[Recess Post] Jygust 25th Dreams of honor and blood [closed]

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[Recess Post] Jygust 25th Dreams of honor and blood [closed]

Post by Tristam »

OOC: Baylan, I give you permission to elaborate upon the dream and vision as you wish. Bernice, your patrol was just finishing up a sweep an area between Darktown and the Knot and coming from that alley into Market Square. Have fun!

The Market Square is situated in the heart of Dort and is essential to this burgeoning town. Close to Watertown and the harbor, this is where merchants, caravans, farmers and anyone seeking commerce comes upon their arrival in Dort. Not only does the Market Square attract the local villagers, it is a global meeting place for all those who wants to purchase or sell commodities. The Dortenese prosperity and abundance depends largely on the business with both inland and external vendors.

Small businesses and shops display their goods outside in an inviting show to attract customers. The owners exclaim their superiority proudly and neighbors are fierce competitors. Then there are the farmers with their harvest and animal who simply try to make a living. New business emerge here constantly, and the opportunities are endless and the competition equal.

Around the Market Square there are situated several Inns and Taverns, mostly inhabited with rich and powerful merchants, nobles and travelling digitaries hoping to cut a deal. Outside these fancy taverns there are tables set up where the bargaining is continuously present. Harsh and unforgiving phrases are hurled and paralleled with luxurious offers. Colleagues become enemies, and enemies become colleagues.

In the ominous, narrow alleys running in and out from the Market Square, known as the Knot, the more questionable business of unlawful dealers and smugglers are present here as well. This is widely known and whether they have been bribed or or are simply ignorant, the citywatch do little to prevent it.

This is not all that the Market Square has to offer though. Among the many taverns and other entertainment outlets are the Temple of Blessed Wealth, the Hot Springs and the Von-zu Dort-Billigh House of Theatre, all within easy walking distance.

In the centre of the Market Square is a symbol of the modernization of Dort, as well as an enduring symbol of the faith of the city. A towering, gleaming statue of Pecunia stands tall and strong surrounded by the magnificent construction of the Aquaduct, which provides fresh water to the entire city and its population in a series of beautiful cascading waterfalls. The city watch regularly move hawkers and merchants from setting up their stalls and booths too close to the statue, and watch all who go near with a wary eye, and the sea birds glide and soar overhead.


This was the place from his dream. The statue of Pecunia was so obvious a landmark that it could not be be mistaken. In the dream, the statue had drawn a sword and pointed downward towards the market below. Tracing down the arc with his eyes, Baylan could see the narrow alleyway that must lead into the infamous Knot. To one side, a stall sold brass trinkets while on the other a knife grinder sent sparks into the air as he sharpened blades. Still, it was the alley that caught his attention for in the dream that was where she would come from, the Maiden of Blood.
[size=100]
Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself.

Shel Silverstein[/size]
Baylan Anvilhammer
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

Rising. Rolling. Dipping. Sinking and again rising.

Nights aboard the ship had not been very enjoyable below the deck. Baylan had been assigned a cot in the crew section of the hold. Hot, stinking working men lay very near each other in uncomfortable racks. Sometimes the rhythmic patten of the ocean's dance would lull him into a trance that sent him drifting off to a deep slumber. Most often, however, he would be flung from one end of the hard wooden board and into his sleeping neighbor-sailor's lap repeatedly by rogue waves. As a method of self preservation the dwarf had become accustomed to sleeping above deck. He would lean back against a stack of ropes or some empty sacks and let the stars sing to him their lullabies.

It was during the course of one such evening under the black skies of the Seven Isles in which Baylan had his second vision.

**

He was once again in the strange dark room before the hungry forge. Only this time he did not feel like a visitor. He was not the frightened young child who had visited the strange land last time. He was terrified. Just not in the same way. He began to take note of the more peculiar aspects of the proceedings. He could touch things... and feel very real tactile responses. He moved a hammer from one side of the large work bench to the other, testing the physics of his dream world. The fire was warm. The steel was cool. The smell...

There it was again. That pungent ferric scent. That disgustingly sweet burning in the back of his throat. Baylan's knees went weak as the rancorous odor of crusted blood drew his nearly-tearing eyes up from the bench and towards the approaching silhouette.

The Crimson Knight strode heavily towards the table and immediately lifted a crudely-formed caltrop from a large pile of like implements. He turned the four-pronged weapon in his gloved hand, seemingly inspecting its quality. Baylan found himself shying away from the towering figure. His eyes could not be forced upon the terrible force in front of him. Confusing pangs of guilt struck the dwarf as the Red Warrior quickly discarded roughly three-quarters of the traps into a bin of scrap metal at the foot of the work bench.

It wasn't only guilt. Baylan felt insulted as the caltrops rang into that bucket. Those were his. He made those. He was sure of it now.

"What is this!" Baylan screamed at the warrior before him. He was in pain. He was afraid. He was very alone and confused.

The remaining weapons found themselves being scooped up by strong hands and dropped into a large leather sack. The only response to the dwarf's cry was a light thud as a small wooden box was placed on the table before him.

The room melted. A statue emerged from the darkness. A square. An alley way. A drawn sword.

A woman.

**

THIS alley way, Baylan thought to himself, astonished.

The chatter of merchants and sailors was a roar around him, but he heard none of it. The ship had stopped to unload stores from Mach Mellin and take on supplies for Sierra and some of the crew had snuck off into the trading capital to do a little sightseeing. Setting eyes upon the statue of Pecunia and then the narrow alley in front of him... the images came back to him.

What did it all mean? What am I to do? What was in that box?

Thoughts sloshed through Baylan's mind like molten pig iron sliding through a blast furnace.
Last edited by Baylan Anvilhammer on Wed Aug 06, 2008 2:55 am, edited 3 times in total.
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Post by Bernice Potts »

"One two!"
Three four!
"One two!"
Three four!

She preferred her halberd, but her unit was fresh and thusly decided to do marching with the basic swords. She had her men work with their forte' in arms, but all of them had to have the basic blades, as ordered by her superiors. She was still learning about this "unit" stuff, and she had to learn her basic daggers anyway as a failsafe should the halberd fail. Each of them had their blades drawn for formation practice as they departed from the alleyway.

"Companyyyyyy... halt!"

Though her reputation as a promising sergeant had not gone under. Just a week and a half ago, she had pulled an oversleeping wise ass in her unit by the ankles from the barracks and made him perform all the drills in nothing but his loins. When he asked her in cheek if she liked what she saw, she said no... and gave him a left hook from the nether, taking him to the ground. After that she liked what she saw.

"Ease arms!"

With that all of them sheathed their weapons as she turned around at her men and nodded, seeing that they were getting better at walking.

"Nice job, men. I hardly 'ear a ragged breatha' among ya. Wilson... yer doing a 'ell of a lot better these rounds."

"Thank you, ma'am" a portly member of her unit replied with sweat dripping down his face.

"Alright, men. Form ranks and take a breather patrolling the marketplace. At ten burns, return to the statue for line up and we head to the docks. Dismissed!"

They all saluted in union as Bernice took her post by the fountain, watching her men break up into threes and going their ways. With a sigh, she took off her helmet to catch a breather and shook her head. This 'leadership' stuff was a lot of work.

It would take a moment longer to realize Bernice was a woman... scars on her face from her time with Loch made her even more male-like and her almost non-existent chest could pass her as a male at first glance if it wasn't for her voice. She did, however, start shaving her eyebrows to a feminine curve and let her hair go slightly longer to a medium length in order to make sure people could tell the difference.

She looked up at the statue of Pecunia again. It wasn't a look of hate, but rather apathy. Though she didn't blame the happenings around town on her, it was wealth which was making all the hell around town go 'round. A double-edged sword was wealth, as it brought out the true colors of many a soul. It was also the same reason some of her in-laws were killed and she was stabbed.

Gods... never payed much attention to 'em until recently. Bloody leeches, we humans are. Paying 'em attention just to suit our own needs. I wonder if they even give a damn about who pays them a lip... criminals, tradesmen. It don't matter in this town... it makes me sick.
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

Watching the group march from the alley, Baylan found that his heart was beating rather quickly with curious anticipation. Heavy footsteps thudded their way across the square and up to the statue by which he stood. Trying to avoid being rude, the dwarf partially averted his attention to the nearby market stalls. There was big business taking place in Dort. Products moved much faster here than they did back home. Mesmerized by the surrounding hustle and bustle, Baylan hardly noticed the dispersion of the formation and the now at-ease posture of the figure from the alley.

Looking back at Bernice, the dwarf was now sure of it.

This is her. It was this very woman in my dream. But what am I to do? I can't very well knock into her and start babbling about divine knights and mysterious tokens that I don't even have.

Feeling rather foolish, Baylan felt about his person checking for the small box. It had been a dream, he was certain. But the gods do have their ways. And strange ways they were. Digging through his pockets and his satchel with gusto, the dwarf must have been a sight to see.

Father-- I am here. What am I to do? I just do not understand. I need Your guidance.

OOC:Re-posted with correct account. Sorry.
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Post by Tristam »

Baylan was uncertain if he remembered another detail from his dream or if another's voice actually rang in his head. Either way, these were the words of the warrior in his vision.

Search for it in certainty and you will find it. Dig for it in doubt and it shall be forever beyond you. Go forth and do my bidding.
[size=100]
Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself.

Shel Silverstein[/size]
Baylan Anvilhammer
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

A wave of recognition splashed over the young dwarf like the crushing tides that he had just recently been floating over so easily. Motivated by curiosity, a heart for adventure, and a new-found faith in his dream-walking deity... Baylan approached Bernice with a determined stride.

Removing his hat, bright Jygust sun illuminated the dwarf's blood red braids as he nervously shook them into a more presentable configuration before announcing himself, "Excuse me, madam... Do you have a moment? I have something to discuss with you that is of great importance."

The words were formed with his mouth, but he knew not from where they came. Is this sensation... am I a puppet of fate? A prophet of the Father?

Baylan was slightly apprehensive. Although he was highly receptive to the idea of doing the work of the Pantheon- the idea of losing his free will... being unable to plan and think for himself did not sit well with him. Baylan's belief that a man makes his own destiny was a sharp counterpoint to the teachings of his faith. This was one logical knot that he was sure would need to be untied in the near future. For now he avoided this particular connundrum and focused on the armored woman before him.
Last edited by Baylan Anvilhammer on Wed Aug 13, 2008 4:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
Bernice Potts
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Post by Bernice Potts »

Bernice had noticed the Dwarf, but said nothing. She knew Dwarves had a tendency to keep to their own affairs and would ask help if they needed it.

[Dwarven]

"Good tide, Brother of the Mountain"

That was about all she knew with enough Dwarven to get her around as a tourist of the mountain lands. Her arms folded as she regarded the dwarf before her. She had to look assertive and ready to work in front of mountain folk.

[Human]

"Did ye lose something? I noticed you were diggin in yer satchel. What can I do for ya?"
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

Baylan's tension eased considerably upon hearing the choppy salutation. He had not heard a word spoken in his native tongue since he boarded the Drocker and set sail many days ago. This being his first time away from home, the small gesture was enough to make him immediately like Bernice.

The grammar was correct, but the accent plainly alien. Figuring that the woman was not very well learned in the language, Baylan saved her the chore of translating a long reply and simply uttered a polite 'Hello!" in dwarven before continuing in human tongue, "My name is Baylan Anvilhammer. I have been called to this statue to meet you and deliver something into your possession."

Baylan reached into the one pocket that he had not previously checked. The one pocket in which he would not have stuck something as bulky as the box. Looking down as he removed the wooden curiosity from his left breast pocket, the dwarf smiled a warm fuzzy smile. A smile that he was not accustomed to wearing. Believing... he thought to himself, Having faith... His divine presence feels so comforting to me.

He continued to Bernice, "I know not what it is. It was given to me. I hope you can make heads or tails of it. I have not opened it."

With an outstretched arm and a sincere look of joy mixed with nervous anticipation, the dwarf pushed the oaken box towards Bernice, offering it to her freely.
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Post by Bernice Potts »

"Somethin'... fer me? Did Uncle Brimmortar send you? You sure you got the right person?"

She was curious, but unsure as to what was in the box. Uncrossing her arms, she wondered how in the nether he was able to get that oaken box out of a vest pocket. Taking the box in her hands warily, she unhinged the box and saw a bunch of red cloth at first. As she pulled it out of the box, she whistled at the quality of the fine cape. Never having seen dye of that quality before, she carefully outstretched it, revealing it to be a crimson cape with deep red fox fur. Kneeling down, she was surprised at the warmth of the thing and took off her hand armor to feel the texture.

"Baylan, eh? ... You sure I'm the right person fer somethin' like this? My name is Seargent Bernice Potts. Unless Uncle Brimmortar wanted ta splurge on a promotion gift, who'd else wanna send me a fine work like this?"

She lifted her head to Baylan and smirked.

"Don't tell me I got me a secret admirer goin' on, do I?"
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

As much as the crafter would have liked to indicate his appreciation of Bernice's light remark, Baylan was feeling pulled by the gravity of the situation. He looked at the box with a puzzled grimace. I must be sick... I must be mad.

He had earlier pretended to not notice that the case that he produced from his pocket was decidedly four-times the size of the capacity of said pocket. But then it happened again. A human-sized poncho trimmed with thick, luscious animal hair unfolded from the small box and into Bernice's arms. Bay was a dwarf with a mind for logic. And this was genuinely making him feel woozy. He knew for a fact that he did not have an entire large article of clothing packed inside his front breast pocket for the previous three days. But sometimes facts can be deceptive.

"No, my lady. I was not sent by this Brimmortar you speak of."
Baylan looked over his shoulder cautiously as he nearly whispered, "Is there perhaps somewhere nearby where we can speak privately?"

The messenger hoped that his impassioned tones would not be lost on the woman.

No... I am not mad. Strange are the ways of the gods. I just need to learn how to ride the rails set out before me from time to time.
Last edited by Baylan Anvilhammer on Thu Aug 14, 2008 7:22 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Bernice Potts »

Bernice blushed slightly in a sheepish and confused gaze. Was this Dwarf hitting on her? She knew her brother married a dwarf and maybe the word spread.

"Listen, I don't got too long. The boys will be coming back for the second half of our patrol. This better not be some sorta flirtin'. I ain't that type of girl, contrary to what ya might of heard!"

She stood up slowly to find a more private corner of the market, making sure to keep the cloak off the ground, but not wearing it. Who the nether would be sending her such a fine present other than some flirty playboy? But what guy would use a Dwarf to send such a gift?
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Post by Tristam »

There was never a lack of sheltered corners within the marketplace. It was fact that made sweeps of the square for smugglers rather troublesome in fact. The easiest thing to do was to duck back into the alleyway a little though there was also an enclosed area between to rug sellers or any number of nearby taverns off the plaza.
[size=100]
Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself.

Shel Silverstein[/size]
Baylan Anvilhammer
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

Leading Bernice back down the alley from which she had only recently emerged, Baylan spoke to her in hushed tones were she to follow.

"This may be a little hard to swallow, Miss. I eh... I was given this token by what I believe to be a higher power, if you will."

If Bernice had followed him, the couple would now be standing in the relative dark of the narrow alley before the square. Not one to fidget or cast aside responsibility- and recognizing the lady's time restraints, the dwarf spoke the words he felt needed to be said:

"The box was given to me by an Aspect of the Holy Father of the Pantheon. I have been sent to meet you, guided by the Red Warrior Himself."
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Post by Bernice Potts »

"Eh?!"

Her face blinked at him in a confused manner with a slight flush in her cheeks. The battle-hardened maiden showed her feminine side with the dumbfounded gaze before she crossed her arms.

"The Red Warrior?! A god is flirtin' with me? Wh- wha's this gotta do with-"

And then it hit her... the night she prayed about a "god of justice" and having her prayer answered. Her arms unfolded as her cheeks flushed further.

"Eh? What's this Red Warrior gotta do with Justice? I never really followed religion and such."
Baylan Anvilhammer
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

Baylan was at a loss himself. Once again, he was speaking of things that he knew very little about. And with such assertiveness. He knew not from where his confidence came. Bay gave Bernice what little information he did have:

"What I know, Miss comes only from the oral tradition passed down by my elders, you see. My father spoke to me of a Master of the Heavens. The King of the Pantheon. This Holy father stands for many things... and he is worshiped by many people in many different ways."

The dwarf began to sweat slightly in the warm summer air. Only then did he begin to realize that the nauseating concoction created by the various market odors that lingered nearby was not sitting very well with his stomach.

"One of the ways people worship this Great Power is by paying homage to this figure they refer to as the Red Warrior. I have seen Him in my dreams. He comes to me in the still of the night. He is a frightful and terrible presence. But at the same time... he does exude a certain aura of control. Order."

Baylan once again glanced around nervously, now self-conscious about his admittedly wild story.

"I do not know any open worshipers of the Red Warrior. But I feel as if I have been chosen to do his duty in our world. The first of my duties was to embark on this journey. And the second... was to bring this to you. Dear lady, I wish I knew more. But I simply have nothing to offer you except this: If it is a JUST god you are looking for. You have found him. This I do know."

Satisfied that he had told the woman all he had to offer, Baylan took a deep breath and fidgeted with his clothing a bit. Some people would say that constant adjustments about one's person may be an indication of low self-esteem. For Baylan, it was more simply a nervous tick. He did not like the lack of direction that comes from having completed a task.

"Now Sergeant Potts. How else might I help you to understand?"
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Post by Bernice Potts »

"Uhm... so is he asking me out er somethin'? What does he want me to do? I got me an Uncle-In-Law who's a Dwarf, but other than that, I dunno the first thing about Dwarven gods."

Bernice looked flustered, but honored. What was she supposed to do with this? Why would a god go so far out of his way to find her? Did her prayer mean that much to a god? She didn't even really like gods all that much because of the idiots she had seen who worshiped them. She didn't know how to pray, really, save for talking to the god in question.

"Alright, Red... you went through all this trouble. Care to tell us yerself?"
Last edited by Bernice Potts on Sat Aug 30, 2008 5:14 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Tristam »

Just as Baylan had a few moments earlier, Bernice heard a voice in her head. It was sure of itself like a commander on the battlefield issuing instructions to his troops. It sounded familiar to her and the words felt like a remembrance of something she heard long ago.

Search for it in certainty and you will find it. Dig for it in doubt and it shall be forever beyond you. As he said this, Bernice's eyes once more fell on the cloak that was her gift and for the first time she noticed that the stitches along the collar were actually runes sewn into the fabric. They were in Dwarvish, yet Bernice found she could read them.

Between Dort and Nazareen is a bridge of blood, to blood and from blood. She who wears this mantle is the Maiden of Blood and it is she that can rebuild the bridge.
[size=100]
Donald heard a mermaid sing, Susy spied an elf,
But all the magic I have known, I've had to make myself.

Shel Silverstein[/size]
Bernice Potts
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Post by Bernice Potts »

She read the runes aloud, not even knowing she could read Dwarven. Looking up to the sky, she was downright spooked. With a gulp she took a deep breath letting all of this sink in.

"Erm... well... lemme start searchin' then. This is some serious shit you're askin me, and... followin' a god shouldn't be some lip service, ya know!"

Bernice didn't know who she was talking to at that moment, the Red Warrior or Baylan. Not knowing where to speak to a god to, she just raised her head to the sky and spoke.

"I'm... gonna start learnin' how to dig before I can dig with confidence, if that's alright with you. This divine stuff is over my head... but I'm tellin' you, I'll keep diggin'! This ain't some willy nill shit yer askin' me, so I ain't gonna treat it as such as just put the thing on. There's a bloody country at stake 'ere!"

A panicked tear fell from her eyes. A god... wanted her to save the relations between Dort and Nazareen?

"Uhm... yeah. I'll do it... just... just... lemme learn how to dig. Yeah."
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Post by Baylan Anvilhammer »

Baylan's eyebrows raised slightly in curiosity at the woman's loud prayer. He wasn't one to judge... He was the one having nightmares about forging weapons for gods after all.

"Whatever you have there miss, I'd advise you to keep it to yourself for the time-being, understand? Think on all of this long and hard. And realize that you may lose friends -- or even gain enemies -- from an association with the Red Warrior."

Looking back towards the square, Baylan became even more anxious. The captain would surely be missing him before long and he hadn't even had a chance to eat yet.

"Miss Potts. If you ever need me. If you ever think I can do anything for you in service to the Knight. Send for me. I will be on the Isle of Sierra, exploring the jungles. For now I must leave. This puzzle appears to be your own. Remember my offer. Call on me when you need assistance that you can find nowhere else. Jol'dye, torin jargard!*"

With that final remark, Baylan began to turn towards the statue in search of a quick drink and dinner before he was due back to the ship as there was a tall order of deck-scrubbing and rope-mending lined up for the evening.

* Spoken in the tongue of the mountains : "Goodbye, my friend"
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