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A name of fame?

Tags: Bardur,  Hrodwyn,  Riolan,  Isobel

Short Summary: A chance meeting in the armour shop leads to Hrodwyn's name becoming better known than perhaps she might like?
Date (real-life): 2013-03-12
Scene Location: Armour Shop
Date (in-game): May 3058
Time of Day: Afternoon
Armour Shop
This small shop has numerous items for sale. The shop is somewhat stuffy and hot, you assume from the attached forge. Apprentices can be seen moving about their daily chores, and the place is kept relatively clean. A few feet in front of the door is a large counter. Beside the door is bench for people to sit. In the back of the room is a large table with many pieces of leather and metal thrown about. You can also see a rack with many tools that must be used for forging. You have the feeling that the proprietor is a man who enjoys his work.
A small sign hangs upon a wall.
Obvious exits:
Heavy Door and Out
Dale-Lands Time and Weather Service
Real Time: Tue Mar 12 16:38:29 2013 MST
Dale-Lands Time:
Sunday, late afternoon on a rainy spring's day, May 28 of 3058
Summer's here, and with it the summer storms. Even now as day's end nears a thunderclap echoes round the Market Square, sending marketgoers scurrying for cover.
Dwarves, of course, do not scurry. Nevertheless it is with every appearance of haste that Bardur son of Mardur ducks through the nearest doorway without bothering to read the sign above. The Dwarf has a cloak - a fine one of brown wool - but he's not wearing it. No, rather said item is wrapped around some lumpy vaguely cylindrical object about the length of his outstretched arm. "By Mahal's beard!" he mutters, brushing droplets off the cloak-wrapping with frantic speed.
[Hrodwyn(#12320)] Already present in the shop is Hrodwyn of Karath. Clothed in a forest green dress with three-quarter length sleeves that flare at the elbow, this Lieutenant of the King's Men idles to the right of the door, frowning deeply at the sound of thunder. While her eyes reflect annoyance and blunt impatience, her posture is steady and her breathing is calm.
Just as she begins to toy with the grey cloak folded over her arms, a dwarf enters. After studiously glancing at this newcomer, she shrugs and looks back towards the entrance and the accelerating rain outside.
[Isobel(#23796)] A young man with his arms tucked over his head scuttles into the store hot on the dwarf's heels, panting as if he's just run. His dark hair is rain-slick and the sleeve of his tunic becomes a darker shade of red as he hastily wipes his face free of trickling water. Blue eyes peer around the shop curiously while Riolan's breathing slowly returns to normal and eventually his cheeks lose the red colour of exertion. Without a word he sketches a slight bow to the other people in the room and there's a twinge of annoyance on his face when the sword at his side makes the movement clumsy. He squirms and fiddles with the sheath.
The Dwarf barely glances up at the sound of panting breaths behind him, so absorbed is he in his task. But then, satisfied at last with the state of his cloak, he focuses on Hrodwyn staring at him - no wait, past him. He essays a bow and murmurs a deep-voiced, "Good evening," - only for his gaze to be caught by the item displayed on the wall behind, a coat of ringmail. "Most interesting," he murmurs, striding over towards it and starting to peer. "I've always wondered what Mannish craftsmanship was like."
[Hrodwyn(#12320)] "You should leave the scabbard alone. It is a bad habit to form," states Hrodwyn bluntly, with some force, as she watches Riolan. At the same time, her shoulders slump and her stern eyes reflect exhaustion. Then, turning her attention towards the back of the shop while still toying with the cloak in her arms, she comments indifferently towards Bardur -- "Dale armor is of fine quality, though perhaps unsatisfying for a dwarf."
[Isobel(#23796)] Riolan's hand jerks back and his face flushes a deep red for a moment. "Ah... thank you, lady," he mutters stiffly and tucks his arms behind his back. Then he steps towards the back of the room and maks a great show of looking at the tools.
Just as well he did - the bell above the door jingles discordantly to herald the arrival of yet another person, this one perhaps a customer even. It must be getting crowded in the shop and indeed, Isobel Taurdain stops for a moment at the doorstep and stares in surprise. "Goodness, isn't this a sight?" she wonders aloud ere taking a step inside. The door she leaves ajar, possibly to let in some cool air. She looks about the shop, and towards the forge before eventually clearing her throat and addressing the company. "Ah... forgive me, are you all waiting in line? And regardless, perhaps someone could tell me whether Master Halgan is in today or not?"
Hrodwyn's words cause the Dwarf to break off his perusal with a guilty start, glancing toward the place where /he/ might wear a scabbard, were he outside town. "I am sure Dale's armourers are masters of their trade," he replies diplomatically. "Of course, techniques differ. Are you then a smith," there is an absent-minded pause whilst he tears his gaze away from the handiwork he'd been inspecting to note that, yes, the one in green is female, "lady?"
He shuffles quite politely out of Riolan's way, offering him another of those little half-bows ... and then he's being addressed again! Slowly the Dwarf shakes his head, black beard quivering. "Not I, lady," he answers. "I merely sought shelter. Though in other matters I am, of course, at the service of those present." For the third time that stiff little bow is repeated, made awkward by the fact that he's still cradling his bundled cloak as tenderly as a mother might a baby.
Hrodwyn smiles briefly at Riolan's reaction to her comment and then sighs, closing her eyes for a moment. Isobel interrupts this moment of reverie, and the soldier watches the new Lady with quiet bemusement. Still, after a moment's pause, she does answer the question, her voice tired but polite. "Lady Taurdan -- if I am not mistaken -- Master Halgan is out ill today."
After speaking these few words, she takes a breath before replying to the dwarf's inquiry. "As for me, I am no smith. Just one stuck inside by this storm."
[Isobel(#23796)] "Ah." Isobel's eyes narrow when she frowns and glances away, eyes absently skimming the space behind the counter as if the one she seeks might magically pop into being there. She sighs softly and after a moment returns her gaze to the company. "Thank you," she tells them politely (even Riolan who after offering a bow is now presenting her with his back) and then eyes Hrodwyn with interest. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage, lady...?"
A sudden rumbling of mirth comes from the Dwarf at Hrodwyn's words. "Then we share common purpose here," he concludes. "But never let it be said that a Dwarf can't put fortune to good use." He moves off, surveying some of the items arrayed there. On reaching Riolan's side he asks the youth gruffly, "Looking for anything in particular, laddie? My kin have work to trade also."
[Isobel(#23796)] Riolan starts again when he is suddenly addressed and he offers the dwarf an apologetic smile. "To be honest, Master dwarf, I am merely seeking shelter from the storm. Though..." His gaze grows distant for a moment as if he is considering something. "Well, what are you trading? My father is a warrior, and a Karath, friend of dwarves, at that. Perhaps something of your kin's make would be a suitable gift."
[Hrodwyn(#12320)] "I am called Hrodwyn...of Karath."
The solider answers Isobel's question with weary courtesy while she bows her head slightly. Looking towards the back of the shop, she nods slowly, taking a deep breath and letting it out audibly. A few more words follow, still polite, though with air of being forced -- "An unusual gathering this is. I had hoped to avoid the rain. But it is strange how even the smallest events may go wrong."
[Isobel(#23796)] "Hrodwyn?" Isobel blinks and peers hard at the woman before she bows her head, a lot deeper than the Karath herself did. "Then we are in the presence of a hero, or so I have been told." A faint smile curves her lips. "If half of what is being said is true then you are worthy of more than one song in your honour, lady."
For a moment the Dwarf's assured manner fades, as before when Hrodwyn mentioned scabbards. "Well, I am not ..." He gathers his scattered wits and amends, "That is - many of my kin have goods to trade. Master Brerin specializes in items of leather - perhaps a matched set of bracers? Or a fine blade of Dwarven make?" Tactfully, he does not mention armour, though he no doubt has an opinion on the superiority of Dwarven craftsmanship. "My own skills lie rather in the smithing of words. Are there some deeds of your father that could be woven into-"
The words break off as Isobel's speech carries across the quiet room. He turns, bowing to the two women rather more deeply than before, so that his beard wags to his knees. "Then song there shall be!" he declares grandly, adding rather more quietly to Isobel, "if you might first enlighten me on the deeds?" Sadly, it appears that the exploits of individual Bardings have not until now been a topic of interest for him.
Hrodwyn eyes Isobel while a frown tugs at the edge of her lips. This frown is quashed just as it begins, and a half-smile replaces it. Simultaneously, a modest flush enters her cheeks. Ultimately, she laughs softly, giving her head a slight shake.
"I have done nothing worthy of note, for all others would have done the same."
[Isobel(#23796)] Isobel looks at the other lady thoughtfully for a moment before one shoulder lifts in a shrug. "Perhaps. But it is more satisfying, and fair, to praise the deeds someone has done rather than the imaginary ones others may or may not do. Yet your modesty does you credit, Mistress." She offers the woman a smile before shifting her gaze to the dwarf - "I am afraid I did not catch your name, Master Dwarf, but if you are not afraid to brave the rain or my company I should be glad to tell you what I have heard. Since the one I sought is not here I should not linger."
[Isobel(#23796)] There's the flash of teeth as Riolan watches the dwarf become distracted, the grin easy yet seemingly without cause. Whatever thought amused him he does not share it. Instead he politely states, "I will think on it, Master Dwarf, and decide which gift would most suit. Have a good day, eh?"
The Dwarf hefts the cloak-bundle in his arms and shifts from foot to foot thoughtfullly. "What?" He stares at Isobel blankly for a moment before realizing a response is required. "Bardur son of Mardur at your service," he declares, offering another bow although this one's more of a bob. "Ah, yes, I shall seek you out later. For now ..."
He turns to Hrodwyn, fixing her with a steady gaze, and declaims in a rumbling bass:
    "Wrathful Hrodwyn, bright blade wielding
    Faced the foul-spawned filth unyielding ...
    Turned back troll, and goblin foe
    Sent them shrieking, scattered woe.
Hmm. Those last lines leave something to be desired. Let me see, let me see ..." There is a faraway look in the Dwarf's blue eyes, and he seems barely to recall his current companions, for he offers Riolan no more than a nod before turning and wandering out of the Armour Shop without so much as a word of farewell - back into that rain he'd fled earlier. His lips move in silence and every now and then one can hear a rumbled word: "... dark-tressed ... dealing ... something ... healing?"

Date added: 2013-03-16 12:37:22    Hits: 60
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