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Scribe by appointment

Tags: Brev,  Brunni,  Isobel

Short Summary: Master Brunni visits Lady Isobel Taurdain and seems to think she should run his errands ...
Date (real-life): 2011-06-12
Scene Location: Esgaroth: Taurdain Suites
Date (in-game): February 3053
Time of Day: Evening
Entry Hall of the Taurdain Suites

 This villa is filled with various examples of natural beauty which give testimony to the Taurdain's bond with the Elves of Mirkwood. The high ceiling of the entry hall gives a feeling of expanse, although the suites are generally modestly furbished. Potted plants bring a warmth to the space, and a vine covered fountain near the entrance gurgles quietly. A bench of elven craft offers comfort to visitors, crouching steadfastly opposite a grand staircase that curves up to the second level, and the quarters of the members of the Household.

 A hall leading off behind the stairs leads to the kitchen, with an open double doorway granting access to the formal dining room. To the east of the staircase are two doorways; one opening into a warmly appointed sitting room where guests are usually received. The other leads to the house's library. Across the hall, to the west of the staircase, two more rooms; a closed door leading to Lord Taurdain's quarters, the room next to it reserved to guests of the House.

Obvious exits:

=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Real Time: Sun Jun 12 16:39:48 2011 MST

Dale-Lands Time:
Monday, mid afternoon on a cloudy winter's day, February 28 of 3053
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service =-=-=-=

The short winter day has come to an end, and the many lamps of the Taurdain Suites gleam in the gathering dusk like so many jewels. Nobles and retainers of the house go about their business as usual, but there is one more obstacle to skirt around: the carpenter fellow going by the name of Brunni Marjasson has come in asking for a word with 'Lady Ishbel Taurdain'. He sits on a bench, long legs stretched out - and by the looks of it he hasn't had the decency to change out of his working gear, for both his leather jerkin and the bench are now sprinkled with sawdust.

[Isobel(#23796)] At length that very lady comes strolling out of a door to the right of the staircase, humming softly under her breath. Isobel's yellow hair is tied into a simple braid which is slowly coming undone and her movements are rather indolent, like those of a cat just woken up from a nap.

The sight of Brev does bring a smile to her face. "Master Brunni, what a pleasant surprise!" she says, not without a degree of delight, and moves to stand in front of him. Perhaps she enjoys being able to look down on someone, for once. "I'm sorry if you waited long. How fare you? And your wife?"

Alas, Isobel's height advantage doesn't last long. Brev pushes himself to his feet and lets one side of his mouth pull back in a smile, one brow arcing briefly at the sight of that near-loosed braid. "Pleasant? Are you sure?" he quips. "I've been called many things in my time, and that's not usually one of them. And Caoimhe's fine. Lass never seems to keep still, she's like a hound straining to be let off the leash." He chuckles softly, then grows solemn. "Didn't mean to pull you away from - ah, other things." Another glance at the untidy braid. "Won't keep you long, just a couple of things I wanted to raise with someone. Afraid yours is the only name I know."

[Isobel(#23796)] Isobel pouts briefly as Brev rises and gives him a look as if to ask, 'was that really necessary?'. "Mostly sure," she says, by way of a reply, with a grin and a shrug. "And tell your wife I'll stop by in a day or so for that.. fun, she promised."

She cocks her head to the side as he continues, nodding to show he should go on.

That grin of earlier is back on Brev's face at Isobel's response. "She'll be delighted. Just ... make sure /she/ takes the blame, eh? Wretched girl thinks she's invincible, doesn't always remember the rest of us aren't."

The amusement fades, replaced by a hastily swallowed yawn. "Where was I at? Uh, yes. Taurdain business. First of all, I was wanting to check on that woodturner fellow in the craft hall, the one the Arathmor threatened a week or two back. There's not been trouble? Didn't see him when I looked in ..." A pause, and then he admits with chagrin, "I might have been a bit late stopping by. Kiern knows work's not been lacking recently." One hand lifts to rub wearily at his face.

[Isobel(#23796)] "Well, that's great, isn't it?" Isobel leaps at the last words, smiling earnestly. "Although I understand it must be tiring, I suppose it's best to remember that it may soon dry up to a trickle again before it swells anew." A pause, and then the smile changes to a rueful one. "You probably don't need me telling that; I'm guessing you're more familiar with the nature of work than I am. This woodturner you speak of.. would this be about the incident in the Crafts Guild? I heard some rumour about it, but I don't quite recall now.."

Isobel purses her mouth thoughtfully. "But if you feel he should be checked on, I will pass it on to lady Corawyn swiftly. She's a senior in the guild, you know."

Brev grunts at those first words. "Aye," and he pulls a sour face. "I've faced as much famine as plenty - rather Caoimhe didn't have to." He nods to the question, and clarifies, "Seems he owed the Arathmor some unpaid debt. The black fellow collecting it made quite a scene - in the end Master Rhemlyn stepped in and the Arathmor man slunk away with his tale between his legs." A pause for breath. "Don't suppose he liked that, I was worried there'd be reprisals. Might be good for this Lady Corawyn to keep an eye on him, never mind finding out what sort of debt it was in the first place. He didn't want anyone to know - that smells like a dead fish to me. Oh, and get her to tell him there's a spot of work might come his way. Fellow who's shop I'm refitting wants fancy combings on all the shelves - and between other jobs and the damn infirmary I'm getting behind." He pauses for breath.

"And the other thing was this supposed horse-sickness. Remember I'd mentioned it didn't sound like sickness to me? Reckoned it might be Easterlings?" A leading pause then he adds, musingly, "It would've been such a neat way to cripple an enemy."

[Isobel(#23796)] Isobel nods every now and then, but mostly just waits out the tide of information. "Right," she mutters, ticking matters off on her fingers. "Okay, I think I remember those now. Why, master Brunni, think you that I am your scribe, here to take your messages?" The smile and following laugh is light, to show she jests.

"Now, as for the sickness.. things have become awfully quiet about that. I do remember what you said - what say you now?"

Brev's lips twitch briefly. "Could do with one of those," he agrees amiably. "Are you volunteering? Somehow, I doubt I could afford the fees.

His features take on a grimmer cast as he returns to the main topic. "Sickness it's not." He snorts. "Said it was a herb, and I fancy I can put an identity to it, if not a name in your tongue. I asked around, and eventually got a bit of information back. Seems a herb-seller came up from Finney flush with profit and boasting of the profit he'd just turned. Straight before that, a gaggle of merchants had passed southward asking after a man with herblore, there's little doubt they'd done some deal. Which," he shrugs, "doesn't prove it was /that/ deal. Still trying to chase down the herb-seller himself, there's been not a sight nor sniff of him for weeks." He swipes the back of his hand across his forehead, leaving a cleaner streak amidst the dust, then goes on. "Thing is, fellow I was speaking to had a tale about another merchant deal. He said some of the Merchant's Guild had bought horses from the Easterlings and sold them on to Dale's stables at a loss. Horses that then got 'sick' ..." Brev's lip curls.

"So ... didn't know what to do, then", the foreigner admits. "Other than keeping my head down. I'd have brought the matter to the Girion lord if he were here, but he's off fighting some war."

[Isobel(#23796)] "Better if I don't. Your wife has already threatened me once because she thought you were availing yourself of my 'services'. I shudder to think of what would happen should you actually hire me." Isobel winks and then listens with a growing horror plain on her face.

"Despicable..!" she whispers quietly, but with a passion. Any sign of languidness is all washed away, hands curled into fists. "This is beyond unacceptable - what could they be thinking?! And we all know that behind the Merchant's Guild we will find - /Arathmors/! Proof, and clarity, is what we need now!"

"Huh?" Brev's brows arc up at those first words, and for a moment a puzzled frown creases his brows until his thoughts return to other matters. "Proof's hard to come by. Even if some fellow were to confess, men'll say anything if you hurt them hard enough. Never understood why folk set so much store by forced questioning." He shakes his head. "Might there be something in those reams of parchment merchants here seem to use? Nary a trade done but they're scribbling and scratching ..." Thus speaks the illiterate.

A moment later he shrugs. "I'll keep asking round for the herb-seller, easy enough to say the Infirmary's run low. As to the rest ..." He squints. "I'm no landholder in these parts. Not my battleground."

That cryptic comment made, he looks to Isobel again. "I ought to be getting back. Caoimhe'll be preparing the carving knives, and I'm down at the infirmary this evening. Can I go?"

[Isobel(#23796)] Isobel appears to be simmering with a quiet rage, bubbling beneath the surface and expressed mostly through the creased brow and the flashing of anger in her eyes. "I need to think. I'm sorry to say I'm not capable of better answers at the moment, but I'm not quick enough of thought. Besides, one shouldn't rush into things. You keep asking for that herb-seller.. Once I've finished thinking, I'll surely let you know what course I shall take."

Mulling this over a moment longer, she lets a surprised laugh slip as Brev goes on. "Last time I checked, master Brunni, you were not a slave or serf or even a servant of Taurdain house." The laugh returns again, low and amused. "Besides, I have a feeling that should I attempt to assert some sort of authority over you and say no, you would simply go anyway. So if you have nothing more to say at the moment then neither have I, and you can go."

Brev simply stands and listens at Isobel starts to speak, but at the laugh one brow quirks up. Then, almost unwillingly, one corner of his mouth begins to twitch. By the time she's done, the twitching has become a smirk. "True," he agrees. "I'm sure if I had to I could come up with some sort of creative exit. Anyway," he pauses, jerks his head in a nod, "Good even to you, Lady Taurdain." Turning on his heel - and narrowly missing a servant lugging in a bucket of ice-rimed water - he steps out into the cold of a winter's evening.

Date added: 2011-06-14 05:33:43    Hits: 111
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