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Post by ciaran on Jun 22, 2010 21:48:30 GMT -5
(( Anyone is welcome to step up and post in this thread! I'd like to get to know some characters and introduce mine as well. )) Plip.Plop.Pit.Pat. Everything had a song or some other musical beginning in it if you were keen enough. The glistening array of flora in the myriad of verdant splashes and shift of earthen hues, as the afternoon shower dissipated into a soft mist, seemed to cast a brightening beauty on nature's simplistic surroundings. By all that is good! How long had she been sitting here to have such thoughts of un-provoked insight! Wait, there was an insinuator, the rain...blast it. From the cover of some ancient oak did she stretch and lean her figure back into working submission. Slender leather fingers waggled and twiddled, the last step to readyness and with a flighty whistle to some distant creature did this hooded and cloaked figure make her way onward. Greeted by the jaunty hoofbeats of a stirling grey mare who was slight of build and offered a snort of greeting. There was a light saddle over the slim, graceful back that was made for quick travel, no reigns or anything of the kind were used. Nimble as a fox did the long legged figurine settle herself neatly, her words soft and precise towards the flickered ear of her equine companion. There was no road to follow, often times it was the way of her wanderings to simply move on in any sort of land without so much as a thought for which direction she was headed. Though fortune seemed to smile down upon her or misfortune, however one looked at, did she find herself trotting toward Bree. Glancing back, she hadn't noticed she'd come through the Old Forest on the borders of Buckland and past the Southern Bree-Fields. Scolding herself for not paying attention, did she urge the nickering mare onward towards the surprisingly noisy town, at least it appeared so to her ears. Entering past the gate, where a very grumpy looking man eyed her cowled person curiously, did the sun sink low. Milky twilight sent stars and a ribbon of moonlight to guide her towards a hopefully peaceful nights rest.
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Post by Tallaith on Jun 23, 2010 10:27:43 GMT -5
((You might meet a few of my ladies, depending on where this ends up! Posting asap.))
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Post by rathiol on Jun 23, 2010 14:08:51 GMT -5
Just inside the gates of Bree, Rathiol spoke with a shrouded figure, cloaked in browns and grays that stood just as tall as he. They spoke in a hushed tone, but the other elf pointed just as the huntress road into town and right at her. The blonde-haired elf nodded and drew up his hood and followed behind the horse, snaking between people to keep his target in sight. An elegantly crafted bow was slung across his back, as well as a slender quiver with a few self-fletched arrows. One particular man yelled his direction, hawking his wares that consisted of poorly crafted, cheap jewelry. Rathiol simply glanced over to him and when he looked back, his quarry was out of sight. Grumbling to himself, he kept following in the direction she was going, looking for any trail that she or her horse may have left.
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Post by fellrod on Jun 23, 2010 16:25:19 GMT -5
The odors combined and intertwined one with another to produce a whole that was less attractive than many of the components that created it. Roasting meats were probably the most pleasant. Least appealing were the sour odors of bodies, cloths and armor that had gone far too long without the benefit of soap and water. Between were hundreds of other smells, primary among them the scent of beer, some fresh, some sour and no doubt emanating from the several puddles that dotted the floor. At least Fellrod hoped that was the nature of the puddles.
But he didn’t come here to guess at the various scents, that was just what had for the moment come to the fore of his attention. He didn’t like the Prancing Pony, but it was his favorite place in Bree. The beer was so-so, though it seemed better this day than he remembered it. He took another sip and again scanned the room from the corner table he had selected.
Bree was the major crossroads west of the mountains and it seemed he couldn’t avoid the place, even if he wished to. But today he had chosen to be here. He had taken a room at the Prancing Pony, though he only planned to use it as a place to store his traveling gear. And he had taken up this seat in the common room because he wanted news, and this was the easiest place to gather it, though it took sifting like looking for nuggets in a streambed. For every interesting bit of news there were four drunken arguments, several unseemly propositions, which were more entertaining than the arguments, and unknown quantities of braggadocio. His quick elven ears could sort out all of the conversations in the common room if he focused, and so he sat sipping his beer quietly and listening for he knew not exactly what.
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Post by ciaran on Jun 23, 2010 22:24:27 GMT -5
Bree slapped her hard across the face assaulting ears, eyes, and nose all at one ascending, ill-opportune time. Jaw tightened into a resolve of focus and reigned in her anxiety as folk brushed against both the mare and herself as she veered through the dwindling crowd as the night fell. With a few quick turns did she halt before a building with sign a-swing, ' The Prancing Pony '. Great. Eyes rolled as she glided down from her perch and clucked her tongue, guiding the very calm, collected horse to the stable yard.
" Eala, do try not to make trouble. " Voice was soothing in it's gesture, even tender as she spoke.
With a swirl of cloak did she make her way back to the entrance of the Inn. Shoving the heavy wooden door aside with a silent curse, did she grit her teeth as the rioting assailants of headache inducing senses attacked.
" A room for one..." Quietly did she speak, not wishing to draw any sort of unwarranted attention, one never knows what sort of creeps a woman is to encounter in such a place or such was her experience.
A tagged key was slid her way, Innkeeper Butterbur giving a very quizzical sort of look which soon took flight as the silver shined on the counter for room and stall. Turning away as he gave his thanks, did she plop hersef at a table in a far corner, which was perfect for her to lean back and observe the crazy, wonderful, grotesque, beautiful, evil, pure, displays of humanity. Gloved hands drifed upward, debating whether to tug back her hood. Yes? No! No? Yes! Sighing did she remove the confounded piece of spelled cloak and hands dropped to her lap as if lead. A cascade of onyx hair, softly wavy, spilled about her shoulders and down to mid back, those turbulant oceanic orbs drifted over the crowd as if waiting for a shout, eloquently tapered ears alert for a jest. Finding none did she lean back into the shadow provided by a conveniant awning. A bouncy breasted woman came her way, tray in hand and hips a-swaying like that damnable sign.
" Wha'cha be wantin' t' drink, Miss? " There was silence for a moment, a bit of a backward stepping tension from the wench before Ciaran's voice tumbled out silkily.
"Rose hip tea, if you please. "
A quick thankful nod of her head and a wary smile and the lass was away; practically bolting. Watching her walk away, did her eloquent hand stray to the hilt of her resting blade at left hip. If there was anyone here after her, it would come as a shock. Those who had intention to harm this quiet unassuming she-elf had already been dealt with personally. The grip lessened as her tea arrived, a silver piece was set on warped wooden table in payment which was taken up by the nervous maid. Sighing, did she take up her cup and try to give her tea an explorative sip but was disrupted by the nudging bump at a pouch on her right hip. A fuzzy, black masked face peered upward at her and the ferret then scrambled and coiled about her neck, stretching it's lanky body over her shoulders. It was then that these two watched the bustle of the tavern, the sleek weasel and bright eyed elf, hearing every rustled conversation and boisterous boast. Sipping at her brew, which was both calming in heat and soothing in flavor did she grab a bit of jerky from a various pouch and hand it up to her slinky friend.
" The night is young, Siohb. "
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Post by Tallaith on Jun 24, 2010 18:56:20 GMT -5
Barliman narrowed his eyes at the lass, but the expression on his round and amicable face was not threatening, nor judgemental. Valisilwyn immediately liked him for this. She leaned up on her tiptoes a few more inches and held the gold coin, pinched between her forefinger and thumb, almost beneath the Man's nose. "Room." Butterbur laughed and shook his head, pushing the elf-maiden's hand aside gently. His eyes paused momentarily on the silver pin on the shoulder of her plain tunic and his smile grew like an unfolding leaf after a good rain. "Ah, lass, that's too much money for tha likes o' one o' my rooms. An' looks like yer one o' tha Lady Cay's friends, aye?" Vali faltered slightly, the coin falling a half inch as she paused to mull over his statement a few words at a time. Finally, the torch lit behind her eyes and she grinned. She offered him a cheery nod. "Well then!" Barliman presented her with a slightly bent iron key. "We keep a few rooms fer folks such as her, an' her companions. Have quite a few regular travelers through these parts o' late. Good fer business, but bad fer tha business o' peacable folks." He shrugged, then realized from the thoroughly confused and quite blank expression of this little elven lass that he was most likely speaking to a dullard. So he offered her another jocular smile. "Supper's always hot in tha kitchen, just ask tha cook an' he'll find ya somethin' nice when yer hungry. Stay long as ya like, though ya may hafta share a room wit' more o' her friends if they pass through." Valisilwyn met his smile with a cautious wrinkling of her nose. She caught that she had a room, and something about food... And assumed by his actions that she could put the coin back in her pocket. She slipped the key into the small purse at her belt and turned away without another word to scrape her wary eyes over the common room. She wasn't fond of people as a whole, and was even less partial to groups of them. Especially in a place like this tavern, which was short on windows and doors for a quick departure and plentiful when it came to improvised weapons. Vali almost instantly measured the placement of the few patrons scattered around the room, most of them gathered near the bright twin hearths, but a few tucked into nooks of shadow behind secretive pitchers and low-burning candles. Sighing, Vali edged to the wall, almost like a mouse skirting the wainscotting to avoid detection, and moved to a table in the farthest rear corner of the common room. She wanted to wait and keep an eye open for her follower, her friend, Thelahir. The lass was always thrilled to see him and even though she was positive he'd immediately discover where her room was, she needed to take a few moments regardless to decide if she wanted to stay here among so many strangers. Barliman spoke beneath his breath to one of the serving girls and nodded to the odd elf-lass in the back corner. In a few minutes, a plate of stew and a mug of small beer was laid before Vali. She set the gold coin on the scarred and greasy table next to her plate with an arched brow but the girl waved it away as well with a laugh. Confused, Vali silently watched the servant go back to her work, then tucked herself farther back into the warm cloak of shadow to have her supper. The stew was quick work; she wolfed it down, barely bothering with a spoon and shoveling what she could into her mouth with one hand, clutching her mug to gulp down ale after each swallow. After she used her fingers to scoop the very last of the broth up and licked them dry, she shoved the bowl away with a sated grin. Bree-landers were proving themselves to be satisfactory cooks though they barely compared to the hobbits near her own home. Her thoughts turned to her little house in Undervale, but she quickly pushed this aside. She had a hard task ahead of her now and there was no way to accomplish it in such a peaceful scrap of land. Vali at least knew that much of the workings of the world. Though in her naivette, she didn't know that in a busy tavern after the setting of the sun, it wasn't wise for a lone lass to leave a gold coin sitting out on her table to wink at any passer-by.
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Post by rathiol on Jun 25, 2010 9:37:02 GMT -5
Entering that tavern that he knew would intensely test his patience, Rathiol slipped through the front door with his brown hooded cloak pulled up tight and low in front of his face. For those that didn't think he looked like a portion of the wall moving along with slow, careful strides, the drab coloring appeared uneventful and purposefully dull. The corners of the inn were taken. Good, that is where he would begin his search. By attempting to stay out of the way, he knew his would catch his prey in due time. He looked to the corner nearest him and the entrance as spotted a man whose eyes were shifting about casually in between drinks from his ale.
He moved on, nudging shoulders with patrons and drunkards alike, though none gave him even a second look. In the far corner, he saw an elf that looked familiar at first glance and he studied her for a moment before a faint smile etched past his lips. It was the simple elf whose bow string had broke in Ost Guruth. He would speak with her again, but not before he found who he sought.
One final corner to check. Again it was an elf with flowing black hair. Utterly out of place. This had to be her. He slipped past people on nimble feet, never cause a single drop of beer to drop onto the floor from those whom he came in contact with. He pulled his hood back before coming right up on her. He studied her carefully, looking her up and down before speaking.
"Ciaran of Rivendell?"
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Post by ciaran on Jun 26, 2010 1:36:05 GMT -5
It was inevitable, for ferrets can't help themselves when it comes down to something shiny and glistening. Siohb was quiet as he crept down his mistress' arm and made to look as if he was slinking back into the pouch but saw her distracted and took his chance to plop onto the kibblet, stale ale encrusted floor. Maneuvering about large boots and even the occasional bare hairy foot did those claws catch into the leg of the hungrily eating Valisilwyn's table and clambered atop with beady eyes blinking at the winking gold piece. Mouth clamped around the coin, with only a second's glance to the owner before the little vermin was off and scampering about for a place to hide it.
This disappearing act of her weasel-rat was not noticed as the raven haired Elf kept her cool gaze on the silent man in the far corner before there was a realization that there was a movement in the shadows but by then it was too late. There was then an unfamiliar man in her personal space with a name falling from his lips, her name to be exact. Must there always be trouble? Raising her tea cup to full lips did Ciaran polish off the last sip with a slow, deliberate move to draw out the moment and silence more so to irritate the stranger.
" Depends on whose asking. " That tone was light and crisp, as if she were on the edge of some joke that only she knew about.
Leaning forward to thrust her face close to his, would the tumultuous beryl orbs peer mercilessly into his own without so much as a batting eyelash, mouth was set in a line that waylaid her voice. It was then as her hand flew upward, seeking to give Siohb a pat that she realized he was gone.
" Blast it, I lost my weasel, you wouldn't mind filling in, would you? " She quipped without so much as an inclination.
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Post by brendur on Jun 26, 2010 8:18:34 GMT -5
“Still don’t see why you brought your sister to the game, she’s not even playing.”
Syfe did not lift her head from the table when she was mentioned, keeping her ear pressed to the once cool wood, now warm from her close contact with it. Her brother Brendur, dealt the cards again in swift practiced fashion, while addressing the farmer Jargis, the one who spoke.
“She likes to sit in now and again, sides she ain’t doin ye no harm is she?”
Jargis frowned picking his cards up and holding them close to his chest, all the while looking at Syfe as if she was something he had peeled off his shoe.
“She isn’t doing me any good either, ever since she’s come to the table I’ve been doing horrible.”
Boreland, a hunter from Archet who was easy to get along with, but hard to deceive, chuckled and tossed in his ante.
“Jargis, you’ve been doing horrible for the five years that I’ve known you, leave the poor girl be and play some cards. Or you could actually go back to that crack in the ground you call a farm and, horror of horrors, do some actual work?”
This brought a round of raucous laughter from the players at the table, they all pitched in their ante, and began calling for their cards. As Brendur dealt he looked out among those now gathering in the inn, noticing the familiar silver flash of Lond Trenari pins. At least if things got weird tonight he’d be in good company. He dealt in four of his cards, nearly all of his hand, rising a few eyebrows at the table. Such a move was a sign of desperation in the game, a sign that you had nothing.
“No pretty ladies big brother?” Syfe had finally spoke up in her cracked voice, even though her blindfolded face was turned away from him. “S’not goin to work fer ye iffin ye don’t treat em right.”
Brendur kept his face impassive, even though she’d practically confirmed what everyone at the table was thinking, Brendur’s hand was worth squat. “S’not exactly the time to bring up my love life little sister.”
Syfe giggled turning her head over on the table to face him and grinning. “Iffin I had jam, I wouldn’t open my mouth so wide…n’bugs wouldn’t fly out.”
Chuckling softly, Brendur drew four cards anew. “I’ll get ye some after the game’s done with little Raven. One last hand aye?” Brendur could feel the hunger from the other players growing as he threw a hundred silver into the pot as casual as picking a flower. Damn it he loved this game.
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Post by fellrod on Jun 26, 2010 22:07:53 GMT -5
Fellrod sipped his ale trying to listen to several conversations at once, none particularly interesting. A group of five hobbits came in chattering among themselves about rain and its effect of the quality of this year’s pipeweed crop. Three dwarves sipped beer and murmured among themselves about some lost treasure they either were seeking, were thinking of beginning to seek, or wished they could locate, he could not tell which.
At a nearby table Fellrod was interested to note a cloak pin like to the one he had received from Ceallian. It was attached to a man playing cards, and when he spoke Fellrod associated a name, Brendur, though this was the first time he had seen a face to attach to it.
As he was looking, Brendur’s gaze drifted his way and they locked eyes for just a moment. The thought of going over to introduce himself left the elf’s mind. Brendur was busy with his game of chance. There would likely be time later, or another day.
This thought was driven out by the arrival of another elf. This dark haired maiden had made her way to another of the corner tables and was speaking with one of the serving girls. There were not that many elves in Bree, and this in itself made her stand out somewhat, but she looked nervous. And after the serving girl left he watched as a rodent of some sort poked it’s head from a pouch at her side and then make its way to her shoulder. He had never understood the keeping of animals that had no utility, and rodents surely fit this category.
A brief fight caught his attention. A farmer accusing a merchant of selling bad seed, the merchant countering that seed could not germinate on rock. A couple of blows were exchanged before the two were pulled apart and departed through different doors.
Another elf caught his eye chatting with Butterbur, the inn keeper. Or perhaps it was the gold coin she was flashing in front of his face that caught his eye. At any rate, the next thing that caught his eye was another of Ceallian’s cloak pins.
She moved to the last unused corner table and was soon greeted by the same serving girl that had taken the order of the rodent keeper. The serving girl brought her food that he assumed she must have ordered while speaking to old Butterbur. However, he was somewhat amazed by the way she attacked the meal, as though she hadn’t eaten in several years. He watched in mixed amusement and disgust as she shoveled the stew down, even eating with her hands much as the Dunlandings often did.
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Post by Tallaith on Jun 27, 2010 18:24:15 GMT -5
((Vali's reply coming soon but don't reserve the next post for it))
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Post by rathiol on Jun 28, 2010 12:22:55 GMT -5
Stood straight in front of the elven huntress' table, tearing his glance from the dark, contrasting beauty only when the..weasel...ferrety thing scampered off. He studied her for another moment before responding. "I'm afraid I'm unsure as to what you mean by 'filling in'. Do you want me to chase rodents in the inn? If so, I won't be doing that." He wasn't sure if she was trying to be funny or not, but this nearly humorless elf saw nothing to smile at. Especially with the rambunctious nature of the inn raping his senses. What little solace to be found was in the presence of one of his kin, however distant the relation.
"The Lady of the Wood spoke with your Lord and I am the one that was sent to accompany you. Whenever you are your--" He looked back over his shoulder as if half-expecting to find the scampering creature in the throng of Men, "--friend are ready to leave, I will be waiting." He bowed, take one final look at her, then turned to draw up the hood of his cloak up once again.
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Post by Tallaith on Jun 28, 2010 14:05:20 GMT -5
"MINE!"
Valisilwyn lunged to her feet, throwing her chair back into the wall with her momentum. She half-climbed over the table, snatching madly at the rat-thing that was stealing her coin. The animal was swift as the dying glint of a dust-mote caught in the updraft of a candle; she saw the flash of gold and shadowy fur and almost immediately lost it again in the forest of table and chair legs, mottled with rough cliffy boots and heavy outcrops of dense skirts.
Roaring in rage, the Elf scrambled right over the top of the table on her hands and knees, knocking the bowl and cup aside with a clatter. She proceded to vault off the other side and face-first into the stone floor. Vali seemed oblivious to the cries from the patrons around her as she staggered to her feet, her eyes momentarily crossing and going hazy, before she began scrambling blindly through the inn after the thief.
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Post by fellrod on Jun 29, 2010 11:29:41 GMT -5
“MINE!”
With a start Fellrod’s eyes darted back to the table in the corner where sat the elf maiden who carried one of Ceallian’s cloak pins. A flash of fur and a glint of gold darted from the table and scurried across the floor and behind it the maiden scrambled. A maiden who Fellrod thought he could put a name to, Valisilwyn, or so he guessed from the one word he had heard her utter, though that was as much as he was used to hearing from Ceallian’s odd friend.
Eyes all turned to the corner and patrons began to jump out of the maiden’s way, those who were quick enough, others were being pushed and jostled as she chased the furry streak. Fellrod glanced to the dark haired elf on the other side of the room and noticed that another hooded figure had joined her and that her rodent was no longer perched on her shoulder.
Glancing down Fellrod realized he was now standing and his sword unsheathed in his hand. Too many thousands of days and nights he had watched on the marches of first Imladris and then Lothlorien; days and nights when he had honed his reflexes to respond to the unexpected with sword in hand. Quickly he lowered the blade, but he remained standing and watched Valisilwyn and tried to judge the responses of those she was pushing past in her chase.
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Post by ciaran on Jun 29, 2010 14:17:10 GMT -5
From the depths of her soul, was an odd dismissive sigh heaved upward as her attention was claimed by the kicked up laughter from a group of men playing some form of card game. Those cerulean orbs flickered over the object of their jesting. He was a wiry tanned man, there was a look on his face that seemed schooled but there was perhaps a trace of softness and a smile forming as he turned to a...wait...what is he talking too? Blinking did she narrow her sights, trying to figure out what in the world it was until she finally narrowed it down to female and watching this exchange did she happen to chuckle inwardly. Aw, he was fond of weasels too! Standing gracefully, her right leg pressing the chair back to grant her adequate fighting room should it become neccessary. Gaze turned to the shadowy stranger in his corner, feeling a sort of nervous anxiety eat at her she watched him from the corner of her eye as she then turned to address the problem at hand.
" I leave in the morning. I hope you've brought a mount, or you'll have trouble keeping up. I'll question you further another time, for something doesn't fit. " There was no warmth in her voice, the winter's slide of ice as she seemed to direct some sort of animosity towards the Vanyar, disdain bordering on the edge of contempt.
Moving with a fluid feline air, did she edge around the table to eye Rathiol, taking stock of his form and simply finding him troublesome most likely not able to stand her for any amount of aloted time they'd supposedly end up having together. Great. Now to find her ferret. Thoughts were shattered as she heard that previously gorging woman cry in pure rage and horrified anguish. Ciaran could only watch in stunned fascination as she crawled over the table, through plate of food and-- oh ouch, slammed her face into the ground. Clucking her tongue which was then aided by a pitying shake of her ebon crowned head did those bright eyes slowly grazing over the crowd, taking note that Fellrod had risen. A-ha! A flash of gold and a slender little ermine body was caught mocking her.
Now, Siohb wasn't a dirty and dumb sort of vermin. There was a level of thief-like sophistication in that seemingly tiny brain of his. Positioning himself right underneath Brendur's chair, did he scamper up the man's leg, skipped from his lap to the table and pranced about. LO AND BEHOLD! A haven of shiny things and the gold was promptly placed in the ante pile. Fluffing out his chest, did he go about preening himself; please as punch.
The Noldor huntress watched this all, and forming on her lips was a smile that perhaps set a more pleasing disposition on her neat immortal features. " He's so clever. "
Swaying forward with all the manners of a flouncing vixen, but with not the playful attitude, did she rest her hand calmly on the table. Peering at all the tumbled mess of different men, resting over the traveling card shark and the strange Syfe at his side. Trying to summon forth that smile once more, did she feel an odd sensation cross over her face. Oh by all that is right, how long had it been since she'd actually tried to smile? These damnable muscles hurt her jaw.
" Gentlemen and uh, woman...my ferret. " She proclaimed oddly, as if he was some wonder to behold. He chirruped in answer, doing an excited little dance around the pile of coins.
It would be noted she was not well practiced in the socializing department. Standing still did she begin to feel oddly nervous under the undoubted stare of the numerous strangers. Lower lip was nibbled upon as she waited and that smile began to wane, her hand flew to the hilt of her blade to simply rest beneath the fall of her black cloak.
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