Elendor
In search of the past: Mine's bigger than yours!
Muirgheal and Brev do /not/ make friends. Cordelia tries to turn peacemaker.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Shepherding Village
Game Date: March 3047
IC Time: Evening
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 17 14:16:11 2009
IC weather is: Wind: - Clouds: dense
IC Moon is: Waxing crescent
IC time is: Evening
IC date is: Highday, Day 16 of March in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Early evening is about to settle in around the Shepherding Village, with the sun barely visible above the horizon yet. A cool breeze more reminiscent of winter is picking up now, tossing the branches of the few budding trees. Most of the village children have been sent inside to avoid catching a chill, while their parents finish up duties with animals and their lands. Several yards away from a small but warmly lit house, a tall, thin young woman is grooming a horse with a shining black coat. Her long blonde hair tumbles down to her waist in waves, unbound and slipping over her shoulders every once in a while as she works the brush expertly through the horse's mane. Sometimes, when she bends to run the brush down the mare's neck, the hilt of a long knife sheathed on her back peeks out from her pale hair.
And while Muirgheal works, the mare looks this way and that, a gleam of something intelligent behind the animal's eyes she appears to be keeping an eye on the two tawny-haired toddlers who play nearby, small cloaks clasped around their shoulders, the hoods drawn up to keep them warm.
It's early yet for travel, and the group that has wandered in only that afternoon has said little of their journey or its purpose - after grudging payment of the fee most of them are busy setting up camp as far away from the rest of the village as possible. One, though, a swarthy-skinned young man distinguished from the rest mainly by the fact that his patched and worn cloak is dun-hued rather than grey, is now wandering toward the welcoming lights of the houses. At the sight of the blonde woman his hand drops automatically to his dagger-hilt, but after a few moments he shrugs and after turning his head to spit he walks tensely on. "You." Is he talking to Muirgheal? There's noone else except her and her children within hailing range.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal lifts her head slightly as she hears a voice, and turns. Her eyes- so dark one might call them 'obsidian'- look hard at the man who spoke, and then she straightens up to her full height and turns to fully face him. Arms automatically cross over her chest, and she casually drops the brush it's hard to look formidable when holding a grooming tool. "I bet your mother taught you how to speak better than that," Muirgheal says coolly.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] The little girl playing nearby, much more vocal than her brother, also speaks to the stranger who just spit. "HI!" she calls out loudly and brightly, a smile from ear to ear at the sight of a new face. The little boy doesn't pay as much attention as his sister to the man.
At that the man snorts. "Didn't teach me to speak this tongue at all, let alone to some .. Forgoil." After the single word in a foreign tongue, he returns to the Common. "Whose thrall are you, woman?" He gives no visible reaction to Muirgheal's threatening stance.
And the child? The pretty, tawny-haired little girl? When he looks round to take notice of her, he mutters merely, "Kiern!" and then looks away, scowling.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Muirgheal!" It's the sound of another woman's voice, coming into view shortly, carrying a load of firewood. Only this woman, Cordelia, is not so tall and her hair, which falls freely down her shoulders and over her grey wool cloak, is night-black. Her eyes have just the hint of a slant of the East to them. She stops dead in her tracks as she sees Brev.
"Who are you?" she demands.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal smiles at that name, though it's not at all friendly. "There's something I haven't been called in...eight years? Ten? I've not missed it." She already looked less than charitable toward the stranger now, her dark eyes are livid. "I am Muirgheal, and I live here with my husband. And I won't answer another question to such a rude son of a-" She may be pretty, but she's got quite a mouth on her- though her sentence never does get finished. Instead, she narrows her eyes and inclines her head toward her daughter. "You don't look at them," she says of the children tensely. Cordelia's presence gets a flicker of her gaze, but she's too cautious, watching the stranger, to really speak with her friend yet.
The man, Brev, looks automatically to the newcomer, and at the sight of her colouring and features - safely dark, if a touch exotic - the hostility that had been in his eyes as he stared at Muirgheal fades, replaced by neutrality and perhaps a hint of curiosity. "A traveller," he replies, in Common that is sing-song but perfectly clear. "Looking for a few people. Quite a few, in fact." He smirks. "Want a li-"
The words break off as Muirgheal's angered words penetrate, and he twists round to stare, aghast. "You? You're the one they claimed was friends with Uannve, the one who was supposed to know where she'd gone? Kiern, the woman must have been desperate if she took up with Forgoil." At that thought his face hardens, though his horrified scrutiny of Muirgheal does not abate.
As for looking at the children? They, it seems, are completely forgotten for the moment.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Trouble?" Cordelia asks, her brows creasing into a frown as she listens to this exchange of words. The firewood is set down where she stands, and she steps forward, coming closer--but not too close--to the stranger, forming a little triangle with him and Muirgheal. "What's a Forgoil? And why does it sound as if you are insulting my friend? You may want to think twice about that, sir," she grins. "I can show you a scar from her sword-work to emphasize my point if you'd like."
[Muirgheal(#32535)] The first thing Muirgheal deals with is her children, though the stranger may have forgotten them. "Caoimhe, Elfaroth go inside now, please." She says quickly, perhaps a little sharply. Still, the twins comply, and vanish from sight into the nearest house.
"Uannve?" There's a name Muirgheal hasn't heard in a while, either. Simply saying it softens her eyes and mouth as though with some pang of longing. Looking at Brev, however, her expression hardens again. "I loved her. But she may well be dead, for all I know anymore." The stranger is able to get that much out of her before Muirgheal draws a smaller dagger from a sheath at her arm. "Who wants to know where Uannve is, boy?"
Muirgheal's dark eyes quickly chase to Cordelia, and for the first time, the woman gives a genuine smile. "I'm glad you're here," she says to the dark-haired woman, then explaining, "That word he used...he's talking about the color of my hair. It's very much an insult, a childish one. If he is foolish enough to say it again, I'd suggest you show him your scar."
Brev answers Cordelia's question with a jerk of the head. "She is. Hair like straw," he pulls at one of his own dark curls as if for emphasis, "most of them have blue eyes. A faithless folk, can't trust them."
At Muirgheal's first words one brow raises, though he says no more until she is finished, grinning slightly at the 'boy'. "Name's Brev. Doubt she'd know it," and there he shrugs. "But she and I have an acquaintance in common, and I want to know where he is. If you see her, you ask her if she remembers Barseg." His voice hardens fit to match Muirgheal's.
He eyes the drawn knife warily, and keeps his own hand resting on his dagger hilt. "If you have a hankering for scars, it might be best to step outside the gates. Or do you folk make a habit of knifing each other in the street? Oh, and I'll take a look at that scar any time," he tosses back the final words in Cordelia's direction, flashing her a grin without actually taking his eyes of Muirgheal, the more obvious threat.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Don't get your hopes up, boy, nor anything else, lest it get cut off," Cordelia sneers. "If you see my scar, it might also be the last thing you see before I slit your throat."
"But you're right--it's not polite to greet strangers by threatening to spill their blood. So why are you seeking Uannve. And who is this Barseg? An old acquaintance? Why is he seeking her?"
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal speaks to Brev again, her voice still hard, but this time the words come in a different tongue. She slips comfortably into Dunael to say, "Answer my friend's questions, or you'll have to play with me." She waves the knife back and forth by flicking her wrist. "Uannve's whereabouts are not your concern." After that, she switches back to Common to explain, "Dunland was -my- home too, boy. That's why my eyes are dark. It's where my mother came from, and I earned my first scars there."
Brev snorts at Cordelia's first words. "Kiern! It was you who offered, woman. Fine then, your loss." He smirks briefly in her direction, though it quickly fades at Muirgheal's next words.
He, too, slips into the guttural speech of Dunland."Play with you? I'd love to." Suddenly his dagger is in his hand and not at his belt, held comfortably and with an ease that speaks of practice, as does the carefully balanced stance as he watches Muirgheal's dagger-hand and, most of all, her eyes. "You can leave your friend to play with my friends." He jerks his head in the general direction of the distant caravanserai.
Questions, alas, are dismissed in favour of matters of greater urgency.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Muir..." Cordelia says hesitantly..."I should sound the alarm...this might be too much even for you.." Under her cloak, her hand has reached for her own dagger, which she now holds out menancingly toward the man. "Besides, I'm much better wtih a dagger than you are...you ought to go run and get your sword."
Though Cordelia's eyes flick briefly to Muirgheal as the woman babbles in a foreign tongue--and though she sneers to the man's comments--all thought of discussion is forgotten as things seem to be coming to a fight.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "You aren't fit to mention Kiern's name," Muirgheal says, switching to Dunael again to address the stranger. "This child isn't too much for me," she tells Cordelia in Common, calmly. "I've fought a band of uruk-hai alone. Can this be worse? He likely has no craving to eat me when he's through." The blonde shrugs, and taps the scabbard hanging down at her side. "No need my sword is here." And just like that, the small knife is put back into the sheath on her arm in favor of a long sword that gleams in the fading sunlight once drawn. Muirgheal gives Brev a haughty look, as though it may make him rethink a brawl with her.
Brev's head tilts briefly toward Cordelia, without his gaze leaving Muirgheal's. "For what?" he snaps. "She wants to play with knives, she can play with knives. If she's tough as as she acts, she hardly needs your help to hack up every passing stranger without reason. Oh, and my death will profit you little. Our folk don't carry gold. Ask her, she knows."
The anger fades somewhat at the sight of Muirgheal's sword. "Changed your mind about that dagger?" he demands. "Scared it might actually have been a fair fight?" He continues to maintain his air of unconcern ... except for one thing. A muscle has started jumping in his left cheek.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Now come, both of you," Cordelia says, "Take a step back from this. Words have been passed, but surely there's no need for blood to be shed?" This from a Mordain spy..... "What is it going to accomplish, after all?" She does not sheath her own dagger, however.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "Playing peacekeeper, Cordelia?" Muirgheal asks, not unkindly at all, mild surprise in her voice. However, Muirgheal's dark eyes remain steadily fixed on the stranger, and a wolfish grin is given to him when she notices the twitch that betrays his words. "First, I don't fight fair. How else would a Forgoil have walked out of Dunland alive? And does it matter who's scared, when I'm the one with the bigger weapon and the better skills?" Muirgheal shrugs. "I'm not the one taunting instead of attacking. I'm wide open.." the blonde spreads her arms, though one holds the sword aloft tightly.
"No idea," Brev tosses back in Cordelia's direction, his mouth set in a thin line. "But I don't take kindly to being threatened. And I don't answer questions at knife-point - or sword-point, come to that." He declines to mention the fact that his more usual response might consist of running in the opposite direction. He is lightly built, and does not have any visible scars.
Muirgheal's invitation is not taken at face value instead the man mutters, keeping to the Common, "Kiern, woman, you're the one whose lusting for blood. I've no reason to attack you - doesn't mean I'll hang back like a sheep waiting for the slaughter." He shifts position a little, as though testing his balance and quickness.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Why not?" Cordelia shrugs at Muirgheal's response. "If we all agree to put up our blades..? After all, he has his friends over there." A nod of her head indicates the dozen or so of Brev's compatriots. "By the time I raise help in the village..." She grimaces.
"So...it is a better strategy to let the mutual insults pass. I am not For..erm..blonde. So perhaps instead of blood, this stranger will join me for an ale instead, and we can talk over our differences? If you are from Dunland, as it seems, I'm eager for news from that direction." For some reason.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "You're not worth it I'd rather go fix my children's dinner. Cordelia, you ought to come see Rhifaroth and I when you've finished your...chatting, here." Muirgheal sheaths the sword and turns on her heels, blonde hair swirling. The mare she had been grooming steps along daintily at her side as they head toward the house, breaking off from the woman to go graze. Muirgheal lingers in the doorway of her house a moment, watching the stranger. "Uannve is none of your concern," she calls out, a soft afterthought in Dunael, perhaps unable to be heard.
To Cordelia's words, Brev replies levelly, "Depends if that's at knifepoint too." His tone is cool, though his cheek is still twitching a little.
He does not sheath his dagger as he watches Muirgheal leave, and one brow arches as the soft words in Dunael drift back - clearly he has caught enough of the speech to make something of it.
Once she's out of sight, he looks back to Cordelia. "Need to finish setting up camp. If you do want news of Dunland ... well, you know where to find me. If you come without a dagger in your hand, I might even talk to you. If not .. well. I'm quite partial to my throat as it is, thank you." He gives her a rather strained wink, and starts walking lightly away. Once he's put a reasonable distance between them, he will resheath his dagger.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
Cordelia's laughter drifts back toward Brev as the man walks away, as she sheaths her dagger. "You will find," she calls to him, "that I am far more reasonable than my...Forgoil?...friend. Nor am I stupid enough to come with a knife into your encampment of friends. But..." she shrugs, turning away now, back toward Muirgheal's house, "we will see about that talk later."
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 17 14:16:11 2009
IC weather is: Wind: - Clouds: dense
IC Moon is: Waxing crescent
IC time is: Evening
IC date is: Highday, Day 16 of March in the year 3047.
===============================================================================
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Early evening is about to settle in around the Shepherding Village, with the sun barely visible above the horizon yet. A cool breeze more reminiscent of winter is picking up now, tossing the branches of the few budding trees. Most of the village children have been sent inside to avoid catching a chill, while their parents finish up duties with animals and their lands. Several yards away from a small but warmly lit house, a tall, thin young woman is grooming a horse with a shining black coat. Her long blonde hair tumbles down to her waist in waves, unbound and slipping over her shoulders every once in a while as she works the brush expertly through the horse's mane. Sometimes, when she bends to run the brush down the mare's neck, the hilt of a long knife sheathed on her back peeks out from her pale hair.
And while Muirgheal works, the mare looks this way and that, a gleam of something intelligent behind the animal's eyes she appears to be keeping an eye on the two tawny-haired toddlers who play nearby, small cloaks clasped around their shoulders, the hoods drawn up to keep them warm.
It's early yet for travel, and the group that has wandered in only that afternoon has said little of their journey or its purpose - after grudging payment of the fee most of them are busy setting up camp as far away from the rest of the village as possible. One, though, a swarthy-skinned young man distinguished from the rest mainly by the fact that his patched and worn cloak is dun-hued rather than grey, is now wandering toward the welcoming lights of the houses. At the sight of the blonde woman his hand drops automatically to his dagger-hilt, but after a few moments he shrugs and after turning his head to spit he walks tensely on. "You." Is he talking to Muirgheal? There's noone else except her and her children within hailing range.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal lifts her head slightly as she hears a voice, and turns. Her eyes- so dark one might call them 'obsidian'- look hard at the man who spoke, and then she straightens up to her full height and turns to fully face him. Arms automatically cross over her chest, and she casually drops the brush it's hard to look formidable when holding a grooming tool. "I bet your mother taught you how to speak better than that," Muirgheal says coolly.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] The little girl playing nearby, much more vocal than her brother, also speaks to the stranger who just spit. "HI!" she calls out loudly and brightly, a smile from ear to ear at the sight of a new face. The little boy doesn't pay as much attention as his sister to the man.
At that the man snorts. "Didn't teach me to speak this tongue at all, let alone to some .. Forgoil." After the single word in a foreign tongue, he returns to the Common. "Whose thrall are you, woman?" He gives no visible reaction to Muirgheal's threatening stance.
And the child? The pretty, tawny-haired little girl? When he looks round to take notice of her, he mutters merely, "Kiern!" and then looks away, scowling.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Muirgheal!" It's the sound of another woman's voice, coming into view shortly, carrying a load of firewood. Only this woman, Cordelia, is not so tall and her hair, which falls freely down her shoulders and over her grey wool cloak, is night-black. Her eyes have just the hint of a slant of the East to them. She stops dead in her tracks as she sees Brev.
"Who are you?" she demands.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal smiles at that name, though it's not at all friendly. "There's something I haven't been called in...eight years? Ten? I've not missed it." She already looked less than charitable toward the stranger now, her dark eyes are livid. "I am Muirgheal, and I live here with my husband. And I won't answer another question to such a rude son of a-" She may be pretty, but she's got quite a mouth on her- though her sentence never does get finished. Instead, she narrows her eyes and inclines her head toward her daughter. "You don't look at them," she says of the children tensely. Cordelia's presence gets a flicker of her gaze, but she's too cautious, watching the stranger, to really speak with her friend yet.
The man, Brev, looks automatically to the newcomer, and at the sight of her colouring and features - safely dark, if a touch exotic - the hostility that had been in his eyes as he stared at Muirgheal fades, replaced by neutrality and perhaps a hint of curiosity. "A traveller," he replies, in Common that is sing-song but perfectly clear. "Looking for a few people. Quite a few, in fact." He smirks. "Want a li-"
The words break off as Muirgheal's angered words penetrate, and he twists round to stare, aghast. "You? You're the one they claimed was friends with Uannve, the one who was supposed to know where she'd gone? Kiern, the woman must have been desperate if she took up with Forgoil." At that thought his face hardens, though his horrified scrutiny of Muirgheal does not abate.
As for looking at the children? They, it seems, are completely forgotten for the moment.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Trouble?" Cordelia asks, her brows creasing into a frown as she listens to this exchange of words. The firewood is set down where she stands, and she steps forward, coming closer--but not too close--to the stranger, forming a little triangle with him and Muirgheal. "What's a Forgoil? And why does it sound as if you are insulting my friend? You may want to think twice about that, sir," she grins. "I can show you a scar from her sword-work to emphasize my point if you'd like."
[Muirgheal(#32535)] The first thing Muirgheal deals with is her children, though the stranger may have forgotten them. "Caoimhe, Elfaroth go inside now, please." She says quickly, perhaps a little sharply. Still, the twins comply, and vanish from sight into the nearest house.
"Uannve?" There's a name Muirgheal hasn't heard in a while, either. Simply saying it softens her eyes and mouth as though with some pang of longing. Looking at Brev, however, her expression hardens again. "I loved her. But she may well be dead, for all I know anymore." The stranger is able to get that much out of her before Muirgheal draws a smaller dagger from a sheath at her arm. "Who wants to know where Uannve is, boy?"
Muirgheal's dark eyes quickly chase to Cordelia, and for the first time, the woman gives a genuine smile. "I'm glad you're here," she says to the dark-haired woman, then explaining, "That word he used...he's talking about the color of my hair. It's very much an insult, a childish one. If he is foolish enough to say it again, I'd suggest you show him your scar."
Brev answers Cordelia's question with a jerk of the head. "She is. Hair like straw," he pulls at one of his own dark curls as if for emphasis, "most of them have blue eyes. A faithless folk, can't trust them."
At Muirgheal's first words one brow raises, though he says no more until she is finished, grinning slightly at the 'boy'. "Name's Brev. Doubt she'd know it," and there he shrugs. "But she and I have an acquaintance in common, and I want to know where he is. If you see her, you ask her if she remembers Barseg." His voice hardens fit to match Muirgheal's.
He eyes the drawn knife warily, and keeps his own hand resting on his dagger hilt. "If you have a hankering for scars, it might be best to step outside the gates. Or do you folk make a habit of knifing each other in the street? Oh, and I'll take a look at that scar any time," he tosses back the final words in Cordelia's direction, flashing her a grin without actually taking his eyes of Muirgheal, the more obvious threat.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Don't get your hopes up, boy, nor anything else, lest it get cut off," Cordelia sneers. "If you see my scar, it might also be the last thing you see before I slit your throat."
"But you're right--it's not polite to greet strangers by threatening to spill their blood. So why are you seeking Uannve. And who is this Barseg? An old acquaintance? Why is he seeking her?"
[Muirgheal(#32535)] Muirgheal speaks to Brev again, her voice still hard, but this time the words come in a different tongue. She slips comfortably into Dunael to say, "Answer my friend's questions, or you'll have to play with me." She waves the knife back and forth by flicking her wrist. "Uannve's whereabouts are not your concern." After that, she switches back to Common to explain, "Dunland was -my- home too, boy. That's why my eyes are dark. It's where my mother came from, and I earned my first scars there."
Brev snorts at Cordelia's first words. "Kiern! It was you who offered, woman. Fine then, your loss." He smirks briefly in her direction, though it quickly fades at Muirgheal's next words.
He, too, slips into the guttural speech of Dunland."
Questions, alas, are dismissed in favour of matters of greater urgency.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Muir..." Cordelia says hesitantly..."I should sound the alarm...this might be too much even for you.." Under her cloak, her hand has reached for her own dagger, which she now holds out menancingly toward the man. "Besides, I'm much better wtih a dagger than you are...you ought to go run and get your sword."
Though Cordelia's eyes flick briefly to Muirgheal as the woman babbles in a foreign tongue--and though she sneers to the man's comments--all thought of discussion is forgotten as things seem to be coming to a fight.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "You aren't fit to mention Kiern's name," Muirgheal says, switching to Dunael again to address the stranger. "This child isn't too much for me," she tells Cordelia in Common, calmly. "I've fought a band of uruk-hai alone. Can this be worse? He likely has no craving to eat me when he's through." The blonde shrugs, and taps the scabbard hanging down at her side. "No need my sword is here." And just like that, the small knife is put back into the sheath on her arm in favor of a long sword that gleams in the fading sunlight once drawn. Muirgheal gives Brev a haughty look, as though it may make him rethink a brawl with her.
Brev's head tilts briefly toward Cordelia, without his gaze leaving Muirgheal's. "For what?" he snaps. "She wants to play with knives, she can play with knives. If she's tough as as she acts, she hardly needs your help to hack up every passing stranger without reason. Oh, and my death will profit you little. Our folk don't carry gold. Ask her, she knows."
The anger fades somewhat at the sight of Muirgheal's sword. "Changed your mind about that dagger?" he demands. "Scared it might actually have been a fair fight?" He continues to maintain his air of unconcern ... except for one thing. A muscle has started jumping in his left cheek.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Now come, both of you," Cordelia says, "Take a step back from this. Words have been passed, but surely there's no need for blood to be shed?" This from a Mordain spy..... "What is it going to accomplish, after all?" She does not sheath her own dagger, however.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "Playing peacekeeper, Cordelia?" Muirgheal asks, not unkindly at all, mild surprise in her voice. However, Muirgheal's dark eyes remain steadily fixed on the stranger, and a wolfish grin is given to him when she notices the twitch that betrays his words. "First, I don't fight fair. How else would a Forgoil have walked out of Dunland alive? And does it matter who's scared, when I'm the one with the bigger weapon and the better skills?" Muirgheal shrugs. "I'm not the one taunting instead of attacking. I'm wide open.." the blonde spreads her arms, though one holds the sword aloft tightly.
"No idea," Brev tosses back in Cordelia's direction, his mouth set in a thin line. "But I don't take kindly to being threatened. And I don't answer questions at knife-point - or sword-point, come to that." He declines to mention the fact that his more usual response might consist of running in the opposite direction. He is lightly built, and does not have any visible scars.
Muirgheal's invitation is not taken at face value instead the man mutters, keeping to the Common, "Kiern, woman, you're the one whose lusting for blood. I've no reason to attack you - doesn't mean I'll hang back like a sheep waiting for the slaughter." He shifts position a little, as though testing his balance and quickness.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
"Why not?" Cordelia shrugs at Muirgheal's response. "If we all agree to put up our blades..? After all, he has his friends over there." A nod of her head indicates the dozen or so of Brev's compatriots. "By the time I raise help in the village..." She grimaces.
"So...it is a better strategy to let the mutual insults pass. I am not For..erm..blonde. So perhaps instead of blood, this stranger will join me for an ale instead, and we can talk over our differences? If you are from Dunland, as it seems, I'm eager for news from that direction." For some reason.
[Muirgheal(#32535)] "You're not worth it I'd rather go fix my children's dinner. Cordelia, you ought to come see Rhifaroth and I when you've finished your...chatting, here." Muirgheal sheaths the sword and turns on her heels, blonde hair swirling. The mare she had been grooming steps along daintily at her side as they head toward the house, breaking off from the woman to go graze. Muirgheal lingers in the doorway of her house a moment, watching the stranger. "Uannve is none of your concern," she calls out, a soft afterthought in Dunael, perhaps unable to be heard.
To Cordelia's words, Brev replies levelly, "Depends if that's at knifepoint too." His tone is cool, though his cheek is still twitching a little.
He does not sheath his dagger as he watches Muirgheal leave, and one brow arches as the soft words in Dunael drift back - clearly he has caught enough of the speech to make something of it.
Once she's out of sight, he looks back to Cordelia. "Need to finish setting up camp. If you do want news of Dunland ... well, you know where to find me. If you come without a dagger in your hand, I might even talk to you. If not .. well. I'm quite partial to my throat as it is, thank you." He gives her a rather strained wink, and starts walking lightly away. Once he's put a reasonable distance between them, he will resheath his dagger.
[Cordelia(#24827)]
Cordelia's laughter drifts back toward Brev as the man walks away, as she sheaths her dagger. "You will find," she calls to him, "that I am far more reasonable than my...Forgoil?...friend. Nor am I stupid enough to come with a knife into your encampment of friends. But..." she shrugs, turning away now, back toward Muirgheal's house, "we will see about that talk later."
Players: Muirgheal, Brev, Cordelia
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