|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 21, 2015 2:31:42 GMT -6
The evening air around Barabas is mostly still as he walks through a path leading around the main tower toward the servant's quarters. None of the court denizens were out and about at this hour, at least not nearby, and even the occasional soft breeze carried neither hum nor haw from along its path. Although it had never been in his nature to be unguarded around others, it was by far in these lonesome moments that Barabas was at his most tense and insecure. The movements, patterns and expressions of others had always been the focal point of his duties - and he exceled at them, but without a task to be done in his solitude he felt lost.
It was in this fit of restless curiousity that Barabas saw - thought he saw, a blur from the trees above. With nothing else to indicate there had been something there, Barabas could only assume that his mind was playing tricks on him. So he carries on, filled with relief once he reaches the thatch roofed stone hut, built along the castle's North-facing wall to house its servant staff.
Barabas extends a hand to knock, but decides it in his place to simply head in. His eyes quickly adjust to the dim lighting inside, provided by a hearthfire, several candles throughout the open room and a single oil lantern by the door. His unnanounced entrance illicits little more than a bored glance from the few of the habitants inside, although upon identifying him the Matron signals for Barabas to come forward.
He tries to examine the people inside the room as summarily as he can, not wishing to dawdle and indicate to the Matron that he wasn't taking these social situations seriously.
A single butler was doing dishes in the room behind her, his golden brown wings betraying that he was a hawk laguz, and his out of tune humming indicating no musical talent whatsoever. Barabas sees little use in making out a disposition using the back of the man's head.
A pair of other butlers, both seemingly Beorc or at least branded, are reclined in the corner and playing some card game. They seem absorbed in their competition, all furrowed brows and intense determination. Barabas did not see fit to examine them further.
He eyes a pair of maids as he walks past them. One is quite clearly a branded and she greets the other, a cat laguz, with some needy, inane chatter. Perhaps too generously, the other maid does seem to be giving her companion the time of day, smiling and nodding while they converse.
"Where have you been...?" Barabas hears the branded maid say. He turns away as he loses interest in the conversation, but something in the back of his head tells him to look again. Which he would have, hadn't an authotitative presence cleared her throat immediately in front of him.
"Do watch your step, Barabas." The Matron teases, coolly and tactfully preventing the accident Barabas had been about to perpetuate. "Carry yourself at all times as if you bore a stack of expensive china plates as well, and you will find distractions few and far between."
The maids giggle from behind, but Barabas simply bows humbly before the Matron. "My apologies, lady." He says, returning to his full height. "I shall do as you say in the future, until such a time as it isn't necessary."
"I shall expect no less from you hereforward." The Matron replies sternly. She calls the hawk butler from his duties in the back room, rouses the Beorc men from their game and beckons the maids to meet them. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to Barabas Levitt. He will be replacing Tomassi, who is lost to us now, and serving in his stead. Barabas served a duke of lions, and now he is here. May you all introduce yourselves so that you might work together as if he had been with us all along."
Although at least two of them were surely much older than the Matron, there was a clear sense of structure in the room, and the Matron clearly stood at the top of it. Taking the lead dutifully, the hawk acts first at her behest.
"Tha' name's Ronald MacFarplane!" He introduces himself, so vigorously and boisterously that Barabas couldn't understand how such a butler's head remained attached to his shoulders. "Och, but e'ryone just calls me 'Bonnie Ronnie'! How ye' do'n, lad?"
'Bonnie Ronnie' reaches for a handshake, but Barabas turns him down with a curt bow, rather prefering the use of his right arm.
One of the Beorc men introduces himself next, and standing next to each other it's quite apparent that they're brothers.
"I am Anders Goodchild." The first brother greets, right arm folded across his chest. "I mostly mind the laundry, and so my duties have yet to begin tonight."
"I am Oslo Goodchild." The second brother says as he steps forward, left arm over his chest. "I mostly take after the sorting of our lords' quarters, and so my duties are already done for the night."
The branded maid hesitantly steps forward, taking particular care in performing a low curtsy as she introduces herself. "M-My name is, W-Willimina Walden..." The plain girl manages to stammer out, treating eye contact with Barabas as a distant goal rather than an immediate possibility. "...Sorry if I get in your way..."
That cat girl comes foreward last, accentuating her step with a slight bounce and grinning at Barabas just enough to show yet hide her fangs at once. Her shoulder length brown hair bobs slightly as she does so, and her piercing green eyes meet with Barabas'.
"My name is Miata." She says with cheer in her tone. "...Just Miata. You served in Lowen before too, huh? Wow, I bet we were practically like neighbours!"
"So it is? Then I look forward to working with you... Miata..."
A lump forms in Barabas' throat and he suspects that his reaction seemed unreceptive at best, but he shifts back to a neutral expression immediately. He looks back at the Matron, who seems pleased with the night's progress. By this point, the old crow record keeper had finally managed to hobble his way inside, and he catches Barabas slightlt off guard when he clasps his shoulders with both hands.
"I was a slave once too, you know." The old man tells Barabas unprovoked, which he understands as a reference to his fabricated background. The old man looks up at Barabas and smiles at him genuinely, shaking and grasping somewhat for each breath. He pauses to think for just a moment. "Back when pirates still roamed our waters with impunity! You... remind me of myself, when I was young. Except without my fine plumage, of course! Now please, don't act so sullen in equal company. Mingle a little with your new friends."
The crow pulls back and nods at Barabas, giving another sincere smile, which Barabas finds no trouble in returning. Turning around, he sees Miata still watching him. She smiles, but this one Barabas can't place. Miata might be a threat, Barabas decides. Still, it would be foolish to try to do anything about it at this stage. After following the record keeper's advice and mingling a while, Barabas concludes a game with Anders and Oslo just as the former is about to leave to attend his duties, and Barabas heads straight to bed.
(And so, I am fully caught up.)
|
|
|
|
Post by Golurkcanfly on Aug 22, 2015 16:07:09 GMT -6
"Do you know where the Keeper is?" Cairbre asked one of the passerby Herons as he walked around the village with the sleepy kitty in his arms.
After no answer, he asked a few others before one pointed to her house in frustration after failed attempts to describe it. It took only a short while before Cairbre reached her house, and once he reached the entrance, he knocked on empty doorframe three times.
|
|
|
|
Post by Neo on Aug 22, 2015 18:20:02 GMT -6
A sliver of white raced through the shadows of the dark forest. It darted around the trees and over stumps, little more than a bright flash of light speeding by. The flash of light slowed as it neared a particularly large forest clearing, gradually taking a more physical form, revealing an unnaturally large, beautiful white wolf. The wolf's fur was a radiant, snowy white, freckled with spots of grayish silver, and it had a patch of black fur covering most of its right hind leg. The wolf was a great, majestic beast, many times larger than a normal wolf, and its golden eyes glittered with a sharp intellect that belied the beast's true nature.
Her head low to the ground, Farah stalked through the forest like she owned it. Which she did. As the large, opulent forest manor came into view, the great wolf shifted, her body beginning to change, and in a single fluid motion, a beautiful woman seemingly in her late twenties took the wolf's place, striding towards the massive mansion with the confident gait of a Queen.
Reaching the front doors, Farah stopped, fingering the key ring in her pocket. I should check if the old Crow is still up... I did come back a little late tonight. Hmm. If no one answers, I'll head around back and see if he's in the Servant's Quarters.
Instead of going into the main house, she walked around to the smaller building next to it and knocked loudly three times.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 23, 2015 2:15:42 GMT -6
Not a moment after Farrah finished her first knock, the door to the record keeper's hall is opened and the old crow stands aside with the door's motion to let her in.
"It is good to see you have returned." The old crow sputters. "I had begun to worry, but then I dozed off."
As Farrah walks in and the record keeper shut the door, he straightens his stance and briskly walks over to his seat. He cough slightly, and continues to speak casually.
"I really did. I'm sure you wish to know about your new staff member, but if I may ask, what came of the summit?"
|
|
|
|
Post by HHDeception on Aug 24, 2015 3:10:21 GMT -6
Rocangus picks lightly at the bandages wrapping his arms as he listens to the man's request. He noticed that his customer shifted his weight six times...which usually indicates he should play hard with the pricing
"Aye, sounds like yer lookin' for a stimulant. I got'cher a potion that does just what you said, keep you sharp as a talon all day and night. I use it myself at times. Not a precise dose, and no side effects, but I wouldn't use it every day. It stops working it you take it for a week straight, and when you stop the effects happen in reverse. It does funny stuff to yer head, I tell ya."
Rocangus's eyes wandered off his customer to think about the pricing (not that you'd really be able to tell with his eyes hidden behind his head-wrap). He inhaled a puff of smoke before continuing.
"My normal prices are usually driven up by the cost of the bottle, but the stuff uses beans from a mountain tree, so it's hard to resupply. If you want a lot then I can do barrels and cut it down to 1500 gold per bottle-worth, minimum 50 bottle-worth. I got 100 in stock now and I can have another 100 next week."
|
|
|
|
Post by SummerCrow on Aug 24, 2015 7:23:31 GMT -6
"What do you mean, 'funny stuff to your head?' I can't have a bunch of half-crazed dragons running around. And taguel are already hard enough to control. Does it affect all laguz equally? What about beorc? What kind of increase in productivity can I expect in the short-term? In the long-term? Is there anything I need to watch out for? Side effects? Withdrawal? Addiction?" The cloaked man unleashes a barrage of questions. "You're asking me to pay an exorbitant price before you've even convinced me of your product."
|
|
|
|
Post by Neo on Aug 25, 2015 20:02:15 GMT -6
"We're being mobilized to put an end to the rebellion," Farah answered, casually kicking her sandals off and plopping down in a chair across from the old Crow. "My forces have been ordered to guard the road between Fort Verist and the capital. I'll be leaving early tomorrow morning."
Farah reclined a bit in her chair, clearly quite satisfied with the level of comfort it provided. Ah... Much better than those steel-like monstrosities in the Royal Hall. Whoever started the whole idea that all Laguz prefer to live off the land needs to be eaten.
"So, tell me about my new staff. But only what I need to know, Crow. I'll find the rest out myself tomorrow. Right now, all I want is a hot shower and some sleep."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 25, 2015 22:37:18 GMT -6
"My, what silly busywork to keep my lady's time. If they didn't come from King Bastian Ferik himself, I'd call it crazy." The old crow says through a cheeky grin, before turning absolutely serious. "...So I can only assume that their small forces are set to launch a full assault if they have you doing this personally. I shan't bother you for your small break with my natterings, then."
He straightens his back, opening up Barabas' records to show Farrah his fabricated documents.
"The good news is, your new man is stunningly well prepared. He claims to have served one of Bastian Ferik's cousins and nothing, not even the records of his old house or of the house he claims to have belonged to hold any information to contradict that. I believe he has connections, or perhaps he cashed in on his close position to the young lord." The old crow's voice begins to crack and he waits a moment for his throat to clear. "...In short, I advise you not trust him. We only even caught wind of his name on a fluke, and who knows what he's after now?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Neo on Aug 25, 2015 23:11:50 GMT -6
Completely unconcerned, Farah nodded and yawned. "Right then. Tell him to be outside at zero six tomorrow morning, dressed for travel, and to bring any preferred weapons, just in case. I don't think we'll see any fighting, but you can never be too sure, right?"
She stands up and leans over the chair, resting her arms on the top of the chair, her golden eyes glinting with mischief and amusement. "Anything else? If not, I'm going to bed now."
|
|
|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 25, 2015 23:38:09 GMT -6
The record keeper chuckles. "I think you'll notice anything else I could tell you from the get go. Do try not to be gone too long, my dear. This manor is far too quiet without you."
|
|
|
|
Post by Neo on Aug 26, 2015 19:51:45 GMT -6
"Don't worry, I'll be home soon," Farah answers, smiling. "After all this, I think I'm going to put in for some vacation time. Maybe try and find a nice Mr Wolf to liven up the manor a bit."
She chuckled at the old Bat's shocked expression. Bidding him goodnight, she turned on her heel and walked back to the main building, the giant three story manor house. Unlocking the doors, she quickly strode up to the master bedroom on the second floor. Sighing heavily, Farah slipped out of her sandals once more, and quickly undressed.
I dunno what it is, but something about all this... Feels wrong. But at least the shower feels nice.
After a long, hot shower, she climbed into her very large, very comfy canopy bed, and buried her face in her very large pillow.
Maybe I should think about retiring soon...
|
|
|
|
Post by HHDeception on Aug 26, 2015 21:01:58 GMT -6
Rocangus coughed through his nose, but with an amused tone, however that's possible. Might be a Hawk thing. But he was soon speaking so quickly that it was practically impolite.
"Oh...beorc. I miss that appreciation! Aha brilliant, withdrawl! Yes, that's it. Kicks in if yer use'n it for a consecutive week or so, depends on body weight, but nay race, funny that. I think it's all mental, right lad? So if yer brain is the same when transformed the mind potion is as well. It keeps you as sharp as you are wide awake. Heart beats faster, makes you quicker. It actually stops you from sleeping, mate. If you overdose you jitter but it's hard to overdose unless you're using the brew of those worms across the street."
And that's when he leaned over on the counter, took another breath and kept going.
"Cause it's all in the grain count see? A walnut's size dissolves in a flask a water, but what those others don' count is the water itself. Trade secret don'cha know. For their schlock you'd need to drink two doses a day for the same effect as mine or ye'll crash, so they milk ya' twice as and worse the risk for yer men. As opposed to my humble offerin'. My way you keep the potency without the withdrawal hittin' in a day's time. One sloppy cup every other day will get you three without ill effects and a nice gentle-like down from the high. Adjusted up to a week for what timin' yer orderin'."
One more puff.
"If that's what yer payin' for, that is."
|
|
|
|
Post by SummerCrow on Aug 26, 2015 21:33:02 GMT -6
The cloaked figure waves a hand in front of his face to repel the pungent smoke. He sweeps the left half of his cloak open, withdrawing slightly to shelter whatever's inside. The sound of clacking a few seconds later signals he's begun work on his abacus. He stares, transfixed, muttering to himself.
"1500, bottle, doseage, once a day, number of workers... 50, 100... Backorder, supply, cost of labor. Transport, another 2 man-hours gone... 60- call it 50% increase in hours, factor in overtime pay, hazard pay for night labor... tch, even for those cats, I'll bet, not that it affects them... Torches, lanterns, fuel. Expedited material transport. Extra horses, probably one or two. Daily man-hour increase, total estimated labor remaining, account for breaks and meals. One, four, one, five, nine..." He stops his muttering, staring at the abacus with dissatisfaction smeared across his face.
"1400 each. For your entire stock, and an order for whatever more you can produce. No more," the cloaked man finally says.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 26, 2015 23:15:49 GMT -6
Barabas stands in front of his mirror, carefully applying his cravat beneath his white undershirt. His expression doesn't move as he fiddles with the cloth. Of the many little details which unnerved him in his solitude, mirrors had always been the worst. Still, it was there to be used and he knew the importance of keeping a well kept outfit.
He places his overcoat around his shoulders, shrugs it on and buttons it up bottom to top, smoothing everything over and quickly turning away. As he does so, two polite knocks sound on his door. He looks out at the sunrise, and opens it up.
"Good morning, sir... Oslo?" Barabas guesses at the identity of the brother, figuring he'd be the one waking everyone else.
"Anders." The butler says with a smile. "Oslo has just gone to bed. Did you have a restful sleep?"
Barabas nods. "What shall my duties be today?"
"You're to meet lady Farrah." Anders replies. "In precisely one hour, at six o' clock. You're to prepare for travel and... bring a weapon of your choice."
Barabas notices his puzzlement, and finds himself able to empathise. "...Weapon, sir?" He asks innocently.
"Indeed, of course we found none in your baggage." Anders tells him. "Perhaps I can assist you in finding something before your hour is up. Do you have any preferences? Anything at all you can use?"
"Perhaps a staff. Healing or otherwise, if such a thing is available?"
Anders furrows his brow slightly, but nods. "It will be difficult to borrow what little healing equipment is available to us, but I shall see what I can do. I see that you are very well prepared already, so you may find me before you take your leave in the lobby."
They share an affirmative glance and Barabas closes the door as Anders leaves. Going straight for his baggage, Barabas opens his case and takes the three small throwing knives and rondell style dagger which he had placed there the night before. He had, of course, brought them in on his person. He takes a few minutes to slip them into their usual place, then searches his belongings for anything else of use. There were of course medicinal ingredients, vulnerary herb and other reagents which could be made into a healing concoction, or a poison with the right distillation kit. There would be no time for that, however. He decides to simply take the vulnerary, and leave everything else. He also takes a waterskin, which he assumed could be filled later.
Rather than lingering, he heads straight to the lobby.
"Aye, there's the man o' the hour!" Bonnie Ronnie's booming voice precedes his even coming into Barabas' sight. "Now what gets a man in such good graces with the illustrious queen o' wolves that she takes 'im out on his first day, eh!?"
The bulky hawkman takes Barabas by the shoulders and forces him into a painful hair tussling, neither tact not dignity an apparent part of his vocabulary. As the terrifying grip relaxes, Barabas stands back upright and begins to straighten his hair.
"I do not know any better than you do." He admits. "Rest assured, you will hear news as promptly as I can deliver it."
Ronnie snorts, folding his muscular arms. He gazes down on Barabas in a way which would intimidate most normal men, and with a tone and face of condescension explains his case. "Maybe she thought yeh'd be able to protect yerself better'n the rest o' the crew. Ye' look like a strong man, even if ye're nae actin' like one!"
"Oh? I would have assumed you would be the natural choice if that were the case." Barabas states, shooting a questioning glance.
"Aye, that would be the case." Bonnie Ronnies's gaze breaks, a shamed grin painting his face. "Once was a warrior, I, but now? Me wings're clipped and me pride crippled with 'em. I look like a terrifying beast, och nae more harmless 'n a kitten."
"My aching bones might argue with that claim, sir Ronald."
Bonnie Ronnie laughs mirthfully, and flexes a bicep. "Ye' din a man's heart good, Barbie!"
Barabas opens his mouth to protest, then stops himself. "You are very much welcome, sir Ronald. You may be looked down upon by your own kin, but I should see you as nothing other than my better."
"Oh deary, there's no need to be so humble." The Matron's voice rings from behind as she appears with the two other maids in tow. "We Beorc may be weak, but we have other skills with which to serve our betters. Here in our rightful place, we are much more adept than Bonnie Ronnie here."
Barabas' eyes shift to watch the newcomers. Although the Matron's tone was neutral, the spiteful look on her face tells a different story. Willimina, on the other hand, only seems to lower her head more and more as time goes on.
"...What of misstreas Miata, then?" Barabas asks of the nonchalant looking cat girl. "I would not dream of volunteering anyone else, mind you, but the noble cat tribe are as skilled as they are strong."
"Such a sweetheart, brave sir Barabas." Miata giggles, still looking quite bored. "Though I might look normal enough in this form, my other was made by the gods little more imposing than a common housecat. Like sir Ronald, I am unfit among my kind."
"I see." Barabas states. "Sir Ronald, I apologise for doubting..." He trails off, noticing Anders' triumphant return, a staff raised high. It's a beautiful piece of woodwork, the shaved ashen pole shining white like ivory and topped with a beautiful emerald jewel.
"There's not a moment to spare, sir Barabas!" He shouts from across the room. "Lady Farrah is waiting...! Here."
He stops to catch his breath, holding the staff out for Barabas to take.
"Rescue..." Barabas muses as he obliges the gift.
"Suiting, no?" Anders asks. "It was all they had to spare in the temple on the first floor, and I thought it might be perfect!"
"I'm impressed." Barabas says.
"Quite." The Matron adds. "Well done, Anders. Now go begin the day's sorting."
"Right away, madame!" Anders stands dutifully, turning back the way he came. The Matron looks at Barabas and ushers him forward.
"Come, I shall escort you as far as the courtyard. There, you will meet our mistress."
|
|
|
|
Post by Neo on Aug 27, 2015 0:25:02 GMT -6
I really don't want to be up this early... I miss my comfy bed already.
Farah yawned as she finished securing Shadow's saddle. Despite how tired she felt, she really didn't look like it. Her beautiful snowy white hair was freshly washed and brushed, and pulled back into a long braid, and her golden eyes were bright and alert. Her smooth, tan skin glistened in the morning light, and she appeared the very epitome of beauty. Her grayish white wolf ears poked through her hair, and her bushy silvery tail swished back and forth. She wore a simple sleeveless silver shirt, twin golden bracelets and twin golden earrings, and plain black leather leggings, custom fit and designed not to restrict her tail. She wore simple brown shoes, and a white sash tied around her waist.
The horse eagerly pawed at the ground and snorted, and Farah smiled. "Oh, stop your complaining. We'll be leaving soon."
He shook his head and snorted again. The majestic, tall black horse was her pride and joy, and her dear friend. A purebred horse of near legendary lineage, he could outrun any horse in the kingdom, and beyond, and even keep pace with her. It was well known just how much Farah loved this horse, and she never let anyone else besides her ride him. Well, at least until now.
Farah's ears twitched and perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps from behind her. Smiling, she turned to see Matron and her new staff, Barabas, walking towards her.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 27, 2015 1:24:50 GMT -6
The Matron leads Barabas through the path he had entered the day before, he had not expected to be through it again so soon. Nor had he expected what waited for them there, almost feeling apprehensive as the host before him came into view. A host for his capture? No such thing would be necessary, this was a host for war. They come through the first gate and Barabas gets his first look at his new lord, or lady rather.
Her bronze skin would be expected of a wolf Laguz, while the evident luxury of her lifestyle might curb that it's clear that she spent a lot of time outdoors. Hunting, Barabas would assume, having done so on many occasions with his former lord. More catching to Barabas, were the two golden globes - not those ones - affixed on her retinas. He stares into them, but though their eyes meet Barabas neither feels nor gives a feeling of contact with his. Instead, he stared right through her eyes and into the prying mind behind them. He lowers his gaze as he draws near and the Matron speaks.
"My lady." She curtsies. "I present you Barabas Levitt, your new servant."
Barabas kneels as low as he can while remaining careful to not let his suit touch the ground, bowing as he does so and closing his eyes rather than watching the dirt. He listens to her tail swish back and forth and waits to be granted the right to speak.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 27, 2015 9:44:22 GMT -6
Judah glanced at the village they had arrived at by dusk. Theobe Village was wide, just as large as a town, and one day might become as large as a small city. The carriage pulled up to the gates, and they were soon opened by two guardsmen; these guardsmen were both beorc.
As the carriage passed, Judah slipped into the shadows of the small forest; it wouldn't do to be seen, and it was clear these beorc weren't laguz-friendly due to the checking of the carriage and hardened expression on their faces. Judah sat down, and he waited until the Five Maidens' concert would be done.
It was a long wait.
|
|
|
|
Post by Neo on Aug 28, 2015 1:15:50 GMT -6
Farah's eyes sparkled. "Hmm... You're quite the interesting fellow, aren't you?"
She turns to the Matron. "You're dismissed, my dear. Do try not to overwork yourself while I'm gone."
Farah then turned back to her horse, and patted Shadow's side. "I trust you know how to ride, Barabas?"
|
|
|
|
Post by HHDeception on Aug 28, 2015 2:26:33 GMT -6
Rocangus's eyes were drawn to the abacus in envy. Three right, two left, the numbers flashed through his mind as he followed the muttering of the man before him. It's moments like these where he lamented his wings. On the battlefield, no Laguz would be caught dead using a metal beorc crutch, and much was the same on the battlefield of his mind. But it was the structure that was hypnotizing. Ten struts, seven beads divided into five and two...and there what we know as place values wormed its way into his head. The shifting of the beads meant a count. But a single bead could indicate the movement of an entire ocean of bottles. The difference between 1000 and 2000 is an hour of counting grains, and simply cramming that between the flick of a finger was dizzying. Nauseating. Sickening. Scope and scale began harassing Rocangus's thoughts as it became clear a construction project was in the works. Bricks and mortar, a wall, a dazzling array of interlocking uniformity. A pattern the eyes can hardly hold yet follow and the scope of which is beyond contemplation. In his mind, the wall dwarfed him. A castle wall thousands bricks tall towered over him and brought helplessness crashing down. It's impossible, utterly impossible, to even begin counting all those bricks. It would take a life time or more. And what if he lost track? He would have to start again, and again. And with the flick of a finger, the click of a bead, a second one was thrust upon him. Twice the impossible. His inner Sisyphus braced itself for a tumble back down the hill..
*HMP*
Rocangus twitched as he felt pain. He was clutching his cigar so hard it had broken and fallen onto his hand. Still smoldering, it gave the bandages there a singe. We was quick to put it out, instinct overriding cognitive impulses. And it was then that he realized that he was so interested in the abacus and his customer's work that he had stopped breathing for a moment. He inhaled sharply, and some of the residue smoke filled his lungs. His mind brought itself back down to a state of relative calm.
"Ach, no biggie," Rocangus said, shaking out his hand and quickly relighting and taking in another puff, "Tell ya what lad. If you do the first barrel at 1500, they're 1350 thereafter. I need the initial gold to contract a long-term supplier. Nay! Make it 1300 past the first. And if the first barrel innit workin' I'll refund the difference. What'cha say?"
Earlier that morning:
General MacGriever watched as one of his hawks flew off towards the mountains. He'd want his custom regiment for this assignment, not his castle forces.
Today he was actually wearing a shirt. It was gilded and very royal looking. All the more reason to drape his wings about his chest as he normally did. Well, that and wings tend to get in the way of riding.
"Hyah!"
Corona, his transport steed, bolted off into the sunrise.
|
|
|
|
Post by The Big Cheese on Aug 28, 2015 11:40:02 GMT -6
"As you wish, lady Farah. I shall be sure to give these old bones a rest."
The Matron curtsies one more time, turning away to take her leave. She gasps slightly and turns to look as Farah asks Barabas if he knows how to ride, but quickly continues returning to her chores.
Assuming his right to stand and staring over the gleaming black coat of the muscular horse beside Farah, Barabas hazards a guess as to why the Matron was so surprised.
"You are fond of this horse, I take it? I have ridden, but never such a fine creature as this. If I am overstepping my bounds..."
|
|
