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Post by Stormwall on Jan 10, 2017 3:50:50 GMT
Velaeri AldacerHis interaction with the gryphon remained nearly silent; he caught the edges of the conversation behind him. Wardings, venators, gifts: the dwarf was proving himself a gracious and able diplomat. This region could only benefit from trade with Idmidum and the other dwarven cities. In theory it could make for a safe waystation between the dwarves and Ashdell, to everyone's theoretical benefit. Such thoughts scrolled through the back of his mind. The bulk of his attention remained on the thousand-pound gryphon that had just deposited his sword in the street. He knelt, not an easy affair, and bent low to pick up the weapon. The motion put his head within prime pecking range of the gryphon's waraxe-sized beak. Even if he could fear the gryphon, though, he couldn't imagine it playing lethal tricks like that, or doing anything trivial or sneaky. The gryphon had gravitas. "Thank you," he said, as he stood and straightened. He sheathed the blade. "The elder said you protect this place -- that you have a bargain with them." His eyes tightened, but he went with his thought, despite the risk. "I lead caravans through here sometimes. The hills aren't always safe. Would you bargain with me?"
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 10, 2017 4:14:43 GMT
The gryphon chuffed low and long - a dismissive sound with feathers ruffled in mild offense accompanying it. Noble his intentions might be, far be it from a gryphon to trust anyone enough to make such an agreement having only just met them. That was a hard-won bargain, to be sure. What did he take her for? A tame beast?
~~~
The man stood wordless at the offerings of the dwarf and stared, jaw gaping, at the axe handed to him, "Well, you've got me, Master Dwarf. That be a fine gift," he looked around to his fellow townsfolk, noting their curiosity and their intrigue, "but I'll need to be discussing it with my people, and with the Elder."
So he wasn't the Elder.
"But you are most welcome to stay. We have a small Inn just down the road there. Not enough rooms for everyone, but I'm sure we can fit a few of your men into the barn lofts. Our food is bland but our water is the freshest you'll find for miles. Have a drink at our well, Master Dwarf, you and your friends must be very tired after that ordeal. We will talk more in the morning about this...ward."
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Post by Aldacer on Jan 16, 2017 6:27:28 GMT
Aldacer, very obviously sagging, nodded to the gryphon and centaur in respect as he walked over to the well. A pause and he dunked a bucket in. A nearby child offered him a ladle and he hefted the bucket to the edge of the well. A few gulps from the ladl, and then the dwarf pulled his helm back and off. With a clatter the gilded crown like thing fell to his feet, and the Venator dunked his head and beard deep into the icy pure water.
Up he came, gasping and sputtering. Colder than he anticipated then. Wringing his beard out, he smiled at the younger boy who had been watching him since handing him the ladle. There was a light in the lads eyes, a light the oft-grumpy dwarf knew all to well. The hunger of mischief and adventure. He pulled a simple iron torc from the brassard plate around his bicep. It was simple, crude. It was the mark of an apprentice Venator. Every senior was required to make one, in case they took a squire on the road. Handing it to the lad, who in truth was near a man, he nodded.
"Find your parents, have them find me at the Inn. If they wish a better life for you, I can't promise it, but I can give you a fighting chance."
With that, he turned, picking his helm up in one hand, beard still dripping water, and trundled towards the inn with a purpose. Food, bland or not, and a pipe, would hardly go amiss. Hopefully, Daerstun his dire ram, would behave in the stables of this town. The ram was huge, strong beyond belief, and near as crotchety and contrary as his owner, if not a lot more so increased than what the Venator was.
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 17, 2017 2:50:02 GMT
Velaeri AldacerThe gryphon's response was not, admittedly, all he could have hoped for. But nor was it outright rejection. He'd heard that exact chuff from diplomats and merchants waiting to be convinced. He caught the departing dwarf's nod and returned it, then put his focus back on the gryphon. "If I was to bargain with you," said Stormwall after a long moment, "I would have to understand what you could use, or what you desire." Best not to use words like need: that risked offense more than most of the elements of this conversation. Best not to just offer food, either: you used food to bargain with an animal, and it might offend the gryphon if she was as much a hunter as she looked. She clearly had no need for protection and little interest in ground-dweller company. What, then, could the village offer her? Respect and shelter were the only options that came to mind. Yet therein lay pitfalls too. Offer respect and be seen as an empty flatterer. "The Guilds who send these caravans would be grateful for your aid." He licked his lips nervously. "A kingdom would open up to you: all across Ashdell, no archer would dare fire at you, and you could find shelter and hospitality at your leisure." Worth a shot.
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Post by Velaeri on Jan 27, 2017 0:11:04 GMT
Ruffed ears back, hooded eyes half-lidded, the gryphon regarded the centaur with a look of quiet consideration. Seemed a good deal to be had - she knew the lands of Ashdell well enough, though they had not been part of her journeys for many years. Not since before the fall of the Empire. However, whether the decision was easy to make or not seemed beyond the present concern of the gryphon and with a deep intake of breath did she give the centaur a chatter of clicks from her beak while rising to all fours. Casually, then--as only the felidae types were want to do--she turned with a soft shake of her head and padded off down the road of the town, tail swaying at her hind. Somewhere back by the road she had a half eaten dinner waiting for her - a far more pressing matter for the giant beast. ~~~~ Next day... Rawn Claygen was a man of slight build that didn't quite fill out his clothing anymore like he once did in his prime. Old age had stricken him of anything quick but time had not been unkind to him. He was healthy, for certain - alert as a wild cat in his domain. Very few things escaped the knowledge of Claygen. He met with his sons and the other family heads the next morning well after sunrise in the town tavern situated not far from the Square. The Tavern had no name and was simply referred to as that. It was where Aldacer and a handful of the men were given shelter for the evening. When space ran out other homes were opened to the remaining travelers within the caravan. Stormwall was asked after his preference since very few members of Hallenrul could recall ever hosting a centaur. Wherever it was he chose to stay they made sure he was comfortable and had plenty to eat. Whether out of fear, respect, admiration, or simple hospitality might be difficult to say. An entire steer carcass, picked clean, had disappeared into the forest overnight. The gryphon was nowhere to be seen. "It's settled then," Claygen said quietly over a breakfast plate half-eaten as he sat at a table surrounded by his kin and trusted hands, "let us speak with this Master Dwarf about his offer. Bring him here when he wakes." Aldacer Stormwall
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Post by Stormwall on Jan 29, 2017 21:22:52 GMT
Velaeri AldacerHallenrul offered limited hospitality, and the caravan's twenty or so personnel stretched that to capacity. Stormwall, thanking the locals for their offer, ended up pitching a tent in the town oblong. (It didn't merit the name of a square.) Stormwall slept curled up on one side of the tent, with his saddlebags and tack on the other side among bushels of trade goods. He didn't sleep well, as if some basic part of his mind suspected another attack by the dead or a diving attack by a gigantic gryphon. A tent would be no defense against either. When he awoke, he felt somewhat embarrassed: neither one of those possibilities were rational, no matter how they'd affected his anxiety during the night. Up early, he chatted with the local sentry and ate a huge bowl of perfectly salted oat mash over the campfire. With his stomach settled, he asked a couple of questions and wound up at the nameless tavern. He ducked in through the door and straightened up until his scalp brushed the rafters. Those looked like the heads of the local families, congregated there at the main table. "My thanks for your hospitality," he said as a greeting. "I'm told the caravaneers slept and ate well too. I feel pretty comfortable in saying that Ashdell will be grateful. You seem to have everything you need, but if there's anything I can bring on my next trip, let me know and I'll see to it."
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Post by Sephoria the Undying on Jan 31, 2017 2:46:39 GMT
That next morning, another traveler had made it to the village from the road that intersected it. Sephoria walked at a steady pace toward the comforting thatched roofs and smoking chimney stacks in the distance. On the side of the road she saw a man tending to a flock of sheep. He stood there with his eyes transfixed upon her. Sometimes she was confused for a common bandit due to the state of her worn and mismatched armor. Fortunately the youthful woman's face was enough to sooth the paranoia of common village men, even if it perhaps emboldened the suspicions of their wives. She was used to the stares at any rate. Granted she couldn't really blame the man. After all Seph's armor was covered with streaks of dried blood, and she did have two feral vampire heads danging from a rope in her right hand. It was quite the macabre sight. "I was set upon on the road by vampires in the night. Does your village offer bounty for the disposal of dangerous beasts," asked the traveler as she raised the two dismembered heads for the herder to see. "You'll have to speak to the Elder, lass. I'll fetch you the healer!" The man was obviously both sickened by the heads, but also curious enough to want to assist her. Some Vampires were said to be as strong as two good men. It was hard to think that a lone woman could kill two without fatal injury. Sephoria simply smiled warmly to the villager, and waved off his insistence for help. She was tired from the rigors of the road, but she needed no healing. ~~~~~~~ Seph passed through the threshold of Hallenrul's tavern a half an hour later. Her first sight was that of a centaur's rear end. That honestly wasn't something the woman expected to see, but she shrugged it off and headed to the bar. She needed a strong drink. "Dark times when a woman is attacked by shades and beasts upon the road. Is the village safe? Were there casualties?" The barkeep eyed the blood on her armor, the Mapheri emblem stamped upon her breast plate, and the two swords hanging at her hips. Luckily she had at least left the dismembered heads outside. Velaeri Aldacer Stormwall
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Post by Aldacer on Feb 4, 2017 16:18:25 GMT
As he woke, he was requested when he was able to meet with Claygen. The details were left off, but the town had likely had little formality so it didn't terribly bother Aldacer. Refreshing, really, when dealing with humans. All the tediousness of a royal court of even petty lords' halls was pleasantly absent. Given though, that he was still an outsider, he wisely decided to stow armor and overt battle gear. A simple tunic and breeches, stout leather belt holding his rune-marked sword tied in to scabbard with a bit of leather cording, and the age-worn helm that fit more like a crown were all he wore besides sturdy boots of well worn and cared for brown leather. Even absent armor, the dwarf still had a gait that spoke of years in the saddle and longer years yet under the weight of plate and mail. Whereas elven warriors had a lithe and light gait in stories, and humans solid and steady, his grace was that of dwarven-kind. A slow, implacable pace that revealed neither hesitation or hurry. It was the walk of a man with no worry, but many thoughts upon his mind. Still, eyes set in weathered face scanned across room as he was ushered in, and when they set upon Claygen his head bowed respectfully, but noticeably less than servile. A nod of equals, with a touch more on Aldacers part to perhaps indicate reverence for age and station. "I came soon as I was awake... Apologies for the late rise, I begin to feel some of my age these days, and yesterday was not an easy feat to even one such as me, when not prepared and rested. Is my offer the reasons for meeting? Meant no offense by it, merely wish to see a place of peace preserved..."Velaeri | Stormwall
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