Golben

Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Fri Jul 20, 2012 2:17 am

"Ah, you honor me with your words Mr. Lazarus. There was a time in my life where such hosting would have been on a much grander scale, but the primitive people of Myrken Wood are not without their merits either. I find them to be a noble and resilient people, I am impressed daily by their stance against the troubles that test their fortitude. They have lost much and yet they do not leave, they remain and become stronger for it, ready to face the next challenge. They are lucky to have such a thoughtful Governor to lead them. Perhaps it was the work of your God." A tiny hint of a smile crept to his lips at that, the Councilor clearly thinking for a brief second or two before he continued.

He'd respond to the request to leave for the tour now and he'd bow his head slightly in agreement before getting up as well, moving for the entrance to the tent where he'd draw the flap back for the other man. "Of course. I would hate to let idleness come to your hands for too long, though I would be lying if I were to say that I hadn't enjoyed spending time in your company." He'd wait for the other man to pass through the entrance before he'd step out as well, noting that the fruit seemed to be having the intended effect. As Lazarus would step from the tent he might notice that a few of Berdini's foreign workers were lingering about a nearby station that one could assume was for first aid as a wood and leather litter was resting there near the men. One of them seemed to be a bit surprised at the pair that emerged from the tent, an eyebrow lifted towards the Councilor, though a sharp look in his direction seemed to have both men off busying themselves doing something else.

"Mmm, that's a rather complicated question Mr. Lazarus. What drew you to my camp I wonder?" He'd smile again, looking back at Lazarus. "I believe it was a sense of duty. I could have gone on for the rest of my life managing a theatre and performing my act, but there was a need for a Councilor of the Arts, someone who could bridge the way between the other performers and artists. A certain refinement is involved in a task like that and it's one that I believe the Governor recognized that I had. How could I turn away from a town in need? No I couldn't, could I?" He'd pause then considering what the other man said about secrets. "Oh on the contrary actually, think about art for a moment if you will. A great artist rarely reveals his finished work until it is complete. A bard might hole himself up in his room or a quiet clearing as he works on a new song. A painter locks the door to his studio until the painting is complete, and something as grand as this well... I like to consider it something as a sculpture crafted by the hands of many. I think while the Governor had the vision he will be as surprised as the rest of the population at it's magnificence once it's complete. But I elaborate far too much, a performer's tongue I'm afraid. Come, I will show you about."
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Re: Golben

Postby Lazarus » Tue Jul 24, 2012 12:47 pm

"This Rubble-Kai sounds like a land of wonders," he began as the Councilor briskly rejoined in conversation. "Why, what I've seen in a few moments is more wealth then I've seen in," he paused then while running errant fingers through a matted length of beard. "Well, in just 'bout ever, I should think! Sounds like you miss it sometimes," he ambled on with words as with steps as the two began their journey towards this secret masterpiece.

"I think we always miss home," Lazarus confessed with a glance for the ground, his mud-spattered boots, the earth that had become steadily harder and more durable, the memories and people left behinf. "No matter its nature, whether rich or poor, happy or miserable. Somethin' about home, indeed, to get the mind to wanderin'."

The sun brought a hand to those pine eyes, a grimace to lips coarse with familiarity of thirst. He licked his lips and savored the remnants of the exotic fruit Berdini had graced him with for a small but sweet feast. The surprised men at what appeared to be some medical care station caught his adjusting gaze for a moment, furrowed a visage into careworn lines, and silenced his concern as they briskly set off. No true injury prevented such brisk obedience.

"I do wonder Councilor, kindly if I may add," he glanced warmly towards his well-spoken host, "If it's an illusionist's habit to answer questions with questions." A friendly wink for the observation. "Not to offend, as I said I find your hospitality warm and gracious. Ser, a fine welcome to a land for this poor, backwater..." hesitation for what to call himself. "Err, man."

He shrugged at his lack of eloquence, but nodded as the Councilor spoke of masterpieces and unveilings. "Now, that reasonin' makes sense to me, it does. Like the groom not seein' the bride 'til they supposed to be wed, or a boy not seein' his present until just the right time. Your governor, and you yourself Ser Bernidinni," he drawled, "Must have a strong sense of duty to contain what must be a surprise that might somedays just be burstin' to get out. I think duty is often dismissed as a cold thing, I think it isn't, or doesn't need to be."

As they wandered along, his curious gaze darted aboutt heir surroundings and the hard work of the strange men hard-set to tasks meaningless in the finitude of their gestures and labors, given meaning only by his host, and only sercetively at that. With a growing sense of eagerness, Lazarus ambled along glad for the company and with attentive ears for the Councilor's guided tour.
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Fri Jul 27, 2012 2:06 am

"Ah Rub'al Kai. I do miss it sometimes yes, but I can enjoy the luxuries that I afforded there here without the notion of a tyrant hanging over my head. I believe that it perhaps the motivation for many to leave their homes isn't it? The young man who sets out on his own to be rid the oppression of his father? A common tale is it not?" He'd chuckle a little at that, glancing briefly over his shoulder at something before he motions Lazarus to come with him.

"You'll forgive my lack of description for each group of those working, I am trying to leave the end product as a surprise for even my workers and it's such a task, keeping secrets from each other. But each group of men are working on a small part that shall be delivered into completion at the end. I have those working with wood here " He'd say motioning towards a group of men who seemed to be assembling something that looked like walls. Though none of them seemed to form anything in particular, just straight sections of wall that were being sent off to other sets of workers that were carrying them to the edge of the pit where the pully system worked.

Berdini chuckled at the man's keen observation on his tendancy to answer questions with questions, moving to clap a hand on the other man's shoulder, amusement resting on his face. "You should be careful Mr. Lazarus, I may just find other tasks for you with that keen mind of yours." He'd simply seem to laugh about that however, trying to give the man's shoulder a light squeeze before he'd drop his hand.

"Now then we're passing here by horticulture." He'd say, using a rather unnecessary word to describe the group of those who seemed to be working on different types of trees and brush. Some were tending to the beautiful and exotic flowers that would seem to be ready to be transplanted while others were forming the bushes into beautiful green sculptures, representing different shapes of animals.

"And here we have sculpture, where you'll be working of course. I have a vision of rather unique metallic sculptures that I'll let Horace explain to you far better than I could." He'd motion with his hand to one of the stations on the other side of the pit. "Over there is painting of course, and then closer to the pit itself I have those who are in charge of getting the various designs and greenery inside and situated. Nothing you will need to concern yourself with of course. My men are quite used to such natural structures and they have taken up the lead on those tasks." From their vantage point they could see the ladders that were being used for the foreign men to clambor their way up out of the pit with and vice versa.

"Anyhow, I'm sure I ramble too long and you'll be anxious to know what you'll be doing. I'll leave you with Horace here, " He'd say motioning to the only light skinned man at the sculpting station who appeared to be working on something that looked like a metal wall, while some of the other men were creating something that looked a bit like metallic grass. "We've almost come to days end anyhow so I'm sure Horace will just get a chance to explain the duties here before the horn is sounded." He'd motion Horace over and explain to him that Lazarus would be joining his work group and to show him about their tasks and where he would be sleeping and eating. The tired man seemed in agreement, wiping his sweaty brow with a handkerchief as he nodded. The station itself was rather elaborate with a forge that had been built and many of the highest quality tools strewn about near the worktables that had been used to form the hot metals into the thin sheets of wall like material that some of the other men were working on. Raw materials were strewn about in what appeared to be a somewhat organized fashion.

"Well then, I suppose I should be taking my leave. Unless you have any other questions for me Mr. Lazarus?"
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Re: Golben

Postby Lazarus » Mon Jul 30, 2012 10:16 pm

A smile, a start, and even a few blinks in surprise at that friendly gesture for a hand on the shoulder and even a gentle squeeze. It was a common, friendly affection, and yet it left an imprint of genuine commonality and acceptance. All sorely lacking with his diagnosis all bound up in white linen that marred his left hand. In time it would marr his entirety.

Except, he thought, his soul.

And both thoughts blossomed that smile again, even a chuckle, as the Councilor offered something about a keen mind. Topiary, huge dark pits, strange foreigners and an even more exotic language. All in a land he had been told was a dismal, cold-hearted, miasmic pit of despair and coldness. So cold it had driven that knight's master to...

Well, he considered, best not to think about such things.

"Again," he offered in that ambling drawl, "My thanks for takin' me on. Glad to have some work to do, and to earn my keep. Peony and Beuford will be glad for the rest as well, I'm sure. Though if there are sparks to fly here, best to keep beuford with Peony then, wouldn't want the little guy's fur to go up in smoke."

A warm smile for Horance, a hand and nod in greeting, and keen green eyes for the work set before them. Turned out to be a good day after all.

And to think, he considered, it had begun with him being lost.
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Tue Jul 31, 2012 2:28 am

"Think nothing of it Mr. Lazarus. And do stop by my tent any time you feel you'd like to have a visit. I find myself in sorry need for company from time to time." There was that intensity in those green eyes again for a moment as he regarded the man that he had decided to hire. There was that phrase about curiousity and the cat after all. "I leave you in good hands then. Good eve gentlemen." He'd say finally with a half bow at his waist before Berdini would turn and head back towards the tent he had come from.

Horace on the other hand waited until the Councilor was well gone from earshot before he'd shake his head, tucking his handkerchief back in his pocket. "Man gives me the crawlies up my neck he does. Somethin' about that betta than you air I think." He'd reach out then, taking Lazarus's offered hand with his own dirtied one. "Well welcome to the team then eh? Not sure what I can tell ya about what we're doin' here. Don't even know myself really, but figurin' from the way Creepy Crawly there was talkin' to ya you're able to manage yerself about a bit o' metal. Boss man says we're makin' some kind o' art, somethin' about beauty and the prickly bits o' Myrken comin' together or some such nonsense. Artists. Can't trust 'em more than ya can throw 'em I say." There was another shrug from the man and he'd motion Lazarus to follow him, leading him back into the area where he had been working.

"We're makin' walls now I think, an' this stuff's supposed to be grass? Though it's a bit pointy if ya ask me. Guess that's the prickly bits o' Myrken, I dunno. Weird stuff. Anyhow, those types over there don't say a word in our tongue but they come over an show me pictures o' things and what not that need to be done an' I do 'em. Spose they'll come back with a drawin' for ya tomorrow. 'bout quittin time anyhow." And then as if to punctuate Horace's point the foreign men at their station would simply set down the things they had been working on, tucking away their materials before they started to head off in the direction of the many tents set out away from the pit.

"Come on, I'll show ya where to get yer food an' you can come bunk with me. 'bout time I got someone around here who could talk. Bloody boring sittin' around all day with those two doin' nothin' but drawin' me pictures. Wouldn' even be out here if'n it weren't for my daughter Glory. Sweet girl but sickly, has been since the little angel was born. Costly to keep up with the medicines and the doctor, an' this job pays a pretty penny. Better than the odd jobs I mighta picked up with the blacksmith in town anyhow. That bugger won't pay half o' what my work's worth. Bastards all o' 'em."

Horace would lead the way then, following the sea of other workers towards the tents. It was obvious now that fires had been started and the smell of cooking meat was starting to fill the area. In a few places there were even a few people testing a musical instrument here or there.
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Re: Golben

Postby Lazarus » Wed Aug 08, 2012 8:26 am

Lazarus took a mental step back from Horace as the man erupted into speech. It caught his own smile, allowed it to linger in kindness and understanding after a moment, after he caught up with the man's speech, after the entirety of all his new surroundings began to sink in. New land, new job, new people. Welcoming, at least. He spared a glance for his bandaged hand as they shook in greeting, soft pine eyes for this new native.

"I can see how that sort o' thing could get tiresome," he offered in reply as Horance began to show him around. "It was mighty lonely in the fenns for years 'fore I found a sul to talk to. Glad to make yer acquaintance, and to have your company. I confess this is my first time in myrken, and the land has a bit o' reputation, if you tak emy meaning."

A pause as they ambled along. "I suppose I don't need to tell you 'bout that. Apologies, friend. And yes, I know a bit of metalwork. Fashioend a cage for my pet rabbit. Who is with my horse, and I hope to lay eyes on 'em tomorrow. Two true friends, so long as there is food about, eh?" A grin for that, a slight wince as he stepped on a sharp rock, and a correction to his pace as they continued.

The man's talk of a daughter catches his eyes, heavy and somewhat darker as they etch a gentle but soft frown onto a traveling man's chapped lips.

"I'm sorry to hear 'bout your daughter, friend. Truly am. Sickly myself, but it aint catchin' and don' hurt my work none. She doin' better, with your money for medecines and all? I hope so. You're a man who loves his family, that much I can see."
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Thu Aug 09, 2012 10:06 am

Horace chuckled at Lazarus's comment about the reputation of Myrken. "Well o' course it does, but that's what's so great about livin' in these parts. Everyone's 'fraid o' ya, so it makes you seem that much tougher." He laughed at his own joke, shaking his head afterwards. "Nah, it ain' so bad really. There been some bad years aroun' here. Diseases, dead comin' back to life, dragons an' the like, but past few years 'ave been the best o' my life. Hate to say it 'cuz the man's a pompous arse, but I figure that new governor o' ours has somethin' to do with it. Things 'ave been better since he's been around an' that's enough for me. Shoulda heard what he had to say when he took the position. Too long them snappy magicky folks 'ave been havin' their way with Myrken. Governor Burnie's at least a real man. Gotta give 'im that."

"You travel with a rabbit? Now that's somethin' I don't hear every day. But maybe there ain't been enough food around in my life for that sort o' pet." He'd say, giving another laugh, clearly pleased with having someone about that he could actually talk to. It was stifling with those silent men around all the time. Lazarus confesses to illness and he'd draw the wary, empathetic gaze of his companion, Horace offering a short nod of his head. "Ah, not that much different than my Glory I 'spose. Couldn' even tell ya what all is wrong with the child, just that it ain' catchin' and the bills need paying. She's a little might o' a thing, weak, but since she's had the medicine she's been able to walk out into the yard with my wife sometimes. That's good enough for me to keep comin' to this pit every day." He was a man who loved his family, that was more than apparent. He practically glowed when he talked about them. His life was no life without his wife and daughter.

"Come on then, let's get us some food before it's all gone." He'd say, leading Lazarus into the camp that had come alive with the setting of the sun. Fires were blazing and the sounds of voices were starting to fill the air, both those speaking words in the common tongue and the sounds of that foreign language of the other members of the camp. As they approached it became rather clear that the camp was somewhat segregated, the majority of the foreigners with tents to one side of the encampment and the locals to the other, and yet around the camp fire where foreign women tended to large vats of what appeared to be stew there seemed to be common ground in sharing a meal and listening to the exotic sounds of the musical instruments that some of the foreign men played about the fire side, singing songs that had no cadence in common with the songs from the locals.

The presence of the women seemed to be unique as well as during the working hours only men seemed to have been tending to the projects around the pit, whereas now there were at least a dozen of the foreign women. Some of the women dressed simply, in linen clothing that they wore draped and tucked about their bodies to form simple dresses, whereas other women were dressed in fine clothing made with embroidered silks like Lazarus had seen inside Berdini's tents. Many of these women also sported exotic piercings, some with gold hoops in their noses, others with many gold earrings along their ears. The finely dressed women seemed to be relieved of drab duties such as tending to fires or cooking meals, instead they worked their way around the camp, some women obviously flirting with some of the foreign men while others engaged in forms of entertainment, some playing musical instruments for other women while they danced to the tune of the strange sounding music, in one corner it seemed that there was even a woman who appeared as if she might be telling fortunes or reading palms.
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Re: Golben

Postby Lazarus » Tue Aug 14, 2012 10:55 am

"This Gov'nor of yours seems to be the drivin' force behind an awful lot," came the thoguhtful reply, brow furrowed in naked display of contemplation, eyes darting about as if to pin his ideas on the very gentle winds that occasionally moved about them. "Must be a man of ambition, to say the least. Councilor Bernidinni was all but singin' the man's praises. Not often you meet people that actually like their leaders, I should think. Sad, really."

Lazarus took it all in, the sights, the voice of Horace, the sounds of foreign chatter interspersed with locals' rolling conversation and the soft delights of music. Distinct wonder at the movement of a work camp after work, stamped on his sun-weathered features for all the world to see, as he struggled to keep up with Horace's excited pace.

"It is a sight," Lazarus drawled as each motion of another stranger drew his attention and threatened to call him into some spell of community, common goal, and simple shared humanity. There were few things as simple, or as worthwhile, as an evening of relaxing after a good night's work. The food in particular threatened to consume him as his jade-hewn eyes constantly sought out the contents of each plate they happened to pass.

"There is somethin' 'bout family though," a repose for the information concerning Horace's daughter. "That gets you, right in your bones I think, spurs you on, makes you dare things, endure things," Lazarus paused with a sheepish smile. "Well, I don't need to tell you that, do I?"

A smile with memories tugging upon it, of friends and an adopted family. A long look for the locals as they have approached, the easily familiarity, the friendly roughness of tired laborers sharing in a joint project and pain.

"How long has all this been goin' on?" he asked as they maneuvered through the dense press of humanity. "The Councilor said somethin' about the work bein' a few months shy of bein' done, I think?" He paused then, mild embarrassment at his being near overwhelmed coloring his visage before he stopped and turned to Horace.

"There's just so much," he drawled heavily over the last word, grinning at and despite himself as he shook his head. "Aint seen such a thing in, oh, a good long time." memories of home when it was still such, of working men, and of family, colored his view for several moments with the whispers of his few friends in the fens. And a silent prayer for their departed souls.

"Beauford would love this," he continued. "Never had a friend who loved his food as much. 'Course, bein' a rabbit, makes that rather straightforward, doesn't it? I'll have to bring him back something decidedly vegetarian for his sens'tive appetite. A rabbit friend is a friend for food," a grin for his newfound friend. "And after he's a friend for food, then he's a friend for good."

The fortune teller earned a few moments' study. "You go in for that sort of thing, if you don't mind the askin'?"
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Wed Aug 15, 2012 9:33 am

"Aww come now, never said I -liked- the man." Horace said with a chuckle after Lazarus commented on people liking their leaders. "Just said that things 'ave been better since he came about is all. Gotta give that respect."

Horace weaved Lazarus in and among the crowd, his stocky stature giving him a little bit of weight to clear a pass and it was evident that he was well liked amongst the locals, accepting a shoulder clap here, a smile and a hearty laugh there as people tried to catch his attention as he was making his way by. Lazarus would even be hurriedly introduced to a few faces and then hurried off again, Horace's mission clearly being to bring the pair of them closer to where those pots of stew were being served.

"A sight's one thing ya can say about the place I 'spose. Folks get tired o' workin' all day keepin' to themselves. Seems to be that most folks are a mix o' workin', foreigners and us. Figure that means that nobody gets to do much talkin' all day long and ya gotta unwind sometimes. Mostly everythin' dies down after they bust out the ale. Folks get right tired after that, though I ain't a drinkin' man myself. Lear'nd when I was younger the devil's in the bottom o' the bottle."

They had finally reached the place where food was being served and Horace would pass the first bowl back to Lazarus. It was a different sort of meal than that which would have been served in a tavern as there was some sort of cooked grain at the bottom of the bowl, and ladeled overtop was a concoction of meat and vegetables in a smooth reddish brown colored gravy that smelled delicious and hinted at exotic spices that would slightly pepper the tongue. Horace seemed to be familiar with the dish as he took up his spoon and immediately shoveled in a bite where he was standing before sighing in satisfaction and waving Lazarus to come follow him towards the perimeter of the little crowd. When he finally had his food swallowed Horace would continue answering the other questions. "' 'spose I've been out here a couple months.. maybe three at the most. It was a might bit before the summer started." And then there was a glance towards the fortune teller and a slight furrow of Horace's brow. "Not much for wantin' to know my fate before it happens. Not even sure how she does it really, seen a few o' our folks go over there to have it done but don't know how she'd say anythin' to them about it. I don't think there is such a good thing as a good fortune in Myrken anyhow. There's just the good times an' the bad times and I'd rather not know which is which till it's a happenin'"
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Re: Golben

Postby Lazarus » Wed Aug 22, 2012 12:40 am

A lingered glance for that fortune teller as Horance speaks, the smile eased upon his simple features withering at such things as witchcraft. Friendly faces and offered hands earn the same in return, jade eyes wide with the barrage of newness and the spice of excitement in their air from food, dance and music. Until the pair have been seated, food in his hands yet untouched and ignored for the panorama of activity about them.

"Myrken's a scary place if you come from outside it," Lazarus drawled then as he began to pick over his food and caught its distinct pepper scent. "So I always heard. Foul things runnin' amuck, magic and sorcery and whatnot. Though I suppose Thessilane in't much better, what with that Duke runnin' round. Happened upon some deserters o' his in the fens, weren't much pleasant folk either."

But on to happier things.

Spoken around a mouthful of food, so that his eyes are seen to narrow in study of the taste, widen at the rich savory flavr, and then water mildly with the biting spice, he continued.

"Is there time to take off durin' the week at all, say a day at the end of the week, or is this an ongoin' thing that's done whot when its done?" Lazarus chewed the food over with building delight. "Not that I'm tryin' to bug out already, mind you. Jus' curious 'bout some things and, this bein' Myrken and me actually bein' here, got a hankerin' for some explorin' if you take my meaning."

On a similiar note: "Horace, how often do you get to see your daughter?"
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Wed Aug 22, 2012 10:01 am

For a moment the fortune teller's eyes met with Lazarus's gaze, held there for a moment. She was a striking woman, her skin the rich almost the deep ebony color of a drow, though her features were distinctly human. She had adorned herself with a number of bits of jewelry, loops of gold pinned through eyebrows, her nose and her ears. The hands that turned the cards on her table were similarly decorated, dozens of bracelets jangling on her wrists and rings of different sizes and settings glittered upon her fingers. It was her eyes that were perhaps her most distinct feature however, her gaze deep and soulful, as if she truly did know something that the others didn't. Or perhaps she had simply seen more in her life than her apparent youth could have possibly allowed for. The moment passed and her eyes returned to her next patron, not to look towards the two men again.

It was Horace's voice that broke in next between bites of shoveled food, the man barely even bothering to taste the food that he was eating, apparently grateful that he had something at all. "Way I see it ain't there no place to live that's any better than the others. Not to be puttin' ya off o' all the travelin' ya been doin'. Think there's somethin' to seein' the world." The man would look back at his companion, chuckling a little at the watery eyed look that Lazarus had gotten. "Ya get used to it. If yer a drinkin' man I'd try the ale, 'sposed to help the spice."

Horace would continue to eat and nodded his head a little at the question about taking time off. "All o' us get two days off at week's end. Whole place clears out, Myrkeners and Foreigns alike. Well mostly anyhow. Councilor keeps up out here and sometimes a couple o' his men. Few guys on one o' the crews asked if they could stay out here in their tents one time an' he told 'em no. Didn' hear the whole bit about why exactly. Just another one o' the weird things around here if ya ask me. Not that I'm questionin' a damned thing mind ya. I got a job to do an' I'm gonna do it." Horace would pause then, almost as if there was something else he was going to say, and then Lazarus asks his last question and that seems to keep his comment back.

"I see little Glory two days outta each week. My place ain' far off, but it takes a good half a day to get out there an' back. Easier to just stay put until my time off from here." And Horace would look up then, seeing some kegs of ale being rolled into the general gathering area. Apparently it had become that time of night.

"What about you? What sort o' explorin' ya hopin' to do?"
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Re: Golben

Postby Lazarus » Thu Aug 23, 2012 2:53 am

"One thing I did learn out in the fens, was how to cook," Lazarus offered around a mouthful of his own food. A smile at Horace's suggestion of ale blossomed upon sun hardened features with a gentle shake fo the head as he choked down the tingling but not unwanted spice. "Ser, ye'll be sendin' me after that devil in the bottom, huh? Have me stumblin' into the fires, and over to the gypsy-teller," each direction enunciated with a jabbing of his food-laden fork.

Unfortunate bits fell to the ground, lingered over by that hungry gaze, tempted to eat them anyway. best, he considered, to let the stuff be. It wasn't for men to eat dust. Not unless, he recalled, they were starving. Thank God it had been a while since those times.

"Thanks, I'll say, but no thanks," he resumed with warm eyes for their company. "Fire in the throat welcomes devils anyway, hell supposed to be burnin' hot and whatnot. True though, 'bout livin' anywhere has its perils. The Grange, the fens sure, and even myrken. Folk do what they have to, and folk get sued to darn near anythin'. Amazin', really, how people have that real will to life, you know what I mean?"

Not entirely amazing, Lazarus considered, yet still unquenchable and undeniable. The fens had proven that on every exile who dwelled in the stinking reaches.

"I'm glad, friend, you get time with yer fam'ly. Still, it is right strange, no one bein' able to talk with each other, no one bein' able to stick 'round the dig site. It's a right surprise, I tell you what, but the lengths, well," he trailed off as he savored a particularly luscious bite of meat and smiled with closed eyes to blot out all else except that flavor.

"It is good," he murmured with shut eyes, in a sweet land of grilled steaks and roasted potatos all in his mind. 'grows on ya. I was thinkin', what with your Grace bein' how she is, and me fixin' for some travellin', if'n she wouldn't like a pet rabbit? I'm thinking the travelling might not be so good for poor Beuford's constitution."

Long looks for that ale as it entered, remembering Horace's words that it spelled a certain time and hour for fatigued, hard working and hungry men. A sideward glance for the lady of fortune's knowing that lingered, wondering if she knew, what she knew, and she saw in those exotic eyes of hers.

"Fixin' to find the knighthood I heard was 'round these parts. Not sure if it still stands, tell the truth, but I made a friend a promise to find the place. Thought I'd learn more 'bout it myself at that. Was told it was near a priory, but not the one in the mountains," he affirmed, remembering the look the knight had given him of hard metal and dire warning. "he said never go near the one in the mountains, was the home of some fiend or whatnot. Sad, tell the truth, figure with fiends and the like abroad people'll need to be prayin to God and such."

A quick swallow.

"Not that they can't do that at home. Lord knows I have, but sometimes it does the spirit good to go somewhere else for that sort o' thing."
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Thu Aug 23, 2012 10:26 am

Horace chuckled at Lazarus's comment about sending him to the bottom of the bottle. "Well I ain' ever claimed to be the sort o' man to keep another from the devil if he's seekin' it. Just don' mean I have to follow 'im down." He chuckled again, giving his bowl another stir before he'd put another shovel full in his mouth, chewing on it thoughtfully as Lazarus went on to expand about peril's.

"That I do know. Folks don' live long unless they want to. That's the truth right there." There was more thoughtful chewing, as Horace's eyes shifted to look over the crowd. Ale was being poured now, but almost as quickly as it was being drunk men were stumbling back to their tents. There was something wholely unnatural about it, for none of the men could possibly have drank enough to render them intoxicated and yet there they were, seeming as if they couldn't stay upon their own two feet. Still there was laughter and good natured assisting among friends, but there was something rather strange about how it all came about. Horace frowned as he looked back into the food he was eating, the music of the gathering still lingering there around them, though one could wonder at how very short the evening meal and festivities truly was. For a moment, if one was watching, they would notice the fortune teller look their way again, only to look back and start packing up her things.

"Yeah.. strange." Horace would agree quietly, stirring his food about again, though this time he didn't shovel in another bite. "' 'spose it's just best not to go askin' questions anyhow." And thank goodness that the topic changed then because Horace seemed to come around back to himself at the mention of his daughter.

"Aww, Glory'd love that. She's got a kind heart for the little creatures. She'd take good care o' him I promise ya that." The man seemed to brighten just at the idea of it, at least until Lazarus mentioned the prior. "It's a good friend ya got there. Nothin' good ever came out o' that priory. Nothin' good. If'n yer a God fearin' man however there a few o' us that still get together an' say prayers. Nothin' fancy, I 'spose that priory in the mountains is what scared folks off o' those kinda places, but we still say a few words to the Good Lord now an' then. My Glory's livin' an' that's reason enough to keep prayin'."
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Re: Golben

Postby Dulcie » Mon Nov 12, 2012 2:05 pm

Many days had passed since the day that Horace had met Lazarus. The fall had come and gone, and the beginning of winter was starting to blow on the encampment that worked at Golben. There were barely even two weeks left that they would have to finish their work before the cold weather would halt their productions, and yet Horace found himself awake and uneasy tonight. He knew that he should ignore the things that he had seen, and the strange curiosities that he felt, but he had tried so hard to surprise them. Really he had tried.

The evening celebrations had come and gone, the others had gone into their tents hours ago, and yet Horace was just coming out of his, looking at the pit that remained not all that far away from them, a looming hole in the darkness. Even from here he could tell that the pit was becoming something, though just what that something was seemed to be an entirely different question. Over the past few weeks he had noticed that his assignments, though they were presumably for some great work of art were becoming more and more disturbing. He had seen things that looked like the walls of cages, and doors that seemed to have no feasible way of opening. What was more disturbing was that when he asked his friends about the jobs they were working on their answers were becoming more and more vague, sometimes admitting that they had completely forgotten, though when Horace would look out over the pit the next day they would be set dutifully to work.

He didn’t know why he was drawn to the pit tonight. Perhaps just because it was a quiet place where he could think and contemplate the tiny pieces of things that he was learning. Or perhaps it was because from that vantage point he might be able to learn more, though what he’d do with that knowledge was something that even Horace didn’t know. He had good reason to keep his head down, to do his work and get home to his precious little girl.

As Horace approached the pit he noticed that he wasn’t alone. There standing on the edge of the gaping crater was one of the foreign women, her embroidered red silk skirt fluttering around her legs in the cool breeze. For a moment he thought she was about to jump into the pit itself, his heart beginning to race with the fear of it when she began to shift in her position, though he felt relief when she simply seemed to sink down to her knees, pressing her forehead to the cool earth.

At first Horace felt a little guilty about watching the woman in her prostrate position, thinking perhaps he was interrupting a prayer, and began to turn away, stopping only when he heard the sound of sobbing behind him. He turned back then, making his way towards the woman. Horace always did have a very tender heart.

He knelt down beside the woman and lightly touched a hand to her shoulder, an action that he immediately regretted as the woman recoiled away from him, looking up at him with watery deep brown eyes and tears that stained her dark skin. Horace offered her a soft smile of reassurance and handed her his handkerchief. Some gestures transcend language after all. The woman took the handkerchief and dabbed lightly at her cheeks, her sobbing beginning to lessen.

“There now love, it ain’ so bad see. What’s a lady like ya doin’ out here all alone at night anyhow. Cryin’ over a pit.” He paused then and looked at her, offering a look of sympathy. “You probably can’t understand a word I’m sayin’ anyhow.” Though something in her eyes when he said that seemed to indicate some sort of awareness, not the blank confusion he saw on some of the other foreigner’s faces when he asked them something. “ ‘Spose ya might be out here doin’ what I’m doin’. Thinkin’ maybe there’s somethin’ here that just ain’ right and wishin’ ya could do somethin’ about it, but not even knowin’ what’s wrong in the first place.” And then he saw it, the tiniest of movements from the woman, but there it was all the same, a tiny little nod of her head.

“Ya understand me?” He asked in surprise, seeing another little nod from the woman, though this time she looked about over her shoulders, her expression nervous and anxious. “I didn’ think none o’ yer people knew our language, and sure enough ain’ one o’ us that knows yers. Well come on then love, tell me what’s troublin’ ya.” He was ready then, for the woes of a woman. Perhaps she had been mistreated by one of the men, or was tired and worried about a family in a foreign land, though nothing could have prepared Horace for what he saw next. At his urging to speak her face would crumple again, her eyes beginning to water and she’d look back at Horace and stretch her mouth open wide in an action that was so confusing to Horace until he saw what she was showing him, and had to use all his willpower to stop from looking and sounding horrified.
There in the woman’s mouth was a horrible stump of a tongue, it’s end blackened and scarred from a wound that was old though none the less disturbing. It’s jagged edges made it clear that this was some form of torture or punishment, something that had been done to this woman rather than some strange deformation that had occurred before birth. Someone had cut out her tongue.

Horace felt a chill in the air and the tears began to streak the woman’s cheeks again as she closed her mouth, stretching forward once more, a fingertip beginning to etch into the dirt, writing out something that clearly was meant to be a message for Horace. When she was finished she’d shove the handkerchief back into Horace’s hands and give him a look that he could only feel was something like pity before she rose to her feet and ran back for the women’s tents, leaving him alone with the etched symbols in the dirt.

Horace could have puzzled over the symbols for days and never determined what they meant. He recognized a few letters as they were shared with his name, but he could never figure out the rest. A message written in the dirt for an illiterate man. Still Horace couldn’t help but feel that perhaps this was a message that shouldn’t be left behind for someone else to find. He reached out with no further hesitation and swiped his hand over the letters she had formed in the dirt, erasing them with his hand before he stood up and began his trek to his tent, leaving behind him only a small bit of disturbed dirt where the words “Be Careful” had once been.
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Golben

Postby Dulcie » Tue Jun 25, 2013 1:02 pm

The cold winter months had passed and Golben had sat silently, the snow falling into the giant gaping hole in the earth. There were no tents in the winter time, no bustle of activity or voices, only the occassional dance of a solitary lantern along the edge of it now and then.

Winter had come and gone however, and the spring had brought renewed effort among the workers, both Myrken-born and foreigner alike. Horace had seen the change in the projects. The metal work had been finished and lowered into the pit. So had mirrors and now they were carefully lowering baskets of different sorts of plant varieties, all with the cautions that they should keep their mouths and noses covered as they worked.

From above the result was something beautiful. Mazes of rosebushes and hedges bloomed, metal sculptures arched towards the skies and panels of mirrors reflected the bright light of the sun. But sometimes at night Horace could swear that he could hear the growl of a tiger, and the sounds of other beasts down below.

The other workers drank and ate and laughed in the evening, but not Horace. A blind eye turned away far too many times, for although he saw beauty from above he could only sense something horrible in his heart. It wouldn't matter any longer though. It was the last night of the project. This last evening and he'd be home with his wife and his daughter, with enough money in his pockets to afford his little one's medicines for years to come.

He stood at the edge of the pit, looking over the work that gave him chills up and down his spine. The others had gone to bed, drank away their worries and forgotten about the work they had done. Forgotten about each noxious plant, and the sharpness of every metal sculpture. A hand closed on Horace's shoulder and he'd turn with a start, looking into the green eyes of Stefan Berdini.

"It is a shame that you never took to the bottle my good man. Such a great shame. My best wishes for where you'll be going." The Councilman told him, a smile resting on his lips even as he began to shove the other man over the edge.

Horace grappled and scuffled with Berdini, but he was off balance and caught unawares, and at the end of the struggle the man went tumbling over the edge, a ripped swatch of Berdini's shirt sleeve in his hand. There was no one else left awake to hear Horace scream, no one to bid him rescue should he even survive the fall.

There was the sickening sound of bones crunching as the body hit the bottom, and then the growl of the tiger.

The project was complete. There could be no witnesses.
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