A Letter to the Governor

A Letter to the Governor

Postby Katie » Fri Apr 19, 2013 1:48 am

A letter, just like any other letter, delivered with the rest. The handwriting is not pretty, though legible enough without engendering a headache that only a sweet bed or sweeter woman could resolve. It's tucked away in a plain envelop, written on plain, if a bit wrinkled, paper.

To the Gofenor Govenor of Myrkentown, Glenn Burnyie,

First, I will introduce myself. My name is Tomias Eddington, a former soldier of DaDerry. I have come to Myrkenwood for its change of pace, its fresh air and its oppurtuneities. It is my understanding that you are seeking a few extra Constubles. I would love to discuss with you in person, when you have the time.

I have rented a room at the Broken Dagger and am easy enoufgh to reach. I hope to hear from you soon.

- Tomias Eddington
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Glenn » Fri Apr 19, 2013 1:03 pm

Glenn Burnie had a sweet bed and an even sweeter woman. It was almost unfortunate he wouldn't need either here. He read without incident.

It was a lovely combination really. A man who was both smart enough to mostly be able to read and right but that was foolhardy enough to take up the most dangerous job in Myrken Wood. Who was the Governor to turn down such an offer? Oh, it pained his heart just a tiny bit, that Derry's misfortune had been their gain, but hadn't Myrken's misfortune been preyed upon by so many for so long? It was only fair, and what was Burnie if not fair? Well, alright, he was many things, but in this case, fair was plenty fair. In fact, for someone who was willing to sacrifice himself for the good of Myrken (albeit for a fair wage), he would be glad to be downright generous.

He began first to sketch, and then, upon completion, he would write.

Tomias,

In these trying times for your homeland, Myrken Wood will always welcome those who have skill and courage enough to stand up against the night. Clean air we may have but those who breathe it do not always have the good of the community in mind. Those who breathe it are not always sane and peaceful. Normally, the hiring process for the Constabulary does not come through my office so directly, but since you have taken the time to write me, I would be glad to meet with you and smooth the road however I can. Come to the Meetinghouse and ask for me tomorrow morning. I will alert the necessary people there to expect you. I am attaching a quickly sketched map of town for your convenience.

Governor Burnie
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Katie » Fri Apr 19, 2013 2:44 pm

Tomias had just gulped down a whiskey swill when the letter arrived. He sat near the fireplace in the tavern; while it began to warm enough to not need it, it was still comfortable enough to want it. Without work, there were few other things to do than drink and Myrkeners seemed accepting of his Derrian money.

It was a bar wench that delivered it. "You, sir," she said, "Tomias Eddington?"

"Three drinks and still struggling with my name, darling?" he asked, though he smiled to at least smooth the insult into a playful jest. Taking the letter, he read it. "Wait a moment," he said to the barmaid. He pointed at a word. "Can you read that?"

"No," she replied and turned away from him.

He shrugged at his accidental bashing of her intelligence. "Constu-constu--constabulory." His eyes raised from the letter. "What in the hell does that mean."

The bartender, cleaning steins, barked from across the room. "It means the constable job you're trying to get."

"So it does," Tomias replied.

His night ended with the sunrise of a hangover. It wasn't his best plan, but he responded better when he hadn't the opportunity to think too much and the slow drum of firewater's punishment would force him to speak slowly and carefully. A few slurred words to a superior, and the beating that ensued, was enough to teach that, even to an intoxicated Tomias.

As instructed, he came to the meetinghouse the following morning, the pain in his head a few shades shy of thrashing, but at least he had dressed as best as he could. The man was probably handsome when he was younger; now, it was hidden by the wrinkled corners of his eyes, and beneath the river-running scar along his chin that separated his face from his throat. His eyes, though, were a deep, green flecked with a touch of gold that a few of his lovers had noticed. Once inside, he removed his wide-brimmed hat, to show his crushed, dirty blonde curls that were wanting for scissors and a wash. He wore his Derrian armor, as if the leather pieces had been grafted to his skin. It was comprised mostly of a heavy, inflexible chest piece with a Derrian crest branded to the upper right portion of the chest. A sword dangled from his hip, properly sheathed, but always there. He didn't wear protection on his legs, which he was already forgetting; instead he wore gray trousers with seams that gripped for what little life the thread had left.

He smiled to those who greeted him. "Tomias Eddington. I'm here to see Governor Burnie."
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Glenn » Mon Apr 22, 2013 7:59 am

Much as the Governor promised, Tomias was expected. That was the way it so often went. Oh yes, the man was looking for employment, a livelihood, but these were things Glenn Burnie encouraged. He wanted to bring hard working people to Myrken Wood. He wanted to bring those with skills and experience. In the minor flood of refugees, these were the men and women that stood out, that were useful to the community, that had something to offer. It was only right that they would be paid their fair wage in return.

It was with cordial smiles and a modicum of patience that Tomias was met by the reception staff, and after a delay that was not overly onerous he would be led in. The governor's office was the chaos in the heart of Myrken's burgeoning order. Papers were strewn everywhere, but never carelessly. A hundred piles some overlapping each other, but still, piles they were. The Governor was at the height of his power, young, well-dressed, with hands that seemed to dodge every drop of ink, clear and clean, even if somewhat hardened.

"Mr. Eddington, then." He spoke before looking, finishing his sentence, shifting a paper, reading another. "Sit or stand, it's your choice." The comfy chair had not been brought out. There was some regard for this man, but there were perfectly reasonable limits as well. Finally, he'd glance up, appraising. It was a mishmash of armor, but that was still far more than most Myrkenites had. The sword deserved and received extra attention, two seconds' perhaps. The scar was good too, both useful and telling. "Welcome to Myrken Wood." He did not rise, but he would extend his hand.
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Katie » Wed Apr 24, 2013 8:22 am

It was then that Tomias realized that Governor Burnie was a practiced man. He was used to his office and his paper, things that Tomias had not had the luxury to become accustomed. The sword on his belt was military issued, kept in the scabbord that was offered with it. The sword, his armor, these were the things he had become accustomed; they were his office and paper. When the governor reached over for his hand, Tomias' tanned one met it; it was thick, with rough, well-used skin, but it was a firm, professional shake nonetheless.

He even smiled. He had the face that wanted to smile easily, but Derry had never been a place that allowed much of that. Despite the atrocities that now left Derry in droves, Tomias managed to seem like a pleasant man. Perhaps this is why he chose to drink so much, he considered, to keep a cherub demeanor.

"Thank you," he said to the welcome. It wasn't something that settled in his stomach well. Upon reaching Myrkenwood, he was greeted by a circus of individuals: a portly, unwashed woman with too much to say; a madman; a beast woman with horns and fangs; a man made of tentacles and squid-skin; and the icing on the cake had been the fattest man he had ever witnessed in his life. They had been his welcome. And almost all of them were met with an unkind word from him, and he believed every syllable necessary.

"Everyone here has been really kind," he lied without pause. He didn't take the chair. "Would you mind if I stood? It feels better on my legs." It was true; chairs relaxed him, and that dropped his guard. "I appreciate you taking a moment to talk to me about the const-const-excuse me. The constable position. You said in your letter that this isn't a duty you assign?"

And thus began the negotiations. Tomias was better with steel.
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Glenn » Fri Apr 26, 2013 2:02 pm

Steady, poised. It had taken some time for the Governor to give this newcomer his attention but now it was given and once given, it had to be accepted in full. Cool eyes held the man's frame, every tick, every mannerism, every movement, every single breath. And once again, Burnie smiled. "Stand. The chair's not very comfortable anyway," he admitted honestly enough. "It keeps the movement of the day brisk, I've found."

Kind, he said. Really kind. Myrken. To a refugee. With a sword. Of course. "It's our way, Mr. Eddington. Brusque. Rough. Rude. Believe it or not, we weren't raised poorly, those of us who were raised at all, you understand. It is necessity. Day in and day out. Necessity." The smile was steady, constant but warm, hardly unnerving like it may have been a few years ago. "We've tried the alternative. It doesn't end well.

"I tell you this, Tomias," an end to formality, because as he said, briskness was a necessity, "not to unnerve you or run you from my walls. I tell you this so that you know what you are getting into. No, I do not hire Constables. Delegation is, unfortunately, my lifeblood. That said, if I say you're a Constable, barring any glaring blemish upon your character, you'll be a Constable. There's a cost to that, like anything else. No, best go through the proper channels. You can read. You have need for employment. You have need for a home. You can use a sword. You have the will. I'd be remiss in my duties not to write you a letter of introduction, not to send you along to the Constabulary. You are a tick in a column, a resource, a tool, a brave soul, a stout man of skill, talent and experience. All this and more or less."

Here he raised a hand. There were so many words here, an unfortunate symptom one was afflicted by when speaking with the Governor, to be awash in them. The hand was to halt any attempt to speak back until he was done, which was to be shortly enough. "I tell you the nature of our land to be fair to you, Tomias Eddington, because I promise, if you accept this post, if you put your body and blade between Myrken's people and it dangers, it will be the last fair thing you encounter. If you still wish to more forward with this, I will, of course, be glad and suitably grateful to speed you on your way." The hand sunk to the table and slowly reached for his writing implement.
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Katie » Mon Apr 29, 2013 1:52 pm

The governor's warning had not been the first he heard. In fact, it began before meeting many of the residents of Myrkenwood; it began the minute he left the Derrian borders. Myrkentown was not a town known for its riches, whether that of coin or of character. The people were strange, to say the least, unruly, some downright cruel and bordering evil. His face would be a new canvas for scars, his bones an open invitation for breaking, and these were the only ideas he casually considered; the truth that reality would bring would likely be much worse.

All of this, he had considered the minute the rumor of the need for Myrkentown constables wafted into his ears. The governor had not asked him something specific, something Mes Gloria had: why was he a former soldier of Derry? In fact, what kind of soldier had he been? City guard? First division? Was he one of those who took the witches and necromancers and strung them up for their murder-on-display? Or was he one of the troops who stood against the Thessils during their persistent attacks that destroyed his home? The home that, in itself, ate the life of his mother when she gave birth to the still life corpse that was his sister; the home that gifted consumption and a hearty grave to his father; and then blessed the cruel, unrelenting war times that devoured the soul of his elder brother.

In the end, Tomias had assumed the risks. Derry destroyed his life, and if taking a risky job, one where he was already skilled to take, could produce him a home, a wife, a life, then he was forced to take it, no matter how strange and unnatural its residents.

"I appreciate your warning," he said finally to the governor after the thoughtful moment. He even smiled, warping the cracked scar along his cheek, "and I think you know I'm not a fool. I would not be interested in a job if I wasn't able to do it or worse, if I was afraid of it. I think you understand where I come from, that my homeland of Derry has not known peace longer than a few sunrises. Your town needs a competent constable and you have one sitting in front of you. I will take the risks necessary, because I need the work as much as your town needs the man to perform it."

He eyed the paper and smiled again. "I am for the challenges of your citizens, Governor Burnie."
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Glenn » Tue Apr 30, 2013 8:21 am

Oh, Myrkentown was a city on the go: years of stable government between Calomel and himself, a lack of a great many giant monsters recently (save for Catch and that dragon and the Eight, of course; still, a relatively good ratio for Myrken), the ability to profiteer on the war between Thessilane and Derry (and a governor willing to do just that). Things were on the rise. Why it was possible that someone, somewhere in Razasan didn't outright cry at the thought of having to go there, which was really unprecedented in the last few decades, certainly. It was a lovely place, Glenn Burnie's Myrken. Just not to visit or to live, of course.

But no, there was no question about one's past here. One went to Myrken to avoid such things and when one was putting his life upon the line, there was no need to deal with such pesky details. The Constables tended to police their own and if he was a horrible scoundrel or murderer, they'd soon have the truth of it and by sheer positioning alone, by simply giving him the wrong assignment at the wrong time, the province itself would take care of him.

So no, Glenn did not ask. If he was a man who wanted but to make a new life for himself, that was the greatest gift Myrken Wood could give. All the Governor asked in return was that he gave Myrken everything he could. Beautiful reciprocity. "I understand. It's very hard to strike back against war. It's very hard to strike back against either Chewdry or Burel. They are abstracts in the ways that matter. Crime is as well, of course, but criminals are not. You'll have your opportunities here."
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Re: A Letter to the Governor

Postby Katie » Thu May 02, 2013 2:26 pm

Though clearly enough mastery of Standard, Tomias did not readily speak the same tongue as the governor. In fact, while Mr. Burnie could certainly read between the lines that Tomias spoke, the same skill did not come as readily to the soldier. Tomias saw it as a successful deceit on his part; no questions asked and he would not be forced to lie. He did not question what gravity this would mean, that he could be thrown to the wolves at any one time. In the end, he knew nothing of what he was up against.

In the end, he was only looking to swing his sword at something else than the neck of a Thessil.

"Then I'll take them," he said in regard to opportunities. "Unless, of course, you need something else from me." Overall, he would be surprised if that was all their was to it; then again, he knew this sort of work was not a competitive position. He stood straight, his proud, leather, tri-corner hat common to Derrians (but perhaps not to Myrkeners) on his head. Thick hands, gathered together and wanting of either a horse's reigns or a sword's hilt, were almost twitchy. He was standing still for too long, something that caused him to shift left to right. His eyes, a calming, grassy green, cast to the side a moment. A constant watch at his peripherals, the glances never last long, but it seemed uncommon that he let his eyes, or the rest of him, remain at peacefor long.

He was ready. He began to wonder what the first day of this duty would be like.
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