The Ghostfence rp: Playground 1 Options

[jack cloudy]

Well, here we go. This is the thread where the actual rp will take place. I suppose that I'll go first.
Note: Right now mentioning locations isn't important because odds are everyone will be in Balmora, but later on it might be usefull. Like when people split up and stuff.

Eno Arval, Balmora. (Gah, got his name wrong in the first post already. Not a good start)

"Next stop, Balmora! Please remember to collect your luggage before departing. Also watch your step and do not jump, levitate, ropewalk or do anything else that would be either obstruct your fellow travelers or be hazardous for your health." The caravan-master shouted. The trio of Siltstriders slowed down as their steps became shorter. Waving gently from side to side, they broke formation and each headed towards its own ramp where workers already stood prepared to receive them.

One passenger, a middle-aged Dunmer dressed in brown, looked up from the small flute he'd been carving.
"Ah, finally there. Balmora, it sure hasn't changed much since the last time I visited." He muttered and put away the scalpel he had been using.

The Siltstrider he was on came to a halt and a ramp was placed against its side, secured by hooks that were lodged between the creature's plates.
"You may now disembark. Thank you for accepting our service and we hope to see you again soon." The master said and gestured towards the ramp. The Dunmer nodded politely and got off.

"Now then. I should rent myself a Guar first before I join up with a caravan. What did the brochure say again?" He thought, taking out the leaflet he'd picked up in Ald-ruhn.
"Ah, here it is. A stall has been erected in front of the council house where one may register for transportation to Ghostfence, as well as rent Guars and buy supplies. Be advised that by order of the Temple, all must accept the task of ferrying two sacks of supplies intended for the construction-site. Those who have been assigned as escorts for their respective caravans are exempt from this duty." He read. In his mind, he made a quick calculation on how much more he could take with him without overloading the Guar he was going to rent.



OOC: Umm yeah. I suppose we can go and dismiss the whole 'two sacks' thing if you really want to. It was really just an attempt to make sure that at least some construction-critical supplies would be coming with the caravan.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 23 2008, 12:18 PM

[canis216]

Dranas Heleran, Balmora

"You best come to a decision quick, Helas. I've got more clients, y'know?" Dranas Heleran, smuggler extraordinaire, said impatiently. His "client" was a well-to-do dunmer man--they sat at a table in the Eight Plates tavern, in Balmora.

The response: "Don't press me, outlander. And this stuff can't possibly be worth 600."

Dranas smiled. Time to lay on the sales pitch. "This 'stuff', as you call it, is the finest skooma on Nirn. My people snuck it out of Torval in the dead of night, from the lab of the Mane's own alchemist. This 'stuff' is royalty's drug of choice. In the Imperial City I could sell it for 600, easy, and with double the profit margin."

Helas smirked. "Then why don't you?"

"Emerging markets, my friend. My associates and I are always looking for new buyers. And surely your clientele, the aristocracy of Vvardenfell, would appreciate my superior product. I have what your buyers want."

"Alright, Heleran, you make your point. But let me take one more hit."

Dranas passed over a pipe, which Helas accepted and brought to his lips.

"Ahh... that is good. 600 apiece then--and I'll take 10 vials, as a trial run. My clients will tell me if the Tong should do any more business with you and your associates."

***

Later Dranas sat in his rental room at South Wall Cornerclub, perusing a leaflet.

"Two sacks of construction supplies, eh? They might as well post a notice saying 'Please steal and market our essential stocks off-island.' This Ghostfence sounds good for business. I'll need to go rent a guar. Maybe two. That's four sacks, right? This is a better deal than aftermarket slavery in Thras!"

[Lythyum]

Naaro, Balmora

The Dunmer took the last sip of his drink. He casted another glance at the leaflet, wondering if he should go or not. He looked around the room again; everything seemed safe. I should relax a bit... the South Wall Cornerclub isn't a dangerous place. Naaro shifted in his seat and looked at the bartender from underneath his hood. He was glad it obscured most of his face, although nobody was looking for his skin in here. He could be glad for that.

With a satisfied grunt, he got up from his chair and walked over to the bar. The bartender gave him a curious look. "Yes, sir? What can I do for you?"
Naaro coughed, and answered: "I'd like to hire a room, if you've got any left."
The bartender smiled. "Yes, we do. It's 10 gold pieces for one night."
"I'll take it."
Naaro gave the man his gold and accepted the key, setting off to find his room.

OOC: When does the caravan leave? Today (in the RP) or later?

[jack cloudy]

Haz Andrethi, Balmora

Haz glimpsed at the commotion around him. To his right, a peddler was shouting his lungs out in an attempt to sell his 'top-quality traveling rations, third bag now with a 25% discount'. To his left, a couple of stableboys were tying the Guars back to their poles after the little stampede earlier. And all around him, various citizens, travellers, workers and clerks were walking around.

"I don't like crowds. Too dangerous." Haz silently observed. He read the leaflet again that had been posted to a wall. He didn't like crowds, but this was an excellent oportunity. He needed to go to the Ghostfence. Doing so as part of a caravan was a risk, but it was less of a risk than trying to brave the unfamiliar Ashlands on his own.

"Next, please!" Haz looked up and saw that he was the next in line for the que that had formed in front of the central stall.
"The moment of truth, let's see if they let me in." He thought and walked up.
"Ah, your name please, sir?" The clerk asked, as his eyebrows rose at the appearance of his latest customer. Said customer was covered from head to toe in a robe, while a scarf hid every part of his face but his eyes.

Haz tapped the ground with his pilgrim's staff once and reached within the folds of his robe. From there, he retrieved a copy of the Pilgrim's path, that had been marked as the property of 'Haz Andrethi' in large and crude writing. He pointed at the name with a finger, all in absolute silence.
"Oh, you are a pilgrim. On a silent pilgrimage? I see, my apologies for expecting you to talk. Now then, Haz Andrethi. Here is a form which you can fill in. It holds everything you might need. From Guars and supplies to various other items. Please note that the temple expects you to deliver at least two sacks for the construction-effort. These sacks are given to you upon joining the caravan free of charge, but you won't be making a profit from them either since they've already been paid for by the temple. Any loss to these supplies during the trip must be recompensated by you. Do you understand?"

Haz simply nodded and accepted the form. The clerk smiled.
"Thank you. Please return here when you've filled out the form and we'll handle the paperwork for you then as well as gather the items you require. Have a nice day."

[Lythyum]

Naaro found his room and unlocked the door, waiting a few seconds in routine, listening to the door. If there had been a psychopathic murderer with a gigantic axe inside, he would've heard some movement in the room, but apparently there was nobody inside, so he opened the door.

He was right; the room was devoid of life. Glad, Naaro inspected it. A small bed, a window with a view over Balmora- Nice view,- and a closet for any clothes and such. When he walked around the bed he nearly tripped over a chest, probably to keep valuable items in during the visit. He took out most of the Septims he kept in a purse attached to the belt at his waist and stored them in the chest, locked it and hid the key in one of the many folds of his scarf.

The bed was comfortable as Naaro sat down on it. He took out the leaflet again and scanned it for the location of the stall. In front of the council house... alright. He left the room and locked the door, hiding this key in his scarf as well. He plucked one silver hair off his head and stuck it in the lock, so he could check it for any lock picking when he came back.

The walk to the stall wasn't far. He looked at the Hlaalu guards that patrolled around the city with interest; their bonemold armor was unlike anything there was in Cyrodiil, or at least, unlike anything he had seen there. He remembered having been to Balmora once as a child, but the guards weren't in his memories. He found the stall with ease; he passed what appeared to be one of the beast races, completely covered in clothing- except for his, or her, eyes- on his way there. A pelgrim? Interesting.

He stepped in the end of the queue and waited for his turn, slowly shifting closer to the clerk that was handling all the applications.
"Name please, sir." Naaro realised it was his turn; he had been inspecting the other members of the queue for possible pick-pocketers. "Hm? Ah, yes. Naaro."
"Naaro who?"
The Dunmer sighed inaudibly. "Naaro Aleras."
"Alright. You'll need to fill in this form to confirm what you will need; Guars, supplies, et cetera. Please note that you will have to take at least two sacks with you for the construction of the Ghost Fence. You won't have to pay for them, but profit shall not be made from them either. The Temple has already payed for them."
Naaro nodded; he had read all of this on the leaflet earlier.
"If you lose them, you will have to pay for it, I'm afraid," the clerk said. Naaro nodded again. "Naturally.
The clerk smiled. "Well then, here's your form," Naaro accepted it and cast a short glance over it, "please come back when you've filled it in. We'll do the rest of the work. Have a nice day."
"Same to you."
Naaro left the stall and slowly made his way back to the South Wall Cornerclub, reading the form on the way.

[Olen]

Rothan, Balmora

Thick smoke curled from the censer, it had been made from the skull of the last high priest of Balmora temple. His successor looked over it at Rothan.

“It is a great feat we endeavour, none but the holy Tribunal could attempt such,” his red eyes narrowed, “However certain… elements, have seen fit to allow non-islanders and even infidel outlanders to be a part of this. Thus I must have eyes at the frontline, that is where you come in.”

Rothan nodded, “Of course your honour.”

“Good, you are to travel as a chaplain, and you will indeed supply that service but also you will report anything worthy of my interest back. I trust your judgement.” He pasued for effect, “To help you in this may I give you this sword.” He lifted an enchanted longsword from behind him.

“My thanks, but no. I would only return it as an offering.”

The high priest smiled, “Yes, of course. The necessaries are in your room. May Vivec guide you.”

Rothan bowed out from the smoky chapel and walked past the shrine to his room. On the bed were a couple of books, some papers and a substantial bag of gold. He took the papers and headed toward the Hlaalu council house.


“Next please,” said the Clerk. Rothan stepped up to the stall. “Your name?”

“Rothan Sarayn.”

“Ok, fill in-“

A rustle of paper cut him off, “By order of the Temple I am to be a chaplain to the builders. I travel for free and need not take supplies, indeed can there be a more vital supply than spiritual help?”

“Of course sir,” said the Clerk after reading the proffered documents.

“My thanks,” Rothan turned away back towards the Temple before any more bureaucracy caught him. He had come by a particularly interesting book. It was clearly verging on the heretical but some of its points were challenging to refute.

[bbqplatypus]

Apelles Velvus, Balmora

Apelles leaned against a wall as he watched the multitudes of caravaners and would-be adventurers make their way toward the Council House. They'd likely be leaving by the end of the day. But he was in no hurry. He had plenty of time. Besides, he needed a drink.

He lifted himself off the wall and made his way to the Eight Plates Tavern.

He walked in and had a seat at the bar.

"Nice to see you again, Apelles," the publican said.

"Same here, Dulnea."

"So, what'll it be? The usual?"

"No...make it a greef this time."

"Here you go. That'll be thirty drakes."

Apelles set the money on the counter and set about downing his drink.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone. Somebody familiar...someone he hadn't seen in over a year and a half.

He turned his head slightly to make sure his eyes hadn't deceived him. Sure enough, there he was - a mer he knew all too well. A mer he had seen twice a week, like clockwork, during much darker times.

It was Dranas Heleran. He was sitting at a table with another Dunmer. He knew perfectly well what they were discussing. Heleran didn't seem to notice him.

And Apelles intended to keep it that way. A visitor from his past was the LAST thing he needed right now. He quickly finished his drink, rose from his chair, and left the building without a word.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Dec 27 2008, 07:48 AM

[canis216]

Dranas Heleran, Balmora

"Any loss to these supplies during the trip must be recompensated by you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course." Dranas Heleran answered.

Dranas strode away from the Council House, form in hand, cursing quietly to himself.

"Dammit, how am I supposed to properly pilfer supplies if they need to be compensated for? I'll have to deliver all the stuff there and do my pilfering during construction, so they won't know who to suspect."

He reached the Eight Plates and entered, still talking to himself.

"Oh well, small loss. I need to stay on site to market my goods anyway. And two pack guars could carry a lot of booze and skooma..."

Having no more clients to meet, Dranas went straight to the bar and ordered a bottle of greef of himself, another for the attractive dunmer lady seated at the other end. 29, healthy, with rakish good looks (so he thought) and (probably--he'd been dead drunk in a lot of ports) single, Dranas was always on the prowl.

So far so good, he thought. She was coming over.

"Thanks for the drink, stranger. What should I call you?"

"You can call me Dranas. And it was no trouble--I've come into a bit of money today." He smiled, a proud, wide grin."

"You did, huh? And what do you do to come into that money, Dranas?"

"I'm a merchant, my lady. And you haven't told me your name yet."

"I try to careful around outlanders. But I guess you don't bite. Call me Tarese."

"Tarese... lovely name. Here often?"

"Used to work here, actually. Until I got a clerical job at the Council Hall--all this Ghostfence business." She frowned a bit... not at Dranas but at the thought.

"Not crazy about it?"

"Brings too many outlanders into town... no offense." She rewarded Dranas with a small smile.

"None taken. But there's got to be more to it than that, right?"

"How much do you know about the local customs?"

Dranas' brow furrowed in thought. "I've been doing business on the main for about seven years, but only in Vvardenfell for a couple months. So I guess I know a little. Why?"

"The Ghostfence... it's going to be powered by the bones of our ancestors. I mean, we have our little altars and home and such, so I guess it's not really a desecration... but it is... disconcerting. I guess I'm not sure what to think."

The conversation went on, back and forth for a while. Getting to know each other. Finally Dranas decided to press his luck.

"Say, what do you think we head back to your place? We can toss back a couple more, I can maybe play some music..."

"Oh, Dranas, I don't know...."

"Come on, Tarese... I'll make it fun. You know I'll make it fun."

"Where are you from? I mean, where did you grow up? I can't quite place your accent."

"Stros M'kai, darling. A little island off Hammerfell. An island of lovers..."

* * *

Evening: clear, starry night and lute music from Tarese Nothan's house. A woman's laugh, a man's husky singing.
--------------------------------

OOC: (Looks up) Lucky dog!

And I reckon the dynamic between Dranas and Apelles will bear some watching in the future.

[Dantrag]

Dralas, Balmora

Dralas stood in line in front of the council house, waiting to add his name to the caravan list. His time came and he approached the table.

The clerk didn't even look up. "Name,"

"Dralas Lasamsi," he answered.

The clerk scribbled hastily. "I assume you're looking for construction work..."

Dralas stopped the clerk's hand from writing. "I was told that I could get work as an escort?"

The clerk shook his head, "All those spots are filled. All that's left is manual labor. In or out?"

"In. What's the pay?"

"Ten gold and two meals a day plus a roof. You are also required to carry these two sacks of supplies. You do not have to pay for them, as they are the property of the Temple, but you are responsible for them if they disappear. Understand?"

He wanted to say that he wasn't the Temple's delivery boy, but he held his tongue and nodded before signing a few more papers that sealed the deal.

[minque]

Rianne De Zoete, Balmora

"Ouch" Rianne grunted as she was merely trhown off the late night Silt Strider arriving from Ald´ruhn. The trip hadn't been pleasant, the Strider was overloadd and waved and waggered so much during the trip so she was nauseous all the time. She thought she would make it without throwing up, but she didn't. The remnants of her lunch was spread all over her robe and the other passengers did nothing but complain and yell at her.

She said nothing, she fully understood the incoinvenience she causd but there was very little she could actually do about it, except from hanging over the side of the strider almost half the journey.

So they threw her off the vehicle on arrival, and she stumbled down the stairs of the strider port and sat down for a while.

Half an hour later she had got rid of her soaked robe and wandered into the Town of Balmora. Her throat was dry and seeing the long line of people in front of the Council House, she decided she needed a drink first.

The sign outside The Eigh Plates Tavern caught her attention and she headed towards it. Inside she almost immediately spotten an Imperial man sitting at the bar chatting with the proprietor. The sigt of Imperial men still made her feel uneasy, after all these years, but she decided to don't give in for it...

She approached the bar, hoping she didn't smell too much...

"Could I please have a Cyrodiilic Brandy?" She asked in a low voice. She did not want to draw attention to her...not now.

While drinking her Brandy she observed the Imperial man suddenly rise from his chair and leave...as if he had seen someone he didn't want to meet...

Rianne shrugged, finished her Brandy and asked if she could use the bathroom....she did smell!

[bbqplatypus]

Apelles Velvus's Apartment, Balmora

Apelles sat at the foot of his bed, gathering his thoughts, trying desperately to calm himself. His severe, weathered face furrowed even more deeply as he pondered over the situation.

It seemed his old pusher was in town. He had hoped he would never see him again. In hindsight, perhaps, this was a vain hope - he obviously worked in this area often, otherwise they would never have met. Given the frequency with which he patronized the local taverns, it was a wonder he hadn't run into him sooner.

Still, the mere sight of that mer spooked him. He still harbored dark memories of those days. Looking back on it, it was absolutely horrifying how much power Heleran had held over him.

Well, if he's in town, the best course of action is to leave town immediately, thought Apelles.

He got up and quietly left his humble abode, locking the door behind him. He calmly walked through the streets of Balmora, wading through the sea of humanity that still filled much of the town even at this hour, until he reached the front of the queue at the council house.

The clerk was an elderly Dunmer dressed in robes. He didn't even look up at him.

"Name, please."

"Lawman - er, I mean...Kinsman Apelles Velvus of House Hlaalu," he replied. "I'm to escort one of the caravans to Ghostgate. I believe my employers have sent a letter preceding me."

"I'm sure they have. Do you have the paperwork to prove this?"

"Certainly." Apelles handed over a document bearing the Hlaalu seal.

The clerk looked it over. "Looks like it checks out. The supplies you've requisitioned should be waiting for you at the supply hut on the other side of the square." He paused, a quizzical expression spread across his face. "Funny thing...I've been seeing a lot of Hlaalu coming through here. Mostly in supervisory construction positions. Several mercs, too. If you don't mind me asking, is there any particular reason you people are so interested in this project?"

Apelles kept his face flat and expressionless as he recited his response. "The Hlaalu council feels that it is imperative for the good of Morrowind that the Ghostfence be constructed as quickly as possible, and is willing to take any and all necessary measures to ensure that this occurs. Besides, whatever keeps us in the good graces of the Temple should be and is a top priority of our House, even being as modern as we are. And the Temple feels that way, too."

"Yes...unity and piety at any cost," the clerk muttered, eyes narrowed, seeing through the lie.

Apelles ignored him and turned toward the supply stores. From the corner of his eye, he could see a young tattooed Dunmer with long, wild hair glaring at him with resentment and contempt. An Ashlander, judging from his dress and physical appearance. Probably xenophobia as usual. Had he been younger or more drunk, it probably would have been enough to provoke a confrontation.

Apelles stared back briefly, gave an annoyed grunt, and walked past him to pick up his sack of travel provisions.





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OOC: One thing I forgot to mention at first in the character thread is that Apelles is only a brevet Kinsman - that is, he is an acting Kinsman, but is in truth a Lawman temporarily serving that position (a temporary rank). This was done so that he would not be outranked by members of other houses sent on the same expedition. House Hlaalu had considered doing this in light of his previous expeditions and accomplishments (and the authority with which he was trusted on most such expeditions), but had decided against it until now.

I have put this in the character thread, but decided I'd put this here to clarify as well.

This post has been edited by bbqplatypus: Dec 29 2008, 05:24 AM

[jack cloudy]

Eno Arval, Balmora

Upon arrival at the plaza in front of the council house, Eno took a moment to survey his surroundings.
"My, my. Quite an active place we have here." He mumbled to himself.
"Nevertheless, I'd better step in line."

He waited patiently till it was his turn.
"Your name?" The clerk asked, obviously tired from the seemingly endless line he'd been processing for the last few hours.
"Eno Arval, pleased to meet you." Eno replied politely and dug up a rolled up form from one of his pockets before either could say anything else.
"When I was in Ald-ruhn, I arranged for a copy of your forms to be made. I've already filled out the objects I'd like to procure. I hope all is in order." He added as he handed over the form.

The clerk glanced at the various tables quickly.
"Two guars....one bag of personal items, one with travelsupplies. Ah, I see that you wish to take six bags of construction materials with you?"
"Yes. My own merchandise doesn't take up much weight and in fact won't exist till I've constructed it while enroute. I figured I might as well fill up the surplus by doing my part for the temple." The instrument-maker explained while gesturing at his toolbelt.

The clerk put a stamp on the form before passing it on to a colleague.
"Everything seems to be in order. You should hear from us as soon as we've processed it, which will be tomorrow or the day after tomorrow at its latest. I assume you will be staying at the eight plates tavern?" He asked then.
"I haven't made any arrangements yet, but I was indeed planning to rent a room." Eno replied.
"Well in that case, I suggest you make your arrangements as soon as possible. There won't be any rooms left by the end of the day if this keeps up."

Eno thanked the clerk for his advice and went straight for the eight plates where he rented himself a room for the night.


Haz Andrethi, Balmora

Haz watched everyone he passed closely, searching for those who paid him more attention than a simple pilgrim deserved. So far, he hadn't noticed anything suspicious. Oh, there were plenty of shady looking people. But then again, this was Vvardenfell, home of the Dunmer.
"Slavers, drugsdealers, rapists and murderers, all of them. This surely is the land of demons." He hatefully thought.

The Argonian descended the stairs leading towards the river and wondered where he should stay for the night. He dismissed the taverns as too crowded, noisy and dangerous, especially with all the extra travelers looking for a room.
"Outside then, along the river just beyond the bend. Agh, I'd better get out of here fast, but not so fast anyone notices. Walking like one of those filthy Dunmer is murder for my hips. And soon I'll be doing it from dawn till dusk. Just thinking about it makes my skin crawl."

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 28 2008, 06:38 PM

[Dantrag]

Dralas, Balmora

Dralas arranged for his two sacks of supplies to be picked up upon his departure, and with that he was finished with the caravan business for now.

He left the crowd of people that seemed to hang about the Council House and stood looking around at the unfamiliar city. He made eye contact with an Imperial who seemed to be shooting him daggers. He shot them right back, resisting the urge to spit.

Moments later, he was walking about the city, looking for the Eight Plates Tavern. The sheer number of people around him made him uneasy, but he just kept his eyes open and stayed suspicious of everyone. It kept him alert in this strange place.

He finally found the place after walking around a few minutes, and stepped inside. Once he sat down at the bar near a dunmer girl that seemed slightly older than him. He was greeted by the familiar smell of burning hackle-lo. The smoke hung in the air around him, meshing with the combined smells of drink, urine, sweat, and vomit. He couldn't help but notice that the smell of vomit got stronger once he sat down.

"What do you have to eat?" he asked when the bartender looked his way.

"Roasted rat is the cheapest right now. Three gold pieces."

Dralas nodded, "How much for some hackle-lo?"

"Two."

He handed the clerk five gold. "I'll take both."

He sat at the bar, chewing hackle-lo while he waited for his meal. Dralas had hoped to stay in the city tonight, for the sole reason of being close to the caravan, but he was down to a single gold coin. Not nearly enough for a room.

[minque]

Rianne, Eight Plate Tavern, Balmora

Just before she intended to go to the bathroom she noticed a young man entering the premises. She hesitated, the young man was for sure one of her own, he had some things in his long black hair that revealed he was an Ashlander...

This fact made her smile faintly, it made her feel better, much better. The possibility of finding one of her own kind pleased her. Hopefully he would join the caravan. Now she was unpleasantly aware of her smelly clothes and decided to remedy that as quick as possible.

But first there was something she wanted to do. She gently touched the man's shoulder to catch his attention, then she made a sign with her hands, a sign that only an Ashlander would understand...hopefully this man did, she thought.

Rianne didn't wait for the dunmer to respond to her sign, it wasn't necessary. Se went to the bathroom.

It took her about ten minutes to undress and dispose of the clothes she was wearing, wash herself with sload-soap and put on some worn but clean trousers and a shirt. She also put some Stone-flower-perfume on her neck and wrists. It would probably be too cold to walk around in just trousers and a shirt but she had no choice, not now anyway. Maybe she could buy a simple robe somewhere but that was priority two.

She noticed the young Ashlander chewing on something looking like roasted rat. She slowly approached him and sat down.

Without a word she rolled a hackle-lo and lit it, she preferred to smoke them instead of chewing.

As a thoroughly brought -up ashlander-girl she did not speak to the man beside her, she merely waited for him to say something, but she hoped he had noticed her sign...

[Olen]

Rothan, Balmora

Rothan yawned. The sun was sinking and the candlelight hurt his eyes. He put aside the book, he could read it on the journey – assuming no one was watching. It was his last day in town anyway. He got up and hid the book before leaving the temple. The Eight Plates was closest, not the nicest place in Balmora but he didn't want to walk far. He might meet some of the other caravan-goers too.

He pushed open the door and was greeted by the usual smell of rancid drink, sweat and cheap hackle-lo. It was quite crowded inside, clearly this was the first place people came to after signing on the caravan, or, more likely, the proprietor had bribed the clerk to send business his way.

Rothan took a seat at the bar and ordered a cup of shein. Next to him at the bar he was surprised to see two ashlanders, the woman was looking at the man and had just lit up some hackle-lo.

[Dantrag]

Dralas, Balmora

Dralas did indeed recognize the hand signal, but it caught him off guard. At first glance, the woman beside him seemed to be any other Balmora visitor, but there was little doubting her heritage if she knew such a sign. He watched her walk away, wondering what to do once she returned. The proper way to respond to her sign would be with a gift, but Dralas had nothing to give and not enough money to buy anything.

His food was placed in front of him, and seconds later, the ashlander woman came back and sat beside him. He sat silently, still chewing hackle-lo as he looked at her and then his meal. He slid the plate in front of her. The gift was taken care of, now he just needed to say something. Another dunmer sat down next to him, but he barely gave it another thought.

"We're both pretty far from home," he said to the woman, "What brings you here?"

This post has been edited by Dantrag: Dec 30 2008, 07:51 PM

[minque]

Rianne, Balmora

She bit her lip when the young ashlander gave her his meal, she knew her sign could be interpreted as that, as the appropriate thing was to give her something..yes that was customary that was the ancient tradition. But in this case it was a bit unfortunate, since she had understood the man probably had no money left, and he was hungry. Now it would be very rude of her not to accept his gift, but she had to think of something to give him in return. Money was really not a problem for her, she had if not plenty, so enough ..

"Right, we are" Rianne smiled at him. " I'm here to join the caravan to Ghostfence, is that your business here as well" she continued, smiling friendly at him.

Then she put her hand on his forearm and whispered;

"I thank you for your consideration, it will be rewarded...I am Rianne....from the Ahemmusa tribe"

She didn't tell her last name, it wasn't important...for now. She was deeply considering what could be appropriate to give him in return..

In the meantime she took a bite of the roasted rat..it was ok, but she wasn't very hungry, so she made a gesture and said:

"We could share this! It's too much for me anyway..."

Then she put her pouch with hackle-lo leaves on the counter, between them, hoping he would understand that he could help himself to it if he wanted.

[jack cloudy]

Eno Arval, eight plates

After receiving the key to his room, Eno went upstairs to check it out. The room he found was a tad cramped and spartan, but kept clean so in his opinion, it had been worth the money.
"The bed won't fall apart when a mosquito lands on it. That's certainly an improvement over the last tavern I visited." He chuckled.

A rumble in his stomach alerted him to the time. He hadn't eaten since the last time the Siltstrider stopped for a rest, several hours ago. Now, he decided, was the time to remedy this.
"But should I leave my posessions here? Hmm....I'd better not. Leaving valuables in a room that is likely to have its lock picked and be burgled at least once a week is a risk I'm not willing to take."

He went back downstairs into the main room, which had filled even more during the time he had been upstairs. It had gotten to the point that the bartender had hired a temporary aid and waiters rushed about with one plate balanced on each hand, loaded with enough cups to break safety regulations. Miraculously, no cups had broken on the floor...yet.

Eno approached the bar, near a couple of Dunmer who appeared to be making attempts at sharing a romantic diner and a priest.
"Good afternoon. Please don't mind me." He said by way of greeting.
"Not the best place and time for romance, nor am I used to seeing a priest sitting at a bar and drinking. Oh well, that's youth I suppose." He shrugged. There was no place left at the bar to sit, so instead he stood behind them and waved his hand till the temporary aide came to him.
"I'd like some fried crab meat, as well as a cup of Mazte." Eno ordered and gazed around the room.
"I'll be sitting over there." He said, having noticed one last free table tucked away in a corner.

After paying, he made his way through the crowd to the free corner he'd spotted.
"Ah, finally. A place to rest the old weary legs. I think I'll get back to work while waiting for the cook to do his magic." He murmured to himself and took out both the flute and his scalpel again. He stripped off some bits of bone and then put his lips to the mouthpiece and blew. A shrill, earpiercing shriek hurled through the room, only to be quickly drowned out by the noise of the patrons.
"Still needs a lot of work. Right now, it would turn an ancestor into a puddle of ectoplasm within seconds." Eno judged with a dissapointed frown and got back to working with the scalpel.

This post has been edited by jack cloudy: Dec 31 2008, 11:49 AM

[Dantrag]

Dralas, Balmora

"Well if you're an Ahemmusa you may not like me so much," he said lightheartedly, "Dralas, of the Erabenimsun."

The two tribes were almost polar opposites. The Ahemmusa were very relaxed, peaceful folk, while the Erabenimsun were warlike and often overly proud. He saw the difference between the two highlighted when Rianne offered to share her gift. The Ahemmusa viewed such a gesture as helping the clan as a whole, whereas it was an insult to return a gift to an Erabenimsun. Dralas was aware of the difference though, and chose not to be offended. Besides, he was hungry.

"To answer your question, though, I'm going to Ghostgate as well. The caravan I'm on leaves tomorrow. Yours?"

[minque]

Rianne, Balmora

Her eyes narrowed a bit when she heard Dralas was an Erabenimsun.

"Crap, I have offended him, but he seems not to care about it so much, hmmm let's make another approach then"

"Ahh, yes, we should be on the same caravan then...but about liking you or not...well I prefer to judge a person for what he is instead of what tribe he belongs to, and mind you I'm really not a typical Ahemmusa, you'll see!"

She lit another hackle-lo and looked sternly at Dralas.

"So Dralas of Erabenimsun, I have a business-proposition for you; you see I lost the main part of my clothes due to a very nasty silt-strider journey here, so what you see on me is what I have...in total!" She didn't think it would be necessary to explain more, Dralas must have felt the odour from her clothes when he entered.

"Now do you have an extra robe or shirt I can buy? I think it's gonna be too cold traveling to Ghostfence in this lousy shirt...besides I do not fancy visiting some fine clothier here in town, it makes me feel awkward..oh and I can pay you, no problem!"

"This just can't be insulting right? By Nirn you never know with these Erabenimsun"


Rianne leaned back and took a deep sip of her brandy, wondering if she'd fancy another one..