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<blockquote data-quote="MacConnell" data-source="post: 8608278" data-attributes="member: 6855223"><p>Antapkos and Cormorant walked along the ways within the Artisan District for a short time, but this afforded little in the manner of information or interest. Happening upon the Eastern Portal that opens the city to the desert beyond and the staging area for the Artisan Caravan, before encountering the Javelineer Barracks. They nodded at the two swordsmen standing guard and walked through like they knew what they were doing. The two guards simply nodded back and did not bother with any questions or dialogue. The two mud grubbers were now wearing the uniforms and carrying the weapons of javelineers, and they looked the part.</p><p></p><p>The staging area for the caravan was overtly obvious, with its pinned animals and other people milling about. Having been seen in their approach, another javelineer waved at them then yelled to cover the distance and override the noise of the children playing in the burro pin. He gestured and pointed. "<span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">You must be the new help. Better check in at the office, first</span>."</p><p></p><p>There was only one structure outside of the wall, which had to be the caravan office. The Caravan Coordinator was an Amiradthan man who looked to be about 30 Cycles in age. He had a habit of twitching his upper lip that gave him a more feral look to accompany his feral attitude. He stood behind a writing table made from a slab of faux stone mounted on clay brick feet. The room was not well lit in the evening, due to its location, but there were oil lamps to compensate.</p><p></p><p>The Coordinator, a glorified clerk who was likely awarded the station for fortune of birth, was poring over some papers strewn about the table. He kept baring his teeth and making noises at them. All clerks were, of course, taught to read, but it did not make them good at writing, and needing to read one's own writing could often prove frustrating. In addition to the hallmarks of pottery and construction materials, the Artisan District also made paper, a dense, yet functional, material for the collection of scribed data. The man looked up from his reading. "<span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">What</span>!?"</p><p></p><p>It was too loud for the confined space. The Bird Brothers both reflexively flinched before stating their business.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">Oh right, the Bird Brothers. Ha</span>!" He shuffled the papers on the table, tapping on one.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">Antapkos and Cormorante. Can you recognize your own names? Yes, I thought not. Here</span>!" He tapped on the paper, repeating each name in indication of its print. His general manner of speaking was confrontational and loud.</p><p></p><p>"<span style="color: rgb(147, 101, 184)">It is nigh time two more javelineers were sent to me! Anyway, the caravan will now leave at first light. You drink too much, you walk with a headache! You are paid at each way-station. You will put a mark by your name on the ledger I give to Vyerbluth each time you are paid. Keep the mark simple so you can make the same one each time! Go! Get laid. Drink. Gamble. Whatever it is that your kind do. Be ready to leave at first light</span>." He waved his hand dismissively.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="MacConnell, post: 8608278, member: 6855223"] Antapkos and Cormorant walked along the ways within the Artisan District for a short time, but this afforded little in the manner of information or interest. Happening upon the Eastern Portal that opens the city to the desert beyond and the staging area for the Artisan Caravan, before encountering the Javelineer Barracks. They nodded at the two swordsmen standing guard and walked through like they knew what they were doing. The two guards simply nodded back and did not bother with any questions or dialogue. The two mud grubbers were now wearing the uniforms and carrying the weapons of javelineers, and they looked the part. The staging area for the caravan was overtly obvious, with its pinned animals and other people milling about. Having been seen in their approach, another javelineer waved at them then yelled to cover the distance and override the noise of the children playing in the burro pin. He gestured and pointed. "[COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]You must be the new help. Better check in at the office, first[/COLOR]." There was only one structure outside of the wall, which had to be the caravan office. The Caravan Coordinator was an Amiradthan man who looked to be about 30 Cycles in age. He had a habit of twitching his upper lip that gave him a more feral look to accompany his feral attitude. He stood behind a writing table made from a slab of faux stone mounted on clay brick feet. The room was not well lit in the evening, due to its location, but there were oil lamps to compensate. The Coordinator, a glorified clerk who was likely awarded the station for fortune of birth, was poring over some papers strewn about the table. He kept baring his teeth and making noises at them. All clerks were, of course, taught to read, but it did not make them good at writing, and needing to read one's own writing could often prove frustrating. In addition to the hallmarks of pottery and construction materials, the Artisan District also made paper, a dense, yet functional, material for the collection of scribed data. The man looked up from his reading. "[COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]What[/COLOR]!?" It was too loud for the confined space. The Bird Brothers both reflexively flinched before stating their business. "[COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]Oh right, the Bird Brothers. Ha[/COLOR]!" He shuffled the papers on the table, tapping on one. "[COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]Antapkos and Cormorante. Can you recognize your own names? Yes, I thought not. Here[/COLOR]!" He tapped on the paper, repeating each name in indication of its print. His general manner of speaking was confrontational and loud. "[COLOR=rgb(147, 101, 184)]It is nigh time two more javelineers were sent to me! Anyway, the caravan will now leave at first light. You drink too much, you walk with a headache! You are paid at each way-station. You will put a mark by your name on the ledger I give to Vyerbluth each time you are paid. Keep the mark simple so you can make the same one each time! Go! Get laid. Drink. Gamble. Whatever it is that your kind do. Be ready to leave at first light[/COLOR]." He waved his hand dismissively. [/QUOTE]
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