Graf
Explorer
This thread is the IC thread for the player guided "extreme PoL" game. Haven't a proper title yet.
4e ePoL
Graf
Explorer
Karothen visits the gilr's house in the evening.
Karothen looked down upon the small hut. Warm light and the sounds of human activity filled the air. It had been a long time since he'd been out this late at night, the town had already grown quiet, for it was the custom that people did not go out once dark fell.
Karothen looked down upon the small hut. Warm light and the sounds of human activity filled the air. It had been a long time since he'd been out this late at night, the town had already grown quiet, for it was the custom that people did not go out once dark fell.
hewligan
First Post
First Contact
Karothen was nervous, but also he was feeling strangely emboldened by the sudden inexplicable impulse that had come upon him to make this trip. It had been a normal day, like any other. Slow, uneventful, full of tinkering and careful mending. His fingers ached like other peoples' muscles ached. It came from holding tiny blades and paint brushes, glue sticks and slivered glass panels that acted as magnifiers. He would focus so hard, and for so long, on dismantling, cleaning, and rebuilding something, that the hours often slipped past. And when darkness fell, he would uncurl his back and stretch each finger in turn.
Most nights he would stumble home in a sleepy daze, knowing that gran and Old Hook would be sitting in silence to some gruel, or perhaps, on rare occasions, some proper stew with a thin wedge of bread. There would be a bowl, waiting for him, and a wooden tumbler filled with dusty water. Not tonight though. He hadn't gone home. He had made his mind up when he was tidying away his work.
He had been focused on trying to repair a leather belt. The belt was largely fine, but the buckle had snapped. He had spent time searching amongst his father's ordered stash of metal pieces, until he had found what looked to be a tooth from some threshing tool long broken. He knew he could heat and coil that metal throng and perhaps fix the belt, and that is what he had set about doing. It had worked, but had been too long, and so he had to do a second heating to shear it, and then the painstaking business of filing down the sharp end and sides. In the end the belt had been repaired, and he had finished his work by reapplying some paint to the leather. It didn't look as good as new, but then nothing did, and nobody even knew what that really looked like. It did, however, look functional.
It was when he had been moving the file back into its drawer that his mind had aroused some urgency in him. There, in the same drawer he had opened a hundred times on a hundred days, was what looked like a piece of the little statue that the girl had brought to him. He unwrapped his own soft bundle that he always kept close to himself and laid it out carefully, like some priceless gem, on the worktop. It was a mess - a shattered mess, still 'tainted' by the silver paint he had applied. He had hated the work he had done, felt ashamed of it. Felt, inexplicably, like he had insulted the true value of the piece with his useless attempts to create something whole of it. He kept the remnants of it close to him for two reasons. For one, it reminded him of the girl, and while he did not like to think of her reaction to him that day, he did still think of her a lot. For two, it made him accept the horrendous crudity of the work that he did each day.
And now he had found some fragment from it. But why? And why in his drawer? He had definitely found every piece when she had thrown it down. He was sure of that, because he had cleaned up the pieces and laid them out so many times, trying to understand what the statue meant, trying to understand what he had done wrong to it. But here was a new piece, in his drawer ... a section of wing.
Nobody but he came here, except when the children brought him things. He was confused.
But he was also sure of what he had to do. He was going to seek out the girl, return the item to her, and let her know that he had found another piece for it. Perhaps this would at least partially make up for the obvious hurt his good intentions had inflicted upon her last time.
And so here he was, the light bleeding out of the sky, looking down on the hut where Eldan and his family live. He knew Eldan, knew he was related to the girl, just based on the way she looked, and thus had decided that perhaps he could help him.
Karothen swallowed. Now that he was here he wanted to go back. This was not like him. He had never been so impetuous. It felt strange. But he forced himself. Something inside was telling him that if he lost this courage now, he would be unlikely to find it again. And so he moved forward, reaching the small porch and resting his knuckles against the thin wooden door of the house. He could hear noises inside, as if people were at dinner.
Karothen knocked twice at the door, taking a single step back, his head lowered.
Karothen was nervous, but also he was feeling strangely emboldened by the sudden inexplicable impulse that had come upon him to make this trip. It had been a normal day, like any other. Slow, uneventful, full of tinkering and careful mending. His fingers ached like other peoples' muscles ached. It came from holding tiny blades and paint brushes, glue sticks and slivered glass panels that acted as magnifiers. He would focus so hard, and for so long, on dismantling, cleaning, and rebuilding something, that the hours often slipped past. And when darkness fell, he would uncurl his back and stretch each finger in turn.
Most nights he would stumble home in a sleepy daze, knowing that gran and Old Hook would be sitting in silence to some gruel, or perhaps, on rare occasions, some proper stew with a thin wedge of bread. There would be a bowl, waiting for him, and a wooden tumbler filled with dusty water. Not tonight though. He hadn't gone home. He had made his mind up when he was tidying away his work.
He had been focused on trying to repair a leather belt. The belt was largely fine, but the buckle had snapped. He had spent time searching amongst his father's ordered stash of metal pieces, until he had found what looked to be a tooth from some threshing tool long broken. He knew he could heat and coil that metal throng and perhaps fix the belt, and that is what he had set about doing. It had worked, but had been too long, and so he had to do a second heating to shear it, and then the painstaking business of filing down the sharp end and sides. In the end the belt had been repaired, and he had finished his work by reapplying some paint to the leather. It didn't look as good as new, but then nothing did, and nobody even knew what that really looked like. It did, however, look functional.
It was when he had been moving the file back into its drawer that his mind had aroused some urgency in him. There, in the same drawer he had opened a hundred times on a hundred days, was what looked like a piece of the little statue that the girl had brought to him. He unwrapped his own soft bundle that he always kept close to himself and laid it out carefully, like some priceless gem, on the worktop. It was a mess - a shattered mess, still 'tainted' by the silver paint he had applied. He had hated the work he had done, felt ashamed of it. Felt, inexplicably, like he had insulted the true value of the piece with his useless attempts to create something whole of it. He kept the remnants of it close to him for two reasons. For one, it reminded him of the girl, and while he did not like to think of her reaction to him that day, he did still think of her a lot. For two, it made him accept the horrendous crudity of the work that he did each day.
And now he had found some fragment from it. But why? And why in his drawer? He had definitely found every piece when she had thrown it down. He was sure of that, because he had cleaned up the pieces and laid them out so many times, trying to understand what the statue meant, trying to understand what he had done wrong to it. But here was a new piece, in his drawer ... a section of wing.
Nobody but he came here, except when the children brought him things. He was confused.
But he was also sure of what he had to do. He was going to seek out the girl, return the item to her, and let her know that he had found another piece for it. Perhaps this would at least partially make up for the obvious hurt his good intentions had inflicted upon her last time.
And so here he was, the light bleeding out of the sky, looking down on the hut where Eldan and his family live. He knew Eldan, knew he was related to the girl, just based on the way she looked, and thus had decided that perhaps he could help him.
Karothen swallowed. Now that he was here he wanted to go back. This was not like him. He had never been so impetuous. It felt strange. But he forced himself. Something inside was telling him that if he lost this courage now, he would be unlikely to find it again. And so he moved forward, reaching the small porch and resting his knuckles against the thin wooden door of the house. He could hear noises inside, as if people were at dinner.
Karothen knocked twice at the door, taking a single step back, his head lowered.
Eldan was finally settling in to start his supper after a long day. Like most, he had spent the morning at weapons training. Having mastered the basic techniques of the dagger, he had moved on to working with a spear, which he was surprised to discover had a very different feel to it. The guardsmen had him using it similarly to the dagger, aim the point at the enemy and jab it at him. While that seemed a reasonable starting point, Eldan had come close once or twice to finding a better approach. He had even thought for a moment or two that two men, one using the dagger and one with a spear, might be able to work more effectively with each other than either alone. He hadn't quite come up with a method, but it seemed like the dagger's quickness and the spear's reach would help cover for each other's weaknesses. Just as he was about to figure it out, it seemed, his training time had ended and he'd had to rush off to the river.
There he'd spent a typical afternoon with his father. Enric didn't talk much while they watched the river. Eldan believed it came from so many years of watching alone. It had been over a decade since his grandfather had stopped joining his son for their duty. The smoke and his chair had become too tempting, and Enric too capable to require his presence. Now Eldan was on his way to being able to relieve his father at some point in the future. The downside was that little of interest happened during the long hours of watching. Every now and then he'd bring his rod and catch a fish or two, and once in a long while something truly unusual would find its way down the current and into town. Just today he had once dragged a few logs, tied together with leather strips, out of the river. He had wondered for a while about who might have tied them together, but then he had gone back to watching.
He had returned home, as he did every day, ready to eat, rest, and then do it all again tomorrow. Unfortunately, his mother had greeted him with the news that Jeilla was missing again, and he had to spend the next hour tracking his wayward cousin down. He had first checked the usual place, the large building with all the windows, but for once she wasn't there. It took him a while to remember the space she had cleared for herself in the bramble. He still didn't understand why she didn't bring her 'treasures' home. It would be much easier for her to look at them, which is what is all she ever seemed to do with them.
Sure enough, he had found her sitting in the small clearing in the bramble, having dug up the wooden box she buried there, just staring at a piece of metal attached to a chain. The shape, it looked sort of like a sun, wasn't even that pretty. He expected young girls to be more interested in flowers or shiny rocks. She just stared at that round piece of dull metal for another ten minutes before he could get her to put her possessions away in the box and bury it again so that they could get home. By then he could hear his stomach over the sound of her worldess singing as they walked together.
Now here he was, ready to eat, and someone was knocking at the door. He accepted his duty and stood up. He walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see the fixer, Karothen, there. Eldan couldn't remember ever seeing the quiet young man away from his shop, where Eldan had brought him a few strange things that he had found over the years. He couldn't figure out what the fixer might want that would bring him here at suppertime. Still, he had always been a nice enough fellow, and Eldan's curiosity got the better of him. Karothen, what brings you here? he asked, trying to make the young man feel welcome. It has been a while. Have you fixed anything interesting recently?
There he'd spent a typical afternoon with his father. Enric didn't talk much while they watched the river. Eldan believed it came from so many years of watching alone. It had been over a decade since his grandfather had stopped joining his son for their duty. The smoke and his chair had become too tempting, and Enric too capable to require his presence. Now Eldan was on his way to being able to relieve his father at some point in the future. The downside was that little of interest happened during the long hours of watching. Every now and then he'd bring his rod and catch a fish or two, and once in a long while something truly unusual would find its way down the current and into town. Just today he had once dragged a few logs, tied together with leather strips, out of the river. He had wondered for a while about who might have tied them together, but then he had gone back to watching.
He had returned home, as he did every day, ready to eat, rest, and then do it all again tomorrow. Unfortunately, his mother had greeted him with the news that Jeilla was missing again, and he had to spend the next hour tracking his wayward cousin down. He had first checked the usual place, the large building with all the windows, but for once she wasn't there. It took him a while to remember the space she had cleared for herself in the bramble. He still didn't understand why she didn't bring her 'treasures' home. It would be much easier for her to look at them, which is what is all she ever seemed to do with them.
Sure enough, he had found her sitting in the small clearing in the bramble, having dug up the wooden box she buried there, just staring at a piece of metal attached to a chain. The shape, it looked sort of like a sun, wasn't even that pretty. He expected young girls to be more interested in flowers or shiny rocks. She just stared at that round piece of dull metal for another ten minutes before he could get her to put her possessions away in the box and bury it again so that they could get home. By then he could hear his stomach over the sound of her worldess singing as they walked together.
Now here he was, ready to eat, and someone was knocking at the door. He accepted his duty and stood up. He walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see the fixer, Karothen, there. Eldan couldn't remember ever seeing the quiet young man away from his shop, where Eldan had brought him a few strange things that he had found over the years. He couldn't figure out what the fixer might want that would bring him here at suppertime. Still, he had always been a nice enough fellow, and Eldan's curiosity got the better of him. Karothen, what brings you here? he asked, trying to make the young man feel welcome. It has been a while. Have you fixed anything interesting recently?
hewligan
First Post
"A belt" Karothen blurted, latching on to the question as it offered something familiar and easy to answer. Then he blushed, realising he should have greeted Eldan first. He cast his face down again, trying to hide his embarrassment.
"Good evening." He mumbled. "I am sorry to interrupt." He could smell the scents of the evening meal wafting through to them. He could hear the gentle clatter of cutlery on plates. His bad timing exacerbated his embarrassment.
"You are busy. I should come again later. I am sorry." He made to turn to leave.
"Good evening." He mumbled. "I am sorry to interrupt." He could smell the scents of the evening meal wafting through to them. He could hear the gentle clatter of cutlery on plates. His bad timing exacerbated his embarrassment.
"You are busy. I should come again later. I am sorry." He made to turn to leave.
Eldan's curiosity slowly overcame his hunger, and he realized how unusual this visit truly was. He started to feel an overwhelming need to know what had brought Karothen there. No, wait, he entreated the fixer. You have come all this way, and at supper time, it must be something important. He realized how uncomfortable his guest was feeling and tried to ease his mind. Please, come inside. I am sure my mother would be happy to set an extra place. Maybe after some food I can help you with what you seek.
Graf
Explorer
Eldan's mother bustles to the door.
Oh certainly, always room for another. Who... She comes into sight of Karothen. Turns to look at back into the room before turning back to greet Karothen warmly. "Oh, very nice. Do come in. Enric, Masha, ? Look Jeilla's suitor has come to call."
At this Karothen can hear a slight murmer and the sound of a chair sliding back. It appears that Enric's sister Masha and Jeilla are dining at Eldan's house this evening. Enric rises from the table to come over and shake Karothen's hand. After a firm grip he spins Karothens hand over, holding it firmly prods gently at the calluses the young man has developed from long hours in his shop.
"Worker" he grunts positively showing the hand to Masha, Masha looks up from where she's sitting at the table, but doesn't rise, or shift.
Jeilla? That nice boy you're always visiting is here. Eldan's mother circles Jeilla, pulling gently at her mop of missmached hair in an attempt to bring it to some sort of order. Jeilla scowls at the ministrations. Now, now. Boys like a girl who smiles. Come now, just a little one.
Masha, Jeilla's mother and Enric's sister, smiles wainly at the activity; heavily dazed she doesn't seem capible of doing more than looking in Karothen's direction and smiling vaguely.
Jeilla stares sourly aheaed. Eldan's mother makes a harumphing sound. Turning to Karothen she puts on her best smile and says "She's very quiet. Nary a peep. Some folk say that's a good thing."
Jeilla is gripping her knife so tightly that it's shaking slightly, and the flesh around her hand is bone white. But save for a slight tick in her cheek she doesn't move.
Eldan's mother lets out another sigh and after a half hearted attempt to pull back a particularly long and messy chunk of hair she slides into her seat.
"Good potates today." says Enric as he begins to dig in.
Oh certainly, always room for another. Who... She comes into sight of Karothen. Turns to look at back into the room before turning back to greet Karothen warmly. "Oh, very nice. Do come in. Enric, Masha, ? Look Jeilla's suitor has come to call."
At this Karothen can hear a slight murmer and the sound of a chair sliding back. It appears that Enric's sister Masha and Jeilla are dining at Eldan's house this evening. Enric rises from the table to come over and shake Karothen's hand. After a firm grip he spins Karothens hand over, holding it firmly prods gently at the calluses the young man has developed from long hours in his shop.
"Worker" he grunts positively showing the hand to Masha, Masha looks up from where she's sitting at the table, but doesn't rise, or shift.
Jeilla? That nice boy you're always visiting is here. Eldan's mother circles Jeilla, pulling gently at her mop of missmached hair in an attempt to bring it to some sort of order. Jeilla scowls at the ministrations. Now, now. Boys like a girl who smiles. Come now, just a little one.
Masha, Jeilla's mother and Enric's sister, smiles wainly at the activity; heavily dazed she doesn't seem capible of doing more than looking in Karothen's direction and smiling vaguely.
Jeilla stares sourly aheaed. Eldan's mother makes a harumphing sound. Turning to Karothen she puts on her best smile and says "She's very quiet. Nary a peep. Some folk say that's a good thing."
Jeilla is gripping her knife so tightly that it's shaking slightly, and the flesh around her hand is bone white. But save for a slight tick in her cheek she doesn't move.
Eldan's mother lets out another sigh and after a half hearted attempt to pull back a particularly long and messy chunk of hair she slides into her seat.
"Good potates today." says Enric as he begins to dig in.
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hewligan
First Post
Karothen finds himself shepherded into the small dining room, intruding upon a family meal in full flow. This is not what he wanted. He is not sure what he wanted. All he knows is that something was nagging at him for these past weeks, since the girl threw the statue he had tried to repair for her on the floor. It wasn't just sadness at having hurt her, or confusion over what she had wanted him to do to the statue in the first place. It was something else, some desire to understand her hurt, to unmake it, and perhaps to find out just what this little broken thing had meant to her. And then when he had found the piece of wing in his drawer it had just brought everything back to the fore.
He should have thought more clearly. He should have just waited until his mind had settled down again.
As he took a seat, feeling the combined interest of the family upon him, his eyes moved to catch a glance of Jeillia. So that was the girl's name. A simple name. A pretty name.
Her gaze was cold, her brow furrowed, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment at his presence and the scene it had created. Karothen wilted under that gaze. She must hate him even more now.
He looked at the plate they thrust before him. They were being very generous.
Thank you. The food smells lovely. His voice sounded so quiet in his own ears. He tried to speak up, to gain some control over the situation. I didn't mean to intrude. Time must have run away from me this evening. I thought it was earlier. It was not my intention to interrupt your dinner.
The cooing from Eldan's mother seemed to indicate that this was no intrusion.
Your generosity is exceptional. Perhaps after dinner I can repay you by taking some items that need repairing?
He felt better now. He felt more in control. He waiting until everyone had sat down again and joined them in eating. He was no longer hungry, despite his earlier appetite, but he forced himself to eat for it would have been rude not to.
He noticed, through the meal, through the endless chatter from Eldan's mother trying to make him comfortable, that Jeillia never once lifted her gaze from her plate, her knife slowly moving items around, but with no food ever reaching her mouth. She was not happy.
He should have thought more clearly. He should have just waited until his mind had settled down again.
As he took a seat, feeling the combined interest of the family upon him, his eyes moved to catch a glance of Jeillia. So that was the girl's name. A simple name. A pretty name.
Her gaze was cold, her brow furrowed, her cheeks reddened in embarrassment at his presence and the scene it had created. Karothen wilted under that gaze. She must hate him even more now.
He looked at the plate they thrust before him. They were being very generous.
Thank you. The food smells lovely. His voice sounded so quiet in his own ears. He tried to speak up, to gain some control over the situation. I didn't mean to intrude. Time must have run away from me this evening. I thought it was earlier. It was not my intention to interrupt your dinner.
The cooing from Eldan's mother seemed to indicate that this was no intrusion.
Your generosity is exceptional. Perhaps after dinner I can repay you by taking some items that need repairing?
He felt better now. He felt more in control. He waiting until everyone had sat down again and joined them in eating. He was no longer hungry, despite his earlier appetite, but he forced himself to eat for it would have been rude not to.
He noticed, through the meal, through the endless chatter from Eldan's mother trying to make him comfortable, that Jeillia never once lifted her gaze from her plate, her knife slowly moving items around, but with no food ever reaching her mouth. She was not happy.
Eldan quickly lost focus on the visitor, entirely engrossed by the offered food. He didn't notice that Jeilla ate nothing, but that was hardly unusual. He just dug in and kept eating, content to have this warm reward for a day of hard effort, another routine in what was becoming a life of routine.
His next significant thought came as he scooped the last of the stew out of his bowl with a piece of fresh bread. He finally glanced over and saw Karothen's expression as he looked at Jeilla. Clearly the fixer was distressed about something, and Jeilla was at the heart of it. Eldan wasn't really surprised.
So what is it that brings you here, he asked Karothen. Are you looking for something new to fix? I can't think of anything we have that would interest you, although I haven't really looked for a few years now. With a look of sympathy for the other youth, Eldan turned his attention to his eccentric cousin. Jeilla, how long has it been since you brought something to Karothen?
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why her blush deepened.
His next significant thought came as he scooped the last of the stew out of his bowl with a piece of fresh bread. He finally glanced over and saw Karothen's expression as he looked at Jeilla. Clearly the fixer was distressed about something, and Jeilla was at the heart of it. Eldan wasn't really surprised.
So what is it that brings you here, he asked Karothen. Are you looking for something new to fix? I can't think of anything we have that would interest you, although I haven't really looked for a few years now. With a look of sympathy for the other youth, Eldan turned his attention to his eccentric cousin. Jeilla, how long has it been since you brought something to Karothen?
For the life of him, he couldn't figure out why her blush deepened.
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