Elendor
Splinters at the store
Lodobrus tries to place a grocery order, hampered by a mannerless foreigner with an agenda of his own
Sort Date: no date set
Location: General Store
Game Date: May 3049
IC Time: Morning
Description: General Store
The spacious general store has creaking wooden floors, and a slightly musty smell. There are several spots on the wall now devoid of paint where shelves were hung. Many shelves still remain but most of the goods are displayed on various tables, in barrels, and on racks. A large counter lines the wall closest to the door. Along one wall is a small bookcase lined with a few books, all looking extremely old and dusty. A portion of space in the middle of the store contains tables with a few pelts, sharpening stones, pipes, etc. A glimpse at the back of the store reveals a group of barrels and coils of rope.
Obvious exits:
Out
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Fri Mar 12 23:58:48 2010
Bree time: Early morning on Trewsday of Spring - May 30,1449
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon
Breelands Weather
The early morning spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly.
===============================================================================
[Lodobrus(#16042)] The sun has just begun to peek over the top of Bree Hill, and as usual its arrival has set in motion a flurry of activity in the markets of the town. Carriages race to and fro while harried-looking messenger hobbits dash between them toting various and sundry paperwork--all amongst the everyday bustle of the area caused by pipe-weed vendors, produce salesmen, rope-weavers and every other manner of merchant one can think of.
In stark contrast with the fast-paced nature of the area, a particularly old-looking hobbit makes his way across town leisurely and deliberately, seemingly oblivious to the inconvenience he causes those who are obviously in a hurry. One such busybody presently stops his carriage suddenly and veers sharply to the right, only narrowly missing the elderly halfling. "Get out of the way!" yells the driver as he continues on.
"Why don't you slow down, you nuisance!" he responds, shaking a fist at the passing carriage menacingly before ducking into the General Store.
The tall, lanky fellow strolling through the market appears to be in no hurry. He meanders through the crowd, stopping once to look at a handbarrow full of fresh produce ("/How/ much? I could buy my own thrall to grow it for that!"). As the cart rushes past he looks after it, shaking his head. "Wheel's going to come off if you go at that speed," he yells after it. "I can fix it for you at a good price." Then, snorting as said cart clatters away, he too heads into the store. He swings the door open with a hefty, jarring shove - not bothering to worry about whether there might be anyone behind it.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] Naturally, the man's abrupt entry into the store jars the slow-moving hobbit forward, sending him stumbling inside without warning and into the side of another man inside. "Ahem! Excuse me!" he says with a tone and demeanor that suggests the statement wasn't meant for the person he ran into.
"Yes, that's right, ex-cuse- me," he tells the man who entered behind him, his voice gravelly and altogether unpleasant. "Just where on Bree Hill do you think you're going in such a hurry?"
"You're excused," the swarthy-looking fellow who'd swung the door open tells Lodobrus in sing-song Common, a corner of his mouth twitching. "And - here? Good strong door, that." He sounds almost disappointed.
The man Lodobrus had bumped into turns round, looking annoyed, but the 'apology' is accepted with a nod. He glances back round the shop. "Uh - Mr Longholes? There's /folk/ here."
At first he might seem to be talking to thin air. But then a curly head pops up as a harassed-looking middle-aged hobbit looks up from the box he'd been rummaging in. "We're not open yet," he says pointedly to his trio of would-be customers. "Didn't you see the sign on the door? Staff training, you know ..."
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "Yes, a strong door indeed--and I should say I know better than most. In fact, we're quite well-acquainted," says the hobbit, rubbing his posterior with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyhow--" he begins again, but is interupted by the shop-keeping hobbit.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean!" he tells the proprietor, doddering toward the counter that separates owner from customer. "I don't believe I've been to a shop that left the door open when it wasn't accepting customers--a curious business practice, to be sure."
Lodobrus' comment is greeted by a chuckle from the swarthy stranger as he steps further into the shop - not a particularly nice one.
The shopkeeper dusts down his hands on his apron before glancing in the direction of the door. "Open," he says importantly, "to allow ingress and egress of goods. James, my good fellow, go and get that last crate of turnips, will you?"
The hulking young man Lodobrus had bumped into leaves off gawping and heads out (leaving the door wide open behind him, naturally).
The shopkeeper shakes his head. "New," he comments softly to Lodobrus. "Hired help, my usual's off sick. Like I said, staff training." He looks the elderly hobbit up and down then seems to come to a decision. "You're welcome to browse for a few minutes until we're ready to serve you, my good gentlehobbit." His gaze shifts to the other intruder, the Big Person, and his polite smile fades.
The swarthy man gives him a level look. "Didn't see any sign," he assures the shopkeeper solemnly. "'Sides, I'm not here to buy."
Lodobrus seems pleased with the shop-keeper's attitude, and re-directs his usual charms in the foreigner's direction. "Of -course- not--just here to push elderly hobbits out of the way, then?" he asks with an expression that suggests he doesn't really want an answer. True to form, he doesn't wait for one, opting instead to puruse the selection of goods offered by the shop. "I have quite a large order," the hobbit begins, seemingly ignorant of the shop-keeper's insistance that he only look, "and I'll need it delivered."
That request of Lodobrus' sets the shopkeeper fidgeting again. "I ... ah, I suppose I could send James round with it," he concedes at last, his gaze darting round the store. What sort of goods was it, Mister ...?" He lets the words trail off into a question. "And I'm afraid we don't entertain timewasters." His voice sharpens as he notes that the other, the Big Person is still here.
The swarthy fellow doesn 't quail under the hobbit-stares doesn't even flinch. "I can do that for free, if you like," he tells Lodobrus, a note of mockery in his sing-song speech. "But I'm here to offer my services. Figure they're needed." He glances round the shop and snorts.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "I'll need twenty-five beeswax candles, ten baskets, three cloaks, a bushel of carrots, thirty-five feet of rope," Lodobrus rattles off before the shop-keeper has a chance finish speaking, "and two bushels of turnips, preferably of the variety grown in Archet if you have them."
Seemingly satisfied, he wheels around to face the foreigner and regards him with a contemptuous expression. "Can you apologize for free aswell?" he asks, sarcasm dripping from the words.
"I - ah, I'm afraid we're not looking to take on more staff at present," the shopkeeper tells the swarthy fellow, for all he'd confessed to being shorthanded a little earlier. As Lodobrus reels off his list he looks flustered. "Just a moment, Mr - my good gentlehobbit," he amends when the realization he still has no name for his customer comes. "Not so fast! Now, where did I put that paper?" He ducks down to the box he'd been rummaging in.
The foreigner looks down at Lodobrus. "No, that costs you," he answers, deadpan. "Ten coppers a time." At the shopkeeper's response he snorts. "Kiern! Wasn't offering to fetch and carry. Some fellow in the market said you needed a carpenter. See he was right, too. Look at the state of yon shelves." He moves over to one.
It is at this point that the young man James staggers back through the door, a huge crate of turnips in his arms. Lodobrus will have at least one of the items in his order today ...
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "Lodobrus. Lodobrus Leafturner, son of Bodobrus Leafturner," retorts the hobbit as the shopkeep cleverly avoids using a name to address him. "You should certainly know my name by now, as I've been shopping here going on thirty years now," he continues, "although I confess I don't normally attend to the shopping myself. My grocer's come down with the flu."
"And I daresay," the halfling goes on without missing a beat, "I'd be surprised if anyone hires you for anything, until you learn some manners that is." Presently he wheels around and stares up at the much taller human expectantly.
The shopkeeper's cheeks redden a little. "Ah, you mean the Leafturner order! I should have that right ... here." He bobs up again, this time a musty-looking ledger in his hand. "Leafturner, Leafturner. Now, let me see ... Ah, James. Put that crate of turnips somewhere, please. And look sharp - there's a customer to serve."
The swarthy fellow completely ignores the request for manners. He watches the shopkeeper expectantly, as though awaiting a response - when none comes, he turns his attention to the struggling James. "Here?" he suggests, indicating the shelf he's standing beside.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] If his reaction is to be any indication, Lodobrus isn't used to being ignored, as it has visible effects on his countenance as well as his manner of speaking, the latter of which becoming even more pointed and gruff (if that's possible). "I say, I had no idea you allowed such -uncouth- folk to patronize your establishment," the wealthy hobbit says to the proprietor, shaking his head slowly as he speaks. "Enough of this tomfoolery--shall I pay you now or will you charge my account?"
The shopkeeper shakes his head knowingly at Lodobrus' words. "Ah, but these are hard times. Can't turn away custom, you know, Mister Leafturner," he mutters placatingly to the older hobbit. "And I can put it on your account, Mister, seeing you're a regular and all tha-"
James, sweating and puffing, is only too glad of somewhere to lay his burden down. Belatedly, the shopkeeper becomes aware of what he's doing and looks up in alarm. "No! Don't-" But it is too late. With a tearing sound, the rickety shelf pulls loose from its bracket and turnips topple in all directions. The swarthy stranger has just been standing innocently by, ignoring the Little Folk's hints now he reaches out a hand to help right the tipped crate.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "Do it, then," Lodobrus commands without a hint of politeness and wheels around as if he's ready to leave. His b-line for the door comes to an abrupt halt when the shelf falls and his turnips go tumbling onto to floor. "Well!" he exclaims, producing a hankerchief from inside his waistcoat and dabbing about his brow with it. "I suppose I -won't- be purchasing -those- turnips afterall," he says, waving a hand dismissively at the shopkeeper and flinging the door open and then shut again without a word. Finally, the grumpy old hobbit is gone.
A single turnip rolls out into the street after Lodobrus as the shopkeeper stares after him, an appalled expression on his round face, wincing as the door bangs. "Have a nice day, gentlehobbit!" he calls after, mopping his brow.
Poor James is now scarlet. "I didn't think, Mister Longholes," he wails.
"I can see that," retorts the shopkeeper, shaking his head. "Now clear all those up double-quick. And as for you," his gaze fixes balefully on the foreigner.
"I'll help," the man volunteers, shrugging as he stoops to pick up a couple of turnips. "And then I'll fix up those shelves for you. Two coppers a shelf for the labour, plus the cost of wood."
The shopkeeper, biting back a response, watches proceedings in grim silence. It will be a long, trying day ...
The spacious general store has creaking wooden floors, and a slightly musty smell. There are several spots on the wall now devoid of paint where shelves were hung. Many shelves still remain but most of the goods are displayed on various tables, in barrels, and on racks. A large counter lines the wall closest to the door. Along one wall is a small bookcase lined with a few books, all looking extremely old and dusty. A portion of space in the middle of the store contains tables with a few pelts, sharpening stones, pipes, etc. A glimpse at the back of the store reveals a group of barrels and coils of rope.
Obvious exits:
Out
================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Fri Mar 12 23:58:48 2010
Bree time: Early morning on Trewsday of Spring - May 30,1449
Moon Phase: Waxing Gibbous Moon
Breelands Weather
The early morning spring air is cool but pleasant around you. The sky is clear and the moon shines brightly.
===============================================================================
[Lodobrus(#16042)] The sun has just begun to peek over the top of Bree Hill, and as usual its arrival has set in motion a flurry of activity in the markets of the town. Carriages race to and fro while harried-looking messenger hobbits dash between them toting various and sundry paperwork--all amongst the everyday bustle of the area caused by pipe-weed vendors, produce salesmen, rope-weavers and every other manner of merchant one can think of.
In stark contrast with the fast-paced nature of the area, a particularly old-looking hobbit makes his way across town leisurely and deliberately, seemingly oblivious to the inconvenience he causes those who are obviously in a hurry. One such busybody presently stops his carriage suddenly and veers sharply to the right, only narrowly missing the elderly halfling. "Get out of the way!" yells the driver as he continues on.
"Why don't you slow down, you nuisance!" he responds, shaking a fist at the passing carriage menacingly before ducking into the General Store.
The tall, lanky fellow strolling through the market appears to be in no hurry. He meanders through the crowd, stopping once to look at a handbarrow full of fresh produce ("/How/ much? I could buy my own thrall to grow it for that!"). As the cart rushes past he looks after it, shaking his head. "Wheel's going to come off if you go at that speed," he yells after it. "I can fix it for you at a good price." Then, snorting as said cart clatters away, he too heads into the store. He swings the door open with a hefty, jarring shove - not bothering to worry about whether there might be anyone behind it.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] Naturally, the man's abrupt entry into the store jars the slow-moving hobbit forward, sending him stumbling inside without warning and into the side of another man inside. "Ahem! Excuse me!" he says with a tone and demeanor that suggests the statement wasn't meant for the person he ran into.
"Yes, that's right, ex-cuse- me," he tells the man who entered behind him, his voice gravelly and altogether unpleasant. "Just where on Bree Hill do you think you're going in such a hurry?"
"You're excused," the swarthy-looking fellow who'd swung the door open tells Lodobrus in sing-song Common, a corner of his mouth twitching. "And - here? Good strong door, that." He sounds almost disappointed.
The man Lodobrus had bumped into turns round, looking annoyed, but the 'apology' is accepted with a nod. He glances back round the shop. "Uh - Mr Longholes? There's /folk/ here."
At first he might seem to be talking to thin air. But then a curly head pops up as a harassed-looking middle-aged hobbit looks up from the box he'd been rummaging in. "We're not open yet," he says pointedly to his trio of would-be customers. "Didn't you see the sign on the door? Staff training, you know ..."
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "Yes, a strong door indeed--and I should say I know better than most. In fact, we're quite well-acquainted," says the hobbit, rubbing his posterior with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyhow--" he begins again, but is interupted by the shop-keeping hobbit.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean!" he tells the proprietor, doddering toward the counter that separates owner from customer. "I don't believe I've been to a shop that left the door open when it wasn't accepting customers--a curious business practice, to be sure."
Lodobrus' comment is greeted by a chuckle from the swarthy stranger as he steps further into the shop - not a particularly nice one.
The shopkeeper dusts down his hands on his apron before glancing in the direction of the door. "Open," he says importantly, "to allow ingress and egress of goods. James, my good fellow, go and get that last crate of turnips, will you?"
The hulking young man Lodobrus had bumped into leaves off gawping and heads out (leaving the door wide open behind him, naturally).
The shopkeeper shakes his head. "New," he comments softly to Lodobrus. "Hired help, my usual's off sick. Like I said, staff training." He looks the elderly hobbit up and down then seems to come to a decision. "You're welcome to browse for a few minutes until we're ready to serve you, my good gentlehobbit." His gaze shifts to the other intruder, the Big Person, and his polite smile fades.
The swarthy man gives him a level look. "Didn't see any sign," he assures the shopkeeper solemnly. "'Sides, I'm not here to buy."
Lodobrus seems pleased with the shop-keeper's attitude, and re-directs his usual charms in the foreigner's direction. "Of -course- not--just here to push elderly hobbits out of the way, then?" he asks with an expression that suggests he doesn't really want an answer. True to form, he doesn't wait for one, opting instead to puruse the selection of goods offered by the shop. "I have quite a large order," the hobbit begins, seemingly ignorant of the shop-keeper's insistance that he only look, "and I'll need it delivered."
That request of Lodobrus' sets the shopkeeper fidgeting again. "I ... ah, I suppose I could send James round with it," he concedes at last, his gaze darting round the store. What sort of goods was it, Mister ...?" He lets the words trail off into a question. "And I'm afraid we don't entertain timewasters." His voice sharpens as he notes that the other, the Big Person is still here.
The swarthy fellow doesn 't quail under the hobbit-stares doesn't even flinch. "I can do that for free, if you like," he tells Lodobrus, a note of mockery in his sing-song speech. "But I'm here to offer my services. Figure they're needed." He glances round the shop and snorts.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "I'll need twenty-five beeswax candles, ten baskets, three cloaks, a bushel of carrots, thirty-five feet of rope," Lodobrus rattles off before the shop-keeper has a chance finish speaking, "and two bushels of turnips, preferably of the variety grown in Archet if you have them."
Seemingly satisfied, he wheels around to face the foreigner and regards him with a contemptuous expression. "Can you apologize for free aswell?" he asks, sarcasm dripping from the words.
"I - ah, I'm afraid we're not looking to take on more staff at present," the shopkeeper tells the swarthy fellow, for all he'd confessed to being shorthanded a little earlier. As Lodobrus reels off his list he looks flustered. "Just a moment, Mr - my good gentlehobbit," he amends when the realization he still has no name for his customer comes. "Not so fast! Now, where did I put that paper?" He ducks down to the box he'd been rummaging in.
The foreigner looks down at Lodobrus. "No, that costs you," he answers, deadpan. "Ten coppers a time." At the shopkeeper's response he snorts. "Kiern! Wasn't offering to fetch and carry. Some fellow in the market said you needed a carpenter. See he was right, too. Look at the state of yon shelves." He moves over to one.
It is at this point that the young man James staggers back through the door, a huge crate of turnips in his arms. Lodobrus will have at least one of the items in his order today ...
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "Lodobrus. Lodobrus Leafturner, son of Bodobrus Leafturner," retorts the hobbit as the shopkeep cleverly avoids using a name to address him. "You should certainly know my name by now, as I've been shopping here going on thirty years now," he continues, "although I confess I don't normally attend to the shopping myself. My grocer's come down with the flu."
"And I daresay," the halfling goes on without missing a beat, "I'd be surprised if anyone hires you for anything, until you learn some manners that is." Presently he wheels around and stares up at the much taller human expectantly.
The shopkeeper's cheeks redden a little. "Ah, you mean the Leafturner order! I should have that right ... here." He bobs up again, this time a musty-looking ledger in his hand. "Leafturner, Leafturner. Now, let me see ... Ah, James. Put that crate of turnips somewhere, please. And look sharp - there's a customer to serve."
The swarthy fellow completely ignores the request for manners. He watches the shopkeeper expectantly, as though awaiting a response - when none comes, he turns his attention to the struggling James. "Here?" he suggests, indicating the shelf he's standing beside.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] If his reaction is to be any indication, Lodobrus isn't used to being ignored, as it has visible effects on his countenance as well as his manner of speaking, the latter of which becoming even more pointed and gruff (if that's possible). "I say, I had no idea you allowed such -uncouth- folk to patronize your establishment," the wealthy hobbit says to the proprietor, shaking his head slowly as he speaks. "Enough of this tomfoolery--shall I pay you now or will you charge my account?"
The shopkeeper shakes his head knowingly at Lodobrus' words. "Ah, but these are hard times. Can't turn away custom, you know, Mister Leafturner," he mutters placatingly to the older hobbit. "And I can put it on your account, Mister, seeing you're a regular and all tha-"
James, sweating and puffing, is only too glad of somewhere to lay his burden down. Belatedly, the shopkeeper becomes aware of what he's doing and looks up in alarm. "No! Don't-" But it is too late. With a tearing sound, the rickety shelf pulls loose from its bracket and turnips topple in all directions. The swarthy stranger has just been standing innocently by, ignoring the Little Folk's hints now he reaches out a hand to help right the tipped crate.
[Lodobrus(#16042)] "Do it, then," Lodobrus commands without a hint of politeness and wheels around as if he's ready to leave. His b-line for the door comes to an abrupt halt when the shelf falls and his turnips go tumbling onto to floor. "Well!" he exclaims, producing a hankerchief from inside his waistcoat and dabbing about his brow with it. "I suppose I -won't- be purchasing -those- turnips afterall," he says, waving a hand dismissively at the shopkeeper and flinging the door open and then shut again without a word. Finally, the grumpy old hobbit is gone.
A single turnip rolls out into the street after Lodobrus as the shopkeeper stares after him, an appalled expression on his round face, wincing as the door bangs. "Have a nice day, gentlehobbit!" he calls after, mopping his brow.
Poor James is now scarlet. "I didn't think, Mister Longholes," he wails.
"I can see that," retorts the shopkeeper, shaking his head. "Now clear all those up double-quick. And as for you," his gaze fixes balefully on the foreigner.
"I'll help," the man volunteers, shrugging as he stoops to pick up a couple of turnips. "And then I'll fix up those shelves for you. Two coppers a shelf for the labour, plus the cost of wood."
The shopkeeper, biting back a response, watches proceedings in grim silence. It will be a long, trying day ...
Players: Lodobrus, Brev
Located in: Breefolk | Dunlending
