This be the gameplay thread, tremble all ye who post here.
The dull thud of hooves pound into the grass and the man walking before it leads the horse up the trail slowly
The corpse of a fresh killed buck; already cleaned, is draped of the heavy body of the beast and the man moves with a detached and somewhat laconic pace.
Despite his slow movement his eyes snap to each spot on the trail or horizon that could be a threat; a place for an ambush, the place that may hide a scout – anything blind behind a bush or tree; his gaze is relentless as he continues his journey.
In the distance he can see the large hill in which the armory rests on, and it gives him a sense of comfort; for the armory is not only a structure to house weapons, but it is also a modest fortification to protect against threats.
And he knows that directly south of the path leading to this structure is his home.
He thinks of fresh venison; cool ale, and the taste of fresh apples.
Then he rubs the left side of his jaw absently, the scar tissue itching under the woolen wrap he wears over the lower half of his face and pushes away a scowl.
Life is too short for being bitter; you are alive, and you have a place here… that is enough.
He scratches at the scars again and squares his shoulders back and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
Tomorrow I may die; but today I choose to be happy.
He nods to himself and smiles a little.
His eyes flick up and he continues to scan the borders of the town again and he watches for signs of the townsfolk as he continues to move forward…
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Gabryjel continues to move slowly toward the town.
He has been gone for three days and is eager to be home.
But now, with no one the horizon, he decides to take the deer to the butcher Perkin Tarimm, for the Halfling paid decent coin for good meat.
After he took his payment he’d stop by Venja’s home and see if she wanted a present of fresh venison steaks.
If she wasn’t home than he would simply go over to The Stoat and buy a good drink and listen to news before he went home.
Easing his shoulders a bit, he tacks his course over to the eastern side of the town and continues to travel down the main road.
While easy to overlook due to size, one might notice a gnome heading into the Silver Stoat Tavern. Dressed in a fine shirt and vest, Xanxan closes the door behind him as he goes in. Some of the regulars voice greeting to him as he does so.
Gabryjel’s hand flashes to his rapier and his eyes narrow with a cold light.
Ah – it is only Xanxan…
His eyes soften and he slowly moves his hand from the rapier’s hilt. He watches the door bang after the gnome rushes into the tavern he takes a deep inhale of the fresh summer air, he continues to move forward to the butcher and wonders if anyone else is out and about this afternoon.
Venja slips out of old mother THeodora's home, having returned her cat to her. The poor feline was better now and able to return home after it's wound from a fight with a stray dog.
She spots Gabe coming up the street and waves to him as she crosses the street and slips inside her own home.
Surprised to see the man stop at her small shop, she greets him warmly. "Hello Gabe, good to see you. Is this a social call, or are you ailing?"
When he offers her a couple of steaks, she gladly accepts. "THank you, dear lad. These are very welcome." She stores them away, out of reach of the owl who roosts in the corner of the hut.
"I know you just came into town from another hunting trip, so perhaps you'd join me at the tavern for a drink? I have no more pressing work for the day and need a little break myself."
She gathers her shawl about her shoulders and tosses back her white hair. She sets off for the Silver Stoat, hopefully with Gabe at her side.
When Venja enters the Silver Stoat, she finds Xanxan taking his ease at a corner table. The firebearded gnome raises a bright smile as well as a glass of cider her way. "Good day to you."
"Always a pleasure, Xan. Oooh, and a warm drink for me too. You are so kind, thank you." She flashes Xanxan a smile as she sits down at his table. "I hope the day finds you well. What brings you out this afternoon? No hems to sew or seams to run up?"
"Indeed not, Venja. I had only one bit of business today, and that was to drop a dress off for a lady. She's well pleased, and I've a bit of extra coin in my pocket for the dress and for taking it to her," The gnome motions for another cider to be served. "And she should be pleased. It's quality. Now, lest I monopolize the conversation, how do you yourself fare?"
As always, Xanxan's eyes roam over Venja, but not for lust's sake. The gnome has never stopped noting what people wear, and often can find the smallest thread out of place, the most innocuous button that's been sewn on slightly too high or too low, or the like.
Gabryjel’s ruthless gaze mellows instantly in Vanja’s presence.
He clears the harshness from his throat a bit and nods.
”Thank you, ma’am… that would be very good,” he says with a bit of a rasp to his voice and a friendly nod; the right side of his face lifting into a bit of a smile as he falls into step with her.
As they walk he measures his pace to move slightly behind her and to her right, to protect her from any threats that might leap out from empty streets even as his eyes continue to stare at the area around him with a hard gaze.
When they reach the tavern he opens the door for her and after glancing around the smoky room quickly he bows somewhat and makes an “After You” motion with his arm to her.
His eyes quickly flick to Xanxan’s boisterous form in the corner and he waits to watch where Venja will move to even as he searches the room, prepared to follow the lady.
"I'm fine. Spent the morning patching up Theodora's cat, but otherwise I've not been very busy today."
She pauses for a moment and sips her cider. "Speaking of clothes, I could use a new dress. You know I haven't a lot of extra coin, but I'm sure I've enough for something pretty. Maybe I can come by tomorrow and we can settle on a fabric and style?"
Venja has never been a town fashion plate, opting more for utility than appearance. Her clothes are always simple and wearable, and most of them are quite old and worn. TIme for something new perhaps?
Looking at Xanxan for a moment, Gabryjel watches the young gnome eat and drink and chat happily.
He listens to Venja discuss trade and clothes and feels a sense of peace at the conversation.
Even so, he glances around the room waiting a bit to get his drink, seeming to be more concerned on assessing the people in the room before he allows himself to fully relax.
Venja gently places a hand on Gabe's forearm. "Relax, Gabe. You are among friends in a safe place." It's obvious from her tone and manner that she means only to set his cautious watchfulness to rest a bit.
"Have some cider... it's very good"
She pauses for a moment and sips her cider. "Speaking of clothes, I could use a new dress. You know I haven't a lot of extra coin, but I'm sure I've enough for something pretty. Maybe I can come by tomorrow and we can settle on a fabric and style?"
"Why delighted to, delighted to. I think I have just the colors that will make those lovely eyes of yours shine all the brighter. And worry not about the price , we will, as you say, work something out."
"Have some cider... it's very good"
Xanxan looks over at Gabyjel and nods in agreement, "She's right, it is quite tasty."
Tensing suddenly at the touch on his arm, he flinches back a bit in surprise, than clears his throat, embarrassed at his reaction, his mouth lifting into a bit of a smile.
”Of course… thank you,” he says as he feels the scar tissue on the inside of his cheek rub against his lower teeth.
Easing his gear somewhat around him, he moves into the adjoining chair with the agility of an expert dancer and slides into it gracefully.
Gingerly sipping the cider he feels the sweet taste of it on his mouth and he relishes the taste as it slides down his parched throat.
”How has the town been?” he asks with a somewhat hoarse but polite voice.
Despite the seeming banal question, it's clear he has genuine interest in the answer as he has not been present in the town for the past several days and he worries about it and the people who live here.
Gossip is juicy stuff, and the gnome's eyes light up as Gab's question gives him a chance to share some. It doesn't matter if any of it's true, better than true is FUN!
"Oh, we have our moments of excitement here but mostly just rumors. Let's see, some say some Big City knight got all offended by seeing signs of Sarenrae in the temple..what with that royal edict and all being ignored here. But I doubt, even if its true, he's like to do much about it. We're so out of the way as to not be worth the trouble. "
"Oh, just to make any attractive folk nervous, word is Old Mother Theodora sold a love potion recently, but no one knows to who...or is it whom? Whichever." He looks into his cider as if expecting to find some odd other liquid mixed in there.
But he downs it anyway, "And speaking of love and close cousins to it, yet more rumors are that a traveling bordello, comfy carriages and the like? Are making their way through this part of Taldor. They're said to be high class, silks and satins and sweet smells. Though in truth, I doubt that one a great deal. If they were such a group, they'd make far more coin in bigger towns rather than our little village."
Venja listens to Xanxan's gossip with a smile and nods sagely at the second rumor. It wouldn't be unlike Theodora to sell a love potion to someone. Suddenly it occurs to her that a love potion might be behind the marriage of her friends Variel and Aneila. Then she shakes her head... Aneila would never do such a thing and Variel was too much a cold fish to think of such a thing. Nope, that one was just a wonder of the nature of elven folk. But if the rumor were true, who could it be and who were they after? Perhaps time would tell.
"I hadn't heard about the traveling bordello. I agree, this is far too small a town to be much of a destination for such an entourage, but perhaps they will pass through town? If they do, Xan, make sure they are aware of your wares... you might find a customer or two for your finer garments." She gives him smile.
"Anyway, Gabe. Avram Umbledown's cow birthed a two-headed calf day before yesterday. Poor little thing only lived a few hours. That's about all the news I've heard of the last few days. It's really been very quiet."
Gabryjel listens politely to Xanxan talk, but his fingers grip the mug tightly and a murderous look flits over his eyes at the thoughts of Taldorian “nobles” pushing their way into the town.
He unconsciously runs his tongue over the heavy scar on the inside of his cheek, his hands steady as he continues to listen.
”I am glad those are only rumors… I do not want to see the people here troubled… many times nobles bring trouble.” he pauses to take a drink, wetting his mouth.
”I think it would be better if nobles do not come here... if they bring trouble,” he says with a deadpan expression, half of his face twisting into an awkward smile.
His tone is very polite, but there is no doubt among his friends that if Gabryjel thought that an outsider might hurt those he cared for or loved that he would simply kill them outright without qualm or question.
He cared very deeply for his friends and he did not want them hurt.
He senses that Xanxan is prone to exaggerate and tell tall tales simply to make his audience smile, so he does his best to smile, hoping that this is all that it is.
Meanwhile, he continues to do his best to enjoy the tales that the little gnome offers and puts aside his concerns and simply enjoys the company of his friends.
As he continues to listen, his eyes search the tavern for some of his closer companions.
"Anyway, Gabe. Avram Umbledown's cow birthed a two-headed calf day before yesterday. Poor little thing only lived a few hours. That's about all the news I've heard of the last few days. It's really been very quiet."
"Hmmm... that is not a bad thing," he says offering her a lopsided smile, his eyes genuinely warm.
"A quiet town has peace - peace is good," he adds, taking another sip.
"Miss Venja - how are the Whitestorms and Beck? Are they well, too? I do not see them yet... but it is still early for drink," he adds, watching the young angelic face in front of him.
"How is your hare? I have brought mint leaves as a treat... " he says putting a small cloth on the table and unfolding it gently to reveal the fresh leaves.
"I hadn't heard about the traveling bordello. I agree, this is far too small a town to be much of a destination for such an entourage, but perhaps they will pass through town? If they do, Xan, make sure they are aware of your wares... you might find a customer or two for your finer garments." She gives him smile.
"Ah, now there's a thought. I have a surplus of laces they'd love! Thank you for the idea, Venja. Assuming they're even real, o course and not just some rumor gone wild. Honestly, I don't know how these things spread so quickly." He winks.
"Anyway, Gabe. Avram Umbledown's cow birthed a two-headed calf day before yesterday. Poor little thing only lived a few hours. That's about all the news I've heard of the last few days. It's really been very quiet."
"Whoever said two heads are better than one never raised cows," Xanxan nods sympathetically "So much for the hope of a new breeding bull or milk cow out of that."
"I am glad those are only rumors… I do not want to see the people here troubled… many times nobles bring trouble.” he pauses to take a drink, wetting his mouth.
”If they bring trouble I think it would be better if nobles do not come here,” he says with a deadpan expression, half of his face twisting into an awkward smile.
Xanxan tilts his head at Gab's expression for a moment, "Well, nobles DO have a way of making nuisances of themselves from time to time. Darn power over life and death and all that." he chuckles trying to lighten Gab's mood
"So how was the road? And..excuse me if I don't talk for a bit while you two do, my stew is arriving." He grins, "But I can eat and listen."
"So how was the road? And..excuse me if I don't talk for a bit while you two do, my stew is arriving." He grins, "But I can eat and listen."
Gabryjel smiles at the gnome as he thinks about his journey.
”Hunting was good; there were many deer in the highlands.”
”I could have taken one sooner, but I wanted to ride a while alone,” he says, recalling the thrill of simply riding free over the plains.
He realizes his posture and words may seem unintentionally anti-social. He clears his throat looking a trifle concerned about his demeanor.
”In any case – I am back now. I am happy to be home and with my friends,” he says with a sincere smile, then clears his throat a bit more and recedes a bit, nervous that he may have seemed rude or stand-offish, though he hoped he wasn’t.
"I'm sure the Whitestorms and Beck will be along soon, at least I hope so. That is if they opt for a drink or two tonight. One never knows, especially with Variel and Aneira... it's been quite a while they've been married now and sometimes they are still like newlyweds. But Beck I'm sure will stop in for a drink and maybe dinner."
She eyes Xan's stew hungrily and orders a plate for herself. "You should have some Gabe. Kate's cooking is always the best."
She looks about on the floor and finally spots the large hare that had followed her into the Stoat. He was placidly devouring a piece of dropped carrot from someone's plate of stew. "Snow, hon, come on over. Gabe has a treat for you here." The hare lifts it's head and looks at her, munching a mouthful of carrot. It picks up the last of the carrot in its mouth and hops over toward Venja. The large hare puts its paws on Venja's thigh and sniffs for its treat. She picks up several mint leaves and offers them to Snow.
"THank you Gabe, these smell quite savory and look, I think he likes them," she says as the hare nibbles at the leaves.
The day had passed with familiar activity. And Aneira's movements were accompanied every hour on the hour by the clock tower bells. Orillus ran the clock tower with absolute precision to the amazement of the half-elf. Aneira looked up into clear sky with just a faint circle of delicate clouds on the western edge. She was on her own this day as Variel was busily working at the forge in Isker's Smithy. She had asked her husband to meet her at Silver Stoat after he was done for the day. She was eager for the reunion, even after three years of marriage.
Aneira lifted her light shawl higher on her shoulders and readjusted her full basket on her arm. She had stopped by the general store and had a word to Vivialla and then crossed paths with Ionna Teppen in the town square and they had spoken of general town affairs.
A nice cup of cider would certainly go down well, Aneira thought to herself, and she carried forth to the tavern. She wondered which of her friends would already be seated inside.
Opening the door and gracefully moving in, balancing the basket with adept ease, Aneira spied Kale at the bar and with a bright smile on her face, lifted her arm in wave and greeting.
Looking about the room, Aneira's gaze locked onto Venja's lovely form, and she quickened her steps to the table. She noted Xan and Gabe in her company. Gabe must have just returned.
With her soft, melodic voice she addressed her friends, "Good day to you all. I was hoping to find you in here." The bright smile did not leave Aneira's face as she finds a spare seat and transfers her basket to the floor before settling down next to Venja. "Ah, cider, just what I was longing for." Snow was sitting close by nibbling her carrots. Aneira bent down and gently scratched at her ear before leaving the hare be to finish her meal in peace.
"Dear Aneira, welcome... it's so good to see you. I hope today finds you well. We were just discussing a little town news and gossip with Gabe, who's been out hunting. Have you any to share with us today?"
She greets Aneira with a light kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.
Aneira reached out and gently squeezed Venja's hand. "Well enough, my dear friend. And how was your day?" She rarely paid heed to general gossip around the village except if it was in regard to possible threat or danger. In lowered voice, so only those present at the table could hear a word, "Mistress Steranus, at the general store, spoke of a love potion sold by Old Mother Theodora. It is a worrying thought to have someone's will taken away and supplanted with a foreign thought or feeling. I have seen the young men follow Isker's daughter, Xanthippe, like frisky puppies and she rebuffs their advances after she teases them so. I wonder if one of the young bucks has bought this potion to possess the blacksmith's daughter? If it is true, and not idle gossip, then the girl and her father must be warned of it."
At news of Gabe's most recent hunting expedition, Aneira turned her light blue gaze to the reserved man at the table and enquired gently, "Did you find much quarry on your hunting trip, Gabe?"
"It's amazing she's not more nervous around stew..." Xanxan says looking at the rabbit before saying, "Glad your hunting went well, Gabe. Must be pretty up there in the highlands."
With her soft, melodic voice she addressed her friends, "Good day to you all. I was hoping to find you in here." The bright smile did not leave Aneira's face as she finds a spare seat and transfers her basket to the floor before settling down next to Venja. "Ah, cider, just what I was longing for." Snow was sitting close by nibbling her carrots. Aneira bent down and gently scratched at her ear before leaving the hare be to finish her meal in peace.
"Aneira, good to see you." He says with a smile and a greeting.
"Mistress Steranus, at the general store, spoke of a love potion having been sold by Old Mother Theodora. It is a worrying thought to have someone's will taken away and supplanted with a foreign thought or feeling. I have seen the young men follow Isker's daughter, Xanthippe, like puppies and she rebuffs their advances after she teases them so. I wonder if one of these young bucks have bought this potion to possess the blacksmith's daughter? If it is true, and not idle gossip, then the girl and her father must be warned of it."
"Mmm, that lends credence to at least one rumor. True, Xanhippe is breaking more hearts every day it seems, and even heads if folks get grabby. Maybe we should warn her father as you suggest."
An arythmic clip-clop of hooves echos along the quiet street, complamented by a rather shrill twittering set of reeds. Those who hear, are almost unsure who this musucian coulld be as it's almost palitable, a rarity for Beck Tavis.
"Stay, Sheelah... no. Nooo.... Sheelah stop. Oh whatever,"
He walks through the door of the Stoat, twittering away, with a young white-tiger in tow, plodding happly along behing him, a common occurance ever since Beck somehow foung her as a kitten. Lowering his pipes when an ail finds its way into his hands. With a smile, the Satyr-looking fellow strolls over to his friends' table, noting Venja's affectionate greeting of Aneira, "Do I get a kiss?" Beck teases as he plops down with his friends.
"Gaby, your back! How'd the hunt go? Sorry I missed it, but you know how it is, had ta restock, and Sheelah wasn't feelin up to it, an I was worried, but didja get anything good? You didn't run into that bear right? It was passing south, a couple days ago. Mean lookin fellow. But he turned west and kept moving, or she, couldn't tell," he chatters on.
Beck takes a more sombre tone mentioning, "Still, glad I was around. The Umbeldown's cow's a wreck over her calf. We had a good talk tho, and I'll have another word tomorrow to see how she's feeling," with his unique talent for speaking with and calming beasts, he'd gone to look on the cow at Venja's suggestion.
"Dear Aneira, welcome... it's so good to see you. I hope today finds you well. We were just discussing a little town news and gossip with Gabe, who's been out hunting. Have you any to share with us today?"
She greets Aneira with a light kiss on the cheek and a warm smile.
Gabryjel nods in appreciation at Venja’s thanks.
When the door opens and Aneira and moves to sit down, he flinches a bit at her presence. When she moves over to them he stands up and bows a bit when she comes to their table, but when he sits he discretely pivots in his chair so that the scarred side of his face is turned away from her.
As the women talk and Xanxan continues with his tales he simply continues to eat somewhat sparingly, his eyes flicking to the door behind her, curious to know where her husband is but he does not with to interrupt.
It is likely he is finishing work at forge; some projects take longer than others…
As he lifts a taste of the broth to his lips and sips it down his eyes narrow a bit.
I have so little coin left, but as we are here, I may need to see if I can have him craft a few new arrow heads… I think he has fashioned some unusual weapons; specifically silver… those are good at killing lycanthropes – having silver arrowheads would be good, too… When I see him, I will ask him if he can help me with that…
Then he continues to eat, contenting himself to simply listen.
Seeing Beck trot in, the gnome looks up from his stew with a grin, "Beck, have a seat. You really should come by the shop sometime, those clothes'll threaten to fall right off your body the harsh way you treat them." Xanxan tuts.
Snow sees the tiger and bounces slowly toward his friend, standing up on his hind legs to sniff the cat's nose gently and lick him. Having shared their usual greeting, Snow takes a few hops back to Venja's side.
"Beck, you old dear... welcome, join us please. Where HAVE you been? I expected you'd have been here before the rest of us, enjoying a libation early." Venja rises and gives Beck a kiss on the cheek then motions for him to take a chair as she seats herself again.
Aneira turned her light blue gaze to the reserved man at the table and enquired gently, "Did you find much quarry on your hunting trip, Gabe?"
Gabryjel pauses a moment, turning his look away from Snow, who is happily munching on his snacks.
”It was very fruitful, ma’am… the deer were very plentiful," he says quickly, then pauses to take a bite of the stew, thinking for a moment before he continues.
He turns his head a bit away from her.
"I saw some griffon hunting sheep… I like griffons... They can fly and hunt... I think flying is a rare freedom… ” he adds, his words drifting off somewhat wistfully as he continues to look at her out of the corner of his right eye.
The awkward gaze comes from his posture, because he is turned somewhat away from her. In this angle the profile that she sees is the one that is still young and clean and handsome.
It’s clear that he always tries to keep the scarred side of face turned from people so that he doesn’t alarm or disgust them.
He knows that his friends accept him; but this habit – turning the scarred and mutilated side of his face from others - this was something he learned to do because of the reactions he had to endure from others in his past; especially when he was still serving with the Taldan military and surrounded by so many contemptuous people who openly sneered at his wounds.
By now, such movements and gestures had simply become second nature. Indeed, he did not even realize he was doing it as the action was now more subconscious rather than through choice.
"Glad your hunting went well, Gabe. Must be pretty up there in the highlands."
He looks back at his meal after Xanxan comments and nods.
’Yes, it was pretty… I like the hills; but I think I like the plains better… You can ride for days over the plains and feel like you are free… sometimes the hills make it hard to ride… but it was very pretty,” he says thoughtfully.
The sudden presence of Beck slamming into the tavern causes Gabryjel’s hand to flash to the hilt of his dagger, but he quickly releases it when he sees the gangly Tiefling shamble over to their table.
"Gaby, your back! How'd the hunt go? Sorry I missed it, but you know how it is, had ta restock, and Sheelah wasn't feelin up to it, an I was worried, but didja get anything good? You didn't run into that bear right? It was passing south, a couple days ago. Mean lookin fellow. But he turned west and kept moving, or she, couldn't tell," he chatters on.
Gabryjel watches the way Beck moves, noticing that the Tiefling seems completely oblivious to how people look at him; he moves without any regard to the stares or veiled looks that others occasionally give him and for a moment he feels a pang of jealousy for the Tiefling.
Shaking himself from his thoughts, he looks up at Beck and answers his friend's question.
”No – no bears… I think they’d be down closer to the streams now… but I saw a clutch of griffons... There were five; three males, two females… they were hunting... they killed and took two sheep yesterday at midday...“ he says somewhat bluntly; as if he were a soldier offering his report of the results of his daily patrol.
His eyes study Beck for a moment and he notes the way that the lad seems nearly oblivious to his somewhat rough and uncouth ways.
A wise man will not judge another person’s actions or words, only their heart; for who knows the true reason that a person chooses to act kind, or cruel, courteous or ill-mannered… Therefore judge only the heart, none of the rest really matters...
He reaches for a drink of cider and sips it sparingly.
Ah, but only a god may know the truth of a man’s heart; for a man can do much to mask their true heart and feelings… and you are not a god.
He chuckles a bit to himself at the thought.
Aye! Then it’s best not to judge anyone; simply live your life as well as you can, and let them live theirs.
He glances at Beck’s tiger, his eyes emotionless, watching the sagacious looking animal recline comfortably on the tavern floor. He looks at the beast with an almost envious look for a moment.
Such an animal is free to travel, to roam without any ego; any thoughts of self-regard. It is noble, and proud and beautiful; but it does not judge itself as so… it merely lives its life without concern, and because of this it is all the more special.
He swallows a bit uncomfortably at that thought, wishing that he could simply be free of his own self-loathing.
That’s enough! Put those thoughts aside, eh? You have good friends; good company and good food… the rest doesn’t matter…
He considers this a moment and nods to himself.
Continuing to sip his drink slowly, he gives his attention to the tiger.
”The next time I go hunting, you should come, Beck… but I think you should bring Sheelah, too,” he says in his somewhat blunt way.
This manner of speech - the words sounding blunt, or clipped, or halting - that is simply how Gabryjel always talks. But at this point that does not surprise his friends, nor trouble them. They know he does not mean to sound rude, although to someone who does not know him well his tone may indeed seem curt or impolite.
Yet Gabryjel speaks haltingly; the scar damaging his ability to speak clearly and his own words sounding harsh and cruel. And in any case, it's certainly not surprising that a man would choose not to speak at length if he doesn't want to draw attention to himself.
”I think she would like to come to hunt… she is a good hunter… hunting is good; it lets her move free… “ he says, eager to have Beck travel with him again on the trail.
His eyes are still on the tiger, though, as he speaks, and he does not look at anyone directly as he thinks for a moment.
He finishes the last of his stew and sips another drink of the cider as he watches Sheelah lounge.
”Has anyone seen Mister Whitestorm today?” he suddenly asks, the question directed to no one in particular, but voiced to the group in a seemingly casual way.
While it is likely that among them all Aneira would probably know that answer best, it is clear that Gabryjel he seems nervous about drawing her gaze to his face.
He knows that the left side of his face is hideous, and he feels all the more ashamed of his features when it is looked upon by beauty and although he knows that Aneira would never judge him on how he looks, it is very hard for him to simply put aside his own self-loathing for his disfigurement.
Despite his feelings of shame on his features, and his tendency to avoid attention if he can, it is also clear that he is curious to know where the elven smith is. For though the elf is aloof and quiet, and indeed somewhat dull in personality, Variel was good and decent; but most importantly - he was a friend.
Sheelah curls up under the table, nuzzling Venja in thanks for bringing Snow along, purring.
Beck's red face turns a shade brighter as he takes his place. "After bein' around the farm so long, Sheelah was hungry, so we went out for some game is all. A fox was giving us trouble, scarrin off all the tastiest animals we were tracking so it took a while."
"know what Xanxan, I got a set of furs that needs some tailorin. Got it, maybe 25 years ago on a trip north with my Ol' wolf. Poor fellow wanted to see his lands afore he passed. Miss that racsal. So I'll bring the stuff by tomorrow!
"we should head out Gaby. Been a couple weeks hasn't it. Time sure flies by. Why I remember... wassname, older gent, anyway he'd just got married and... huh I forget. It was a while ago tho..." he replies to Gabe
"Griffons? Oh my! I would love to see Griffons." the gnome gets an almost dreamy look in his eyes about it. While not everyone knows of it, gnomes thrive on new experiences now and then to hold off the bleaching that would threaten to rob them of their vitality and self.
Normally, Xanxan fights off stagnation through his work. Indeed, he'll probably go embroider a griffon on a cape later now that the idea is in his head. Still, griffons. He smiles "You have a poet hidden in you, Gabe, the way you talk of the plains."
know what Xanxan, I got a set of furs that needs some tailorin. Got it, maybe 25 years ago on a trip north with my Ol' wolf. Poor fellow wanted to see his lands afore he passed. Miss that racsal. So I'll bring the stuff by tomorrow!
"Excellent. I do have some dress making to do for Venja as well, but I'm sure I can handle the two of you in one day." The gnome is delighted that not just one, but two of his friends might need clothes. "Fur can be a delight to work with, though one has to be careful not to lose the luster."
Clink, CLINK…clink, CLINK…clink, CLINK…
The rhythmic sounds of the hammer on the metal always put Variel into a trance like state. He was still aware of his surroundings and what was going on, but the passage of time was lost on him. It was always thus and would always be that way. At least Anee understood. Somehow she always did. Why he was so lucky to have been in the right moment at the right time to save her life and she in turn save his soul he may never know, but he was glad for whatever deity had a hand in it.
Finished with the blade, Variel turns his attention to the edge and honing it
Almost finished and this blade will be ready to give its final edge. Amazing how well this material took the color and held it. After a few more minutes Variel held the blade aloft. The silver he acquired from the merchant he added to the blade during the forging. That combined with liberal uses of prestidigitation allowed him to infuse a bright orange into the blade that when heated made it shine almost like a fire.
Finally finished with a satisfying last polish of the blade Variel sets it down next to a deep blue blade that he had finished long ago. The two were a matching set of contrasting colors. The brightness of fire and light compared to the chill cold of the night. A fitting set for him to have depicting his life, the time before he met Aneira and now the one on fire.
Aneira, oh no, what time is it. Looking out the window Variel realizes that he missed the 6:00 bell and he would be late coming home. Hurrying along, he grabs his two blades as he runs out the door to his home nearby. Finding her absent, he checks the kitchen table finding a note that she had gone to the Stoat. Giving himself a quick rinse off he cleans off and sheaths both weapons to his side. Grabbing his spell pouch Variel makes his way there as well.
The nice thing about being in a small town is that it doesn’t take long to get anywhere. Hoping to make up for his tardiness, Variel grabs a lily from the garden to deliver to Anee. Pausing before he enters the tavern Variel attempts to gather himself before being in public. Working with metal was so easier than dealing with people. Variel knew how to fix mistakes with his craft but it wasn’t so with people. IT was for that reason that he said little and tried to avoid large groups. With his friends it was ok, but in general he always had difficulties. Opening the door, VAriel’s eyes were immediately drawn to Anee. She was always the first person he saw. Ignoring everyone else he quickly went to her. Sorry, Anee, for my delay but I wanted to finish my latest project. I hope your went well. Bending down he gives her a kiss after the long day and places the lily in her hair. Only then does he realize the others are about. Turning to the others, Oh, sorry. Evening all. Variel then sits down and orders a mead to quench his thirst from the hot forge.
Xanxan snaps out of his reverie as Variel comes in, "Good to see you, Variel. How goes the forge?"
"Ah, Vari, you've arrived at last. How are you dear boy? We were beginning to speculate on when you might arrive... I see you've been forging again." Venja nods toward the new blade that rests alongside his usual rapier.
Venja is glad to see the spark in her dear friend's eyes when Variel arrives. The unlikely love between the two always warmed her heart.
"Will you show us your latest creation then?" She tosses out to Variel. "Your last one was an intriguing blue-black... what have you come up with this time?"
Responding to the others in turn, Variel smiles which is a rarity in public for him. It went well today. There was not much that needed doing and I had time to work on this. A bit flashier than necessary and more than likely not ever to be used, but a joy to make nonetheless. Same with you and your silks and laces I suppose Xanxan.
I am well Venja just late again. One of my many failings with you my friends. A for why I am late, well here it is. It should be all set. It is a bit heavier toward the hilt than I would have liked personally but perhaps for someone else it will do nicely. Variel draws the rapier to hand it to Venja. Unfortunately though he knocks over her mead in the process spilling it al over her. Oh sorry Venja, let me get that for you. casts prestidigitation. Again sorry about that.
Responding to the others in turn, Variel smiles which is a rarity in public for him. It went well today. There was not much that needed doing and I had time to work on this. A bit flashier than necessary and more than likely not ever to be used, but a joy to make nonetheless. Same with you and your silks and laces I suppose Xanxan.
"Ah, that's the truth of it, there's a joy in putting one's hand to good work, be it sewing, smithing or...other things." The gnome says with a pleased look.
When the drink is spilled onto Venja, he tries not to laugh. He doesn't want to offend anyone, though he does find it comical that such a steady hand as Variel can still make such mistakes.
Instead he focuses on the rapier, taking a look at it, "I don't have your eyes for metal, but that's a fine looking weapon."
Venja laughs at the spilling of the mead, especially mirthful when Variel casts his spell to clean and dry her dress. "Think nothing of it. I'm actually better now than before thanks to your fine magic. The dangers of healing a cat... and now look - no more cat hair on me." Her laugh is like the running trill of a brook, bright and clear.
She takes a moment to examine the new blade. "I'm no expert, of course, but it looks like a fine new blade. I'm sorry the balance is not what you were hoping for. Is that something you can adjust with a little more work, perhaps?" Her lack of knowledge of blade-making and forging is evident in her question. She just has no clue about swords or their making. "It has a lovely sheen to it, though."
She hands the blade carefully back to Variel so he can re-sheath it.
She turns to Aneira and whispers to her, girl talk... barely overheard, something about having words with her husband about unsheathing his blade in public. She laughs at her own jest and winks at Aneira and peers over at Variel, causing her to break into further laughter.
Then she lays a hand gently on Variel's arm. "I'm sorry, just a little jesting at your expense, I'm afraid, good friend. Please forgive me."
"waddaya mean, faliings. With you, I'm never the one everyone's waiting on, so I for one appreciate your punctuality" 2hile coming from someone else that may have seemed like a jibe, but Beck actuallymeans what he says, and is trying to convey that Variel needn't worry about being late. We're glad to see him whenever he shows up.
"You and your pig-stickers. I'll never understand how you use those so well. Don't feel as natural to me. I got more of a swing to my style. Flow like the wind and river" he says standing and miming a two-handed swing back and forth, with his mug which is coincidentally empth, thankfullly. "I just don't got your poise or finesse, ah well. he adds giving Variel a nod.
Uh thanks Xanxan. Working with ones hands is enjoyable. Although you would think I would be a bit steadier. At least I don't miss when I am at the forge. That could be dangerous indeed. Variel looks down at his hands trying to compel them into behaving better. Alas it is not to be as Variel seems to always be the one to have a party foul.
Not quite hearing all of what Venja whispers, Variel catches something about his blade. Thinking it is the weapon she is handing back to him, As of right now it is not something I can fix but perhaps later I can with some more skill. To answer your question though I would go with some brighter colors. I made the first a few years back before I met Anee. With this one I thought of her when I was working my new blade. Perhaps my next attempt will be something that she could handle better. This blade might be a bit much for her at this time. She might get used to it after a while but it would take diligent practice to wield it just right. Seeing her laugh Variel gives her a puzzled look knowing he missed out on some social aspect again. Not trying to let it bother him he finishes. If you ever have want of my blade let me know and I will oblige. Nothing like this of course but something more suited to your precision work.
Well Beck, a wide swing like that gives me a chance to stab you a couple of times before you come around again. Of course I can fashion something for you as well. That goes for the rest of you. Give me the time and I will do what I can. As for being on time, well... Variel just shrugs his shoulders not knowing what to say.
"A fine chiseled blade such as you wield would be beyond me, I'm afraid, Variel, but something simple like a dagger, would be wonderfully welcome. Sometime when you have time and I have the coin to appropriately compensate you for your time and materials, perhaps a dagger of such exotic metals might be just the thing!"
Gabryjel’s eyes widen momentarily as Variel entered. He is glad that everyone is now here, though it is only lunch.
It was only three days since he's seen his friends, but he did miss them.
The constant chatter around seems soothing somehow and it merely gives him a sense of peace.
In Taldor there was a hundred pleasantries one was forced to practice in the courts; none of them necessary and all of them a sham.
Each variation of “good manners” was merely a means to present obstacles to communication with people you wished to defeat in political one-upmanship. If anyone failed to use the proper etiquette then the others could use that failure as a means to discredit him.
Here the conversation was coarse and rough – but in the undercurrent was a sense of family and friendship.
Placing his cup on the table, he lays a cloth next to it and slides his dagger out and places it on the cloth. Then he pulls a small gray stone from a pouch and spits on it and picks up his dagger and begins to deftly sharpen the blade to his dagger, merely listening to the others.
Hearing Beck’s comments about the superiority of magic to steel, he pauses in the sharpening of his blade and considers the comment briefly.
What difference does it make; magic or steel? Dead is dead, either way…
He thinks back of the people he killed in his life; none of them with magic, only steel. He shrugs mentally and continues his work with the dagger.
After a few moments he pauses and presses the edge of his thumb against it and it opens the skin instantly, the edge razor sharp.
He smiles at the blood.
Then he pauses to clean the blade and sheathes it carefully and wipes the cut on his thumb on the edge of the rag.
It was just like Gabryjel to stand and bow formally as she entered the room. At first, the action had made her shy, believing she was unworthy of such veneration, But with the passing of time, Aneira had come to realise it was simply Gabe's way and a sign of respect, and so had become her response, she inclined her head gratefully toward him.
"Thank you, Gabe." She noticed the angle of his body so she would not look upon the scarred portion of his face. He was still shielding her from the disfigurement. Perhaps one day he will not feel it necessary to hide his wounds. Some carry their scars visibly and others, deep inside where most cannot see. Aneira smiled at the man, hoping to put him at ease (or as much as she could with Gabe).
"Indeed griffons are wondrous creatures, well except for horse breeders. I have never had a yearning to fly, but I can imagine what the air beneath wings could feel like, soaring in the sky." Gabe had said "Flying is a freedom" and she wondered again at the burdens he suffered as he walked this earth. People could be cruel and ignorant and he could be made into an easy target.
"I am happy that your hunt was gainful. I am certain the butcher Perkin is grateful for your talent, as we all are."
When Xan mentions the love potion speculation, Aneira answers him directly, "Perhaps we must determine the validity of the rumor first, Xan, before causing Isker and his daughter any concern. I will quietly ask around. Perhaps we should all keep our eyes and ears open just in case there is truth to this." She smiled and nodded at the gnome merchant and tailor. She appreciated his eagerness and skill, also.
At Beck's entrance, which was never subtle, and often made her smile or laugh, she added, "Well met, Beck and Sheelah. Variel should be along now any minute, he was just completing a personal task at the smithy."
And as soon as she had said that, her handsome husband walked through the door of The Silver Stoat. Aneira's eyes lit up, the pale blue shining and warm, like a sunny winter's day. At his direct approach and his eyes on her, his kiss against her mouth and placing the flower in her hair, she marvelled at how her heart reacted every time she saw him. Just like him to bring me my favourite flower. Aneira adored the snow white lilies found in the region. "You're just in time, my love. And thank you for the lily." If they had been alone, she would have continued kissing him. Her eyes told him so.
When he sat down beside her and began to explain to the others what had kept him from their company, Aneira smiled quietly for she had grown accustomed to his ways and never reprimanded him for his tardiness. Variel would become thoroughly engrossed in his craft and lose track of time. How could she be mad at him when he produced such beautiful metalwork. When Variel had unsheathed his blade and shown Venja, and mentioned he would fashion a weapon for his wife's personal use and ability, Aneira answered brightly, "Your craftsmanship is impeccable, Var. I cannot wait to see what you craft for Venja and I." She reached out, under the table, and took hold of his free hand and squeezed.
Venja's jesting regarding Variel's blade had been lost on her husband, for did not catch on to its double meaning. And even as she understood the nature of the playful repartee and clever wordplay by Venja, she felt as though she had to quietly protect Variel from the social clues he could not understand. It was just her way when it came to her husband. Later in the privacy of their bed chamber, she would explain it to him. The faint blush upon her cheeks was visible and she was sure that Venja would notice and give her a knowing look. They had an unspoken connection which Aneira marvelled upon yet welcomed. It was good to have such a close female companion.
"I suppose getting rumor into fact IS more sensible. Not necessarily as fun though," He grins.
"If you hear anything, Xan, please let me know. I will not stand for people secretly using love potions on each other in the village. Old Mother Theodora should have known better, especially if it were one of those young bucks. And aye, not necessarily as fun." Aneira's soft, melodic laughter filled the space.
"Hmm, I honestly don't know if those potions even really work. Not for long at least. when i was a kid someone used a real one with actual magic and made one of the village girls fall in love with him. Took her for a romantic picinic and then just when they got to his house, she slapped him across the face so hard he had a red mark for two whole days!" Besk quietly whispers to his friends at the mention of potions. "And we don't talk about what the girl's father did to him, nosiree!"
"So Anee, what you been up to this fine day? Didn't see ya around at all, although I guess I was on the Umbeldown place for most of it. All yer supplies all stocked up, don't need anything from the wood do ya?" Beck inquires, offering his service per usual, as he does enjoy a home cooked meal that he is sometimes offered in return for such favors