Elendor
'Twas a dark and stormy night
Unwelcome visitors come knocking at the door of Torebras' homely cottage
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shire: Village of Newbury
Game Date: January 3051
IC Time: Night
Weather: Storm
Description: Village of Newbury
This is a small, primarily residential village, which provides peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle of nearby Bucklebury. Here stands the center of the village, which has a few shops that serve the local community, and is surrounded by scattered hobbit residences. Newbury Trail heads east up to a grassy hilltop and west towards the Buckland Road.
No one is about at this time of night and the welcoming light of candles come from many of the smials. Most of the businesses are closed for the evening and you can hear the sounds of many night critters coming from the nearby Old Forest. The lanes and hills are blanketed by snowfall and the nearby vineyard stands dormant and empty.
Heavy black clouds fill the sky, as far as the eye can see, each unburdening itself of gallons of rain. The occasional flash of fork lighting illuminates the dark skyline. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
Obvious exits:
Vineyard leads to Newbury Vineyard.
Headstrong Smial leads to Headstrong Smial.
Headstrong Winery leads to Headstrong Winery.
West leads to Buckland, South of the Hay Gate.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Tue Sep 28 16:06:34 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 05:19:42 on Wednesday, Afteryule (January) 18, 1451 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Heavy black clouds fill the sky, as far as the eye can see, each unburdening itself of gallons of rain. The occasional flash of fork lighting illuminates the dark skyline. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================
It's a miserable evening. The snow that had piled up all round the quaint little village of Newbury, giving the place a festive air, has long since been washed away in the torrents of rain that now release their load upon the unsuspecting Shire. The nearby boughs of the Old Forest seem almost to groan under the force of the deluge.
The occasional flash of lightening lights up the sky, but most of the windows are dark - the local populace has long since given up on today and gone to bed. However, in one dwelling away at the edge of the village - a long, low cottage rather than a smial proper, standing in its own private little glade - the warm yellow light of a lamp shines and seems to flicker as a lone furry-footed figure paces up and down, passing before it. Torebras Bywater cannot sleep.
[Bagurat(#24847)] Dark and dreary indeed is the night, and yet there seems to be a pair of deeper shadows within it. One of them shifts suddenly from his spot against the side of the cottage, and a branch of lightning reveals the identity: a tall dirty Man with a club held in one hand. Craning his neck, Shirky tries to peer into the window, and he whispers to another. "Now? We get 'im?"
[Nob(#16122)] Birky grins, revealing a few missing teeth, and nods. "Said he'd have money got t'gether..." He starts to tiptoe towards the door, leaving Shirky for the window. Again.
At the rumble of thunder that follows the lightening, Torebras pauses before the window of the cottage, his hand to his forehead. "Oh, what am I to do?" he murmurs in a tone of desperation. "How much money will it take-" And then his worried brown eyes lift from their study of his nice carpeted floor and he stares out into the night.
At the unexpected sight of Shirky staring back at him, he jumps back a full foot. His mouth is opening and closing, but no sound will come out.
[Bagurat(#24847)] Torebras' sudden fright wins a crooked grin from the face in the window, and mockingly Shirky decides to wave right back through the glass. His other hand however is not as kind, and it lifts the heavy club, pausing in preparation for a swing. "Open yer door, or I's smash my way in, see?"
[Nob(#16122)] Birky stops and looks back. Who is that blasted Shirky talking to anyways? He waves frantically, holding one finger in front of his mouth. And then reaches out to try Torebras' doorhandle.
"No .. no!" Torebras finds enough breath for that squeak of protest at least. He has started to tremble, but he pitter-patters shakily across the carpet to the door. "Not again - please, please! I'll do anything, but don't destroy my property again." Again? The place looks neat as a pin, and certainly not 'destroyed' by any stretch of the imagination.
The hobbit pauses before the door, looking wildly around as though seeking a place to hide. There's that coat-stand ... decision made he yanks the door wide open - Birky may well find himself tumbling - and scuttles behind a long charcoal-coloured greatcoat, only his furry feet showing.
[Bagurat(#24847)] The door flies open -- Ha! -- and Shirky slips for it, waving a dismissive hand at Birky's shushing. And over the threshold he goes, pausing for a moment once inside, and peering about. "Where'd he go?" he asks to no one in particular.
[Nob(#16122)] Birky does indeed go tumbling in, entirely off-balance, and ending up on his nose in the hobbit's front room. "What?" he grumbles irritably, rubbing his head. "Where'd who go?" He looks around. A nice, pleasantly furnished place - warm and cozy - "Ain't nobody here," he says unnecessarily.
Torebras stays quiet as a mouse, listening to the ruffians' conversation. The coat-stand, however, is trembling slightly, as might an aspen tree stirred by a breath of wind.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "But," begins Shirky, frowning and scratching his head. "I saw him. There in the window. If there's no one here, then...who opened the door?" A few more paces are taken into the room, and he stares about suspiciously, though slightly confused.
[Nob(#16122)] "I dunno," Birky says, but he doesn't sound like he cares. "Don't just stand there gawping, find the money!"
[Nob(#16122)] He pushes himself uncomfortably to his feet and turns around, examining the room.
That's a very good question of Shirky's. The place /looks/ recently occupied - there's a fire in the grate, a gold-nibbed pen and sheets of fine parchment on the elegant walnut-wood writing desk, and a dent in the velvet cushions on the comfortably hobbit-sized sofa.
Torebras, hardly daring to breath, peers through a buttonhole in the coat to see just what his unwelcome visitors are doing. When he notes Birky's gaze pause on an ornate silver-chased box at one end of the mantleshelf, a small choking noise escapes him.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "Right, the money," nods the second man, and he strides forward, starting to peek under tables and throw cushions into the air as he searches. There is a shattering as he knockes a fancy plate off a shelf. "If you's was one of them small folk, where would you hide it?" But then he pauses when next he turns round again for it is then that the choking noise comes. Shirky seems to have not noticed the box yet. "You say something? What's the matter, got something in yer throat?"
[Nob(#16122)] "Ain't nothing matter with my throat," Birky says grouchily. "What's got into you anyways, Shirky?" He heads towards the silver box, weighing it in one hand. "Now this 'ere's something like!" Looking around vaguely, he says, "Um... don't folks always hide stuff in the same places? Like... er.... "
Torebras winces as the plate shatters. Biting his lip, he manages to keep quiet a little longer - but when Birky lifts the box - which, oddly, isn't very weighty, and has a strong aroma of pipeweed clinging to it - alas, it is all too much. "No!" Torebras croaks, leaping forward - or trying to. His sudden movement sends the entire coatstand crashing groundward (or bandit-wards, should either of the brigands happen to be in the way).
[Bagurat(#24847)] "Eh? Like what?" is Shirky's eloquent reply to the other bandit's question. He steps over closer to the mantlepiece over the fireplace to see what Birky is holding. "See, if I's wanted to hide somethin'--"
But the rest of the statement is never finished, drowned out by the cry and the crash from behind. Shirky spins around, startled, and then gives a shout of his own. "Look, look! And yer thought I was crazy. There's that fellow."
[Nob(#16122)] "Yeah?" Birky asks, admiring the box. He holds it up to the light, turns it around this way and that, starts to pry it open... and leaps a good foot into the air at the unexpected, startling crash.
"Oh. Right you are." Bending over to peer at the hobbit hatrack, Birky grins. "There you is. Now, where's this here money we been told about?"
Torebras takes a single step forward, trips on the coatrack and finds himself with his nose on the carpet, inspecting the dirt that the brigands have tracked in. "Y-you might at least wipe your boots." The words sound faintly reproving, even if he is scrabbling on the floor like a beetle. Indignation lends him strength for he adds, "Wasn't it enough to ruin me in Bree, that you must follow me here and make trouble for me in the Shire too? If-" he stops, taking a deep breath, "if I g-give you money you'll go away and never come back?" His quavering voice sounds suddenly hopeful.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "Depends on how much yer give," smiles Shirky unpleasantly, "and how much yer has left. Birky?" And he turns his head to see what his companion's opinion is. Meanwhile he does wipe his boots -- one a piece of fine parchment that has been scattered from the desk top.
[Nob(#16122)] "Bree?" Birky repeats blankly. He stares at Torebras suspiciously. "How'd he know we come from Bree?" he demands. "What if he goes and tells people?" He glances down at his boots - they're not dirty!
Shakily Torebras pushes himself up to his hands and knees, and then rises to stand on his own two furry feet. Wordlessly he reaches inside his waistcoat-pocket and draws out a little key, which he extends on his sweating palm. "It- it's all in there." He nods towards the walnut-wood writing desk. No, it seems Torebras is not one of those folk who finds creative places to hide their cash. "I've got nothing left," he adds in a panicked squeak after.
Birky's question elicits a dumb shake of the head. "I haven't told a soul," he murmurs after he's found some voice. "Noone knows I was forced to cede the election - y-you're Ferny's, aren't you? I've told you, I didn't tell."
Poor Torebras. Each word is higher-pitched than the last.
[Bagurat(#24847)] Shirky snorts a little, threatening, "Better not tell anyone, or else." He smacks his club into his palm, no further elaboration necessary. He snatches at the offered key, but then passes it over the Birky. "Here, yer go unlock it, while I make sure he doesn't try anything funny." And he sniffs loudly, giving Torebras his best bandity stare.
[Nob(#16122)] Birky subsides, though he still looks a little doubtful. "Ferny? Oh. Er. Right. Ferny, hah hah." He takes the key and fiddles with the lock, opening up the desk - and setting down the little silver box back on the mantle in the meanwhile. His eyes widen greedily at the sight of the money, and he starts stuffing it into his pockets as fast as he can.
Torebras stands there trembling under the force of Shirky's glare - but when Birky sets down the little box he lets out a small sigh. He watches the bandit grabbing at his money for a moment, then has to look away. A tear trickles down one plump cheek.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "There's a good lad," chuckles Shirky as the hobbit stays put. "See? Wasn't so hard, eh?" When Birky snatches the money, the second man steps away from poor Torebras and heads for the door. "Come on," he waves his hand, gesturing for the other bandit to follow. And soon, with a tramping of booted feet -- all over the nice parchment! -- they are gone into the night.
The bandits gone, Torebras scuttles over to his nice round front-door and turns the key in the lock. He leans against it for a long moment, trembling with reaction. Slowly he bends to pick up his desecrated parchment and throw it on the merrily crackling fire. And then, his hands still shaking, he pulls out a silver-stemmed pipe and crosses to the mantleshelf to lift down his special box of Vintage Old Toby. Time for a smoke to calm the nerves ...
This is a small, primarily residential village, which provides peace and quiet from the hustle and bustle of nearby Bucklebury. Here stands the center of the village, which has a few shops that serve the local community, and is surrounded by scattered hobbit residences. Newbury Trail heads east up to a grassy hilltop and west towards the Buckland Road.
No one is about at this time of night and the welcoming light of candles come from many of the smials. Most of the businesses are closed for the evening and you can hear the sounds of many night critters coming from the nearby Old Forest. The lanes and hills are blanketed by snowfall and the nearby vineyard stands dormant and empty.
Heavy black clouds fill the sky, as far as the eye can see, each unburdening itself of gallons of rain. The occasional flash of fork lighting illuminates the dark skyline. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
Obvious exits:
Vineyard leads to Newbury Vineyard.
Headstrong Smial leads to Headstrong Smial.
Headstrong Winery leads to Headstrong Winery.
West leads to Buckland, South of the Hay Gate.
================================= +SHIRE TIME =================================
RL (Arizona) Time is Tue Sep 28 16:06:34 2010 (+time).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Time is 05:19:42 on Wednesday, Afteryule (January) 18, 1451 S.R.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
IC Weather Conditions:
----------------------
Heavy black clouds fill the sky, as far as the eye can see, each unburdening itself of gallons of rain. The occasional flash of fork lighting illuminates the dark skyline. The sky is veiled in cloud, hiding any trace of the moon.
===============================================================================
It's a miserable evening. The snow that had piled up all round the quaint little village of Newbury, giving the place a festive air, has long since been washed away in the torrents of rain that now release their load upon the unsuspecting Shire. The nearby boughs of the Old Forest seem almost to groan under the force of the deluge.
The occasional flash of lightening lights up the sky, but most of the windows are dark - the local populace has long since given up on today and gone to bed. However, in one dwelling away at the edge of the village - a long, low cottage rather than a smial proper, standing in its own private little glade - the warm yellow light of a lamp shines and seems to flicker as a lone furry-footed figure paces up and down, passing before it. Torebras Bywater cannot sleep.
[Bagurat(#24847)] Dark and dreary indeed is the night, and yet there seems to be a pair of deeper shadows within it. One of them shifts suddenly from his spot against the side of the cottage, and a branch of lightning reveals the identity: a tall dirty Man with a club held in one hand. Craning his neck, Shirky tries to peer into the window, and he whispers to another. "Now? We get 'im?"
[Nob(#16122)] Birky grins, revealing a few missing teeth, and nods. "Said he'd have money got t'gether..." He starts to tiptoe towards the door, leaving Shirky for the window. Again.
At the rumble of thunder that follows the lightening, Torebras pauses before the window of the cottage, his hand to his forehead. "Oh, what am I to do?" he murmurs in a tone of desperation. "How much money will it take-" And then his worried brown eyes lift from their study of his nice carpeted floor and he stares out into the night.
At the unexpected sight of Shirky staring back at him, he jumps back a full foot. His mouth is opening and closing, but no sound will come out.
[Bagurat(#24847)] Torebras' sudden fright wins a crooked grin from the face in the window, and mockingly Shirky decides to wave right back through the glass. His other hand however is not as kind, and it lifts the heavy club, pausing in preparation for a swing. "Open yer door, or I's smash my way in, see?"
[Nob(#16122)] Birky stops and looks back. Who is that blasted Shirky talking to anyways? He waves frantically, holding one finger in front of his mouth. And then reaches out to try Torebras' doorhandle.
"No .. no!" Torebras finds enough breath for that squeak of protest at least. He has started to tremble, but he pitter-patters shakily across the carpet to the door. "Not again - please, please! I'll do anything, but don't destroy my property again." Again? The place looks neat as a pin, and certainly not 'destroyed' by any stretch of the imagination.
The hobbit pauses before the door, looking wildly around as though seeking a place to hide. There's that coat-stand ... decision made he yanks the door wide open - Birky may well find himself tumbling - and scuttles behind a long charcoal-coloured greatcoat, only his furry feet showing.
[Bagurat(#24847)] The door flies open -- Ha! -- and Shirky slips for it, waving a dismissive hand at Birky's shushing. And over the threshold he goes, pausing for a moment once inside, and peering about. "Where'd he go?" he asks to no one in particular.
[Nob(#16122)] Birky does indeed go tumbling in, entirely off-balance, and ending up on his nose in the hobbit's front room. "What?" he grumbles irritably, rubbing his head. "Where'd who go?" He looks around. A nice, pleasantly furnished place - warm and cozy - "Ain't nobody here," he says unnecessarily.
Torebras stays quiet as a mouse, listening to the ruffians' conversation. The coat-stand, however, is trembling slightly, as might an aspen tree stirred by a breath of wind.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "But," begins Shirky, frowning and scratching his head. "I saw him. There in the window. If there's no one here, then...who opened the door?" A few more paces are taken into the room, and he stares about suspiciously, though slightly confused.
[Nob(#16122)] "I dunno," Birky says, but he doesn't sound like he cares. "Don't just stand there gawping, find the money!"
[Nob(#16122)] He pushes himself uncomfortably to his feet and turns around, examining the room.
That's a very good question of Shirky's. The place /looks/ recently occupied - there's a fire in the grate, a gold-nibbed pen and sheets of fine parchment on the elegant walnut-wood writing desk, and a dent in the velvet cushions on the comfortably hobbit-sized sofa.
Torebras, hardly daring to breath, peers through a buttonhole in the coat to see just what his unwelcome visitors are doing. When he notes Birky's gaze pause on an ornate silver-chased box at one end of the mantleshelf, a small choking noise escapes him.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "Right, the money," nods the second man, and he strides forward, starting to peek under tables and throw cushions into the air as he searches. There is a shattering as he knockes a fancy plate off a shelf. "If you's was one of them small folk, where would you hide it?" But then he pauses when next he turns round again for it is then that the choking noise comes. Shirky seems to have not noticed the box yet. "You say something? What's the matter, got something in yer throat?"
[Nob(#16122)] "Ain't nothing matter with my throat," Birky says grouchily. "What's got into you anyways, Shirky?" He heads towards the silver box, weighing it in one hand. "Now this 'ere's something like!" Looking around vaguely, he says, "Um... don't folks always hide stuff in the same places? Like... er.... "
Torebras winces as the plate shatters. Biting his lip, he manages to keep quiet a little longer - but when Birky lifts the box - which, oddly, isn't very weighty, and has a strong aroma of pipeweed clinging to it - alas, it is all too much. "No!" Torebras croaks, leaping forward - or trying to. His sudden movement sends the entire coatstand crashing groundward (or bandit-wards, should either of the brigands happen to be in the way).
[Bagurat(#24847)] "Eh? Like what?" is Shirky's eloquent reply to the other bandit's question. He steps over closer to the mantlepiece over the fireplace to see what Birky is holding. "See, if I's wanted to hide somethin'--"
But the rest of the statement is never finished, drowned out by the cry and the crash from behind. Shirky spins around, startled, and then gives a shout of his own. "Look, look! And yer thought I was crazy. There's that fellow."
[Nob(#16122)] "Yeah?" Birky asks, admiring the box. He holds it up to the light, turns it around this way and that, starts to pry it open... and leaps a good foot into the air at the unexpected, startling crash.
"Oh. Right you are." Bending over to peer at the hobbit hatrack, Birky grins. "There you is. Now, where's this here money we been told about?"
Torebras takes a single step forward, trips on the coatrack and finds himself with his nose on the carpet, inspecting the dirt that the brigands have tracked in. "Y-you might at least wipe your boots." The words sound faintly reproving, even if he is scrabbling on the floor like a beetle. Indignation lends him strength for he adds, "Wasn't it enough to ruin me in Bree, that you must follow me here and make trouble for me in the Shire too? If-" he stops, taking a deep breath, "if I g-give you money you'll go away and never come back?" His quavering voice sounds suddenly hopeful.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "Depends on how much yer give," smiles Shirky unpleasantly, "and how much yer has left. Birky?" And he turns his head to see what his companion's opinion is. Meanwhile he does wipe his boots -- one a piece of fine parchment that has been scattered from the desk top.
[Nob(#16122)] "Bree?" Birky repeats blankly. He stares at Torebras suspiciously. "How'd he know we come from Bree?" he demands. "What if he goes and tells people?" He glances down at his boots - they're not dirty!
Shakily Torebras pushes himself up to his hands and knees, and then rises to stand on his own two furry feet. Wordlessly he reaches inside his waistcoat-pocket and draws out a little key, which he extends on his sweating palm. "It- it's all in there." He nods towards the walnut-wood writing desk. No, it seems Torebras is not one of those folk who finds creative places to hide their cash. "I've got nothing left," he adds in a panicked squeak after.
Birky's question elicits a dumb shake of the head. "I haven't told a soul," he murmurs after he's found some voice. "Noone knows I was forced to cede the election - y-you're Ferny's, aren't you? I've told you, I didn't tell."
Poor Torebras. Each word is higher-pitched than the last.
[Bagurat(#24847)] Shirky snorts a little, threatening, "Better not tell anyone, or else." He smacks his club into his palm, no further elaboration necessary. He snatches at the offered key, but then passes it over the Birky. "Here, yer go unlock it, while I make sure he doesn't try anything funny." And he sniffs loudly, giving Torebras his best bandity stare.
[Nob(#16122)] Birky subsides, though he still looks a little doubtful. "Ferny? Oh. Er. Right. Ferny, hah hah." He takes the key and fiddles with the lock, opening up the desk - and setting down the little silver box back on the mantle in the meanwhile. His eyes widen greedily at the sight of the money, and he starts stuffing it into his pockets as fast as he can.
Torebras stands there trembling under the force of Shirky's glare - but when Birky sets down the little box he lets out a small sigh. He watches the bandit grabbing at his money for a moment, then has to look away. A tear trickles down one plump cheek.
[Bagurat(#24847)] "There's a good lad," chuckles Shirky as the hobbit stays put. "See? Wasn't so hard, eh?" When Birky snatches the money, the second man steps away from poor Torebras and heads for the door. "Come on," he waves his hand, gesturing for the other bandit to follow. And soon, with a tramping of booted feet -- all over the nice parchment! -- they are gone into the night.
The bandits gone, Torebras scuttles over to his nice round front-door and turns the key in the lock. He leans against it for a long moment, trembling with reaction. Slowly he bends to pick up his desecrated parchment and throw it on the merrily crackling fire. And then, his hands still shaking, he pulls out a silver-stemmed pipe and crosses to the mantleshelf to lift down his special box of Vintage Old Toby. Time for a smoke to calm the nerves ...
Players: Torebras, Birky, Shirky
