Did you think a little thing like the desert would stop me from finding you, little bird? You are far from your element of moist clouds and stone roosts, so cold, so cold. Here you are in my very home, even as you sought to escape. Foolish, little bird, foolish.
The sibilant voice sounded from the darkness around Brann, but despite his sharp eyes he could not identify the source. The abrasive sand was all around and hurt his feet, not only through its gritty bite but also with its scorching heat. Despite the darkness that enveloped him it felt as though the sun was still burning within the desert itself.
A slither of movement to his left caught his eye and Brann hopped sideways as a precaution, peering intently in the hopes of spying his tormentor Two unblinking golden eyes appeared from the darkness, revealed as though a veil had been lifted, and bored into Brann's very soul. He found himself paralysed, held defenseless in the power of that malicious gaze. He tried to speak but only a dry croak warbled from his throat.
That's right, little bird. Flight may have seemed your natural defence, your salvation, but it was all for naught. You have gone too far on the wing, and have landed not in the familiar world of heights and skies, but of heat and sand. This is the land of the snake, not the bird. This is the realm of the Viper. The ground is dangerous here, little bird, as you have just found out.
A blur of motion and Brann cried out, his wings thrashing as he fought to take flight. But the pain is his left wing throbbed, listing his body and sending him careening back toward the waiting embrace of burning sands. Somewhere below he heard a hissing laughter...
-------------------
Brann awoke tangled and sweating in his light blanket, his injured arm pinned and throbbing painfully beneath his body. Gingerly freeing himself from his snare, the achadhiel brushed damp hair from his face with his good hand and sat up on the edge of the bed. The gauzy curtain fluttered weakly in the window, admitting intermittent puffs of ocean air that managed to sneak so far from the shore but did little to break the heat of the city. Brann swept his raven locks up from the nape of his neck and let slow evaporation cool him off, before forcing himself to rise on unsteady legs.
In the darkness of the room it was hard to tell, but he thought there was some seepage into the bandages Lir had wrapped on his left forearm. The Twins knew it hurt enough to back that up, but he supposed that was to be expected. He been sliced, burned and sewn up just that morning, after all. The pain was a reminder to be more careful in the future.
Unfortunately it also was going to keep him awake, at least for a while. And when his stomach grumbled hungrily, Brann decided a visit to the cool environs of the Dwimmerwick's cavern-like common room was probably in order. The clerk Ulmandra had said there would be food later, and he knew there would be drink. Maneuvering carefully around his sore forearm, the achadhiel got dressed and headed downstairs.
Stepping down into the common room, Brann picked out a seat close to the serving counter. He wanted to do more than get a meal and a drink, he wanted to talk with a local. He knew nothing of Sabata other than it was dusty and hot, and if he was to make a living for himself here he needed to learn as much as he could, as quickly as possible. And whoever was serving this eveningtide in the Dwimmerwick was as good a place to start as any, in his mind.
A Late Supper - Chyril 22nd, ET
Moderator: Mods
It became instantly clear to Brann that there was food to be had downstairs. The smells alone would have made such a thing obvious...for the scent of minted goat and roasted...something...were in the air. Sure enough, the taproom had been converted into a lovely, orange-lit dining chamber, with a half dozen people sitting companionably at a single table where a large flank of mutton sat amid a lovely spread of steamed dumplings and bowls of curious, unrecognizable fruits.
"Bah! Laugh all you want! But in time, you'll see. You'll see, I sear it..." offered a tiny, old man with wandering, rheumatic eyes and gnarled, anxious hands.
"And just how much time?" replied a woman sitting across from him. She was dark-haired and dark-skinned, her hair mostly held back in a leather cap on her head. As broad-shouldered and muscular as most men, she nonetheless had a finely curvaceous figure, accentuated by the light vest and baggy breeches she wore. Brann knew in an instant that she was a local...or perhaps a nomad...though she spoke with very little accent. "If it will take so long, perhaps we should merely push our wagons ourselves."
The guests ate their meals not from plates, but from pieces of bread...large, bowl-shaped bread crusts that were rather uniform in size, and clearly baked such that they would finish hollow and serviceable as both plate, bowl, and even utensil...as Brann saw not a single fork or spoon in hand. They ate with their fingers...or failing this, they ate with pieces of this hard trencher bread cut away from the top when they first took it for use.
"Hahahaha!" a third man bellowed, an absolute mountain of human flesh that must have topped the scale at six and a half feet and well over fifteen stone. "I could breed a hundred horses before this magical self-drawn carriage could be built. Or even better...I could breed camel. At least a camel is smart. Hahahaha!"
"BAH! You'll see!"
"Yes, I know it. We'll see."
At the head of the table was a picturesque man with medium bronze skin and cool, gray eyes. He held a large knife in his hands with which he continued to carve the goat carefully even as he laughed at the old man's ravings. There was no sign of the hostess at the moment...but there was plenty of space at the main table...and the picturesque man at the far end of the table nodded at Brann and reached for another unused piece of bread for this new guest to use.
"Bah! Laugh all you want! But in time, you'll see. You'll see, I sear it..." offered a tiny, old man with wandering, rheumatic eyes and gnarled, anxious hands.
"And just how much time?" replied a woman sitting across from him. She was dark-haired and dark-skinned, her hair mostly held back in a leather cap on her head. As broad-shouldered and muscular as most men, she nonetheless had a finely curvaceous figure, accentuated by the light vest and baggy breeches she wore. Brann knew in an instant that she was a local...or perhaps a nomad...though she spoke with very little accent. "If it will take so long, perhaps we should merely push our wagons ourselves."
The guests ate their meals not from plates, but from pieces of bread...large, bowl-shaped bread crusts that were rather uniform in size, and clearly baked such that they would finish hollow and serviceable as both plate, bowl, and even utensil...as Brann saw not a single fork or spoon in hand. They ate with their fingers...or failing this, they ate with pieces of this hard trencher bread cut away from the top when they first took it for use.
"Hahahaha!" a third man bellowed, an absolute mountain of human flesh that must have topped the scale at six and a half feet and well over fifteen stone. "I could breed a hundred horses before this magical self-drawn carriage could be built. Or even better...I could breed camel. At least a camel is smart. Hahahaha!"
"BAH! You'll see!"
"Yes, I know it. We'll see."
At the head of the table was a picturesque man with medium bronze skin and cool, gray eyes. He held a large knife in his hands with which he continued to carve the goat carefully even as he laughed at the old man's ravings. There was no sign of the hostess at the moment...but there was plenty of space at the main table...and the picturesque man at the far end of the table nodded at Brann and reached for another unused piece of bread for this new guest to use.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Guest
"Eveningtide, gents..." Domino paused in the act of hanging up her bag at the door and bobbed a slight curtsey to the ladies present, her face split by an excessively cheerful grin, "And ladies... room for one more?"
It was a place she was at least passingly familiar with, and as she behaved as she always behaved: as if she belonged. Her walk and demeneour shouted this, from the sway of her hips to the confident way she crossed the floor to fetch herself a slab of the hard bread and take for herself a seat. Indeed, some of the regulars might know both her name and her face - while this might be a bad thing, not everybody in Sabata would go running directly to tell mummy. Besides, it was possible she would be gone by morningtide. You never knew. Domino knew better than to plan too far in advance; it was not the way a small-time charlatan lived.
Without particularly singling anybody out she nodded and smiled at the gathered, and then scanned the room for the most suitable seat. Of course, if she did know anybody in particular she would choose to sit with them; but then, she would not linger for longer than a moment or two deciding. It was never in her nature to appear hesitant.
It was a place she was at least passingly familiar with, and as she behaved as she always behaved: as if she belonged. Her walk and demeneour shouted this, from the sway of her hips to the confident way she crossed the floor to fetch herself a slab of the hard bread and take for herself a seat. Indeed, some of the regulars might know both her name and her face - while this might be a bad thing, not everybody in Sabata would go running directly to tell mummy. Besides, it was possible she would be gone by morningtide. You never knew. Domino knew better than to plan too far in advance; it was not the way a small-time charlatan lived.
Without particularly singling anybody out she nodded and smiled at the gathered, and then scanned the room for the most suitable seat. Of course, if she did know anybody in particular she would choose to sit with them; but then, she would not linger for longer than a moment or two deciding. It was never in her nature to appear hesitant.
The main table seemed a talkative one to Brann, and given that he was in need of information about Sabata the achadhiel quickly decided it would be the ideal place to have dinner. He guessed the group might be some sort of caravan troupe by their talk, and so much the better. If they knew of Sabata and other locations in Terra Incognita, he would be that much farther ahead.
Before he could react to the picturesque man’s silent invitation, Domino fairly burst upon the scene and preempted him. That was Brann’s immediate impression anyway, not because the flaxen-haired lass was moving with any great speed but rather simply based on her cheerful smile and direct manner. A private smile curled the corner of his mouth as he watched her sway over to the table and he decided this was a girl he’d like to know. A touch of caution was required of course, lest he get run over (in a manner of speaking), but it seemed a chance worth taking.
“Might I suggest two more?†he added on the heels of Domino’s inquiry, quickly seeking approval from the head of the table before glancing invitingly at the girl. “I’d welcome all the company I can find,†he explained with a warm smile, while gesturing with his good hand for Domino to choose a seat and precede him in getting her food served.
After giving her a chance to accept or decline his offer, Brann himself took a seat at the table and gratefully received the offered slice of goat with dumplings, all heaped in the odd bread dish. The achadhiel examined it briefly with a bemused look on his face before setting it down and starting with a dumpling. Like the others he did not stint for utensils, using the nimble fingers on his good hand to snare the morsel for a bite.
“Good eveningtide to you all,†he said after swallowing. “And thank you for having me at the table. My name is Brann, and I’m new to Sabata.†He grinned a bit sardonically, knowing that much had to be obvious to everyone. “Fresh off the boat, so to speak. So you’ll have to excuse me if I seem intrigued by the most mundane things.†He looked at his bread dish again and shook his head slightly at the novelty.
“Where do all of you call home? Are you locals?†he asked without pretense, onyx eyes circling the table face to face, before scooping up the lamb for a bite as he waited for the others to respond as they would.
Before he could react to the picturesque man’s silent invitation, Domino fairly burst upon the scene and preempted him. That was Brann’s immediate impression anyway, not because the flaxen-haired lass was moving with any great speed but rather simply based on her cheerful smile and direct manner. A private smile curled the corner of his mouth as he watched her sway over to the table and he decided this was a girl he’d like to know. A touch of caution was required of course, lest he get run over (in a manner of speaking), but it seemed a chance worth taking.
“Might I suggest two more?†he added on the heels of Domino’s inquiry, quickly seeking approval from the head of the table before glancing invitingly at the girl. “I’d welcome all the company I can find,†he explained with a warm smile, while gesturing with his good hand for Domino to choose a seat and precede him in getting her food served.
After giving her a chance to accept or decline his offer, Brann himself took a seat at the table and gratefully received the offered slice of goat with dumplings, all heaped in the odd bread dish. The achadhiel examined it briefly with a bemused look on his face before setting it down and starting with a dumpling. Like the others he did not stint for utensils, using the nimble fingers on his good hand to snare the morsel for a bite.
“Good eveningtide to you all,†he said after swallowing. “And thank you for having me at the table. My name is Brann, and I’m new to Sabata.†He grinned a bit sardonically, knowing that much had to be obvious to everyone. “Fresh off the boat, so to speak. So you’ll have to excuse me if I seem intrigued by the most mundane things.†He looked at his bread dish again and shook his head slightly at the novelty.
“Where do all of you call home? Are you locals?†he asked without pretense, onyx eyes circling the table face to face, before scooping up the lamb for a bite as he waited for the others to respond as they would.
Truth to be told, the main table was the only one at all occupied...and by only a half dozen individuals, leaving plenty of room for more. However, the individuals present were locals...and while it might be possible that Domino hadn't actually met all of them, it would have been strange if she had not at least heard of them.
"I'm Sahle. I usually work at the Crying Dragon, but we've got a deal going with Ulmandra to bring dinner. Have a seat..." intoned the picturesque, bronzed stud at the far end of the table. Indeed, he would have been noticed by Domino in the past, for he was most often seen working his shifts at the Crying Dragon where he routinely served out drinks and food (and perhaps a few broken hearts).
As if in contrast, the towering woman seated to his right was a well-known institution in the city, but hardly such a frequent sight. Even Brann would have heard of her name, had he taken the time to read any of the public notices nailed up to every post, column, door, and news board in town. "Magholan," she introduced herself easily, inclining her head slightly in what could only be considered a butch method of presentation. She was clearly of tribal origins, though her complete lack of accent and her long-standing reputation as one of the city's more reliable blacksmiths meant that she was most likely born in Sabata.
"These two ninnies have no vision! But I'm sure you can imagine such a thing, Skebihen? After all, you are an artist!" barked the old man, clearly unaware that introductions were being made. He barked to a very massive gentleman seated beside him. Despite his complete ignorance of introductions, the old man passed down the two additional bread bowls without a single thought...without even taking his eyes off his neighbor to catch his response.
"I am...Skebihen the Extraordinaire, finest street musician in Sabata. And this is Dworkin of Lumous, head of the Technological Foundation and...somewhat inattentive," proclaimed the rather prodigious musician as he passed down the two bread bowls at the end of the long, occupied table. The diners had apparently assumed that both Brann and Domino would be joining them at the main table. "I believe we're all locals. Except for Dworkin. I think he's from the moon."
"Who? Who is from the moon? Did you say..." came the old man.
"So, Brann," continued the tall blacksmith, motioning towards Domino. "Will you not tell us the name of your companion? I could swear upon the holy Fas that I've seen her somewhere before."
"Did you mention the moon? Did they say something about the moon?!?"
"I'm Sahle. I usually work at the Crying Dragon, but we've got a deal going with Ulmandra to bring dinner. Have a seat..." intoned the picturesque, bronzed stud at the far end of the table. Indeed, he would have been noticed by Domino in the past, for he was most often seen working his shifts at the Crying Dragon where he routinely served out drinks and food (and perhaps a few broken hearts).
As if in contrast, the towering woman seated to his right was a well-known institution in the city, but hardly such a frequent sight. Even Brann would have heard of her name, had he taken the time to read any of the public notices nailed up to every post, column, door, and news board in town. "Magholan," she introduced herself easily, inclining her head slightly in what could only be considered a butch method of presentation. She was clearly of tribal origins, though her complete lack of accent and her long-standing reputation as one of the city's more reliable blacksmiths meant that she was most likely born in Sabata.
"These two ninnies have no vision! But I'm sure you can imagine such a thing, Skebihen? After all, you are an artist!" barked the old man, clearly unaware that introductions were being made. He barked to a very massive gentleman seated beside him. Despite his complete ignorance of introductions, the old man passed down the two additional bread bowls without a single thought...without even taking his eyes off his neighbor to catch his response.
"I am...Skebihen the Extraordinaire, finest street musician in Sabata. And this is Dworkin of Lumous, head of the Technological Foundation and...somewhat inattentive," proclaimed the rather prodigious musician as he passed down the two bread bowls at the end of the long, occupied table. The diners had apparently assumed that both Brann and Domino would be joining them at the main table. "I believe we're all locals. Except for Dworkin. I think he's from the moon."
"Who? Who is from the moon? Did you say..." came the old man.
"So, Brann," continued the tall blacksmith, motioning towards Domino. "Will you not tell us the name of your companion? I could swear upon the holy Fas that I've seen her somewhere before."
"Did you mention the moon? Did they say something about the moon?!?"
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Guest
Domino smiled at Brann as one accustomed to doing so frequently and easily, and accepted the seat immediately and with aplomb. She was as comfortable around strangers as she was among her oldest friends, more comfortable if truth be told, since she tended not to have any friends one might consider old besides, perhaps, family. And that was dwindling. Still, she considered strangers to be safe - and frequently, they were also business. The confidence of four summers spent hawking wares by appearing to be someone's best friend almost glowed in her sun-freckled skin.
"Aww, sweetie... I promise it doesn't show too badly." Domino responded to Brann's introduction softly and winked at him. You didn't, in truth, see too many adhiel wandering the streets of Sabata, let alone cute ones like this. Of course, for his novelty value he was immediately interesting - not that Domino had never seen an adhiel before, but to find one here was... unlikely, and anything unusual drew her attention like a moth to a flame.
It did not hurt that he was pleasant to look upon, of course.
She did not speak further until the others gathered had made their introductions, busying herself with her food and then, latterly, her hair which chose (as it frequently did) this moment to fall in her face and risk dipping itself in gravy. The blonde seemed to be listening intently, particularly to Dworkin (but not failing to spare the handsome Sahle a brief but flirtateous smile) - and then, introductions over and Brann prompted to speak she gave a short laugh, her infectious grin spreading across her face as if it were always waiting just in the wings.
"Well, Brann might find himself hard pressed to introduce me - sadly, he and I aren't that well acquainted yet! Though perhaps that will change in time... I'm sure you and I have met before, though..." She paused, securing her hair against more escape attempts, and leaned forward on her elbow comfortably, chin in hand, eyes on the blacksmith. "Last time I saw you, perhaps you and I were trading? Copper filings, perhaps? I am surprised you forget!" Domino laughed, not at all insulted. "Domino Cole - and to be fair, I have been out of town for a long while until recently."
She paused for a flicker to eat; in truth, she was most interested right now in whatever it was Dworkin from the moon was so distracted by. From the moon! As if it were possible to fly so high unless one were a dragon! Without hesitation, she voiced her interest (around a mouthful of stew quickly swallowed) in the manner she was accustomed to, overfamiliarity. "Tell me, Dworkin, if you are a looking for a man of vision ought you not to visit the local shaman?" She grinned at him, lightly teasing of course, but seeking to draw him out and speak further.
"Aww, sweetie... I promise it doesn't show too badly." Domino responded to Brann's introduction softly and winked at him. You didn't, in truth, see too many adhiel wandering the streets of Sabata, let alone cute ones like this. Of course, for his novelty value he was immediately interesting - not that Domino had never seen an adhiel before, but to find one here was... unlikely, and anything unusual drew her attention like a moth to a flame.
It did not hurt that he was pleasant to look upon, of course.
She did not speak further until the others gathered had made their introductions, busying herself with her food and then, latterly, her hair which chose (as it frequently did) this moment to fall in her face and risk dipping itself in gravy. The blonde seemed to be listening intently, particularly to Dworkin (but not failing to spare the handsome Sahle a brief but flirtateous smile) - and then, introductions over and Brann prompted to speak she gave a short laugh, her infectious grin spreading across her face as if it were always waiting just in the wings.
"Well, Brann might find himself hard pressed to introduce me - sadly, he and I aren't that well acquainted yet! Though perhaps that will change in time... I'm sure you and I have met before, though..." She paused, securing her hair against more escape attempts, and leaned forward on her elbow comfortably, chin in hand, eyes on the blacksmith. "Last time I saw you, perhaps you and I were trading? Copper filings, perhaps? I am surprised you forget!" Domino laughed, not at all insulted. "Domino Cole - and to be fair, I have been out of town for a long while until recently."
She paused for a flicker to eat; in truth, she was most interested right now in whatever it was Dworkin from the moon was so distracted by. From the moon! As if it were possible to fly so high unless one were a dragon! Without hesitation, she voiced her interest (around a mouthful of stew quickly swallowed) in the manner she was accustomed to, overfamiliarity. "Tell me, Dworkin, if you are a looking for a man of vision ought you not to visit the local shaman?" She grinned at him, lightly teasing of course, but seeking to draw him out and speak further.
The easy smile and subsequent wink warmed Brann, and he grinned back playfully at Domino as they settled into their meals. Despite the distraction of her presence, the achadhiel turned to look at each of the others at the table as they made their introductions, nodding gently as they spoke to confirm they had his attention.
His expression conveyed his interest, but also carried an undercurrent for each diner. For the handsome Sahle a hint of challenge, as though they were two rival predators pursuing the same prey; for Magholan a touch of businesslike appraisal for a possible partner; for Skebihen the appreciation of a potential informant; and for Dworkin the simple joy of humour. The moon, he chuckled to himself.
"I am very pleased to meet you all," he said with a nod to the collective table. "Your hospitality is most gracious."
Brann smirked as Domino stepped in smoothly to reply to Magholan, glad she had left the door open for the two of them and even happier to actually learn her name. A local recently returned to Sabata, he mused as he watched her finish with the blacksmith and then turn her attentions to the inventor Dworkin. The achadhiel had no intention of commandeering the conversation - the best tidbits usually came from simple listening anyway - so after soaking up her profile with his onyx orbs Brann turned to see how Dworkin would react to her little joke.
His expression conveyed his interest, but also carried an undercurrent for each diner. For the handsome Sahle a hint of challenge, as though they were two rival predators pursuing the same prey; for Magholan a touch of businesslike appraisal for a possible partner; for Skebihen the appreciation of a potential informant; and for Dworkin the simple joy of humour. The moon, he chuckled to himself.
"I am very pleased to meet you all," he said with a nod to the collective table. "Your hospitality is most gracious."
Brann smirked as Domino stepped in smoothly to reply to Magholan, glad she had left the door open for the two of them and even happier to actually learn her name. A local recently returned to Sabata, he mused as he watched her finish with the blacksmith and then turn her attentions to the inventor Dworkin. The achadhiel had no intention of commandeering the conversation - the best tidbits usually came from simple listening anyway - so after soaking up her profile with his onyx orbs Brann turned to see how Dworkin would react to her little joke.
"Bah!" scoffed Dworkin, clearly reacting to the material of Domino's jest. "Vision!" He might have commented on his lack of enthusiasm for the People or their precious shamans...and how they've done nothing to make their home more hospitable in modern times. Irrigation...roads...damns...much of the desert's encroaching ergs could be pushed back with minor applications of land management, and it wasn't as if the People hadn't had the time to do so: Only four or five centuries, at best guess.
But Dworkin would say no such thing, because it was well-known that Magholan was at least one generation removed from desert nomad herself. And she might beat him. Hard.
It was the very same lady that rescued Dworkin from his silent floundering when she next spoke. "Domino. Yes, I've no doubt of it...the metal dust. Still, I've seen quite a few new faces in the city recently, what with the war ending. And with the counterfeits coming in, I see lots of local faces, too. Strange, though. Most of the counterfeits come from...local hands. The returning soldiers carry Western or Imperial struck...usually G.W.M. or Dortese."
The meal that Domino and Brann received was, in a word, magnificent...curious, considering it's rather humble presentation. Ultimately, Sabata was the home of most spices used throughout the world...and as such, most of the more exotic seasonings and ingredients could be found as almost common staples here. While Sabatans weren't wealthy by any standard, they did enjoy certain luxuries found nowhere else.
But Dworkin would say no such thing, because it was well-known that Magholan was at least one generation removed from desert nomad herself. And she might beat him. Hard.
It was the very same lady that rescued Dworkin from his silent floundering when she next spoke. "Domino. Yes, I've no doubt of it...the metal dust. Still, I've seen quite a few new faces in the city recently, what with the war ending. And with the counterfeits coming in, I see lots of local faces, too. Strange, though. Most of the counterfeits come from...local hands. The returning soldiers carry Western or Imperial struck...usually G.W.M. or Dortese."
The meal that Domino and Brann received was, in a word, magnificent...curious, considering it's rather humble presentation. Ultimately, Sabata was the home of most spices used throughout the world...and as such, most of the more exotic seasonings and ingredients could be found as almost common staples here. While Sabatans weren't wealthy by any standard, they did enjoy certain luxuries found nowhere else.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
-
Guest
The Sabatan food was familiar to Domino in a way that was instantly reassuring and tasted of home. She was not a particularly fussy eater - unlike her beloved mother, who even eschewed typically Mouthie food and would only eat of things so bland they may as well have had no taste whatsoever. Domino herself found the taste of the spiced goat much like a warm hug from an old friend. It was better than she could have hoped, and she ate it slowly and with pleasure, wanting the feeling of happy familiarity to last.
In answer to Magholan, instantly recognisable as being of the People by her curiously clipped and deliberate way of speaking, Domino licked the sauce from the corner of her mouth and frowned a little. "Counterfeits? This is curious. Counterfeits of... of what? I can't say I have been keeping up with news lately, and I've not heard of this at all. Do you mean coin?"
This would be an odd thing to occur, particularly if the coin were coming from local hands. It would suggest some sort of local business in minting, perhaps - though Domino knew next to nothing about such processes, her knowledge of metals mainly running to how well (or not) they might burn. Sadly, a great many of her alchemical experiments ended in a very similar way.
But if counterfeit coin was in circulation, it might suggest any number of things. New people, new faces... the blonde licked her fingers thoughtfully. New traders? From where? And for what reason? Abruptly, she turned to Brann and nudged him, "Have you heard of this, Brann muffin? You are very cute," She added, bluntly, and grinned, "But you speak far too little."
In answer to Magholan, instantly recognisable as being of the People by her curiously clipped and deliberate way of speaking, Domino licked the sauce from the corner of her mouth and frowned a little. "Counterfeits? This is curious. Counterfeits of... of what? I can't say I have been keeping up with news lately, and I've not heard of this at all. Do you mean coin?"
This would be an odd thing to occur, particularly if the coin were coming from local hands. It would suggest some sort of local business in minting, perhaps - though Domino knew next to nothing about such processes, her knowledge of metals mainly running to how well (or not) they might burn. Sadly, a great many of her alchemical experiments ended in a very similar way.
But if counterfeit coin was in circulation, it might suggest any number of things. New people, new faces... the blonde licked her fingers thoughtfully. New traders? From where? And for what reason? Abruptly, she turned to Brann and nudged him, "Have you heard of this, Brann muffin? You are very cute," She added, bluntly, and grinned, "But you speak far too little."
Magholan's information was curious, and like Domino he too had trouble being certain just what the blacksmith was calling counterfeit. At first he thought it might be a local colloquialism for foreigners, some term he was likely to hear more often the longer he stayed in Sabata, but the last part about Imperial struck turned him around to coin.
Savouring a spicy bite of the roast goat, Brann was not at all ready for Domino's sneak attack, let alone a pet name to boot. Brann muffin? Where did that come from? Luckily the tasty morsel bought him just enough time to recover his wits and find his tongue.
"I was thinking the very same thing as Domino, Magholan," he said, though looking straight at Domino as he spoke. "I am very cute." He smirked and raised one eyebrow at the blond lass, unable to hide his amusement at her forward and familiar manner. "But beyond that," he added, swiveling his onyx gaze to the native blacksmith, "I am sadly ignorant of this issue as well. Now, I might claim that having just arrived I had no way of knowing, but that would just be a waste of breath, and would unnecessarily delay your answer." Brann paused ever so slightly for effect, before proceeding.
"Are you saying some locals are spreading false coin in the city of late?" he asked Magholan, echoing Domino's query. "Perhaps they are hoping to cover their activities with the new influx of refugees and visitors, hoping to shift the blame to those groups? Not all might be as observant as you, after all. Regarding the minting and such."
Under his breath he shot a quick whisper to Domino, while awaiting Magholan's clarification. "At least give me a chance to warm up, sweetness."
Savouring a spicy bite of the roast goat, Brann was not at all ready for Domino's sneak attack, let alone a pet name to boot. Brann muffin? Where did that come from? Luckily the tasty morsel bought him just enough time to recover his wits and find his tongue.
"I was thinking the very same thing as Domino, Magholan," he said, though looking straight at Domino as he spoke. "I am very cute." He smirked and raised one eyebrow at the blond lass, unable to hide his amusement at her forward and familiar manner. "But beyond that," he added, swiveling his onyx gaze to the native blacksmith, "I am sadly ignorant of this issue as well. Now, I might claim that having just arrived I had no way of knowing, but that would just be a waste of breath, and would unnecessarily delay your answer." Brann paused ever so slightly for effect, before proceeding.
"Are you saying some locals are spreading false coin in the city of late?" he asked Magholan, echoing Domino's query. "Perhaps they are hoping to cover their activities with the new influx of refugees and visitors, hoping to shift the blame to those groups? Not all might be as observant as you, after all. Regarding the minting and such."
Under his breath he shot a quick whisper to Domino, while awaiting Magholan's clarification. "At least give me a chance to warm up, sweetness."
"It doesn't look that way to me," replied the blacksmith casually. Leaning back, she reached into her coin purse and dumped it on the table before her. A few circlets...a couple banner...and three instantly unusual coins that didn't look like anything Brann or Domino had ever seen. It was not just the striking...there were several kinds of strike in the world...so much as the metal. These coins glinted a very curious hue of green-yellow, a curious shade that was too bright...too yellow...too alien to be proper gold, silver, or copper.
"Have a look," offered Magholan, flipping one of the coins across the table to land near the pair. It landed with an impure chang!, not quite the clarity of refined silver...but with far more noise than pure gold. "I guess what really strikes me as odd is that the people that bring them to me are...ah...well, usually they're in a very sad condition. Under fed, ill, probably runaway slaves...or very bad thieves. But there have been several in the last couple tides, and they all beg for a banner or two in exchange for the metal by weight. The Council hasn't sanctioned any kind of compensation...that would inspire real counterfeit...but they've unofficially allowed me to dispense a few coin in exchange to those who need it."
Dworkin, Skebihen, and the server were hardly interested in the coin, though they gazed at the alluring metal with the same kind of interest anyone might give something shiny. Dworkin promptly chirped up with another erudition of dubious value. "They must be from the Eastern Empire. There is no other explanation. I have seen amazing things from the Eastern Empire...such as wood that ignites itself on fire, and ice that does not melt."
"That sounds like hogwash. Where did you hear that?" shot back Skebihen.
"I heard it! And if it isn't from the Eastern Empires, then from where could it have come, bard?"
"Well..." Skebihen shrugged and dug into his trencher once more. "Maybe someone struck them for a lark."
The coins themselves were marked in a very unusual way...but the strikes were faint, as if it were poorly marked with a very old striker or the metal was too soft for the striking and the strike didn't take well. There were characters that ringed the edges...a design that both marked the coin as well as to combat clipping...and there were features on the face itself. On one side was an embossed image that couldn't be recognized due to the age...and on the back was the silhouette of a man, though his profile could not be recognized as either Balthazar, Anochrim, or any other popular profile currently in circulation.
"Have a look," offered Magholan, flipping one of the coins across the table to land near the pair. It landed with an impure chang!, not quite the clarity of refined silver...but with far more noise than pure gold. "I guess what really strikes me as odd is that the people that bring them to me are...ah...well, usually they're in a very sad condition. Under fed, ill, probably runaway slaves...or very bad thieves. But there have been several in the last couple tides, and they all beg for a banner or two in exchange for the metal by weight. The Council hasn't sanctioned any kind of compensation...that would inspire real counterfeit...but they've unofficially allowed me to dispense a few coin in exchange to those who need it."
Dworkin, Skebihen, and the server were hardly interested in the coin, though they gazed at the alluring metal with the same kind of interest anyone might give something shiny. Dworkin promptly chirped up with another erudition of dubious value. "They must be from the Eastern Empire. There is no other explanation. I have seen amazing things from the Eastern Empire...such as wood that ignites itself on fire, and ice that does not melt."
"That sounds like hogwash. Where did you hear that?" shot back Skebihen.
"I heard it! And if it isn't from the Eastern Empires, then from where could it have come, bard?"
"Well..." Skebihen shrugged and dug into his trencher once more. "Maybe someone struck them for a lark."
The coins themselves were marked in a very unusual way...but the strikes were faint, as if it were poorly marked with a very old striker or the metal was too soft for the striking and the strike didn't take well. There were characters that ringed the edges...a design that both marked the coin as well as to combat clipping...and there were features on the face itself. On one side was an embossed image that couldn't be recognized due to the age...and on the back was the silhouette of a man, though his profile could not be recognized as either Balthazar, Anochrim, or any other popular profile currently in circulation.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
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Guest
As soon as Magholan tossed the coin in her direction, Domino picked it up and scrutinised it, turning it over between her fingers. After a moment her face relaxed from it's intense, screwed up observation and she turned it over once more, feeling it's weight with that certain pleasure of knowing. The way the light caught it's unusual colour was faintly reassuring. She knew this...
"If it's from the Eastern Empire, Dworkin, what do you expect... that it'll burst into song at any moment?" She teased, rolling the coin over her knuckles and then throwing it up to catch it, a grabbing motion, forward-handed. "It's not from the Eastern Empire. At least, I doubt it very much." Opting not to speak any further for a moment or two, she palmed it, produced it in her right hand between finger and thumb and then appeared to take it into her left had in one smooth movement, while casually finger-palming it. Then she opened her left hand, displaying an empty palm and wiggling her fingers, before giving up on the short and pointless ruse and producing the large, yellow-green coin in her right hand once more and turning it over in her fingers. The weight of it was somehow reassuring.
It's not what it's made of that matters... that much is obvious. Though Magholan is unintentionally ripping off those poor runaway slaves she speaks of, she does not know it. What matters is... where from, and how...?
"It's gold. It's mainly gold." Domino revealed, still turning the coin in her hands playfully, the knowledge of what it was making it little more than a decorative, yellow-green plaything. "Well... around three parts gold to one of silver. Not that it matters... there is no way you can remove the silver from the gold. No way I've ever seen. If there were more silver in it..." She paused, thoughtfully, standing the coin up on end, touching the tip of her finger to it's rim, "...then perhaps, but you would lose the silver. And everything I've heard is only conjecture, and well... very hard to do. As it is... this is a very pointless piece of knowledge. Knowing what it is and understanding what it's for are two completely different things..."
Domino trailed off, looking at the coin thoughtfully. Then she appeared to come to her senses, plucking the thing from it's precarious balance on the tabletop and holding it up, "May I keep this, Magholan? I will pay for it, if you like..."
"If it's from the Eastern Empire, Dworkin, what do you expect... that it'll burst into song at any moment?" She teased, rolling the coin over her knuckles and then throwing it up to catch it, a grabbing motion, forward-handed. "It's not from the Eastern Empire. At least, I doubt it very much." Opting not to speak any further for a moment or two, she palmed it, produced it in her right hand between finger and thumb and then appeared to take it into her left had in one smooth movement, while casually finger-palming it. Then she opened her left hand, displaying an empty palm and wiggling her fingers, before giving up on the short and pointless ruse and producing the large, yellow-green coin in her right hand once more and turning it over in her fingers. The weight of it was somehow reassuring.
It's not what it's made of that matters... that much is obvious. Though Magholan is unintentionally ripping off those poor runaway slaves she speaks of, she does not know it. What matters is... where from, and how...?
"It's gold. It's mainly gold." Domino revealed, still turning the coin in her hands playfully, the knowledge of what it was making it little more than a decorative, yellow-green plaything. "Well... around three parts gold to one of silver. Not that it matters... there is no way you can remove the silver from the gold. No way I've ever seen. If there were more silver in it..." She paused, thoughtfully, standing the coin up on end, touching the tip of her finger to it's rim, "...then perhaps, but you would lose the silver. And everything I've heard is only conjecture, and well... very hard to do. As it is... this is a very pointless piece of knowledge. Knowing what it is and understanding what it's for are two completely different things..."
Domino trailed off, looking at the coin thoughtfully. Then she appeared to come to her senses, plucking the thing from it's precarious balance on the tabletop and holding it up, "May I keep this, Magholan? I will pay for it, if you like..."
The blacksmith shrugged. "Keep it. But don't try to use it for commerce. Well...not as a coin, that is. Naturally, I've saved a few just for the...novelty of the thing," she replied evenly. "I'm familiar with the metal, though I had to speak to a few Guild colleagues to learn about it. It's called electrum, by the more learned, and it is a mixture of gold and silver...and perhaps traces of copper. Pin testing shows it to be closer to half gold content...but like you say, it's hard to tell without better equipment than you'll find in this city."
"The Kazans could separate it!" claimed Dworkin, not about to be out done by anyone in the area of learning. Naturally, he had completely forgotten his previous claim that the coins had to come from the Eastern Empire.
"Oh, I'm sure there's a way," murmured Magholan, again very casually...and it just occurred to Brann that she did do on purpose. She was larking at Dworkin, deliberately drawing him in by bantering about technical knowledge that the so-called Sabata Technical Foundation didn't have. And it worked, too, judging by the sputtering shade of color Dworkin could reach.
"Of course there's a way!"
"How would you do it, Dworkin?"
"Well, I'm no dwarf!"
"Well. Neither am I. But if I had to do it, I'd melt them down...grain the metal...and treat it with a vitriolic. Silver isn't as sturdy as gold for some processes...and I'm sure at least one of these might work..."
"But that's not really the true interest," interrupted Skebihen, clearly intent to bring peace to the table by throwing Dworkin the helping hand he needed. "As the lady suggested, it's the source that seems perplexing. Who would mix gold and silver? Neither the Dortese merchants nor the G.W.M. would respect a coin made as such. So...from where did it come?"
"Well, if you're asking me," replied Magholan (again casually...she seemed to do everything with a sense of casual grace) "they come from the poorest of people straight out of the Rookeries. That's all I know. That, and the Council seems to be concerned that they might be used in place of gold, which is a very real concern given that they are...well...impure, and no one can guarantee their value by metal content."
"The Kazans could separate it!" claimed Dworkin, not about to be out done by anyone in the area of learning. Naturally, he had completely forgotten his previous claim that the coins had to come from the Eastern Empire.
"Oh, I'm sure there's a way," murmured Magholan, again very casually...and it just occurred to Brann that she did do on purpose. She was larking at Dworkin, deliberately drawing him in by bantering about technical knowledge that the so-called Sabata Technical Foundation didn't have. And it worked, too, judging by the sputtering shade of color Dworkin could reach.
"Of course there's a way!"
"How would you do it, Dworkin?"
"Well, I'm no dwarf!"
"Well. Neither am I. But if I had to do it, I'd melt them down...grain the metal...and treat it with a vitriolic. Silver isn't as sturdy as gold for some processes...and I'm sure at least one of these might work..."
"But that's not really the true interest," interrupted Skebihen, clearly intent to bring peace to the table by throwing Dworkin the helping hand he needed. "As the lady suggested, it's the source that seems perplexing. Who would mix gold and silver? Neither the Dortese merchants nor the G.W.M. would respect a coin made as such. So...from where did it come?"
"Well, if you're asking me," replied Magholan (again casually...she seemed to do everything with a sense of casual grace) "they come from the poorest of people straight out of the Rookeries. That's all I know. That, and the Council seems to be concerned that they might be used in place of gold, which is a very real concern given that they are...well...impure, and no one can guarantee their value by metal content."
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Brann watched Domino toy with the odd coin with a look of professional appreciation - not the awe or fascination that would show on the faces of the uninitiated but rather a glance that acknowledged the skill involved with her manipulations. His dark orbs followed the path of the coin, including the disguised directions, until the flaxen-haired lass tired of her sport and spoke of the more interesting properties of the curious metal.
That was what drew Brann's full curiosity, and he sat there with meal temporarily forgotten as first Domino and then Magholan spoke of its true nature. Dworkin and Skebihen' interjections provided the achadhiel time to consider other questions, but in the end he was forced to agree it came down to those already voiced by the others at the table.
"Could it be a remnant from past settlements or city-states?" he asked of the table, his natural curiosity winning out over the potential embarrassment of his lack of local knowledge. "Some sort of ancient cache being unearthed, for example, and now being passed through the city by those who discovered it? The faintness of the symbols on the coin might be caused by age, right?"
"Or perhaps someone trying to get rid of other treasures they couldn't otherwise unload? Melt down the raw goods and form coins from the resultant metals? Why else would you purposely mix silver and gold, after all?"
Brann bit his lip a moment, and then shrugged mentally. He'd already announced he was new here, so why not expose all his naivety? "And what about those passing on the coins? Have you heard anything of this before tonight, Skebihen?" he asked the big street musician. "Have you or any of your cronies had to deal with these coins as payment for your recent performances?"
"Or do these 'Rookeries' of which Magholan speaks not cover an area in which the street musicians of Sabata perform?" Brann looked from face to face around the table. "The Rookeries are a part of Sabata, right? A slum perhaps?"
That was what drew Brann's full curiosity, and he sat there with meal temporarily forgotten as first Domino and then Magholan spoke of its true nature. Dworkin and Skebihen' interjections provided the achadhiel time to consider other questions, but in the end he was forced to agree it came down to those already voiced by the others at the table.
"Could it be a remnant from past settlements or city-states?" he asked of the table, his natural curiosity winning out over the potential embarrassment of his lack of local knowledge. "Some sort of ancient cache being unearthed, for example, and now being passed through the city by those who discovered it? The faintness of the symbols on the coin might be caused by age, right?"
"Or perhaps someone trying to get rid of other treasures they couldn't otherwise unload? Melt down the raw goods and form coins from the resultant metals? Why else would you purposely mix silver and gold, after all?"
Brann bit his lip a moment, and then shrugged mentally. He'd already announced he was new here, so why not expose all his naivety? "And what about those passing on the coins? Have you heard anything of this before tonight, Skebihen?" he asked the big street musician. "Have you or any of your cronies had to deal with these coins as payment for your recent performances?"
"Or do these 'Rookeries' of which Magholan speaks not cover an area in which the street musicians of Sabata perform?" Brann looked from face to face around the table. "The Rookeries are a part of Sabata, right? A slum perhaps?"
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Guest
Domino considered their words thoughtfully, two very obvious facts coming to mind, though she was uncertain whether to speak either of them out loud. It might not be prudent to speak every little thing that came into one's mind, after all. For instance, she had not yet told bronzed Sahle her fleeting thought that his clothes would look very much better on the floor than on him.
Electrum is not mixed by human hand at all, but by the hands of the very earth itself from which it comes. All that I have read suggests it is dug up existing in this way, a mixture of two things... and since this has appeared recently, it suggests a mine. A recent mine. Which leads me to conclude... this is local...
She took another bite of her stew, and nodded at Brann's suggest in a docile, cheerfully compliant manner. "The Rookeries would seem like a place to begin, then. If you are keen to find the source of this, as I am?" The blonde did not mention the origin of her own curiousity, and that was simply that anything as unusual as electrum should be investigated simply for curiousity's sake. An alchemist she was, at the heart of it all - and as curious as the fabled cat.
...more to the point, if it is local, then it suggests an excellent reason why these coins are being minted. It is a clever way to move metal, by pretending it is worthless... when indeed, all things collected in one place, it might be possible - even profitable - to seperate to baser metals from the gold and have oneself a fortune. If the Council decides to bring all these coins in as counterfeit, then we have our culprit... or at least, his stooge.
This second thought merely calculations of curiousity, since Domino was only passingly interested in the motivations of those who mined the stuff, and why they might be minting obviously fake coinage to circulate it. However, if the owner of this particular plan could be discovered, then his methods might be as well...
And they say of the Philosopher's Stone, that it can turn any base metal into purest gold. Hmm... Perhaps.... perhaps this is a failed experiment? Or perhaps the method to seperate the gold from the silver - if such a thing is truly possible at all - it could be a... a starting point for further investigation, let's say. Yes, I believe it would be very interesting.
Finishing her meal and her thoughts at approximately the same time, Domino stood and bade her polite goodbyes to all present, last of all turning to Brann and grinning. "Care to accompany me, good lookin'? I am sure I will need a big strong man to protect me, if we go to the Rookeries..." She could not help but tease him.
Electrum is not mixed by human hand at all, but by the hands of the very earth itself from which it comes. All that I have read suggests it is dug up existing in this way, a mixture of two things... and since this has appeared recently, it suggests a mine. A recent mine. Which leads me to conclude... this is local...
She took another bite of her stew, and nodded at Brann's suggest in a docile, cheerfully compliant manner. "The Rookeries would seem like a place to begin, then. If you are keen to find the source of this, as I am?" The blonde did not mention the origin of her own curiousity, and that was simply that anything as unusual as electrum should be investigated simply for curiousity's sake. An alchemist she was, at the heart of it all - and as curious as the fabled cat.
...more to the point, if it is local, then it suggests an excellent reason why these coins are being minted. It is a clever way to move metal, by pretending it is worthless... when indeed, all things collected in one place, it might be possible - even profitable - to seperate to baser metals from the gold and have oneself a fortune. If the Council decides to bring all these coins in as counterfeit, then we have our culprit... or at least, his stooge.
This second thought merely calculations of curiousity, since Domino was only passingly interested in the motivations of those who mined the stuff, and why they might be minting obviously fake coinage to circulate it. However, if the owner of this particular plan could be discovered, then his methods might be as well...
And they say of the Philosopher's Stone, that it can turn any base metal into purest gold. Hmm... Perhaps.... perhaps this is a failed experiment? Or perhaps the method to seperate the gold from the silver - if such a thing is truly possible at all - it could be a... a starting point for further investigation, let's say. Yes, I believe it would be very interesting.
Finishing her meal and her thoughts at approximately the same time, Domino stood and bade her polite goodbyes to all present, last of all turning to Brann and grinning. "Care to accompany me, good lookin'? I am sure I will need a big strong man to protect me, if we go to the Rookeries..." She could not help but tease him.
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Lir Calysta Markby
- Civus
- Posts: 226
- Joined: Sun May 07, 2006 1:32 am
Lir had found her way back to the inn, her stomach growling from the lack of attention. As she headed into the common room, she noticed Brann and several others had gathered around with food and conversation. The achadhiel seemed to be in good spirits and it seemed that a woman was inviting him to somewhere called the Rookeries.
The man wastes no time it seems. The healer thought to herself and headed towards the table to see what she could eat.
"Good eveningtide." Lir said in greeting towards the group and her violet gaze rested on Brann, "You seem to be in a better state than when I left you." Then her eye roamed over towards the bandage checking for any leaking and observing to see if it needed to be changed before he left with the woman that called him good lookin'.
A polite acknowledgement was given to the lady that had just addressed Brann and she awaited some sort of introduction.
The man wastes no time it seems. The healer thought to herself and headed towards the table to see what she could eat.
"Good eveningtide." Lir said in greeting towards the group and her violet gaze rested on Brann, "You seem to be in a better state than when I left you." Then her eye roamed over towards the bandage checking for any leaking and observing to see if it needed to be changed before he left with the woman that called him good lookin'.
A polite acknowledgement was given to the lady that had just addressed Brann and she awaited some sort of introduction.
Beautiful avatar by [url=http://nairohe.deviantart.com/]Nairohe![/url] ^_^
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Guest
Domino smiled at the newcomer broadly, taking in her sharp, violet eye and the eyepatch that covered the other with interest. Apparently, the blonde was more than a little amused. "Ah, I'm sorry. I had no idea I was moving in on... occupied territory..." She breathed, instantly apologetic but apparently not too disappointed, and offered Lir a charming smile. The propreitary manner in which this woman looked over Brann indicated her claim on him all too clearly, in Domino's eyes.
"No matter. Perhaps you will catch me up later, honey...? If your lady allows you out..." She grinned, and patted Brann on the cheek in a very overfamiliar, patronising way that was designed only to infuriate his missus. Then, as casually as she had arrived, she collected her things and, with a backwards wave but without a look, opted to leave alone.
The Rookeries were passingly familiar territory to the blonde Sabatan girl, anyway. It wasn't as though she had really needed a big strong man present... she'd been looking more for the decorative effect he might have on otherwise fairly squalid surroundings. It wasn't as though he had talked enough to really be useful as good conversation - not that that was always a bad thing. Pity, really...
She thought on this tragedy for all of a flicker or two, before her attention turned back to her goal in mind - and the coin in her hand. By the time she had reached the end of the street, Brann and his pretty dark eyes had been all but forgotten.
"No matter. Perhaps you will catch me up later, honey...? If your lady allows you out..." She grinned, and patted Brann on the cheek in a very overfamiliar, patronising way that was designed only to infuriate his missus. Then, as casually as she had arrived, she collected her things and, with a backwards wave but without a look, opted to leave alone.
The Rookeries were passingly familiar territory to the blonde Sabatan girl, anyway. It wasn't as though she had really needed a big strong man present... she'd been looking more for the decorative effect he might have on otherwise fairly squalid surroundings. It wasn't as though he had talked enough to really be useful as good conversation - not that that was always a bad thing. Pity, really...
She thought on this tragedy for all of a flicker or two, before her attention turned back to her goal in mind - and the coin in her hand. By the time she had reached the end of the street, Brann and his pretty dark eyes had been all but forgotten.
It was as though a whirlwind swept him up and spun him around, leaving him helpless while the world continued forward in his absence. One flicker Brann was waiting politely for Skebihen's answer to his question about the coins and whether he and his kind performed in the Rookeries (wherever that was) and the next Lir had appeared, some silent female jousting had occurred, and Domino was disappearing out the door. And still not a word out of the street musician! Perhaps he was caught in the same dust devil, Brann surmised.
"I'm afraid my injury would leave me as little use to you, Domino," he apologized with a rueful smile, holding up his bandaged left arm. "I'm more likely to head upstairs for more rest than to go flitting about the roosts of Sabata. At least this night."
The performance the blond Sabatan put on for Lir's behalf drew a scowl from Brann, and his dark brows lowered over onyx eyes. 'Brann muffin' had been bad enough, but this? It was plain condescending, is what it was. Still, he was new in the city and did not want to alienate the few acquaintances he had made so far. "Fare well, and mind the shadows," he said brusquely as Domino slipped away, hoping it was civil enough.
"Good eveningtide, Lir," he said, finally able to turn his attention to the healer. "Yes, somewhat better, hungry at least," he smirked, showing off his bandages for her inspection. While she was briefly occupied with that, Brann swivelled his head to engage the rest of his dinner companions.
"Everyone, this is Lir the healer," he said by way of introduction. "She's the one who so kindly wrapped up my arm earlier today, and as you can see, continues to see me as her charge."
"Lir, this is Magholan, Sahle, Dworkin and Skebihen," he said, naming off those at the table and indicating with an open palm each as he named them. "Magholan is a blacksmith, and was just telling us of some strange coins that have appeared in Sabata recently. Electrum, she's named it, a mix of silver and gold."
"And Skebihen was just about to tell me whether he'd encountered any of this interesting currency as part of his daily enterprise. He's a musician!"
Brann winked at the big man and then, popping another morsel of the lamb into his mouth and savouring the flavourful spices yet again, glanced back at Lir to see how she was making out with his bandages.
"I'm afraid my injury would leave me as little use to you, Domino," he apologized with a rueful smile, holding up his bandaged left arm. "I'm more likely to head upstairs for more rest than to go flitting about the roosts of Sabata. At least this night."
The performance the blond Sabatan put on for Lir's behalf drew a scowl from Brann, and his dark brows lowered over onyx eyes. 'Brann muffin' had been bad enough, but this? It was plain condescending, is what it was. Still, he was new in the city and did not want to alienate the few acquaintances he had made so far. "Fare well, and mind the shadows," he said brusquely as Domino slipped away, hoping it was civil enough.
"Good eveningtide, Lir," he said, finally able to turn his attention to the healer. "Yes, somewhat better, hungry at least," he smirked, showing off his bandages for her inspection. While she was briefly occupied with that, Brann swivelled his head to engage the rest of his dinner companions.
"Everyone, this is Lir the healer," he said by way of introduction. "She's the one who so kindly wrapped up my arm earlier today, and as you can see, continues to see me as her charge."
"Lir, this is Magholan, Sahle, Dworkin and Skebihen," he said, naming off those at the table and indicating with an open palm each as he named them. "Magholan is a blacksmith, and was just telling us of some strange coins that have appeared in Sabata recently. Electrum, she's named it, a mix of silver and gold."
"And Skebihen was just about to tell me whether he'd encountered any of this interesting currency as part of his daily enterprise. He's a musician!"
Brann winked at the big man and then, popping another morsel of the lamb into his mouth and savouring the flavourful spices yet again, glanced back at Lir to see how she was making out with his bandages.
"Perhaps I was about disappoint you, I'm afraid," added Skebihen, his massive arms...it was strange to consider the massive man an artist...splayed out briefly to demonstrate his ignorance. "I've never seen or heard of the coins among my trade. And I suspect I would have heard of it if any performer happened across one. The guilds are very strong here in Sabata, and mine is...well, perhaps not as strong as most, but it is quite the close community."
"But that can come as no surprise. Few performers go to the Rookeries to work the streets. Even if they could find a real street in the Rookeries to work...one as wide as me at least...the people there have more pressing expenses than amusement. And frankly, the children...the urchins...are like the desert hyena. They will rob you blind if you give them half a chance," he smiled, clearly not entirely concerned or reproachful of the opportunistic youths.
"You can find a few distractions in the Rookeries," continued the server, the bronzed, picturesque Sahle. "Opium dens, brothels, the like...but it is a dangerous place to go in the best of times. The Rookeries are the two smallest domes on the Southwest side of the city. You'll know them when you see them."
"They live like ants there. They climb, drop, and move in such close quarters as to be line a prodigious colony of ants, do they not?" came Dworkin's observation...and one that actually did not involve great flights of fancy given that the others at the table nodded in agreement.
"But that can come as no surprise. Few performers go to the Rookeries to work the streets. Even if they could find a real street in the Rookeries to work...one as wide as me at least...the people there have more pressing expenses than amusement. And frankly, the children...the urchins...are like the desert hyena. They will rob you blind if you give them half a chance," he smiled, clearly not entirely concerned or reproachful of the opportunistic youths.
"You can find a few distractions in the Rookeries," continued the server, the bronzed, picturesque Sahle. "Opium dens, brothels, the like...but it is a dangerous place to go in the best of times. The Rookeries are the two smallest domes on the Southwest side of the city. You'll know them when you see them."
"They live like ants there. They climb, drop, and move in such close quarters as to be line a prodigious colony of ants, do they not?" came Dworkin's observation...and one that actually did not involve great flights of fancy given that the others at the table nodded in agreement.
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Brann nodded thoughtfully while first Skebihen and then Sahle answered his question. It seemed the coins were only being handed out in the Rookeries, and Magholan's connection was simply because one of the downtrodden had escaped the confines of the multi-layered slum and managed to exchange the bogus metal for true coin of the realm.
"Every city has one," the achadhiel observed with a nod, "though perhaps not one so similar to a colony of insects." Brann wrinkled his nose in distaste at the notion, hoping it wouldn't distract him when he did manage to visit the Rookeries. For he knew he'd find his way there at some point - a person in his line of business always did, eventually.
"Who is the queen there, then? In the warrens?" he asked, dark eyes suddenly sharp and curious. "And for that matter, who runs the city at large? Do you have a mayor of some sort? A council? Obviously guilds are present, and strong, so you say," Brann added, tilting his head to both Magholan and Skebihen. "Who holds the reins to all of that?"
"Every city has one," the achadhiel observed with a nod, "though perhaps not one so similar to a colony of insects." Brann wrinkled his nose in distaste at the notion, hoping it wouldn't distract him when he did manage to visit the Rookeries. For he knew he'd find his way there at some point - a person in his line of business always did, eventually.
"Who is the queen there, then? In the warrens?" he asked, dark eyes suddenly sharp and curious. "And for that matter, who runs the city at large? Do you have a mayor of some sort? A council? Obviously guilds are present, and strong, so you say," Brann added, tilting his head to both Magholan and Skebihen. "Who holds the reins to all of that?"
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Lir Calysta Markby
- Civus
- Posts: 226
- Joined: Sun May 07, 2006 1:32 am
The ship healer let Domino draw her own conclusions about her ties with Brann. There was no correction interjected as the exchange was noted that the stranger believed Brann belonged to Lir. The playful Domino teased the achadhiel trying to get under Lir's skin with her display of affection for the injuried man but Lir's expression could not be read. Of course, Lir managed to keep the twinkle of mischief from her eye and a smirk from slipping forward as the blond Sabatan decided to leave their company. Somewhere called the Rookeries. Lir recalled hearing the tail end of the invitation to Brann before greeting the group.
Lir listened to Brann's rejection to the one named Domino's invitation and noted the look that he gave the woman as they both watched her disappear.
"Hunger is a good sign." Lir murmured and memorised names to faces as Brann explained the relationship between them. "Good eveningtide." She said once more towards the people at the table. A blacksmith, and a musician. The tidbit of strange coins did cause a slight pause but let Brann make his own inquiries as she did not seem to find anything outwardly wrong. She smelt the injury in case there was infection but decided it was not the best time to unwrap the bandages while they ate. "It looks good, but I may need to further examine it a bit later tonight...for now, food is on my mind." She interjected during a silent moment.
The mention of the Rookeries was absorbed as well as the pickpocketing urchins who stole for a living. I wonder how dangerous the place is for a lone woman to go meandering about at night. Hope this Domino can take care of herself...
Then it seemed that Brann had a like mind for gathering information as he asked about any authority figures. Perhaps he would be interested of what she had learned if he had not found out for himself already. Instead of barging into the conversation midway, she looked for the method of acquiring some food.
Lir listened to Brann's rejection to the one named Domino's invitation and noted the look that he gave the woman as they both watched her disappear.
"Hunger is a good sign." Lir murmured and memorised names to faces as Brann explained the relationship between them. "Good eveningtide." She said once more towards the people at the table. A blacksmith, and a musician. The tidbit of strange coins did cause a slight pause but let Brann make his own inquiries as she did not seem to find anything outwardly wrong. She smelt the injury in case there was infection but decided it was not the best time to unwrap the bandages while they ate. "It looks good, but I may need to further examine it a bit later tonight...for now, food is on my mind." She interjected during a silent moment.
The mention of the Rookeries was absorbed as well as the pickpocketing urchins who stole for a living. I wonder how dangerous the place is for a lone woman to go meandering about at night. Hope this Domino can take care of herself...
Then it seemed that Brann had a like mind for gathering information as he asked about any authority figures. Perhaps he would be interested of what she had learned if he had not found out for himself already. Instead of barging into the conversation midway, she looked for the method of acquiring some food.
Beautiful avatar by [url=http://nairohe.deviantart.com/]Nairohe![/url] ^_^
A trencher of the steaming dinner was passed towards Lir casually as Skebihen offered what he knew...which would be the most concerning city affairs, considering his rather particular trade. "Indeed, the city's businesses are governed by the guilds, though one might say they are self governed. The real power lies in the Council. You see...taxation and duties are paid to the city coffers, and it is the Council that spends this wealth, as well as the nominal administration of justice and the oversight of disputes."
"There are seven Council Seats, headed by Councilor Ramessu...the first Councilor. He is a local man, and while some describe him as a very just and capable man, others describe him as a tyrant. Either way, he keeps the peace in Sabata...and as you can see, the city prospers, even amid the rising number of immigrants we have seen over the winter. The other Councilors are Akanke, Florez, Bock, Moetzl, and...there's another one...the newer one...Di Zio?"
"Ramessu approved the new dome, did he not?" Dworkin asked, as though he didn't actually know for certain.
"Indeed, he did, though it is funded by the city treasury...and the Council has never, in the history of Sabata, declined building new domes. It is simply a matter of when. I suppose this is why the guild system is so important as well as the City Council. You cannot manage immigration so easily when all souls live under the domes. Sabata must grow very carefully, and according to Council design. Should she grow too fast, the domes would overcrowd. Should she grow too slow, the domes would bankrupt us."
"Yes, this is why the guilds are so important here," added Magholan. "Aside from collecting revenues for the city, the guilds control the number of craftsmen in the city...and only allow new franchise when the city is ready for the growth. For example, when the new dome opens, the Guild of Smiths will review the city's need to decide whether a new Smithy is needed. If we add smiths too quickly, the price of our efforts will drop. If we add them too late, the price will rise and metal goods will become scarce for inhabitants. Some of these shifts can be mitigated through foreign trade, but it is never wise to allow your local economy to become dependent upon such things."
"Even the Bakers have their own guild," intoned Sahle. "One that manages hostels, inns, and of course, bakeries. The Council expects us to control the number of hostels in the city, for if they remain largely empty, precious space under the domes will be lost. For this reason, the Guild keeps strict control over the number of Inn Franchise available...and it grants franchise very rarely."
"There are seven Council Seats, headed by Councilor Ramessu...the first Councilor. He is a local man, and while some describe him as a very just and capable man, others describe him as a tyrant. Either way, he keeps the peace in Sabata...and as you can see, the city prospers, even amid the rising number of immigrants we have seen over the winter. The other Councilors are Akanke, Florez, Bock, Moetzl, and...there's another one...the newer one...Di Zio?"
"Ramessu approved the new dome, did he not?" Dworkin asked, as though he didn't actually know for certain.
"Indeed, he did, though it is funded by the city treasury...and the Council has never, in the history of Sabata, declined building new domes. It is simply a matter of when. I suppose this is why the guild system is so important as well as the City Council. You cannot manage immigration so easily when all souls live under the domes. Sabata must grow very carefully, and according to Council design. Should she grow too fast, the domes would overcrowd. Should she grow too slow, the domes would bankrupt us."
"Yes, this is why the guilds are so important here," added Magholan. "Aside from collecting revenues for the city, the guilds control the number of craftsmen in the city...and only allow new franchise when the city is ready for the growth. For example, when the new dome opens, the Guild of Smiths will review the city's need to decide whether a new Smithy is needed. If we add smiths too quickly, the price of our efforts will drop. If we add them too late, the price will rise and metal goods will become scarce for inhabitants. Some of these shifts can be mitigated through foreign trade, but it is never wise to allow your local economy to become dependent upon such things."
"Even the Bakers have their own guild," intoned Sahle. "One that manages hostels, inns, and of course, bakeries. The Council expects us to control the number of hostels in the city, for if they remain largely empty, precious space under the domes will be lost. For this reason, the Guild keeps strict control over the number of Inn Franchise available...and it grants franchise very rarely."
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
And the rich get richer and the poor dance to their rules, thought Brann as the system of guilds was described by Skebihen and the others. A grand system if one happened to be near the top and in control, but a stone wall as impregnable as the Citadel itself to one trying to break into the game. Or perhaps as impregnable as the bright sands of the desert, he corrected himself. After all, he was in Sabata now.
But even the walls around the island capital had cracks, and was not sand but one grain of stone aside another? Besides, ravens flew, they did not slither. There would be ways, if he could but find them. There were always ways.
Brann noted the names of the councilors as best he could, figuring there was one way into things. Seven seats Skebihen had said, and with a First Councilor at the head. That meant six others who wanted his place, and one who very much wanted the exact opposite. Approaching Ramessu, the leader, would likely be a waste of time. A man like that already had help. And the bottom of the order was also a waste, for who could wait that long to gain favour? No, somewhere in the middle would be best, the third, fourth or possibly even fifth councilors. That was where something could be done, Brann suspected. Something to be followed up on, but later.
"I noticed you only mentioned the elected or appointed leaders," the achadhiel smirked once he had digested the information, along with another delicious morsel of spiced goat. "This is really very, very good. Is the food always so spicy?" he digressed, before washing it down with a gulp from his cup. "But as I was saying, you've spoken of the public rulers of the city. What of those others who hold sway? Those who a newcomer should be wary of, lest he cross an unwritten line that ought not to be crossed?"
"For example, who is the queen of the hive in the Rookeries? And who does she bow down before?" Brann smiled at his fellow diners, gesturing at his nearly empty plate. "I'd hate to waste such a good meal with one misstep, all for a lack of curiosity around the dinner table!"
But even the walls around the island capital had cracks, and was not sand but one grain of stone aside another? Besides, ravens flew, they did not slither. There would be ways, if he could but find them. There were always ways.
Brann noted the names of the councilors as best he could, figuring there was one way into things. Seven seats Skebihen had said, and with a First Councilor at the head. That meant six others who wanted his place, and one who very much wanted the exact opposite. Approaching Ramessu, the leader, would likely be a waste of time. A man like that already had help. And the bottom of the order was also a waste, for who could wait that long to gain favour? No, somewhere in the middle would be best, the third, fourth or possibly even fifth councilors. That was where something could be done, Brann suspected. Something to be followed up on, but later.
"I noticed you only mentioned the elected or appointed leaders," the achadhiel smirked once he had digested the information, along with another delicious morsel of spiced goat. "This is really very, very good. Is the food always so spicy?" he digressed, before washing it down with a gulp from his cup. "But as I was saying, you've spoken of the public rulers of the city. What of those others who hold sway? Those who a newcomer should be wary of, lest he cross an unwritten line that ought not to be crossed?"
"For example, who is the queen of the hive in the Rookeries? And who does she bow down before?" Brann smiled at his fellow diners, gesturing at his nearly empty plate. "I'd hate to waste such a good meal with one misstep, all for a lack of curiosity around the dinner table!"
"A curious question...and one I can't easily answer," replied Skebihen easily, contrary to his words. "I don't know of any. Beyond the City Council...and each of the guilds...there really isn't any other authority. Well...unless you count Boss Harkhebi, but he works for the Council, as I understand it. He maintains a pretty strong grip on local affairs, combined with the guilds."
It wasn't lost on the massive bard exactly what Brann was asking...but he had to tread lightly. Sure, there were a few illegal craftsmen and traders in the city...but he wasn't about to mention them in front of Magholan. He knew the woman to be a Master craftswoman in the Guild of Smiths...and it was possible that she might even by the Grand Master as well, though he couldn't be certain of it. If she learned of any illicit craftsmen...or the Guild of Thieves...she might take action, unlikely though it might be. Still, the Guild did exist...but the bard knew precious little about them, and they held little real notice or power in the city.
"You could always ask, though the Rookeries might not be the best place. Like any city, if you want to find thieves...you go to where the money is, Hahahaha!"
It wasn't lost on the massive bard exactly what Brann was asking...but he had to tread lightly. Sure, there were a few illegal craftsmen and traders in the city...but he wasn't about to mention them in front of Magholan. He knew the woman to be a Master craftswoman in the Guild of Smiths...and it was possible that she might even by the Grand Master as well, though he couldn't be certain of it. If she learned of any illicit craftsmen...or the Guild of Thieves...she might take action, unlikely though it might be. Still, the Guild did exist...but the bard knew precious little about them, and they held little real notice or power in the city.
"You could always ask, though the Rookeries might not be the best place. Like any city, if you want to find thieves...you go to where the money is, Hahahaha!"
Maeve: It starts with ambition
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
Meridiuz: It ends with Grant
"I was more worried about them finding me, than the other way around" laughed Brann in unison with the big entertainer. Clearly there was more to the man's answer than the words themselves, but Brann was not sure he would be able to draw any more out of Skebihen just then. Choosing prudence, the achadhiel merely shrugged as he thanked his dinner companion. "I did not mean to delve beyond my place, and do appreciate all the information you've offered," he said, including Magholan, Sahle and Dworkin in his response as well.
Brann fell to finishing his dinner at that point, content to let the conversation meander where it might. He kept his ears open though, for you never knew what might pop up.
Brann fell to finishing his dinner at that point, content to let the conversation meander where it might. He kept his ears open though, for you never knew what might pop up.