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pitya
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Post inherence (see ooc)
on: August 26, 2006 01:14
Modig glanced with apprehension around the forge where he was working—it had been several hours since he’d last seen his master, Rowe, though he might guess where the aging man was at. Growing scuttlebut had drawn many to the tavern, promising tales of the wider world and the struggles rising within it. The Dark Lord’s realm was beginning to grow greater in shadow, rising from the ashes that had buried it centuries before; strange travellers were seen on the roads. You’d best not take journeyers in, they said, for one never knew their purpose. Only prudence would save men from their destruction; too many of the youth went off gallivanting with strangers and never came back.

The roumors did naught but make Modig laugh. After all, wasn’t he one of those ‘youths’? Grown fully into manhood, the foreign Rohirric blacksmith had begun as one such lad in a remote town in the heart of the Rohan, a stable hand; then his brother’s friend Erlig had a run in with a stranger, whose name they never knew. A power is rising, the man told Erlig in dark tones, and any who assist will be rewarded greatly.

As per usual, Erlig had shown little interest in the matter—he was not one for seeing a bigger picture, or taking part in one. But Modig and his brother had; neither wished to remain in a stable the rest of their lives, shoveling horse manure and taking orders from an innkeeper whose penchants changed every hour. And the next year, when his brother was trampled beneath a horse, Modig made up his mind—gaining cartographical knowledge from a passer-through, he left his home for a the East in hopes for a more rewarding future.

And his journeys had brought him here, to the almost outpost of a town on the edge of the Gondorian realm; everyone had their own business, one might say, and their own lives. Distincly Gondorian, the middle-sized town of Tuluvaran sat in on the Eastern borders of South Ithilien, towards the river Pelargir, from which most of the news came. The tavern was the center of the folk here, where everyone went when they needed news, or gossip, or wives tales, or any mixture of the three. Not that everyone in the town was dull-witted, or simple-minded. There were many who gathered more than entertainment from the stories, and of these Modig was particularly cautious—the Rohirric man was not too deeply involved in the plans of the East, nor their goal; if it came down to it, he wasn’t entirely sure where he would place his allegiance. But he spoke with the occasional Eastern stranger, or men wandering from the South where the influence of greater power was strongest, and was by no means neutral.

It was just such a sentiment that put him ill at ease now, in the forge. Rowe had left more than two hours ago to ‘fetch some potatoes’ from the tavern; Modig knew he’d been gone a good long time. Which wouldn’t explain the movement he heard in the front of the shop. It was nearing twilight, and folk should be winding down their daily business. Modig removed his leather apron, placing it on a nearby table and made his way to the doorway at the front of the forge leading to the open area.


[Edited on 26/8/2006 by pitya]
Aravis17
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 26, 2006 03:25
Mægdan Ariæté was wiping off a table in the bar, daydreaming about freedom, wondering what it would be like to have her own life, when a memory collided with her thoughts as an aged man entered the bar.

She wanted to go ride her horse. Her father had said no. She pleaded with him, 'just around the valley?' He didn't change his answer. She told him she was going to her room. He said he wanted her where he could see her.
'I can't even go to my room and read a book?' she asked him.
'No. I will not let what happened to your mother happen to you.' A horn sounded in the distance.
'That is the sound calling the Eorlingas. The wildmen are attacking! Maeg, I must go.' He kissed her forehead and left.

Her mother had been kidnapped, tortured, and killed, only because she wouldn't reveal the Rohirrim's tactics. She didn't know them. And now Maeg's father refused to let her out of his sight. But now he did. Now, when other people mattered and lives were at stake, he left her alone. She was sick of being treated as if she were five years old. She was almost 16! She packed her stuff, her dagger, and her books, and left. She mounted her horse and set off. She was sure no one would miss her. All of the people in her village didn't even know she existed. And her father would blame himself for letting her run off. She would come back when the time was right, but for now, she just wanted her own life, and not be restricted! She rode her horse away until she couldn't see Rohan anymore.

She napped under an apple tree, and when she awoke, she saw a city. Tuluvaran to be exact. ' I rode straight through Gondor? How many days has it been? I might as well go find a job,' she thought to herself as she trudged into the city. The city didn't have a welcoming aura to it, but she wasn't drawn away either. It seemed perfect to start her new life, but where? It was bustling full of people, all trying to get somewhere, but never getting there. It didn't help that she feared crowds. She made her way into a tavern, which was damp and musty, and smelled strongly of pigs and ale. She liked it. It wasn't clean and perfect, but it wasn't evil either. Assortments of people were everywhere, and conversations, some friendly, some not, filled the air. After she put her horse in the stables, she went up to the barkeeper and asked if he was hiring.

Maeg snapped out of her memory. The old man was asking for a drink.
"Did you hear me, missy? I said I WANT TWO ALES!" She was shocked by being yelled at by an old man who seemed deaf himself, but quickly apologized, and went to get his drinks. As she brought them to him, a figure at the door seemed to catch her eye. A man, who seemed unaware of his surroundings, had just stamped his feet in the doorway and sat at a table in the corner. Maeg set the old man's drinks down and went over to the younger man.
'He seems handsome,' she thought, then she scolded herself. 'Oh, stop it, you would think anyone was handsome after talking to that ancient man!' She forgot her lustful thoughts, and asked him if he wanted a drink.

[Edited on 8/27/2006 by Aravis17]
wordsmith
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 26, 2006 03:36
Calun Walked past the forge, then stopped and walked back. He smelt the furnace and the sharp tang of metal. It had been overlong since he had been at work. His hand slid unconciencly over his hammer and then his tongs for he longed to work again. He had worked as a weaponsmith, forging swords and building sheilds and the like for any who had the coin to pay. But now, there were too many selling cheap, shody weapons for him to be able to earn a living. Besides, being half Khand didnt help. He was often taken for a Haradrim and they were not welcomed by many. Because of this he nurtured a deep bitterness both for his fathers kind and his mothers kind, as they both treated him like dirt as they could see little of themselves in him. These days, he worked as a labourer mostly, scavanging work where he coul just to pay fo his food. Still, he could forge weapons that were strong and lasted well.
Calun didnt care much for the outside world, so long as it left him alone to live as best as he could.
Standing here, reminising didnt help, he told himself. As he shock himself, mentally a boy came out of the forge. He was tall, definitly Rohirric. Calum wondered why a Rohirric boy was here, in ithilen, in this backwater town.
"Hello, My name is Calun. What be yours and why are you here? In Ithilen of all places?" He called out.
Salkiethia
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 26, 2006 05:31
He slipped out of his house easily, ignoring the knowing looks the two guards gave him. They were easy to ignore - he'd learned a long time ago that when he focused on one thing in particular, everything else slid around him easily. His dark hair, pulled back in a single plait today, thumped gently against his back with every long stride that he took into the center of the city. He was meeting someone today, and though he was a little early, he thought that perhaps that was a good thing. Maybe he could find something to amuse himself with while he waited for his friend to appear.

No such luck - as soon as he came into sight of the appointed meeting place, the young noble caught sight of a plain looking man in his early twenties. Yes, his friend was here, all right. Sachiel sauntered over and tapped Rachal on the shoulder, expecting to surprise him. Much to his own disappointment, however, the man replied to his action with a soft chuckle and a slight nod of the head, the only acknowledgement that he knew Sachiel to be there at all. The nobleman paused for a moment, wondering if Rachal was busy observing something. He followed his gaze to where it was fixed upon a pair of lasses, fluttering at their beaus. With a roll of his eyes, Sachiel tugged impatiently at the sleeve of Rachal's shirt.

With typical Rachal-ness, the street thief turned the opposite way, in effect making Sachiel have to either follow his arm around the long way or let go. Sachiel chose to let go. Rachal gave him a quick grin.

"So anxious to be gone, young sir?" he asked. There was a faint difference in his speech that was nigh impossible to place for anyone who didn't know him. Sachiel knew him and from that knew that the difference was due to where the thief had been born - Rohan, not Gondor at all.

"Yes," he answered promptly to Rachal's question. "I've spent too much time cooped up already today and I'd like to be out as soon as I can. The only question I have for you is how did you manage to procure a horse?"

The sly look Sachiel received in reply convinced him it would be better for him not to know, lest he get ideas and turn to thievery as a way to amuse himself when things became dull around the home.

"Never-mind it, I don't want to know," he said hastily.

"All right then," Rachal replied with a sigh. "But it would have been quite the amazing story, I must say."

"Save it," Sachiel muttered.

"Sorry - I didn't quite catch that. What did you say?" Rachal inquired. From the look on his face, Sachiel knew he had indeed heard. The man's hearing was as sharp as an Elf's must be, the nobleman thought to himself.

The two of them moved quickly through the not-too crowded streets of Lebennin. Sachiel's dappled mare, Darling, was already here, saddled and ready to go. A dark gelding - nearly black he looked - was pawing agitatedly at the ground next to her. Sachiel raised an eyebrow at his companion to ask the question. Rachal answered by going up to the beast and swinging into the saddle with the grace of one who has done so many times. Sachiel mounted a little less gracefully, but just as quickly and turned Darling's head towards the open gates. With a gentle nudge to her sides, he moved out with Rachal trailing just a little ways behind him and slightly off to the side.

************
"Do you ever wonder what's out there?"

"What do you mean?" Sachiel asked. He and Rachal were sprawled across the grass carelessly while the two horses grazed around them. Every so often one or the other would snort and paw at the ground.

"Out there," Rachal reiterated, motioning with his hand into the air, as if circling a globe. "It's so big, and I've seen so little and you even less than that. Don't you wonder what else there is to this kingdom of yours?"

Sachiel laughed. "Of mine? Don't let the king or any of his loyal subjects catch you saying that, Rachal," he scolded playfully. "They may not take it the same way you mean it."

"But do you wonder?"

"I wonder, as every child does, I suppose," Sachiel replied firmly. "But I grow out of wondering and then into accepting things as they are."

"That is the difference between us two, I believe," Rachal noted.

"Yes." Then, "Why did you want to know?"

"I was curious, of course," Rachal said, "but also I wanted to know if you would ever consider leaving Lebennin as I did Edoras."

"Whyfor?"

"To explore, of course," the thief said, as if it should have been common sense. Which, considering the source, perhaps it should be.

Sachiel paused to consider it for a while. "Explore to where?" he asked.

"Oh, anywhere we choose," Rachal replied grandly, propping himself up on his elbows to stare his gelding in the eyes. The beast had decided it wanted to nibble on him. "Oh, go away, ye silly old beastie," he commanded. The gelding backed up a bit and returned to grazing.

"Suppose I said yes."

"Well brother, then you are in for something much different that you'd ever expect."

************
It was late as they rode up to the township. Sachiel hadn't even been certain it was a town. It looked more like a stack of hay-bales seen from a distance, and only Rachal's instance that it was indeed, a town, kept him from wearily nudging Darling forward to keep looking for a place to supply lodging. Rachal and his gelding on the other hand seemed plenty full of energy. In fact, Sachiel had never seen the street thief so alive since that first night when he'd met him. Rachal had been twenty then, and Sachiel twelve. The friendship itself was strange, and with the age gap, even more so. Neither of the two really cared about that.

Rachal swung down off his mount and ground tethered him before going over and helping a very saddle sore Sachiel to dismount.

"Here," the thief offered, holding out his water-skin. "Take a drink, will ye? Ye're lookin' right parched, ye are." Rachal had reverted a little back to his old way of speaking now, the way he'd spoken for years before meeting cultured Sachiel. He sometimes slipped back into the more familiar and harsher sounding wording of his childhood when he was excited or tired. Not it seemed to be excitement rather than weariness.

"You sure this is a real place?" Sachiel kept asking. Every time the answer was the same, and he would hang his head, eyes mostly closed, looking like a horse about to fall asleep on its feet.

"C'mon," Rachal urged. "Time to get you to bed. You look exhausted."

Sachiel didn't argue, and let his friend set up a comfortable 'nest' of sorts in the loft of someone's stable. He fell asleep at once while Rachal slipped outside to take care of the horses.

************
The next day dawned bright and early and Rachal woke Sachiel up by shaking him. "Come on," he urged. "Can't be here when the owner of the place comes around, now can we?"

Sachiel shook his head and stumbled down the ladder and out of the stables into the punishing sunlight. He could see now that they were on the edge of a town.

"So," Rachal said, grinning and all too awake for having spent the whole night up, "shall we go into town, fellow adventurer?"


EDIT: Because the spelling mistakes from midnight last night were annoying me.



[Edited on 27/8/2006 by Salkiethia]
minstral_of_the_dawn
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 27, 2006 06:23
Leoma and been in the town of Tuluvaran for only a few days. The gangly golden-haired young man had finished another day of trading. He would often go to Gondor to trade for goods for his family. And even though he was trained as a warrior he was happier doing this then soldiering. Unlike most boys his age.
He was poorly dressed, with rough farmer's cloths, and mud laden boots. His horse, who he led behind him, was better kept then he was. This was through the simple fact that he hated dressing up in his armour, it was hot and uncomfortable and he couldn't stand it. So he avoided it whenever he could.
He walked into the taven he had been staying in the last few nights, making sure his horse was well tended to before hand. Another day, nothing out of the ordinary. He took a seat at an empty table, calling a serving girl over to order some food and drink.

OOC: Hello everyone! I'm back from my trip!
pitya
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 28, 2006 03:28
Modig stepped through the doorway to find a man with dark hair and a pensive look in his eye. In an instant, Modig saw he was a Southerner, probably Haradrim; it put him slightly at ease. Modig didn't trust Southrons, but they often didn't trust him, either, so a sort of mutual distrust developed--it was those that trusted him he didn't care for. In the diming light of evening, this man seemed more of a welcome visitor than many he could name in the town.

"Hello, My name is Calun. What be yours and why are you here? In Ithilen of all places?"

Modig caught the man's eyes wandering to the hammer and fuller resting on a rack, and he smiled slightly; "You are a crafstman?"

Calun looked to him, and Modig caught sight of a small variation, perhaps in his face, in his being--he was not of Harad. The man of Rohan could distinguish that much from his dealings with Southrons.

"I am Modig," he added, stepping forward and offering his hand. "And I might ask the same of you. There are not too many Southerners seen in Tuluvaran." At least, none that would wish to be seen. Modig had seen more than few passing by, gone as soon as come; and Tuluvan was just large enough to accomplish this, though it was still a town.

[Edited on 29/8/2006 by pitya]
wordsmith
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 28, 2006 08:14
"I am Modig, And I might ask the same of you. There are not too many Southerners seen in Tuluvaran." The boy, or man as he seemed to Calun, replied. Definately Rohirric. You could tell by the voice, Calun thought.
" Yes, I am a craftsman, but there is little want for my craft these days. And as for your other question, I was born here, son of a Gondorian man and a Khandish woman. This is enough for me to be treated lower than dirt by many here. I am an armssmith but it has been overlong since I have practiced my craft." Calun sighed heavily as his gaze slid back to the beatiful tools arrayed upon the wall.
"These are some beautiful tools. Mine were as such once but now, they are fit to be used for naught but woodwork and such." Calun spat as he finshed the last sentence. His dislike of such crafts shown only too clearly in his strong, mohagony face.
ElfmaidenofLorien
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 29, 2006 04:38
(sorry it took so long for me to start. If I get mixed up about anything just tell me and I'll change it.)

Hyldo rode into the town of Tuluvaran. He was from Rohan, but wished to escape from the bonds of his family. He was still young, but he was very strong. He rode up to the tavern hoping to find somewhere to sleep. He tied his horse outside then walked in. He found a maiden serving and decided to ask her. "Do you have any rooms for a traveller to stay in?" Hyldo asked.
'Not even the gods above can separate the two of us, no nothing can come between you and I.'
Salkiethia
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 29, 2006 08:32
Sachiel grimaced as Darling broke into a bouncy trot. Next to him, on the dark brown gelding, Rachal looked like he was having the time of his life. The street thief was posting evenly with his trotting mount's movement, and seemed none the worse for wear, despite the late night that the two of them had had in traveling south from Lebennin. The dark haired noble shook his head, watching his friend's flamboyant theatrics. Of course, having lived in Rohan since he was young, Rachal would have much better horsemanship than anyone from outside that region, no matter how well they thought they understood horses. Sachiel squashed the jealousy welling up in himself quickly. He and Darling were just as striking, in their own way, and perhaps it was better for Rachal to draw attention to himself, rather than direct it at Sachiel.

The town itself was small, as far as Sachiel himself could see. There might be a few newcomers to this place, but for the most part, everyone would know everyone else on sight. He made a mental note to tell Rachal to keep his hands to himself. If anything went missing, newcomers were the most likely to be targeted as the perpetrators, even if someone in the town itself had a reputation for stealing things.

Rachal pulled up his horse and Sachiel's Darling slowed without a signal from her rider. Sachiel supposed he should be a little annoyed that Darling followed Rachal commands, even when the man wasn't riding her, but he couldn't seem to muster the energy.

Now they were in the town itself, nearing the center. A few horses were tied up at posts, but for the most part, it seemed that people around here walked from place to place. He wasn't sure how welcoming they would be to newcomers, even if they were all from the same realm. Best to tread carefully in this unknown territory, and let Rachal take to the lead.

************
"Do you want to go in there?" Rachal asked. He'd halted his horse in front of a post where another horse was tied. Sachiel just looked at him, not bothering to answer. Rachal got the message. He dismounted and groundtied his gelding before dragging Sachiel bodily from the saddle and ground-tying his mount as well.

"Come on then," Rachal said, pulling Sachiel with him into the darkness of the tavern.

Sachiel noticed the sign bore a white stag leaping over a foaming mug of ale, but no words. So this place wasn't a particularly literate one, then. Well, that was good to know. In places without a high degree of literacy, rumors flew like wildfire over dry grass.

***********
The inside of the building was no darker than any other tavern or pub Sachiel had been in, but for some reason it felt a little darker, a little more intimidating. He tried to reassure himself, told himself it was only because he was far away from home and couldn't easily 'run home to daddy' if something went wrong. With such feelings in him, Sachiel took extra care to stick close to Rachal, feeling that the street thief could get him out of any sticky situation more easily than he could himself.

It wasn't particularly crowded in here, or particularly damp or anything like that. So why was he so out of sorts? Sachiel felt the hair rising on the back of his neck and tugged at Rachal's sleeve. "I don't want to stay here," he growled to his companion. "I don't like it here."

Rachal nodded absently, still tugging his younger friend through the maze of wooden tables, serving wenches and spilt food and ale congealing on the floor. Sachiel tugged more insistantly to no response. He tried to get out of Rachal's tight grip on his forearm, but the man wouldn't let go, and ignored the terse words from his companion. People turned to stare at Sachiel as he struggled against Rachal's grip on his arm, and their eyes made his desire to escape wilt. He stuck close to Rachal, as the man approached someone sitting alone and slid into a chair opposite them, indicating to Rachal with a little motion of his hand that the lad was to take the seat near Rachal.

Sachiel did so, looking intently at the man Rachal had been so determined to sit with. There was nothing out of the ordinary about him that the young nobleman could see. Rachal looked very intent on him, though, so Sachiel kept his gaze level, trying to discern what made this man so special, and how Rachal had known he was here.

The man looked up and Sachiel saw something like recognition flicker in his eys before the man saw Rachal. Then true recognition flared, and he leaned back a little in his chair. Rachal leaned forward.

"Hello, Hadrian," he said, his voice low and conspiritorial. "Mind explaining what you happen to be doing here?"

Sachiel knew he recognized the name. Hadrian, Hadrian - yes! He knew the name. It was the captain of his father's guard. And if Hadrian was here...what did that mean? So that had been the flicker he'd seen. Why that Rachal should know him as well, well, that truly was a mystery now, wasn't it?
minstral_of_the_dawn
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 29, 2006 11:03
Leoma ate his meal silently, no one to converse with. He didn't drink much, figuring that a hangover wouldn't be the best course of action at the moment. The inn wasn't exactly what one would call welcoming. It was more a common gathering for theives and cut-throats. But he wasn't concerned. He looked to poor to be troubled by any, and even then, he knew how to defend himself. But still...he kept glancing about warrily, uncertain of what the shadows held.
Two people had just entered, had made a bit of a ruckus. Leoma had watched intently, it was a nice break from the monotony at the very least. They seemed, however, to get themselves sorted out soon enough. And started talking to another of the guests.
Leoma resumed eating. Then thought for a mometn, his life was so dull...some action...that was all he asked for. He put his fork down, his apetite suddenly forgotten.
Aravis17
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 29, 2006 11:58
The "handsome" man sat down, and kept to himself. Maeg headed over to him, and kindly offered him a drink. He agreed, but only to a small one, and wanted some meat as well. She consented, and brought it to him. His name was Leoma, and she wanted to ask him more questions, where he came from, why was he here, what did he like, but he looked like all he wanted was to be left alone, so that's what Maeg did. And besides, two more people walked in, and she had to serve them next. The other serving girls only served a specific table, and Maeg, who was the main server, the Barmaid, was in charge of all of the tables, refilling glasses, serving meals, greeting guests...she hardly had time for herself. Once she was done serving them, another man walked in.

"Do you have any rooms for a traveler to stay in?" She was startled by this direct question to her, and paused. She then nodded, and greeted him.
"Welcome to the Leaping Stag, called that by those who who can read the small print that I added underneath the sign, when I found what this place was called. The sign was made by the bartender, who cannot read, but carves beautifully. There is a room available upstairs, but it is a hobbit-sized room, so unless you want to be uncomfortable, I can understand if you choose to stay somewhere else..." she paused, waiting for the man to reply, hopefully with his name. She always greeted people with this stanza, but instead of telling about the rooms, she normally followed the "carves beautifully" with "How may I serve you today?" but the traveler had already asked his question.
ElfmaidenofLorien
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 30, 2006 09:09
"I am Hyldo." Hyldo said. "I may find somewhere else, but I think I will have a drink first." Hyldo said as he took a seat.
As he waited for the maiden to come back with his drink he thought about Rohan. His dark brown hair fell in front of his face. He could hear his father saying "If you wish not to be a warrior you are no son of mine!" Hyldo's father wanted him to be a great warrior like himself, but that was not Hyldo's plan. Hyldo had always dreamed of being a great adventurer. "I don't want to be a warrior father! I said I wanted to be traveller, an adventurer. You can't force me to fight!" Hyldo had said. His father hadn't planned on him leaving Rohan, but Hyldo couldn't stand staying home, his fathers eyes glaring at him. But he felt a sting of tears coming to his eyes. He missed his sister and mother greatly. "Do not send him away, he is your son!" Mother cried. His sister stood there and tears streamed down her cheeks, but his heart was hardened,he never wanted to return, not even for his sister and mother. Then he snapped out of his thoughts, the maiden had brought him his drink. "Thanks." Hyldo said gruffly.

[Edited on 30/8/2006 by ElfmaidenofLorien]
'Not even the gods above can separate the two of us, no nothing can come between you and I.'
minstral_of_the_dawn
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 30, 2006 04:03
Leoma looked at Hyldo. He seemed to be very upset for some reason or another. He paused, then walked over to where the man was seated. He seemed to be from Rohan...even if his hair colour was off...he just had that feel about him. Leoma hoped so for he felt quite a bit out of place.
"Mind if I join you? No one should drink alone." Without waiting for an answer he sat down at the empty chair nearest to him.
ElfmaidenofLorien
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 31, 2006 04:06
(I guessing Leoma is from Rohan, if not I can change it.)

Hyldo nodded at Leoma. He was kind of glad to have company. "What are you doing in this little town. you don't look like you live here." Hyldo asked. As Leoma spoke Hyldo stared down at his mud caked boots. He had to ford through a stream at one stage of his journey and the mud never came off his boots. Then Hyldo heard his horse whinny. "I hope you'll excuse me but I must get my horse to a stable." Hyldo said as he rose from his chair and walked out.

He soon found a nice inn, although the rooms were small he had chosen it because it had a stable. Hyldo didn't leave the stable until he knew his horse was fed and brushed. When he came back into his room he pulled off his boots and threww them into a corner then he laid down in bed, but he couldn't get to sleep.
'Not even the gods above can separate the two of us, no nothing can come between you and I.'
minstral_of_the_dawn
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 31, 2006 04:17
"What are you doing in this little town. you don't look like you live here
"I come to trade...this is but the first stop on the route I usually take. And no, I don't live here, I'm from Rohan." Leoma said this without minding. He had nothing to hide. He was nothing out of the ordinary.
"I hope you'll excuse me but I must get my horse to a stable."
"But of course, I know the value of the horse. It was a pleasure talking to you."
Leoma sat back, now feeling rather alone. He hoped someone would talk to him. He was just a little to shy to but in on someone else's conversation.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 31, 2006 11:26
Durithil breasted a large hill that overlooked Tuluvaran. His ears pricked forward at the sound of the prosperous village. On his back, a fair maiden sighed with relief. She had made it down from Edoras in one piece. A likely place for a breather looked to be a tavern that seemed less violent than the ones the maid had been to.

Díore scrutinized the area around the village before entering it. She had heard things about this place, the usual stories of ruffians and traders and travelers, but being alone for the first time in a while, she decided to take chances and see what this adventure would bring.

Díore reined Durithil in front of the tavern and tied him to a hitching post. Trusting that no one would steal him, she stepped through the door and entered a crowded chamber. There were many different types of people here, some from her city, some from the North, some from Gondor, and every other imaginable place. She inhaled deeply, taking in the smell of dirty, grimy bodies, ale, and drunks. Not too pleased with what she found, the daughter of a Rohirric captain sat in a corner and proceeded to watch the happenings in the hope of finding a friend amongst these people.

Díore knew that she looked vulnerable; her delicate body and fair face attracted lustful looks from men. But in truth, she could handle herself if such a situation arose. Her sharp tongue oft times sent men going, and if worse came to worse, a bit of hand-to-hand fighting wouldn't hurt her either. She gripped her sword as her green eyes scanned the crowed for one kind face, just one that would welcome her in the midst of this array of people.
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
minstral_of_the_dawn
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: August 31, 2006 12:20
Leoma noticed the new arrival. A young, beautiful, woman. Probably from Rohan as well from the look of her. He caught her eye, motioning to the seat across from his own. She looked troubled and tense, so he tried not to make himself seem threatening, which was hard for him to do at any rate.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 01, 2006 04:13
Hyldo laid in his bed for some time, but he couldn't stay still for long. His thoughts turned back to the mean words his father had said to him and the tears on his sisters face. He finally sat up. "I think I'll go back to the tavern. At least talking to someone will get my thoughts off home." Hyldo said. He stood and quickly walked out off the inn.

When he came back to the tavern he saw Leoma. He walked over and sat next to him. "I hope you don't mind if I sit here again. I felt alone at the inn." Hyldo said, he smirked. Then he noticed the young maid. She was very beautiful and he could not take his eyes off her. When she walked near them Hyldo jumped to his feet and offered her his seat. "My lady, you would like to sit here?" Hyldo asked.
'Not even the gods above can separate the two of us, no nothing can come between you and I.'
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 01, 2006 05:12
"I hope you don't mind if I sit here again. I felt alone at the inn."
"Not at all." Leoma said cheerfully, "It is good to have some company for a change."
Leoma jumped slightly as Hyldo got to his feet, he hadn't been expecting that. He was very curtious in his offer of his seat. Leoma pulled another chair from another table (that was thankfully empty) and put it at their's. Waiting.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 01, 2006 09:50
Maeg brought the young woman her drink, noticing the men urging her to sit with them.
"If you are having doubts about sitting with them, I'll go with you." Maeg said gently.
"I'm about to get on my break anyway, and two men and one woman only spells trouble. What do you say?"
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 01, 2006 12:45
Leoma acted wounded, "My lady, you slight us poor gentle men. We are no trouble at all, but if you still fear why don't you join us as well...for though we are young we are not dishonest, and intend no harm."
Though he said this dramatically, he meant it sincearely. He pulled another chair to their table.
"Please." He motioned to the chair.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 01, 2006 06:58
" Yes, I am a craftsman, but there is little want for my craft these days. And as for your other question, I was born here, son of a Gondorian man and a Khandish woman. This is enough for me to be treated lower than dirt by many here."

That was it--Modig knew there was something...something out of place, about the man. Not even out of place; merely different. He'd heard of the Khandish people in the south, though never met one; everything was hearsay from Southrons, who were not overly gracious in the judgements, if they were gracious at all. Appraising the man standing before him now, Modig well kept such judgements in mind while trying to make his own. People might call him too calculating, but he didn't listen to them. After all, it was better to be too calculating than to inadvertantly create enemies, or offend someone without good cause.

"I am an armssmith but it has been overlong since I have practiced my craft." Calun sighed heavily as his gaze slid back to the beatiful tools arrayed upon the wall. These are some beautiful tools. Mine were as such once but now, they are fit to be used for naught but woodwork and such."

Modig agreed nonchalantly. "I'm sorry to hear that--though I would not deem woodwork as an entirely distasteful occupation." He'd made liasons with a woodworker's daughter once. "My tools are not much better, as you can see," he nodded toward the rack, stepping in that direction. "The man who owns this shop does not take much pride in his work, I'm sorry to say." After glancing over to Calun, trying to read his face, Modig added, "Better for me, I suppose, since the folk in town prefer my workmanship to his; what I wouldn't give to forge swords, instead of tools and horseshoes."

+++++

Randirn carried the heavy pail with both hands, trying not to spill the heavy contents--he'd never known water could be so cumbersome. Always the stableboy had looked after such matters, feeding and watering; but now the lad was running errands for the innkeeper, and that meant he wouldn't be back before the late watch. In this town, as in all small towns, 'news' generally meant gossip, or hearsay, something someone thought someone else should know, for their own well-being, of course. Several new arrivals had come into the inn that night seeking a bed and a good meal, and far be it from Randirn to debar such people. After all, more guests meant more money, which meant more pay, which meant more ale; he could hardly argue more ale.

He entered the stable, moving as smoothly as he could toward the final stall--a mule belonging to the blacksmith Rowe, kept here for a certain amount of upkeep--and gave it the water. Working with animals had always been a comfort for him, ever since he was little. His father was a farmer, and therefore Randirn had grown up around beasts; goats, horses, chickens, pigs. Some of his friends had decided to pursue other interests, away from Tuluvaran, but Randirn found himself content to live in the town of his birth, if nothing else at least out of self-preservation. He knew he was not particularly resourceful in the concept of surviving 'off the land'. In truth, it did not sound all that appealing; he much prefered his warm, dry bed just apart from the stables. He shared the small hut with two others from the village--the stableboy, Gondorian, like him, and another man named Modig; he was from Rohan, or so he claimed, and with his wheat-coloured hair, Randirn was inclined to believe him. He never quite trusted the foreigner; he'd seem him talking with strangers passing through, offering to board their horse for free, and let them sleep in the hayloft. There wasn't too much harm in it that Randirn could see, and so he didn't tell the innkeeper--it also helped his silence that Modig was five years older, pushing thirty, and almost twice his size. But still, it irked him. Most of those who walked free on Modig's graciousness were swarth-skinned, obviously Southrons who didn't want to be seen.

"Where are ye, boy!" a deep voice barked from the kitchen across the way--the inkeeper needed him, and always insisted on calling him 'boy', even though Randirn was well into his twenties.

"I'll get there when I can!" he shouted back, patting the beast's head.

((intro to new character, will do something with him in the future when i have more time. side note: let's try to keep our posts reasonably full/long, if you don't mind. i know it's hard with dialogue))

[edit--typos]

[Edited on 3/9/2006 by pitya]

[Edited on 3/9/2006 by pitya]
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 02, 2006 11:39
Rachal and Hadrian launched into a heated discussion. Sachiel listened intently without seeming to listen - a useful lesson he'd acquired from time spent with Rachal. Unfortunately, Rachal had probably known that tactic too well for it to be of any use: both he and Hadrian were speaking in a dialect Sachiel could not understand, though he recognized the origins of the language. It was from the south - probably Harad, as they were the country with the most contact with the northern parts of the world. Sachiel let his attention drift from the harsh southern dialect spoken behind him to the more familiar speech that was coming from the mouths of those in the tavern. It was loud in here at times, and then everyone would hush, as if they were all trying to breathe at the same time.

Sachiel slipped out of his seat and began walking towards the exit when a young woman entered and he was swept back in the ensuing competition from the men to get her attention. She ended up sitting with one of the barmaids and two middle-aged men. Sachiel took a moment or three to stare at her, noticing how much it seemed that she didn't quite belong here. She was of slight build, and he did well to conceal his contempt. Such fair lasses didn't belong in places such as this. Instead of making comment on it as he would have done before coming to know Rachal, Sachiel used the momentary distraction to slip out of the tavern all together. He broke into the bright sunlight for the second time that day, wincing as his eyes adjusted.

Now where was that stable? Sachiel took off, hoping his sense of direction hadn't been too severly skewed with when he left the stables the first time, early that morning. Instead of riding Darling he led the mare, leaning on her as he walked. She didn't seem to mind much, though at times she stopped walking and gave him a look like she was asking why he was walking on his own two feet when it was obviously much faster to just ride her. It made Sachiel grin a little.

He found the stable and walked around it, trying to decide where the course was that would take him home. He'd decided that Hadrian was here to bring him back home. Sachiel didn't plan on being dragged back home, so he wanted to leave now before Hadrian could come out of the tavern where Rachal was so cleverly distracting him and drag him home. When Sachiel thought he had the proper course found, he mounted Darling, setting her head in the right direction when he heard a sharp barking voice calling for some boy. The cook in Sachiel's household had always used that voice with him, and always called him boy, so Sachiel froze in the saddle and waited, wondering if it was the same person. Rationally he knew it couldn't be, but a bit of paranoia at the moment was messing with his rationale.

"I'll get there when I can!" someone shouted back. Sachiel grinned. It sounded like the reply he used to make, before the cook had decided not to take anymore cheek from him. After that incident, Sachiel had meekly (for him at least) followed any orders cook gave him.

Curious now as to the voices that evoked memories from his younger days, Sachiel turned Darling's head away from the road he'd been planning on taking and dismounted, walking alongside his sweet horse while she snorted something about crazy two-leggers that couldn't make up their minds about whether to ride or walk. Leading Darling, the young noble came closer to the stable, looking for the owner of the young male voice or the owner of the deep, gruff sounding one. He found the former first.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 02, 2006 09:08

"I'm sorry to hear that--though I would not deem woodwork as an entirely distasteful occupation. My tools are not much better, as you can see, The man who owns this shop does not take much pride in his work, I'm sorry to say. Better for me, I suppose, since the folk in town prefer my workmanship to his; what I wouldn't give to forge swords, instead of tools and horseshoes."
Calun looked at the youth and asked him,
"What did you say your name was?" the youth replied with a simple,
"Modig"
"Have you any more work to do today?" he looked up and saw the red stained sky.
"Check that, tonight. If so, the mayhaps I could help, lighten the load between us." he added hopefully.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 03, 2006 05:25
Hyldo kept quiet when the maidens sat. He glanced at the maiden from Rohan every so often, she reminded him of his sister. He drank slowly. "What brings you here maiden?" Hyldo asked.

(I'm sorry I couldn't post long! I will be gone for a few days, just to give you the heads up!)
'Not even the gods above can separate the two of us, no nothing can come between you and I.'
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 05, 2006 11:22
Díore sat alongside the men and felt their eyes on her. "I am from Edoras, but I seek adventure as a warrior. It might sound a bit odd, but I have wanted to travel since I was very young. My name is Díore, by the way. And might I ask your names?" Her hand strayed to the dagger at her side. These people seemed to be decent, but she couldn't take any chances. Once or twice a man had tried to take advantage of her, but they found out to their cost that she wasn't to be trifled with.

Díore breathed in deeply again, forcing herself to calm down. There was nothing here to fear, she had heard. But at the same time, every town or city has its own skeletons in the closet, and the maiden from Rohan didn't want to be unprepared. As she waited for a reply, her eyes scanned the rest of the room. She had noted the disappearance of two other men, but in truth, the attention of the two men in front drove all other thoughts from her mind.
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 05, 2006 12:44
Leoma rose to his feet, and bowed in respect, keeping his hands clear of his own sword.
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Diore, I am Leoma, also of Rohan if you wish to know. I believe that my companion and I would be honored if you would join us in conversation at our table." The young man stood silently waiting for a reply. He had always been told that he had a nack for fair words. But he was not dishonest in his words in the least.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 05, 2006 02:54
"Come, on, Diore, it can't hurt. And I'm Maegdan, Maeg for short," she held out her hand in greeting to Leoma, and took a seat, even though it was clear that they wanted Diore more than her. She didn't care. She always had a sense of protection about her, and seeing as her mother died, and her father went off to battle, she needed to care for herself now. And that meant taking care of others whom she cared about. And Diore seemed to be needing someone to protect her. But these men seemed harmless enough. And Diore seemed to be quite able to care for herself. Still, something wasn't quite right.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 05, 2006 03:21
"It is a pleasure to meet you, Maeg." Leoma said, shaking her hand firmly, but gently.
"It is good to have you as a companion at our table, for as it is often said, 'the more the merrier.'" Leoma smiled brightly, his youth was reflected on his face quite clearly.
"Are you from around here, Maeg? Or have you travelled far?" He asked sitting down.
pitya
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 05, 2006 05:26
"What did you say your name was?"

"Modig"

"Have you any more work to do today?" he looked up and saw the red stained sky.

"Check that, tonight. If so, the mayhaps I could help, lighten the load between us." he added hopefully.

Modig smiled slighty, and nodded; he was entirely for having another smith around to help with the work: the gods knew Rowe never carried much of the weight. Calun promised to be, if not an interesting acquatinence, at least a good hand; the southerner seemed entirely honest as of yet, something Modig respected.

"Indeed. Perhaps you wish to take a room at the inn? I share quarters with two others there, in the back. If naught else, we may house you there..." The man of Rohan glanced up, and, guaging the sunset, offered, "Perhaps we may head there now, seeing as how my master is not likely to be back any minute soon."

At an agreement from Calun, Modig proceeded to close the shop, place things in arrangement; horseshoes any number of sizes slid onto organized racks, the baker's cooking racks now straight and workable--they'd somehow been trampled by an ox, Modig couldn't even guess how--and the various odds and ends collected after the day. Rowe would be back that night, of course, before it fell too late, but at that point he wouldn't have enough initiative to do it himself before turning in.

Glancing over the shop one more time, Modig nodded towards the village center. "Let's see what mischief is being contrived tonight."

+++++

Randirn had just finished with the steeds when he heard another approach; without looking, he could tell it was a horse, and released an inward groan--not another one. As much as he bluffed the higher-ups, the cook and inkeeper and such, he wasn't overly fond of keeping them waiting, for it meant more hardship for him. Being a grown man, one might think a cook's wrath was nothing to bother about, but when the cook provided your food, you gave at least an indication of compliance. Though Randirn made a point of staking his claim in the matter--hence the backtalk. He might do as they say, but he let it be known loud and clear that he could refuse, if he wanted to. At least, in theory.

And so he was reluctant to admit another beast, thinking it would require more of the usual, food, water, brushdown, specific instructions dictated by the master that were utterly ridiculous, and were generally ignored; time. However, when he turned, surprise met him.

A young man was leading a mare, trussed up for journeying already; they looked to be going, not coming. Probably forgot something, Randirn mused, though he could't guess why someone would leave so soon after arriving; Tuluvaran was not that kind of town.

"Can I help you, master?" he asked, putting aside the bucket.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 06, 2006 11:53
Díore smiled slightly. "It is wonderful to meet all of you. I have heard much of Tuluvaran, but I wanted to experience it on my own." She visibly relaxed and sighed heavily. "What is your business here?" she asked, her green eyes searching each one for a hidden motive, but her instincts warned her of nothing unusual.

--------------------------------

Outside, Durithil scented something on the breeze, and it caused the stallion to whicker nervously. He didn't know what it was; horses know when something is wrong, but they can't always directly pinpoint it. His ebony head came up, and he strained at his reins. A man tried to calm him, but Durithil snapped at him in panic. The whites of his eyes showed in a fearful gaze. His whickering turned into a full-chested neigh.

--------------------------------

Díore heard the commotion and stood up abruptly. "Beg pardon," she muttered to her companions. Unsheathing her dagger, Díore ran outside and went to Durithil. "What is it, boy?" she asked, stroking his neck to calm him. An overwhelming fear of being watched came to her, and she froze, not daring to turn around.

(This seems a typical place for some drama, but the whole incident can be nothing. Whatever anyone makes of it will be interesting.)
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 06, 2006 02:37
Leoma smiled, "I come to trade, I have done so for five years running now, this is but the first stop along my estalished route."
Leoma heard a horse outside neigh in what he could desipher as fright. He did not think much of it until Diore rose and left. After a moment he followed, curious as to what was going on.
His own horse was calm and steady, though his ears flicked forward and back, as if to discover something hidden from sight. He stroked his horse's long face, looking about towards Diore and her own horse. He could see something behind her, but could barely make out what it was. But he felt no evil from the thing...or creature. A loud hiss, and meow, rose from the figure, and a large mangey cat sprung down from above the horse's stable, nearly landing atop of Diore's shoulder, before scampering away.
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 07, 2006 03:49
Díore laughed aloud with relief as the cat ran off into the nearby woods. The feeling of being watched was still there, however. It could have been just the villagers who had been viewing the incident. “It is all right, Durithil. It was just a cat.” She turned to Leoma, who was tending to his own horse. “Surely something such as a cat couldn’t have startled our horses this much, but then again, stranger things have happened.” Díore sighed and loosened the reins. Durithil strained on the reins and attempted to pull his mistress away. She retied him to the hitching post and said to him, “Easy, the fright has passed.” Continuing to stroke him until the black stallion relaxed, she felt her face warm with embarrassment from the encounter. Not daring to look at Leoma, Díore asked him, “You are a trader, you say? What wares do you have?”
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 07, 2006 10:03
"Stranger things indeed, but I have known many a horse to shy away from simpler things then a cat." He winced involintarily, remembering the time a horse had decided to do so when he had ridden him. In his youth and inexperiance he had fallen and broken his arm.
Leoma subconciously started to braid his own horse's mane.
“You are a trader, you say? What wares do you have?”

Leoma looked up breifly from his work. "I trade many things. Mostly minor farm tools, and wheat. But also I have among my stores, cloths and fabrics, a few good swords and weapons, and some decorative items I carve myself." He smiled, pleased with his ability to speak so freely.
"Most of my wares are nearby, some though, have to be ordered in advance, such as the weapons. It makes my job alot easier."
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Post RE: inherence (see ooc)
on: September 07, 2006 10:50
Díore glanced at Leoma in awe. "You carve things yourself? That is interesting. Might I see what you have sometime?" She untethered Durithil and mounted him. "Do you know of a livery stable around here that can look over my horse until the morrow? I plan on leaving at first light." She was reluctant to admit that she wanted to stay longer and get to know those who had greeted her, but the thrill of adventure was calling her. Díore looked upon Leoma with interest lighting up her eyes. Maybe he would come with her, being a young person from Rohan like herself. She would ask him later.
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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