Fort Knocks - knight otu judging
- Thread starter Kahuna Burger
- Start date
Sparky
Registered User
From Redoak:
Rainca’s weight shifts from foot to foot as Andrew and Susan speak. She shakes her head looking at the ground before her feet. What has Rainca done? She is not a war-chief to lead others into battle. Or a wise one like the Bukun’e to sing the old songs. A twinge in her arm makes her wince and she reflexively reaches up, hand brushing the pale, stained hilt of a strange dagger bound to her upper arm. Quite suddenly she goes very still. She closes her eyes, nodding slightly. She opens her eyes and raises her head, unlimbering one of her javelins and holding it out before her across her open, calloused palms. She bows, holding the sleek spear out toward Andrew, Susan, Skeeter and the other nearby hoar-suns.
She speaks, her gravelly voice softened with sadness, “The hoar-suns will learn to run and sing and fight as Barav Kree under the eyes of The Laugher.”
********
Outside:
At the carved candle, Rainca stops and drops to her knees before the sign with many languages, surprise plain on her face. She bends over her knees and begins singing a wordless song in a low voice. She straightens, the pitch of her voice rising, arms stretching out from her sides. The song is deep, ancient. And though Rainca’s voice is rough and unrefined, the song’s power fills the chest with the sweet jolt of homecoming. She finishes on a low note, hunching down as she lowers her arms into her lap.
She sits quietly for a moment.
Rainca stands, wiping tears from her eyes. She soaks the end of a care-worn sash in wine and wraps the cloth around her fingertips, reverently brushing the runic symbol with the wine-damp cloth. With her fingers pressed to the symbol she murmurs, “Barav esh iy’e vo, Barav esh iy’e lo.”
She turns and finds the eyes of the various folk on her, some look puzzled, some wary, a few stricken.
She swallows, “This symbol is dey,” she pauses searching for the right word, “It means we enter a place of Hospitality.” The emphasis on the word is plain. “There is no more sacred place to the Barav Kree than the hearth another shares with all.”
Rainca did not think this would be the first thing she would share of the Barav Kree. She smiles quietly to herself… But Rainca could not have chosen a better place to start. Perhaps Rainca didn’t choose this. Her hands close over the flute hung around her neck. She shakes off the vague grin, her customary animal alertness and bearing returns. She scents the air, smelling fresh bread amidst the woodsmoke. Loping after Skeeter, she presses him further on their discussion.
She shakes her head, beads rattling, “Rainca does not understand how Skeeter sees measurement and limits as the same thing.”
She pauses to bow before the gleaming and smooth polished doors of the Mortalist temple.
She barks a bitter laugh as she follows Skeeter into the bustle of the common room, “Rainca hopes she will be there when Skeeter finds the limits he does not believe exist, like the words of a song he did not know he knew.” She hums quietly as she studies the insides of the building. The feeling of the place soaks into the lean, hard-edged warrior woman.
Yes. Dey. It has been a long time. This. This is right. She swallows again and blinks, eyes bright with tears. She starts, hands fumbling about her belongings, mind reeling – Rainca has no gifts for the hearth-keepers! She looks on the verge of panic. A small bump on her belly registers – the flute on its long beaded cord – and Rainca relaxes. How silly of Rainca to forget. She stills her frantic hands, looking left and right, cheeks red, hoping no one saw her distress.
OOC: Sorry, have been slammed.
Rainca’s weight shifts from foot to foot as Andrew and Susan speak. She shakes her head looking at the ground before her feet. What has Rainca done? She is not a war-chief to lead others into battle. Or a wise one like the Bukun’e to sing the old songs. A twinge in her arm makes her wince and she reflexively reaches up, hand brushing the pale, stained hilt of a strange dagger bound to her upper arm. Quite suddenly she goes very still. She closes her eyes, nodding slightly. She opens her eyes and raises her head, unlimbering one of her javelins and holding it out before her across her open, calloused palms. She bows, holding the sleek spear out toward Andrew, Susan, Skeeter and the other nearby hoar-suns.
She speaks, her gravelly voice softened with sadness, “The hoar-suns will learn to run and sing and fight as Barav Kree under the eyes of The Laugher.”
********
Outside:
At the carved candle, Rainca stops and drops to her knees before the sign with many languages, surprise plain on her face. She bends over her knees and begins singing a wordless song in a low voice. She straightens, the pitch of her voice rising, arms stretching out from her sides. The song is deep, ancient. And though Rainca’s voice is rough and unrefined, the song’s power fills the chest with the sweet jolt of homecoming. She finishes on a low note, hunching down as she lowers her arms into her lap.
She sits quietly for a moment.
Rainca stands, wiping tears from her eyes. She soaks the end of a care-worn sash in wine and wraps the cloth around her fingertips, reverently brushing the runic symbol with the wine-damp cloth. With her fingers pressed to the symbol she murmurs, “Barav esh iy’e vo, Barav esh iy’e lo.”
She turns and finds the eyes of the various folk on her, some look puzzled, some wary, a few stricken.
She swallows, “This symbol is dey,” she pauses searching for the right word, “It means we enter a place of Hospitality.” The emphasis on the word is plain. “There is no more sacred place to the Barav Kree than the hearth another shares with all.”
Rainca did not think this would be the first thing she would share of the Barav Kree. She smiles quietly to herself… But Rainca could not have chosen a better place to start. Perhaps Rainca didn’t choose this. Her hands close over the flute hung around her neck. She shakes off the vague grin, her customary animal alertness and bearing returns. She scents the air, smelling fresh bread amidst the woodsmoke. Loping after Skeeter, she presses him further on their discussion.
She shakes her head, beads rattling, “Rainca does not understand how Skeeter sees measurement and limits as the same thing.”
She pauses to bow before the gleaming and smooth polished doors of the Mortalist temple.
She barks a bitter laugh as she follows Skeeter into the bustle of the common room, “Rainca hopes she will be there when Skeeter finds the limits he does not believe exist, like the words of a song he did not know he knew.” She hums quietly as she studies the insides of the building. The feeling of the place soaks into the lean, hard-edged warrior woman.
Yes. Dey. It has been a long time. This. This is right. She swallows again and blinks, eyes bright with tears. She starts, hands fumbling about her belongings, mind reeling – Rainca has no gifts for the hearth-keepers! She looks on the verge of panic. A small bump on her belly registers – the flute on its long beaded cord – and Rainca relaxes. How silly of Rainca to forget. She stills her frantic hands, looking left and right, cheeks red, hoping no one saw her distress.
OOC: Sorry, have been slammed.
Dexerion
First Post
Sparky said:
Quietly, Skeeter's stomach growls with hunger as he stands before the doors and takes in the smell of food eminating from within the hospice. He is obviously distracted, but still manages a reply to Rainca, Because when you measure something, you define it by a limit, but the real question is, was that limit there before you measured it, or was it fabricated by the measurement itself?"
Sparky said:
Skeeter follows Rainca's laugh with a chuckle of his own, "I am sure you will be, warrior woman. Just don't let your eyes fool you."
Standing as tall as he can in the entrence of the hospice, Skeeter bellows loudly with his deep voice, "We are the mercenary company, Hoar Sons. We come to this Mortalist shelter to seek rest and guidence. I present to you our leader, Andrew."
dpdx
Explorer
Rurik takes a 'small' drink from his 'juice' as Master Jenrald answers the questions.
Rurik whispers conspiratorially to Brother Eusebius: "Ye mean soon, right?"Br'er E. said:
Rurik is startled out of his enjoyment of 'breakfast' by the herald. Turning his attention from Master Jenrald for the moment, he studies Skeeter and the others.Skeeter said:
Kahuna Burger
First Post
Dexerion said:
Inside the Hospice (which bears much more resemblance to an inn than a temple) Skeeter's announcement is somewhat ruined by a tall dog which charges up and first play-bows then tries to jump up and kiss the young man's face. The dog is followed by a very appologetic half elven man who had been standing at a table speaking to several men in traveling clothes. "Well, greetings, greetings. Cirus get down, he isn't your long lost best friend! Terribly sorry, I am Jenrald, I'm here to help. A place to rest we will always provide, though depending on the size of your company, some may have to sleep in the loft above the stables if you wish to stay till tommorrow. As for guidence, we do what we can, certainly. Have you broken your fast yet? I can have some fresh foods laid out."
Andrew thanks him politely and introduces Skeeter, Rainca and Susan. "A loft over a stable would be a luxury to many of us, and we thank you for your hospitality. I don't want to monopolise your time, but perhaps we can talk later?"
"Certainly, sir, I'm thinking your arrival may be fortuitous. Ah Kirin," he calls over a gnomish woman who has just entered the main room. "We are visited by a mercanery company seeking rest and guidence. Perhaps you could help them get settled while I check on some supplies for you and your friends' quest? And please keep your great oaf of a mutt off of them?"
Kirin grins and gestures for the small group to come with her out to the courtyard. "Do you have many mounts, the stable could get a little crowded...."
Boddynock
First Post
"Ah, my friend, I am ready now, as, I am sure, are you. We simply wait on the others."dpdx said:
Then, looking with interest at the entry of the newcomers - noting with pleasure the upright stance of the woman with beads in her hair, and smiling quietly at the discomfort of the young man fending off Cirus' habitual attentions - he says, "Of course, we may yet have things to do here."
Dexerion
First Post
Skeeter trys to ignore the dog at first, wishing to present the group proper. Though once Jenrald grabs Andrew's attention, Skeeter neals to stroke the dogs neck and scratch him under his jaw. Skeeter loves most animals, especially mounts. When Kirin approachs Skeeters eyes widen with excitment, "Is this your mount?"
Kahuna Burger
First Post
Dexerion said:
"Such as he is," Kirin says with a mock sigh. "My uncle breeds and trains riding dogs for battle use. When I was visiting him one summer, I met this mutt who was in the process of dropping out of every possible useful trainig. For some unknown reason I liked him, and my uncle gave him to me for light riding."
As you reach the waiting Hoar Suns, Kirin says loudly, "Greetings and welcome to our home. We are honored to have you as our guests, and to provide what help we can to you. There is room n the stables and the guest quarters for you to rest, and food in the common room. Please feel free to observe or join in any of the Lessons, and let someone know if you have any special needs we can help with. We ask only that you be respectful to those who live here, the other guests and each other." While she shows Skeeter and the other horsemen to the stable, she asks "So what kind of guidence is your leader seeking here?"
Dexerion
First Post
"Absolutely fascinating. I have always been intriqued by mounts other than the traditional horse. I must say though, I don't think there is more fit an animal for riding than a horse. Especially mine, this one here," Skeeter says as he unties Mystics ropes and starts to lead her to the stables with Kirin. "Unfortunately I can't let her run about and tackle every newcommer like you dog does."
"You'll find Andrew a much better source of information than I, but... well, we are warriors that have left our homes to escape persecution and seek out a new and more rewarding lifestlye. Our guide, Susan, had heard of this hospice and suggested it as a good place to start our adventure. We know that mortalist would embrace us despite our heritage and help us find our way in a world we know little about.
Uh, that one, the one that looks different from the rest of us. She is our trainer. A fine Brava Kree warrior that fate, if you can call it that, brought to us. She has only been with us for a short time, but has already made quiet the impression.
Is this the largest mortalist temple in En?"
"You'll find Andrew a much better source of information than I, but... well, we are warriors that have left our homes to escape persecution and seek out a new and more rewarding lifestlye. Our guide, Susan, had heard of this hospice and suggested it as a good place to start our adventure. We know that mortalist would embrace us despite our heritage and help us find our way in a world we know little about.
Uh, that one, the one that looks different from the rest of us. She is our trainer. A fine Brava Kree warrior that fate, if you can call it that, brought to us. She has only been with us for a short time, but has already made quiet the impression.
Is this the largest mortalist temple in En?"
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