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Post by Essien on Apr 9, 2009 16:16:27 GMT -5
((This thread marks the beginning of our first story told in conjunction with members of the Darkenvane guild. It's intended for our Order fellows, but Aleydis and I will be starting another thread soon that'll draw other members of the Kiss of Chroesh into the plot. Enjoy!))
A crisp spring morning found the patrons in the Salzenmund marketplace crawling about the gallows platform like ants round the base of their hill. The well-worn paths of business were troubled here and there by unexpected obstacles-- a town crier with his parchment, a fallen bushel of cabbages, two guardsmen who had stopped to share gossip-- and the people of Salzenmund paused and milled past them with the same dull bemusement that those insects would show negotiating a fallen twig. Among the larger impediments this day was a travelling merchant's wagon. The canvas of its canopy shone crimson and purple, and its sides and gate were cluttered with baskets bearing a chaos of trinkets.
Hamund Knessler squatted on an overturned crate by the wagon's wheel, steadying himself with a staff and smiling at those who found themselves forced to divert around him. His good cheer seemed impervious to the annoyed or distrustful glances cast over shoulders or around the edge of parcels, and his rich voice boomed to compete with the local hawkers.
"Rare goods! Perfumes from the shores of Ulthuan herself, where the elven ladies lie naked all the day long! Jewels bitten from the hearth-rock by the Dawi with their very teeth! All for you today, good people of Salzenmund, and today only, for princes demand my attendance!"
The merchant sighed and rubbed his thigh through the coarse cloth of his robe. "Bless me, but these mornings put an ache in the bone," he complained, for the mere pleasure of complaint. "Warmer weather soon, I pray. Rare goods! Never the like seen in all of Nor'land!"
A matron struggling by cast a surreptitious glance at Hamund and his wares. He grinned at her. She quickened her pace, wheezing softly with the effort.
The bearded man chuckled and raised his voice again. "Yaviel, be a dear and step down, would you? The good people of Salzenmund desire more than an old man and his tall tales." He paused. "And look you well for our sort of customer."
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Post by Aleydis on Apr 9, 2009 16:17:26 GMT -5
The wagon's gate swung open, the well-oiled hinges protesting hardly at all, and an elf maiden descended the steps on silent feet. The mass of her white hair hung unbound, lost against the snowy silk of her gown's simple cut, and the dove-grey eyes that turned to study the marketplace were cool. But there was a gentleness to her smile that appealed to the eye.
Steadying herself with a hand on the doorframe, Yaviel surveyed their prospects. She took in the hunched shoulders of the fleeing matron, the voyeurs, the whisperers, and the distance placed between their wagon and the stream of foot traffic. The moment of observation ended with a nod from the maid, a brief inclination of the head. Turning, every movement a dance, she produced a bolt of cloth from the stock still hidden within and then stepped to the merchant's side.
The fabric lacked the richness of the man's loud boasts, but its weave was fine and the embroidery delicate-- both caught the sunlight with a glow as clean and pure as the elf's rich spill of hair. She shook a length out over her arm.
"Simpler fare," Yaviel suggested quietly, her voice the purl of water over tumbled river-stones.
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Post by Teleri | Vitorio on Apr 10, 2009 10:09:52 GMT -5
Wandering the streets of Salzenmund a young man made his way from shop to shop. He wasn’t quite sure what he was looking for but he wanted to find something special, something unique. His love deserved nothing less special or unique than she was. He could have asked the merchant, Vincent, to order him something special but this was an effort he would like to make on his own. He knew that when he saw the perfect gift it would jump out at him.
So far Vitorio had been disappointed in the offerings. He hadn’t found anything that he considered special or unique enough. Several of the shops had been large and prosperous but nothing had sparked more than a momentary interest. He sighed trying to think of another market he could visit that perhaps would have more enticing wares.
“Rare goods! Never the like seen in all of Nor'land!" a voice shouted to make itself heard over the bustling crowd. The call of the merchant caught Vitorio’s attention, perhaps something amongst these rare goods would be just what he was looking for. Slowly he made his way through the crowd heading toward the wagon of a traveling merchant. As he got closer to the wagon he heard the hawker call out “Yaviel, be a dear and step down, would you? The good people of Salzenmund desire more than an old man and his tall tales." He paused. "And look you well for our sort of customer."
From out of the wagon a lovely elf maiden appeared. With a grace native to her kind she exited the wagon. Vitorio was sure that many would find her beauty and her grace intoxicating but his heart was full of another. Glancing at the maiden he didn’t feel the spark, the heat he felt from his beloved Faustine. As the elf maiden spoke, holding out an example of her wares Vitorio approached the wagon and the merchants.
“What can I help you with young man?” the merchant asked in a booming voice.
“I am looking for something for my love, something lovely and unique,” Vitorio said with a smile at the merchant.
“Well I have many things, many that I’m sure would entice your love!” the merchant said with a broad smile. “What kinds of things would you be looking for? Perfume? The finest cloth? Jewelry?”
Vitorio thought for a moment, he didn’t think perfume would be right and he had no idea what he would do with cloth. “If I could see your selection of jewelry perhaps something would catch my eye.”
”Ho, ho!” boomed the merchant. “Yaviel, please show this young man our selection.”
Moving with the grace of a swan the elf maiden reached back into the wagon and pulled out a small box with a glass top. Holding it out in front of her she spoke quietly, “Do you see anything you like sir?”
Looking over the selection held before him, he examined the different stones and their settings. A certain item caught his eye and suddenly, he knew. “Yes,” he though, “That would be perfect.”
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Post by Clarah | Margret on Apr 10, 2009 10:13:15 GMT -5
There was a sweet simplicity to the comings and goings of the folk of Salzenmund that put Clarah at ease. The market around the gallows bustled with people but they were simple folk of the countryside, many dressed in brown as she herself was. There was none of the pomp and frivolity of the Altdorf market and that too put Clarah at ease. The setting may have been far from the drab little town at the southern end of the Empire where she had grown up but the atmosphere of a out of the way country manor remained.
In the crowd of mothers and children, soldiers and clerks Clarah lost herself to a morning's ramble amongst the goods and wares being sold, content to look here and there. Occasionally she would shuffle to a stop, and make hesitant conversation with a merchant before something new was added to the shallow basket that dangled off her arm. A fresh bunch of carrots for Nadzieja, a few carved wooden spools and some coarse brown thread to wind upon them and finally some thick parchment, too coarse for a true scribe or scholar but good enough for children to learn their letters on.
With her errands finished Clarah contented herself with wandering around looking for the road that would take her back to Salzenmund's modest temple. As she walked a bright flash of red caught her eye and she looked up to see a bright breasted robin perched on the end a branch filled with fresh spring growth. Looking up she did not notice the little rise in the road, or the man leaning idly on his staff by the wagon wheel and as her heavy, sensible boots caught on a loose rock Clarah stumbled.
A gasp of surprise escaped her lips and Clarah caught herself, clutching onto her basket for a moment as she shook. A few of the nearby crowd paused, looking at the young priestess before shrugging and moving on.
“Bless you, miss. You alright?” came a kind voice and Clarah was forced to turn her whole body about to see the man. Her one eye searching about before finding him low to the ground, crouched at the base of a wagon wheel.
“Y-yessir,” she stammered and delivered a rough and inelegant curtsy in the man's direction.
“Quite a little stumble there, perhaps you'd best rest a moment. Maybe have a look at what we've brought and pass a little time before going on, eh?” There was a gentleness to his smile that lulled whatever fear she would have had in talking to a stranger and soon Clarah found herself nodding along with his words.
“Oh, yessir, of course.” she murmured, smiling down at the man as he leaned on his staff. As she shuffled carefully around the wagon she searched the goods for something familiar. There were trinkets and little treasures, but none of them seemed to suit her. Perfumes and dyes all too rich in color and scent, and then at last there were bolts of cloth woven in a delight of pattern and color. Clarah smiled as she looked at them. The fabrics were woven with such care, such delicate craftsmanship that she blushed just thinking of what her clumsy hand would do to them.
Just as she turned to go a single bolt of cloth caught her eye. It was not the rich or sombre hues of red and blue that danced across other cloths, nor even a bright and cheerful yellow or green. The bolt she saw was brown and rough woven of a light lambswool. Clarah looked around once and then shuffled forward, reaching out one hand to touch the weave of the cloth. Unlike the others there was nothing remarkable about this bolt in either color or pattern, but oh, how soft it was. As her fingers trailed over the edges of the cloth a soft sigh escaped Clarah's lips. If she had ever felt something so soft, so smooth to the touch she couldn't remember it now.
Hesitantly she raised her hand to catch the attention of the merchant after she'd finished with the young, dark haired man. As she waited Clarah's hand trailed up and down the length of the cloth, caressing the softness that would soon be hers.
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Post by Ashelyn Barrows on Apr 10, 2009 12:37:28 GMT -5
"Get outta my way you lummox! Can't ya see I'm walking here!" cried a woman's voice as she nearly tripped over a wandering halfling. The portly halfling meeped at the armored woman and scuttled off quickly, knocking over some barrels in the process. Sighing, she heaved her pack filled with vegetables over her back and pushed some of her thick auburn hair out of her eyes.
Ashelyn always hated going to the market. It just seemed like such a mundane task, and having to rub elbows with lowlifes and possible heretics made her cringe. The only part that she found mildly enjoyable was the wide selection of food to be found. Though she wished she could still farm it herself, this was a close second for sure. Rich carrots for a stew, tasty apples for a pie, all were here at her fingertips.
As she perused a cage of chickens, a young girl wearing plain brown robes with her hair neatly pinned into a bun caught her eye. The other girl was at a richly decorated wagon, examining a bolt of simple cloth with interest. Ashelyn dropped the chickens and trotted over to the smaller girl that she recognized, hoping to strike up a conversation.
"Allo there Clara, how're ya doin' today? Fancy seein' you here, miss!" the priestess greeted warmly, her expression breaking into an open smile. Her blue eyes scanned the other cloths, each one was rich and unique in their own ways. As she smoothed some pink silk under her gauntlet, she secretly wished that she had picked up sewing as a hobby. Looking up, she noticed a mysterious, yet graceful elf showing a familiar bright wizard a box of jewelry. Grinning, Ashelyn waved to him, hoping he would notice her presence.
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Post by Essien on Apr 11, 2009 10:58:31 GMT -5
Hamund settled back and smiled as Vitorio pored over the Asur maiden's box of bangles. "Jewelry? The gentleman is heart-struck to be sure," he teased, without rancor. "Don't you let him off easily, Yaviel." The merchant's staff-tip bumped and nosed through the dirt towards the young wizard's boots, and for a moment it seemed as if he meant to point his jest by tapping the fellow on the back of his calf. But Hamund abandoned the effort half-made, after the fashion of the aged, and contented himself with a sigh.
"Spring, and young men in love. It'll be good trading today."
It was then that he caught Clarah hovering nearby with her parcel. Hamund held her for a moment in the corner of his twinkling blue eye, and his grin curled up on one side, as if the two of them shared a silent secret. Once he was certain that a blush was on its way to the young priestess' cheek, he spoke.
"Now, blessed lady, I am not so pretty perhaps as my companion. But I'm no less a merchant for that, I hope? Come and show me what you have there."
Hamund beckoned her with his free hand, leaning foward a little for a better look at her chosen prize. A deep, rich chuckle bubbled unbidden past his beard. "Lady," he declared, "I believe you have lit upon the very humblest of all my wares. Sigmar bless you for it." He watched the one-eyed girl's fingers passing back and forth over the cloth. "Tell me, what do you have in mind for that bolt? Perhaps I can help you further."
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Post by Aleydis on Apr 11, 2009 12:49:57 GMT -5
Yaviel balanced the box on her forearm, freeing a hand to lift its glass top back on its hinges. Hamund's good-natured warning provoked a silent nod from the maiden; her serene gaze remained focused on the Bright Wizard's face, as if the answer to all of the world's mysteries might be found in the handsome arrangement of his youthful features. The others now gathering around the little wagon summoned her attention not at all.
"Is it love? Truly love?" The merchant dipped into the box, twining a crimson ribbon around her fingers to lift it for Vitorio's inspection. A charm dangled from the silky twist of fabric, gold wire wrapped around carnelian buffed and polished in the shape of a heart. It was intended to be worn as a necklace, a choker of silk and gold and stone.
Yaviel extended this trinket towards the young man but she drew her hand back at the last moment, as if hesitating in passing it over to him. "You must be certain, though. There is power in symbols. If it is only heat you feel...jewelry will make a promise your heart will not keep."
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Post by Teleri | Vitorio on Apr 13, 2009 17:47:41 GMT -5
“Yes, it is truly love. She is my beloved, without her I am lessened,” said Vitorio his mind drifting, as it often did, to Faustine. His eyes twinkled as he watched the graceful elf maiden dip her hand into the box and remove the beautiful charm. Instantly he knew that this was what he had been looking for, this was the finery he would give to his darling Faustine, to remind her of his love and devotion.
As Yaviel extended the necklace towards him he reached out to lay his hands upon it, to inspect it more closely. As she drew her hand back a confused look bloomed on his face. Intently watching her he listened as she told him of the powers of symbols and again questioned his love.
Vitorio smiled, “I am quite certain Signorina. My heart is full to bursting with love for the most lovely and perfect girl I have ever seen. Of course there is heat,” he grinned, “how could there not be? But it is so much more, this jewelry will not make a promise my heart cannot keep.”
As he looked upon the lovely necklace of silk, gold and stone he knew that he must have this. “Please, tell me what is the price? I am more than willing to pay.”
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Post by Clarah | Margret on Apr 13, 2009 18:13:30 GMT -5
Clarah trembled slightly as she recognized Ashelyn's voice and her shoulders slumped inward instinctively, making her look smaller than she actually was. With one hand occupied by holding her basket and the other possessively hiding the soft brown cloth from view she curtsied awkwardly to the other priestess. For a moment Clarah hesitated, unsure of what to do or say to this woman she barely knew for what she did know of Ashelyn was troublesome.
Then a soft, kind voice broke the silence, rescuing her from her uncertainty. With a tiny smile and a polite bob of her head Clarah turned to look at Hamund, her cheeks coloring as he spoke to her.
“I- I'm not rightly sure what I'll make of it, Mister.” she said at last, her eye drawn down towards the ground. “Maybe... a light cloak. It isn't so cold now, but a nice cloak to help keep the chill off at night – that'd be nice.” The more she spoke on it the more certain she became. Yes, a cloak would be nice, perhaps even something with a little hood in case of rain.
As she looked down she took in the state of her clothing. Brown linen, brown leather off set by lighter beige here and there, the only bright spot of color an elaborate amulet that hung about her neck. Finally she worked up the courage to peek at Hamund where he crouched in front of her, her eye lifting hesitantly to meet his.
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Post by Ashelyn Barrows on Apr 14, 2009 1:19:19 GMT -5
Ashelyn was distracted for a moment, staring at Clarah's awkward curtsy until she heard the smooth, kind voice of the merchant as he spoke to the young priestess. She still held the pink silk in her hands, its fine composition flowed over her fingers like a liquid. It was weird, so she shoved it forcefully back into the shelve.
The priestess sighed through her nose, turning to look at the merchant from over Clarah's small shoulder. He had a funny look about him, something subtle that she couldn't put a finger on. Probably foreign. It started with a slight narrowing of the eyes, the scrunching up of the nose, the furrowing of the brows. This progressed until Ashelyn was giving Hamund one of the nastiest stink eyes ever seen. What was going on behind those blue eyes, no one could ever know but her, but whatever it was.. it wasn't good.
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Post by Essien on Apr 15, 2009 11:52:04 GMT -5
Hamund's attention meandered to the glowering priestess at Clarah's shoulder. For a moment he stared at her, dumbstruck, and then his lips contorted under his beard with sudden, half-repressed mirth.
"Look at this, now," he murmured to Clarah. The merchant leaned forward to pluck hurriedly at her shoulder, as if Ashelyn were some rare bird that might start from its branch before Clarah had turned to see it. "Just look at that sour face... your friend might be a villain from a street comedy. Where is her cane sword, eh? Ha!"
Hamund settled back again, laughing at his own jest until he began to wheeze. "Cane sword..." The bearded man shook his head and heaved a great, steadying sigh. "Bless me," he breathed, and looked a moist-eyed apology up at the taller priestess. "Forgive me my follies, sister. You have about you the look of someone who has been swindled. If so, you've come just in time to save your friend from making a bad bargain..."
The robed fellow flicked a glance over Clarah's choice, scarcely deigning to look. "If I may say so, blessed lady," he began, mildly embarrassed, "this is nothing. Common fare. I had it of a Bretonnian at the last market town who was breaking up business to head south again. But perhaps--"
The last word became a groan as Hamund struggled up from the crate on which he squatted and began to rummage beneath the gay, crimson flap of the wagon's cover. "Perhaps..." he stalled, poking about with his free hand, then finished, "Ah! Perhaps this will add a certain sparkle." The merchant turned and presented a metal spool wound with bright golden thread. Hamund's smile was just as golden.
"This, madam, is real Tilean passing thread. Just look at the tightness of the wrap," he bubbled, letting down a coil of it to dangle above the drab brown of Clarah's chosen bolt. It hung there between them, a sunbeam given shape and substance. "Not a hint of the core to be seen," Hamund went on proudly. "And that's the genuine article, lady, I promise you. Gold of the finest sort. Here, take it in your palm and feel the weight."
He made to let down the spool into Clarah's grasp. "Now that's a pound of metal if it's an ounce. You tell me."
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Post by Aleydis on Apr 15, 2009 12:05:52 GMT -5
"Of course there is heat," Yaviel echoed, and in her tone there was something that could pass for amusement. Her gaze swung from Vitorio's face to his arms, and the fire-shimmer of the designs emblazoned on his skin. "Your devotion to your love shines. It does you credit."
The maiden paused in her conversation to look at her traveling companion, and the drab ducklings gathered about his stool. She studied the priestesses in silence. The amusement that had brushed her voice then deepened the curve of her lips, upon hearing Hamund's remarks. Yaviel watched the man a moment longer-- perhaps concerned he might topple over while attempting to stand on the sticks he called legs-- then returned her focus to the Bright Wizard before her.
"I apologize, my friend. You spoke of price?"
Yaviel dangled the bauble over Vitorio's open palm, allowing him to take it for inspection if he so wished. "The craftsmanship is flawless, the materials of the highest quality. The stone itself is a gift of nature, I was told by its creator. He found it in a riverbed, it required only a little shaping, a little buffing... such wonders the world gives us.
"You will agree then, I am certain, that ten gold is a fair price to ask for such beauty. A small price for a token of true love."
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Post by Teleri | Vitorio on Apr 15, 2009 12:59:23 GMT -5
A flush spread across Vitorio's cheeks as the maiden spoke of heat and devotion. His eyes seemed to be locked onto the bauble she had presented and then hesitated in turning over. "Yes, and she knows of both my heat and my devotion. I just wish to present her with something, a powerful symbol as you say, of my love."
He didn't seem to notice her gaze and attention leave him and go back to her companion and the two priestesses. His thoughts were only on his beloved Faustine and the joy he would have in presenting her with such a lovely trinket. His thoughts were interrupted as the maiden returned her attention to him.
When the maiden held the bauble over his hand he could not help himself, he took in into his palm and inspected it closely. "A gift of nature," he said absentmindedly, "indeed it is flawless." He marveled at the stone and it's setting as he held it in him hand. He looked up at the maiden, a broad smile on his face and his eyes twinkled. "The world does give us many wonders, and I have found the greatest treasure of them all," he said in a wistful voice that more than hinted at what treasure he meant.
Vitorio did not even try to haggle as the maiden named the price. Instead he reached swiftly into his belt pouch to retrieve the gold, as though he were afraid she would take the offer back. Pulling out the coins he quickly counted out ten gold pieces.
"Yes Signorina, such a small price for a token of true love." He pulled another gold piece out of his pouch. "Here, this is for you, with my thanks," he said offering the gold to the maiden with a small bow.
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Post by Clarah | Margret on Apr 15, 2009 14:10:09 GMT -5
Hamund disappeared from view as Clarah glanced over her shoulder, turning her blinded eye towards the merchant in order to glimpse Ashelyn's face. Though she could not see the man's laugh it was evident enough in his words and a small smile curled about Clarah's mouth in response.
Laughter, light and soft bubbled up as the man continued speaking and Clarah found herself following him as he rummaged beneath the wagon's cover. As a coil of the thread he retrieved fell over the soft brown cloth it sharpened the contrast between the two objects. The dull brown seemed dirty and humble beneath the opulent golden coil. Clarah's lip trembled for a moment, the gold was beautiful, but with beauty came attention and with attention came other things as well.
The spool dangled for a moment before dropping into Clarah's palm and the girl gasped, for what the merchant had said was true enough. She marveled at the weight that the spool had, weighing it in her hand.
"Oh!" Clarah's mouth dropped open as the sun caught the thread, setting it alight. "Yessir, surely it is.. but, this is too fine."
With a hesitant motion she reached her hand out, offering the thread back to Hamund with a bashful smile. "T-that's too much for me, sir."
Quickly she looked around, her eye scanning the wares laid out for something to compliment on, lest the merchant think her rude. Immediately her eye fell on a blue spool of thread that had been left uncovered by the folded flap of the tent. She blinked slowly, taking in the exact hue of it for it was unrivaled by any natural blue she had ever seen.
"That one is very pretty, though." she offered in a breathless voice. "Don't think I've ever seen something so... blue."
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Post by Ashelyn Barrows on Apr 16, 2009 10:23:26 GMT -5
Ashelyn clenched her fists and put them squarely on her hips, raising her brows at the merchant. She opened her mouth to speak, but his laughing was so loud and long that she couldn't get any words out until he was finished. When it was over, she then leaned forward and wagged an accusing finger at the man.
"Watch yerself mister, I wouldn't be callin' a Holy Sister of Sigmar a street performer! I got a hammer, see? I also got some coin t' spend here, so its best ya don't be insulting yer customers!" she scolded the man, twisting her body so he could see the imposing weapon composed of hard steel and gold inlay at her side.
She then nodded to Clarah and stepped back, making the sign of the hammer. The priestess watched carefully as Hamund presented the golden string to her. It was of fine craft, that was for sure, though of no use to her if she couldn't sew. Ashelyn craned her neck over Clarah's shoulder, trying to get a better look at the stuff.
"Hey! Can I look at it?" she asked, holding out her gauntlets expectantly. If she couldn't sew with it, maybe she could make holy symbols with the sparkling thread. The shiny golden strands would look good attached to an icon of a twin tailed comet...
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