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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Aug 23, 2018 11:36:44 GMT -8
Castle CremeAtop a grassy hill and surrounded by a deep moat sits Castle Creme, a luxurious castle owned by the wealthy and mysterious Creme family. Nobody knows too much about them, except that they're rarely seen outside of the castle and do their best to avoid outsiders. Most of the locals steer clear of the castle, unless they have deliveries. The carts are unhitched from the horses and left outside the castle gates overnight, and the drivers leave. When they return in the morning, the carts are empty, and a generous bag of gold is left on the cart as payment. Occasionally, the bodies of opportunistic thieves lie beside the cart, shot full of arrows.
As of late, a simple wooden sign has been placed on the bridge across the moat. It reads: "Help Wanted".
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Aug 23, 2018 11:51:05 GMT -8
A stranger to these lands he had not the same regard for the castle in the terms of the populous. Frankly he was only upon the hill due to the rather interesting tales that the bar maid had told him the night before. She spoke of the castle as if it were a marvel and the family as mysterious and secretive. He didn't ken to such secrets nor did it bother him that a man wanted to keep them to himself. He'd simply wanted to see it for himself and now that he had he was ready to shoulder his pack and move down the road. That was until he saw the sign.
Fairly familiar with the common tongue when spoken the writing might take him a moment. Like a child attempting to sound out a page he would scrunch up his features and sound out the syllables one by one. "Help Wanted," he finally got out like it was an accomplishment. Reading was not something the common folk really needed and he did much of his storytelling with his axe instead of pen and paper.
Scratching the stubble on his chin he considered his options. Money on the road was hard to come by with doing menial tasks and to get passage home he was going to have to come up with quite a few coins. "Well," he spoke out loud to the sign patting the top of it as he passed it, "Looks like you've found it."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Aug 23, 2018 12:03:50 GMT -8
Unfortunately for Rutgard, the sign's only response was a soft rattle as the man's heavy hand jarred it. As he walked up the hill, he'd likely notice the stares of several townsfolk from down below as they watched the hulking stranger make his way up towards the castle. What sort of man was he, going up to see the Creme family? Fearful of both the castle and newcomers, they didn't dare shout out to him as he approached the gates. Still, their fear didn't stop them from whispering and murmuring to each other. Surely he would stop before reaching it, and would turn back! Didn't he know about the castle, and what was in it? This last note prompted a bit of discussion among the townsfolk, as they suddenly realized that they didn't know what was in the castle...but if everyone was so afraid of it, it must be bad.
As Rutgard knocked on the gate, a small metal shutter slid open. A pair of bright blue eyes peered out at him, squinting slightly at his appearance. The man spoke, his voice carrying the crisp refinement of an educated background.
"Can I help you? We're not accepting visitors right now, or ever...unless you're here about the job, of course."
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Aug 23, 2018 12:15:01 GMT -8
Education wasn't important to Rutgard unless it taught him how to survive. He looked the type that knew how to do that at least. It was colder in the open lands and so he had a cloak made of fur, lovingly sewn together from different furs they were all of arctic creatures. Therefore he stood in white and grey in stark contrast of his dark hair the long locks left free to frame his face and keep the cold from his ears. A few braids here and there throughout they were slim and tied off with thin pieces of blue linen dyed to a deep navy.
He met the blue eyes with his own releasing a grin that spread across his face. No amount of muttering on the way up here had distracted him from his task nor was he put off by the odd greeting. "Yeah," he said his eyes lazily looking at the surrounding of the door,"I'm here about the job."
He lowered the hand he had knocked with his brown leather tunic and dark pants visible through the opening. He carried his axe on his back where it was not but a coin pouch and the side of his satchel that was falling to his side was. He'd been on the road for months and his boots and clothes carried the wear but he looked bright enough as if the morning air had refreshed him.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Aug 23, 2018 12:42:07 GMT -8
The shutter slammed shut with a clang. A moment later, the gates let out a groaning creak as they opened, revealing a man and a woman both in their early twenties. They both shared very similar features, with the same golden hair and the same somewhat pointed nose. The man gave Rutgard a rather forced smile, and the woman murmured something that the Taingaardian couldn't quite hear. A wrinkled old guard shut the gate behind him with some difficulty, placing a heavy bar over it to keep it shut. The man spoke again, addressing Rutgard directly.
"Welcome, newcomer. I'm Lait Creme, and this is my sister Succette. I'm afraid that the lord of the castle, our father, is ill and unfortunately not available to meet with you right now. Neither is our mother, although I'm sure she'll join us for dinner. If you're here for the job, well...we need some extra security around here. Old Mr. Rollins is excellent, but we could use some younger muscle around here. Er...if you'd like, we can put you on retainer for 3 golden pieces a day."
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Aug 23, 2018 12:51:16 GMT -8
Extra security sounded right up his alley especially when they offered a retainer but their lack of consideration into making sure he was suitable for the task surprised him. Still they seemed eager enough to have someone to help even if they were hiding something behind forced smiles. "I'm afraid I'm bound for home here shortly," he admitted, "Though I am up for the task until you find another willing to take the job. At least then you'll have someone in the meantime."
A half offer for what they required. He took a step forward towards the the young man who apparently ran the castle, "Names Rutgard," he told him in his gruff voice, "Most call me Rut, however, ain't ever stood very much on niceties like you good folk but I'm handy with my axe at least."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Aug 23, 2018 17:35:16 GMT -8
Lait nodded, shivering slightly in the cold. He beckoned to the old guard, who shuffled his way over to look Rutgard over. The man, bent with age and with more wrinkles in his face than a basket of laundry, stared up at Rutgard for a few moments before nodding, apparently satisfied.
"Come along," he said, "I'll show you to the staff quarters."
His voice was gravelly and tired, with just a hint of the sharp professionalism of a guard. He shuffled off towards the inner keep, gesturing for Rutgard to follow. As they walked, he spoke once more.
"We have a few requirements to work here, Rut. The most important one, of course, is that discretion must be key. Nobody must know about the lord's illness. When his health began to fail, all but the most loyal few staff were let go, for fear that gossip might spread. You're an outsider, not from around here. That makes you valuable. As long as you can keep your mouth shut, you'll do well here. Any questions?"
He led Rutgard into the keep and through a long, twisting maze of hallways and corridors. The whole place seemed to have been built without any sort of rhyme or reason, but the old man knew the building inside and out.
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Aug 23, 2018 18:24:47 GMT -8
The old man who had been referred to as Mr. Rollins gave him the once over. Rut needed no change in his stature to reassure anyone, he stood proud and tall. His people were a proud people and he came from that stance. His offer being accepted he would follow keeping his pace in time with the other as he was told he was taking him to the staff quarters. The castle itself loomed overhead and drew his eye. Generally not too curious of a fellow, seeing as how sticking your nose where it didn't belong tended to get one in trouble, but he admired the height of it. The time it must have taken to build it and the man power came to mind first. It would be the one thing he asked when the opportunity arose.
"May I ask how old this place is?"
He had other questions. One about the master, about the whispers out beyond the gate, about why they needed protection. Their worry about their appearances was understandable but he figured it would come with time. Otherwise he was being paid as a hired hand in order to provide protection. Until he was asked more he would not press such issues. It was not his place just yet and his curiosity would not be sated in a few simple questions and he got the feeling old Mr. Rollins wasn't going to answer the rest.
Turning down another hall he'd been keeping track of their directions thus far in order to make his way out again if necessary.
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Hester Fairweather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Age: 25
Physical Description: A young woman, fairly tall standing five foot nine inches, and weighs a hair over one hundred and forty pounds. Her eyes are a striking brown and her hair a dirty red.
She has fair features and would be considered lovely to more than a few.
Yet this simple bard has many secretes... some grim. Sometimes , she could be found staring at the distance, with an expression of sorrow and anger.
Registered: Jul 23, 2017 14:03:19 GMT -8
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Post by Hester Fairweather on Aug 23, 2018 19:41:55 GMT -8
The sight of the estate ahead brought a sigh of relief from the traveling bard. She had been on the road for sometime now, after her misadventure in a set of ruins with a bungling nitwit that dared called him self a mage. There would be a chance to earn a room for a night or two, to wash the filth from her boots and clothing, and maybe even eat something with some flavor... Oh how Mrs Edith had spoiled her. The sigh was replaced by a fond smile, how were Edith and Flinn doing? It had been a while since she had saw them. Perhaps she ought make a trip back to their tavern soon.
The sound of her riding boots clacking against paved stone brought Hester from her thoughts, and the sight of the estate nearly gave her pause. It was lovely as a painting ,yet there was something foreboding about the high towers... uncomfortable memories slithered beneath the mire that was the bards inner most thoughts...thoughts she had long buried, memories long repressed. This is not the same place you lout... Hurry on before you get caught staring like some country bumpkin that had never seen a wall, let alone a tower.
Hester moved quickly to the edge of the trail, near a bridge. Bridges were a good sign typically, wealth at the very least, and wealth enjoyed music... That's when the sign caught her attention.
"Help wanted?" She read aloud, her voice melting the silence like butter warmed in a hot pan... "Perhaps I'm in a better straight of luck than I thought." The bard mused, and set about making her self presentable, the blue dress she wore fit her nicely, but was very modest in it's cut, the sword hanging from her belt seemed out of place , as did the pack she carried large as it was.
After making sure she looked the best she could , she called out. " Excuse me!" Her voice would carry rather well for a lady, she was a singer after all.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Aug 25, 2018 12:17:03 GMT -8
"Old," murmured Mr. Rollin. "Older than you or I know."
He led Rutgard to a small, sparsely furnished room. A rather worn bed sat up against the wall, a ragged blanket folded neatly at the foot. An empty shelf sat on the other side of the room, beside an old writing desk. A single candle burned on the desk, casting the room in a somewhat hazy twilight. Rollin gestured vaguely, with a wave of the hand.
"These are your quarters here, Rutgard. You can get settled in here as best as you can. In a little bit, I'll come collect you for dinner, which we'll be having with the family. Any questions at all?"
Meanwhile, at the outer gate, a golden-haired woman appeared at the top of the wall. She peered down at Hester, face twisted with confusion as to how such a small figure could make such a loud noise. She shouted back, although her prim and proper voice was nowhere near as powerful as Hester's.
"Hello, can I help you? We're not buying anything, if that's what you're here for. And if you're a lawyer, please go away! We've no work for lawyers, no matter what sort of rumors you've heard."
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Aug 25, 2018 16:24:22 GMT -8
Settling into the small room wouldn't take much, wasn't much there, still it was better than the simple accouterments of the local tavern and certainly had less bugs in it. Slipping off his pack and laying it upon the blanket at the end of the bed he would make himself comfortable shortly and perhaps clean up with the small basin made for such. Having passed Mr. Rollins on his way in his full height had been not yet quite accounted for as it could now be clearly seen against the walls and ceiling.
"Ay, I do, but none that require answering right away. Hired hands need know nothing other than their work isn't that right Mr. Rollins?"
He grinned at the elderly man clearly settling himself in for a sort of job that he might not have otherwise picked up. His Tain might have frowned upon him lending his services so easily but if he were to get home to his Tain he had to make some sacrifices.
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Hester Fairweather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Age: 25
Physical Description: A young woman, fairly tall standing five foot nine inches, and weighs a hair over one hundred and forty pounds. Her eyes are a striking brown and her hair a dirty red.
She has fair features and would be considered lovely to more than a few.
Yet this simple bard has many secretes... some grim. Sometimes , she could be found staring at the distance, with an expression of sorrow and anger.
Registered: Jul 23, 2017 14:03:19 GMT -8
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Post by Hester Fairweather on Aug 26, 2018 10:48:47 GMT -8
Catching sight of the golden haired woman Hester took in what she could at this distance. Fine clothing. Either this woman was the lord's favorite or the lady of the house. . . Hester had found out a couple times it was actually safer to offend the lady of the house than a lords favorite ---- handmaid? There were far to many puns to be made of that entire situation.
Hester curtsied low before answering " A simple traveling bard who seeks shelter from the harsh roads in exchange for a few songs and perhaps some tales if mi'lady sees it fit." She said loud enough to be heard clearly.
" As for rumors I have heard none of this place, nor would I trust any had I, prefer to judge the world as I see it rather than on the word of others." She lied smoothly. She had indeed heard ,some , rumors of this place but not enough to make any real decisions on. Even with some of the most Ghastly ones she'd take her chances here rather than what passed as an inn down in the village far below...
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Aug 30, 2018 16:26:28 GMT -8
Mr. Rollins nodded, chuckling at Rutgard's remark.
"You'll fit in well here, Rutgard. You're picking up on things pretty quick, I can already tell. Just keep your head down and do as you're told, and things will work out just fine."
He stepped out of the room, leaving the door slightly ajar behind him. A moment later, a large and well-groomed tabby cat came slinking into the room through the gap. It hopped up onto Rutgard's bed and stared judgmentally at him, meowing softly as it watched him through slitted eyes. Without taking its gaze off of him, it stalked over to his pillow and kneaded it a few times before sitting down on it.
Meanwhile, at the front gate, the golden-haired woman stared down at Hester. She frowned slightly, vanishing from the parapet. A few moments later, there was a loud clunk as the gates were unlatched. They cracked open slightly, just enough for a somewhat thin person to squeeze through. The golden-haired woman peeked out, beckoning to Hester.
"Well, come in then. I suppose having a bard around here wouldn't be too bad, we could use someone to lift our spirits...but we require someone with the ability to hold their tongue. In here, you neither see nor hear. Understood? I'm Sucette Creme, by the way. My father is the lord of the castle. Who are you, and where do you hail from?"
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Sept 1, 2018 7:24:49 GMT -8
"Yes sir," the butler leaving gave him time to ponder his situation. Honestly he was ready to head on home but if it had not been for his financial problems he would have already been gone. Being able to travel by land would have been the most secure route and one he could have taken without difficulty if it was not a few months journey from here. As it were traveling by sea would be two weeks at most and he liked the gentle rocking of the ship upon the waves. It was home to him when he had none before.
The open door seemed like an opportunity, or would to most, many might have taken advantage of the fact they could now explore the castle. Rut had almost no time to think of the option as a rather fat tabby entered his room. He eyed the orange furred monstrosity as it settled itself upon his pillow. He reached over a large hand scooping it up from its location, "I don't prefer fur upon my pillow, thank you," he wasn't completely cross with the creature but he didn't like to sleep in a pile of ginger strands.
If the cat took to clawing him he would toss it lightly to the floor, otherwise if it began to purr he would gently stroke underneath its chin taking a seat on the very bed it had made itself home upon.
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Hester Fairweather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Age: 25
Physical Description: A young woman, fairly tall standing five foot nine inches, and weighs a hair over one hundred and forty pounds. Her eyes are a striking brown and her hair a dirty red.
She has fair features and would be considered lovely to more than a few.
Yet this simple bard has many secretes... some grim. Sometimes , she could be found staring at the distance, with an expression of sorrow and anger.
Registered: Jul 23, 2017 14:03:19 GMT -8
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Post by Hester Fairweather on Sept 1, 2018 17:58:58 GMT -8
Seeing the woman disappear from the wall Hester waited, her hands tucked behind her back parade rest style. Either she was coming to let her in or going to find something to chuck at her...
The gate gave way with a creak, Hester simply nodded along with the woman's spiel. " A bard who doesn't know how to hold their tongue seldom keeps it." she joked, and only when she was motioned to the door did the bard move, strong confident strides carried her quickly to the door, but there was an undertone of caution. She'd not be caught off guard by some lout waiting with a club. All to often had Hester seen stories like this play out poorly for the guest. If any tired they'd find this bard was not so easy to subdue.
"Hester Fairweather of what is now Isra. " She lied smoothly, at least about where she was from. She knew enough of Isra and Medan to say she was from there however. "I found the city to be a tad to stuffy for my though and figured I'd make my own way to see the country side." She explained in a mirthful tone.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 2, 2018 17:09:12 GMT -8
The cat would fuss when Rutgard picked it up, but would submit to his scritches. It purred as he scratched it under its chin, clearly very content. A moment later, however, it decided that it had had enough and bit his hand before hopping out of his arms and stalking out of the room. Once more, Rutgard was left alone. Outside his room, he'd hear hurried footsteps and a woman's voice giving orders. It was just soft enough that he wouldn't be able to hear it clearly, besides tidbits about "butter" and "gravy" and "that damned cat". There was a crash and quite a bit of swearing, followed by a thump and a soft yowl. The cat returned a moment later, sitting in the doorway and staring suspiciously at Rutgard. Flecks of what appeared to be onion skin clung to its fur, a souvenir of its latest misadventure.
At the front gate, Hester would find a remarkable lack of club-wielding louts. The golden-haired woman gave her a weak smile, shutting the gate behind her.
"It's good to meet you, Ms. Fairweather. Come on in. We'll be having dinner soon. You can take dinner with us, and then afterwards you can sing for your supper...of course, if you're not any good, my mother keeps a supply of stale rolls to throw near her at all times. She's got quite an arm on her, for her age."
She led Hester into the keep, through a labyrinth of passageways and halls, until they reached a massive, empty feast hall. The tables in the center were scuffed but well-dusted, and a large painting overlooked the table from its place on the far wall. It depicted an older man and his wife, with three golden-haired children standing before them. One boy seemed to be the eldest, and stood by his father's side. The other two, a boy and a girl, looked to be a few years younger. They stood in front of their mother, with one of her hands resting on each of their shoulders.
"This is where we'll be having dinner. The guest rooms are right this way."
She passed through the feast hall and through another confusing maze of corridors until they reached a spacious, well-lit room. An ornate, comfortable bed sat on one end, with a small nightstand to its right. On the other side stood a dresser and a full-length mirror, luxuriously framed with gold leaf.
"You can stay here if you're good. Otherwise, mother might insist that you get put in the staff's quarters."
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Rutgard Isenhall
Established
Roleplay posts: 48
Age: 28
Physical Description: 6'2, broad shoulders and strong arms, generally wears his hair in some sort of braid. Avatar is otherwise accurate.
Clothes and Equipment: Rutgard has a distinct lack of caring for finery and generally wears plain clothing of linen or leather. During the winter he has a cloak of fur pieced together by some of the elder women who care for him when he returns from the hunt. He carries a large two handed axe that has been inscribed with ruins along the eye.
Registered: Aug 23, 2018 5:26:27 GMT -8
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Post by Rutgard Isenhall on Sept 3, 2018 12:27:08 GMT -8
“Cat!” His voice was but barely raised but it was full of irritation as he a few drops of blood came to the surface of the tender section of his hand between thumb and pointer finger. He did not immediately drop the creature as he was used to pain only the surprise of it getting to him. Tossing it a second later as it hopped in the process he would reach down and hold pressure on the small puncture points.
It appeared he was not to be the only one irritated by the small creature the sounds in the hall would make him chuckle. The damned cat as it was referred to made its way back to see him. “I don’t want you either you little demon,” he said to it but his good humored nature made it sound half joking in manner.
Either way he would cross the room and open the door slightly wider. “Shoo,” he would tell it nudging it with his boot. Standing on the precipice between the door and hall he would look down to the where he had heard the noise come from to see if the servant was still there.
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Hester Fairweather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Age: 25
Physical Description: A young woman, fairly tall standing five foot nine inches, and weighs a hair over one hundred and forty pounds. Her eyes are a striking brown and her hair a dirty red.
She has fair features and would be considered lovely to more than a few.
Yet this simple bard has many secretes... some grim. Sometimes , she could be found staring at the distance, with an expression of sorrow and anger.
Registered: Jul 23, 2017 14:03:19 GMT -8
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Post by Hester Fairweather on Sept 6, 2018 9:02:31 GMT -8
With out missing a beat the red head's eyes darted left and right to be certain there was no one in waiting, though doing so in a manner that might have simply been a commoner gawking at such an interesting manor.
" I'm not one for target practice, I may sing while the others dine if that is agreeable, I'd hate to disappoint after such a kindness was extended to me." Hester chimed, following the woman closely while dedicating the labyrinth to memory , it was never a good idea to wander in such a large place without having some idea of where you were... Though simply remembering how many steps and which turns wasn't always enough to return from whence you came in some places... A shutter raced down the bard's spine...
" I see, rather spacious, does the lord often hold gatherings?" Hester asked as she was lead to the guest room.
A second maze, a second plan of escape, Hester made note of how many turns, how many doors... But so also noted something else... or rather the lack there of. For such a large , well cleaned place, she'd not seen hide nor hair of a servant... Curious...
" Most agreeable Lady Creme, if it pleases, I'd go a head and prepare for dinner's performance, These travel stained clothes ill fit such a luxurious home and I shan't sully it with my meager presence." the bard mused with a warm smile. " I take it there is a wash bowl in the next door? "
Distantly Hester's ears picked up some sort of commotion, a woman barking orders from the tone. Perhaps this was simply a more empty portion of the manor...
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on Sept 10, 2018 18:47:48 GMT -8
Rutgard's efforts to shoo the cat proved ineffective, as the troublesome feline simply stared at him. A moment later, he would see a rather short and portly woman wearing an apron step into the hall, looking up and down the floor for any sign of the cat. As soon as she spotted the accursed creature, she pulled an onion from her pocket and flung it with all her might. It hit the cat squarely in the haunch, producing a yowl as it very nearly leaped out of its fur. The cat ran off, and the woman dusted her hands off on her apron, grinning smugly.
"Well, hello there. I see that awful animal has been bothering you as well. They're everywhere, I'm afraid. The Mistress loves to feed them and pet them, so they stick around and are only ever nice to her. Everyone else gets bitten and scratched and terrorized. They're no good, cats."
She looked up at the hulking man, forehead wrinkling with curiosity.
"Also, who might you be? I wasn't aware that the family had hired anyone else recently. I'm Agatha, I'm the head cook. Well, only cook. Unless you count my assistant, but you really shouldn't."
Meanwhile, Sucette hesitated before answering Hester's question.
"He...he used to, but we haven't had any visitors in a very long time. He's fallen ill, you see. We've had doctors, medicine men, priests, barber-surgeons...none of them seem to be able to help very much. It's very unfortunate, and mother has become very frail from the stress. And yes, you can wash up in the next room. I'll send someone to fill your basin."
She walked off, leaving Hester alone. If she headed to the washroom, she'd find a very simple but clean washbasin, complete with a towel and a mirror. Several minutes later, a young teenaged boy wandered quietly over. He poked his freckled head in the door, peeking cautiously at Hester.
"Er, excuse me ma'am. I've got your hot water for your wash basin right here."
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Hester Fairweather
Committed
Roleplay posts: 51
Age: 25
Physical Description: A young woman, fairly tall standing five foot nine inches, and weighs a hair over one hundred and forty pounds. Her eyes are a striking brown and her hair a dirty red.
She has fair features and would be considered lovely to more than a few.
Yet this simple bard has many secretes... some grim. Sometimes , she could be found staring at the distance, with an expression of sorrow and anger.
Registered: Jul 23, 2017 14:03:19 GMT -8
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Post by Hester Fairweather on Sept 11, 2018 15:19:44 GMT -8
Noting the hesitation Hester made note to steer clear of that topic. " Ah, Forgive me for treading upon such dreadful news. My condolences for his misfortune, seems awfulness clings to those who least deserve it does it not?" Hester asked with a well practiced empathic expression.
Hester made note that this was the lords daughter rather than his wife- though when the young woman mentioned that her mother was frail from the stress Hester felt an honest pang of sympathy... " Stress does have a way of consuming folk doesn't it.." She said in a low , pained, tone.
" Enough misery though, I can't very well cheer folk around me if I'm sobbing now can I?"The bard chimed, her tone and expression picking up what ever heavy weight the your lady had drug up from the depths of the bards' mind.
"Thank you again lady Creme." Hester answered as the woman left...
Having a moment to herself Hester exhaled deeply. "Seems an all to common thing, people withering from the torrent of stress inflicted upon them by the heart..." She muttered, before taking a calming breath.
Reaching out with her mind she felt for any signs of magic within the halls near her. Her sword---Garret--- allowed her to feel the presence of magic--- both natural and shaped. That is to say should a creature of magic, such as a specter be lingering in the near area she'd be aware of it. The same was true of spell craft, though she'd be able to gauge it's strength and purpose to some degree, useful traits for a-
The door opened, bringing Hester back to her current situation. She stared at the boy for a moment, hand lingering on the grip of her still sheathed sword-- "Young men should knock before poking there noses in on guest, let alone a lady." She said taking her hand from her weapon, and offering a warm smile. " Thank you boy, go on and set it down before you scold your fingers." She suggested before digging into her coin purse for a silver coin to toss the lad. " For your troubles -young man." She corrected now having a better glance at him.
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