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The Belching Boar is a modest inn and tavern that doesn't appear very remarkable, but is particularly respected by the hunters and gatherers in the region as a place where drifters are welcome. The building is log cabin built from rough hewn cedar with a small second story reaching up over the common room. The barkeep, a balding human by the name of Matthias, asks everyone entering to please keep quiet, as there's an important meeting upstairs today. When he hears that you are attending this meeting, he blinks for a moment, then points toward a ladder that is attached to the back of the brick fireplace. "Sheriff said there'd be a few arriving by now, but he had to tend to something quick like. Food is all layed out upstairs. Help yourself till he gets back."
A single elven man is sleeping slumped over the bar, and a gentle murmur is audible from a table in the back where two human men are speaking as their steaming bowls of stew cool down.
Weary from this long trip, Nial climbs up the ladder and sits down on a bench, helping himself on the food without waiting anyone.
Nial has the massive built common in his family and even sitting, he looks too tall for the surrounding furniture. In the dim light, his brown eyes sometime seem to lit with a fiery golden light. His leather armor is heavily singed by his work at the forge and resting at his feet lies a large smith hammer.
She was nearly spent from the walk when Brine stepped into the Belching Boar. Damn....almost empty guess no fun for the evening only work. The barkeep motioned her toward the ladder. As she walked to the back she gives the elf at the bar a quick scan and the men at the table a glance and then makes her way up the ladder.
Food ah now im glad I came. Brine tears into the food and for the first time realizes how hungry she is. She looks over at the other man and smiles through a mouthfull of food. This is good eaten dont hold back on my account she then pulls up a seat and waits for her mark to arrive.
Leaving his gear with Arness the apothecary Bolt meanders his way over to the .
He wonders why anybody would impair their abilities with drink when it seems the world is always out to get you. Much safer with water and the wilderness.
With a mental shrug he enters, and looks around cautiously. After speaking with the barkeep he shoulders his spear and climbs the stairs.
Average height but broad of shoulders he is a weathered young outdoorsman. Dressed in soft leather studded with bone, he has a steel dagger on his right hip, a spear on his back and a set of 3 wooden spheres linked with a leather braid hanging from his left hip.
Pausing at the top when he notices the other occupants, he gives them each a glance, then grabs some food and scoots a chair around so he can sit facing them over the back of it. Supposed to meet the sherrif. He mumbles around a mouthful of bread. Anyone seen him?
Merle walks into the Belching Boar quietly.
Taking in the uncrowded bar with a glance he wanders over to Matthias. "Hey Matt, sup? Still doing okay on firewater? We got a new batch coming up in a couple days if you need."
Goal: Resource access.
Target: Sheriff Llewellyn
-------Sheriff: ex. Shire Reeve. A civil officer within feudal establishments, primarily tasked with the enforcement of judicial enactments, e.g. Tax collection.
Data: Subject observed recruiting individuals to assist in the performance of his duties. Remuneration is typically tacit in said agreements. See deputization. See Posse (informal).
The man who enters the Boar stops in the entrance and casts his gaze over the area and all the assembled locals. He is tall and solidly enough built, but by no means a large man. Shoulder length white hair nearly glows in the dimness of the interior, so stark is the colour. The eyes that sweep the room are so pale a blue as to be almost silver, or perhaps white. Tattoos seem to cover his skin. Blue geometric designs seem to creep up his neck, intermixed with runes and indecipherable script. He stands for a moment taking things in. Upon hearing the instruction that the men meeting he sheriff are to go up the ladder, he moves in that direction without a word.
Once in the upper room he looks the three that had assembled thee before him. When none challenges him, he moves to the table. He takes a plate of food and starts eating without comment.
Mokrim sauntered into the Boar with a confident air, that confidence perhaps stemming from the longsword prominent at his hip, or perhaps simply from the fact that he was young and full of himself. He seemed almost disappointed when his black leather armor that marked him as an enforcer from Oakenhaven drew no comment.
He climbed the ladder and joined the others at the long table, a swagger in his step and a ready grin on his lips. Lean but broad-shouldered, he moved like someone who knew how to use the weapon he carried. He was a handsome young man with sharp blue eyes and black hair that was just a bit shaggy, and he perked up when he saw Brine eating and settled next to her.
"Hey there, folks," he said amiably enough as he took some food, his gaze roaming over those assembled. "Anyone heard what the Sheriff called the meeting for?"
Damn, swears Niall recognising the Oakhaven uniform then the bearer. One of Dashiel crownies. What is he doing here? I better make sure he's not up to something.
"Have a seat, Mokrim", says Niall casually. "I did not realize you were invited there. We could have traveled together."
Kearan walks into the bar, his face with just a hint of stubble around the goatee he wears, a hint of dirt and dust on his simple clothing and skin. He grins to Matthias, clasps his wrist in greeting, and heads up the stairs when he hears that's the meeting place.
Despite the size of Nial and Merle, Kearan towers over them. Tall and broad, he seems to be all muscle and bone, with little if any fat about him. Still, he moves lithely enough, and has an easygoing look on his face.
"How's everybody doing?" he asks, spinning a chair around and sitting on it similarly to Bolt. "Here on old Llewellyn's request, eh?"
He glances over at the food, but doesn't move to get any.
Bolt jumps slightly in suprise when he sees Mokrim enter the loft. A look of anger contorts his face for a moment, then relaxes slightly into a grimace of distaste as he looks closer at the Oakenhaven youth.
"Lost my appetite."he grumbles, then tosses his food back on the table. He then slides his chair back to the edge of the room, and sits sullenly looking at the floor.
"Have a seat, Mokrim", says Niall casually. "I did not realize you were invited there. We could have traveled together."
Mokrim waved a lazy hand. "I had some last-minute leavetaking to do, if you know what I mean," he said with a wink at Nial. Jovial though his tone was, his eyes were measuring each of the others present. It was an uncomfortable reminder for Nial of Armistead himself. Still, Mokrim had never been among those who tried to bully him when he'd first arrived at Oakenhaven. But then, Mokrim's star was rising in that town... who knew what he was really up to here.
Bolt jumps slightly in suprise when he sees Mokrim enter the loft. A look of anger contorts his face for a moment, then relaxes slightly into a grimace of distaste as he looks closer at the Oakenhaven youth.
"Lost my appetite."he grumbles, then tosses his food back on the table. He then slides his chair back to the edge of the room, and sits sullenly looking at the floor.
Mokrim's smile faded when he saw Bolt, and he seemed uncharacteristically subdued as he continued eating.
Huh, haven't seen him in a good long while. I wonder what really happened that night... not what Armistead says, if his face is any indicator. I'll have to watch him...
"How's everybody doing?" he asks, spinning a chair around and sitting on it similarly to Bolt. "Here on old Llewellyn's request, eh?"
He glances over at the food, but doesn't move to get any.
Mokrim waved a greeting to Kearan, tossing him a roll of bread. "Hey, shorty! Looks like this gathering has brains AND brawn now," he laughed, not put off by Bolt's grumpiness for long.
Bolt jumps slightly in suprise when he sees Mokrim enter the loft. A look of anger contorts his face for a moment, then relaxes slightly into a grimace of distaste as he looks closer at the Oakenhaven youth.
"Lost my appetite."he grumbles, then tosses his food back on the table. He then slides his chair back to the edge of the room, and sits sullenly looking at the floor.
The tattooed man looks over a Bolt, face serious and eyes unblinking.
"Loss of apatite can be a sign of physical infirmity. Do you require medical assistance?"
Kearan catches the roll from mid-air and places it on the table before him. "Not that you supply either yourself, of course," he grins back. "You here on the invite? How far did Llewellyn go, and how low did he stoop?" Kearan still smiles, all of this in jest.
Mokrim chuckled with his mouth full at Kearan's jests. "Brains, brawn - bah! I've got charisma," he brazenly lied. "I was invited, all right, but not by Llewellyn. I guess he's out digging deeper, and that's why he's late. Dunno how much lower than you he could find, though." He grinned.
He turned to give the tattooed man a curious look. Hmm... he doesn't seem like he's from around here, with that fancy talk. "Who are you, friend? Are you some kind of sawbones?"
"Sawbones? Slang. Churgeon. Term for a primitive medical professional. Derived from the practice of using amputation to treat injuries to the extremities. Performed by applying a tourniquet, resecting the soft tissue and using a saw to cut through the bone."
"Are you in need of this service? I am not a Sawbones, but I have knowledge of the procedure and can perform it if necessary."
"Uh, no thanks. I like my bones the way they are." And even if they were broken, I don't think I'd let you saw them off!
Nonplussed by the stranger's manner, he muttered to himself, "Well, I guess somebody's got to put the strange in stranger." Still, the man sounded well-educated, even if he was odd. Maybe he knew something about this big mystery they were gathered to hear about.
Mokrim held out his hand. "I'm Mokrim. What's your name, friend?"
"691. When first I introduced myself I was asked about the nature of the name, and I noted that the (my) designation is prime. The farmfolk assumed this was my true title and since taken to calling me such. Therefore, you may call me Prime."
"If we are in fact now friends, perhaps you could tell me the nature of the services with which Sheriff Llewellyn wishes assistance. I am hoping my skills and abilities will prove useful to the man and thus garner me employment."
Mokrim laughed, shaking his head, and lowered his hand. "I guess none of us knows, Prime. It's a real mystery." He began to eat again, noting how Prime's tattoos seemed to cover his skin. Speaking of mysteries...
"If you don't mind me asking, where are you from, since you had to introduce yourself here? You don't speak like anyone else I know."
"I am not presently aware of the details regarding my origin. I came online 19 days ago, and have as of yet been able to learn anything regarding that event. As of yet, I have not encountered anyone who is familiar with me. I wish to discover this information, but as of yet lack the resources to dedicate myself to achieving this goal. This is why I am presently seeking employment."
"Where are you from, Mokrim?"
Now Mokrim was really curious.
"Are you saying you don't know where you're from?" he broke out incredulously. "And what do you mean by coming on the line? What line is that?"
He leaned back so that Prime could get a better look at his armor. When this elicited no recognition, he blinked in amazement. "I'm from Oakenhaven. You know, the other town?"
"Yes, Oakenhaven. I have heard of the community. One of two main remaining settlements. Oakenhaven is reputed to be an effective place to acquire contraband and stolen merchandise. Personal safety is not guaranteed upon visitation and altercations are said to be frequent. I have not had cause to visit as of yet."
"Online. It refers to becoming aware. You might say, 'Woke up'. I am not aware of anything that happened prior to waking up 19 days ago. As of yet, I have been unable to find any indication of my origin. Do you like Oakenhaven?"
"Buddy, you must have been rolled hard if you don't even know where you're from or anything," Mokrim said, looking a bit impressed.
He smiled crookedly at Prime's question. "Oakenhaven isn't all it can be, just yet," he replied evasively. He raised a mug of ale in toast. "But all that's going to change."
Bolt looks at Prime 691 in confusion for a second." what is 'medical' assis...?" he starts to ask then trails off as Mokrim and Prime exchange words.
He speaks so oddly I wonder where he's from. Not sure I want any of this 'medical' stuff tho.
Bolt leans back against the wall and crosses his wrists over the back of the chair in front of him.
Wonder what the Sheriff wants with all of us, kind of a strange mix.
Kearan just shakes his head at the exchange between Prime and Mokrim. Curious fella...
"Hey," Kearan says on impulse, tapping Prime on the shoulder. "Maybe you should come by my house later. I can introduce you to the family, and show you the library."
The big man tries to remember if he's read anything about "coming on line" and that sort of thing.
Brine took in each of the invitees as they entered and sized them up subconsciously. When Mokrim takes a seat next to her she glances at him and then continues to finish her meal. Well met to all of you the name is Brine. I am not sure really why i was invited here but it is good to meet you all Turning to Mokrim she gives him a slight nod, It seems you know a lot of these folks here. I am a stranger in town you mind showin me around when this is done?...and the strange monotone fellow named Prime..
..
may be afflicted with Amnesia. Meaning he may have been bashed so hard in the head he cant remember pretty much anything. I have seen it happen to the sharpest of warriors and they say it is almost like "waking up" and not knowing what the hell is going on.
As she speaks she loosens her cloak and drops it low revealing long loose brown curls and sleevless low-cut studded leather hide. We usualy killed them where i am from so as to not let it spread.
She stands and adjusts her right breast which had fallen out slightly when she removed the cloak. Adjusting her Obssidian daggers on her slender hips she then takes her seat again. But that was then and I dont follow those traditions anymore. So Prime she gives him a quick smile and a wink I guess I'll let ya live a bit longer and see if you can recover.
Mokrim grinned widely at Brine's request, and was about to speak when she went on to explain about amnesia, and the deadly results of it.
Only fractionally less cocky than before, he said, "I'd be happy to show you around, and get to know you. I know this great place up near Oakenhaven where the beer is cheap and good." Well, it was cheap if you were a Protector, anyway.
He debated trying to put an arm around her shoulders, then decided not to with a glance at the daggers she carried. Some people were a bit touchy about being touched, after all.
Well, I may not know about "coming online," but I know just plain coming on when I see it, Kearan thinks, looking at Brine and Mokrim. Hope he contains himself, don't need the group breaking down before we even know why we're here.
The farmer absentmindedly rips off a piece of the roll and places it in his mouth, chewing contemplatively. From a pocket in his trousers, he pulls a small metal flask. He unscrews the lid and throws back a swig of the contents, before replacing the lid on the flask and the flask in his pocket.
"So, Brine, if you're not from around here, and you don't mind my asking, where are you from?" Kearan asks, smiling pleasantly.
"A library? Yes, I would appreciate that a great deal. None of the farmers I have met thus far had any discernible libraries."
Turning to Brine, "I believe I would prefer to remain alive, but thank you for your concern. Out of curiousity, how would an affliction caused by blows to the head spread?"
I have been on a somewhat self-imposed pilgrimage.
I come from an area north of here near the "LE town" I helped my father with the family business mostly until he died. since then I have been on my own just wandering and living off the land.
turning to Prime I aint too sure, it looks like we always caught it in time I guess.
Merle waits a moment for a response from Matthias, but getting none simply says, "You look busy man. I'll catch ya later." He climbs the ladder quickly and gracefully. Once at the top he stops, looking around the group at the table. He's taller than everyone except Kearan, who has about an inch on him. "Y'all here to meet the sheriff I suppose?" Anyone who spends a lot of time in either town has probably seen him around.
He tries to take an empty seat next to Brine if there is one, if not he'll sit next to Prime 691 and start eating. He gives the android odd looks, but just asks, "Nice ink. Who dun it for you? Looks a lot better than mine." He says, pointing to the tribal sleeve of tattoos coating his left arm from elbow to shoulder.
And another one. That's a lot of muscle. It must be pretty dire if that many people are gathered.
Enjoying the banter, Nial tries to remember all the names and to recall what he knows of them.
Okay. Brine and Mokrim I know from Oakenhaven. Merle is often in Oakhaven, selling his junk. This prime and next the tall guy Kearan must be from around here. And then there is this Bolt fellow who does not seem to like Mokrim. He reminds me of someone...
"Damn!" says Nial suddenly, dropping his glass in the process.
Now I remember the story about his father. He'll recognize me as well if he has not, So I can as well come out first.
"Sorry about that. For the last to come, I'm Niall, one of the smiths of Oakenhaven. And I'm as eager as you to know why he has gathered so many of us."
A clatter announces the sheriff's arrival, and a moment later a dirty blonde mop of hair and broad set of shoulders appears at the entryway. He pauses mid-ascent and looks around the room, his eyes lingering on Prime, Brine, and particularly Mokrim.
"Well, it looks like I'm short one deputy and ahead two strangers and an unexpected guest. Has someone else been passing out invitations?"
Kearan recognizes Merle--he's seen him in town a few times, and even once or twice while working--and while he doesn't personally care for the man's wares, he doesn't see much wrong with the trade, and the man himself seems friendly enough. "Good to see you, trader," he says, clapping Merle on the shoulder. "How's business?"
When the sheriff arrives, Kearan moves to clasp his wrist, after giving Nial a strange look at his outburst. "We've all been introducing ourselves to each other, more or less," he says.
Glancing at Nial when he drops his glass... He seems familiar, Father may have done business with him. Six years is a long time and I cant be sure tho.
leans back against the wall again and crosses his arms over his chest.
So not every body was invited to this gathering. Have to keep my eyes open then.
"Missing a Deputy Sheriff? Are we a search party then? Or do you have something else in mind for us?"
The sheriff takes a seat at the head of the long table and begins to butter a slab of bread.
I was referring to one of my deputies who was supposed to be at this meeting, though he appears to be lagging behind. But as a matter of fact, searching for someone is involved with the task I have in mind. But I fear it may be quite a bit more serious than just a man lost in the woods."
Merle nods to Kearan, but since the sheriff has started talking he puts off answering him. "Go on. You got me curiouser'n a cat in a string shop."
Nial looks round and follows the sheriff gaze while his hand under the table grasps the handle of the hammer at his feet.
"Hold on a second. I haven't been passing invitations for one. Maybe before we go on, we can ask those not invited to explain why they are here."
Mokrim turned a cocky smile on the Sheriff and Nial. "Well now, Sheriff, the grapevine tells me you're looking for volunteers because of something you need help with. Naturally, Oakenhaven has sent someone to help you, to improve the relations between our two towns. You wouldn't turn away a helping hand just because it was from Oakenhaven, would you?"
He kept his eyes on the Sheriff, gauging his reaction.
Kearan can't help but roll his eyes a little. People--gotta love 'em, but they pick fights faster than an unbroken stallion.
The large man stands up, raising out his hands. "Please, fellows--if what the sheriff says is true, if there's a bigger issue at hand than someone lost in the woods, I'm sure it's a bigger issue than who was or wasn't invited, and who may or may not be normally welcome. Let's all just stay calm without starting anything."
That said, Kearan looks in turn at Nial and Mokrim--not threatening, but almost a request, for them to refrain from causing arguments--and sits down.
Nial eyes light, turning from brown to bright gold at Kearan words. He return the look, staying still for a moment then shrugs. "I was just asking a question..."
Brine kicks her chair back on two legs and props her feet on the table edge. I failed to see the sign that requests strangers to check in....How about we skip to it and get to business.
she looks over at Mokrim and then at Nial and the sheriff
I am sure we all have legitmite reasons to be here and most of us don't care to tell any of you how or why we got invited.
she settles back into the leaning chair
there ya go. now everyone stop being so damn suspicious and lets move on to details and tasks.
Da always said 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer'....
Bolt leans foward and and says "We're already here, so invitations aside, let us listen to the Sheriff and find out .
He then glances around at everybody, finishing with a nod to Kearan and Brine.
"I'm not trying to be hostile, now, but I'd like a little more information on who I'm talking to before I start providing the details for what I'd intended to let slip to as few ears as possible."
Maynard nods in Mokrim's direction, proceeding to take a bite of his bread, which he has now slathered with honey. After swallowing, he continues.
"Mokrim's explanation is fair enough, and I imagine his father would have gotten wind of this soon enough anyhow. To be honest, I'd appreciate the help. But you, with the tattoos, I don't recognize - and I've seen pretty much everyone in this world at least once. Would you care explain what's brought you here?"
Prime looks around for a moment before figuring out that he is the 'tattooed' stranger. He then considers for a moment, and then stands to address the sheriff.
"Ah, tattoos. Now I see. Pardon my confusion. They are not actually tattoos, but the appearance bears a surface resemblance, so the mistake is not difficult to understand. They are actually a physical representation of the metaphysical relationship between the mystical aspects of my circuitry and... But then, I digress. My designation is 691, a Prime number, which upon noting has resulted in the use of the term 'Prime' as my common name."
"If you truly know everyone in this world, and you do not know me, that is disappointing, as I had considered the possibility that someone experienced enough with the local population might be able to identify me. As things stand, I do not know who I am. I awoke 19 days ago with no memory of anything prior to that point in time. I am actively working to assemble information and be able to puzzle out the mystery. Thus far I have had little success, and I have discovered that the resources I have are too limited to pursue my search for long. I am seeking employment, and like some of these others overheard that you are looking for aid. Depending on your needs, I believe I can demonstrate skills that will aid in your task."
Mokrim listened to Prime with growing fascination. If the man wasn't from here... where was he from? And his mystical non-tattoos sparked Mokrim's curiosity fiercely as well. What were they for? Even if the Sheriff didn't have anything interesting to say, it had been worth the journey just to hear this.
He waited to see what the others made of Prime's strange claims.