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The sun is barely a quarter of the way to its apex and the day is already hot. The air is heavy with moisture and the sweat that any motion raises struggles to evaporate from your skin, leaving wet stains anywhere clothing touches skin. Clouds over the great lake to the north hint at relief if the wind will veer and bring them south, but for now the town of Haltwhistle swelters.
Despite the heat the town is unusually busy. Lord Bradford Winehorn is on his procession through the countryside and is expected in Haltwhistle tomorrow or the day after. Winehorn's visits always produce an atmosphere of holiday. When he arrives, the day will be spent hearing petitions, but the evening will bring a potluck feast, games, and music. Local cooks, athletes and musicians will vie for popular and his lordship's acclaim.
As many locals as can escape their farms are in town to see the lord and enjoy the festivities. Because the first fruits of the fall harvest are already being gathered and stored, the town is not as crowded as it will be in two months with the harvest fair.
At the southeastern end of the main street a knot of citizens is struggling to erect a large open-walled tent. Along the main street merchants sweep the cobbles in front of their stores. Others string garlands of wildflowers or ivory and burgundy streamers, the colors of Winehorn's house, over the street and along their eaves.
Galifar's Rest, the local watering hole is already open; the darkness behind its windows promises a cooler welcome than the street. Sally Turner stops her cart, this late the cisterns must be empty and she needn't worry about any milk spoiling, and slips through the gaping maw of it's open double doors.
Toward the northwestern end of the street, Jerrick Butterfield welcomes a farm family who's brought part of their early harvest in.
Bloody heat.
Aljohar watches the canvas roof of the tent lean and sway as the citizenry tries to erect and secure the structure. She sighs and resumes her stroll down the main street.
Haltwhistle hasn't looked like a town since she returned from the wars. She can't help but see it as a large camp with many permanent structures and a shocking lack of discipline. Missing, too, is the sense of camaraderie with her old combat unit. Sure, there are friends here, new and old, but... it's not the same.
The chain shirt under her clerical robe itches as a runnel of sweat rolls down her back. Shifting uncomfortably, she tries to scratch it unobtrusively, wishing she had the twitchy skin of a horse.
Lino would no doubt be holed up today, avoiding the crowds. Disappointing, but perhaps Lydia and Jam would be around for the festivities. Surely all the merchants would be in attendance - Lydia's lip curls involuntarily, thinking of all those who skipped out on their duty with the excuse of "necessary civilian services".
A cry from the direction of the tent catches Aljohar's attention. Somebody let go of a rope at the wrong time, collapsing the canvas atop three or four other workers. Aljohar grins at the resulting salty language, watching for a moment to be certain nobody was injured. Seeing all well, she resumes her restless pacing down main street, nodding at any town guards or veterans as she passes. The silver holy symbol of Dol Dorn glitters on her chest, letting all who see her know that a cleric is on duty should one be needed.
She continues meandering through town, unaware that her path and pace are those of her old military patrol days, habits ingrained in her by blood and sweat. Vague memories of carefree childhood pleasure at such festivities drift through her head from time to time, quickly banished by uneasy wariness and vigilance. She truly hoped nothing bad would happen here in town, though a part of her wished that something would. Anything. Who knew peace could be so, well, boring?
Rusting in the sheath, I am. Obsolete at 25. Not what I expected.
Sodding Hell
A farmer came down the road, leading a pair of heavy set horses, Uthar sighed, whiles his small smithy was open, he'd hoped to spend today improving his abilitys, and this was the third person today.
Bloody Military
Working in the war was not a bad job as far as things went, unfortunatly Uthar was a fast worker, this meant that when they realised how good he was at hammering out the same armour repetitively, they had elected not to train him under a master smith, as he had hoped.
Something to do with too many masters apparently
He could understand it he supposed, too many people wanting to make extravegant full-plates, and not enough fools hammering out scale-mail and chain-mail. With that said he had enjoyed knowing that his armour had saved lives, and repairing armor was often an enjoyable challenge.
Still, most men of my age at least know how to craft a blade
He grumbled, that was the bit he truly resented, if nothing else.
He readied his tools for the inevibtle request for a shoeing, the coming festivities meant that many people were taking the opportunity to stock up and get required services, hells the other smithy in town must be busy.
He'd shoed enough horses for a week, and Onatar knows it'd probably be two by the evening.
"Why aren't we following the ridgeway?" Amanda asked, her tone plaintive. The two of them were riding toward Haltwhistle along the winding path at the foot of the low hills rather than along their ridge. Amanda rode her pony beside Lydia on LIghtstep, the horse that had served her well through several years of warfare. Amanda looked up at her, expectantly, but despite her complaint Lydia could see she was excited to be visiting the town. It would be very much a holiday for them both, after all.
Even looking at her made Lydia's heart ache for her lost parents and grandsire. Why did they have to die under Thrane swords just a year shy of the war's end and long after their service was done? And why did Illthorn have to take himself off into the wild when he did, leaving Lydia with a younger sister she hardly knew and a responsibility she would rather do without.
Blood is blood, Illthorn would have said, and rightly so. Lydia loved her sister, she'd rip the heart out of anyone or anything that threatened her, but she keenly felt her own lack of parenting skills.
"It's be cooler up on the ridge," Amanda added, trying to prompt a reply out of Lydia. "There'd be a breeze."
"And we'd be in the sun, too," Lydia finally spoke. "We could get windburn. Down here we have the trees for shade, and springs for water. Horses get thirsty, after all."
As if on queue they rounded a curve in the road - more of a track, really - passing under the shadow of a bluff where a stream trickled out of the hills and tumbled down to a small pool before winding under a large slab of stone thoughtfully placed across it so the track could wind on. Both horses picked up their pace as they scented the water, but Lydia checked Lightstep a moment.
Calling the Wolf to her, she inhaled the rich scents of the woodland they rode through, scents that described a thousand things human tongues had no words for. Others had passed by earlier in the day, she could smell the sweat from their horses, and a black bear had ambled past perhaps an hour ago, but Lydia could smell no nearby dangers. She could smell Amanda, though, and her sister's scent was a little different. To be expected, she was growing up fast, soon she'd either be getting the urge to wander or the urge to discover boys...if any local lads felt like getting to know a girl who could grow inch-long claws when she was angry!
To Amanda's eyes her sister had changed slightly, hair had grown on parts of her face, her features became more lupine, her voice deepened and roughened. It thrilled her how her sister shifted and changed so easily, and could maintain it so long, and do so with so many different forms. She envied her command of their lycanthropic heritage, it was more than any other she knew, not even her grandfather had been able to do what Lydia did. Lydia had once tried to explain that it was not the same as shifting, which Amanda herself could do, but something else, but Amanda hadn't really listened.
"It's clear," Lydia declared. Both of them started forward again, guiding their horses to the pool to let them drink. Both slid out of the saddle to bathe their feet and wash the dust off. It would come back quickly enough but it was good to cool down.
"Will we stay at Sally's?" Amanda asked as they remounted and rode on.
"If she will have us," Lydia replied, apparently without rancour. "She may have other visitors."
"Where else could we stay? The Galifar's Rest?"
"Maybe. They are likely full though."
"Must we sleep in a field?"
Lydia just laughed at her sister's exasperation.
The copse of trees cleared, and the fields around them were full of crops and cattle. The track broadened into a road, marked by a double line of trees planted to provide shade long ago. In the distance was Halfwhistle, just a few miles distant.
"I'm sure Sally won't mind if we sleep in her barn, if you ask her nicely enough," Lydia teased. Amanda just stuck her tongue out and spurred her pony into a trot to speed up their arrival. Lydia relaxed in her mind, letting go of the wolf and his scent ability, her appearance returning to normal: it didn't do to look almost like a werewolf in the company of ordinary folk, after all. She started after Amanda, Lightfoot breaking into a canter to catch up.
Edit:
As they rode into the outskirts of the town she heard the familiar sound of iron on iron, a regular beat from behind a cart and several horses. She and Amanda both dismounted and led their horses around the cart, to where a bluff bear of a man was pounding hot iron on a hot day.
"Ho, Uthar, you must be working up a thirst today!" Lydia called out to be heard over the din.
With little care for pace or precision in her step, Linokashtai meanders down the side of the road seemingly lost in thought. She purposefully avoids making eye contact with anyone coming the opposite direction for fear that a dull conversation might strike up. She clutches her crystal in both hands, staring down at it once in awhile to help with the eye aversion.
The psicrystal is little help: You look like a mess. Clean up. You cannot wash clothes with sweat. That's a myth perpetuated by the slovenly.
"Shh," replies Linokashtai absently, checking her clothes. There are some spots of sweat in her maroon robe where it's made contact with her skin, but it's no more than what any other person in the town is suffering. She starts trying to concentrate on not sweating so much, focusing her self-hypnosis on bending to the crystal's demand. Her focus is so intense that she does not notice a cart that's come up behind her.
"Out of the way!" the driver says, shocking the psion into correcting her course and waiting for the squeaky cart to pass her by.
Just my luck that a cart comes while I am distracted. He probably thinks me a fool now. She looks up once the way is cleared again, resuming her pace. As a cry sounds from one of the tents further out, she speeds up her pace to see if there is anything there that should be assisting with, but instead comes across Aljohar on her way over. The psion tries to lock eyes with Aljohar so that she can give proper greeting, but should the cleric ignore her, Lino continues on her way with the assumption that Aljohar simply has no want for company.
Jamorin's been pretty busy helping with the garden and the orchard there was a lot of work to be done fruits were ripening, veggies were just about ready. Thankfully today he'd gotten an early start he'd already picked and stored the ripe produce, he'd just finished running a quick errand, so now he should be free to enjoy the festivities for the rest of the day.
The lanky lad uses his hand to shield his eyes from the sun Sure is hot today, glad I got an early start before the sun really started beating down. I'd be sweating up a monsoon working out in the garden now.
As Jam contemplates his good planning avoiding working during the hottest part of the day a small shadowy figure sneaks up behind him and suddenly leaps onto his back. "Whoa, it's an attack!" Jamorin calls out stumbling forward with the extra weight.
The laughing young boy clinging to Jamorin's back jokingly threatens "I've got you now Jam!"
"You'll never take me alive villain!" he says dramatically making a show of struggling while carrying the boy on his back. Jamorin makes it a short way down the street before a girl looking to be about seven latches onto his leg.
"Yeah good job Lanna get him" the boy on his back cheerfully encourages.
"Ack reinforcements!" dragging the giggling weight on his leg Jamorin continues his attempt to flee down the street away from the ambush, it's rather slow going. "No, must get away."
"Yer nawt gonna get 'way dis time Jammy look Kylie and Dron're comin" the menacing girl clutching Jamorin's leg was sure of their victory, and to drive her point home two other children came out of no where each one grabbing onto one of Jamorin's arms.
Huffing with the effort Jam makes it maybe another step and a half before slowly collapsing under a pile of giggling children which happened to be in the middle of the path Aljohar was taking. Seeing a comrade and squirming an arm free the fallen man reaches out towards her from what must be his final resting place "They got me Al, I'm done for... save yourself!" He hadn't quite mastered Lino's subtlety of locking eyes to assure assent before extending a proper greeting.
Having got up at the first cocks crow, Karl was ready for a full day ahead. He had a full schedule before him; some deliveries, some purchases he needed to make, reuniting with old friends, a duet with Peter later. It was enough to put a spring in his step as he lead his bay into town.
The pale linen shirt clings to his back, but he's used to the feeling. His heavy hand push his hair from his eyes, the other grips the thick reins of the tractable horse. The soft clack of her steel shoes on the cobbles are lost in the hubbub of the town.
After the general malaise that affected the town sporadically it was exciting to have festivities returning. This excitement was reflected in Karls' smile, that seemed to light up his thick-set face. Not conventionally the most handsome man, his features are expressive and seemingly light up the room when he's happy... or bring a shiver of fear to the heart of those who's wronged him.
With an easy stride and a greeting to all as they prepare the festivities, Karl heads towards the Galifars' Rest to drop off a could of cases of wine currently stowed in the saddlebags.
"Lin!" Aljohar grins at her shy, scholarly friend. "Didn't expect to see you out among the crowds today..."
An approaching scuffle draws her attention. Chuckling, she regards the downed courier. "Looks like you've been captured fair and square, Jam. What kind of ransom are you asking for him, kids? You know you can ask for things in exchange for freeing a prisoner, right? Like, say... oh, a fried cake? I'm sure Jam could afford one for each of you."
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Jam, Lino, Al
The children laugh delightedly. "Fried cakes! Fried cakes!" They unwrap themselves from Jamorin's limbs, but still clutch his sleeves and shirttails while trying to drag him toward the bakers.
Halfway along the main street lies the ten sided stone hulk of the Pantheon, temple of the Sovereign Host. The sun is still low enough that the shadow of the barn high temple reaches all the way across the street.
Outside the Pantheon lounges its leading Vassal, Attus Veri. Like Aljohar, Attus was an army medic, but his experiences have marked him less. Plump, and easy going, Attus is new to his role.
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Lydia, Amanda, Uthar
The inevitable shoeing is an easy task. A few nails have worked slightly loose. The farmer, Giles Ofham, is an observant and careful steward of his mount to have noticed it at all.
"Actually Uthar. I'm glad I ran into you. Pensive's been at me about my armor. Could you come round to look at it? The harvest looks to be good and I can pay you when it's in."
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Karl,
Not far from town you and Peter fall in with another party of farmers, the Winters. The patriarch, Jonah, and his wife Rebecca, drift toward you. Peter gravitates toward his children: 3 girls, 2 boys, The oldest girl's husband and her new baby.
After a friendly greeting, Winter lets the younger party pull ahead before commenting, "Heard some talk of trouble out by Cherry Hill. Bandits after the harvest. Do you think Wineford's going to do anything about it?"
"Ho Lydia, Amanda too! The military had me suffer far worse on a hot day." Uthar grinned, "The trick is to keep a good bucket of water nearby and claim 'tis for forging!"
Swiftly turning his attention to Giles, "I think I can manage that, I can do it today if you wish, it'd give me a good excuse to do something other than shoe horses for the day, let me just gather my tools and close up."
Bringing his gaze back to the sisters, he spoke quickly. "I'm assuming you two are planning on staying at Sally's?" He left the question rhetorical, "I have a spare room if she has many guests, you'll have to share but I'll not have a fellow vet out in the barn, espicially as I know Amanda would prefer somewhere warm."
Uthar got too gathering his tools as he awaited a response. He didn't know Lydia that well but he knew Sally would be expecting many a guest, and he would always keep an eye out for his fellows, besides he wouldn't leave a girl like Amanda out in the fields. The young lass was known by many-a-folk for her kind-heartedness and maturity.
The benefits of living alone in this home, is always having a room spare for friends.
"Thanks Uthar," Lydia said, and grinned at Amanda.
"Thank you sir," Amanda added, remembering her manners.
"I don't think 'warm' is a problem this summer," Lydia said. "I think a bed has more to do with it. Mind if we tether these two here?" Lydia asked, sliding from her saddle. Although an able rider, she always preferred her own feet. At Uthar's nod she tethered both horses near the water trough.
"How's the farm?" she asked Giles Ofham. She didn't really know him well, but it did to be polite.
Jamorin winced as Aljohar mentioned cake buying to the kids, now typically you would ask the wealthy friends and family of the person you've captured not the poor guy you captured that's barely scraping by thanks to the generous discount Thenji's giving him on the rent, Jamorin didn't know a whole lot, but he at least knew that much. Of course he also knew that didn't matter since Aljohar had planted the idea of Jam buying the kids cakes in their minds now it was either lighten his wallet, or deal with disappointed children's eyes. He wondered if Aljohar did it on purpose as a small revenge for him calling her Al, he wasn't entirely sure if she accepted his shortened version of her name, of course that didn't stop him from using it.
Somehow Jam extricated himself from the pile of children, as the kids scrambled to their feet tugging at his sleeves and pulling him towards the baker.
"Alright alright" Jamorin said "Just this once, I can't buy cakes all the time... and if any of your mothers ask about it tell them it was Aljohar's idea I don't want to be accused of spoiling your appetites." He manages to get a hand free so he can get to his coin purse.
When taking out his purse he notices Lino is there he hadn't seen her from under the pile "Ah Linokashtai, I didn't see you there, you're well I trust." As he greets her he pulls out his coin purse which happens to be upside down and dumps coins all over the ground. "Whoops... dang it"
Linokashtai nods in greeting to Aljohar, and her lips might even turn up in a slight smile at her friend, which is more friendliness than she will show to most. "Hello Aljohar. I did not want to come walk among the crowds. But I have to prepare too. With the Lord coming to town." She blinks once slowly. "At least it is something to do."
At the greeting from Jamorin, she says, "I am well. You seem well too. You're being very generous." Lino simply makes some neutral statements, hoping that some of that will be taken as 'normal conversation'.
She turns towards the temple a moment, trying to place the lounging Attus in her head.
There was no doubt about it, Thenji Cross was certain he was going to die today.
Worn coat unbuttoned and the top of his tunic unlaced, the roguish fellow was sweating profusely. He had never envied Jamorin anything before, but in this heat, Thenji wished he could pull off the "monkish" look so he would have an excuse to wear light, loose clothes. But no, rakishly good-looking blokes always had their coats, tunics, breeches (with a stylish belt no less), and don't forget the boots. As the sun continued to beat down on him, he fanned himself with the old hat one of his remaining kin back on the ranch had insisted he wear to block this accursed sunlight.
His hand was barely on the reins of the donkey pulling the cart he had borrowed to take the monthly supplies out to the Cross Clan's ranch. Why didn't he just buy his own? Because any time he got the chance to flirt with Sally was just too much fun to pass up. The widow hadn't known Thenji very well before the war except in passing and by the rumors that had always followed him during his youth in Haltwhistle. Upon his return, he was determined that he would live up to everything she had been told. It wasn't always easy, and the lady was frequently skeptical. But if admitting to the many ridiculous exploits for which he was infamously accused coaxed a smile from the lass, Thenji would take it. After all, everyone else was rather short with him. Sally at least didn't treat him like "Cross trash" the way many others had.
Placing the hat back on his head (despite the fact it didn't match his coat or boots), Thenji croaked at his passenger crouched down in the cart's bed.
"Hey, Regol, we're almost to town, wake up."
How the man could sleep in this heat—and so bundled up!—was a mystery. Like so many other things about him...
Whatever. None of my business, Thenji thought with a shrug. He reached over and grabbed the clear jar of golden brown liquid sitting next to him. Taking a swig, he exclaims, "Man, this is good tea!"
Though he was in no hurry to say it outright, Syrus shared in his compatriot's suffering. Not once had he raised any complaints about the oppressive heat, nor had he shown any apparent signs of discomfort. Given his state of dress, the latter was easy enough to hide. But with one look at his heavy patchwork cloak and the bandages that seemed to cover him from head to toe, anyone would be able to tell that he had to be uncomfortable. They would be quite correct. His comfort sacrificed not at the altar of good fashion sense as with Thenji, but at that of secrecy. The desire to be hidden. And yet, here he was, quite literally in broad daylight. None of the irony was lost on him.
How in blazes did I let him talk me into this? Syrus wonders, only feigning sleep. It was easy, really. All he had to do was sit there with his eyes closed and let the motion of the cart bump him side to side. Not that he could actually fall asleep while he was soaking in his own perspiration. He would have to give the bandages a thorough washing yet again. They would have lasted another week at least if he had not been driven out into this hell. Hmph. 'Kind soul' indeed.
Nonetheless, when Thenji gives the word he slowly opens his eyes, while stifling a yawn that was never going to show up in the first place. He embellishes the act a bit by blinking the 'sleep' out of his eyes before looking to the man with rather convincing bloodshot eyes. They actually almost always looked that way, but he did not make a habit out of looking into mirrors.
"Does that mean I can go home now?" he asks dryly, as in his tone of voice, and not because the sun had sucked all the water out of his mouth. That cruel, flaming bastard.
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"How's the farm?" she asked Giles Ofham. She didn't really know him well, but it did to be polite.
"Middling well. If the weather holds we'll all have a fat harvest and Sharn is always hungry. Maybe for once we'll sell more than we pay in taxes."
Behind Giles a shifter woman stand at the edge of a copse of alder. She raises a beckoning hand and jerks her head to the left in silent request for a talk.
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...
Somehow Jam extricated himself from the pile of children, as the kids scrambled to their feet tugging at his sleeves and pulling him towards the baker."Alright alright" Jamorin said "Just this once, I can't buy cakes all the time... and if any of your mothers ask about it tell them it was Aljohar's idea I don't want to be accused of spoiling your appetites." He manages to get a hand free so he can get to his coin purse.
When taking out his purse he notices Lino is there he hadn't seen her from under the pile "Ah Linokashtai, I didn't see you there, you're well I trust." As he greets her he pulls out his coin purse which happens to be upside down and dumps coins all over the ground. "Whoops... dang it"
Feeling Jam give way to their expectations, the kids giggle and whoop and relax, but do not release their holds. When the coins drop, however, they let go and collapse into a huddle at his feet where they scramble to help him pick the coins up. He barely has a chance to stoop low himself before they are offering him his money with broad smiles.
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The street is starting to slowly fill. A half dozen local vendors with carts or wagons drift along the street looking for the right place to halt. Shopkeepers drag tables to stand before their storefronts and begin arranging items for sale. People from the surrounding area filter in. To the south, those without friends living in town go east of the big tent to leave their horses at Mulch's Stable before returning to the main street.
Two heavy wagons loaded with men pull up in front of the Grange, the large communal barn just north of Butterfield's shop. They jump down and go into the shop.
Far up the street to the north, past even the Grange, Pensive Starfinder stalks across the thoroughfare.
Aljohar favors Jam with a wry smile as the children drag him to the bakery. "Oops," she remarks to Lino, "Poor guy, having to feed those gaping maws. Where are you headed today, my friend? I'll walk with you. If he" she nods towards the lounging Attus, "isn't busy, there's not much to do. If I go with you, maybe everyone else will leave you alone." And me... she adds to herself, watching the growing crowd. She frowns at the riders coming up the main street, horses pushing through the gathering throng.
"Rude, riding through all these folk afoot. Whyn't they leave their horses at Mulch's, like everyone else? Armed, too. Maybe they're escorting Lord Winehorn?" she murmurs to Linokashti, nodding in the direction of the armed party.
"Middling well. If the weather holds we'll all have a fat harvest and Sharn is always hungry. Maybe for once we'll sell more than we pay in taxes."
"That'd be a relief," Lydia snorts. "They said the war's end would mean less taxes - mind you, they said a lot of things," she shrugged.
Behind Giles a shifter woman stand at the edge of a copse of alder. She raises a beckoning hand and jerks her head to the left in silent request for a talk.
Catching sight of the other woman, Lydia frowns slightly. She didn't recognise the other woman, so why did she want to talk to Lydia? There was only one way to find out...
"Hey, Amanda, there has to be a cake stand here and I know your appetite," Lydia says, digging in her purse. "Get us both something, I'll join you shortly. Uthar, Giles, I'll see you both later; a good day to you."
Making her way across the green to the alder copse Lydia paused and looked for the other shifter.
Perception:
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She waits for you in the shade. "I wouldn't trouble you but my litter's seen your girl wandering up our way now and then, headed north or coming south. She doesn't smell of heat yet, so I don't think she's sniffing around my boys, but it's a pretty long way from your place. Just thought you ought to know."
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Karl:
After riding in company with the Winters for a while Peter and Lan stop their horses and wait the adults to catch up. The two boys ask if they can take the Cheyn ridge trail which will bring them into the north end of town rather than the south.
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...
"Hey, Amanda, there has to be a cake stand here and I know your appetite," Lydia says, digging in her purse. "Get us both something, I'll join you shortly. Uthar, Giles, I'll see you both later; a good day to you."
Given leave, Amanda quickly makes her goodbyes to Uthar and Giles and eagerly trots ahead toward town.
intelligence of someone who leads with their face in a fight. Her family lays low, farming a small patch, but mostly hunting and gathering in the network of trees between more prosperous, human, farms. Unusual for them to come to town at all.
Just to be clear, Diena's impression is just her impression. It is not a subtle attempt to change this line from your post, "She could smell Amanda, though, and her sister's scent was a little different. To be expected, she was growing up fast, soon she'd either be getting the urge to wander or the urge to discover boys...if any local lads felt like getting to know a girl who could grow inch-long claws when she was angry!" You know what you know.
Linokashtai seems quite relieved to have company on her walk, first explaining where she is going, "I'm going to the library. I need to review some information about Lord Winehorn's lineage and post. So I do not say anything unintentionally daft."
She, too, observes the horses with a very slight narrowing of the eyes. "Rude and dangerous. If they are not careful, those horses could step on a child," sighs Linokashtai. She then considers her friend's question and answers, "Winehorn is supposed to arrive later, is he not? If he arrived early, before I prepared..." She pauses and then finishes defeatedly, shoulders sloping down a bit in defeat, "It would be just my luck."
Aljohar wisely avoids staring at the shy woman, contenting herself with a low mutter of "Prepared? Prepared for what?" This is said as if talking to herself, but loud enough for Linokashtai to hear. As they stroll towards the library, Aljohar finds her gaze drawn to the party on horseback, trying to spot somebody familiar in the bunch.
As your cart trundles past the tent-raisers, a man waves one hand in brief greeting then sets it back on the rope and begins hauling.
Thenji takes the rare gesture of manners towards a Cross clan as a sign the man doesn't really recognize him on account of his hat. This also gives him a chance to make a similar gesture of manners with the hat on account he does not usually wear the accessories. Thenji doffs the hat to the man and smiles. Turning his head to make the gesture as the cart trundles past causes something coming up behind Sally's cart to catch his eye.
A knot of hard-looking well-armed horsemen push past your cart. Once past, their horses walk slowly north down the main street.
As soon as it's clear they don't plan to share the road, Thenji steers the reins to coax the donkey to shift slightly allowing the well-armed riders plenty of space. The act of doffing the hat also allows Thenji to now pull it low over his face and eyes. No need for any interest from that kind.
"That floor board is coming up again, partner," the rogue mumbles out of the side of his mouth to his cart's passenger.
Syrus raises a brow (the eyebrow itself having fallen out over a month ago), but catching the gist of Thenji's message, suddenly takes an interest in the floor of the cart. He never went out of his way to look for trouble, but trouble always seemed to find him. Especially if it involved that nosy bastard Pensive - he was sure that he was around here somewhere.
"Prepare to not look and smell like a slab of meat that's been out in the sun for days," replies Linokashtai. "Also by knowing things that I might be expected to know. If anyone wishes to talk to me. Which I doubt, mercifully. My military direction was always valued above my knowledge on other matters." She also scans the crowd, mostly for people that she needs to quickly avert her eyes from.
Giving Lino a quick, sidelong glance, Aljohar delicately sniffs the air. "You don't, on either count. Which is good. Sadly, people tend to value knowledge for what it accomplishes rather than for the thing itself. I suppose we should be happy that military skills and knowledge are no longer needed... well, not like they were. But for you, that means people around here would value you more if you could tell them, say, when it is liable to hail, or when the grape squeezings have sat in the casks long enough and are at the perfect point to bottle." She nods gravely as she paces along, mumbling almost to herself. "You and I, we need to make ourselves useful for this place and time, I suppose, since the one we were bred for has slid into history."
Jamorin smiles at the kids who already had his money picked up before he could have even attempted to pick it up himself. Storing the coins safely away in his coin purse he says "Thanks guys I never seem to be able to hang on to my coins." Those that knew Jam would probably be aware that wasn't the only thing he had trouble holding onto. Whether he was just accident prone or downright clumsy people tended not to trust him with anything breakable. He rarely ever actually broke anything but people were wary all the same he'd likely fallen down every set of stairs in town after all.
Jam waves to Aljohar and Lino as he's dragged off towards the baker. Hopefully fried cakes aren't too terribly expensive Thenji gives him a discount, but he does still expect some kind of payment.
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The four horsemen pull up in front of the cobbler's shop. One of them turns his horse into an alleyway and disappears between the shop and the house next door. Two of the other three dismount and wrap their reins around the shop's porch railing. They mount the pair of stairs to the porch and knock heavily on the cobbler's door. The last stays mounted and looks up and down the street in slow arcs.
"I wouldn't trouble you but my litter's seen your girl wandering up our way now and then, headed north or coming south. She doesn't smell of heat yet, so I don't think she's sniffing around my boys, but it's a pretty long way from your place. Just thought you ought to know."
"Thank you, I know she's been restless, I surely was at that age, but I don't know what she's doing. Hopefully nothing foolish, but I doubt she has bucked the family trend in that," Lydia says, and grimaces ruefully.
"I'll need to keep a closer eye on her...thanks again Diena. Luck to you and yours, but I'd better catch up with her now."
Saying her farewells Lydia lopes after Amanda.
Perception:
Thenji does not make any move, but he feels the itch at the back of his neck as one of the men eyeballs the steel on his hip.
"Must be an outsider," Thenji mumbles seemingly to himself, but surely intended for Syrus. "Only someone not from around here wouldn't know that the local militiaman wants his veteran's armed and ready."
Thenji launches a gob of road dusted phlegm into the path in the direction of the riders once they've all turned their attention away. I don't like the look of these men. Especially, not in light of the Big Man coming into town today. Either they're his goons scouting the town for trouble, or they are the trouble.
Yeah, sure there is. Cause nothing spooky ever came out of the war's aftermath. Thenji's mouth twists wryly.
Out loud, Thenji mutters for Syrus' ears. "Among our newest and hopefully temporary neighbors, there's one with a stringed instrument who believes himself to be talented at making it sing. If you know he's in the crowd, take heed you look for when he's about to play. Best not to be in the front of the audience when that happens."
"If you say so," Syrus says, too concerned with hiding himself to be able to get a better look at the passersby. "Maybe he was just worried that you'd stick him like a pig." When the sound of falling hooves fades, he sits up again and sighs. It's too damn hot for this... Hearing Thenji's last words, Syrus lets out a grunt. "Then let's not be around to hear it. I've never liked that kind of music anyway."
As an aside, he adds, "But that was a big damned horse, though. Could feed a whole village for a week with that thing."
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....
"I'll need to keep a closer eye on her...thanks again Diena. Luck to you and yours, but I'd better catch up with her now."
Saying her farewells Lydia lopes after Amanda.
Perception: 1d20+8
"No thanks needed. We have got to stick together. Luck to yours also, Lydia."
North of Diena's is good farmland, on a long slope generally rolling gently down to the Wynarn River and Lake Galifar. It's many miles to the river and lake and there are folds, frills, and crests between Diena's and the water. West of Diena's is the Orien trade road.
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Thenji, the man eyeing you was not the bowman, nor the one who peeled off.
The spoiler below is only for Thenji and those who made the DC 18 Perception check :
Linokashtai nods to her friend, "I'm sure that we can adapt. Healing is nothing to be sniffed at. As for me... I do not like feeling outdated with the time, and I'm good at plenty of things like geometry and-"
Linokashtai's sharp eyes stop upon the horse again. The psion stops walking and begins speaking a touch more quietly, "Looks at that horse. It might be a House Vadalis horse. I'd expect those men to have some money at their disposal. And the feather on that shortbow, some kind of embellishment. Interestingly outfitted for shoe shopping."
Blinking in surprise at her friend's rather long (for her) speech, Aljohar stops and scans the horse and man thereon, nodding at Linokashtai's observations. "I'm sure any money they care to spend here would be most welcome, though I admit they seem to be doing some rather... forceful... shopping. If the cobbler has done something, why isn't Starfinder here to oversee the action? Maybe it's nothing." She continues watching the events at the cobbler's, waving to her old friend Thenji and his odd fellow traveler as they pilot a wagon down the street nearby.
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Karl:
Jonah Winter ascents to the boys plans, stipulating that Lan rejoin the family near the big tent at noon. The boys eagerly urge their mounts into a gallop, round a bend and disappear from sight.
Winter watches them go before changing the subject to how the fall harvest is looking bountiful ('with Flames' blessing') and which markets would Karl think likely to give the best price.
Uthar
With the departure of the shifters, Giles turns his full attention back to you. "Today is very generous, Uthar. But, I'll be in town til evening and maybe then some. Could I send my Tad out with it this week ...."
Lydia
Amanda is not readily apparent.
Jamorin
Stephan the baker is setting up his cart. The cakes are cheap. If you can just wait a moment. The children mill about, all smiles and anticipation. They oo and aahh over each tray as the baker brings them out.
"Eithers fine with me, at least if Pensive asks you can say I'm looking at it soon." Uthar turns his attention back to the forge, I'm here 'till the evening if you change your mind or need any other help, hopefully I wont spend the day doing nothing but shoeing horses."
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At the cobbler's the door opens and the two riders bustle inside. The disappeared rider re-emerges a few buildings down the street, waits for a family and a cart to pass, then crosses the street and disappears between two buildings on the other side.
Up at the Grange the men are loading heavy sacks into one of the wagons.
A cheer goes up from the south end of the street. The tent stands tall. Workers scurry around the edges driving the last pegs into the ground and tightening ropes.
"Well, they didn't break the door down," Aljohar observes to Lino, sounding faintly (and oddly) disappointed, "Guess it's nothing. Say, you don't happen to need a shoe repaired, do you?" She quirks a wry smile.
Glad of the company of the Winters, Karl drops in beside them keeping a vague eye on Peter. He'd reached the delicate age where you need to give him a bit more freedom - but not so much as that he could get into trouble. And with the way the lad is, there's plenty of options for trouble. Karl nearly stumbles as he remembers what sorts of troubles he got into... well still does, upon occasions.
However he watches the lads rush off with only the barest of trepidation at what they could get upto.
"Aye Jonah," he replies softly; "I'm sure Winehorn will send a patrol out, or add an extra watch in. Whatever else, he's prudent." The merchant takes notes of some of the better opportunities for market, or at least the patriarchs opinions of them.
Drat the girl, where did she go? Lydia prowls after where her sister should have gone. Illthorn, I am not ready to be a mother as well as a sister! Sniffing the air Lydia makes her way toward the smell of food...
Perception:
Linokashtai looks down to her shoes, barely worn and only just recently broken in, lifting them up slightly off the ground. She looks up to Aljohar, blinking her eyes once and the psion states, "Yes. I do." She turns her palm up towards the cobbler's in a waving motion, inviting her friend to walk with her in that direction.
Jamorin is too busy keeping an eye on the kids and making sure none of them wander into anywhere close to in the way of those horses to notice one of the horses is larger than the others.
Smiling to the baker when he gets there Jam nods "Sure Stephan we're not in a hurry, just as long as none of the other kids spot me, I haven't enough coin to buy for the entire town.
Jam turns to the oooing and ahhhing and grins at them "It's actually better having to wait a bit, this way we get cakes fresh out of the oven. Wow they smell good, I'll have to get one for myself while I'm at it."