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Post by Merenwe on Aug 21, 2014 13:15:54 GMT -5
((OOC: Welcome to the mind of Ellyse, as this is my very first thread and post I will be delving into the creation of Ellyse to make her as vivid and real as I can. That said, I hope you either enjoy reading about, or participating in the forming of Ellyse!))
Ellyse shrugged the strap of her pack up higher onto her shoulder as she plodded into the outskirts of Araluen. Dust coated her from head to foot, her face grimy from her trek across the fief. Wiping the sweat from her brow she paused to take in her surroundings. Buildings lined the streets with pictures portraying what type of establishments they were, a shoe for a cobbler, a loaf of bread for a bakery, and a picture of a pony with the word 'Inn' carved above it.
"There's what we're lookin' for eh, Cah?" Ellyse remarked to the small grey cat sitting beside her. The cat looked up at her with round eyes and mewed wistfully. Ellyse smirked, "Well, let's show 'um what we got." She turned and strode to the inns' door with Cahir trailing behind.
Pushing the door open, Ellyse and Cahir were instantly surrounded by the hustle and bustle of people laughing, eating, arguing, and rushing about. Ellyse bent down so that Cahir could jump onto her shoulder and then forged her way through the crowd to the bar at the back of the common room.
She stood at the bar waiting for the keeper to take notice of her. As she waited her thoughts wandered, 'This must be one of the more popular places in town, not only for sleep and drink, but a place for people to catch up with the latest gossip.' A sly grin spread across her face, 'The perfect place for me to be.' At last the innkeeper noticed her and came over. "Wha' can I do fer you miss?" The big man questioned Ellyse. She glanced around the room, "I am a bard," she said smiling at the innkeepers obvious interest, bards were money making machines for Inns after all, "I would be willing to trade my services for a few nights rest here at your inn," she raised an eyebrow, "what do you say?" The innkeeper looked at her a moment before sicking out his hand and replying "Yes, I think tw'll do finely. Ye can take th' room on th' right at the end o' the hall upstairs. Need some'un t' show ye?" Ellyse shook her head, "It's just at the end and to the right? I should find it easily, thank you though." She turned towards the stairs and walked off, wondering what she'd find here in Araluen.
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Post by Brandwyn on Sept 7, 2014 0:04:55 GMT -5
Timothy sat against the wall where he had a good view of the bar and the door and most of the occupants of the tavern. At 5’11” tall with long wavy dark auburn hair he was considered handsome for a middle-aged man. He was no longer a fugitive, having been reinstated as a knight in Norgate fief so he wore his circlet made of a narrow band of brass with a knotwork design etched into it. At regular intervals around the circlet were six set-in sapphires. He had crafted the circlet over 20 years ago for his knighting ceremony. He was wearing black trousers with a black wool under tunic. Over that was a dark gray tunic with long sleeves made of soft leather he tanned himself and dark gray riding boots that laced all the way up to his knees, also made by him. His black suede leather gloves were resting on the table next to his now empty plate. His black woolen cloak with a wolf fur trim was hanging off the back of the chair next to him which also housed his hurdy-gurdy in its waterproof case. The cloak pin in the design of a falcon with tiny sapphires for the eyes caught the flickering light from the fireplace and gave the pin an eerie glow. The sapphires match not only the stones in the circlet but also the bright blue of his eyes. The woolen clothing used to be of high quality, though it was a bit travel worn and there were mends in several locations where the rents in the fabric most likely were caused from battle. His craftsmanship with the leather items is quite good.
He watched a young lady enter the establishment and followed her with his eyes as she spoke to the innkeeper. He could tell she led a rover’s lifestyle from the state of her travel worn clothing. She didn’t seem to be a warrior or a courier, however. He wondered what her occupation was.
Timothy leaned back in his chair and glanced at his hurdy-gurdy, his angular face showing curiosity instead of the usual impassive expression. With high cheek bones, a straight forehead and a long straight nose, most women would find him attractive, although he was now starting to show gray hair at his temples and even a few in his neatly trimmed beard and mustache.
As the girl went back to the room she’d obviously just procured, he turned his attention back to the crowd. He was in the mood to play and perhaps he could get some coins to go towards the debt he owed as part of his pardon agreement with the Baron of Norgate.
He pulled the hurdy-gurdy out of its case and examined it for damage as he always did. It was in good order, so he cranked the little handle on the box and then began to play a popular folk song that should be a favorite for most of the patrons of the inn. His case lay open on the chair next to him as he began to hum a counter melody to the hurdy-gurdy. His voice was a beautiful baritone, trained from childhood and the noise level in the hall instantly dropped.
He began to sing and soon they were stomping their feet or pounding the tables in time with the lively song. He had their attention and knew how to entertain a crowd like this as well as he could entertain at a Baron’s court.
When he’d finished the crowd clapped and cheered and several small coins were tossed into his hurdy-gurdy case. He smiled and thanked them, thinking once again that he could have made his living by his voice rather than his sword if things had gone differently so many years ago. Perhaps he could have even been in the King’s Choir and entertained the Royal Court, if he’d been good enough. He certainly loved singing with others and weaving between melody and harmony, especially when the other singers were equally or more talented and trained than he was.
He found his ale had been refilled and took a moment to drink down a third of the mug, trying to decide what to sing next. The crowd had gone back to talking, though they kept looking to see when he was going to give them another song.
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Kallie
Apprentice Messenger
Posts: 422
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Post by Kallie on Nov 10, 2014 11:18:10 GMT -5
Nissa needed cover and safety. Something that the woods weren't giving her right now. She had lost the search party that had gone after her that she was sure of. She paused in her running to lean against a tree and catch her breath. She smiled and dug her hands in her pockets. She had been particularly successful in pick pocketing some very unfortunate villagers. She had mostly coppers but there were a few silver coins and one or two purses she had filched from unwary persons belts. Yes all in all successful. She had only been caught by another pick pocketer, he had called the watch in on her and she of course had fled. She had a price on her head after all. She wasn't about to stick around for them turn her in no sir she had high tailed it out of there as fast as she could the guards in pursuit. Now however she really needed a place in which she could fade into a crowd become just another face for a few hours before continuing on her journey. An inn yes and inn was the perfect place. She trotted into the town and slipped into the closest inn and sat toward the back at an empty table, the cowl of her cloak up and concealing her face. She noticed there was a minstrel sipping a beverage and wondered if he was going to play or if he already had. She wasn't going to complain if worse came to worse people would be more focused on him than he rand she could just slip out the back and fade away and no one would even remember she was there. Well in theory anyway.
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Post by Brandwyn on Jul 4, 2015 11:14:08 GMT -5
Timothy strummed an idle chord on the hurdy gurdy and made an adjustment to the instrument. Perhaps a sad song this time, to match his pensive mood.
"What's the big idea?" a large flagon of ale plopped down on the table across from him and he looked up to see a burley peasant glaring at him.
"I beg your pardon?" Timothy asked smoothly, still playing random chords. He acted as if the man was no more than a minor annoyance to him. He suspected what had gotten the peasant all upset and in his face.
"You'd better be beggin' pardon, Sirrrr!" he emphasized Timothy's knightly title as if it were a personal insult. "You noblemen can't take enough of our money by force? You gotta come stickin yer big noses in here where yer not wanted and trick us into giving ya more of our hard-earned coin? You greedy bastard!" The peasant dove for the hurdy gurdy, intending to smash it into the stones of the fireplace beside Tim.
Timothy pushed with both feet on the cross-braces under the table and shoved it into the man's gut, pushing him backward into the men sitting around the table behind him. At the same time Tim swiftly stowed his instrument in its hardened leather case to prevent it from being damaged.
He remained sitting calmly, though under the table he had slipped the peace ties off his sword and belt knife, just in case he had to defend himself. He had no wish to kill a drunkard who was looking for a good fight.
"Let me buy you another ale to make it up to you and your friends," Tim offered with a smile. His eyes were not smiling, however. He was looking to see who would be on the peasant's side in this crowd.
The big man heaved his bulk off the men he'd landed on and shoved the table back at Tim, intending to pin him against the wall, but the table only went as far as Tim's legs would allow it. He was still pushing at the bracing under the table. "Like Hell!" the peasant swore and cracked his knuckles, "I wouldn't take a sip of nothing no noble scum offered me. I will take what you owe this lot out of your hide." He tried to move around the table and grab Tim's tunic. "And then I'm gonna smash that weird contraption of yours so you can't go trickin others to waste their money on ya."
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