Elendor
In search of the past: Trading words
Irin and Brev's discussion of trade is interrupted by an incoherent stranger. There's a nice trade-off for Irin.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shepherding village
Game Date: April 3047
IC Time: Morning
Description: Shepherding Village
This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road. There are many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here, safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with thorn bushes ... and the gate to the village is by a removable walkway over that ditch. Clearly the possibility of attack, whether from trolls or something worse, has not been ignored.
A long, low, whitewashed building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. The thatched roof spills down to the tops of its lead-paned windows, thick glass aglow with firelight.
Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Wed Jun 24 22:47:42 2009
IC weather is: Wind: breeze - Clouds: clear
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Late Night
IC date is: Sterday, Day 8 of April in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
Dawn breaks over the Shepherding Village. A long, low bar of primrose yellow stretches over the forest to the east beneath a swathe of tattered clouds. Small birds hop and flit amidst the thornbrush that surrounds the untidy cluster of houses and barns. From somewhere comes the soft sound of sheep bleating - altogether a pleasant, pastoral scene.
Few folk are up and about as yet, but one who is emerges from the direction of the caravanserai, yawning slightly as he squints toward the rising sun. A young man, with a head of untidy dark curls and an equally untidy growth of beard covering his chin. He carries an empty bucket, which he swings nonchalantly as he goes.
[Irin(#19030)]
Another, somewhat tall figure wrapped in a dark grey cloak makes his way up to the gathering house at a leisurely pace taking time to look around and absorb the scenery of the morning. As he does so, his eyes pass over the quickly approaching figure coming from the caravanserai, and the redheadded villager almost does a double-take. Perhaps he has not had a chance to see the travellers from Dunland in person? Turning away from the dark-haired visitor, the young man takes a few moments to ponder whether to speak up or not -- although in the end he decides on the former. "You're part of the group from Bree, aren't ye?" He speaks in a neutral, non-threatening tone.
"Huh?" The fellow with the dark curls, Brev, stops in his tracks, turning, and looks the redheaded speaker up and down. The other man has a few inches height advantage over him, but perhaps it is not that alone that makes his eyes narrow. The bucket, no longer swinging, is transferred to his left hand, whilst his right brushes against his dagger. "Came through there," he responds in sing-song Common, keeping his own voice level, though unable to quite keep the rough edgee from it. He tosses in a question of his own: "You're kin to that F- that other woman? Muirgheal?" The name falls easily from his lips, but his features twist into a sudden scowl.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Muirgheal?" Irin's blue eyes wander off into the distance for a moment, as if he must try to link that name up to a familiar face. "Hm. The name rings a bell -- might've run into her once, a long time ago. No, I'm not related to her, if that's what you're asking," the young man responds curtly, his eyes focusing back on the foreigner. Something about his accent might give hint as to his origins his speech is not like that of the Forgoil, or of the Breelanders, either. A careful glance is given to Breveg's dagger as he appears to brush his hand over it, and Irin's expression becomes slightly more inquisitive. "Why do you ask? Have you seen her lately?" He grins.
Brev, alas, is not well travelled - yet, at any rate. He notes the grin, and his scowl deepens. "Once was one time too many," he responds sourly. "Though I'm sure she knows where I am if she gets the hankering to play with knives again." The scowl is replaced by a lopsided smirk.
That subject dealt with, it's back to present company, and he looks the young man before him up and down for a second time, a faint line creasing his brow at the sight of the odd boots. "What were you wanting?" he asks bluntly. "News of Bree? They don't /have/ news round there." And he snorts.
[Irin(#19030)]
"I imagine it was," Irin responds to the other man's comments on Muirgheal. "She quite a stubborn-headed woman" he adds, before finally dropping the subject. The young - almost teenage - man, mirrors the movements of Brev and glances down at his boots, as if to see what is wrong with them. "I was just curious.. it's not often that there's such a large group of foreigners here. Usually only see small groups travelling through, but not whole encampments." He pauses, and lifts his gaze back up to the Dunlending. "If I might be so bold to ask -- what business do you have here?"
The yellow bar to the east that signifies the dawn is flushing and deepening to a pure, liquid gold, and the sun's first rays slant across the faces of the two young men who stand talking within the still-quiet Shepherding village.
The swarthy fellow with the dark curls, Brev, starts swinging the empty bucket in his left hand gently. As he looks up towards Irin's face again, his own expression is guarded, wary - and yes, his gaze does not linger on those uncannily blue eyes. "Oh, there's a lot more of us back home, I promise you," he responds to the question, smirking slightly. "As to our business - we're just passing through. Going where the road takes us. What's yours?" A slight note of challenge creeps into his voice at the last words.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Going where the road takes you?" The young man does a half-smirk as he echoes Brev's response. "Oh really now -- that's not the real reason." His tone is still light and pleasant perhaps suspiciously too friendly, especially for an inhabitant of this region. "I live here," he finally adds, with a quick glance around the viscinity. "Been here for quite a while. I came from Archet, though, originally," he fabricates this perhaps to give Brev less reason to be hostile. "I'm a woodcutter, in case you're wondering." There is another pause, and the redhead returns and equally challenging question "It seems to me that you're a bit.. hostile, for some reason. Why is that, exactly?"
Brev's eyebrows arch a little at that first challenge. "It's as good a reason as I give to anyone I don't know," he responds, his own tone equally light, but his eyes narrowed. "As to the other - last person I met who looked something like you pulled a knife on me. It never hurts to be careful, does it? Though I suppose Cordy's been friendly enough. Or whatever you folk call her - don't go in for nice easy names, do you?"
Something of the hostility fades, and the reason for this is perhaps apparent in his next words. "Do a bit of carpentry myself, sometimes," he admits grudgingly. "Know of anyone with any jobs needing done?" Ah, the uncomfortable feeling of having to ask strangers for work.
[Irin(#19030)]
Finally, Irin seems to be earning the other man's trust - for better or for worse. "Looked like me?" The acne-ridden young man appears almost genuinely confused at this. "Hmm.. no, I've been looking for someone to offer me some work, as well. Haven't had any luck, though. I was just on my way to ask the innkeeper at the Gathering House sometimes he has jobs for me." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I wish I could help, but I'd suggest you ask around." He pauses, and lowers his gaze towards the ground distractedly, and then back up towards the caravenserai. "I imagine you need some new supplies?"
Supplies? Brev twitches slightly. "We could do with a little of this and that," he concedes. "So you can tell whoever deals in such things we're interested in trading. Did you have anything particular to offer?" Well, perhaps trust is too strong a word - he's no longer fingering his knife-hilt, at least. The empty bucket still swings gently in his left hand.
[Logoz(#19187)]
It is then that a tall figure hoves into view a shabby looking fellow wearing threadbare clothing and a nervous grin. Coming into the village from the blockaded gate, he glances around anxiously until his eyes find Brev and Irin.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Well.. do you need anything in particular?" Irin asks, apparently wanting something more specific than 'this and that'. "All I have right now, really, is this axe." And he then brushes aside the grey fabric, his cloak, to reveal a medium-sized axe suitable for woodcutting. "Not worth much, really." Just then, the young man's attention is stolen by the approaching figure sporting a nervous grin. He offers a blink, but says nothing yet, as the the newcomer seems to be out of earshot at the moment.
Brev's gaze drops to view the axe. "All?" he repeats, one brow lifting slightly. "Well, I hardly imagine you'd sell your only good weapon." His tone is dry, and the corners of his mouth twitch as though in private amusement at something. "Besides, I believe we're quite well supplied on that front." The twitching of his lips becomes a slight smile. "We need grain - or flour, and dried foodstuffs. Things we can't obtain by hunting."
Noting the diverting of Irin's attention, he too peers toward the shabbily dressed figure, and he looks the man calmly up and down.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Looking shiftily from side to side, the dishevelled fellow stirs then, walking timidly towards the others. Drawing closer it might be seen that his eyes bear a hollow quality his features drawn and haggard from some unknown trauma. "Are.. are you the folks what live here?" he asks quietly.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Aye," comes Irin's response to the dishevelled-looking man. His expression turns slightly suspicious, and he looks the other dark-haired man up and down. "Do you need anything?" Again, Irin returns to a neutral and emotionless tone his features visibly relaxing. "I have a large sack of flour -- about ten pounds of it. Think that'd be useful?" He smiles just slightly, glancing back towards Brev for a moment.
"No." Brev responds flatly to the newcomer. "I'm .. just passing through. Looking for something?" The man's jumpy behaviour does not pass him by, for his hand strays back toward his dagger-hilt.
At Irin's query, he answers coolly, "Could be. What would you take for it? Like I said, I've skills in carpentry to offer - or a couple of our party have furs to trade."
[Logoz(#19187)]
"Wh-where are they all?" asks the newcomer then, and he stumbles a pace as he approaches. "I need some help... the road..." he begins and turns with empty movements to point northward. "The road is not safe. Something's out there, in the dark.."
[Irin(#19030)]
Irin retains a calm demeanor, despite the newcomers' slightly odd behaviour. He takes a step or two forward, and begins to step away towards the traumatized man, with an arched eyebrow as he goes on with his description of the road. "Orcs?" He questions, once more examining the man for injuries. "What did you see?" Perhaps subconsciously, the young man reaches for the weapon at his side with his right arm. Apparently Breveg has been all but forgotten for now this newcomer seems a much more interesting distraction.
[Logoz(#19187)]
A nod is the answer, and the man looks back to Irin, before falling to his knees. "So many of them.. so cold..." he says crypticly, and lowers his gaze to the ground. "They took Tomlin."
This said the man pitches forward, falling face first into the dirt from exhaustion.
"The road's not safe," Brev agrees calmly. "All sorts of troubles - goblins, bandits ..." He lets the words trail off suggestively, but at the man's collapse he shrugs. "Suppose he can't be too much of a danger in that state. Want to carry him somewhere? I'll let the folks down there," he jerks his head at the Gathering House, know.
Returning to the earlier topic of conversation, he offers to Irin as he turns, "I'll take the flour provided it's of suitable quality and we can agree on a trade. Let me know which you'd prefer - furs or work done, eh?"
With that he's off, swinging his empty bucket as he goes.
[Irin(#19030)]
The redheaded man stares, almost awestruck, at the fellow before him, and merely watches as he collapses to the ground. Shrugging once, he nods to Brev's words, "Alright - I'll have a think about it." Once the foreigner is gone and out of view, the redhead leans down towards the fallen man, and begins to cart him off closer to the side of the road, but not without a stealthy maneuvre to check the contents of the man's pockets if he has any.
This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road. There are many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here, safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with thorn bushes ... and the gate to the village is by a removable walkway over that ditch. Clearly the possibility of attack, whether from trolls or something worse, has not been ignored.
A long, low, whitewashed building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. The thatched roof spills down to the tops of its lead-paned windows, thick glass aglow with firelight.
Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road
===============================================================================
Dunland Time and Weather Forecast
===============================================================================
Real Time is: Wed Jun 24 22:47:42 2009
IC weather is: Wind: breeze - Clouds: clear
IC Moon is: Not visible
IC time is: Late Night
IC date is: Sterday, Day 8 of April in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
Dawn breaks over the Shepherding Village. A long, low bar of primrose yellow stretches over the forest to the east beneath a swathe of tattered clouds. Small birds hop and flit amidst the thornbrush that surrounds the untidy cluster of houses and barns. From somewhere comes the soft sound of sheep bleating - altogether a pleasant, pastoral scene.
Few folk are up and about as yet, but one who is emerges from the direction of the caravanserai, yawning slightly as he squints toward the rising sun. A young man, with a head of untidy dark curls and an equally untidy growth of beard covering his chin. He carries an empty bucket, which he swings nonchalantly as he goes.
[Irin(#19030)]
Another, somewhat tall figure wrapped in a dark grey cloak makes his way up to the gathering house at a leisurely pace taking time to look around and absorb the scenery of the morning. As he does so, his eyes pass over the quickly approaching figure coming from the caravanserai, and the redheadded villager almost does a double-take. Perhaps he has not had a chance to see the travellers from Dunland in person? Turning away from the dark-haired visitor, the young man takes a few moments to ponder whether to speak up or not -- although in the end he decides on the former. "You're part of the group from Bree, aren't ye?" He speaks in a neutral, non-threatening tone.
"Huh?" The fellow with the dark curls, Brev, stops in his tracks, turning, and looks the redheaded speaker up and down. The other man has a few inches height advantage over him, but perhaps it is not that alone that makes his eyes narrow. The bucket, no longer swinging, is transferred to his left hand, whilst his right brushes against his dagger. "Came through there," he responds in sing-song Common, keeping his own voice level, though unable to quite keep the rough edgee from it. He tosses in a question of his own: "You're kin to that F- that other woman? Muirgheal?" The name falls easily from his lips, but his features twist into a sudden scowl.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Muirgheal?" Irin's blue eyes wander off into the distance for a moment, as if he must try to link that name up to a familiar face. "Hm. The name rings a bell -- might've run into her once, a long time ago. No, I'm not related to her, if that's what you're asking," the young man responds curtly, his eyes focusing back on the foreigner. Something about his accent might give hint as to his origins his speech is not like that of the Forgoil, or of the Breelanders, either. A careful glance is given to Breveg's dagger as he appears to brush his hand over it, and Irin's expression becomes slightly more inquisitive. "Why do you ask? Have you seen her lately?" He grins.
Brev, alas, is not well travelled - yet, at any rate. He notes the grin, and his scowl deepens. "Once was one time too many," he responds sourly. "Though I'm sure she knows where I am if she gets the hankering to play with knives again." The scowl is replaced by a lopsided smirk.
That subject dealt with, it's back to present company, and he looks the young man before him up and down for a second time, a faint line creasing his brow at the sight of the odd boots. "What were you wanting?" he asks bluntly. "News of Bree? They don't /have/ news round there." And he snorts.
[Irin(#19030)]
"I imagine it was," Irin responds to the other man's comments on Muirgheal. "She quite a stubborn-headed woman" he adds, before finally dropping the subject. The young - almost teenage - man, mirrors the movements of Brev and glances down at his boots, as if to see what is wrong with them. "I was just curious.. it's not often that there's such a large group of foreigners here. Usually only see small groups travelling through, but not whole encampments." He pauses, and lifts his gaze back up to the Dunlending. "If I might be so bold to ask -- what business do you have here?"
The yellow bar to the east that signifies the dawn is flushing and deepening to a pure, liquid gold, and the sun's first rays slant across the faces of the two young men who stand talking within the still-quiet Shepherding village.
The swarthy fellow with the dark curls, Brev, starts swinging the empty bucket in his left hand gently. As he looks up towards Irin's face again, his own expression is guarded, wary - and yes, his gaze does not linger on those uncannily blue eyes. "Oh, there's a lot more of us back home, I promise you," he responds to the question, smirking slightly. "As to our business - we're just passing through. Going where the road takes us. What's yours?" A slight note of challenge creeps into his voice at the last words.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Going where the road takes you?" The young man does a half-smirk as he echoes Brev's response. "Oh really now -- that's not the real reason." His tone is still light and pleasant perhaps suspiciously too friendly, especially for an inhabitant of this region. "I live here," he finally adds, with a quick glance around the viscinity. "Been here for quite a while. I came from Archet, though, originally," he fabricates this perhaps to give Brev less reason to be hostile. "I'm a woodcutter, in case you're wondering." There is another pause, and the redhead returns and equally challenging question "It seems to me that you're a bit.. hostile, for some reason. Why is that, exactly?"
Brev's eyebrows arch a little at that first challenge. "It's as good a reason as I give to anyone I don't know," he responds, his own tone equally light, but his eyes narrowed. "As to the other - last person I met who looked something like you pulled a knife on me. It never hurts to be careful, does it? Though I suppose Cordy's been friendly enough. Or whatever you folk call her - don't go in for nice easy names, do you?"
Something of the hostility fades, and the reason for this is perhaps apparent in his next words. "Do a bit of carpentry myself, sometimes," he admits grudgingly. "Know of anyone with any jobs needing done?" Ah, the uncomfortable feeling of having to ask strangers for work.
[Irin(#19030)]
Finally, Irin seems to be earning the other man's trust - for better or for worse. "Looked like me?" The acne-ridden young man appears almost genuinely confused at this. "Hmm.. no, I've been looking for someone to offer me some work, as well. Haven't had any luck, though. I was just on my way to ask the innkeeper at the Gathering House sometimes he has jobs for me." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I wish I could help, but I'd suggest you ask around." He pauses, and lowers his gaze towards the ground distractedly, and then back up towards the caravenserai. "I imagine you need some new supplies?"
Supplies? Brev twitches slightly. "We could do with a little of this and that," he concedes. "So you can tell whoever deals in such things we're interested in trading. Did you have anything particular to offer?" Well, perhaps trust is too strong a word - he's no longer fingering his knife-hilt, at least. The empty bucket still swings gently in his left hand.
[Logoz(#19187)]
It is then that a tall figure hoves into view a shabby looking fellow wearing threadbare clothing and a nervous grin. Coming into the village from the blockaded gate, he glances around anxiously until his eyes find Brev and Irin.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Well.. do you need anything in particular?" Irin asks, apparently wanting something more specific than 'this and that'. "All I have right now, really, is this axe." And he then brushes aside the grey fabric, his cloak, to reveal a medium-sized axe suitable for woodcutting. "Not worth much, really." Just then, the young man's attention is stolen by the approaching figure sporting a nervous grin. He offers a blink, but says nothing yet, as the the newcomer seems to be out of earshot at the moment.
Brev's gaze drops to view the axe. "All?" he repeats, one brow lifting slightly. "Well, I hardly imagine you'd sell your only good weapon." His tone is dry, and the corners of his mouth twitch as though in private amusement at something. "Besides, I believe we're quite well supplied on that front." The twitching of his lips becomes a slight smile. "We need grain - or flour, and dried foodstuffs. Things we can't obtain by hunting."
Noting the diverting of Irin's attention, he too peers toward the shabbily dressed figure, and he looks the man calmly up and down.
[Logoz(#19187)]
Looking shiftily from side to side, the dishevelled fellow stirs then, walking timidly towards the others. Drawing closer it might be seen that his eyes bear a hollow quality his features drawn and haggard from some unknown trauma. "Are.. are you the folks what live here?" he asks quietly.
[Irin(#19030)]
"Aye," comes Irin's response to the dishevelled-looking man. His expression turns slightly suspicious, and he looks the other dark-haired man up and down. "Do you need anything?" Again, Irin returns to a neutral and emotionless tone his features visibly relaxing. "I have a large sack of flour -- about ten pounds of it. Think that'd be useful?" He smiles just slightly, glancing back towards Brev for a moment.
"No." Brev responds flatly to the newcomer. "I'm .. just passing through. Looking for something?" The man's jumpy behaviour does not pass him by, for his hand strays back toward his dagger-hilt.
At Irin's query, he answers coolly, "Could be. What would you take for it? Like I said, I've skills in carpentry to offer - or a couple of our party have furs to trade."
[Logoz(#19187)]
"Wh-where are they all?" asks the newcomer then, and he stumbles a pace as he approaches. "I need some help... the road..." he begins and turns with empty movements to point northward. "The road is not safe. Something's out there, in the dark.."
[Irin(#19030)]
Irin retains a calm demeanor, despite the newcomers' slightly odd behaviour. He takes a step or two forward, and begins to step away towards the traumatized man, with an arched eyebrow as he goes on with his description of the road. "Orcs?" He questions, once more examining the man for injuries. "What did you see?" Perhaps subconsciously, the young man reaches for the weapon at his side with his right arm. Apparently Breveg has been all but forgotten for now this newcomer seems a much more interesting distraction.
[Logoz(#19187)]
A nod is the answer, and the man looks back to Irin, before falling to his knees. "So many of them.. so cold..." he says crypticly, and lowers his gaze to the ground. "They took Tomlin."
This said the man pitches forward, falling face first into the dirt from exhaustion.
"The road's not safe," Brev agrees calmly. "All sorts of troubles - goblins, bandits ..." He lets the words trail off suggestively, but at the man's collapse he shrugs. "Suppose he can't be too much of a danger in that state. Want to carry him somewhere? I'll let the folks down there," he jerks his head at the Gathering House, know.
Returning to the earlier topic of conversation, he offers to Irin as he turns, "I'll take the flour provided it's of suitable quality and we can agree on a trade. Let me know which you'd prefer - furs or work done, eh?"
With that he's off, swinging his empty bucket as he goes.
[Irin(#19030)]
The redheaded man stares, almost awestruck, at the fellow before him, and merely watches as he collapses to the ground. Shrugging once, he nods to Brev's words, "Alright - I'll have a think about it." Once the foreigner is gone and out of view, the redhead leans down towards the fallen man, and begins to cart him off closer to the side of the road, but not without a stealthy maneuvre to check the contents of the man's pockets if he has any.
Players: Irin, Brev, Lo
Located in: Dunlending | Yfelwydan
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