|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 6, 2015 19:49:12 GMT
“You can't tie yourself down to sedentary folk. Fat, lazy, weak lot they are. Go. And come back. And go again!” The words of his mentor rang out in his mind. "Funny," he thought, "that I should be so far from home but still just sitting. Sitting in a market place, waiting for someone or something to come along." This would be the last time that he folded up his "For Hire" sign.
The sun beat down on Youngdead, it was warmer in the lower altitudes but he didn't mind. The crowds here didn't seem to be very interested in the talents of a foreigner who reached nearly 8 feet tall. Nor were they especially taken by the mighty hammer he effortlessly carried about. They seemed far more interested in the local vendors' fruits, carpets and polished stones. He smiled, remembering the life before he got his title, back when he was still Thenal Thunukalathi. Reaching to his left forearm, he clasped the bracer which bore his clan's insignia. It was among the parting gifts that had been bestowed on him as he left the tribe. A pang of remorse struck him for a moment, but he knew that his decision to leave was right and just.
Reflection on the past stopped when he accidentally collided with a merchant's stand. "Pardon me." Youndead apologized, as he uprighted a couple nicknacks. The merchant didn't seem too bothered, so Youngdead carried on his way. He plodded down the city streets, a stranger in a foreign land hoping to make an honourable contribution before moving on.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 9, 2015 3:45:32 GMT
A faint, familiar odour beckons Youngdead to wander deeper into the city. A bouquet of herbs and spices ground into a dough was being baked down the street. It had been a very long time since Youngdead had such a treat. He makes the long walk much shorter with his brisk pace.
The door squeaks open, bumping some chimes. The aroma is intoxicating. Youngdead is greeted by a friendly baker who asks what goods he'd like, Youngdead simply points at the loaves cooling in the racks. "A slice for a copper, m'boy," The baker smiles. Youngdead sifts through his pockets and pulls out a pair of silver pieces, "How many for this?" He leaves the bakery with 2 and a half loaves, having eaten half of one by the time he makes it to the door. With a mouthful of nostalgia he plods through the city once more.
A sign for an upcoming tournament catches his eye. He pulls his gloves on tighter, ready for some action in this otherwise quaint city.
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 23, 2015 3:14:26 GMT
The sound of splintering wood and falling chimes can be heard from the direction of the baker's shop a few minutes after the goliath's departure. "Stop! Thief!" The unpleasant cry rises out, over the the soft sounds of an idle day at market. An incredibly short elven woman dressed in skins and leather comes tearing down the road, darting past the unusually large goliath and ripping down the street in front of him. Bushy red hair flows in her wake and just beneath her arm is tucked a fresh loaf of the spice-bread that might have been seen cooling on a rack only moments ago. With a look over her shoulder and a swear, she continues to tear out towards the outskirts of the community, making haste to disappear into the natural lands beyond.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 23, 2015 4:34:40 GMT
The blur of dust, red hair, and bread aroma rushing through the streets seemed to Youngdead as out of the ordinary as his presence in this small hamlet. He picked up his pace, hoping to keep on the heels of the supposed thief.
"Is it wrong for a starving man to steal a loaf of bread to feed his family?" One of Flintfinder's ponderings sprang to mind. Never being satisfied with a blanket yes or no answer Youngdead thought to himself, "There must be a reason, judge the reason not the action." He does his best to keep up with the speedy elf without knocking too many villagers over during his pursuit, knowing he can overtake her without much effort once a flat open space presents itself.
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 23, 2015 13:54:42 GMT
As the relatively young elf looks back, she notices as the goliath begins to take pursuit. Who wouldn't notice the equivalent of a steamroller picking up pace behind them? As she continues to head for the trees outside the town, she starts looking for ways to lose the veritable giant behind her. Ducking down as low as she can among the taller heads than hers, she continues to make hasete.
"Why does it always have to be some do-gooder after me?" Says her internal monologue. "Just for once, I'd like to get warm food without somebody trying to save the coppers of a shop-owner."
As she continues her duck and run tactics she spies a narrow alleyway and decides to break for it before the thunder-stepper behind her catches up. Darting into the alley, she comes to a dead-end.
"Shit..." The drawn out word falls from her mouth as she turns to face the only escape available to her. and incidentally the place where she's least likely to find an escape. A rumble falls from her stomach and with that she tears a hunk of the bread off and begins gobbling it down without abandon, waiting to see if her gamble paid off.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 24, 2015 1:53:04 GMT
Youngdead nearly loses sight of the scurrying elf a few times during the pursuit, but the advantage of being able to see past people's heads easily kept her in sight until she abruptly disappeared. Digging his heels into the dirt, Youngdead skid to a stop with a plume of dust. He raises his nose into the air and breathes deeply, then very rapidly as he adjusts directions. The fresh loaf's scent was easy to track. His silhouette blocks the sunlight, his voice booming with authority, "What gives you the right to take what is not yours?" He draws his hammer and holds it horizontally, blocking the escape as effectively as he can. He does not advance beyond the opening of the alleyway, so as to not threaten a potentially innocent young elf.
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 24, 2015 17:46:32 GMT
The youngling elf audibly growls and visibly bristles as the goliath blocks her escape, looking like a feral cat that's been cornered.
"My hunger gives me the right. Coupled with the shop-owner's inability to amply protect his wares. By my reconning, that makes this my bread. What gives you the right to hunt me. You are not of the guard."
Torniel bites off another hunk of the spice bread as a show of defiance.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 24, 2015 18:52:47 GMT
"So you are just a petty thief," Youngdead nods, disappointed after having wished for a more convincing story. "I claim no rights which are not mine by birth, which is why you are standing free and not confined in shackles." He takes another step in, fortifying his position at the entrance of the alleyway. "If you pay what is owed, then I'll be sure to give the guards behind me a description befitting a rapscallion. If not," he exaggerates his shrug, then begins to wave giving a quick whistle to prove his point. "Your choice."
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 25, 2015 5:34:15 GMT
The youngling elf grimaces at the idea of parting with payment. The mere idea of representative currency giving her a headache. Even if payment were an option, she would not be able to part with any currency for her food. With a look of disgust on her face, she tenses, sensing that confrontation may not be far behind.
"Let me pass, I have no quarrel with you. I have no payment to give to these leeches in any case."
With those words she spits on the ground and lifts the loaf up high.
"Take what is left and I will not bother this township again. I have no need to be seen in these parts again for some time and it will cost you nothing to let me go in peace. I have nothing else to give..."
A tone of sincerity and sternness enters her voice as she raises the loaf up to the gigantic humanoid in front of her. She grinds her teeth silently within her mouth, hoping to avoid taking a blow from the hammer that the giant grips in his hands.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 25, 2015 17:15:23 GMT
With the change in tone from the young elf, Youngdead begins to change his approach. Still holding the hammer in one hand as to block the path, he reaches out and takes the loaf being offered. "What you've eaten will need to be paid to the baker, and you will work to earn that." He says with authority. "I will hire you for the silver you'll cost me paying for this and apologizing for your behaviour." Tossing and catching the loaf in one hand, he continues, "I'll keep this as future payment for loyal work, and perhaps you'll earn some actual coin of your own. Do you understand?" He looks sternly at the elf, "Do you accept my offer?"
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 25, 2015 18:04:36 GMT
Torniel glares daggers at the overgrown behemoth in front of her. With little chance of escape and an utter disinterest in attracting more attention to herself, she growls in frustration.
"Let it be made clear: I am not your pet. I will not fall on your every word. I will do as I please, and if you have work for me to do, I will do it without complaint, as long as I do it in the manner of my choosing."
The look of contempt written across the youngling elf's face is so bold and burning that there can be no doubt about her feelings.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 25, 2015 19:32:31 GMT
"I'm not looking for a pet." Youngdead responds with a laugh, "Neither are you a slave. You are under my employ." He puts the loaf into his rucksack as he speaks, "Which means that should you fail to act in an appropriate way you will be subject to my discipline." His grip on his weapon tightens as he speaks the word 'discipline', but he releases it and lets the handle fall to the ground. He holds the hammer upright, like a person planting a flag in the ground. "Your first task will be to accompany me to the bakery and wait outside while I speak with the owner." He looks for a reaction from the elf before adding, "The authorities will not be involved, you have my word. And so long as you behave yourself, no harm will come to you either."
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 25, 2015 20:46:18 GMT
Torniel growls and visibly bristles as the goliath suggests that she should return to the scene of the crime. But as he mentions that the authorities will not be involved, she lowers her glare and looks towards the dirt, visibly slumping as though exhausted.
"As you wish it then," she says with a tone of contempt. "But if I see one constable, I'm gone. No questions answered. I'll return to you when there isn't a member of authority in sight."
The elven woman rolls a her left shoulder, griping it tightly with her right hand as if squeezing stress from it.
"That is not negotiable," she says softly as she trades focus to the opposite shoulder, rotating it and squeezing gently.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 26, 2015 4:27:34 GMT
"That's acceptable. If you leave, I expect to see you before the next bell chime. If I have to track you down once more I will be hobbling you so as to not have to go through this again." Youngdead says in a very manner of fact tone. He turns his body to allow the elf passage to the streets once more. "After you."
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 26, 2015 4:46:30 GMT
The elf grimaces again but proceeds ahead of the goliath, head held high, nose in the air as if the great man weren't actually twice her own size.
"I make no promises about the next chime. If there is a member of the guard, or a constable in sight, I will not be. And if you intend to hobble me, I suggest you do it now while you still have the chance, because the first swing you take at me will make me no longer be such a friendly sight."
A tone of absolute finality enters her voice with this statement, and she half glares over her shoulder at the gigantic man before turning back to face front and continues back to the bread-baker's establishment.
"What shall I call you, Master Giant?"
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 26, 2015 14:20:29 GMT
"You'd be a damned fool to get hobbled over a silver." Youngdead offers a warm smile, "And truth be told I'd rather not have to." He extends his massive hand to the young elf, "No need for such formalities, call me Young. And what is your name little lady?"
Youngdead takes her back to the bakery, but stops a few buildings away to ensure that the town guards were not still meddling about. The coast seemed clear, "I don't spot any guards. This should only take a minute." With that he leaves Torniel and heads into the bakery.
"And a fine morning to you again my friend! No, no, I'm not back for more just yet." A muffled voice, too low to be understood speaks, to which Youngdead responds, "That miscreant is a misguided elf. Customs are diff..." He's interrupted by the muffled voice, "No no, no need to get them involved in this." More protest from the baker before Youngdead cuts in, "Here my friend. You have earned your fair share for the two loaves." Though unseen and unheard the baker was obviously confused, "I have no stake in this beyond recognizing talent, especially in such exquisite breads." Another brief exchange from with the baker wishing him a fine day and promising to return when the tarts are done and Youngdead comes back to the street, stooping to fit out the door properly. He scans the area where he left Torniel waiting.
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 27, 2015 3:00:18 GMT
Torniel grimaces, taking the offered hand, and squeezing it lightly, at least to the best of her ability. As it turns out, when you trade grips with someone twice your size, you can't squeeze their whole hand, only about the first two fingers.
"You may call me Nell. And being hobbled for a silver is the least of my worries. 'Civilized people' are rarely so kind."
Torniel says with a sense of disdain. As they approach the breadmaker, Torniel halts, well out of sight of the front windows of the baker.
"I will be here when you return. Quit your worrying."
The youngling elf stands with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall of another small shop as Young makes his conversation with the breadmaker. True to her word, there she remains, arms still crossed, grimace still on her face, when Young retires from the shop.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 27, 2015 3:09:40 GMT
"Nell," Youngdead calls out, but he finds her with ease. The relief is evident as he approaches her. With the baker situation resolved he had no need to keep the elf within city limits, "How about the two of us head out to scrounge up some food?" Youngdead cracks his knuckles. "Lets see if you can keep up out in the wilderness." He makes his way towards the edge of town where a thick forest is only a brief hike out.
|
|
|
Post by Torniel on Feb 27, 2015 3:25:12 GMT
Torniel grins at the challenge as they tread for the outskirts of town. Though the enormous man's strides easily double her own, she keeps pace with him at no cost to her stamina.
"I wouldn't worry about me. I'm just worried that you won't be able to keep up, Tiny. When's the last time you killed your own meal?"
Torniel looks about and heads for the treeline as soon as they exit the hamlet, picking up speed, but keeping pace slow enough for the goliath to keep pace.
|
|
|
Post by kreamatizer on Feb 27, 2015 4:00:08 GMT
A hearty laugh erupts from Youngdead at the name Tiny, "On my journey here, little one. How about you earn your keep, rustle up something to eat while I build a fire here." Youngdead turns to set about gathering wood and building a stand for the iron pot at the bottom of his bag. He pays no attention to Torniel, knowing she has been true to her word so far.
By the time that Torniel returns Youngdead has quickly strung a tarp between two trees to provide some shelter. The fire is stoked and ready, Youngdead sits by it idly carving a stick to a sharp point.
|
|