Northbridge - Entrance to World's Mouth [22nd of Chyril]]

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Tilha O`Renimin
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

Heathen but polite, at least!

Deciding to ignore Dandini and let Antonio disentangle whatever he started with the lady, Jamie cast a suspicious look on the Achadhiel who had greeted him.

"Okay. Before this day can be good for anyone, I need your name, place of origin, religion, and reason for visit."
As he motioned for one of his older men to inspect rahee gear, he added: "And I'll need to know if you're bringing in any weapon, drug, or object of exotic value".

As he approached the horse, the older legionnaire stopped for a painful sounding cough. He spit on the side of the pavement some black saliva, reminding the black fumes that were hiding the east-end on the left of Sorinna.
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A name, place of origin, religion and reason for visit. Sorinna made a mental note of everything she was being asked. When Jamie finished, she began:

"My name is Sorinna Rayan, I'm from..." She paused, wondering for a moment how her nationality would be recieved. "I'm from T'aquar. My reason for visit is to try out life here. At the moment, I don't have a religion, I guess that's another reason why I'm here."

As Rahee's saddlebags were being checked, Jamie asked his last question. "Hmm, well, I don't have any weapons, nor do I bear narcotics of any sort, but by 'object of exotic value', do you mean this?" The achadhiel asked, pulling her violin out of a satchel. It looked like any violin, nothing too fancy. She wasn't sure where it had come from, the only thing the girl knew was that it was a gift from her mother.
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

No religion, and wanting to find one? Hope you don't believe the church will help you...
But Jamie was not paid to drive out all heathens, so after noting the information, he kept his answer to his standard line.
"You are entitled to any idea you want about religion. This is a free city you are entering. But that should stay private. Any trouble and you're back to Pax."

"No, a violin is not that exotic." Actually, most of the Kingdom and the Empire musicians were still using violas, so this violin might even have come from the Mouth. But the red clad sergeant was a soldier, not a musician, and this information never reached his thoughts.

"But I cannot let you try to settle here like that. How do you intend to make a living?"
What are these Adhiels thinking? They want to taste progress and think they can do it out of charity, like picking fruits in their forests?
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Sorinna carefully noted the information given to her about religion in the city. If I am seen practicing any other religion other than Oneism in public, I'll be deported, mm? This isn't exactly the friendliest place ever. She had no intention of leaving her new home anytime soon, thus, the achadhiel would keep any and all religious interest from the public eye.

"Yes, I understand, sir," She told him. "I'll keep to myself on that." The girl smirked when the scribe told her the nearly-obvious. Of course a violin wasn't that rare, but it was important to have it checked now, and not later. She didn't know too much about the music scene in World's Mouth.

"But I cannot let you try to settle here like that. How do you intend to make a living?"


"A living?" Sorinna asked, as if she had not heard the question properly. She continued: "Well, if by living you mean a job, I really haven't decided on a career to pursue. I guess I might just pick up odd jobs here and there, while making residence in an inn." In actuality, she had just made that plan up. The half-elf had never really thought beyond the 'go-to-World's-Mouth' plan. She knew there was an elven quarter in the West End in which she could find an inn, but no, the idea of work never really came to her. But the 'odd jobs' plan sounded okay.
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With a veritable sigh Dandini watched as her generous gesture fell flat on its face. Really, that guard could have put a little effort into catching it, she mused eyeing him warily. Then when Jamie decided to explain a few things her jaw almost dropped open. Heathen? Oh, she knew well enough that they had different religions all over the world, and she had no intention of spending her fun time converting everyone to the proper religion of the mother – if they didn’t have the good sense to worship her then more fool them. But to be called a heathen?

Pouting, she nodded at the guard, satisfied that at least that she could worship in private if the need took her. “I wouldn’t ever dream of demeaning myself with such a public display,” she said haughtily. “And I won’t think to tip anyone again then if it causes such offence, I only meant it to be a nice gesture.” At least Sorrina seemed to have some wits about her she decided as the young achadhiel returned the wayward coin. She rewarded her with a little smile before returning to deal with the more immediate problems that still had to be dealt with.

Immediate threat? What in all of Tazlure do they think me capable of? Privately Dandini was beginning to suspect that World’s Mouth might be a little backwards compared to her own home. The comment about the luggage just about confirmed it.

Placing her hands on the table she gazed down steadily at the man. Really these people seem unable to grasp the simplest of concepts! “Let me explain it to you then,” she said speaking with the slow patience she reserved for simpletons. “I have arrived by boat from Muchislie, I have a chest with my belongings in which I refer to as my luggage. By now I imagine it has been unloaded and now sits on the dock awaiting to be claimed. Obviously I cannot carry it,” with this she swept her own hand the length of her body as if to indicate her own frailty as a mere woman. “I want someone to get it for me. Really, I would have thought it simply good manners to help a lady in distress.”
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

Jamie was quite a stubborn man, and when he had decided to ignore someone, he was quite effective at it. Dandini reply found no answer from him as he noted down the achadhiel’s details.
And the blonde human was soon cut out from his sight as the horse followed her mistress.

Luckily, young Antonio was now on her side and heard her explanation. Touching her arm lightly, he replied in a soothing voice.
“Ah, Signorina, I understand your problem now. But this is not how it works here, you know. Porque we are soldiers, we are here to protect you from evil invaders, not to help travellers with their luggage."
"But I think have a solution for you", he continued with his most charming smile. "See this man in black at the gate? He is a coach driver waiting for a customer. If you add a suitable tip to the fare to the Dortman, he will surely be happy to retrieve your luggage.”

Looking at the banner in her delicate hand he added. “I’m afraid this might be a bit light. You’ll find that life in our city is quite expensive compared to less advanced areas. But don't worry, it has many other advantages.”
“I got an idea, what do you think: I end my service at noon. You use the coach to go to the Dortman, and I join you there this tradetide to check you are fine and explain you all that?”
Around a fine romantic lunch…
Clearly the young redcoat taste for blonde hair was not put off by exotic clothing or strange religious beliefs…

[hr]It was visible that Sorinna answer did not please Jamie, as suspicion was apparent on his face. But he was not the one making the laws.
Not yet, not yet, but I will rise…
If he had not been able to prevent this stronzo gnome from entering, he was not going to prevent another politer pagan to do so, simply because she had no trade to speak of.
“Bene, as you wish. You may enter then. Beware that if you intend to make money with this instrument, you’ll need a license first.”

That was his last try at keeping her away.
Now do what you want, I don’t care if you end at the lilies. Some customers like pointy ears, I heard.
Back at his post near the gate, the old legionnaire coughed again, while Rahee turned her face to the left and snorted at the acrid scents drifting from the east end.

OOC: Sorinna, you are cleared to enter.[/hr]
Last edited by Tilha O`Renimin on Tue Jul 03, 2007 5:13 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Dugy was nervous. So very nervous. His big chance and all he had to do is pass the gates. He felt so small amongst others. None of his kind were around. Nowhere in sight in fact. He did take the opportunity to pull out his best set of clothes, or rather his only set of clothes if one did not count the gown he had stashed in his chest. Mala's rein in hand he stepped forward and wriggled his toes before approaching the guards at last. "Sorry. Is this entrance to World's Mouth? I want set up shop? Make dresses for ladies. Can I come in? Please?"
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Stamping her foot, an instinctive reaction to being ignored in the world Dandini occupied, she found the touch on her arm like a soothing balm. “Ah, I see” the blonde murmured, though in truth she didn’t understand at all why they wouldn’t help her. It seemed to her that soldiers were supposed to help and protect people, it wasn’t as if she asked them to chop their fingers off for fun or anything else to utterly pointless.

That soothing voice though were doing wonders at keeping her temper from rising. She contentedly herself with thinking they were just rather simple people rather than throwing a full scale tantrum and making her displeasure known. And this guard was turning out to be quite nice company, in his simple soldiery sort of way. “The coach driver, ah yes I see now. Now wouldn’t it have been simpler if he had just told me that in the first place.” For the last she raised her voice and threw a withering look over her shoulder at were Jamie sat, presumably somewhere behind the horse.

Her eyes narrowed a bit when he mentioned less advanced area’s and for a briefest flicker of a moment she actually thought he was referring to Muchislie. But deciding no one could be that stupid she let it slip, after all she had mentioned she was travelling … maybe he assumed she’d been to one of these less advanced places he mentioned before coming to World’s Mouth.

“Tradetide?” She mulled the idea over a moment, deciding whether or not the man was deserving of her company and then decided to live life on the dangerous side for an evening. It might even be rather fun to go slumming it. And if the coach driver did away with her there would at least be a guard looking out for her. “Very well then, I’ll see you there then.” And then went off to arrange her transportation without another word or any thanks.

“You there, coach driver man,” she smiled bounding up to the man with renewed energy. “Be so good as to fetch my trunk from the dock and take me on to the Dortman. I’ll be sure to see you’re paid well when we arrive there safely.”
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Post by Arnholt »

A big human stood not far behind the gnome, waiting his own turn to approach the gate. In the mean time he was whistling to himself. Badly. To the truly perceptive the tune might just barely be recognized as a simple little hymn to Dominicus. Arnholt was feeling fairly upbeat, now, all things considered. At least we was finally off that damned boat. The long hike down the coast was likewise behind him now. And he had spotted the guards at the gate from afar, in plenty of time to hide some of his more incriminating belongings about his person. The guards didn't seem to be checking people's bags, as far as he could tell, but of course you just never knew.

"Gate looks pretty busy," Arnholt remarked once, to no one in particular.

And shortly resumed his monotonous whistling. The big man's hands were stuffed into his trouser pockets, which also contained the couple of lockpicks that hadn't been concealed in his sleeves. At present the hood of his black cloak was pulled up over his head, not out of any sense of drama, but to protect his recently shaved scalp from sunburn. He had already discovered that it was susceptible to that. Cloaked and cowled, Arnholt fancied that he looked just a bit like a traveling monk. He looked like the sort of monk who beat up other monks for their lunch money, maybe, but that really couldn't be helped. Long ahren spent on the streets left their mark on a man one way or another.
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

Having not been on the bridge long enough to witness previous gnomish-mule-induced trouble at the gate, Dugy might be quite surprised at the nervousness of the grey-haired redcoat he addressed on his side of the gate.

Nevertheless, the man quickly regained his composure, though not without another fit of cough and another black spit on the pavement.
"Si, that's it. Lavare i occhi, if this bridge looks like any Kingdom's one!" He soon answered to the gnome's query.

"You'll set up what you want when you'll have the proper license. But now, to enter, you have to give the sergeant your details."
The legionnaire pointed to the table where another redcoat was waving inside an achadhiel and her horse. Apparently, the gnome was next in line.

[hr]"Si Signora", the coach driver answered to Dandini orders. He was used for the kind of people who went to Highton to give any kind of orders. As long as they payed, it was not a problem.
And as the lady had already been vetted by the guards, he expected few problems to re-enter town with the trunk. Maybe a short search, at most.
He opened the door of the coach, and motioned her inside.

OOC: unless you intend to cause more trouble here ;) you can assume trunk and owner made it safely to the Dortman. Just put a last post here so I know you're off.[/hr]

[hr]Meanwhile, nobody seemed to be paying Arnholt any attention. But he was supposed to wait before the gnome in front of him was finished.
Or rather, before he moved his mule. The owner size was short enough to make believe it would have been easy to pass him unknowingly without his animal.[/hr]
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"That is a bad habit you have there, mister. It is not nice to spit in public. Here take this and spit in that. Much more polite that way." Dugaylo pulled a golden colored handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to the rude guard, who took it and looked at the little guy in puzzlement as he passed onward towards the Sergeant who was to take his name. "Hello. I am Dugaylo. Nice guard there says I should report to you. What do I need to do to get in?"
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A moment's introspection.

Post by Arnholt »

Arnholt just lounged there, still whistling, while he waited for the gnome ahead of him to move his ass (so to speak). The guards' entire attention seemed occupied by one foreigner at a time. Absent the mule, he supposed he could have just snuck into the city with no one the wiser. But why take the risk when he was next in line in any case? In the mean time he let his mind wander. He thought back to the events that had brought him to this city, and a conversation he’d had just a day or so before…

***

It was aboard the Scalawag, the small, swift smugglers’ ship that had brought him to these shores. There had been no passenger’s cabin to speak of. Just a dark, cramped corner of the ship’s hold. It was just barely large enough to accommodate a moldy pallet and a couple of old crates. He and the first mate, Tetch, who had seemed a decent enough sort, were sharing Arnholt’s last bottle of ale. And Arnholt had been just happy enough to share the story of his downfall with a fellow member of the kingdom’s underclass.

“Say it again,” Tetch had begged, leering sloppily. He was deeper in his cups than Arnholt had been. “You were the…”

“The Burning Crimson Fire Bandits,” the fugitive admitted once more. “And you can wipe that damned smirk off your face, you bastard. It wasn’t me who chose that name.” It really hadn’t been. When you ranked very near the low man on the totem pole, you didn’t have much say in what the gang was called. “Do you want to hear the story or not?” And he had snatched back the bottle from out of the smuggler’s hand.

“No, no,” said the first mate, earnest and besotted. “Go on. So your boss had th’idea to raid this rich man’s house.”

“That’s right,” Arnholt growled. “It was a bit out of our territory. Hell, it was a lot out of our territory. But, you see, the boss had the idea that was a good thing. We wouldn’t be the first ones suspected. And what’s more, his second cousin was the best friend of one of the guards in the night shift. And he got him to talk his buddy into going drinking for a mark or so late at night, right in the middle of their watch, when their boss would be none the wiser.”

“Pretty slick,” Tetch had allowed, eyeing the bottle longingly while Arnholt interrupted his story for a quick swig or two.

“So. Me and two of the other hard boys in the…” “Burning Crimson Fire Bandits,” they had echoed together. “…We put on our masks and strolled right on in through the front door, at the duly appointed mark. Our man on the inside had even left it unlocked for us without his buddy ever being the wiser.”

“Pretty slick,” Tetch said again, a little mournfully. And Arnholt finally had mercy and passed the bottle back his way.

“Anyway. There we were, taking the place apart, pretty as you please. Quiet as mice, we were. But our guardian angel must have been asleep at the wheel, because the next thing you know, the merchant’s daughter is come downstairs, staring at us all big-eyed in the light of her candle. We hadn’t spotted one another until she was right in the middle of the job. And us in our black togs and our masks and carrying away the good silverware. And her just standing there in nothing but her nightie. Stop laughing, you dumb fuck! It’s not that funny.” In retaliation, Arnholt took the bottle prisoner once again.

Tetch hardly seemed to care. His eyes had refocused considerably. “No, no,” he said intently. “Go on. What, ah, happened then?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Arnholt groused. “It wasn’t like that at all. She was just a little bit of a thing, of maybe sixteen ahren, if that. Anyway, we weren’t that kind of gang.” Charitably, for him, he ignored the slight grumble of disappointment from the smuggler. “So I grab her… all right, laugh, you old goat. I grab her and I tell her if she just shuts up there won’t be no one hurt. And of course the little thing screams her damn head off. She puts up a hell of a fight, too. Kicked me a time or two right in the ol’ fruits. Good thing she was barefoot and I was wearing my hard-leather drawers.”

“And then?” The smuggler demanded. He seemed sufficiently enrapt in Arnholt’s tale that the big thug passed back the bottle as a reward.

“Well, apparently the girl’s daddy was a light sleeper. Because the next thing we know, he comes pounding down the stairs in nothing but his night-cap and gown… swinging the biggest damn sword I’ve ever seen like he knew how to use it. And the most steel we three had among us was Big Jim’s shortsword. But then, we had his daughter, too. So we look at him and he looks at us, with the girl screaming all the while for him to cut us down like dogs. Luckily for all concerned, the merchant, he has a cooler head than she does. He sees he could’ve taken one, maybe two of us down, but not without him and his crazy little bit of a daughter getting killed. So he says, ‘You gentlemen give my daughter back to me and get out of my house right now.’ And we say, ‘Done deal.’”

“And that’s all?” the first mate had asked. He looked somewhat disappointed with that denouement; even offered the bottle back without being asked, for once.

But, “Hell, no,” Arnholt said. “Any one of us would have been happy to leave it at that. It was clear the night wasn’t going to turn out good for anyone. We were all ready to cut our losses and go our separate ways. But the girl… the damned little brat, and her looking so sweet and all… apparently she was holding a grudge. The moment I turn her loose, damned if she doesn’t go straight for my eyes!” And he held up one hand, twisted into a claw, for emphasis. “As if I’d tried to compromise her virtue or something.” The big man took another long swig of the ale, resigned, this time, to the smuggler’s laughter. “Well, you can imagine the screaming and the cussing. Daddy’s hollering for her to lay off, telling her they’ll both be safe enough if she’ll just get over to where he can defend her. And Big Jim and Torc, they’re yelling at me to stop playing around with the little bitch so we can make our exit. Of course they stood well back as they said so! The pricks.” And the big man broke off to stare mournfully at the bottle in his hand.

“Well?” Tetch demanded, after the pause seemed to stretch on indefinitely. “So what happened?”

“Now much more to tell,” Arnholt sighed. “The kid managed to snatch off my mask before I could stop her. I gave her a ‘good-night’ kiss with the butt of my dagger, which I should’ve maybe done in the first place. But now it was too late. She and her daddy had both seen my face, and he wasn’t too happy about the way I’d popped his daughter one. We three got the hell out of there with just what we’d managed to snatch already, and the next morning I was a wanted man. Could’ve just lay low for a while, I suppose, but the Vanguard knew damn well I wasn’t a solo act. In the end, I decided to skip town rather than risk bringing the law down on the gang.”

“Hell of a story,” Tetch had offered, after a long pause of his own. And then, “Hey. How about passing that ale back my way just once more?”

Arnholt had tossed the bottle to him carelessly. “Keep it,” he grunted. “It’s empty.”

***

(OOC: Originally began writing this before Dugaylo posted. But, what the heck. Arnholt will just be lost in thought before the guard notices him.)
Last edited by Arnholt on Sun Jul 08, 2007 9:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Guest »

Feeling well pleased with herself and finally confident that at least someone knew what he was doing, albeit a coachman, Dandini settled back into her seat intent on enjoying the view of the city as she travelled to the recommended inn.

ooc: Thanks for a lovely introduction thread.
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

OOC:
- Sorinna, I'm assuming you entered for speed sake as the entrance is an impassable thread. Contact me if it is a problem.
- Dugaylo, please refrain from assuming NPC reactions, who knows he's not a psycho killer? :twisted:
- Bye Dandini, that was some nice roleplay.
IC:

The gray-haired redcoat was indeed surprised at the gnome reaction.
If you want to give etiquette lesson to all coughers in the Mouth, you'll run out of handkerchiefs quite soon!
But he nonetheless kept the handkerchief, and Dugaylo soon found himself facing the sergeant while the achadiel and her horse advanced towards the gate.

"What you need to do is simple: Give me your name, place of origin, religion, and reason for visit", the sergeant answered to the query.
And behave better than the former gnome!
"And tell us if you carry anything dangerous in there."

Jamie pointed to the mule that the older legionnaire was approaching cautiously to check the luggage contents. Like the horse before her, the animal was busy sniffing to the left the unwelcoming scents drifting from the Eastern part of the town.

[hr]Meanwhile, Antonio had waved goodbye to Dandini, and found himself standing next to Arnholt, and with nothing better to do than preparing this strange monk entrance.

"Buonjourno pater! Care to answer a few questions so I can report directly to the sergeant, without you having to wait for this gnome to move?
He'll need to know your name and place of origin, and your reason for visiting town.
And a confirmation that you do worship Dominicus, of course."

The traffic had dwindled after the early morningtide rush, and the bridge was much less busy now. Which also mean the extra pair of guards under the gate itself were easily scanning the arrivals, and would probably not let anyone skipping inspection pass unchallenged.
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Post by Arnholt »

"Hmm? What?" Still lost in his reverie, it took Arnholt a moment to realize that the 'pater' being addressed was none other than himself. It took him only a split second longer to decide to let the misconception stand. He was pretty sure he could bullshit his way through being a monk for the next few burns, and probably the less the guards here knew about him, the better. The big man bowed his head, further obscuring his face within the shadows of his hood. At least that hid his hard smile.

"Your pardon, friend. My mind was lost in contemplation of the glory of the One." He chuckled gently. "But please, pater is too august a title for one such as I. I am but an itinerant friar. My name is Brother Bart." He spread his hands as the young soldier explained what other information was required, as if to say he had nothing to hide. "I come from the Western Kingdom. I hope you will not hold that against me, friend, in light of recent events. For my part, the affairs of the temporal world are of little concern to me. 'Nothing shall be placed before The One God, for He is all things,'" Arnholt quoted sagaciously. "As for my business here, I am on a pilgrimage of a sort. I wished to visit the Abbey of the Compassionate Heart."

Which was true enough, if rather far down on the list of things that Arnholt wanted to do in World's Court.
"And a confirmation that you do worship Dominicus, of course."
Arnholt raised an eyebrow at that, honestly puzzled at this last requirement. "To be sure, sir, I worship Dominicus, the one true God. Why? Are there a great many heathens who come to dwell in this city? I thought I had heard otherwise, my friend." He sketched the sign of the Eye in the air as if to ward off the pagan evil.
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

Antonio nodded as he memorized the information Arnholt, or rather Brother Bart, gave him. The legionnaire smiled at the quip about the Kingdom.
The Kingdom is nor our enemy, as long as they understand our wish to be free.

"Yes, they were nearly all gone, but a lot of pagans are coming here now", the young redcoat answered to the burglar monk last question.
"At least four this very morningtide. I suppose they also want to taste progress, who could blame them?"

"Now that we are a free city, we do not have to follow the King's edict, so they are welcome as long as they make no public trouble."
The young guard had more to say about favouring a more mixing in his town, but he caught himself before being heard talking politics in uniform.

Instead, he reviewed the information he was to give to his sergeant and turned again to Arnholt.
"The Western Kingdom, that is quite large. nearly all the continent around is the Kingdom. Could you be more specific about your origin, Brother?"
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Post by Arnholt »

"Who, indeed?" Arnholt echoed. "Still, I shall pray for their souls. That they may be drawn to the One true light."

The phony monk bobbed his head as if reassured by the redcoat's words about the pagans making no 'public trouble' in the city. His current train of thought, however, was running quite opposite to what the young soldier might have supposed. Pagans in World's Court, huh? A lot of pagans he says. That's... interesting.

More than just interesting, actually. The 'pagan' religions were a fascinating subject for Arnholt. He knew a little about them, yeah, but what he had learned as a good little Oneist mostly had to do with the heretics' theological errors and how their foolish ways should be avoided. Hell, Arnholt had been looking forward to bumping elbows with pagans in Nether's Gate. Hearing more about their gods and like that. Learning how their minds really worked, absent the lens of Dominicus' propaganda. Somehow he had never supposed that those things would be possible in World's Court. To him, this place had always just been the home of the Purificatio and such: Oneists who were fanatical even by his father's standards.

Huh. This town might just turn out to be a bit more fun than I had thought.


"Of course." The false monk bowed his head slightly at the soldier's last question. "Pray pardon my omission, sir. I hail from King's Court." He didn't see how any harm could befall from giving up that much of the truth. After all, King's Court was a pretty big place, too.
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Post by Guest »

"Dan-dangerous?" The little gnome looked startled for a second turning towards where Mala stood nearby and nervously fingering the reins. "No, no-nothing dangerous. Just some clothes and tools of my trade. Nothing else." Dugaylo kept shifting from one foot to the other and then took a deep breath and provided the answer the Sergeant sought. "My name is Dugaylo Kratky. I come from Roque d'Ancourt to open a shop here in the World's Mouth. I am a tailor or rather a seamster. You colleague there mentioned something about license to open shop. Can you please explain more. What needs be done to get permission for a shop here? And where I could get one and how much would be to purchase a shop?" He paused to draw breath and launched into another tirade of questions. "Is there a stable in the city? I need to put Mala away and keep her well fed? Oh, and an inn for a start so I can stay somewhere until I find a place to rent or buy. And..... Yes, somewhere nice to eat. And you would not happen to know a lady in need of a fashionable dress? I would be very grateful if you recommended me to someone. You would get a share of my profits."
Tilha O`Renimin
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Post by Tilha O`Renimin »

“King’s Court. Fine. Please follow me, brother”. The young redcoat led Arnholt to the scribe table, giving the mule a wide detour. Luckily, Mala kept calm while the older legionnaire checked her for hidden weapons, and gave none of the trouble the guards were expecting from a gnomish-owned mule.

Meanwhile, Jamie was busy dividing his attention beween his writing and Dugaylo long list of questions.
“Wow, one thing at a time please, signor. I still need your religion here.”

At the same time, this gnome looked pretty polite, and did show some of the entrepreneurial spirit that the One favoured in humans, so he deserved some answers. And his mule was trouble free, which was a good point this morningtide!
“For administrative questions, you’ll need to check at the Turcotte building, in Highton. I’m not in the business so I don’t know more. You’ll find Master Antique’s shop in the neighbourhood, if you want to start by working for someone else. He’s the one making our uniforms, but I know he also sells beautiful gowns.
For lodgings, most pag… I mean most non-humans, prefer the Lost Elf, in the Western Quarter. I bet they can find you some stables around there.”

A young guard murmured something to Jamie’s hear while he was waiting for the gnome answer, and the sergeant nodded. Apparently, the strange guy behind, whom it was difficult to tell if he was a thug or a monk, was going to be allowed a free pass.

OOC: Arnholt, you are now authorized to create another thread. Just remember to post once or twice more here to wrap this up.
Last edited by Tilha O`Renimin on Wed Jul 18, 2007 7:10 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Arnholt
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Post by Arnholt »

Arnholt trailed after the young soldier as bidden, his arms folded now with his cloak wrapped around him and his head still bowed ever so slightly. He was playing up the whole "monk" thing for all he was worth. Still, the big man's ears pricked up somewhat when he overhead the sergeant speaking of the lost elf. A pagan hang-out, huh? And popular among non-humans. For those reasons alone, the place sounded like it would be worth a look-see, if only for the sheer novelty value. But Arnholt kept quiet, supposing it wouldn't be in character for "Brother Bart" to display too much interest.

The false monk was pleasantly surprised to find that he was apparently going to be admitted with no further hassle. He flashed both of the redcoats a bland smile. "God save you, my friends. Perhaps I will see you at mass come Rasday." Well, Arnholt would definitely be there. He hoped not to spot any familiar faces however. It was a big city after all... for which Arnholt was just as glad.

Whistling his little tune of praise to Dominicus once more, Arnholt set off through the city gates without so much as a backwards glance. Actually, he couldn't risk one. One more look at the redcoats and he would have cracked up laughing for sure. They were searching a goddamned mule for hidden weapons? Idiots. Apparently claiming to be a monk really did give you a free pass. Setting aside his hidden lockpicks, it would have been a little awkward if the guards had discovered the knife hidden in "Brother Bart's" boot or the dagger at his belt or the other dagger in his bag. He would've had to claim to be a Gray Cloak or something. Arnholt didn't know of any other class of holy man who went around so heavily armed without actually being a soldier.

"Thanks for not ratting me out as a fake..." the false monk whispered, in softest tones, to Dominicus on high. "...you fucking old fart." And then he was gone.

OOC: And on into the city. Joy.:)
Morg
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Post by Morg »

Locked for (probably very minor) skilling due to player inactivity. :)

Thanks for the great job at the gates, Tilha! :D
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Post by Morg »

Skilled (for Arnholt) :)
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