"Ahaah," the soldier grunted, rather unsure as to how to answer this question - or rather, statement. Trying to buy time, he removed the heavy backpack from his leg.
"I certainly wouldn't object ter that, miss - eh - Lamana." The soldier's lips curved in a mischievous grin, and his eyebrows jumped up at the sight of the pinching, However, he chose to ignore it, even though somewhere inside him, the strings of his upbringing tensed. "I don't think I could explain it ter me ole' wife, though. An inn is a better idea - there's The Scandalous Seamonster, yet if you've got a decent way of living, I wouldn't recommend it. Lotsa bad folk around there. The other tavern is called The Drunken Duck - 'tis a proper staying place, yes, yes..."
"You seem in a hurry," the undeterred guard grinned, exposing yellowing teeth. "Now that I know your name, I'd like ter know what you're up to. What will you do once inside Dort?"
Entrance Thread: The Golden Gates
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Guest
"Perhaps I could explain it her. I am quite able with many things," the pain in the stomach had suddenly dematerialized. It was a relief to stand upright, and Lamana straightened the back and surveyed the situation. A couple of waiting commoners were starting to get impatient with the conversation. Lamana knew immediately when she look upon their beaten faces and rugged clothing. Absurdly she experienced another and different prickle. The impeccable girl bowed her head to control herself and re-won it. She wrested it back.
"I will tell her. She woun't mind. I am sure. And if there be a problem we can always *share* you," she batted her lashes and moved perhaps even closer to him. She inched closer and closer until he could value her warm breath on his neck. He shivered slightly, and Lamana knew from then on that he was bent to her will.
She knelt down to tie her shoe and said to him in a commanding voice. "Let us go then. I am sure your subordinate can take care of these low-lives," Lamana gestured towards the cluster of men and women which had formed behind them.
"Now we go!!!" She began to move forward at a slow pace. The virginal outsider wanted her sheep to follow its shepherd meekly so she floated forward on the cold breeze. Only once did she turn around to confirm to herself that the soldier really did follow her and had brought her back-pack as well.
"I will tell her. She woun't mind. I am sure. And if there be a problem we can always *share* you," she batted her lashes and moved perhaps even closer to him. She inched closer and closer until he could value her warm breath on his neck. He shivered slightly, and Lamana knew from then on that he was bent to her will.
She knelt down to tie her shoe and said to him in a commanding voice. "Let us go then. I am sure your subordinate can take care of these low-lives," Lamana gestured towards the cluster of men and women which had formed behind them.
"Now we go!!!" She began to move forward at a slow pace. The virginal outsider wanted her sheep to follow its shepherd meekly so she floated forward on the cold breeze. Only once did she turn around to confirm to herself that the soldier really did follow her and had brought her back-pack as well.
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Ranhild Pheldroppe
With a tired sigh, the elderly soldier gave up the fight. He could see Lamana wasn't to be discouraged from her odd request. Yet then again, why couldn't she lodge with him and CaitilÃn? She was just a young girl, after all, probably out on her own for the first time in her life. She looked like a friendly creature - perhaps even too friendly, but the guard found that amusing. He was sure his wife would like her as well.
With a glance at the sun, he discovered with some pleasure that his morning guard-duty was over for the day. It was the first mark of tradetide, confirmed both by the position of the blinding yellow orb in the sky and the quiet rumbling of his stomach. He ripped the paper he was holding into two parts, one containing Lamana's name, the other Aurael's.
"Tend ter the Adhiel," he told his co-guard. "I'm off ter lunch."
Picking up Lamana's backpack, he started to follow her. He glanced down at the paper to reassure himself he had got her name correct, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Not so fast!" the guard yelled at his new tenant. "I still need ter know why you've come ter Dort."
"Not that I'd have ter poke me nose into your business," he added as an afterthought, sounding almost apologetic. "I just need to enter it into the book. The officers like ter know how many foreigners are moving around their town. You know, makes things easier."
With a glance at the sun, he discovered with some pleasure that his morning guard-duty was over for the day. It was the first mark of tradetide, confirmed both by the position of the blinding yellow orb in the sky and the quiet rumbling of his stomach. He ripped the paper he was holding into two parts, one containing Lamana's name, the other Aurael's.
"Tend ter the Adhiel," he told his co-guard. "I'm off ter lunch."
Picking up Lamana's backpack, he started to follow her. He glanced down at the paper to reassure himself he had got her name correct, and stopped dead in his tracks.
"Not so fast!" the guard yelled at his new tenant. "I still need ter know why you've come ter Dort."
"Not that I'd have ter poke me nose into your business," he added as an afterthought, sounding almost apologetic. "I just need to enter it into the book. The officers like ter know how many foreigners are moving around their town. You know, makes things easier."
-
Guest
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Ranhild Pheldroppe
The second guard, younger by his looks, was chewing a straw. He spat it out and looked at the Aurael in a very displeased way.
"Why, aren't we an impatient one," he muttered to himself and copied the Adhiel's name carefully into a large, leather-bound book chained to a niche in the battlement. "Your name's Aurael then, and you're looking for adventure..."
Perhaps the guard was simplifying things down, but he too was getting impatient. A long queue of travellers had formed behind the elf and they were muttering angrily to each other. With a long face, the guard plopped wax on Aurael's admission document and rammed the Seal of Dort onto it. He handed the copy to the Adhiel and directed him through the gates with a tired sweep of his arm.
"Welcome to Dort, sir."
"Why, aren't we an impatient one," he muttered to himself and copied the Adhiel's name carefully into a large, leather-bound book chained to a niche in the battlement. "Your name's Aurael then, and you're looking for adventure..."
Perhaps the guard was simplifying things down, but he too was getting impatient. A long queue of travellers had formed behind the elf and they were muttering angrily to each other. With a long face, the guard plopped wax on Aurael's admission document and rammed the Seal of Dort onto it. He handed the copy to the Adhiel and directed him through the gates with a tired sweep of his arm.
"Welcome to Dort, sir."
Last edited by Ranhild Pheldroppe on Thu Nov 10, 2005 10:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Guest
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Ranhild Pheldroppe
The soldier was already tending to another newcomer and thus appeared quite startled at realizing Aurael hadn't disappeared yet. He looked around at the Adhiel and scratched his beard, quill in one hand.
"There's The Drunken Duck," he said haughtily, but then seemed to remember something. It's mostly for proper folk 'n traders, though. Now, if you want [i]real adventure," he gave Aurael a wink, "You'd better start at The Scandalous Seamonster. Just continue down the main lane and turn off to the right as soon as you see the harbour."
Before he turned back to the next person in line, the young soldier whispered final words of advice:
"Watch 'yer wallet - and good luck!"
OOC: Please continue <a href="https://tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?t=10870">here</a>.
"There's The Drunken Duck," he said haughtily, but then seemed to remember something. It's mostly for proper folk 'n traders, though. Now, if you want [i]real adventure," he gave Aurael a wink, "You'd better start at The Scandalous Seamonster. Just continue down the main lane and turn off to the right as soon as you see the harbour."
Before he turned back to the next person in line, the young soldier whispered final words of advice:
"Watch 'yer wallet - and good luck!"
OOC: Please continue <a href="https://tazlure.nl/board/viewtopic.php?t=10870">here</a>.
Greetings Mattheys! Welcome to Tazlure!
The thread being claimed by the modding seminar means that we are switching who monitors and mods the entrance thread. This is to notify the former mod, in this case Ranhild, that the new mod, in this case me, is taking over the thread and that she doesn't have to monitor the thread anymore.
To make a long story short, it's a changing of the guard. You will still need to post your entrance into the city in this thread and we'll get you started from there!
If you have any questions, feel free to PM or IM me!
V
The thread being claimed by the modding seminar means that we are switching who monitors and mods the entrance thread. This is to notify the former mod, in this case Ranhild, that the new mod, in this case me, is taking over the thread and that she doesn't have to monitor the thread anymore.
To make a long story short, it's a changing of the guard. You will still need to post your entrance into the city in this thread and we'll get you started from there!
If you have any questions, feel free to PM or IM me!
V
-
Mattheys
((In this thread? buit this looks more like ooc thread, but okay))
Mattheys had been dreaming. It was a good dream. They always were good dreams when his Tree appeared. Somehow he thought the tree was something he had to aim for, like a ultimate goal in life. The very colorful dreams always made its way into the day and this time too it shined on him with a brightness he could hardly bear.
It made his brown eyes glow with a strange kind of light, making people keep their distance from him. He was happy. It was perhaps a strange thing to be happy in these troubled times, but there it was. A simple man looking fora simple job, but with not that simple dreams.
A girl pointed at him. He did not mind. Mattheys knew where he was going and he knew there was a chance that this same girl might one day purchase one of his tapestries, giving her the dreams she was looking for. He took a good look at those curls, falling over her back. There was something special in those eyes of hers. He nodded to himself. Yes, this was someone worth remembering as he would enter the city.
The sun worked with him this day, warming the path towards the city. It made him feel it was a good omen. This was the right place. Was this place not famous for its tapstries? It was, he knew this for a fact. Soon another weaver would take his place among them and soon the weavings would take on more than just a pretty picture.
Soon it would all become clear to him what his Tree wanted to tell him. But first he would have to speak with the guards before they let him in. He was not worried. He had nothing to hide. Surely they woudl see that.
Mattheys had been dreaming. It was a good dream. They always were good dreams when his Tree appeared. Somehow he thought the tree was something he had to aim for, like a ultimate goal in life. The very colorful dreams always made its way into the day and this time too it shined on him with a brightness he could hardly bear.
It made his brown eyes glow with a strange kind of light, making people keep their distance from him. He was happy. It was perhaps a strange thing to be happy in these troubled times, but there it was. A simple man looking fora simple job, but with not that simple dreams.
A girl pointed at him. He did not mind. Mattheys knew where he was going and he knew there was a chance that this same girl might one day purchase one of his tapestries, giving her the dreams she was looking for. He took a good look at those curls, falling over her back. There was something special in those eyes of hers. He nodded to himself. Yes, this was someone worth remembering as he would enter the city.
The sun worked with him this day, warming the path towards the city. It made him feel it was a good omen. This was the right place. Was this place not famous for its tapstries? It was, he knew this for a fact. Soon another weaver would take his place among them and soon the weavings would take on more than just a pretty picture.
Soon it would all become clear to him what his Tree wanted to tell him. But first he would have to speak with the guards before they let him in. He was not worried. He had nothing to hide. Surely they woudl see that.
A solitary figure erupted out of the bushes, onto the road that lead towards the capital of Dort. It was clad in impractical boots and a flimsy material which, on closer inspection, appeared to be the stained remnants of a well-tailored ladies' undergarment. Slung over its shoulder was a makeshift swag constructed from a woollen cloak. The cloak held foodscraps, an empty waterskin and three flasks of Roque d'Ancourt's finest. It's owner was clearly making good headway through at least one of these.
Covered in superficial scratches, and further suffering from blisters and exhaustion, the wretched figure limped and swayed it's way towards the city. Eventually it found itself standing before the Golden Gates, peering blearily at the guards.
"Name'sh Turi," it slurred. "Lookin'... 'm lookin' fora woshname. Guy. Merch'nt. Can't 'memberish name. Gotta..." it blinked owlishly. "Gotta get m'boat back. All thish wine. Unca Jai."
And with this declamation, Turelie Otholio, daughter of Dominai and Jethalie Otholio, Book-keeper of the Otholio Wine Traders' delegation to the Seven Isles, promptly threw up on the boots of the nearest guard and passed out.
((OOC: Greetings!))
Covered in superficial scratches, and further suffering from blisters and exhaustion, the wretched figure limped and swayed it's way towards the city. Eventually it found itself standing before the Golden Gates, peering blearily at the guards.
"Name'sh Turi," it slurred. "Lookin'... 'm lookin' fora woshname. Guy. Merch'nt. Can't 'memberish name. Gotta..." it blinked owlishly. "Gotta get m'boat back. All thish wine. Unca Jai."
And with this declamation, Turelie Otholio, daughter of Dominai and Jethalie Otholio, Book-keeper of the Otholio Wine Traders' delegation to the Seven Isles, promptly threw up on the boots of the nearest guard and passed out.
((OOC: Greetings!))
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
OOC: Greetings and Welcome! That's quite an entrance!
IC: At first there were a few furtive glances in Turelie's direction as she staggered towards the gates. As she vomited and collapsed, the guard, who's freshly shined boots had now been surprisingly and somewhat disgustingly ruined, blanched and gagged himself a few times.
"Aw damn!" He said. "That's the third time this month!" He kicked the nauseous remnants off and tried to wipe his boots in the nearby grass. "Next time you get the drunk ones Liam!" He warned, while the other gate sentry, the aforementioned Liam, giggled despite himself.
"At least she aint bad to look at this time, and better yet, a female!" Liam replied. The guard burst into a fit of laughter at the other guard's folly. Both shared a look, and both laughed even harder now.
They both clasped Turelie's hands and drug her somewhat unceremoniously over to a nearby tree where a makeshift shelter had been set up by using a large tarp tied to tree trunks. It was well outside the gates and easily seen by all who passed this direction, and they left her there for a bit. Finally, after a period of slowness where there was no one waiting to get in, a guard approached the girl.
He patted Turelie's face gently, trying to get her to wake up. "Wake up now missy. This aint no hospital, and I aint no healer. Time to get up and move on with yerself."
IC: At first there were a few furtive glances in Turelie's direction as she staggered towards the gates. As she vomited and collapsed, the guard, who's freshly shined boots had now been surprisingly and somewhat disgustingly ruined, blanched and gagged himself a few times.
"Aw damn!" He said. "That's the third time this month!" He kicked the nauseous remnants off and tried to wipe his boots in the nearby grass. "Next time you get the drunk ones Liam!" He warned, while the other gate sentry, the aforementioned Liam, giggled despite himself.
"At least she aint bad to look at this time, and better yet, a female!" Liam replied. The guard burst into a fit of laughter at the other guard's folly. Both shared a look, and both laughed even harder now.
They both clasped Turelie's hands and drug her somewhat unceremoniously over to a nearby tree where a makeshift shelter had been set up by using a large tarp tied to tree trunks. It was well outside the gates and easily seen by all who passed this direction, and they left her there for a bit. Finally, after a period of slowness where there was no one waiting to get in, a guard approached the girl.
He patted Turelie's face gently, trying to get her to wake up. "Wake up now missy. This aint no hospital, and I aint no healer. Time to get up and move on with yerself."
..missy. This ain't... Turi moaned. Someone very inconsiderate was slapping her face and screaming. Time to get up... She swatted at the hands as she struggled to sit upright. Her head throbbed - no, it pounded - and something had crawled into her mouth and died, or at least that's what it tasted like.
Oh. Oh dear.
"Sorry 'bout the boots," she mumbled, and opened her eyes to get a look at No Healer. Searing white fire screamed across her eyeballs. Bad idea. She shielded her eyes from the light and tried again.
The guard remained thankfully quiet as Turelie re-oriented herself. She smiled weakly at him once she was able to see again. Despite the rough words and slapping, he appeared more amused than annoyed. A good sign. Perhaps he would help her if she explained the situation properly. She continued to smile.
“My thanks to you, sir, for… ah… providing me with this… fine place of rest.†In full view of the road. In her camisole, no less. The smile froze, but remained fixed. “I apologise once again for any inconvenience I caused. I don’t normally drink wine, I’ve no head for it, I mean obviously I can’t even handle it when it’s watered down, but, well, I was in a hurry and I wasn’t sure how clean water in that well was and, well, it’s not like I had anything to boil it with anyway but I wasn’t too keen on dysentery after half the crew got sick, although I’m not sure hangovers are any better, which is beside the point.â€
She clutched at her head and tried to stop babbling. “Sorry. My name is Turelie Otholio. I don’t have any papers with me at the moment, I’m afraid they’re on my uncle’s ship. We had some problems… well, the short of it is the crew mutinied after we got stuck in this cove. They’re still holding Uncle Jai captive, but I managed to escape so I’ve been looking for help and the farmers told me the Citywatch might be willing to mount a rescue, although if the ship is out of their jurisdiction I think I have a contact who would help recover our cargo if he thought could profit from it. â€
Turi winced. Why couldn’t she stop babbling? “Uh, anyway, may I have entrance to Dort, please? And I would be grateful if you could advise me as to who it would be best to seek help from.â€
Oh. Oh dear.
"Sorry 'bout the boots," she mumbled, and opened her eyes to get a look at No Healer. Searing white fire screamed across her eyeballs. Bad idea. She shielded her eyes from the light and tried again.
The guard remained thankfully quiet as Turelie re-oriented herself. She smiled weakly at him once she was able to see again. Despite the rough words and slapping, he appeared more amused than annoyed. A good sign. Perhaps he would help her if she explained the situation properly. She continued to smile.
“My thanks to you, sir, for… ah… providing me with this… fine place of rest.†In full view of the road. In her camisole, no less. The smile froze, but remained fixed. “I apologise once again for any inconvenience I caused. I don’t normally drink wine, I’ve no head for it, I mean obviously I can’t even handle it when it’s watered down, but, well, I was in a hurry and I wasn’t sure how clean water in that well was and, well, it’s not like I had anything to boil it with anyway but I wasn’t too keen on dysentery after half the crew got sick, although I’m not sure hangovers are any better, which is beside the point.â€
She clutched at her head and tried to stop babbling. “Sorry. My name is Turelie Otholio. I don’t have any papers with me at the moment, I’m afraid they’re on my uncle’s ship. We had some problems… well, the short of it is the crew mutinied after we got stuck in this cove. They’re still holding Uncle Jai captive, but I managed to escape so I’ve been looking for help and the farmers told me the Citywatch might be willing to mount a rescue, although if the ship is out of their jurisdiction I think I have a contact who would help recover our cargo if he thought could profit from it. â€
Turi winced. Why couldn’t she stop babbling? “Uh, anyway, may I have entrance to Dort, please? And I would be grateful if you could advise me as to who it would be best to seek help from.â€
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
"Don't you fret none about the boots. A few throws of the dice and I'll have someone new shine 'em up good for me."
The guard paid little attention to her ramblings about wine and disease, allowing her to speak her peace until she mentioned not having any papers.
"Whoa... whoa... whoa... Slow down a bit lass. Profits or no, ships and mutinies are well beyond what I can help ye with. I just guard the gates and such. We keep the peace, not fight pirates. I'm afraid we've got more problems if you aint got any papers. Makes my job hard, ya see. Now I can escort ye to a cell, keep ya there until ye find someone to vouch for ye, but that's a long about way to gain entry. Ye got someone who can vouch for ye lass?"
The guard eyed her suspiciously. Mutinies and crews were dangerous business, and the threat of pirates was real enough to make the man wary. Besides, her story about escaping didn't add up to well with him, and he needed more information to work with.
He turned and signalled to the guards behind him to be mindful of his situation with the young woman and to watch the road. He didn't want to have any trouble if this were some sort of stunt to distract him from his post.
The guard paid little attention to her ramblings about wine and disease, allowing her to speak her peace until she mentioned not having any papers.
"Whoa... whoa... whoa... Slow down a bit lass. Profits or no, ships and mutinies are well beyond what I can help ye with. I just guard the gates and such. We keep the peace, not fight pirates. I'm afraid we've got more problems if you aint got any papers. Makes my job hard, ya see. Now I can escort ye to a cell, keep ya there until ye find someone to vouch for ye, but that's a long about way to gain entry. Ye got someone who can vouch for ye lass?"
The guard eyed her suspiciously. Mutinies and crews were dangerous business, and the threat of pirates was real enough to make the man wary. Besides, her story about escaping didn't add up to well with him, and he needed more information to work with.
He turned and signalled to the guards behind him to be mindful of his situation with the young woman and to watch the road. He didn't want to have any trouble if this were some sort of stunt to distract him from his post.
Hopelessness washed over Turi as she shook her head. "No-one whose name I know, sir." It seemed as if the past few days had been all for nothing. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. The effects of wine and panic began to subside.
Obviously, the guard didn't trust her story. Not a surprise, as she'd made such a hash of it. Part of the problem was that there were details about her escape that she really wished to keep to herself. Like the business with the cabin boy - it probably wasn't legal, and certainly wasn't moral.
Then there were the details she wasn’t clear on herself. She’d had a lot of time to think about them while she was locked in the ship’s hold. Everything had been fine between Roque and Amun Rah. Well, not exactly fine - her father had obviously had words with Jai and her uncle had been treating her like a child, telling her nothing of import and practically confining her to her cabin - but after they’d docked in the Abu’Sahir… How had so many men on the ship fallen ill so suddenly? Why had Jai been in such a hurry to leave the city, leaving loyal men behind? Why had the crew ‘mutinied’ so readily, in such an odd place?
Pirates, the guard had said. That made sense, but right now, help seemed more important than sense, and before she could get help it looked as if she'd have to convince this man that she was in fact who she said she was. She reached under her chemise, unpinned the copper clasp hidden beneath its hem, and handed it (the clasp, that is) to the guard for examination.
"This clasp bears my family crest. Otholio. We're wine traders. Some of the local merchants should recognise it. Certainly, my uncle’s contact will, but I don’t think I was ever told who that was. The name of our ship, the Venture, may also be known. That's the best I can do at the moment."
Turi gathered herself and stood up. "If that is not acceptable, I suppose it will be the cells for me, once again. I pray for my uncle's sake that you can find someone to vouch for me quickly." There was a pause as she realised how gauzily her clothes drifted around her. "Um, did I have a cloak with me when I arrived?"
OOC: Edited for better explanation...
Obviously, the guard didn't trust her story. Not a surprise, as she'd made such a hash of it. Part of the problem was that there were details about her escape that she really wished to keep to herself. Like the business with the cabin boy - it probably wasn't legal, and certainly wasn't moral.
Then there were the details she wasn’t clear on herself. She’d had a lot of time to think about them while she was locked in the ship’s hold. Everything had been fine between Roque and Amun Rah. Well, not exactly fine - her father had obviously had words with Jai and her uncle had been treating her like a child, telling her nothing of import and practically confining her to her cabin - but after they’d docked in the Abu’Sahir… How had so many men on the ship fallen ill so suddenly? Why had Jai been in such a hurry to leave the city, leaving loyal men behind? Why had the crew ‘mutinied’ so readily, in such an odd place?
Pirates, the guard had said. That made sense, but right now, help seemed more important than sense, and before she could get help it looked as if she'd have to convince this man that she was in fact who she said she was. She reached under her chemise, unpinned the copper clasp hidden beneath its hem, and handed it (the clasp, that is) to the guard for examination.
"This clasp bears my family crest. Otholio. We're wine traders. Some of the local merchants should recognise it. Certainly, my uncle’s contact will, but I don’t think I was ever told who that was. The name of our ship, the Venture, may also be known. That's the best I can do at the moment."
Turi gathered herself and stood up. "If that is not acceptable, I suppose it will be the cells for me, once again. I pray for my uncle's sake that you can find someone to vouch for me quickly." There was a pause as she realised how gauzily her clothes drifted around her. "Um, did I have a cloak with me when I arrived?"
OOC: Edited for better explanation...
Last edited by Turi on Sat Feb 11, 2006 1:06 am, edited 2 times in total.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
The guard examined the clasp carefully and somewhat suspiciously. He gave Turelie several odd looks was he did so, and he handed back the clasp to her after a few flickers.
"Otholio you say? Well then. We'll see about that. I'll see what I can do to get that verified. Unfortunately, it might take a bit in a cell before everything can be confirmed, but we'll get you straightened out before long."
He extended his hands in a gesture implying he would help her to her feet.
"A cloak?" The guard looked around, searching the nearby area with rapid glances about. He spotted it quickly and handed the bundle to her.
"Here you go, all your belongings. Safe and sound. Now, follow me and we'll get this all straightened out right quick!"
He led her a short distance back to the gates and through the wide, strong portals. More than a few glances from some of the other guards were cast in Turelie's direction, and a few even snickered and laughed.
The guard led her into a short stone gatehouse, adjacent to the gates themselves. Inside was a spartan room with an older man seated at a large, blocky wooden table. By the looks of him, he was some sort of officer or at least a higher rank than the others. The guard addressed him immediately upon entering.
"Sergeant Locke. I have this young woman here who claims to hail from these parts. She claims to be a member of the Otholio family. She has nothing to identify her other than a small trinket with the family crest on it. I was hoping to keep her her until I can get someone to verify her claim. Can she stay in here with you until I can bring someone from House Otholio over here to identify her?"
The sergeant looked up from his sheaf of papers with a serene and and tired looking gaze. He gave Turelie a cursory examination.
"She been checked for weapons?"
"Yes sir. She had none."
"Fine. Have Liam take your post and be off to find her family. No more than a mark you hear? Captain'll have my ass if he hears we went short shift again."
As the guard went off to follow orders, Locke gave Turelie a sheepish and embarassed grin.
"Sorry about that ma'am. My mouth is old and unfettered, and my brain is addled. I beg your pardon. Please, have a seat and we'll try to get you squared away before too long."
"Otholio you say? Well then. We'll see about that. I'll see what I can do to get that verified. Unfortunately, it might take a bit in a cell before everything can be confirmed, but we'll get you straightened out before long."
He extended his hands in a gesture implying he would help her to her feet.
"A cloak?" The guard looked around, searching the nearby area with rapid glances about. He spotted it quickly and handed the bundle to her.
"Here you go, all your belongings. Safe and sound. Now, follow me and we'll get this all straightened out right quick!"
He led her a short distance back to the gates and through the wide, strong portals. More than a few glances from some of the other guards were cast in Turelie's direction, and a few even snickered and laughed.
The guard led her into a short stone gatehouse, adjacent to the gates themselves. Inside was a spartan room with an older man seated at a large, blocky wooden table. By the looks of him, he was some sort of officer or at least a higher rank than the others. The guard addressed him immediately upon entering.
"Sergeant Locke. I have this young woman here who claims to hail from these parts. She claims to be a member of the Otholio family. She has nothing to identify her other than a small trinket with the family crest on it. I was hoping to keep her her until I can get someone to verify her claim. Can she stay in here with you until I can bring someone from House Otholio over here to identify her?"
The sergeant looked up from his sheaf of papers with a serene and and tired looking gaze. He gave Turelie a cursory examination.
"She been checked for weapons?"
"Yes sir. She had none."
"Fine. Have Liam take your post and be off to find her family. No more than a mark you hear? Captain'll have my ass if he hears we went short shift again."
As the guard went off to follow orders, Locke gave Turelie a sheepish and embarassed grin.
"Sorry about that ma'am. My mouth is old and unfettered, and my brain is addled. I beg your pardon. Please, have a seat and we'll try to get you squared away before too long."
Turi was not unaware of the looks cast at her as she was led through the gates. She flushed, initially embarrassed, then offended, then irritated at herself for letting those inconsiderate bast… men get to her. It would do no good to make a scene now.
If she was in any condition to draw herself erect and stride confidently past those louts, she would have, but alas, her back and feet were killing her and the best she could manage was to hunch and mince gingerly behind the guard.
As she stepped into the gatehouse, Turi began to relax. The man the guard called Sergeant Locke looked like the calm, competent type – and rather more civil than his men outside. She might have regained her confidence that help would arrive after all, if there had not been a terrible misunderstanding.
“Excuse me.†The young woman attempted to interrupt the guard politely as he reported to the Sergeant. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake…â€
Either the two men didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her, so she stood quietly, kicking herself and waiting for an opportunity to speak. Unfortunately, the guard left so quickly she didn’t have a chance to. Feeling agitated again, she turned towards Sergeant Locke and realized he was talking to her.
"Sorry about that ma'am. My mouth is old and unfettered, and my brain is addled. I beg your pardon. Please, have a seat and we'll try to get you squared away before too long."
“My brain must be even more addled!†Turi burst out. (It definitely was). “I forgot to tell that guard that I’m not from around here, I’m from the Western continent. Roque d’Ancourt. I came with my uncle on a trade expedition. And there’s barely a House Otholio back home, let alone in the Seven Isles. A warehouse, some business contacts and temple funds, yes, but he’s not going to find a House!â€
If she was in any condition to draw herself erect and stride confidently past those louts, she would have, but alas, her back and feet were killing her and the best she could manage was to hunch and mince gingerly behind the guard.
As she stepped into the gatehouse, Turi began to relax. The man the guard called Sergeant Locke looked like the calm, competent type – and rather more civil than his men outside. She might have regained her confidence that help would arrive after all, if there had not been a terrible misunderstanding.
“Excuse me.†The young woman attempted to interrupt the guard politely as he reported to the Sergeant. “I’m afraid there’s been a mistake…â€
Either the two men didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her, so she stood quietly, kicking herself and waiting for an opportunity to speak. Unfortunately, the guard left so quickly she didn’t have a chance to. Feeling agitated again, she turned towards Sergeant Locke and realized he was talking to her.
"Sorry about that ma'am. My mouth is old and unfettered, and my brain is addled. I beg your pardon. Please, have a seat and we'll try to get you squared away before too long."
“My brain must be even more addled!†Turi burst out. (It definitely was). “I forgot to tell that guard that I’m not from around here, I’m from the Western continent. Roque d’Ancourt. I came with my uncle on a trade expedition. And there’s barely a House Otholio back home, let alone in the Seven Isles. A warehouse, some business contacts and temple funds, yes, but he’s not going to find a House!â€
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Locke looked somewhat mystified by her admission.
"Now just a flicker here lass. You've got no papers, no local House, and no one to identify you here? Just what in the name of all that is Holy am I to do with you then?"
He wasn't necessarily angry, but there was a frustration that was clearly growing.
"I can't verify who you are, and I can't contact anyone who can. You're leaving me with few choices lass. The last time I had a fella without papers or a way to prove who he was, turned out to be an assassin sent to kill our fine Duke. If I don't get some answers, some real answers soon, you'll be aquainting yourself with his bones."
Locke stood, a hand resting casually, yet menacingly on the hilt of his sword.
"Now then. Let's start anew shall we? What's it going to be lass, papers, proof, or prison?"
"Now just a flicker here lass. You've got no papers, no local House, and no one to identify you here? Just what in the name of all that is Holy am I to do with you then?"
He wasn't necessarily angry, but there was a frustration that was clearly growing.
"I can't verify who you are, and I can't contact anyone who can. You're leaving me with few choices lass. The last time I had a fella without papers or a way to prove who he was, turned out to be an assassin sent to kill our fine Duke. If I don't get some answers, some real answers soon, you'll be aquainting yourself with his bones."
Locke stood, a hand resting casually, yet menacingly on the hilt of his sword.
"Now then. Let's start anew shall we? What's it going to be lass, papers, proof, or prison?"
Like Locke, Turelie was becoming frustrated. Unlike Locke, this equated to becoming angry.
She gave the sergeant a flat look. She was not about to give up now, not after all she had survived in the past two weeks. Pirates, navigators, cabin boys, food poisoning, alcohol poisoning. She’d been lost at sea, lost in a foreign country, lost up sh*t creek without a map. She had never been pushed so hard in her life but by the balls of Dominicus, come Aether or Nether she would not be stopped. She would get past this gate, she would get help for her uncle, she would salvage what she could of her family’s property and she would go home.
But to shape one’s destiny, no matter how great one’s will is, one first needs some sort of sculptural ability. Turi was in no shape to run or fight. She could not charm, deceive or manipulate her way out of a wet paper bag. She did not have power, influence or even surprise on her side. In the end, there was only one thing left to her. Logic. Logic she wasn’t using.
Then Sergeant Lock put his hand on his sword, and suddenly, everything became clear.
“Of course. This isn’t real, is it?â€
(Turi’s mind was like a razor – sharp, fine, surgical. However, its mettle had never been tested, tempered or even annealed in her pampered little life. And it was currently being wielded by a drunk against a tree. A drunk who wouldn’t surrender. Something had to give.)
“I must be dreaming, or hallucinating, because this doesn’t make sense at all,†she rambled on, completely oblivious to any response from Locke. “Any guard worth his wages would be capable of identifying a Dortsman from a foreigner, and surely, no seasoned officer would be so craven as to feel threatened by a girl in her underwear."
With the ‘realisation’ came peace – no more pain, no more anger, no more fear. Perfect clarity of thought. A gentle, serene smile spread slowly across her face.
Turi settled into the chair that Locke had offered her. She stared in midair and tapped her chin contemplatively. When she eventually woke up she was likely to encounter similar problems. It would be best to work out a solution in case she found herself in such difficulties. She could handle this. Yes, she could handle this.
Real answers. So, papers, proof or prison? It alliterated. The man was an orator. Focus. She had no papers, it wasn’t an option. Unless… of course. Correspondence. Proof? She had no direct proof of her identity either, but there were people here who knew her uncle. Hopefully they shared enough of a family resemblance that it could be used to support her claim. And of course, she had some knowledge of his business operations.
The unstable young woman was almost beginning to enjoy wrangling through this mess that didn’t really exist, although the gods alone knew what the poor Sergeant was making of her behaviour. Especially since her thoughtful midair staring was directed somewhere in the vicinity of his groin.
A few uncomfortable burns later, Turi spoke again. She appeared to be thinking aloud, rather than addressing Locke. “I came to Dort looking for help. My ship has been taken over by... crewmen. Pirates. I don't know. My uncle is being held captive.â€
Captive. Sleeping with Fishers. The first mate. Captive. In someone’s locker. Where was that? A cell? Captive. Her thoughts skated on dangerously thin ice. They’d been doing that for quite some time now. She pushed them away and pressed on.
“There seem to be political problems in Dort. The local law enforcement may be more concerned with protecting the Duke than bringing criminals to justice. So, I suppose I will receive little help from the Watch. Instead, I must defend myself from them. Very well. I probably should have thought about this earlier. "
“In this situation, if we are lucky, your man will find people who know of my family, people we do business with. A warehouse owner who’s rent is late. Innkeepers and merchants who are expecting a reliable source of affordable, quality Cliff Whites and Roque Reds. I could somehow persuade them to vouch for me, at the very least, and whatever happens from there is not your problem."
“If we are unlucky, I will request to have a letter sent home to my father. Then, there’s nothing more I can do but pray. And if the city of Dort offers to provide me food and lodging while we wait for him, then such is the grace of Dominicus.â€
The young woman sighed. “Now, if this sounds reasonable to you, leave me be. I need to wake up.†She closed her eyes. Nothing more I can do. If only I could accept that.
She gave the sergeant a flat look. She was not about to give up now, not after all she had survived in the past two weeks. Pirates, navigators, cabin boys, food poisoning, alcohol poisoning. She’d been lost at sea, lost in a foreign country, lost up sh*t creek without a map. She had never been pushed so hard in her life but by the balls of Dominicus, come Aether or Nether she would not be stopped. She would get past this gate, she would get help for her uncle, she would salvage what she could of her family’s property and she would go home.
But to shape one’s destiny, no matter how great one’s will is, one first needs some sort of sculptural ability. Turi was in no shape to run or fight. She could not charm, deceive or manipulate her way out of a wet paper bag. She did not have power, influence or even surprise on her side. In the end, there was only one thing left to her. Logic. Logic she wasn’t using.
Then Sergeant Lock put his hand on his sword, and suddenly, everything became clear.
“Of course. This isn’t real, is it?â€
(Turi’s mind was like a razor – sharp, fine, surgical. However, its mettle had never been tested, tempered or even annealed in her pampered little life. And it was currently being wielded by a drunk against a tree. A drunk who wouldn’t surrender. Something had to give.)
“I must be dreaming, or hallucinating, because this doesn’t make sense at all,†she rambled on, completely oblivious to any response from Locke. “Any guard worth his wages would be capable of identifying a Dortsman from a foreigner, and surely, no seasoned officer would be so craven as to feel threatened by a girl in her underwear."
With the ‘realisation’ came peace – no more pain, no more anger, no more fear. Perfect clarity of thought. A gentle, serene smile spread slowly across her face.
Turi settled into the chair that Locke had offered her. She stared in midair and tapped her chin contemplatively. When she eventually woke up she was likely to encounter similar problems. It would be best to work out a solution in case she found herself in such difficulties. She could handle this. Yes, she could handle this.
Real answers. So, papers, proof or prison? It alliterated. The man was an orator. Focus. She had no papers, it wasn’t an option. Unless… of course. Correspondence. Proof? She had no direct proof of her identity either, but there were people here who knew her uncle. Hopefully they shared enough of a family resemblance that it could be used to support her claim. And of course, she had some knowledge of his business operations.
The unstable young woman was almost beginning to enjoy wrangling through this mess that didn’t really exist, although the gods alone knew what the poor Sergeant was making of her behaviour. Especially since her thoughtful midair staring was directed somewhere in the vicinity of his groin.
A few uncomfortable burns later, Turi spoke again. She appeared to be thinking aloud, rather than addressing Locke. “I came to Dort looking for help. My ship has been taken over by... crewmen. Pirates. I don't know. My uncle is being held captive.â€
Captive. Sleeping with Fishers. The first mate. Captive. In someone’s locker. Where was that? A cell? Captive. Her thoughts skated on dangerously thin ice. They’d been doing that for quite some time now. She pushed them away and pressed on.
“There seem to be political problems in Dort. The local law enforcement may be more concerned with protecting the Duke than bringing criminals to justice. So, I suppose I will receive little help from the Watch. Instead, I must defend myself from them. Very well. I probably should have thought about this earlier. "
“In this situation, if we are lucky, your man will find people who know of my family, people we do business with. A warehouse owner who’s rent is late. Innkeepers and merchants who are expecting a reliable source of affordable, quality Cliff Whites and Roque Reds. I could somehow persuade them to vouch for me, at the very least, and whatever happens from there is not your problem."
“If we are unlucky, I will request to have a letter sent home to my father. Then, there’s nothing more I can do but pray. And if the city of Dort offers to provide me food and lodging while we wait for him, then such is the grace of Dominicus.â€
The young woman sighed. “Now, if this sounds reasonable to you, leave me be. I need to wake up.†She closed her eyes. Nothing more I can do. If only I could accept that.
Last edited by Turi on Sun Feb 26, 2006 10:45 am, edited 2 times in total.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Locke's face soured and darkened at being called craven. This was simply something that he would not tolerate from anyone, especially some random girl without the proper papers to identify herself with.
"Well girl. I never said I couldn't tell you from a foreigner or not. Just because you may hail from these parts, doesn't excuse you and give you free reign to wander as you please. The assassin I mentioned a bit ago was from Dort hisself, so save your lectures about who's a coward and who's in the right, who's dreaming, and who's awake and that other bullshit. I ain't interested in pirates or wines or any other stuff you've been carrying on about."
"Now then, since you seem to be so keen on throwing around insults and making yourself bigger than you are, you and me are going to take a little trip. You're going to defend yourself alright. Grab your stuff, I got someone I'd like for you to meet."
The way he stood nearby with his hand on his weapon was very clear that he wasn't about to take no for an answer.
"Well girl. I never said I couldn't tell you from a foreigner or not. Just because you may hail from these parts, doesn't excuse you and give you free reign to wander as you please. The assassin I mentioned a bit ago was from Dort hisself, so save your lectures about who's a coward and who's in the right, who's dreaming, and who's awake and that other bullshit. I ain't interested in pirates or wines or any other stuff you've been carrying on about."
"Now then, since you seem to be so keen on throwing around insults and making yourself bigger than you are, you and me are going to take a little trip. You're going to defend yourself alright. Grab your stuff, I got someone I'd like for you to meet."
The way he stood nearby with his hand on his weapon was very clear that he wasn't about to take no for an answer.
OOC: Sorry bout the infrequent posting... been busy, and I don't write real fast.
Tetchy.
As she listened to Locke, Turelie knew that she ought to feeling something beyond mild irritation. Fear. Shame. Anger. But his words stopped short and rolled away, like rain on a window. It was strange, and also somewhat liberating. She wished she could divorce herself from emotions and opinions so easily in real life. It would make things much easier to deal with. She opened her eyes. The Sergeant's posturing didn't cow her in the least - in fact, he looked somewhat ludicrous, clutching at his shiny stick like a child with a security blanket. What did he think he was going to do with it, cut her down in his office? It wouldn't be worth the effort cleaning up afterwards.
Invulnerability. It didn’t make her brave, but it made her fearless. It also made her reckless. For a moment, Turi considered staying right where she was – but a deeper sense of self-preservation suggested that it would be...interesting to take this trip the Sergeant spoke of. It would certainly be in her best interests. She stood up unhurriedly.
"Whatever you say, sirrah. I'm sure I'd like to meet this someone too."
Tetchy.
As she listened to Locke, Turelie knew that she ought to feeling something beyond mild irritation. Fear. Shame. Anger. But his words stopped short and rolled away, like rain on a window. It was strange, and also somewhat liberating. She wished she could divorce herself from emotions and opinions so easily in real life. It would make things much easier to deal with. She opened her eyes. The Sergeant's posturing didn't cow her in the least - in fact, he looked somewhat ludicrous, clutching at his shiny stick like a child with a security blanket. What did he think he was going to do with it, cut her down in his office? It wouldn't be worth the effort cleaning up afterwards.
Invulnerability. It didn’t make her brave, but it made her fearless. It also made her reckless. For a moment, Turi considered staying right where she was – but a deeper sense of self-preservation suggested that it would be...interesting to take this trip the Sergeant spoke of. It would certainly be in her best interests. She stood up unhurriedly.
"Whatever you say, sirrah. I'm sure I'd like to meet this someone too."
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
He led her out of his office and towards a low, squat looking building with a flat roof and barred windows. It was ugly, barren and cold. She was inside the gates now, inside the city as she had wished. A small detachment fell into place behind her and Locke as they walked. Clearly they were taking no chances.
He continued to march her towards the building until at last they reached it. He opened the door and actually held it for her, waiting for her to enter.
Inside was a wooden desk, at which another guard was sitting, in front of a large, iron bound door. The seated guardsman arose when he glanced up and saw Locke, and then he stood at the ready for the Sergeant's command. Locke nodded towards the door, and the guard reached for a jangle of keys on a large ring at his belt. He selected one, unlocked the massive door and opened it. Locke gave Turelie a telling look, and gestured for her to enter.
A stone stair descended down into darkness that was only interrupted by a few pitchy torches which burned fitfully and nearly went out at the sudden rush of air when the door was opened. They descended the stairs and at the bottom were three rusty and forgotten cells. One was occupied by a bearded man who was filthy and flea-bitten. The other two were empty. The guard with the keys opened up one of the cells and Turelie was unceremoniously ushered inside. The barred cell door clanged shut with an awful finality.
Locke spoke up.
"This is Golmarin. Thief. Liar. Killer."
Up and away the guards went taking much of the light with them.
He continued to march her towards the building until at last they reached it. He opened the door and actually held it for her, waiting for her to enter.
Inside was a wooden desk, at which another guard was sitting, in front of a large, iron bound door. The seated guardsman arose when he glanced up and saw Locke, and then he stood at the ready for the Sergeant's command. Locke nodded towards the door, and the guard reached for a jangle of keys on a large ring at his belt. He selected one, unlocked the massive door and opened it. Locke gave Turelie a telling look, and gestured for her to enter.
A stone stair descended down into darkness that was only interrupted by a few pitchy torches which burned fitfully and nearly went out at the sudden rush of air when the door was opened. They descended the stairs and at the bottom were three rusty and forgotten cells. One was occupied by a bearded man who was filthy and flea-bitten. The other two were empty. The guard with the keys opened up one of the cells and Turelie was unceremoniously ushered inside. The barred cell door clanged shut with an awful finality.
Locke spoke up.
"This is Golmarin. Thief. Liar. Killer."
Up and away the guards went taking much of the light with them.
“Greetings, Golmarin. I’m Turi. Book-keeper. Pest.â€
Things did not seem promising, as far as introductions went. Well, the man had not said murderer. There were many types of killers in this world. Turi decided to believe the best she could of her new companion until she found out otherwise.
"Been here long?"
She leaned against the doors, waiting for her eyes to acclimatise to the darkness. The lack of light did not seem particularly menacing, but she disliked the feeling of disorientation it gave her. While she waited for Golmarin to reply, Turi laid down herd bundle to mark her original position, and carefully made her way around the walls of the room, hoping to find a bucket or some sort of seat.
The rocking floor was making her nauseous.
Things did not seem promising, as far as introductions went. Well, the man had not said murderer. There were many types of killers in this world. Turi decided to believe the best she could of her new companion until she found out otherwise.
"Been here long?"
She leaned against the doors, waiting for her eyes to acclimatise to the darkness. The lack of light did not seem particularly menacing, but she disliked the feeling of disorientation it gave her. While she waited for Golmarin to reply, Turi laid down herd bundle to mark her original position, and carefully made her way around the walls of the room, hoping to find a bucket or some sort of seat.
The rocking floor was making her nauseous.
Last edited by Turi on Sat Mar 18, 2006 11:03 am, edited 2 times in total.
[size=75][i][b]"If it were clear in my mind, I should have no incentive or need to write about it. We do not write in order to be understood; we write in order to understand." -C. Day-Lewis[/b][/i]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]
Avatar by enayla at allavatars.com[/size]