearing her name stops and turns. A few quick steps bring her back to them, skirts swirling, and then she peers between Rhemlyn and Brev curiously. "Have you need of me, master Rhemlyn?" She looks to be somewhere in her thirties with a beauty of face which is still present yet clearly beginning to pass.
Perceiving, perhaps, the way of it, the woman smiles coyly up at Brev, green eyes sparkling. "I'm Ellinor Taurdain may I be of service to you?"
At Rhemlyn's suggestion, Brev's pensive expression lightens a little. "Of course," he agrees gravely. Then, corners of his mouth twitching, he adds, "She wouldn't happen to be your wife, would she? Or your daughter?"
That question is broken off short as the newcomer approaches. One brow arcs up. "I'm looking for something small, pendant or necklace. The Master here believes glass is best suited to my budget. However, since it isn't /me/ who'd be doin g the wearing ..." There is a dry, almost mocking note to his singsong Common at that last.
[Audrey(#23179)] As Audrey drifts away from the first Guildsman's table, the men at her side--one as blonde as the girl herself, though a fair bit taller, and the other with hair black as coal yet shorter and stout--cast their gazes dutifully about the Hall. Brightly-garbed and glittering they may be, but they leave little doubt as to their purpose here today: the young Lady's safety.
At the sound of a quiet voice in her ear, Audrey stops in mid-step and jerks slightly to the side, narrowly managing to avoid jostling the tall guard beside her. Her eyes dart to the right, then back forward again as she releases a breath she wasn't aware she had been holding.
"He knows I am here," is all Audrey says, "and I have these two to guard me. Doubtless they should make even the most daring of thieves think twice and again before approaching me."
[Lorthrain(#23381)]
As Ellinor and Brev greet one another, Master Rhemlyn scans the room, and his gaze flits to the lingering Mithlondhrim there to rest with interest. Bowing his head to excuse himself from the conversation, he moves to join Amruncrist, and smiles to say: "Hail, Master Quendi, as I beleive you call yourselves? Welcome to our fair Guildhall. May I aid you with anything?"
[Amruncrist(#14425)] The merchant behind him attempts to draw Amruncrist attention again, but having failed that, he turns to other customers, shouting out the fineness of his wares and the fairness of his prices.
Placing a hand on the hilt of a finely crafted sword, the elf hears tell of the dangers lurking about Esgaroth, keeping to himself whether he thinks the descriptions might be exaggerated. "It is well that I have come, though long has been my journey," he cuts the man off mysteriously, beginning to move away before Rhemly accosts him. "We call ourselves many things," he asserts, "but Quendi, happily is among these. Hail to you, sir," he matches his greeting. "I come for naught but news, master. I have heard tell and tell of wild things roaming, of armies gathering. But such is always the way in this passing world. What news have you, if it is for a fair price you will be parted from it?"
[Barlin(#26904)]
" How very re-assuring..." The tall man chimes softly, eyeing the two men with something of a disdain, "... I am sure they could handle even the most savage of fiends. Still, it is fortunate that I have business here myself. Some light purchasing is required. I hope, I do not press my company upon you too forcefully?"
Not bothering to wait for an answer, he slips into step beside her. His wealth of silver chains clink as he moves.
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
"Alas," replies Rhemlyn, shaking his head sadly, "I am no peddler of gossip or news my wont is for the crafting of such things as give out townsfolk pleasure. Though, if it news you seek, I have oft heard of a man named Scampre, who can be found loitering in the Fisher's Wharf. Perhaps you would have luck there."
[Isobel(#23796)] Ellinor nods, tapping her chin. "Glass is very useful in that respect because it can be varied greatly and even though an item may cost little, it will look expensive. And that," she adds with a laugh, "is what's important, isn't it?"
She lays a light hand on Brev's arm, with the other indicating a shop a few stalls down. "If you'd come with me to my stall I'll show you a few wares.. perhaps something will be to your liking?" That said she lets her fingers trail down the man's arm whilst stepping away and begins to walk.
[Amruncrist(#14425)] "Be well, master, I thank you for your kind instruction," Amruncrist bows his head politely, before moving in the direction indicated.
[Audrey(#23179)] Even as the darkly attired man falls into step beside her, Audrey draws herself up as much as she can short of rising onto her toes she rolls her shoulders back and down to lift her chest, tilts her chin upward just a touch, yet still she stands a good foot shorter than him.
"I would be pleased to accompany you on your .. errands, Master Alaric," the young Lady offers, her tone just sort of gracious. "But I must implore you to aid me in my search," she adds as she rests her hand lightly in the crook of his elbow.
Once again Brev stiffens as the lilting Elven voice comes from somewhere behind him. He does not turn his head, but it is noticeable by his stillness that he is listening for Rhemlyn's response. Was it perhaps the mention of 'news' that interested him so?
Ellinor's chatter brings him abruptly back to the present. His answer to the initial question is an abrupt, "No." Then, by way of clarification. "Don't want her to look like a damn lady. Want her to look like the fighter she is."
He completely ignores the hand on his arm - well, given he's wearing leather, perhaps he could claim he doesn't feel it. Is it mere chance that the rolling tread of his footfalls happens to jerk his arm free? He certainly doesn't seem to be objecting. "Said I'd take a look. Not promising to buy anything," he remarks, corners of his mouth twitching slightly.
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Excellent." The black-clothed financier says smugly, his lip curling into a slight sneer. Striding forward with the young Arathmor in tow, he approaches the corner of the hall, where a series of stalls and shelves amount to a make-shift shop carved goods, such as decorative ornaments, line the platforms, whilst cupboards and drawer pieces stand freshly whitted in the space bewteen them. Dark woods, and watered reds, and pale silvers can all be seen.
" Mr Hurley..." The soft voice calls, travelling through the murmur of the crowd with unusual ease.
The man behind the stall looks up, and he immediately pales, his lips tightening. " Ah. Mr Alaric. You are after your money, sir?"
" I am." The bird-like man answers, eyeing him unblinkingly. " I assume you have it?"
The man gives a hesistant nod. " Just wait there, sir..." And then scurries off to muster together a hasty collection of silver and bronze pieces.
[Isobel(#23796)] Pausing in front of her stall, Ellinor gazes at the wares on display with a thoughtful frown. "A fighter.." she mumbles to herself, tapping her chin. "I confess, that request has me puzzled.."
Even as she says so, she scoops up two items from different parts of the table. "Can you tell me which of these would be most along the lines of what you're thinking, so I know what to look for?"
In her left hand is a flat piece of clear glass, inlaid with vividly red stripes. It most resembles a stylized claw, like one that could be found on one of the big cats, and there is a hole in the base that one can thread a leather thong or chain through.
In her right hand is a long slim glass pendant, perhaps the length of an index finger and significantly larger than the other one. This, too, is flat and clear, and a dragon motif has been etched into it, and then filled in with black colour.
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
Left alone as Amruncrist departs, Rhemlyn's eyes sweep the room anew, and they narrow as they watch the exchange betwee Alaric and the man known as Hurley. Sidling close, the Guildmaster cocks an ear to the proceedings, but does not intervene as yet.
"Why?" Brev demands of the glassblower, the twitching at the corners of his mouth threatening to become a smirk. "Never had to use a dagger on someone causing you trouble?" The question is delivered quite deadpan, it's hard to tell if he's mocking.
The first item, the striped 'claw', is dismissed. "She already has a bone round her neck," he mutters. The other is peered at more closely. "Dragons, hmm? Suppose it's local, at least." He reaches out a hand as though to hold it. "Trust me not to break it?" he enquires lightly.
The financier's words may or may not have carried that far at any rate he shows no signs of interest in them.
[Barlin(#26904)]
Hurley rustles together what he can, scuttling back to the tall Arathmor nervously. Pouring a motley collection of coins onto the desk before him, he glances up at the financier, looking for approval. Alaric's beady eyes glance over the coins, calculating quickly.
" And the other two silvers, Hurley."
" The other two, sir? I... I don't have them... Not yet... Come back later, I'll have sold some more.... Busy day, an' all that..."
" I'm afraid I don't do delays. Bad for business." The bird-like man's eyes gleam as he gazes coolly at the woodworker, who's face is swiftly turning a beetroot purple. " Shall I have to begin appropriation procedures?"
" N... No, sir..." The man says meagerly, reaching into his pocket and drawing out another pair of silver coins, "... These were for m'food, sir... I..." He gives a sigh, before tossing them onto the pile.
Alaric says nothing, simply drawing a dark pouch from the folds of his robes and beginning to scoop the coins into it with a claw-like hand.
[Isobel(#23796)] Ellinor smiles back, an edge in it suddenly. "You know, I've never had to use a dagger. The blowpipe will usually suffice. Once someone's been hit with a metal rod which is hot enough to melt flesh in one end.." she shrugs. "They tend not to trouble me again. Can't imagine why."
Claw disregarded, she puts it back again and hands the other one over without prompting. "Certainly. If you break it.. well, I just told you a ghastly story, didn't I?" Ellinor winks, and then begins toying with a lock of her hair as she waits.
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
Rhemlyn's brow furrows deeply as he listens to Alaric and hurley, and with an audbile clearing of his throat he steps forward in challenge. "Is there a proble, Master Alaric? Just what is the meaning of accosting my guildsmen in their own hall?"
Brev grins as he accepts the pendant. "I'm hardly a stranger to rods hot enough to sear flesh myself," he says quite mildly. "Though I imagine our intent is different." He lifts the glass and turns it this way and that so that the etched dragon catches the light, casting odd wavering shadows across the hall. "So," he continues, lowering the item abruptly, "how much were you after for it? And," he eyes the lock-twining finger for a long moment, "is that hair bothering you? If you've an itching head, I could get hold of a few herbs ..." Is he truly immune to Ellinor's charm, or just a good actor?
Only a flicker in his eyes betrays that he's heard something of the exchange between guildmaster and financier going on across the room.
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Debt, Mister Rhemlyn, debt." Alaric chimes softly, considering the man for a moment as he attaches the meagre pouch of money to his belt, before allowing his robes to shift over it, obscuring it from view, "... Burely owes me a certain sum every week, as was agreed when I invested in his..." He glances at the wood carvingss contemptuously, "... /Business/. Such is the nature of things."
His eyes drift back to the woodworker. " Same time next week, Burley. Hopefully, you will be more profitable. Somebody must be interested in useless guff, after all."
[Isobel(#23796)] Ellinor chuckles. "Then you should understand the implications of being hit by one.. That one? One silver penny, and ten copper pennies for a leather thong, or fifty copper pennies for a simpler silver chain if you haven't got anything to hang it from."
The straightforward question Ellinor takes in stride and with good humor, though she does cease the twining. "Good sir," she cries, turning her palms up in an explanatory gesture, "I'm an artisan. If my hands are still for too long they grow restless, as birds." Pausing, she tilts her head down slightly and looks up at Brev from under long eyelashes. "They are always looking for.. something.. to do."
Then she smiles innocently. "But if it offends you then I shall endeavour to stop for the moment."
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
his kindly eyes harden then, and Rhemlyn folds his arms as he addresses the Senior of the Merchants Guild. "It will not ne the same time next week at all, Alaric, and I pray you keep such business away from my halls for good. This is a place of true business, and true trade, not the preying upon the desperation of others which occurs next door behind your brass doors."
A concerned look enteres his gaze then as it flits to the recently squeezed fellow. "Burley," says he, "if you were in hardship, why did you not come to me?"
[Barlin(#26904)]
" I am afraid that is not possible..." The crow-like man says curtly, his eyes drifting back to the Guildmaster and filling with black ice, "... This man owes me money, that I have a legal right to. If he does not pay me it, I shall return with the Captain of the Guard in tow and have his assets appropriated. And as for why he did not come to you..." He lifts an eyebrow, waiting for the woodworker himself to explain.
Burley, for his part, is now looking at his feet. " Well, sir..." He mumbles, glancing up and then down again, "... I... I didn't want you to think I was struggling, or anythin'. You know, business hasn't been great, and those Arathmor shippers have put prices up on the wood, and my new babe has cost us a fortune..." He runs a hand across his forehead, which is now sparkling with sweaty beads, "... Didn't want to lose my place in the hall, sir. So, I... I got a loan from Mister Alaric here..."
Alaric nods, satsified. " I could show you the contract, if you like. All very legitimate. Now, if you would excuse me, I have work to do. Unless, you are in need of some coin, Mister Rhemlyn?"
Brev pulls one side of his mouth back in a half-smile. "A silver penny sounds fair to me," he agrees, then amends, watching carefully to see how the glassblower will take it, "for pendant and silver chain both." He meets that long-lashed gaze squarely and tells the woman, his mouth twitching anew, "Oh, it doesn't offend me. Not my hair you're tying in knots. Maybe you should take up carving - though yon poor wretch seems to be having little enough joy from it." Wryly he indicates the corner from which raised voices are coming with a jerk of his chin. The playful quality to his gaze is replaced by sombreness, though he tries to hide it by adding, "I won't offer to teach you the dagger, Mistress, you need stillness for that."
[Isobel(#23796)] "You would send me to the brink of ruin, sir?" Ellinor says, a displeased pout appearing. "I could throw in the leather thong for free, I suppose, or the chain for thirty.. but that will really be like cutting my own throat!"
She looks over to the scene playing out, shaking her head and sighing. "Ah, those Arathmors.." Ellinor says, a sour note creeping into her voice. "Coming in here and disturbing our honest business. For shame, says I!"
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
And Rhemlyn would certainly seem to agree, for his features are turned now into a mask of cool anger, ere he nods to Alaric. "Aye, do that. Bring your contract, so I might inspect it. I shall be paying for Burley's debt from the Guild coffers, and you need not darken these doors again in the search for repayment. You Merchants are the bane of true craftsmen, and are not welcome here. Is that understood?"
The elderly man draws himself up. "If you have any complaints, you may take them up with House Taurdain."
Perhaps the disruption across the room (which, indeed, many workers and patrons are watching surreptitiously by now) has dulled Brev's appetite for bargaining. At the glassblower's suggestion he simply nods. "One silver and thirty then. Done." He keeps the pendant in his hand, whilst the other slips into some concealed pocket in the leather jerkin, bringing out a handful of coin.
"Figure that's what I'll have coming if I don't keep up my guild fees," he says carelessly as he turns his head to glance at the face-off. "Though I rather think they'd break my fingers first-" At that thought he frowns. "Where's he live? he murmurs softly. "Might not be a bad idea to have someone intimidating walk him home."
[Barlin(#26904)]
" I have better things to do with my time than scurry before you, /Taurdain/..." The financier sneers, wrinkling his nose haughtily, "... If you want to inspect the contract, you shall have to visit my offices on a time when you can be accomodated. I am sure you will find them with ease they're the ones that you couldn't afford. As it happens, I don't care who pays the money. As long as it is paid, i will have no need to take measures against any of you."
He checks his refined nails casually, lifting an eyebrow. " All clear?"
[Isobel(#23796)] "Done!" Ellinor agrees, picking up a simple silver chain without embellishments and exchanging it for the coins. "Ah, well done," she says quietly but not without a fierce note of pride. "Indeed well done, master Rhemlyn.." she smiles smugly to herself.
Then she appears to recollect what she was doing. "Ah, yes, sorry- break your fingers?" the Taurdain says incredulously, raising her brows. "What barbarious guild are you part of?"
[Mr.Dalelands(#6830)]
"Aye!" returns the Guildmaster of the Craftsmen hotly, and he nods. "Now clear off, Arathmor, and tell your masters to expect a complaint of our own. Good day."
[Barlin(#26904)]
" Very well." Alaric says mildly, wholly disinterested in the entier affair. He drifts off, the sound of the clinking metal now somewhat enhanced by the extra bag of coin by his belt. Within moments, he disappears through the door.
Brev hands over the correct coin, tucking pendant and chain away. "Is that not how they do things round here?" he queries Ellinor. "In that case, guess I'll have a long and happy life." He smirks, briefly.
As Rhemlyn's words ring out, however, that smirk fades. "You'd do well to heed my words about watching, though. Over the years I've learned there's what men /say/ and there's what they do. A guildmaster's word wouldn't hold much water if they dragged yon debtor down below." With that ominous warning made, the man shrugs and turns away. "Good day, Mistress Fidget." And off he goes, threading his way through the gaggle of folk and staying well out of any Arathmor's way.
[Isobel(#23796)] Palming her newly acquired coin, Ellinor leans against her stall and watches Brev's retreating figure for longer than simple curiosity warrants. Then she shrugs, and goes back to her business.
Players: Brev, Brunni, Rhemlyn, Audrey, Amruncrist, Gildin, Alaric, Ellinor
Located in: Dunlending
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