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Author Topic: Chapter II - A new day  (Read 6924 times)
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Irid alMenie
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« on: March 16, 2009, 06:26:14 AM »

Irid rose when the first rays of the sun touched her face. She rose, feeling only marginally refreshed, and stretched in a full-body yawn. Then she busied herself rekindling the fire with what was leftover from last night's firewood. She kept it rather small, since they would not need it for very long. She got some bread and cheese from their supplies. After a few candledrips, she called out: "Rise and shine, sleepyheads! The sun is out and we have a nice long day ahead of us. If we want to get anywhere, we don't want to sleep away the best part of the day." Some companions might have been awake already, but she called it mostly for the benefit of the ones still asleep. Handing out the bread and cheese to everyone - no need for extensive cooking this morning - she had quite a different attitude to the dejected state of last night. Despite the tossing and turning she had done that night, her outlook on the future was a little brighter again. She *would* find that druid, and he *would* know a way to help her! Besides that, the others had now seen what could happen, and none of them had run in terror from her. That was a good sign too.

When the breakfast was over, she neatly divided the tasks of breaking up camp. Afterwards, she said goodbye to Lyon, who was determined to go. While she gave the others some room to do the same, Maue approached her and said that she would like to go with Lyon, to make sure that he was alright. With a glance at Menweh, she confided that the whole magic display was too much for her nerves. Irid still hadn't found out what the whole aversion to magic was about, but she nodded that she understood. She would miss the two, even though she had only known them for a day. Lyon however, insisted on returning the horse to her. She would have parted with it willingly, but he insisted that he was more comfortable with his own two feet on the ground.

She had to be honest though that it was a good outcome for her. Going over to the dwarf, she offered him the use of the horse: "I do not know if you were planning on joining us for a little while, but if our roads converge, perhaps you would be willing to ride this horse? I am not sure how you feel about horses, I have heard previously that dwarves and horses do not get along well, but I might be wrong about this. This beast was chosen especially for its docile nature, so if you do not mind riding so much, you might use her. If you do mind but would still like to travel with us, I am sure Ruka would not mind sharing a horse, since hers is quite the biggest one we have among us."

When everything had been taken care of, they were all packed up, and the two leavers were seen on their way, they set off at a brisk trot. The order in which they rode changed from time to time, though there was usually at least some conversation going on at one point or the other. By the time Injera was at its highest point, the group reached a village - certainly not the smallest Irid had ever seen, though possibly too small to be found on any map. As they soon found out, the place even had an inn. Since they were going up north, where they might have to forego such luxuries, she called a halt so that they could have lunch at this place.

As they were eating the decent enough food - though nothing spectacular - Irid's sharp ears picked up a conversation on the other end of the room. This was not really much of a feat, since there were not too many people at this midday hour and the conversation was far from secret. They were talking about some knight up in some other village nearby, who had been asking questions. The thing that made her prick her ears was that this knight seemed to be a woman. Was it possible that this  woman knight was the companion they seemed to have lost yesterday? Her suspicions were confirmed when she heard the questions that had been asked - with the most prominent one being about an elfess with golden eyes, and a giantess of a woman. These were likely two of the things that stood out most to many people, though the others of the company were also described - plus Maue and Lyon, minus Morden. There was no talk of an orcess, however. Perhaps Merysa knew what had happened to her, that she was not asking questions about her?

Irid excused herself for a minute from her companions. She went to talk to the men who she'd been listening too first, then she went over to the innkeeper. When all was taken care of, she returned to the table and explained what she was about. "I heard some talk just now about a woman knight who is asking questions about us. I am sure that this is our companion Merysa. I am planning on riding to the village where she was asking questions, and see if we can not find her. However, since not everyone is as comfortable on a horse as others, I will go there only with Ruka, so that we can hopefully come back soon. We will be sure to be back by nightfall. I have talked with the innkeeper, and you may stay here or explore the village, as you see fit, and you can order the drinks that you like, I will settle with him afterwards. However, my purse will appreciate it very much if you could keep the consumption within limits." she said with a wink.

With that, she and Ruka made their way to the stables and retrieved their horses, to set off towards the village that the men had pointed her to. She hoped the others would be able to entertain themselves long enough until they got back, hopefully with Merysa.
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Morden Peshirgolz
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« Reply #1 on: March 17, 2009, 11:34:43 PM »

Morden woke up sore in the morning, his body throbbing dully from the exertions of yesterday. His old injuries would not allow him to do such large amounts of traveling, at least not without paying the price for it. He sat up and glanced around the clearing, watching the others as they also began to stir. Irid had already begun a fire, and was waking people and giving them breakfast. Cheeriness like that should be outlawed in the morning, thought Morden. His dwarven senses were slightly agitated by his having to sleep through the night and wake up in the day. Normally for him, it would be the other way around. But he had to make adjustments if he was to live in a world of humans and elves. Oh well, sleep was sleep no matter whether it was night or day, and a little discomfort wouldn't kill him.

He accepted his breakfast of bread and cheese gratefully from Irid, thanking her as she passed on to others in the party. Morden hungrily ate his piece of bread, then contemplated whether he should eat his piece of cheese. He sniffed very cautiously. This would seem strange to those not of the Thergerim race, but dairy foods and dwarves do not interact well. Morden was still a little hungry, and was weighing whether it was worth it to try his luck eating this piece of cheese. Gathering a bit of courage, Morden broke off a tiny little piece and nibbled it. Then he nearly hurled his guts outs. Oh no, there would no eating cheese for this dwarf. But not wishing to waste food, he walked over to where Menweh was, and offered her his piece of cheese. "Ye 'ave my gratitude, young lady, for the tea you offered last night. If this could be but a small recompense to you for my brash manner towards ye, I'd be indebted to you."

When the group was ready to move on, Irid offer Morden the use of one of the horses. Morden shared the dwarven hesitation about riding these fleet-footed beasts, but it was not as strong a fear among the people of his tribe. They rode the large Krumhorn beasts, armored animals of considerable bulk. The horse was taller and thinner than one of these beast. The idea of riding one was slightly troubling to Morden. A horse did not have the armor plating of a Kruhm, nor did it have the very sturdy and protective natural saddle that the deep voiced beasts of the north possessed. It would certainly not be quite as safe, but Morden could managed to ride one, as long as it did not become unruly. "Thank ye, mistress Irid. I'll gladly ride this horse, since t'will spare my legs the hard march." The horse was fairly docile, as Irid had said, and the trip was without incident.

At the inn, Morden had tolerated the food there. It was hardly the quality of dwarven cooking, but these were human dishes, not quite fitting to his tastes. When he had finished eating, Irid and the giantess announced they were leaving to find one of their companions. Hmm, strange that the orc that Morden had heard of earlier had never turned up after all. Oh well, there was still that thief he needed to catch, and he was curious about these people now. But he put thinking about any of this out of his mind for the moment. He wondered if they had any good ale at this place. Irid had said not to drink too much, but one mug would be good enough for a disciplined dwarf such as Morden. He ordered some of the inn's ale, and sat down eagerly at one of the tables to drink. It turned out to be only somewhat of a disappointment. No human ale could compare to the art of a dwarf brewmistress, but this was palatable.

His thirst quenched, Morden sought out Menweh and asked, "Be there anything I could do to repay ye for my own rudeness, and for yer kindness to me. You seem to be a strange one to be traveling, if ye don't mind my noticing. Ya seem a bit too delicate for hard travel, as if yer heads in the clouds. But ye showed quite a streak of pluck yesterday. Where do ya come from, that ye be such a paradox like that, eh?"
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Menweh Reolláolásh’miés
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« Reply #2 on: March 30, 2009, 03:51:11 AM »

Menweh was one of the first to get up. She would more often than not, when she was sailing, sleep under the stars and awaken with the dawn than sleep in her own room.

When she had been waking up, she could have almost swore she had smelled the brackish mists and the cry of the gull. She smiled as she woke from her dreams of the oceans. That was when she hear the waking cry of Irid. Handing out cheese and bread, something that Menweh had grown quite fond of at Ximax. It didn't take her horrifically long to get everything back into the saddle bags. Just when she'd stop to take a sip of tea for her leg when Morden had come over to her and offered her his cheese. "Worry not about it good sir," She smiled graciously at him, then eyed the cheese,"I've developed a fondness for this, thank you. She said as she took the cheese from him her smile setting her entire face alight. With that she mounted her horse with some difficulty and nibbled the cheese while she waited for the rest of her friends.

At the inn Menweh was filling her belly with food, her head very very high in the clouds as she had been thinking. Something she tended to do a little too much recently. It was only when Morden came over did she come back to reality.

"Repayment?" Menweh said the word as though it was foreign to her. She thought a moment then said to him, "I was wondering if you could teach me about dwarven culture. You see I am horrifically unlearned about it and I would like to know more about it, it seem so fascinating."

the elfess blushed slightly, making her pale completion turn a the color of a pink, blushing rose, "I used to be a sea urchin, as often as my mother would let me I would go on my father's trade ships. I, uh, used to climb all over his ship, be on look out duty, polish the deck with the other shipmates. So moving about has always been in my blood, although my leg says otherwise," She smiled tapping her wretched leg.

" But I wanted to learn more about the world than what I could learn from books. I wanted an adventure all my own. I know that sounds horrifically childish but I just find the world so fascinating, full of little curiosities everywhere. I want to know everything about everything, and books can only tell you so much." Menweh looked lowered her eyes. Oh she was a dreamer, a dreamer who couldn't stop. She then looked at Morden her blue eyes still sparkling, "As to where I come from well, tell me a little about yourself first, then I'll tell you a little more about me," Menweh's eyes glittered impishly as she waited for the dwarf's response. As she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the ring with her family's seal glittered in the light.
« Last Edit: March 30, 2009, 03:54:09 AM by Menweh Reolláolásh’miés » Logged

Irid alMenie
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« Reply #3 on: March 30, 2009, 05:23:28 AM »

Not far from where the travelling group sat, there was gathered a group of young people, all humans, as was usual in this village. The oldest was 25, the youngest perhaps 16. They had been sitting more or less quietly together, but since the strangely assorted group had come in most of their attention had been directed towards them. At first their comments had been low and out of earshot, but when two women left the group and the rest looked like they were settling down, the youngsters grew louder and more boisterous.

"Look at the shorty with the beard!" One was saying. "Wanna bet he spends hours every morning combing it?" His friends guffawed, and another took it up. "Yeah, and braiding pearls and stuff into it when he's alone!"
"And what about the woman next to him? Can I hear you say airhead?"
"Ha, and the other two, then? Twins, yeah right. I'd say they share more than just their parents."

The comments and guffaws grew louder and louder, added on and elaborated by the others. It was obvious they did not care that the object of their jokes could hear them; or could be hurt by their words. After a while they grew bored with their tauntings and left the inn, still snickering to each other and pointing at the group. As they passed, one of them tweaked Menweh's braid and then made his way out.
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Irid al'Menie
Morden Peshirgolz
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« Reply #4 on: April 02, 2009, 11:22:25 PM »

"As to where I come from well, tell me a little about yourself first, then I'll tell you a little more about me."

Morden weighed the elfess' request carefully in his mind for some moments. His past was a long one, and not a happy one. It was full of long days, days of pain, and days of great loss. Battle-hardened, that was his life, one which had felt to him always as one long fight against the entirety of Caelereth. That was the life of a Susilgerim. Trum-Barol, for reasons the dwarves could not fathom, did not seem to protect the wild dwarves with the same loving hand that was the steadfast hope of other dwarf clans. No...war, storms, disease, and other ravages of the wilderness plagued this untameable people. Morden had his own part in their fight.

 He had witnessed the destruction of orcs, of storms, of disease and disaster. But the incredible thing about the Susilgerim, was that they were still a happy people. They could not be beaten down, their love of life could not keep them from fighting. This little mage wished to hear of their culture, and so Morden would not tell of the pain of his life. No, the joy of being a Susilgerim, a dwarf of the mountains, would be what he told her. In measure, though, since he must be sure that she would respect it properly. One did not tell many stories of such a great people to one who would not appreciate it. But Menweh seemed like one who would, and Morden hoped her appearance was not deceiving.

"Well," he began, "I don't know, if we be properly introduced. So I'll start with my name. I be Morden Lonehand, aptly named dwarf of the Susilgerim clan. I'm a one from the high, cold mountains of Imlith, far north of these lands. The dwarves there are not like any yer likely t'see around here. They be a wild people, untamed and fierce. A dwarf in these parts, he keeps his beard combed, he braids it, he walks around in nicely ordered clothes. But a Susilgerim, he lets his beard grow as it may, in large curls and tangled bunches. Only for battle do we try to keep it in a bit of order, and our clothes be of a simple order. Always dusty and of all sorts of mottled dusty colors are our clothes. Brown and green, black and grey, the colors of camouflage define us. That is the way of a wild dwarf, of the high hills."

"Look at the shorty with the beard!" Morden paused in his dialogue for a moment to scrutinize the group of young ruffians that had shouted out this attempt to raise the dwarf's ire. They could not be but than an eighth of Morden's age, and they were showing quite a bit of audacity for such striplings. Err...Morden was a little irked at such open disrespect, but he wasn't going to be stirred up by such petty imps. Such things were to be expected from humans at times. They were not taught respect for their elders, as dwarves were. No, they tended to be brash, outspoken, and out of their place. Well, they really weren't worth the trouble of getting angry over, so Morden turned back to continue his conversation with Menweh.

"Wanna bet he spends hours every morning combing it?" Further insulting of Morden's beard, followed by raucous laughter. The hooligans were now getting a little more irksome than before. Perhaps ignoring them was not the best option after all. Morden's beard was typical of a Susilgerim. They did not spend the time attending to the combing of one's beard that other dwarves did. They kept in nice fashion, but it was a different style than most dwarves. Morden, and the other men of his village, had preferred a curlier, more wild-looking beard than what was familiar to the southern lands. And so Morden very much objected to the idea that he spent such a ridiculous amount of time primping up his vanity. He angrily and loudly growled back to the group, "Yah can keep yer thoughts on a dwarf's pride to yerselves! I keep my beard my own way, and ye'll all be wise to remember that!"

The group did not take any notice of Morden's words. Instead, more insults, "Yeah, and braiding pearls and stuff into it when he's alone!" This was really kind of a sore point with Morden. He had been living among Mitharim dwarves for some time now, and they were very fond of ornamenting their beards. Morden was not, but still had been coaxed to do so by his small number of friends back in Tyr Donian. He could take a little friendly criticism from fellow dwarves, but comments from a bunch of infantile humans were going to get under his skin. He glared at the bunch for some seconds, but managed to retain his composure. They were humans. They weren't worth the time it take to teach them their place. He would have to simply leave it be for now.

Morden turned again to Menweh, while the insults coming from the groups of humans turned to other members of the party. "Well, dear lady, I have imparted to ye a bit of the culture of mine people, and a good people they are. Perhaps I could hear a bit of the culture and place from which ye come, and of what name they call you by?" But soon after the words left Morden's mouth, he heard snickering and talking close-by. The group of loafers was bored, apparently, and moving on. May Trum-Barol heap coals on their heads, thought Morden, taking a sip from the ale mug he had been neglecting whilst his ire was momentarily irked. Yet just as the group was leaving, and Morden was occupied with taking a drink, one of the youths walked up behind Menweh and pulled her hair. Morden set his cup down with a thud. This young group had suddenly made themselves worthy of being taught a lesson.

Morden could take a fair amount of insults, he thought. He could not take disrespect to a lady, especially one whom he felt somewhat indebted to. Morden stood up as quickly as his sore body allowed, and drew from his cloak a sack of rocks. He loosened the sack and empty some of the rocks into his palm, then set them on the table. He did not want to seriously injure the youths, but a knock in the head would be an effective teaching method. As the group was leaving, Morden slung the rope handle of the sack over the end of his stump. The end of his injured bone was knobby enough to catch the rope, and Morden spun the sack in a vertical circle through the air. With a twist of his forearm, he let the rope slide off his handless arm, sending the sack sailing away from him. It sailed right at the door of the inn, through the the young hooligans were leaving. Morden watched carefully to see if it would hit its intended target, the young man who had dared to touch the young elfess, Menweh.
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Menweh Reolláolásh’miés
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« Reply #5 on: April 04, 2009, 12:27:06 AM »

She watched him as he seemed to mull her request over, and for that moment she had wondered if it had been a little too much and was about to apologize for overstepping her boundries when he began to speak. Everything from the first dwarven accented syllable he uttered kept her spellbound. Almost as proof of this the elfess eyes looked at the dwarf as if he was the most amazing being in the world, a grand teacher and holy man. To the every knowledge hungry wizardess, he could in fact be any of these.

As soon as he started to speak, the jagged mountain peaks that she'd never seen, covered in ice and snow. The elfess imagined A town of close knit buildings made of stone and thatch. Each one had a column of smoke billowing from stone chimneys. She saw men working out in the snow, shoveling the white, frozen fluff so they could move about their town and into the caves where they grew delicious fungi. She heard the drum of a blacksmith forcing metals to take the shape of different tools. She even thought she saw a temple building of some sort.

It wasn't long before her mind moved in on the village like a hawk spotting a mouse. She flew into the closest of the cozy looking buildings. Stone and thatch kept the cold out better than she had imagined it would. Menweh looked at the various people around the room. A male dwarf, his beard just as Morden described all in tangles, all in curls. Almost as if nature itself had decided it would take form, and in the likeness of a dwarf. She smiled a little bit as her imagination shaped the dwarf further. She imagined him a pipe in one hand and mug of good strong dwarven ale in the other, his feet red from the cold and sore with the work he'd done that day. Her mind then shifted towards the hearth. There in front of a kettle was a woman who ruled her house with and iron first. Indeed she was proving a stalwart woman. In one hand she held a babe and nursed him. That child was his father's pride. In the other hand she held a heavy wooden spoon, the instrument of her wrath should anyone interfere with her duty. For a second even Menweh shied away from this formidable looking woman.

All of her imaginings had stopped however as he was rudely interrupted by the voices of several youths. They where rather rude comments, had not the dwarf just said that he didn't spend time preening his bread but left it to style itself as nature intended.

"And what about the woman next to him? Can I hear you say airhead?"
Airhead? how is that even an insult? She was a student of wind magic, but that insult was foreign to her. If they had said one of the more naughty comments sailors often shouted at eachother she would not have minded so much. Those where fun and she could sometimes hold her own on a insult duel, howelse was one to pass the time on a ship? However, had they meant that naught but air and dust between her delicately pointed ears? Now that, that was rude. She was about to ask Morden if he knew what exactly that term meant when one tweaked her braid.

No one except her family had ever touched her, ever. That was rather uncomfortable and she blushed accordingly. Did they not respect woman? Did they not respect her? If they didn't, it seemed like Morden would discipline them Menweh eyes traced the bag in the air and half way to its intended target Menweh turned her head to Morden and whispered, her melodic accent lilting on her words, "Thank you," She smiled at him and turned to watch what would ensue.
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The Illiana Twins
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« Reply #6 on: April 05, 2009, 03:31:33 AM »

The night passed uneventfully, and soon enough - pleasantly enough -, the twins found themselves eating on tables, in a tavern along their path. Lunch was decent enough, though Xanth, typical for her, could find out plenty where the cook could improve on. She kept up a running commentary with her brother, quietly so as to not offend other people.

“Too much salt here. Too little here. It’s sprinkled too unevenly,” Xanth muttered. Xander nodded, his knife prodding the meat for its toughness. “Too tough,” he proclaimed quietly. Their shared conversation made them partially oblivious to their surroundings; so engrossed with tasting and commenting, they didn’t hear the insults and jeers, not until it was too late.

Xander froze, letting the comment about him and his sister sink in slowly. Did they just… insult Xanth? Already the small sparks of anger set his nerves on fire, his senses alert. That didn’t happen. No one insulted his sister. She was under his protection, and no one would ever insult her or her modesty. Carefully, even gently, the blazing hot flame in his chest started to flare up, licking his insides, painting his vision crimson.

Paying no heed to Xanth’s cries, or Morden’s flying sack, he went a step further. The strapping elf stood up, calmly nocking an arrow. He aimed it carefully so that it’d hit the leg of the arse who spoke the insults, but naturally, it wouldn’t be fatal. All the better for me. I’ll have fun later, Xander thought savagely. Nothing registered in his brain any more, not the quest, the tavern, nor the trouble he’d be in. Only that he’d make the scum pay.

Unfortunately, it was not meant to be. A burly bouncer grabbed his arm before he could let go, speaking vaguely about "not shedding blood" in the tavern. Xanth came into view them, speaking urgently. Slowly, his temper cooled, though his anger did not. As the hooligans left, he gazed after them, a steely glint in his eye. They'd still pay. He'd make sure.
« Last Edit: April 18, 2009, 03:03:08 AM by The Illiana Twins » Logged

Irid alMenie
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« Reply #7 on: April 16, 2009, 09:45:01 PM »

A stone sailed through the air, narrowly missing one of the exiting youths, who looked up with wide eyes and suddenly had a lot less to say. Within seconds though, as the group left, a big, burly and bald-headed man was standing next to the adventurers and taking Xander's arm in a vice-like grip, before he could release the arrow he had nocked.

"Hey now, hey. You stop that. You wanna fight 'em, go ahead and welcome by me, but not inside the tavern. The boss said you could stay around all day until goldeyes gets back, but you're not shedding blood here so long as I'm here to prevent it. Take it outside, if you're so eager for it.

Just to prove his point, the bouncer let go of the arm but stayed in the immediate vicinity until the last of the youths had gone. If anyone wanted to head out after them, though, they were soon stopped in their tracks by the approach of a gracefully dressed woman, followed closely by a man in a long homespun shirt and not entirely matching leggings. The woman put a slender hand on Xander's arm, on the same spot that moments earlier the bouncer had gripped.

"Oh, noble sir, I saw what they did, I heard everything! You cannot let them get away with it. Forgive me for bothering you like this, but they have done the same, and worse, to me. Oh, for such a long time now they have harassed me in every possible manner, and I can no longer tolerate it. I would ask you, kind sir, and your companions, if you would not teach them a lesson, both for what theyd did to you and for what they continue to do to me. My friend here, Jaek, is a traveller like yourselves, and he has already graciously agreed to come to my aid, but you have seen the number of people they have. I could not forgive myself if they should beat him, should he accost them by himself, so I resolved to ask for your assistance as well. Will you help me?

The woman looked up at the taller elf with clear, hazel-coloured eyes. In her eyes could be read the emotion of having been harassed by a group of youths the same age as herself, and her helplessness until now. Then she flicked her eyes down to the people still sitting, including them all in her plea. Please?
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Morden Peshirgolz
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« Reply #8 on: April 21, 2009, 11:03:24 PM »

"Thank you," The words reached Morden as he watched one of the unfortunate narrowly miss the pure enjoyment of a day long headache. Err, so close, too, and what a waste of a fine shot. And it had looked so heroic just then, really. But now the youths were quickly retreating. At least, thought Morden, the fear of Trum-Barol had been imposed upon their brains, for the time being. A large, burly man was gripping the arm of the male elf, Morden noticed. Apparently the elf had been poised to shoot one of the youths with his bow. Well, Morden mused, I have a bit of a kindred spirit here. It was good to know that he wasn't the only one who wouldn't put up with nonsense from such hooligans. Remembering the words that he had heard a moment or two earlier, he turned to Menweh, "The honor be mine, m'lady, it be no trouble ta teach a lesson to the young. They be always in need of teaching, one way or the other." As that last phrase left his lips, he glanced meaningfully at the stone which had nearly hit one of the taunters.

Morden limped over to the door, and carefully bent down to pick up his stone and the sack containing it. Oh Stone Father, he thought as he stood up, me back will kill for sure now. The sudden movement of standing followed by the exertion of launching his missile had made his poor body ache once again. He would still be able to stand it, but it was sure to get worse as the day went on. But no mountain dwarf was going to let this defeat him, so Morden steeled his nerves and walked back to his table. He then placed the stones lying there back into their sack, and tied the sack back onto his belt.

It was then that Morden noticed the lady who had walked into the tavern. She was in the middle of making some earnest plea to the male elf..."I could not forgive myself if they should beat him, should he accost them by himself, so I resolved to ask for your assistance as well. Will you help me?...Please?" This seemed strange to Morden, that she would come in just then. Not that he could for certain say what it was that disconcerted him, but the situation felt very well-timed to him. Maybe it was simply dwarven nature, the distrust of his kind towards the other races, but he had a hard time feeling that this lady was trustworthy. A dwarven woman would not make this request to strangers, she would rely on her husband and the other warriors in the clan. And in a tribe that allowed a dwarfess to be a warrior, she would fend for herself. This pleading, in front of strangers, was very alien to Morden's concept of females. He knew that humans were more trusting, that they gave and accepted help among strangers more readily, but still...bah, he could not define his uneasiness.

And then there was her companion...what was his name? Jaek? He had reddish brown hair with green eyes. More odd eye colours, did these humans ever try to stick to good earth brown, black, grey? No, always with the weird eyes. He seemed like a man used to the outdoors, who could fend well enough for himself. I wonder, thought Morden, why he feels he needs help? Or perhaps the lady is asking of her own wish, without consulting him? The fact that he seemed like such a down-to-earth man, bred to survive against what nature might throw against him, Morden felt he seemed a little more trustworthy. Morden put an end to this character analysis in his head, and began to weigh the woman's request.

"I'd a be awilling ta teach those young ones a lesson, yes. But first I'd like t'know who both of you are, seeing that it is so hard for a dwarf to trust anyone when he be away from his mountains. And since ya be set on avenging this lady, young lad there, would ya mind if ya told me what was your plan of going 'bout this, before I commit my service to ya?"
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The Illiana Twins
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« Reply #9 on: April 28, 2009, 11:17:56 PM »

An elegantly dressed lady floated over to where the party was, almost immediately after the ruffians had left. A slender hand rested lightly on Xander’s arm, and the lady started speaking, expressing her admiration and her plea. Xander listened intently to the woman, his sea green eyes never leaving the lady’s face. She had warm hazel eyes, a gentle hue that reminded him of young fawns frolicking in the woods. They conveyed, without any reasonable doubt, her frustration with the few hooligans.

Even before she stopped speaking, Xander had already made a descision to help her, no matter the cost. The prospect of such a delicate creature being harassed awakened his sense of chivalry. Xander placed his hand over hers in a silent assurance. He’d help her.

Xanth, however, took in Jaek and his female companion with a more objective point of view. In fact, she found herself agreeing with everything that Morden asked. Plus, what about Irid? Not that she didn’t want to help the pair, but she could not take her current duty to Irid lightly. A quick flick of her turquoise orbs took in Jaek with much more detail. Though he seemed emotionless at that moment, there was a twinkle in his eye that let Xanth have a glimpse of a cheerful personality. Perhaps he wouldn’t be bad to work with, at least.

She knew though, if the lady was manipulative enough - as women could be in general - her brother could be in trouble. She knew Xander well enough to know that if any Jane Doe gave him the damsel in distress routine, he’d jump to her rescue quicker than she wolfing down her father’s signature steak. She could see Xander’s chivalry kicking in already. He had the tightness of his lip that only came when he was determined about something.

Egads. Well, let’s remind people we’re not free mercenaries, she thought. “And that’s all well and good, Morden, and we’d be happy to help,” Xanth added quickly after Morden. “But we’re currently in employ of someone else. Perhaps we could leave a message for her?” she said, looking towards the rest.
« Last Edit: April 28, 2009, 11:19:07 PM by The Illiana Twins » Logged

Menweh Reolláolásh’miés
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« Reply #10 on: April 30, 2009, 04:31:41 AM »

Menweh looked from the lady who settled herself upon Xander's arm. She watched and listen carefully. Not wanting to aggravate the testy dwarf who had just defended her honor. The wizardess looked calmly at the woman, she looked to be a peasant of some sort, her cloths where not more than rags to Menweh's cultured eyes. Menweh blushed slightly as she looked down at her own deep green cloak and white, slightly graying robes and doe hide boots. She try to reconcile herself by thinking that she must be incredibly blessed to have a rich family, but that did not much good.  She sighed and looked at the woman, wondering if had happened to her was as bad as some of the histories she had read.

She hoped it wasn't so.

If she was on the Storm lord's good side it might have been what happened to her, the ruffians just came a little too close to her. the elfess shuddered, if anything worse happend, if they didn't help. Menweh would make sure they paid, she would let loose a storm of wind! Then it occurred to her that her magic wasn't that strong quite yet. She'd just have to scare them a bit. But she hoped that they would help her, after all Irid would be back in a few hours, they could help a poor soul couldn't they? Menweh bit her lip as she voiced her thoughts, in a soft lilting tone " If it is not to far, I'm sure we can help her can't we? Irid said that she'd be back by night fall and it is not even sunreign yet."

She then turned to the lady and asked just as gentle, her Ylfferhim accent dancing on her words, "'Can you tell us who they are and how they know you?"
« Last Edit: April 30, 2009, 04:32:19 AM by Menweh Reolláolásh’miés » Logged

Irid alMenie
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« Reply #11 on: May 14, 2009, 08:35:59 PM »

At the questions thrown her way, the young woman blinked, just once. Then she answered them one after the other.

"Master Dwarf, forgive me my manners. I am called Madeleine, and my friend here is Jaek. This all should not take long, really - find them, teach them not to harass innocent women again, or bother a group of travellers, and you are on your way - and I will have peace." Madeleine turned to Menweh. "They are youths from this very village, and two or three from the neighbouring village. The twelve know why they are not out helping their parents on the field, but there it is. They know me because I live in this village as well, though unlike them I live alone, as I have no parents. I think that is maybe the reason they decided to harass me. I have no family, so there is nobody to come to my defense.
Please, good travellers, if you will help me, come with me outside and we will see how best to teach them a lesson. I think I know where to find them, there is one spot at the nearby pond where they regularly hang out - a place I have learned to avoid."


With that, Madeleine made her way to the door, looking back over her shoulder with hope written in her eyes that they would follow her.
« Last Edit: May 14, 2009, 08:36:57 PM by Irid alMenie » Logged

Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Foraste Lydan
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« Reply #12 on: May 17, 2009, 08:32:44 PM »

Foraste leaned against the wall outside of the inn. Laughter drifted from inside along with a few angry voices. Foraste was trying to finish an article on the forest around New Santhala. The scraping of chairs and a few bursts of laughter heralded a group of kids leaving the inn. The walked by and shot a few passing insults at Foraste again. A rock flung out the door narrowly missed one of the delinquents. A pity thought Foraste, they had been bothering him since early morning when he had  come into the village to rest. Foraste walked inside of the inn to find out if the other travelers cared about the hooligans.

One of the villagers was talking to the travelers about the youths. He overheard her asking them if they would help her to teach them a lesson. Foraste walked over to the table and said "Hello, my name is Foraste Lydan and I overheard you talking about those delinquents that are outside. If you are going to teach them their manners I would like to help."
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Foraste Lydan
Irid alMenie
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« Reply #13 on: June 11, 2009, 11:42:39 PM »

Madeleine looked back, and was satisfied to see that despite some people's objections, the group followed her nonetheless. They were even joined by another traveller, who had obviously also been bothered by the youngsters. Good, she thought. The more the merrier.

She led the diverse little troupe to where she was pretty sure the group had gone. And sure enough, at the edge of the pond, there they were, laughing and sharing a jug of mead that they had brought from the inn. Jornek, their leader, was the first to notice the adventurers approaching. He stood up, a smirk visible on his face, watching them. The others noticed he was watching something, looked up, and one by one joined him in standing up, though just half a step behind him so that he seemed to be standing in the front. He crossed his arms and lifted an eyebrow, as if challenging them to do something.

Madeleine decided to keep dramatics to a minimum. All she said was: We have come... to teach you a lesson. Then she made way for her newfound friends. Jornek, arrogantly enough, started taunting them again, talking about how ragtag and ill-suited they were. It was obvious that he quite underestimated their prowess, taking them for a ragtag heap of weaklings. His followers, as if on cue, joined in with the taunting. Madeleine, off to the side, smiled. She was convinced that road-hardened travellers such as these would have no problems with a bunch of overspoiled and undertrained farmer's children. My friends... she said quietly, They are all yours.
« Last Edit: June 11, 2009, 11:43:42 PM by Irid alMenie » Logged

Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Morden Peshirgolz
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« Reply #14 on: June 15, 2009, 05:50:40 AM »

Morden had followed the lady quite willingly, since he had not originally come with this group to be paid, but rather had sought them out of revenge and stayed with the group out of happenstance. So now, annoyed with the brigands who had toyed with the small group earlier, he was more than willing to teach them a lesson. He was not out to harm anyone, just to scare the fear of Trum-Barol into their obviously narrow minds. He had walked in silence, mentally preparing the approach he would take in dealing with these hooligans. He decided that he would use his axe as his weapon, since it would appear more intimidating than a dagger or rocks. But he debated with himself whether he should approach the group openly or not. While they did not appear to have any formidable skill in fighting, Morden's habit and nature gave him pause when considered an immediate, direct confrontation.

In the past, Morden would not have thought about this problem twice. He would have come right at them, openly and in full fury, but age and injury had taught him more wisdom in the years since. The decision was reached when Morden surmised that surprise would be a startling and intimidating approach, and the more scared these silly children became, the more likely they would remember their lesson. Morden pulled his cloak up over his face, then pulled his axe out of its coverings as their party reached a pond where the youths had gathered. By this time, Morden was crouched down at the rear of the small group of avengers, and when they stopped in front of the hooligans he noticed a tree overhanging a small embankment by the edge of the pond. The branches drooped low, in some places touching the tops of the reeds that grown up there. Whereas in most places the pond water had smooth banks, the roots of this tree had prevented any such regular erosion, making for the small but steep enbankment.

The group drew near to the spot where the tree stood, which was just between their group and the rowdy younglings. He tapped Menweh on the shoulder, pointing to the tree in the hopes that she would understand his plan. That way Morden would not catch his own allies by surprise when he chose to reveal himself. Morden watched as the youths responded raucously to their presence, then took advantage of the mild chaos to swiftly walk the ped and a half towards the enbankment, dropping out of sight among the tree branches as he found his footing among the roots of the sagging plant. Leaning back against the tree for balance, he held his axe close to his body, while leaning his frame forward so that his cloak shrouded the blade. He decided to wait there for further developments, saving the advantage of surprise until the most opportune moment. Hopefully, he had not already been seen.
« Last Edit: June 15, 2009, 07:46:59 AM by Morden Peshirgolz » Logged

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