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Post by Blitz on Feb 8, 2008 15:34:55 GMT -5
The town of Warwick was as clean and orderly as any Chirando had seen. It was as though the town was run by the sharpest military brigade in the Empire. The sables were clean with fresh straw on the ground, the heavy wooden signs over door posts were cleanly painted and free of the shabby workmanship found in many other towns. It would have been pleasent if not for the cold stares that the half-elf recieved from every inhabitant in the town.
[MT]
I'm going to be out of town this weekend, so feel free to do what you want. Lord Steerforth will come along on Monday.
[/MT]
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Post by Marko on Feb 8, 2008 15:45:14 GMT -5
As Chirando aproached the new settlement which in his mind he hoped to be Warwick. The travel was long and he wished to lay down his burdens.
On the road to the settlement, Chirando mounted on the tired horse, sighted a cart full of hay, drawn by a old looking horse that had only the smallest thickness of flesh between the bones and skin. On top of the highly stacked hay a peasant lay. With both hands holding the harness to the horse, the peasant looked bored to death.
[Woops... didn't know Blitz was posting at the same time. The peasant scene is just for Chirando to get information that the town in front of him was indeed Warwick. Chirando can pass by the peasant and go directly to the gatehouse scene or use it in his post were he ask for information.]
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Post by Marko on Feb 9, 2008 9:28:44 GMT -5
[Lets wrap up this scene and then go on to the gate house scene]
The man, sitting high on top of the hay in the cart, made Chirando wait for some answers for a couple of moments.
"Ah, you 'ere talkin' to me, stranger?" - he finally said turning his head to inspect Chirando. He took his time watching and observing all the features on Chirando before comiting to more words.
"Yea that is ..." - peasants voice made it clear that he was bored and not in a hurry. Men of the country always take their time - "...that is the pious township of Warwick. Heavily guarded stronghold. One of many the Empire has 'round these parts, stranger." - he tried to impress. A quick look on the map could render such a statement true or false.
Chirando tried to add something but was quickly cut of by the peasant on top of the hay.
"They've just recently added more men in the guard. Ants I tell you. The guards in that city are as many as ants." - and after that exagerate statement the peasant fell silent. Seeing an opportunity to speak Chirando opoened his mouth, just to be silenced by the peasant.
"And you should see their armour. Thick as trunk of oak wood and light as a feather. Me and Bessy here, and she's not old" - he raised his voice to make his point - "...seen a mill stone droped on one such armour, it didn't have any scratches on its surface, I swear to the Highfather." - he paused again.
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Post by Marko on Feb 11, 2008 15:15:46 GMT -5
"Fine, stranger!" - the peasant on the hay replied from behind Chirando - "Just don't try nutting funny with those guards, ya'here!" - no in a more silence voice, still hearable by Chirando - "No, me and Bessy are doing just fine... No need for help, just go on, stranger..." - Chirando could not hear him anymore, the gallop of the horse, his and the beasts breathing covered all other sounds.
Before the gates, at a reasonable distance he stopped. Two chargers pounded up the cobblestone to place their lances in front of him, barring his progress. One said in a harsh, cold voice, "State your business, mage. Or leave directly."
"I am Chirando, i am not a mage yet, i come on behalf of the Wizard Elder, Balthazar, seeking Lord Steerforth, to be trained in the way of paladin. Is this the town of Warwick, that the Wizard elder, has sent me to?" - he asked the guards.
The guards kept their cold stare just as the half elf muttered the word wizard their eyes caught up fire.
"Pappers!" - barked the left one - "We 'aven't got all day 'ere. Move it!" - added the other.
Yes they were rude but no one in Warwick could give them harsh looks for bullying a mana weaver. Ever!
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Post by Blitz on Feb 11, 2008 15:29:13 GMT -5
One of the men took a casual look at the scroll that was given to Chirando, then turned his horse towards the gatehouse and made three quick military signals. Then the man turned and continued to glower at the mage, his hand gripping the lance with an almost lustful fervor. After several tense moments, another horse pounded from the gates. Chirando was surprised to see that the horse was heavily armored, but in a way to keep the steed's two pure white wings unfettered. The pegasus slowed and Chirando gazed up to see the rider.
The man was clad in crimson armor, with a long billowing cape. Unlike the other two knights, his breastplate was ornate with the intricate icon of an angelic form cupping the Imperial seal in its hands. He held a tower shield easily to his side, with his hand braced casually on the hilt of a greatsword. But it was the man's steely eyes that gave Chirando the biggest pause. Beneath the thick gray eyebrows were eyes so intense with distrust, Chirando thought for a moment that they burned through his mind and scarred his soul. He sneered under a thick mustache as the sun glinted off his cleanly shaved head. With a growl that could have been uttered from the wolf, the central figure's harsh, cold voice commanded, "What do you want halfbreed?"
Stunned at the fierce retort, Chirando managed, "Sir, I am looking for Lord Steerforth."
The man's eyes darken into a storm cloud of disgust, "Then you have achieved your goal, sir," the last word was said with such poison that Chirando couldn't have felt more if a viper had bit him. "Pray to the grace of the Highfather that it isn't the last thing you do."
[MT]
Dum dum daaaaa!
[/MT]
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Post by Marko on Feb 11, 2008 15:35:10 GMT -5
"Welcome back M'Lord!" - said one of the guards as both bowed.
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Post by Blitz on Feb 12, 2008 7:39:10 GMT -5
Steerforth snatched the parchment from Chirando's hand, never dismounting or losing the harsh glare that echoed in his eyes. He grimaced at the scroll before wadding it up and throwing it on the ground. "So, you think that having that insufferable toad, Balthazar, give you a recommendation to be schooled in the chivalric order will gain some line of lienency. I assure you sir, it will not. Warwick does not abide fools. And by fools, I mean those with the heratical notion that they can control the whims and abilities of the divine natures... Mages. You are as much of a blight to the landscape as anything that spawns from the depths of the pit. Spell casters cause more injustice and pain in the Empire as your elven people, and as such I would strike you down if not for the need of the Empire. If it is the art of conscience you wish to learn, I am honorbound to teach you. However you will sweat and struggle with it until you bleed out your heritage onto Nevendaar and plead for me to end your life with the swiftness of my blade.
"Sir Heap! Sir Murdstone! Take our young squire to the swine pens."
"The pig stys?" Chirando frowned. "You want me to muck out pig pens?"
Steerforth scowled down at him, "The first lesson you must learn is humility. You will clean Baron Corsio's pig stys until I am appeased that you have learned that lesson better than any before you."
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Post by Marko on Feb 12, 2008 9:09:45 GMT -5
"Move!" - shouted sir Heap - "This spear is quite sharp..." - he raised it towards the half-elf - "...or do you want to test my statement on your skin, elf !"
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Post by Marko on Feb 13, 2008 2:39:25 GMT -5
Sir Heap marched with Chirando across the field from the gates, which were getting smaler and tinyer in sight. Oh, but the smell. That one was reaching new hights in revloting .
In a clearing, doted with six trees, rising just slightly over the ground a wodden roof rendered black from the tar placed on it to prevent rooting. Surrounding it were large circle spaces with woven thick stick fences around them. Filled with a good number of pigs.
The dwelling, had a section dug into the ground, with knee high stone walls on the sides over which the roof sat rather precarious. A stone chimney coughed out black smoke, pushed and draged to all the sides of the sights by a shallow wind.
"Ain't it a beauty !" - said sir Heap smirking towards the half-elf.
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Post by Marko on Feb 13, 2008 15:24:54 GMT -5
"A moment here, and already he thinks he's the expert." - sir Heap began to laugh loudly. So much that the pighearder darted outside to see what was going on.
"Ah, master Glim. I have brought you an apprentice !" - sir Heap, still laughing, introduce the half-elf.
"Master?" - the pighearder asked rhetorically - "Is your helmet too tigh, warrior. Or did your brain decide it had enough of your stupidity and left for a better chicken skull."
"You dare talk to a guard like..." - but sir Heap was silenced quickly by the older pighearder.
"I'll speak however I like to my nephew. Guard or no guard. Who's this ?" - the Glim pointed with his head towards Chirando. Wanting to waste no more time
"He's here to work for you." - Sir Heap was a wierd fellow. From the gates to here he didn't errase his smirk, even when he was scorned by Glim.
"Courtesy of Lord Steerforth..." - the guard pushed Chirando with he's spear, almost like prisonguard.
"And what shall I do with him... ?" - Glim started to think his eyes still fixed on sir Heap. As Chirando was able to stop just a few steps away from the pighearder now he could observe Glim better.
"Elf brat here, wants Lord Steerforth to teach him some manners and how to behave. Some wizard sent him here..." - sir Heap paused - "Well he's your responsibility, I'm off..." - the guard turned not expecting any warm farewells.
"You!" - Glim stared at the young half-human - "What's your side of the story ?"
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Post by Marko on Feb 17, 2008 1:00:40 GMT -5
The rugged pighearder did answer at first. He had a long stare at one of the sheds near his dwelling.
"Tell you what" - he finally said - "leave your armour and other baggage near the door" - the elf-man complied.
"Pay attention, boy" - he moved closer to Chirando - "In there you will have three buckets. A large new one, smaller older one with leaks and a tiny one that is in a horrid state." - the hearder looked in Chirandos eyes to see if anything was writting down in the boys brain. Somewhat convinced he continued.
"I have 40 pigs." - you could foretell some pride but it was distant under the thick layer of no nonsense that made up some if not all of the pighearders fibers and bones. - "For them I need water, 80 large buckets ..."
"Do you understand boy?" - he again checked. Chirando blinked and shoock his head.
"Mmm..." - his old grun was the reply to Chirandos acknowledgement - "So with the middle bucket you need three for a pig and with the tiny one you need five for a pig."
"Yes?" - he asked but didn't wait for an answer - "Right, the spring is in a pond, over that hill. Even a brainless, blind folded slug can find it. Yes?" - he again asked rhetorically.
"I'll be in the pens, if you need help. Or some motivation." - he turned and started walking.
"Mmm..." - he stopped remebering something - "Do not attempt any magic. Lord Steerforth has his personal hounds. That know any magical discharge in the air. If you wish not to be whiped in the Square of Warwick I suggest you keep your magic book well hidden and out of your sight." - he started returning to the pens, telling himself but for the elf-man to hear.
"Or who knows maybe his kind likes to be whiped..."
[Pick a bucket and walk down to the pond. Describe from your point of view the surroundings and what is Chirandos impression of the pighearder.]
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Post by Marko on Feb 18, 2008 1:46:20 GMT -5
The bucket was extrealy heavy, the handel made of gragra dried leaves began to cut in the skin covering Chirandos hand. More so the ramp made out of wood began to crack and whistel under the strain. The ramp being the only point of acces to the trowel-like structure where the pig expected water.
Chirando didn't even get to pour the water when the ramp gave out, falling down and the water crashing all over him.
"Grabbed the shinny one have we, mmm?" - Glim resting his arm on a pen pole. Not actualy having a delight or anger on his face. More of the same bored, rugged expression he always had.
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Post by Marko on Feb 21, 2008 4:05:07 GMT -5
"Now, now!" - his rugged voiced boomed - "I'll have none of that heaten launguage around my homestead. It bring bad spirits from all around." - he moved closer.
"Get up!" - he sounded anxious - "There are boards and tools there on the porch. Fix this..." - he pointed to the broken ramp - "And then try again..."
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Post by Marko on Mar 1, 2008 2:56:30 GMT -5
"You sure know how to use a hammer, hafling..." - Glim joked watching Chirandos handiwork repairing the ramp. Although it was a joke, Glims ruff features seamed uncapable of producing a joyful expression.
"You know, it's good excercise. There are two more buckets to fix, if you want to fill the waterplaces for the pigs and get food tonight." - he turned to his own matters after he considered enough advices were given to Chirando.
Chirando enters the wooden structure where the two old broken buckets remain. To the half-humans suprise there he saw a wild visitor in there, laying on the hay covered floor. It's a wolf! He remarked to himself getting closer to it. But what a horrid state it was in. Chirando observed now a blood trail coming from a hole in the wooden wall going to the body of the broken animal. Its breathing was shallow and his wild eyes lost, as if all desire for life had been drained.
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Post by Marko on Mar 2, 2008 4:25:17 GMT -5
Chirando was able to fix the buckets and get the amount of water the pigherder needed for his pigs. Trained as a child to keep up with some physical work, alas it was not enough for this and coupled with the long trip, exhaused the young half-elf imensly. He was tired beyond anything he experienced in his life. Was this enough to brake the spirit of Chirando, make him reconsider running back to the elegant Elven Palace where he spent a part of his life in? Could his father accept him back?
Local foods were given to him in the evening in small quantities. A piece of smoked salted ham, sweet cheese from cows milk and onions. But only enough to feed a small boy.
His resting place for the night was a bundle of hay covered with an old gray cloth. Placed almost outside of the dwelling were the herder lived. Luckly it wasn't that cold that evening. Chirando couldn't know if this is how life was here or if Glim was purpousely making his life hard. Of course, you couldn't get nothing out of the ruff old pigherder.
Morning came quick for Chirando, as if just a moment ago he closed his eyes. The darkness was gone, but the pain was there. Every muscle acked and was sore. Even breakfast was the same as the dinner he had earlier.
The Sun didn't get over the horrizon very much and dawn was only a moment old. Glim proclaimed that there was enough light and off you went to work. Chirando followed the herder. To his dismay he went to the barn were the wolf of the other day lay. Should he allow the herder to enter and find the wolf?
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