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Most distinguished visitors?

Tags: Caoimhe,  Brev,  Brunni,  Scampre,  Isobel

Short Summary: Brev's pretty young wife Caoimhe acts the hostess to two very different callers.
Date (real-life): 2011-06-09
Scene Location: Esgaroth: Fisher's Wharf
Date (in-game): February 3053
Time of Day: Morning?
Fisher's Wharf
This area is noticeably seedier than the walk above, and on most days smells quite strongly of fish. From here, the daily horde of fishing vessels make their way out onto Long Lake. Indeed, most fisherfolk live near or even on the Wharf itself, housed in small dwellings built under the boards of Esgaroth proper. There are still the ever-present warehouses, but most are obviously boarded up and ill kept. Those that remain house small shops geared toward the fishing-trade, or are fish-shops themselves, run by the families of those who capture the bounty of the Lake to earn their silver. There are many shady characters hanging about, in the nooks and crannies of the old wharf. At the end of the wharf shines a single red light, and because of it, you can make out the weatherbeaten sign of an Inn.

Obvious exits:
 South leads to Center of Firespark Lane.
 Dark Alley leads to Northern Underdecks.
 Battered Door leads to The Fishtale Inn.

=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Thu Jun 09 14:21:44 2011 MST

Dale-Lands Time:
Sterday, late morning on a clear winter's day, February 19 of 3053
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=

[Caoimhe(#31517)] It's just past midday, and outside, the streets are mostly vacant and covered in a most unpleasant downpouring of sleet and rain. Inside, away from the gloom, Brev and Caoimhe's temporary house in Laketown is bustling with the strangest activity. Two guests await Brev's arrival home in a small parlor filled with overstuffed, moldy furniture- a room that the couple generally never utilizes. Caoimhe, insisting that this room is the finest for entertaining guests, has led both Isobel Taurdain and a man called Scampre to take a seat in here. She's just taken a seat in an armchair, presiding over this odd gathering with a prideful, and annoyed, air.

The soft snick of a key in the lock and the creak of wet wood herald Brev's return; that and a soft muttering in Dunael that is probably a curse on the foul weather. There is a brief pause whilst he hangs up his sodden cloak, and then the man's singsong, somewhat accented Common rings out: "How's it been going today, Wildcat? Sorry I'm late, that damn wood finally ar-" The speech breaks off then begins anew, this time somewhat puzzled. "What in Kiern's name are you doing in there? Smells like someone's died."

"Well now," begins Scampre, seemingly about to answer Caoimhe's question, when the noisy arrival of her husband interrupts him. Lazily leaning against a wall, grinning form ear to ear, he looks to Brev's arrival with anticipation. "I reckon yer about to find out, Mrs Brev..."

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "Afternoon, love," Caoimhe calls back, rising immediately from her seat at the sound of Brev's voice calling out to her. There's cheer and warmth in her voice now that certainly wasn't there before. "I'm entertaining guests! They're both here to see you!" All this is shouted as she waits for Brev to draw nearer to the parlor. "I had them sit in here, in our nicest room for such visiting dignitaries..." She gives a curious glance to Scampre, and frowns slightly, but doesn't say anything more.

"Huh?" comes back the startled response. "Didn't know I was /that/ popular ... give me a moment, eh?" He adds a swift phrase in Dunael, then falls silent. When he eventually appears in the doorway, dark curls flattened to his head by the rain, he blinks in clear surprise. "Oh," is the flat response. Then, one side of his mouth curling up, "Welcome to my humble abode, Master Scampre. Might be wisest to remember my wife has her own name, though. She has quite the temper ..."
Brev had murmured: "<Dunael>Got the knives? Just in case they mean trouble ..."

"Oh, well, I would dearly love to be less rude, Mr Brev, though I haven't yet been fully introduced. Care to do the honours?" Scampre grins then, and folds his arms across his chest as he continues to lean against the wall.

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "<Dunael> Of course, dear heart- do I ever disappoint?" Caoimhe mutters cheerfully in her native tongue. Once again speaking calmly and clearly in the common tongue, Caoimhe gives another glance towards Scampre and the lady and adds, "But do hurry. I fear they are getting bored of me already!"

Brev lets his gaze shift past Scampre to the parlour's other occupant, then back to the rogue. Frowning, he says pointedly, "It's Brunni round here, remember. Figured a local name would bring in more trade. And this is Caoimhe." The exotic name trips easily off his tongue. "If you can't manage that, you could try - what, Kay?" He arcs a brow toward the woman they're discussing, then steps past the waiting rogue and slips an arm round his wife's waist, leaning in so that he's dripping water onto her shoulder. "<Dunael>Never," he murmurs, then says louder, a quirk at ths side of his mouth. "Bored? I assure you, you're most entertaining."

[Isobel(#23796)] As the man of the house deigns to grace it with his presence, Isobel rises, glancing briefly at Caoimhe when she speaks in that incomprehensible tongue. "Good afternoon, master.. Brunni," she says slowly and one can tell how the name is now accompanied by curiousity. "Your wife most kindly invited me in out of the rain, and accepted my offer to buy you both a drink sometime, as thanks." She grins, suddenly, and adds: "In the Flagon, mind you."

"Beats me why you'd wanna go there," muses Scampre aloud, smacking his lips at the mention of a drink. "After all, we're mfar more comfortable at the Fishtale, aren't we, /Mr Brunni/?."

[Caoimhe(#31517)] Caoimhe finds herself grinning as Brev attempts to shorten her name. "How hard is Kee-va to say, anyways?" the girl asks, drawing it out plainly for the visitors to hear again. She leans in comfortably against her husband, and slides her arm around his waist as well. "How am I to entertain them, anyways?" she asks Brev, "Serve them pleasant tea in tiny cups that they might break? Feed them biscuits? Dance?" She wrinkles her nose at that last. "No one seems to want to state their business with you. I can't even threaten them if I don't know what their business is," Caoimhe whispers to her husband in a complaint, although her voice is still loud enough to be heard by all.

Caoimhe turns her head back towards Isobel suddenly. "What is it you fancy ladies do for fun around these parts, anyway? I'm fairly certain I'm a girl," she says, looking down at her own chest and then back up, "But whatever the fun is, I haven't found it. Fishing?" she guesses. "Tea parties?"

Brev doesn't offer any explanation for his dual name (if indeed he only has two. Might he have collected a few more along the way?). He simply arcs one brow up and replies to Isobel, "Good day, Lady Taurdain." Why, he's almost ... polite!

He chuckles softly at Scampre's remark. "Speak for yourself. Fishtale's nearer ... but I'm quite comfortable here, come to that."

At Caoimhe's words, by contrast, he snorts. "Tea in tiny cups? This is hardly Bree. If they're in our house, they can put up with our fare. There's a new cheese on the table and bread in the cupboard, and if we're out of ale you can pop over to the Fishtale for their best." A grin begins to form at the side of his mouth at that suggestion. "Come to that, is there any of that smoked fish left? The stuff we couldn't stand?" There's a definite glint to his eye.

Returning his attention to Isobel, Brev queries bluntly, "So. To what do we owe the pleasure? Needing some carpentry done? Or is it someone with holes in you'd like me to patch up?" He carefully doesn't ask Scampre /his/ business.

[Isobel(#23796)] "It might be so, mister Scampre, but for some reason I prefer the bar where I don't have to worry about catching more than one or two diseases at a time." Isobel replies somewhat archly. Caoimhe's words silence her, however. At length, she reluctantly speaks again though she darts slightly apprehensive looks towards the two men as she does.

"Well, we play board games. Ah.. gambling, as well.. I'm sorry," she says apologetically, "I suspect I don't have all that much fun. I mostly spend my time studying or, well, running around being nosy."

"Cor," blinks Scampre, blinking to either side at Isobel's words. "Was that Lord Roskar I heard talking? Oh, no, couldn't have been. He never sets foot where the diseased poor folk live; must've just imagined it."

"It's a pleasure to meet yer, Caoimhe," he says then to Brev's wife, having only a little difficulty with the pronunciation. "You have a lovely home, as I said before, but for my part at least, you don't have to worry about no tea-cups. I'm rarely welcome anywhere long enough to have ever gotten used to them. No, I just dropped by to give yer husband something he asked me for."

[Caoimhe(#31517)] "Charmed, I'm sure," Caoimhe says to Scampre, unable to help a slight grin. She looks to Isobel then, and tells her, "None of those things sound exactly fun, Lady. But if you'd like some real fun, you can certainly stop by later. I can think of plenty of fun activities," she says with a mischievous gleam in her eye. She then gives her husband a quick kiss. "I'm going to go see about that smoked fish!" she says. "It might take awhile, though- I believe I tossed it out back just this morning for the birds..." Cackling merrily to herself, she hurries off down the hallway and out of the musty-smelling parlor.

Brev listens to the women's conversation with a faint perplexed crease between his brows - though as Caoimhe continues, that changes to alarm. "Uh .. keep it gentle, eh?" he pleads with her in a murmur. "The Taurdain are nobles, landholders. Don't want to find one of us up for assault." He cannot help but grin at his wife's parting words, and watches her go for a moment before returning his attention to those unexpected guests.

"Information," Brev states quietly to Scampre. "As exchange for the knife. That was the bargain."

To Isobel he reiterates, "And /was/ there anything particular you were wanting, Lady Taurdain? Don't recall striking a bargain with you."

Only then does he recall the mouldering furniture. "Do sit down, if you can bear it," he offers magnanimously. "I'm a bit wet still, best I don't."

[Isobel(#23796)] Isobel's eyes narrow with anger but surprisingly, she looks away quietly. Eventually, after a couple of deep breaths, she ventures this to Scampre: "My apologies if I offended, I spoke mostly in jest though it was, perhaps, ill-advised. But to be compared with lord Roskar - too, too cruel!" And perhaps too close to home, for such a strong reaction to occur?

 Looking both confused and apprehensive she nods acceptance of the younger woman's invitation, as if not quite sure what she's doing. Isobel shakes her head dazedly. "No, thank you, master Brunni; I've already tried the furniture and it was fine, but I'm afraid I must be moving on." She shrugs, grinning. "Like I said - I'm nosy. I wanted only to speak with your lovely lady wife a little."

Scampre regards Isobel for a long while as she speaks to Brev, ere he nods after her words. "Aye, perhaps so, but certain jests tend to get old when you've heard 'e, all yer life, Lady Taurdain. Some of us don't need rmeinding how poor we are. But it's alright; I know you was only teasing."

He sniffs then, looking in Caoimhe's wake, ere he says to Brev: "Want me to hit the street also, or have you got an open ear for that hing you asked about?"

Brev watches Isobel warily, but at her final words he relaxes a little. "She /is/ lovely," he agrees, the corners of his mouth curling up unbidden. "Suppose she doesn't get to meet many other women, living round here. Wouldn't hurt for someone to help her settle in a little ... if you're offering." He lets the end of that sentence rise in question.

To Scampre he quirks a brow. "My ears are always open. And aye, if you have anything on the matter of ..." he hesitates thoughtfully, then supplies, "that herb trade I mentioned ..."

[Isobel(#23796)] "I'm sure your wife and I will have.. fun. Er.. Well, gentlemen," Isobel says and considers them both with a quite unreadable gaze, "I will take my leave. And I shall think on what you have said, mister," she adds quietly to Scampre. Quiet steps carry her out into the rain, and the door closes gently after her.

With Isobel departed, Scampre sucks his gums idly and grins to Brev ere he dips his head in a nod. "Aye, I've heard a thing or two since last we spoke, and I'll tell you... something looks fishy. So to speak. Do you remember there was a chap in town selling herbs? Trying to broker a deal with young Elodie for supplying the Infirmary. Gah.. I'm getting old, or else I'd remember his name..."

Brev watches after Isobel, rather doubtfully. "Wonder what she's going to do?" he quips. "Set up /another/ infirmary? It's hard enough work minding the one. Why in Kiern's name did Elodie leave it to a pack of women?"

Without waiting for an answer, he returns to the other topic. "Fishy, you say? And there I was thinking it was a herb I was after that caused delusions, fits and then death ... You telling me I should just dredge the Lake?" He flashes the rogue a sarcastic smile, then frowns. "No, I don't remember. Didn't offer them to me." A scowl, then he admits wryly, "Truth be told, folk like me don't use herbs much. Flag-root, hemlock, strong spirits ... Maegwin might have his name. So - about this herb-seller?"

"Well," continues the other, they say he's the same one that Lord Raynar and Leofric encountered on their way southwards to hunt them wargs; said he'd been coming up from the southlands as part of his regular yearly route. Well, I heard a birdie frmo Iach Celduin tell me he stops in at the Ox and Fiddle every year, and this year he was splahing the coins out like no-one's business. Had a big pay-day, or something, he was telling everyone."

The rogue sniffs. "Well, turns out that just around the same time, though a little bit before it, some lads from the Merchants Guild had passed through, looking for someone with knowledge of herblore. They moved on away towards Finney, I'm told, which is were this herb seller arrived in town from later on..."

Brev listens, frowning. How much of Scampre's 'hearsay' he'd already guessed at is hard to say. From the way he's squinting at the mention of the various placenames, it's easy to see that he still has trouble picturing them on the map. "Good," he says after a while. "So - this herb-seller, where is he now? And what happened to the lads from the Merchants Guilds? I trust they weren't strung up by their ankles by these Easterners folk fear so much?"

"Well now," grins the other. "That's the big question, isn't it? Who knows just what's been going on down there. But I'll tell you what else, Brev, since I'm in yer home and we're sharing so many friendly details about one another, there's something fishy about another deal down south with the Guild. Seems they bought some horses from the Easterlings, and sold em on to the Farriers' Guild. Now, that ain't nothing suspicious; goes no al the time. They usually make a tidy profit too."

He squints. "Though, and I only found this out because apparently it's something that Lord Baltil chap learned from a ship-hand, in this latest sale, they didn't make a copper penny on the deal. Lost a bit, in fact, which is unheard of."

The rogue unfolds his arms then, andmeets Brev squaerly in the eye. "Now you tell me, mate: what could that mean, if they also made a hefty purchase of herbs not long after?"

Brev meets Scampre's gaze with his own, coolly arching one brow. "What, it's not enough that you get a knife out of this, you expect more information too? Whose deal is this anyway? Since we're being friends," he leans heavy on that last word, "you might as well tell me who the knife's for, and where he's expected to stick it." He doesn't bother trying to keep the sarcasm out of that last. "Like to know where my next patient's coming from."

After a pause, however, he relents with a shrug. "It means that I'm not the only person employed to lay false trails. Someone's gone to a fair bit of work to disrupt land travel and arrange for a handy source of blame. No doubt others will tie themselves in knots over the why; I'm merely concerned over the 'how'. So does our 'friendly exchange of information' extent to telling me where can I get hold of this herb-seller and his wares?" He leans forward, his own arms dropping to his sides.

"If I knew, I'd already have been all over him," winks Scampre. "But no. Seems he left town a while back, as he planned to; first to head to Dale and then up to Celebannon. After that, no idea. But if I hear anything else, I'll let you know."

He sniffs then, and looks to Brev squarely once more. "I prefer to keep some details to meself, Mr Brunni, and the knife is one of 'em. Cheers for getting it, though. It worked out perfect."

Brev shakes his head irritably. "Celebannon - that's that Elf place, isn't it? Edge of the Mirkwood. Fine, likely some warg ate him up before that hunter they feted finished him off. Figures." He's clearly displeased by that thought. "But if what he sold came from the river and not the far distant east, well ... reckon I have an idea as to what it might have been." He leaves the subject at that.

"And as long as that knife stays away from myself, Caoimhe and Gidon, consider yourself welcome." At the mention of his pretty young wife he frowns. "Where is the girl? Hope she's not off leading the Taurdain woman into trouble. Maybe we should just adjourn to the Fishtale? Who knows, I might even buy the first drink." He smirks briefly, and gestures for Scampre to precede him.

Date added: 2011-06-14 05:24:35    Hits: 52
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