At the Blue Anchor Inn
It seemed that at the moment, all roads led to Duke Esten.
"Very well," the messenger responded with a crisp bow, relieved to have finally fulfilled his mission. "I understand your wish for exclusivity - as you have surely guessed, Duke Esten is generous in rewarding those who serve him, and you do not wish to divide the spoils, as it were - but his lordship is not known for being a patient man. Deal with the refugees as you see fit. But do it quickly. His lordship does not like to be kept waiting, and if he feels you are not making adequate progress, you will find you have competitors."
With that, the messenger also departed to inform the duke of the agreement he had made.
Islands on Another World (GW2)
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- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Anakita Snakecharm
Knowing that her own talents did not lie in the realm of chatting up strangers for information in the city, Anakita volunteered herself and Stefan to go start setting up camp for the group. Under the circumstances, making themselves very visible in the city of Daggerfall seemed unwise, especially with so many elves in their group - and their party was certainly far from unobtrusive. Setting up camp a short distance from the city seemed their best bet; it would still attract some attention, that was inevitable, but it would be harder to observe the group's moves directly if someone had nefarious purposes in mind.
Sellia offered to help them, Gwindor trailed after his vampire sweetheart as expected, and Anakita tactfully (in her opinion) suggested that it might be a good idea for Drina and Angus to come along too, since a Daedra wandering the streets of Daggerfall would surely cause exactly the sort of commotion they didn't need... and beyond that, Anakita was still worried about the exceptionally aggressive order of priests who had cornered Angus in Leyawiin. They might have backed off for a time, but Anakita doubted they were done, especially with one of their leaders now dead and Angus surely - if unfairly - to be blamed for it.
It had been several days since Angus had slept out in the open, and Anakita could tell he was nervous. She didn't blame him, after everything that had happened and with everything that was still unresolved.
"We'd better put Angus in the middle when we make camp," she said nonchalantly. "In case anybody gets any dumb ideas about going after him again."
"Thanks," Angus said, his relief obvious on his face - but a bit ashamed of his fear.
"No problem. We've gotta protect our priest," Anakita said jovially, giving him a friendly bump with her shoulder. In a gentler tone, she added, "We've gotta protect our friend."
Angus smiled back at her.
It was undeniable how much his time in Coldharbour had affected him. Not just the cruelty and the endless abuse, but the mockery - he was just now starting to realize how much it had gotten under his skin. How it had changed the way he viewed himself, his perception of his own value, how it destroyed his sense of his own worth. It was a more insidious form of violence, so insidious he hadn't even noticed as it made the hateful words of his fellow priests feel expected and deserved. Angus hadn't realized how deeply it had wounded him... until it had started to heal.
It was, though - it was starting to heal. Surrounded by this circle of friends who cared so much for him, Angus could imagine a time when he would find himself again and feel completely safe in his own skin. It was an idyllic thought, but one that at this moment didn't seem so out of reach.
Knowing that her own talents did not lie in the realm of chatting up strangers for information in the city, Anakita volunteered herself and Stefan to go start setting up camp for the group. Under the circumstances, making themselves very visible in the city of Daggerfall seemed unwise, especially with so many elves in their group - and their party was certainly far from unobtrusive. Setting up camp a short distance from the city seemed their best bet; it would still attract some attention, that was inevitable, but it would be harder to observe the group's moves directly if someone had nefarious purposes in mind.
Sellia offered to help them, Gwindor trailed after his vampire sweetheart as expected, and Anakita tactfully (in her opinion) suggested that it might be a good idea for Drina and Angus to come along too, since a Daedra wandering the streets of Daggerfall would surely cause exactly the sort of commotion they didn't need... and beyond that, Anakita was still worried about the exceptionally aggressive order of priests who had cornered Angus in Leyawiin. They might have backed off for a time, but Anakita doubted they were done, especially with one of their leaders now dead and Angus surely - if unfairly - to be blamed for it.
It had been several days since Angus had slept out in the open, and Anakita could tell he was nervous. She didn't blame him, after everything that had happened and with everything that was still unresolved.
"We'd better put Angus in the middle when we make camp," she said nonchalantly. "In case anybody gets any dumb ideas about going after him again."
"Thanks," Angus said, his relief obvious on his face - but a bit ashamed of his fear.
"No problem. We've gotta protect our priest," Anakita said jovially, giving him a friendly bump with her shoulder. In a gentler tone, she added, "We've gotta protect our friend."
Angus smiled back at her.
It was undeniable how much his time in Coldharbour had affected him. Not just the cruelty and the endless abuse, but the mockery - he was just now starting to realize how much it had gotten under his skin. How it had changed the way he viewed himself, his perception of his own value, how it destroyed his sense of his own worth. It was a more insidious form of violence, so insidious he hadn't even noticed as it made the hateful words of his fellow priests feel expected and deserved. Angus hadn't realized how deeply it had wounded him... until it had started to heal.
It was, though - it was starting to heal. Surrounded by this circle of friends who cared so much for him, Angus could imagine a time when he would find himself again and feel completely safe in his own skin. It was an idyllic thought, but one that at this moment didn't seem so out of reach.
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Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Githia Acarra
The desperation among the leaders of the refugee group was increasing by the day. There was tension on every face, exhaustion in every gaze, and the constant question, either spoken aloud or held silently: Where can we go?
No one in the camp was laboring under the delusion that Duke Esten wanted them there. He had made that very clear, in words and in the increasing scuffles when his guards were sent to harry them and sabotage their supplies. In a sense, who could blame him - resources were scarce, and they were taking what belonged to him - but what else could they do?
The refugees were making scouting forays, going further and further to try to find hospitable land, but it seemed every piece of ground was utterly unsuitable terrain, lacking in any food or water source, plagued by some sort of danger or another... or already occupied.
There were nearly fifty of them. Too many were children, some without parents to look after them. Far too few had any fighting skill. Every day, some of the adults sported fresh bruises - and worse - from run-ins with Esten's guards.
But where else can we go?
The situation was becoming dire. Githia had walked for miles, scouting for any possible alternative where they could be safe for even a short time, when a familiar, agonizing pain in her head blurred her vision and dropped her to her knees. She knew her own days were numbered - perhaps even more so than the others. She needed to find them a home, using whatever time she had left.
She would not be in luck today, though. When the throbbing in her head had subsided enough to allow it, she staggered back to camp, with no choice but to report the results of yet another unsuccessful scouting trip.
The desperation among the leaders of the refugee group was increasing by the day. There was tension on every face, exhaustion in every gaze, and the constant question, either spoken aloud or held silently: Where can we go?
No one in the camp was laboring under the delusion that Duke Esten wanted them there. He had made that very clear, in words and in the increasing scuffles when his guards were sent to harry them and sabotage their supplies. In a sense, who could blame him - resources were scarce, and they were taking what belonged to him - but what else could they do?
The refugees were making scouting forays, going further and further to try to find hospitable land, but it seemed every piece of ground was utterly unsuitable terrain, lacking in any food or water source, plagued by some sort of danger or another... or already occupied.
There were nearly fifty of them. Too many were children, some without parents to look after them. Far too few had any fighting skill. Every day, some of the adults sported fresh bruises - and worse - from run-ins with Esten's guards.
But where else can we go?
The situation was becoming dire. Githia had walked for miles, scouting for any possible alternative where they could be safe for even a short time, when a familiar, agonizing pain in her head blurred her vision and dropped her to her knees. She knew her own days were numbered - perhaps even more so than the others. She needed to find them a home, using whatever time she had left.
She would not be in luck today, though. When the throbbing in her head had subsided enough to allow it, she staggered back to camp, with no choice but to report the results of yet another unsuccessful scouting trip.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Nairn Tuckamore
As much as she thought she was starting to get the hang of deciphering the thoughts and intentions of others, Nairn had clearly gotten something wrong. She turned her head from side to side, an unusually quizzical look on her normally neutral face. When Aimosh finished, she simply finished her soup and shrugged as she gathered her legs under her to rise.
"Strange story as she has an elf for a daughter."
Standing tall, eyeing the bodies moving past her with some suspicion, she felt the need to correct the elf on an additional matter.
"We do not intend to make friends with Esten. He will fail. So will the Dread Wolf. You will see...or you won't."
Nairn added the last bit in mimicry, she told herself. It did bother her that he thought they would side with a man inciting genocide, but not for her sake. She was accustomed to being misjudged. It was more for those who had reputations to ruin as she knew how hard it was to build a good one. Though perhaps, she was also mildly annoyed that someone might think they couldn't kill a god. A little bit of Norn pride, to be certain, but she felt that she had some significant history to back up her opinion - alternate history suggesting otherwise be damned.
As much as she thought she was starting to get the hang of deciphering the thoughts and intentions of others, Nairn had clearly gotten something wrong. She turned her head from side to side, an unusually quizzical look on her normally neutral face. When Aimosh finished, she simply finished her soup and shrugged as she gathered her legs under her to rise.
"Strange story as she has an elf for a daughter."
Standing tall, eyeing the bodies moving past her with some suspicion, she felt the need to correct the elf on an additional matter.
"We do not intend to make friends with Esten. He will fail. So will the Dread Wolf. You will see...or you won't."
Nairn added the last bit in mimicry, she told herself. It did bother her that he thought they would side with a man inciting genocide, but not for her sake. She was accustomed to being misjudged. It was more for those who had reputations to ruin as she knew how hard it was to build a good one. Though perhaps, she was also mildly annoyed that someone might think they couldn't kill a god. A little bit of Norn pride, to be certain, but she felt that she had some significant history to back up her opinion - alternate history suggesting otherwise be damned.
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- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Aimosh Meersh
Aimosh opened one eye. "Pfft," he said dismissively. "So you say."
He had seen the daughters around way back when - three of them. Two little black-haired copies of the mother and the redhead mage without hands. Rumor had it that a couple of the girls were adopted, but Aimosh had never been clear on exactly which ones because the dark haired pair looked so alike, nor had he ever cared enough to find out - and in any case, there was not a pointed ear in sight. Regardless of their origin, all three were clearly human. It was a just another lie, calculated with the assumption that he hadn't ever seen the children.
Very deliberately, he wrapped up in his blanket and turned away, signaling the conversation was at an end.
It continued to gnaw at the back of his mind, though. Aimosh wasn't quite sure why. Simple curiosity? Or a desire not to be taken for a fool?
After awhile he packed up his few goods, stowed them in his backpack, and pulled his cloak around him and his hat down.
He had intended to follow the healer for awhile, but she noticed him immediately - her and her soldier. Interesting that that one was still tagging along at her heels, when the others who had once followed her had gone their separate ways.
The healer turned to face him, her face open and relaxed, assuming he was another supplicant seeking her help. 'Pfft' indeed.
"Yer Worship," he said, tipping his hat, fully intending to keep walking.
She addressed him, though. "Please," she said with a smile. "There's no need for that. Just Tempest..."
"Inquisitor Trevelyan," he said instead, refusing to use such informalities.
The smile wavered a bit and she shook her head. "There's no Inquisition anymore, friend. And it's Rutherford now. But what can I do for you?" She looked a little closer, and he saw recognition dawn. "Aimosh? I haven't seen you in a long time. How have you fared? How did you get here?"
Aimosh had not expected to be recognized. It had not, in fact, crossed his mind that she would remember him at all. Of course they all remembered her, but surely they had been nothing to her, just a faceless mass of elven refugees, one the same as another?
"Farewell," Aimosh said abruptly, and disappeared into the crowd.
***
When he had gone, Tempest turned to Cullen and the rest of their gathering group. "Hm," she said. "That was odd."
Aimosh opened one eye. "Pfft," he said dismissively. "So you say."
He had seen the daughters around way back when - three of them. Two little black-haired copies of the mother and the redhead mage without hands. Rumor had it that a couple of the girls were adopted, but Aimosh had never been clear on exactly which ones because the dark haired pair looked so alike, nor had he ever cared enough to find out - and in any case, there was not a pointed ear in sight. Regardless of their origin, all three were clearly human. It was a just another lie, calculated with the assumption that he hadn't ever seen the children.
Very deliberately, he wrapped up in his blanket and turned away, signaling the conversation was at an end.
It continued to gnaw at the back of his mind, though. Aimosh wasn't quite sure why. Simple curiosity? Or a desire not to be taken for a fool?
After awhile he packed up his few goods, stowed them in his backpack, and pulled his cloak around him and his hat down.
He had intended to follow the healer for awhile, but she noticed him immediately - her and her soldier. Interesting that that one was still tagging along at her heels, when the others who had once followed her had gone their separate ways.
The healer turned to face him, her face open and relaxed, assuming he was another supplicant seeking her help. 'Pfft' indeed.
"Yer Worship," he said, tipping his hat, fully intending to keep walking.
She addressed him, though. "Please," she said with a smile. "There's no need for that. Just Tempest..."
"Inquisitor Trevelyan," he said instead, refusing to use such informalities.
The smile wavered a bit and she shook her head. "There's no Inquisition anymore, friend. And it's Rutherford now. But what can I do for you?" She looked a little closer, and he saw recognition dawn. "Aimosh? I haven't seen you in a long time. How have you fared? How did you get here?"
Aimosh had not expected to be recognized. It had not, in fact, crossed his mind that she would remember him at all. Of course they all remembered her, but surely they had been nothing to her, just a faceless mass of elven refugees, one the same as another?
"Farewell," Aimosh said abruptly, and disappeared into the crowd.
***
When he had gone, Tempest turned to Cullen and the rest of their gathering group. "Hm," she said. "That was odd."
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Nairn Tuckamore and Fira Nar
There were too many elves. No, that wasn't quite what she meant. There were too many types of elves from too many places. The connection between their worlds seemed to be getting stronger somehow with the threat to them all. Elves from the Rutherfords' world. Galenwen and her elves. A multitude of elves here. Was Duke Esten even aware of the elves from the other worlds? What would happen if he did find out? How similar were these elves to each other anyway? And, obliquely, if all these other worlds had elves, why didn't Tyria?
Nairn had read a few books about elves from this world, but really, the books had happened to contain elves simply because heroes existed amongst all races. They hadn't been terribly descriptive of what the writers must have assumed was basic knowledge. What she needed was a full picture so she could quiz the other elves on specifics to better make her comparisons. Why had Duke Esten picked elves out of all the available races in his world? More information could shed some light on both the immediate issue and the overlying one.
Leaving the densely packed alleyway behind her, Nairn took a moment to savour the comparative freedom of the open square. Her heart nearly stopped when she spotted the book cart. Convenient. She approached and began flipping through books, looking for something factual. On a whim, she dug to the bottom of the pile. People from here likely weren't looking for history books on their own world...and she was right. A dusty tome seemed to contain exactly the information she was looking for. Already reading, she put one of Julian's books onto the cart and started meandering away.
"Excuse me." From behind her, a strange note of surprise in the man's voice failed to catch her complete attention. "Excuse me!" A pause. Finally, a "Hey, you!" accompanied by a firm hand on her arm caused her to stop and turn. Nairn glared down at the man, who took a single step back before adding his explanation.
"You didn't pay for that!"
"I left a book." The Norn replied, and started to turn away, thinking the matter solved. She pulled her arm up and out of the way as the man made another grab for her elbow. This time, she pulled back her lips slightly and remade the statement with a bit more tooth showing. "I LEFT a book."
"You can't just TRADE a book for a book! That's ridiculous! You can't even do that at a library. What backwater are you from that you think...guards! Thief!"
Nairn had turned away in the middle of his tirade, fully intending to turn the other cheek and simply let things lie. His calling for the local authorities, however, made her stop on her own and turn toward him. The bookseller was already telling his story to a pair of plate-armoured men with pikes. She was at a loss as to what to do. She wanted the book. Needed it. She didn't have currency - so she left something in kind. What kind of a world didn't accept bartering as a form of trade?
The three men began their approach and Nairn felt her pulse deepen with each step. Should she just...leave? She certainly had opportunity, but she also knew that most people were aware of her attachment to the rest of her group. The last thing they needed was yet another obstacle in the way of achieving their multiplying goals - that obstacle being the local constabulary deciding they were part of the problem instead of the solution. However, she felt that any opportunity she had to explain her reasoning was likely far gone. A pity. She really did want this book.
"Whoa there, my good man. What seems to be the trouble here?"
The argonian appeared between her and the guards, holding up her clawed hand and giving them what Nairn assumed was a smile. Fira smelled like cheap booze and was giving her a glare out of one eye, but Nairn still found the woman's presence somehow comforting. The bookseller did not. He poked his head and hand between the guard's pauldrons, pointing at the offending Norn.
"SHE stole a book from me!"
"I gave him a book in return." Nairn muttered, shoulders hunching down as the likelihood of her being able to keep the book dissipated. There was nothing in their history that suggested that Fira might understand her motivations and side with her. Why had she felt better when the woman had arrived? What a waste of emotion. She probably should just cloak herself and make a run for it.
"She says she gave him a book in return - what, is bartering a lost art around here? I had heard that Daggerfall was a progressive city, but I didn't realize that meant anti-commerce." Fira's reply was casual, but contained exactly enough bite to garner the book seller's attention.
"Why...I mean...how do I know that the book left was a fair trade for the book taken? IF there was a book left, that is." the man blustered, squinting his eyes at Nairn with some amount of glee. It was clear he intended to have his own book back and keep hers too.
Nairn was clearly incensed by his accusation - that much was clear to Fira. Normally she couldn't read the stoic weird Nord's face at all, but her complexion had become suddenly rosy and she'd drawn herself up to her full height. That...couldn't be good. For the book man. For the guards. For their reputation...
"Hey, show me what book you left. We can get this sorted out." Fira's voice was gentle. She stood between the men and Nairn, her back to them, her arm out as if she alone could keep the distance between the two parties. It was enough to guide Nairn around the bristling guards, though, and toward the book cart.
As she reached for the familiar book, the book seller yelled, "Ah ah! No touching. That book is probably mine." Nairn stopped and glared at him, still clutching the new book firmly against her body.
"Probably?" said one of the guards, narrowly. He was beginning to tire of this dance. There were much bigger problems in the city than a stolen book and he was losing his patience.
"I uh, got some new stock recently. I can't read everything I sell, you know. At any rate, she can't prove that's her book and I SAW her take the one in her hand. She's a thief! Just arrest her already."
The little man was starting to sweat. Fira was sweating too because she wasn't sure if her gamble was going to pay off.
"She can prove it's her book." All eyes turned to her, Nairn's included. "Good sir, pick up the book, turn it to a page and read the first line. She'll finish the page because it's her book and she knows it well." Fira swallowed hard, but kept her chin up high, challenging the book keeper to top that. Gods she hoped the crazy scholar was as smart as everyone thought she was.
One of the guards paused, then handed his pike to his companion. The book seller made to protest, but he held up a hand even as he picked up the book. "No, this seems fair. If even you don't know what you have in stock, then if she can recite this book by heart, it is very likely that the book belongs to the Nord."
"Norn." grunted Nairn. Fira elbowed her.
The guard opened the book, looked down at the page, and began reading aloud. "Sir Chauncy crept into the next room, sword bare, moonlight glinting off the sharp blade."
"The same light bathed the maiden in a gentle glow. Her breasts heaving underneath her thin shrift as she lay sleeping on the couch in the window. He felt himself harden as he looked upon her. She woke, supple lips parting in surprise, her ni..." Nairn's voice had no intonation, but the small group still seemed to be mesmerized all the same.
"Different page!" Fira suddenly burst out. The spell broken, all eyes turned to her. She was rosy and breathing fast, looking like she'd just accidentally awoken a giant snake and was ready to bolt. The guard with the book smirked at her and she immediately dropped her brow and growled at him. "Pick. A different. PAGE."
"You know what, it's fine! I believe her. Um...please forgive my surprise...we don't generally do book exchanges. But just this once..."
The seller made to snatch the book out of the guard's hand, but the guard pulled it out of reach, reading to himself. The other guard put a hand on the merchant's shoulder, quietly suggesting that they be compensated for their time. Fira took this as an opportunity to leave. She gestured at Nairn with her palms upright and the Norn obliged. Nairn had rather thought she was owed more of an apology than that, but she was willing to take her book and go.
"Please never do that again." Fira whispered as they stepped through the square. Nairn merely grunted. She was busy reading, after all.
There were too many elves. No, that wasn't quite what she meant. There were too many types of elves from too many places. The connection between their worlds seemed to be getting stronger somehow with the threat to them all. Elves from the Rutherfords' world. Galenwen and her elves. A multitude of elves here. Was Duke Esten even aware of the elves from the other worlds? What would happen if he did find out? How similar were these elves to each other anyway? And, obliquely, if all these other worlds had elves, why didn't Tyria?
Nairn had read a few books about elves from this world, but really, the books had happened to contain elves simply because heroes existed amongst all races. They hadn't been terribly descriptive of what the writers must have assumed was basic knowledge. What she needed was a full picture so she could quiz the other elves on specifics to better make her comparisons. Why had Duke Esten picked elves out of all the available races in his world? More information could shed some light on both the immediate issue and the overlying one.
Leaving the densely packed alleyway behind her, Nairn took a moment to savour the comparative freedom of the open square. Her heart nearly stopped when she spotted the book cart. Convenient. She approached and began flipping through books, looking for something factual. On a whim, she dug to the bottom of the pile. People from here likely weren't looking for history books on their own world...and she was right. A dusty tome seemed to contain exactly the information she was looking for. Already reading, she put one of Julian's books onto the cart and started meandering away.
"Excuse me." From behind her, a strange note of surprise in the man's voice failed to catch her complete attention. "Excuse me!" A pause. Finally, a "Hey, you!" accompanied by a firm hand on her arm caused her to stop and turn. Nairn glared down at the man, who took a single step back before adding his explanation.
"You didn't pay for that!"
"I left a book." The Norn replied, and started to turn away, thinking the matter solved. She pulled her arm up and out of the way as the man made another grab for her elbow. This time, she pulled back her lips slightly and remade the statement with a bit more tooth showing. "I LEFT a book."
"You can't just TRADE a book for a book! That's ridiculous! You can't even do that at a library. What backwater are you from that you think...guards! Thief!"
Nairn had turned away in the middle of his tirade, fully intending to turn the other cheek and simply let things lie. His calling for the local authorities, however, made her stop on her own and turn toward him. The bookseller was already telling his story to a pair of plate-armoured men with pikes. She was at a loss as to what to do. She wanted the book. Needed it. She didn't have currency - so she left something in kind. What kind of a world didn't accept bartering as a form of trade?
The three men began their approach and Nairn felt her pulse deepen with each step. Should she just...leave? She certainly had opportunity, but she also knew that most people were aware of her attachment to the rest of her group. The last thing they needed was yet another obstacle in the way of achieving their multiplying goals - that obstacle being the local constabulary deciding they were part of the problem instead of the solution. However, she felt that any opportunity she had to explain her reasoning was likely far gone. A pity. She really did want this book.
"Whoa there, my good man. What seems to be the trouble here?"
The argonian appeared between her and the guards, holding up her clawed hand and giving them what Nairn assumed was a smile. Fira smelled like cheap booze and was giving her a glare out of one eye, but Nairn still found the woman's presence somehow comforting. The bookseller did not. He poked his head and hand between the guard's pauldrons, pointing at the offending Norn.
"SHE stole a book from me!"
"I gave him a book in return." Nairn muttered, shoulders hunching down as the likelihood of her being able to keep the book dissipated. There was nothing in their history that suggested that Fira might understand her motivations and side with her. Why had she felt better when the woman had arrived? What a waste of emotion. She probably should just cloak herself and make a run for it.
"She says she gave him a book in return - what, is bartering a lost art around here? I had heard that Daggerfall was a progressive city, but I didn't realize that meant anti-commerce." Fira's reply was casual, but contained exactly enough bite to garner the book seller's attention.
"Why...I mean...how do I know that the book left was a fair trade for the book taken? IF there was a book left, that is." the man blustered, squinting his eyes at Nairn with some amount of glee. It was clear he intended to have his own book back and keep hers too.
Nairn was clearly incensed by his accusation - that much was clear to Fira. Normally she couldn't read the stoic weird Nord's face at all, but her complexion had become suddenly rosy and she'd drawn herself up to her full height. That...couldn't be good. For the book man. For the guards. For their reputation...
"Hey, show me what book you left. We can get this sorted out." Fira's voice was gentle. She stood between the men and Nairn, her back to them, her arm out as if she alone could keep the distance between the two parties. It was enough to guide Nairn around the bristling guards, though, and toward the book cart.
As she reached for the familiar book, the book seller yelled, "Ah ah! No touching. That book is probably mine." Nairn stopped and glared at him, still clutching the new book firmly against her body.
"Probably?" said one of the guards, narrowly. He was beginning to tire of this dance. There were much bigger problems in the city than a stolen book and he was losing his patience.
"I uh, got some new stock recently. I can't read everything I sell, you know. At any rate, she can't prove that's her book and I SAW her take the one in her hand. She's a thief! Just arrest her already."
The little man was starting to sweat. Fira was sweating too because she wasn't sure if her gamble was going to pay off.
"She can prove it's her book." All eyes turned to her, Nairn's included. "Good sir, pick up the book, turn it to a page and read the first line. She'll finish the page because it's her book and she knows it well." Fira swallowed hard, but kept her chin up high, challenging the book keeper to top that. Gods she hoped the crazy scholar was as smart as everyone thought she was.
One of the guards paused, then handed his pike to his companion. The book seller made to protest, but he held up a hand even as he picked up the book. "No, this seems fair. If even you don't know what you have in stock, then if she can recite this book by heart, it is very likely that the book belongs to the Nord."
"Norn." grunted Nairn. Fira elbowed her.
The guard opened the book, looked down at the page, and began reading aloud. "Sir Chauncy crept into the next room, sword bare, moonlight glinting off the sharp blade."
"The same light bathed the maiden in a gentle glow. Her breasts heaving underneath her thin shrift as she lay sleeping on the couch in the window. He felt himself harden as he looked upon her. She woke, supple lips parting in surprise, her ni..." Nairn's voice had no intonation, but the small group still seemed to be mesmerized all the same.
"Different page!" Fira suddenly burst out. The spell broken, all eyes turned to her. She was rosy and breathing fast, looking like she'd just accidentally awoken a giant snake and was ready to bolt. The guard with the book smirked at her and she immediately dropped her brow and growled at him. "Pick. A different. PAGE."
"You know what, it's fine! I believe her. Um...please forgive my surprise...we don't generally do book exchanges. But just this once..."
The seller made to snatch the book out of the guard's hand, but the guard pulled it out of reach, reading to himself. The other guard put a hand on the merchant's shoulder, quietly suggesting that they be compensated for their time. Fira took this as an opportunity to leave. She gestured at Nairn with her palms upright and the Norn obliged. Nairn had rather thought she was owed more of an apology than that, but she was willing to take her book and go.
"Please never do that again." Fira whispered as they stepped through the square. Nairn merely grunted. She was busy reading, after all.
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- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Aimosh Meersh
As he walked away, Aimosh realized what he had to do. Things in Glenumbra were too dangerous for elves already. They couldn't risk another threat.
He knew where to find Farsight. Not all the elves did, but Aimosh knew a lot, always had his ear to the ground, always digging. He and Nairn had that in common. Aimosh didn't have to go far to reach the one he sought.
"We have a problem," he said to the elf rebel leader without preamble. "Another elf killer."
The leader's face was hidden by a hood, but the voice that issued from beneath was calm and clear. "Tell me."
And Aimosh did. As he spoke, the emotions tumbled out. Anger. Fear. Helplessness.
Farsight listened. Then nodded. "I'll have it taken care of."
"Thank you," Aimosh replied. His heart felt heavy at what he had done; he was well aware that he had just signed someone's death warrant. A cold necessity, but a necessity none the less. He thought of the dead girl - Rashel, he would never forget her name and face - and muttered a prayer of gratitude to the old gods that at least she would have some measure of justice.
As he walked away, Aimosh realized what he had to do. Things in Glenumbra were too dangerous for elves already. They couldn't risk another threat.
He knew where to find Farsight. Not all the elves did, but Aimosh knew a lot, always had his ear to the ground, always digging. He and Nairn had that in common. Aimosh didn't have to go far to reach the one he sought.
"We have a problem," he said to the elf rebel leader without preamble. "Another elf killer."
The leader's face was hidden by a hood, but the voice that issued from beneath was calm and clear. "Tell me."
And Aimosh did. As he spoke, the emotions tumbled out. Anger. Fear. Helplessness.
Farsight listened. Then nodded. "I'll have it taken care of."
"Thank you," Aimosh replied. His heart felt heavy at what he had done; he was well aware that he had just signed someone's death warrant. A cold necessity, but a necessity none the less. He thought of the dead girl - Rashel, he would never forget her name and face - and muttered a prayer of gratitude to the old gods that at least she would have some measure of justice.
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Nairn Tuckamore and Fira Nar
They'd walked through the rest of town and into the surrounding forest in silence. Fira alternated between stewing in annoyance with the paper-swindling Norn and chewing her lip in anxiety over the job she'd just taken. Of course she wasn't going to go in there and kill a bunch of refugees - she intended to help them - but now she was worried that she might have bitten off more than she could chew with this particular endeavour. Who was she to think she could just swoop in and...
"Thank-you."
The words were said so quietly, she'd almost missed them. Still, Fira turned to look at Nairn and said eloquently, "Huh?"
The glass-green eye slid over to peer around the edge of the book at the Argonian. Squinting slightly as if trying to decide if Fira had genuinely not heard or if she was just fishing. In the end, the eye didn't get to dictate what came out of the mouth and a second, "Thank-you." was spoken with a degree of firmness to ensure she would not again be misheard.
"Oh, uh. Sure? Don't mention it? I mean, the book thing, that is. All this time I thought you were reading smart people books not...um..."
Fira trailed off, realizing her rudeness, but also still feeling a bit entitled to the answer. This 'scholar' had been walking around all smart and she had memorized some smutty copper piece novel? Silence prevailed once more. Oh, she'd stepped in it this time. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She shivered in the perceived frostiness suddenly present in the air.
The quietness of the company was broken up by the sound of a camp being made just ahead of them. Pounding of mallet on tent pegs. Kindling falling against each other as the pile grew with steady chops of a hatchet. A whiff of smoke hung on the breeze from a newly-lit fire. Forgetting her situation for a moment, she smiled. She loved an outdoor fire.
"Research."
"Huh?" Fira said, looking up, Nairn's exasperated sigh informing her that she'd once again spoken without thinking. "Oh, I mean...of course. That makes sense."
Nairn shook her head and lengthened her stride, leaving Fira behind. As she arrived in camp she managed a nod to whomever seemed to notice her arrival, but then tucked herself up into the crook of a tree with the book on her knees.
Fira pushed through the undergrowth shortly after, huffing a bit with the effort to keep up with the long-legged Norn. Unlike her hiking companion, she greeted everyone warmly and set about helping with whatever was left undone.
"Found some stuff out in town today. Gonna wait until everyone's here to say, but we kinda...well I might have...there's some people in trouble and I kinda said I'd take care of it hoping you know that we'd take care of it even though we already have a bunch of stuff to take care of it just didn't seem right to leave some refugees in a bind, you know?"
So much for waiting.
They'd walked through the rest of town and into the surrounding forest in silence. Fira alternated between stewing in annoyance with the paper-swindling Norn and chewing her lip in anxiety over the job she'd just taken. Of course she wasn't going to go in there and kill a bunch of refugees - she intended to help them - but now she was worried that she might have bitten off more than she could chew with this particular endeavour. Who was she to think she could just swoop in and...
"Thank-you."
The words were said so quietly, she'd almost missed them. Still, Fira turned to look at Nairn and said eloquently, "Huh?"
The glass-green eye slid over to peer around the edge of the book at the Argonian. Squinting slightly as if trying to decide if Fira had genuinely not heard or if she was just fishing. In the end, the eye didn't get to dictate what came out of the mouth and a second, "Thank-you." was spoken with a degree of firmness to ensure she would not again be misheard.
"Oh, uh. Sure? Don't mention it? I mean, the book thing, that is. All this time I thought you were reading smart people books not...um..."
Fira trailed off, realizing her rudeness, but also still feeling a bit entitled to the answer. This 'scholar' had been walking around all smart and she had memorized some smutty copper piece novel? Silence prevailed once more. Oh, she'd stepped in it this time. She should have just kept her mouth shut. She shivered in the perceived frostiness suddenly present in the air.
The quietness of the company was broken up by the sound of a camp being made just ahead of them. Pounding of mallet on tent pegs. Kindling falling against each other as the pile grew with steady chops of a hatchet. A whiff of smoke hung on the breeze from a newly-lit fire. Forgetting her situation for a moment, she smiled. She loved an outdoor fire.
"Research."
"Huh?" Fira said, looking up, Nairn's exasperated sigh informing her that she'd once again spoken without thinking. "Oh, I mean...of course. That makes sense."
Nairn shook her head and lengthened her stride, leaving Fira behind. As she arrived in camp she managed a nod to whomever seemed to notice her arrival, but then tucked herself up into the crook of a tree with the book on her knees.
Fira pushed through the undergrowth shortly after, huffing a bit with the effort to keep up with the long-legged Norn. Unlike her hiking companion, she greeted everyone warmly and set about helping with whatever was left undone.
"Found some stuff out in town today. Gonna wait until everyone's here to say, but we kinda...well I might have...there's some people in trouble and I kinda said I'd take care of it hoping you know that we'd take care of it even though we already have a bunch of stuff to take care of it just didn't seem right to leave some refugees in a bind, you know?"
So much for waiting.
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- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Tempest Rutherford
There was some shuffling around of personnel as Anakita, Stefan, and Angus traveled to the market in the city to direct those who had not yet been to the camp to the location that had been chosen, as well as to purchase supplies - a regular need for a traveling group as large as theirs.
By the time Fira and Nairn arrived back at the camp, the original group from the city was back too.
Tempest listened to Fira - observed the pressured, rushed, nervous way she spoke - and laid a gentle hand on the Argonian's shoulder.
"Of course we'll help," the mage said reassuringly. "I'm sure no one here would want to leave refugees unaided if there's something we can do. What do they need us to do?"
The question was merely for clarification of logistics, not potential refusal of the request. Tempest was as committed as Fira was to helping those in need, and there was no argument from anyone else either.
"More elves, I assume?" Cullen queried conversationally.
There was some shuffling around of personnel as Anakita, Stefan, and Angus traveled to the market in the city to direct those who had not yet been to the camp to the location that had been chosen, as well as to purchase supplies - a regular need for a traveling group as large as theirs.
By the time Fira and Nairn arrived back at the camp, the original group from the city was back too.
Tempest listened to Fira - observed the pressured, rushed, nervous way she spoke - and laid a gentle hand on the Argonian's shoulder.
"Of course we'll help," the mage said reassuringly. "I'm sure no one here would want to leave refugees unaided if there's something we can do. What do they need us to do?"
The question was merely for clarification of logistics, not potential refusal of the request. Tempest was as committed as Fira was to helping those in need, and there was no argument from anyone else either.
"More elves, I assume?" Cullen queried conversationally.
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- Joined: Thu Oct 29, 2020 7:31 pm
Re: Islands on Another World (GW2)
Aimosh and Angus
Aimosh had done the right thing.
He knew he had.
So why was his heart so troubled over it?
In a daze, he wandered the market, eyes sliding over the familiar stalls and carts of wares without really seeing them.
He needed... something. But what? Absolution? No, absolution required guilt, and he had none. Did he? Punishing the wicked was a righteous act. The Chantry and all the other religious pontificators he had never really paid much attention to - wasn't that what they were always saying?
Maybe that was what he needed. Yes. Not absolution, but... certainty.
To the extent Aimosh followed any religion at all, he believed in the ancient Elven gods. There was power there - that was indisputable. But certainty? That was generally rather lacking. For that he would have to go to a different faith - the kind with stone churches and scripture books and hymns. It didn't even matter what the religion believed, really. All he needed was someone more steadfast in their faith than he was in... whatever it was he had faith in, himself.
The first priest he spotted would do as well as any. "Father...?" he asked, taking a guess at the title. These priestly types always seemed to want to be addressed parentally. "Might I have a word?"
"Of course," Angus replied, surprised - both to be addressed, and that he stood out enough in borrowed vestments to be of note to a stranger.
"Father, is it always wrong to kill someone? Or to have them killed?"
Angus was taken up rather short. "Well... it depends," he said finally.
"On what?" Aimosh replied. There was no hint of confrontation in his voice, but his eyes blazed with a strange intensity.
"Well, on the circumstances," Angus ventured, still feeling out of his depth. "I don't think any god would condemn you for fighting back to preserve your own life, say, or to defend the life of an innocent. Murder, though, is another matter..."
Aimosh nodded, as if something was confirmed, and started to walk away.
"Wait a moment!" Angus called after him. "Let's... talk about this more. Somewhere quiet, yes?"
The priest knew very well that he might have just volunteered to be alone with a murderer. But something told him to dig deeper. Perhaps this was not what it seemed. Perhaps a man who cared enough to ask a priest to bless his crimes might still have enough soul left to be saved.
Aimosh had done the right thing.
He knew he had.
So why was his heart so troubled over it?
In a daze, he wandered the market, eyes sliding over the familiar stalls and carts of wares without really seeing them.
He needed... something. But what? Absolution? No, absolution required guilt, and he had none. Did he? Punishing the wicked was a righteous act. The Chantry and all the other religious pontificators he had never really paid much attention to - wasn't that what they were always saying?
Maybe that was what he needed. Yes. Not absolution, but... certainty.
To the extent Aimosh followed any religion at all, he believed in the ancient Elven gods. There was power there - that was indisputable. But certainty? That was generally rather lacking. For that he would have to go to a different faith - the kind with stone churches and scripture books and hymns. It didn't even matter what the religion believed, really. All he needed was someone more steadfast in their faith than he was in... whatever it was he had faith in, himself.
The first priest he spotted would do as well as any. "Father...?" he asked, taking a guess at the title. These priestly types always seemed to want to be addressed parentally. "Might I have a word?"
"Of course," Angus replied, surprised - both to be addressed, and that he stood out enough in borrowed vestments to be of note to a stranger.
"Father, is it always wrong to kill someone? Or to have them killed?"
Angus was taken up rather short. "Well... it depends," he said finally.
"On what?" Aimosh replied. There was no hint of confrontation in his voice, but his eyes blazed with a strange intensity.
"Well, on the circumstances," Angus ventured, still feeling out of his depth. "I don't think any god would condemn you for fighting back to preserve your own life, say, or to defend the life of an innocent. Murder, though, is another matter..."
Aimosh nodded, as if something was confirmed, and started to walk away.
"Wait a moment!" Angus called after him. "Let's... talk about this more. Somewhere quiet, yes?"
The priest knew very well that he might have just volunteered to be alone with a murderer. But something told him to dig deeper. Perhaps this was not what it seemed. Perhaps a man who cared enough to ask a priest to bless his crimes might still have enough soul left to be saved.