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Post by Anton Severin on Jan 11, 2017 10:11:25 GMT
Perona was a uniquely busy city, to say the least. Merchants, trade, power, aristocrats, manipulations, lies, stories, mercenaries, a litle of everything, really. And Anton enjoyed it. Frankly, it reminded of his home--albeit with slightly fewer attempts on his life. Still, while he enoyed the indulgences of the city, he had to stay in form with rgorus physical training. And not jsut the fun kind.
So, today, he'd earn his work-out. He'd run. Around the city, he'd been running, bouncing around the alleys like an idiot. It was a bit frantic, but hey, better than meditating under a waterfall. He smirked as he leapt across the alley, running from one walkway to another, until a smell caught his attention. What was that that scent? It was....intoxicating.
Soon, the embroidering monk found his prey. A Fish shack. But alas, his purse had been left in another jacket. How would our brave hero fix this travesty? Oh, right. The generosity of the public. He smirked as he sat down acros the fish shack, pulling a few items out of of his pants pocket. Keys, a signet ring, one of those odd foldign caps that were now in fashion, a ball of twine, a hook. He set the cap upside down, and began juggling the keyring and a few other things, moving each one up and down with one hand while he whistled cheerily, watching as a few folks stopped by. Wait for a large enough crowd, and he'd be sure to go with a real show-off routine.....
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 12, 2017 3:37:33 GMT
Anton SeverinYour average busker, Miri had learned, wore tawdry colors but took excellent care of their juggling gear. Dress in rags, perform with perfect hoops or shiny blades. This particular juggler, by contrast, wore embroidery but held and tossed only random objects. Down on his luck, perhaps. Like any sensible, wealthy resident of Perona, she kept two purses. One was muffled, slim, and hidden. The other was smaller, suitable for everyday incidentals. She unfastened the strings of the latter and fished out a coin, which she donated to the cause of the juggler's continued state of mortality. He wasn't bad looking, she noted. Not one of those dark elves with cheekbones that could cut glass, but still. It was probably his physicality: he moved without inhibition, as if motion was his natural state. And come to think of it, she'd seen a coat much like that on a running man as he bounded from rooftop to rooftop in the university. She folded her arms and stood and watched, defiant of the convention of moving on. It had been a long dull day, and the wiry juggler marked a high point. If she'd been more of a trickster... ... but she pushed those fancies aside. A princess, even one from a minor and distant land, had to show decorum.
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Post by Anton Severin on Jan 12, 2017 21:15:03 GMT
Mirielle MerlonAnton smirked and kept up the act. A few folks were sticking around, including a young woman who seemed to be watching a bit more intently. He wondered at that. She looked like she was from one of the universities, she didn't seem the type to be a merchant or trader. Then again, his focus was a bit brief as he added a dagger or two to his act, juggling absentmindedly. He smirked as a few more coins fell into his bag. Enough to make lunch, and then some. And who said forgetting your coinpurse was a horrible screw-up? Now, to find a finale for the bit....hmmm....perfect. He smirked as he threw everything twenty feet in the air, kicking up the hat and using it to catch the other items, smirking as he donned the hat, nodded his head, and then a coin appeared in his hand. A cheesy slight of hand trick, but worth it. He then made an exaggerated motion of blowing a kiss, and oepned his motuh to reveal the keys. He smirked giving a little bow, nodding to the room. "Thank you, folks! How about one last trick before I go?" Some of the folks seemed itnerested so he obliged, climbing up a lamp post, and tyign a sash at his waist around it. "In the Monasteries of the eastern realms, there are great towers without siarts or ladders. To attend lessons in such places, the monks must climb of their own power," he said with a smirk. He waved his arms a bit and leapt, swinging as the scarf curved him up, landing on an adjacnet porch. He grabbed two flowers from a small vase on the porch and then "flew" back, landing after a somesault next to the crowd. "Of course," he said as he handed the flwoers to the young lady who had been there the longest, "the vines sometimes climb more gracefully than the monks," he said with a smile. He winked. "Alright, I do beleive I've performed enough today. Have a good day, folks," he said with a wave.
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Post by Digu on Jan 13, 2017 5:56:41 GMT
Perona was a nice enough place to be most of the time. It was fairly lax and generally laid back in most cases. No one batted an eye at the unusual as the city was a trading port that welcomed scores of nations and dozens of species to its docks and market stalls. It was somewhat relieving to the centaur that no one stared at her as she passed, but at the same time she wasn't exactly comfortable. The city was in the southlands along the southern coast of the continent which meant it was a bit hot on an average day. Toss in the river delta the city sat on and the humidity in the air and Digu was somewhere between unhappy and miserable in the muggy heat. She'd packed up the majority of her armor and left it in the stables under lock and key where the caravan was staying for the next few days and opted to wear only the leather harness holding her sword and shield along with a linen tunic. Despite the cooler attire, it wasn't exactly a perfect fix for the heat. Logic told her to move out of the streets and alleys where, despite the shade, the heat hung in the air. She made her way to the docks where the sea breeze would, theoretically, help her cool off. Thankfully, her sense of smell was a bit better than most and it was a simple matter to follow the scent of salt and fish on the air. In what felt like hours, but was more akin to perhaps a half hour, her hooves carried her from cobblestone to wood and the sight of water and ships bobbing alongside the docks. As the breeze hit her face and sweat-damp flanks she couldn't help but give a sigh of contented relief. For once, logic had prevailed and she stood still for the moment, relishing the relief of the cool air. Anton Severin Mirielle Merlon
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 13, 2017 14:38:21 GMT
Anton Severin @digu "Well hold on a moment," Miri said with a grin, snagging his embroidered cuff. She sniffed the two flowers. Admittedly, her eyebrows had risen sharply when he added knives to the mix, and again at his climbing display. Whoever he was, this man wasn't a busker - and clearly lived free of the constraints of conventional propriety. Even of conventional dignity, if he could shrug and smile and juggle for money on a whim. She glanced around at the dispersing crowd and let go of his cuff. She'd meant to put any number of her thoughts into words, but what came out was "I'm Mirielle." Auspicious. "You're not a busker, are you." Also lame, but she could yet regain her balance. Her eyes drifted from him awkwardly and wound up on a nearby...centaur?
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Post by Anton Severin on Jan 15, 2017 10:03:31 GMT
Mirielle Merlon DiguHe did enjoy getting grabbed by a random woman in broad daylight. He smirked as she sniffed the flowers and let go. "For you miss, certainly more than a minute is to be spared," he said with a slight chuckle. Okay, he was laying it on a little thick, but hey, if you weren't going to have a bit of fun, then why perform in the first place? "I'm Anton," he replied with a nod as she made a guess as to his line of work. "I'm not a busker by trade, but I did forget my purse today, so I figured a bit of work would allow me to pay for lunch," he said with a shrug. "My actual line of work is clothing, both design and sale," he said with a nod. He followed the woman's eyes for a brief moment, looking at a centaur. "Hmmm. Lot's of folks on the street today. Maybe we should all grab some fish, then?" He smirked a little. "After all, there's definitely enough coin in here to make a fine meal for three folks, I suppose," he said with a chuckle as he looked through the hat and counted the coins out quickly. "What do you say? The more, the merrier?" He raised an eyebrow.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 15, 2017 23:49:57 GMT
Anton Severin DiguMiri's eyebrows rose as she grinned and hoped she wasn't displaying too much incredulity. "What, just...walk up to her and ask her to join us for a meal? I'm not sure I've got your social audacity. Then again, you seem to be good at making friends." She glanced at the half-horse-half-woman not too far away. Was it normal to envy a centaur's back? That girl had definition. "Fish sounds perfect, though. I got studying last night and forgot to eat." She tucked her hair behind her ear and refocused on Anton. "I'm at the university, in case that wasn't blindingly obvious. And I happen to go through a lot of clothes." She pinched his cuff for a moment between thumb and forefinger. "I like you work." Want to take my measurements?
Probably should not say that.
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Post by Digu on Jan 17, 2017 1:27:50 GMT
Voices nearby caught her attention, mainly because neither sounded like locals and both had the general tone of the attempt to drag another into conversation. She opened her eyes from the relief of the breeze and glanced around, spotting a dark-skinned man and a young woman. As she looked over, she caught the girl looking at her mid-glance. Curious, she moved towards the pair and stopped short a few feet away. "Who what now?" she asked, an eyebrow raised as she realized that they'd been referring to her in some fashion for whatever reason. She hadn't picked up on the conversation, but she'd caught the tone which was far from malicious she felt. As she spoke, she realized she wasn't where she thought she was. A quick glance around confirmed that she was, indeed, not anywhere familiar, though she knew she stood at the docks, though what area of the docks escaped her. In her heat induced haze and desire for a cool breeze, she'd lost track of where she was going. "Neither of you would know where this is, would you?" Digu asked after a moment, still enjoying the feeling of the cool air on her skin and flanks. "I think I may be a bit... well, lost." Mirielle Merlon Anton Severin
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Post by Gale Aom on Jan 17, 2017 16:20:56 GMT
"Damn it all,"was all that Gale could say in regards of the little money he owned. He was both hungry and interested in getting something new for himself whether it be clothing or weapons. Armor was something that he found no regard in as he found it very uncomfortable to wear and made him a bit awkward whenever he fought with his blade; however, the only piece of armor he carried was a plate that protected his back and chest as those were areas he worried the most from his other body parts.
In the busy streets of Perona, he walked with a brown horse at his side that carried some spare clothes, money, cookware, and pouches of water. All of these things, except for the water, were all property that Gale had stolen a couple weeks ago. And on his person he carried a longsword, his one plate of armor, and some brownish clothing articles. And yes, these items were also stolen by the hands of Gale.
Speaking about stealing and robbing things, the mercenary was going to have some trouble if he was going to pull off a robbery. Gale was quite the inept when it comes to pickpocketing people or stealing things in discrete. He was the type of person that made a big scene about it (something he doesn't like to do) because he usually used force and weapons to get what he wanted. In rural towns or villages that didn't had that great of law enforces, it was a suitable method to execute. But in a place like this, it would be very hard to pull off.
Just need to find some quiet district or something.
He couldn't risk roaming out into the unknown without stocking up on essentials first. And if he had to cough up some coins that he earned from his mercenary profession, then so be it. Money always found some way to be in his pockets, and it also found some way out as well.
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Post by Anton Severin on Jan 18, 2017 11:25:31 GMT
Gale Aom Digu Mirielle MerlonAnton chuckled playfully. "In my experience, audacity is a good thing to use in this city. After all, it's the reason we're speaking today, and that's definitely worth it," he said with a smirk. "The University? Ah, the student's work is never done, or so my old rector would say. There's always soemthign to learn, to see, to...well, to experience," he said with yet another wink. He flipped a coin in the air as the woman grabed his cuff. "Then I suppose we can head to the shop after lunch, should you like to browse. I don't have any fittings schedule this evening, so I can likely--" In accordance with Murphy's law of timed flirting, a Centaur asked them for directions. "Oh? Hmmm, I believe we're at....sage street docks, near the net-making part of town," he said with a nod. It hoenstly took him a minute. Perona was a fairly alrge place, and frankly, he'd been running around so much he'd lost track. He was more absentminded than usual today. Ah well. He smirked as he looked to the two of them, then waved over to the booth beside him. "Good sir, three orders of wahtever seafood's being fried, it smells amazing!" He nodded to both of them. "Can't explore the jewel of the southern seas on an empty stomach. My treat, I insist!" He said with a laugh, setting about half of the coins he earned on the table. The gruff man at the shack counter chuckled. "Coming up, Fledi. Grab a seat before the tide takes you and your friends to another dock," He smirked and pocketed the coins, and began frying some mixture of diced crab and salmon. It smelled of oil and fish and fried bread.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 18, 2017 14:15:40 GMT
Anton Severin Digu Gale AomAs that smell hit Miri, her stomach snarled in the most undignified manner possible. It sounded like a sawmill ripping through oak. Street meat could be chancy here, seafood doubly so, but the boothman's food stock seemed fresh and he appeared to be cooking it thoroughly. The booth had a couple of small round tables, all bound up with pretensions of respectability. A fine patina of grease covered the tabletops, and the backs of the chairs where people gripped them to move them. Miri was no stranger to street food and all things associated therewith. Rather than sit at one of those tables, though, she opted for the more sanitary and centaur-inclusive option of just sitting on the rim of a nearby fountain. Perona sure loved its statuary and friezes, and this fixture was no exception: a battle scene in high relief, a cavalry charge striking a band of demons. She leaned back against some carved combat and laced her fingers over her midriff. "My thanks," she said. Her belt pouch, her secondary wallet, had more than enough local scrip to cover three cheap meals, but if he wanted to pay, so be it. It had been a long time since a man had bought her a meal out of a general sense of largesse and fun, rather than as part of some more formal meeting. She grinned at the centaur. "Yeah, stay a while and eat with us. Your pelt -- you're from the north, right? I'm from Ashdell myself."
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Post by Digu on Jan 18, 2017 21:14:19 GMT
"Sage street?" Digu repeated under her breath. She wasn't familiar with the area, but she vaguely remembered that sage street joined up with a few roads and districts she knew with some degree. It seemed getting back would be just as much of an adventure as it was to get here, though hopefully with less heat stroke. Her ears perked up at the sound of frying food and she caught the smell of cooking fish cakes. Her stomach growled in protest at the void within it and she realized that in her desperate meandering for a cool breeze, she'd not eaten at all today. "Er, not quite," the centaur responded, caught off guard by the girl's question. Most folks couldn't tell where centaurs were from and many outright didn't care. The fact that this one did said she was well traveled or interacted with centaurs enough to discern homelands. "I'm from Therien originally, to the Northeast, but I've not seen home in a few winters." She settled in next to the fountain with the others and took her own seat, carefully tucking her legs up underneath her lower body. A mild swish and her tail was snugged up along her side out of the way, a habit she'd developed from her time among the Therien lancers where wayward hooves and broken tails went hand in hand while on the march. "What brings the two of you here?" she asked, her earlier relief from the heat preventing her from seeing much in the way of anything that had happened earlier. Mirielle Merlon Anton Severin
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Post by Anton Severin on Jan 25, 2017 13:23:48 GMT
(Sorry for the delay, I was waiting for the other bloke.)
The elf smirked a little. "Ashdell? Can't say I've ever had the pleasure of travelling that way. I believe one of our weavers lived not too far from the Therien region. Tall fellow by the name of Aklen," he msed as he sat, watchign the two of them talk. The monk in him was happy to see nice people not tryign to kill him, or rob him, or some other lousy thing.
He considered that question. Why was he here again? Aside form the beautiful woman and the curious Cnetaur and the fish that smelled like it was worth every coin. "I suppose what brought me out this way was the need to stretch my legs," he said with a shrug. "I have to say, though, it's nice to have pleasant company around after a good bit of exercise," he said with a nod.
For a moment, his mind wnadered, going back to the monastery. A thing the old master always said, "Sometiems the msot important thing is finding fresh air and new people to help you leanr more."He looked at Mirielle thoughtfully. A student, and by every right, a very lovely young woman. But her demeanor, her whole method of talking, it was...well, it was rather odd, come to think of it, that a northerner would come all the way down here for schooling. She must have been someone with either quite a bit of coin, or a very important name. Or maybe both. Then again, maybe he was jstu beign paranoid.
Relax, the monk thought to himself. She isn't the type to be part of some scheme. And if she is, well....then no sense not enjoying the fun while it lasts. The decadent tailored monk nodded. "A lovely time to share a meal with new people, aye?" He then chuckled a bit. "Pleased to meet you, by the way. I'm Anton." He then winked to Miri.
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Post by Mirielle Merlon on Jan 26, 2017 2:01:21 GMT
Anton Severin Digu"Ashdell's fairly close to Therien, all things considered. Little way northwest. Much colder, though. When I go back, I'll have to bid farewell to light dresses like this. Up there, felt and fur are always in style." The vendor deposited three portions of indescribable food before them. As Miri pondered her answer to the centaur's question, she hid her smirk behind her fish-wrap until she could get her face deadpan again. Sometimes the reveal was boring, sometimes dangerous, and as often as possible she avoided it. But Anton had kept her on the back foot since they'd met entire minutes ago, and she felt the urge to return the favour. "As for what I'm doing here: school. It's family tradition for the children to go away to university. I pushed for Perona, and I'm sort of a disposable part of the line of succession, so I got what I asked for. Princess Mirielle of Ashdell. Delighted to meet you." She scarfed down fish-wrap with abandon.
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Post by Prince Ineirin on Jan 26, 2017 4:48:08 GMT
Perona was a harbor-city, situated on the Southern coast East of Tyre. As such, it made sense to make an alliance, or at least a trade agreement with them. At a bare minimum, it would be wise to get to know the lay of the land. So, a diplomatic entourage from Aerlion was dispatched, led by the Prince Ineirin, heir to the throne, and Knight of the Gull. A ship made its way into the harbor- large and magnificent, with full a display of the heraldry of Aerlion- a white gull against a blue sea and sky background below three gold stars. It was on banners hung from spars and masts above a hull painted blue and a figure-head in the shape of the Sea-King himself. A magnificent sight to be sure, and certainly one set apart from from the normal merchant and trading vessel. Standing along the edge of the deck was an escort of Aerlion soldiers in blue and silver mail draped beneath cloaks of sky-blue, faces hidden by helms of steel with gull-feathers rising from the top, making them seem taller than they really were. The ship slowed to a stop, rowers bringing the ship into an empty berth. A gap in the rail revealed where the gangway was prepared as sailors on board tossed ropes down to the dock-workers. As they tied it off, the gangway was dropped to the dock and Prince Ineirin himself and his honor guard in richly worked tunics and cloaks appeared before descending down to the docks, making their way through the thronging crowds. Ineirin paused suddenly and took a deep breath, smiling. "By the Sea-King, I don't know what that smell is, but it is magnificent after ship-food." he waved his honor-guard on. "Go on without me for a time. I need to find this food before reaching the palace." They looked at each other, but shrugged, and went ahead. Ineirin waited as they left, and draped the cloak more fully around himself, hiding his tunic and ducked into the streets, winding a circuitous route until he was fairly anonymous. He simply looked like a wealthy merchant. He wandered around, trying to track the source of the smell with his nose. It was harder than he had anticipated, the smell mingling in the heavy air with the smell of salt and fish and city-life. It made this specific smell difficult, but eventually, he managed, slipping his way past a small group consisting of a young woman, a Centuar, and a dark elf. They all seemed to be conversing and enjoying the food. He considered the vendor and turned to them. "I beg your pardon for interrupting, but pray tell me, is this food as magnificent as it smells? Or is my nose tricking me after too long on sea rations?" Mirielle Merlon Anton Severin Digu
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