|
Post by Simmo33 on Mar 2, 2009 17:37:28 GMT
Liniad sat at a table in the Five Claws Lodge. He was accompanied by two others, neither of which he had spoken to before. But he quickly started conversation and soon they were laughing like they'd known each other for years. Then again, they had been drinking.
Lin had never been to the lodge before. In fact, he had never been to Leyawin before. He had been a travelling healer for a few years now, moving from town to town to earn just enough money to survive. The job was rarely fascinating, but he enjoyed it all the same. Each patient would have their own stories to tell and he liked to be around other people.
That was why he had dropped into the lodge. In each town he visited, Lin would be sure to come to an inn and listen to all the different kinds of people interacting with each other.
It was while he was doing this that he overheard someone at the table next to him,
"You see, Emperor Septim, gods rest his soul, made a purchase some time before his death, and it is ready to be received from Archon, on the eastern coast of Argonia. As speed and the safety of the delivery and cargo are top priorities, I am hastily trying to assemble a crew to aid in the delivery."
Liniad listened intently. The usual conversations he overheard were about the weather and other small talk. This was much more interesting. The man continued talking.
"The pay is excellent, and I would gladly discuss the matter further if you would allow me to take a seat."
Liniad thought to himself. I could use the money. I enjoy my work but it doesn't pay too well. I'm sure a healer would come in handy on a long voyage, too. He got up and approached the man.
"Hello! My name is Liniad." He smiled, "Would you be interested in taking a healer with you on this journey?"
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Mar 2, 2009 22:13:35 GMT
Messala paused for a moment after three different people spoke to him in fairly rapid succession, and he mulled over the words of each for a moment.
Finally he blinked, and said to the healer, "Come, have a seat, we'll talk about it in a group." Folding his hands on the table, he took a deep breath, mentally preparing a basic outline of what he was about to say. "Right then, first of all, let me elaborate on my proposition, to all of you. For this journey into Argonia, I am looking for hired men and women willing to make the trip with us. By 'us' I mean the crew of the Partisan and I. Captain gro-Nakak has very graciously put forth his vessel, a caravel, for use. And by 'put forth', I mean 'he was paid,'" added Messala flatly.
"As anyone with any experience south of Colovia knows, the Marshes get a might treacherous as one gets farther into them. So, with the goal of ensuring a more safe and less difficult delivery, I have taken it upon myself to seek out more help for the trip." He made eye contact with each person at this point. "You will be payed by me personally, not the Empire. If any of you are willing to take on the journey, I will gladly go over the details of the trip itself on the Partisan."
"Now then, as for your personal inquiries..."
Messala looked to Zanna, not before casting another glance at the metal dragon in now mild wonder. "Firstly, I do not hold the title of 'lord', so don't bother. Secondly, as far as the abruptness of the departure, I cannot help that. If it is any help, the journey shouldn't take any longer than two months, by our estimation, and that is in the worst of cases. Besides," he added, the corner of his mouth turning upward very slightly, "in my experience, seizing the moment usually yields beneficial rewards. Oh, and as for your usefulness on the ship, there is no shortage of roles to be filled, I assure you; in any case, Argonia may benefit from a few new inventions, or the mind of an inventor."
He turned next to Alyssa, this time with a slightly more apprehensive look. "My lady, I think you may be misunderstanding the circumstances of both the journey, and of our hiring you. We are not required to provide anything- it is being offered you. And we are offering a room that is no more or less that of anyone else. We can, however, see about a room on the lower decks. As for the details- we will be stocking up on supplies here in Leyawin, and the we will be navigating through the rivers of Argonia, making stops in Rockgrove, Seaspring, and potentially Rockpark on the way to Archon. On the way back, we will be sailing along the outer coast of the continent, back to Salernum, which is a more secure ground. As far as payment," here he lowered his voice as to not rouse the less savory patrons that may be within earshot, "you will receive a very small portion of it now, and more portions, increasingly larger, will be payed each time we dock." Messala once again made quick eye contacts with each person. "Six thousand drakes a piece. I know that isn't exactly extravagant, but it's far more than you could get from an average Fighters Guild contract."
Finally, he leaned back in his chair and turned to the newest man who had come forth. "As for you, yes, a healer would be a very, very good addition to the journey. I am sure we will have need for you, should you be interested."
He looked around at the group and smiled. Quite a productive day, so soon. I do hope they aren't difficult... He quickly banished the thought and said, cheerfully, "So! What do you say? Questions? Ideas? Miscellaneous?"
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Mar 3, 2009 10:03:21 GMT
Zanna couldn't find anything to say. Her eyes were wide and her lips were slightly parted in surprise. Six thousand drakes? she thought, awed by the idea of it. She might have pledged herself then and there, but her brain caught up with her.
Six thousand drakes? For what? A cruise? Somehow, she very much doubted it. She put up her hand awkwardly, like a child in school, and asked, "Um... what exactly are we doing once we get there, if you don't mind me asking. Oh! And will there be food and such already provided, or are we expected to pay expenses such as that?" she tagged on the end.
Erloire gazed curiously at the healer, his lids opening fully in a stare rather than a threatening leer. He leapt from Zanna's shoulder to land, skittering, on the table. Zanna's shoulder bore clear wounds from his sudden departure, but again, she didn't make a sound.
Erloire approached the healer, sniffing cautiously- as if he could smell. His tail twitched lightly in anticipation, and his wings shuffled excitedly. He stretched up his neck, sitting back on his haunches, trying to get a better look at the man, giving a quiet, curious whistle.
Zanna watched him nervously, and anyone could see by the crook of her fingers that she was ready to spell him should anything go wrong.
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Mar 3, 2009 22:26:09 GMT
Messala paused momentarily to watch the dragon investigate the healer, nearly as much curiosity in the baron's eyes as were in those of Erloire. Breaking the stare, he looked back to Zanna with a start.
"Once in Archon, we will simply receive the cargo and begin the return journey home. That is," he stopped, staring into the table as he spoke, "what I call home. Salernum. Any of you may return to Cyrodiil by your own means once in Archon, as the return journey will be significantly less hazardous, given our course. Chancellor Ocato has deemed the Marshes too risky to brave, at least with the cargo on board." Once more, his disdain for the Chancellor's methods slipped past his guard.
"Not to say, of course," he said quickly, "that we're just going to dump you all off on the other side of the continent. No, you're perfectly welcome to accompany the ship back, though the return journey may be a might longer. As I said before, the entire journey, there and back again, will be two months in length at most."
"And as for food," he added, "it will be provided from the ship's supply, but please keep in mind that this is by no sense of the word a pleasure cruise...don't expect to be eating like the Count of Leyawin." A few scenes from last night's dinner flashed into his mind briefly, before being gladly dispelled. "We do, however, have two fine cooks on board straight from Helstrom," he said cheerfully, "so you'll have to get used to Argonian cooking. Which is quite good, I assure you," he added hastily in response to a look given him by Witseidutsei, the Argonian woman behind the inn's counter.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Mar 6, 2009 12:05:38 GMT
OOC: Where have Simmo and Chaos disappeared off to? I was waiting for them to post... IC:
Zanna frowned thoughtfully at Messala, her green eyes- sickly rather than vibrant- troubled. "It all seems," she murmured, grabbing Erloire's tail and dragging him back to her. "Very far away."
The little dragon- having peeled away much of the table in his attempts to escape her grip, bit her hand in retribution. Zanna winced and her finger's crooked in a spell- green light glowed around Erloire as he froze in place.
She looked at Messala. "Why do you need such an array of people? How dangerous is this going to be- yes," she said, answering the part of her question she already knew, "I understand that the journey itself will be hazardous at best- but it seems almost to me that you're looking for a guard."
"I am not a guard," she said, pointing out the obvious. "The most dangerous situations I have been in have involved daedra I summoned as a young girl and failed experiments that have blown up in my own face. Generally, these have not been life or death situations- just the usual risks in being a mage and inventor. While I am considering taking you up on your offer, I still have to know- are you asking us to go as protection? Because I can protect," she said. "But I can't fight. And if that's what you want, I feel like I have a right to know that, at least."
Usually seeming so air-headed and zany, Zanna seemed quite serious now.
|
|
|
Post by Vrek on Mar 7, 2009 0:29:13 GMT
Tyrol paced back and forth slowly, well, more slowly then he usually would, which could still require some to jog every few steps to keep pace with him. Each footfall ended with a loud series of clacks as the cleats on his boots met the cobblestone in quick succession.
"You could sit down, ya know!" A friendly, perhaps mocking, shout came from over his shoulder. No matter the connotation, it didn't negatively effect the scout.
"I'm none too fond of standing still, thanks." He returned. The man replied with a laugh, and a 'suit yourself', before returning to his work.
The man was a dock worker, infact, and at the moment Tyrol was whittling away the time until Baron Gratius Messala returned. The captain of the ship said he had gone out, but didn't say to where. This was where the paper he had seen said to apply, so he would wait. Afterall, this seemed like one of the few steady jobs he could hope to get these days. Fewer and fewer people were traveling these days.
So, he would test his patience and pace here until the Baron returned.
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Mar 10, 2009 1:18:09 GMT
"I am not looking for guards," Messala said firmly to Zanna, folding his hands on the table. "If I were, I'd be going to the Fighters Guild. I am looking for people who are useful, and people who actually want to accompany us. To a bunch of hired mercenaries, this would be merely a job, and possibly a more unpleasant one. I don't want employees. The mind of an adventurer is a safer bet," he said wryly, eying each individual at the table.
"As for danger, Argonia is an unpredictable place. I cannot say with a clear conscience that we will be unhindered, nor can I say that we will be hindered by anything. At the very least, I can safely say that I do not expect great difficulty- not great difficulty at least."
"But to answer your question directly S- er, Zanna, protection would be greatly appreciated. The less damage done, to the personnel or otherwise, the better."
|
|
|
Post by Simmo33 on Mar 10, 2009 17:15:34 GMT
"I'm sure I could help with that." said Lin, still smiling.
"There's nothing I love more than making sure people are fit and healthy." he continued. He looked at each person at the table to try and make them feel more friendly around him. He turned back to Messala.
"But I don't like to fight. However, I will fight if I feel it is for a just cause, like protecting a friend such as yourself."
Should I have called him a friend already? We only just met. I hope they don't think I'm being too forward...
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Mar 14, 2009 14:16:18 GMT
"Yes, I feel you will have plenty with which to occupy yourself, sir," said Messala, thoughtfully. "It will take some time for one's body to get used to the air of Argonia, so a few illnesses are to be expected. We cannot allow ourselves to be slowed down by poor health- your presence will be an asset, I am sure."
He paused for a moment, tapping a finger on the table as he thought for a moment. "Well," he said, looking back up again, "I will leave you all to think about it or discuss it amongst yourselves for a moment. I am going to buy food from the innkeeper." With that, Messala stood up to head for the bar, but paused to turn to the table and add, "Just tell me if anyone would like something as well, if you have not yet eaten."
-----------------------------------------------
"He said he'd wait for the baron, why bother?" "Because he's pacing out there like a hungry dog, we don't want him scaring away other people." "But-" Orusk gave the Bosmer a look that shut down any further protest. The Bosmer, defeated, simply nodded, his lips thin from restraining another complaint.
The Bosmer, Fornlir, was the second-in-command of the Partisan, second only to Orusk. No one could dispute his experience as a sailor, but that was his only experience; he wasn't much of a diplomat, but he was more of one than Orusk was.
Emerging from below deck, Fornlir craned over the loads of crates being moved onto the ship to get a look at the Breton. The man was fairly easy to spot: pacing to and fro energetically, just outside the ship, fairly distinct from the rest of the sailors milling about.
Heading toward the edge of the ship, as close as he was willing to get, Fornlir tried to wave down the Breton from his place, not too far from him. "Uh- sir? Sir! The captain's sent me! I've been asked to speak to you in Baron Messala's place until he returns! Eh- unless you don't want to. That's fine too."
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Mar 30, 2009 18:30:40 GMT
OOC: Mechanical Dragon post, for the sake of keeping this going! IC:
Erloire crawled across the table, head low, body hunched. As he crawled, pieces of cutlery disappeared from the table, becoming tightly clenched in his claws.
He gazed at the dark mage; through the fires that filled his eye slots, he could see a haze around her, like spirits pulling at her hair and whispering in her ears. He lowered his eyes and slunk past her, to land lightly on the ground, a blur of pink magic padding his landing. Darting under her chair, he then sat back on his haunches. He swished his tail gently in anticipation, the only sound he made the quiet clicking of the joints of his tail and the nearly inaudible hiss of the flames that fuelled him.
A fork in one paw and a knife in the other, he stared at her leg.
And then he very carefully moved to stick his fork into the necromancer's leg.
---------------
Zanna watched Messala rise to buy himself some food, and heaved a great sigh. This all seemed so very strange to her. She put her chin in her hands, and fixed her sickly eyes on Liniad and Alyssa. "How're you guys feeling about this?" she asked wearily. "Because I'm feeling pretty mixed up about it."
Her brow furrowed for a moment as her eyes swept across the table, and she sat a little straighter. "Has... anyone seen Erloire?"
|
|
|
Post by Chaos 303030 on Mar 30, 2009 19:14:26 GMT
Alyssa had been tapping her leg absentmindedly and whistling an old tune from Skyrim, and had quite a steady rhythm going, before she felt an incredibly sharp prick in the back of her leg. She screamed, jumped up on one foot, and held the leg, a small fork-like opening in the back of it. She swore once, clasping a hand around the wound. A soft blue light squeezed itself out of the crack between her palm and the leg, giving out a quiet hum. She looked to Zanna and laughed, though with a corner of her mouth turned down.
"Yes, though I believe it was he who saw me!" She looked down to her chair, listening for that cold, mechanical whir.
"Little toothy there took a chomp into my leg! If he wasn't so special, I'd have Clyde give him a piece o' my mind I would!" She growled, moving over to occupy Messala's chair instead.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Mar 30, 2009 22:03:57 GMT
OOC: Chaos, if this isn't to your liking, feel free to have flung Erloire away before he could do anything. IC:
Zanna leaped to her feet when Alyssa screamed- a very quick reaction from one who was used to disaster all around her.
As Alyssa moved, she silently prayed that the cause wasn't once again her fault, but then Alyssa clarified it quite well. "Yes," she said, causing Zanna's heart to sink. "Though I believe it was he who saw me!"
Her laughter seemed to suggest that it was at least forgivable, though, so with a worried look, Zanna sank back into her seat.
"I-I'm so sorry about that!" she stammered, fumbling with the words in her rush to apologise. "I swear, I don't know why he does that, he's just an animus, but he's so completely uncontrollable, no centurion ever behaved in this manner, it's-" she stopped in a flash of light Erloire appeared on Alyssa's lap, fork and knife raised.
That's new... she tjhought numbly as she held her breath. Erloire swished his tail and threw his fork and knife aside, tilting his head and clacking at Alyssa, but this time without his eye slits narrowed in a leer... he seemed positively curious, or as curious as a metal dragon could look. He shuffled closer to her body and stretched up onto his hind legs, peering into her face and whistling softly.
|
|
|
Post by Tom Bombadil on Apr 2, 2009 12:42:35 GMT
While Messala spoke in a friendly manner to Witsidutsei, the innkeeper, the door opened again, and two Argonian men came in, glancing about them uneasily. Messala recognized them as the two cooks he had hired for the ship.
The Argonians, Weiat-Khal and Turul, were both from Helstrom, though they spoke barely any Cyrodiilic. This happened to be their first actual experience outside Argonia. Messala thought that they were excellent cooks, by his standards at least, though they kept to themselves for the most part.
They both acknowledged Messala upon entering, and soon afterward were forced by necessity to use him as a translator between they and Witsidutsei; they had come to inquire about some local spices and their availability. The poor innkeeper likely had never used anything besides salt and some basil in her foods, but the cooks did not seem phased by what was to them inconceivable.
Messala spoke enough of their native tongue to get by, but only by a bare minimum. Turul had to speak his version of Cyrodiilic to try to inform Messala because of this.
"Man walking is at ship. Impatient you for waiting," he said, or rather forced out those sounds in syllables. Regardless, Messala understood, and hastily suspended his dealings with Witsidutsei.
Briefly appearing again at the table (after raising an eyebrow at Erloire's stare at Alyssa. "I'm sorry, but I've a visitor to deal with back at the ship. I must have been here longer than I thought....my apologies, but do come to the ship if you decide that you would like to join. Good day," he said with a bow to the table, and was the next moment out the door, the Argonians perplexedly watching him go.
|
|
|
Post by Vrek on Apr 3, 2009 6:47:15 GMT
Left, right, left right. Turn. One, two three four... Tyrol counted each step in his head, still waiting on the baron to arrive. Counting his steps was what he did when he was waiting. He hated having nothing to do, it was... distracting, to say the least.
The scout was on his 224th lap when he noticed he was being hailed. It was a Bosmer, one of the few he spoke with before. "Uh- sir? Sir! The captain's sent me! I've been asked to speak to you in Baron Messala's place until he returns! Eh- unless you don't want to. That's fine too."
Tyrol just shrugged, though, talking was far better then just pacing around. With a friendly smile, he jogged closer to the elf, saying, "Yeah, it's fine. A lot better to have a chat then sit around twiddling your thumbs, 'tis a fact. So, talk to me."
OOC: Shoddy post, but it was written around midnight, and I am a man who needs his beauty sleep here.
|
|
|
Post by Vicorva on Apr 8, 2009 19:15:34 GMT
Messala swept out of the room. Zanna sat there, frozen with indecision, before leaping to her feet. "I want to come!" she squealed, racing after the nobleman. Erloire leapt from Alyssa's lap to latch onto her satchel, clawing his way up to her shoulder as she ran.
Zanna was not in brilliant physical condition, and soon she was puffing, so calling upon a pinch of magic new strength went into her legs and muscles and soon she was haring off after him.
"Messala," she huffed as she skidded into place beside him. "I want... to come..."
|
|