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Who can judge a thief's motives?

Tags: Corawyn,  Kanyaria,  Hrodwyn,  Digolan

Short Summary: In which talk of late summer festival sparks a diverse meeting of Houses.
Date (real-life): 2011-08-09
Scene Location: ESGAROTH: Crafts Guild
Date (in-game): August 19 3053
Time of Day: Dusk
Weather: Festive

Crafts Guild(#12140R)


  The main hall of the Crafts Guild is the center of activity for Laketown's artisians, filled constantly with people exchanging stories or showcasing some of their finer pieces. A great variety of clothes and hues strike the eye, painting the room with some of the more colorful fashions of the town. Occassionally the crests of the noble Houses poke out from the vests and cloaks.


  The room is cavernous, yet the constant assortment of crafts and tables seems to consume the extra space, giving it a comfortable, vibrant feeling. Long, hardwood beams run in parallel arches along the length of the roof, focusing upon a partitioned coat-of-arms on the back wall which bears the insignia of all four Houses as well as the standard of Esgaroth. A pair of ornate oak doors lie opposite each other on the side walls, leading to a collection of small offices belonging to the Guildmaster and other prominent members. The floor space is partitioned along the walls by tables, bearing the work of a variety of crafts, and beyond that large hearths provide warm light and crackling flames. At the center of the room rests a large rectangular table, each of its legs carved to include elements of a House's standard. A dark gray bell waits at the table's midpoint to commence formal meetings.




Outside the daylight wanes, gilding the rippling waters of Long Lake with deepening purples and golds akin to the strokes of a paintbrush. Many have taken to the streets on their way from a hard day's work to the comfort of hearth and home, and others still head to the Flagon and gambling halls for a few minutes' good cheer to ward off their weariness. One at least remains at some task, however, and appears to have drafted a few further folk to her cause.


Lady Corawyn Taurdain, Senior of the Guild of Craftsmen despite her relative few years, appears to be overseeing a few strong-armed fellows as they move several tables around the room now that they are empty of the wares of so many crafters and artisans. Modest though her height may be, the lady stands upon a chair to allow herself a better view, and alternates between rising up to the balls of her feet, scribbling hurried notes into a ledger that is otherwise stuffed unceremoniously under her arm, and calling out to the men in a voice far too ladylike to be heard over the scraping of wooden table legs against the floor.


"A bit more to the left, if you will, please?" she calls with a hand cupped to her mouth, though it accomplishes little. "What, now?" returns the man, his own timbre quite gruff in contrast.


[Hrodwyn(#12320)] A young woman dressed in a worn green tunic and black boots enters the craft hall, grey eyes flicking with dark thoughts and arms folded sternly. Hrodwyn pauses by the entrance and then, after sighing, continues onward towards the one who appears in charge -- Corawyn. She moves with deliberate speed, not walking normally but also not jogging and certainly not running, as if she wishes to make her approach without an undue expenditure of time or energy. Upon nearing her target, she waits a moment politely, arms still crossed.



Swoosh and tap, swoosh and tap, the traveling cloak about Amon Thranduil's Digolan sets counterpoint to his birch wood staff as he passes smooth strides through the entrance and a number of paces across the wooden floor. In a land of men, when one walks in near silence, a signal of one's presence may be desired at times. Truly one reason why an Eldar such as the scholar walks with a staff, for support needed with aging years certainly is not amongst them. When his path is paused, thin long-fingered hands lower his hood - and his face shows pleasure in a gentle smile.


        A laboring symphony of work unfolds before his eyes and ears, a fair production of summertime joys readying in this booming land of men. The vibrant colors, the warmth of the room - Digolan seems quite comfortable, shoulders relaxed and hands finding familiar grasp of birch. "Mind me not, conduct your players freely, my friend. Please," he speaks in baritone to Corawyn, lingering enigmatically admist the work. He makes no move to assist himself.


[Kanyaria(#19984)] On the fringes of the room is a cloaked figure. Her hood pulled up over her head, her raven hair flowing over her shoulders, more for anonymity than anything. Her purpose for being here is yet unclear both to herself and those who may or may not notice her presence. A calculated observer would recognize the color of her House which further confuses the situation considering those gathered here. From her sideline position, she watches the Taurdain woman directing the men about but makes no movement to assist or offer any words of advice. She simply watches.


"Oh!" This is the only greeting, however unconventional, that Corawyn offers for a long moment after realizing her audience in Hrodwyn and Digolan; and by her face, it appears equal parts surprise and delight as she lowers herself as gracefully as possible back to the floor.


"Master Elf, you need not stand back any longer than you wish to. Indeed, I had hoped to find you myself," she calls to Digolan with good cheer, despite the surly disposition her helpers have fallen into. Beaded sweat upon their brows suggests that this may be a task long in doing.


To Hrodwyn, nearby as the Karath woman stands waiting, Corawyn's voice is quieter. "Good even to you, miss. Have you come to enquire after the coming crafts faire? All are welcome!" She pats the tome under her arm with a satisfied smile, suggesting that her current errand may be related.


But the cloaked woman, for all her secrecy, does not find the Taurdain lady's eyes upon her.


[Hrodwyn(#12320)] "No. I was hoping to find a member of your guild, the gentleman selling leather sheaths for knives here just earlier today. I have forgotten his name already," Hrodwyn explains bluntly, voice low and direct, not harsh but lacking the sweetness or refinement of others. Pausing then, the young woman quirks the side of her mouth and her voice softens, entering the proper key of refinement for her followup. "If you know of the man of which I speak, Lady Taurdain, I would appreciate your assistance."



While outwardly the Eldar should appear present in the moment, warm smile fixed and bright eyes buzzing with his own festivity, the hand that lifts from staff flitters about the air rhythmically. Lyre and flute playing within his mind, a glow rises in sharp cheeks - and elven-kind would know the dreams of waking have taken him for the moment. A quick moment, as Corawyn's reply, comes.


Friendly yet his features, but mingled now with curiousity in single line across his smooth brow as he approaches in continued mimic of un-heard song. Allowing Hrodwyn's inquiry the moment's priority, he stands now aside the woman of Karath - offering nod of greeting to one he has not met. His gaze then sweeps the room, evenly from far left around to right, before returning to Corawyn, awaiting words patiently.


[Kanyaria(#19984)] The cloaked figure still slinks against the outskirts of the room watching the exchange of the three. She's not close enough at this point to hear and the exchange. Finally, unable to contain herself to the shadows any longer, Kanyaria submits herself to the light. Removing the hood, she slips closer to group to listen in on the conversation.


Corawyn purses her lips in thought, her eyes momentarily far away as she consider's Hrodwyn's request with no apparent affront at the early chill of her manner. "I am sorry, but there are a few gentlemen of that specific inclination in leatherworking, and I have hurried them all off to their homes, that I might have more space for... preparations. I could ask them upon the morrow and seek you out, if I might have your name?" Her hazel eyes show great curiosity as she awaits an answer.


The lady appears to notice Kanyaria over Hrodwyn's shoulder, however, and something in her manner steels. That is, at least, until she turns for a few further words for Digolan. "I wonder, Master Elf, if you have heard word of our ambitions toward a crafts faire as a part of the upcoming festivities? I left mention with... the sterner fellow among your kin." Here again her eyes drift to Kanyaria with a question kindled in their depths. "Speaking of which, lady... have you a mind to enter as well?"


[Hrodwyn(#12320)] "I am called Hrodwyn of Karath and I thank you for your assistance, Lady." The young woman answers Corwayn's question audibly, so that even Kanyaria might hear it, keeping her voice even and slightly formal. Having done so, she bows her head and steps back to allow Digolan to address the Taurdain lady; as she does so, her own eyes fall upon Kanyaria and she too frowns deeply, chewing on her lower lip as she does so.



A single bright laugh bursts forth from Digolan, as he shakes his head in the negative, "Nay miss, not from him. Were we human one might think us akin to a pair of elderly betrothed - when he enters a room? I most ofen exit. Rarely are words spoken betwixt us. Far too stern is Londarod - and quick will be his route west when he should sail. In my hopes at least." Suddenly he winks, a curious mannerism - rarely displayed amongst his kin, but old are his paths and winding. A single finger of declaration then rises, "But! From others, yes. Summer's festivities are a blessing to all kinds - and thusly my curiousity has led me here. To seek you specifically, lady Corawyn, and learn of your part in the Festival!"


        With a pause then, he inserts his own polite greeting, "And a fair meeting I should hope - Hrodwyn of Karath. In the lands of Dale I am called Digolan." As the ways of humans are endlessly varied, and long studied by the scholar, the opposing demeanors of those gathered give him no alarm - as yet.


[Kanyaria(#19984)] Kanyaria nods politely to all parties involved. She smiles sweetly to the Lady Taurdian, "No, Lady, I don't believe I shall be entering in your festivities. Not at this time, anyways. I've actually only recently learned of the gathering. Perhaps I may be persuaded to change my mind at a later time but ..that time is not now."


"Very well then," Corawyn answers as calmly to Kanyaria, though there is a slight difference in her manner to suggest it is forced to be so. "I would be remiss if I did not at least offer, I think." She turns aside all too eagerly to offer further direction to the men who aid her. "Bring in the last row of tables now, if you would, Brogan?"


Once the men are on their way toward the back of the hall at her bidding, she turns back to the others. "Hrodwyn of Karath, I shall do my best on behalf of my Guildmaster. I suspect that, whichever man you speak of, I will need to be finding him soon enough about entering the competition himself. I would have all crafts represented that I can mange to muster."


This brings Corawyn's focus last to Digolan, though her own mien is inexplicably glum for a moment. "I fear we agree upon your kinsman's manner, Digolan," she laments, his name less fluid when the lady speaks it, for all her efforts. "But I had hoped to speak to your of a happier subject, both when the message was delivered and now. Have you an appreciation for craft yourself, enough that you might wish to attend our faire as a judge on behalf of the Firstborn?"


[Hrodwyn(#12320)] "Thank you again, Lady." Hrodwyn smiles appreciatively at Corawyn; upon Digolan's greeting, she nods politely while offering the elf a dignified, albeit somewhat tentative, smile. But when her eyes come, still moving about in a cautiously aggressive manner, come to settle on the Arathmore, even the least remanents of her smile fade, replaced with her traditional calm neutrality. She remains, however, listening to Corawyn speak of the craft fair.



Carefully now Digolan measures the exchange between Corawyn, several times over shown to be friend, and Kanyaria, a person as well un-met amidst his ceaseless wanderings about the town. How one bearing the colors of Arathmor has escaped his regard he may only wonder upon the following days, but for now he absorbs the subtleties hidden within the ruse of pleasant exchange.


        Gathering enough of his impressions, he then finds a curious metaphor, and speaks, "With the business about town of late, I wonder how many of us might seek the same craftsman as you, Hrodwyn - or others with similar wares. But I wish not to speak darkly in such pleasant company." A brightness of polite warmth on his face is shared in equal measure to all, Kanyaria included, before he concludes, "I am honored at your request, and shall honor your wishes with my presence and my wits. Ages may have passed since my youth, when I long practiced mine own handiwork under endless stars - but my memory will never fade." To clarify his acceptance, he bows, and rises with beaming smile.


[Kanyaria(#19984)] Kanyaria ignores the glares she receives from the others. To the Taurdain she smiles, "I appreciate the offer, Lady. I'm sure your crafts will be met with much enthusiasm." Turning to Digolan, "and with you judging. All the more so. It sounds like the festival is shaping up quite nicely." She says that as she surveys the room, taking it all in. "I shall be interested myself to see the unique things the event shall bring to Lake-Town."


"Digolan, I am ever grateful for your willingness. It shall be a gift to the guild in this regard, truly."


Curiosity and wariness begin a silent war upon Corawyn's young features at the mention of darker words, however. "It is a shame to think of such shadows upon a summer's day, and yet who can afford not to do so, lately?" she speaks to all and yet none, as if thinking aloud, perhaps. "I wonder if I ought to seek the watchmen to stand at the doors of the hall as a precaution? A theft would hardly compare to events too nearly recent, but there has been much interest among famed craftsmen throughout the realm. And thefts have hardly been unheard of. Surely, Lady Kanyaria, you can appreciate the thought, for the theft within your own house not long ago?" The Taurdain noblewoman watches the Arathmor's face somewhat overlong as she awaits an answer, but continues soon enough. "Some even say that the dwarves will come down from the mountain with something to be marveled."


Hrodwyn also frowns at Digolan's words but nods understandingly. "I believe that Esgaroth remains a safe place, with a fine watch, but precautions are always necessary and a watchman may perhaps be wise in these days." Perhaps unconsciously, she toys with the fabric of her tunic, quirking her mouth slightly to the side. "Yet, to have such a marvelous fair here makes such efforts greatly worth their cost. I wish it the greatest of successes."



"I have no doubt that I shall marvel upon the mountain folks entries," laughs Digolan, quite briskly before tapping his chest, controlling his humor and feigning to clear his throat. Again a finger of declaration rises from the hand that wanders freely amidst his words to provide punctuated gesture, and he continues, "Such as fire and water, sun and moon - ever a careful balance with second-born. And ever one necessary to the other. Strange are the gifts of Eru to your folk. I watch but claim not to have any answer. Forsooth, the only answer I give is to insist upon heightened watch - in all areas, and upon all days of this grand Festival." He pauses, weight in his words betrayed by the low tones.


        So he brightens his speech, hefting the warmth of his acceptance back to his cheeks, "To the common man, the guards might seem a part of the festivity - an air of the official. Whilest those hosting may know that they shall have peace, joy and no seedy interuptions." Once more he looks to each face in equal measure, equal warmth and inquires, "Certainly all houses may agree?"


[Kanyaria(#19984)] Kanyaria nods her head and the elf's words in agreement. "This is true and I'm sure the dwarves entries will be something to be had." Turning to Corawyn, a frown on her features, "Precaution never hurt anyone though. However, I do not know of the theft from the House of Arathmor in which you speak of, Lady Taurdain."


"I do agree, certainly, for Taurdain's part," Corawyn answers readily with a nod between Digolan and Hrodwyn. It is then, however, that her face freezes for a moment in a picture of wariness. "You do not know of it, truly?" she asks with carefully metered words and an ill-practiced determination to mask her frown. "The Karath lost a ceremonial sword, to which I am sure Hrodwyn can attest. Girion likewise lost something - a signet ring, as I understand it."


A fleeting flicker of a glance toward Digolan is hard to miss, though its import goes unheralded.


[Hrodwyn(#12320)] "Indeed, the family has lost a ceremonial sword." Hrodwyn concedes, only half-concealing anger which flares in her suddenly narrowed eyes but that otherwise does not affect her expression. "It is distressing to have such events happen. And I only hope that nothing further of the sort occurs." Turning towards Kanyaria, the soldier's face returns to passive neutrality. "I am glad to hear at least one house avoided a serious theft."



"'Twas quite the night of thievery that struck; the threads continue to unravel," answers Digolan, slow measured words suddenly full of mystery. The weight of recent events lingers, diminishing his glow, and shrinking the pleasant curves of warm conversation from his face. "Other errands now return to my mind, but I have much welcomed joy in my heart for this opportunity, Lady Corawyn," he speaks again, the blend of sounds upon his words betraying what he will not speak openly, "for I ever seek reminders of blissful times long past. I pray the whole month shall be reprieve for us all."


        Of a sudden, he begins the ceremonies of departure, nodding first to the Taurdain, and second to the Karath lady. At last he turns with renewed ceremony in regards of Kanyaria, stating, "Our houses know much of each other, so it befits that I should share a name for myself - Digolan they call me. And you?" He frames his greeting with sincerity, a gracious hand held upon the air as if to kindly welcome her name.


[Kanyaria(#19984)] Kanyaria stares at Corawyn with a strange curiosity. The puzzlement plays on her face for several moments beofre she speaks slowly, "No, Lady, I truly know nothing of it. However, as you may have heard, I am not currently the favorite among my kinsman. Therefore, I may be a bit out of the loop." Kanyaria internally kicks herself for being left out of this information and secretly vows to discuss with Alaric at once.


  Kanyaria then turns to Digolan. Something plays in her eyes that suggest there's something she isn't saying. She considers the elf with a stare that last much longer than it should. The Lady shakes her head and seems to come back to herself. She smiles to the elf, "Kanyaria. Kanyaria Arathmor. It's a pleasure to meet your acquiantance, Digolan."


For a moment fraught with tension, Corawyn only wrings her hands and worries at her bottom lip, seeming suddenly determined to look at anyone but Digolan. "Yes, it is a misfortune my house seems lucky to have avoided, to be certain," she nods to Hrodwyn, undeniably glum by the timbre of her gentle mid-soprano. "But please do not think that we do not share our fellows' hurts over such misfortune. Surely no one wishes to see our fair town's safety in question."


The young noblewoman's eyes remain downcast to her hands even as she speaks to the elf, though kindly so.


"We must speak again soon, Master Digolan - before the event itself, for certain. But for now, I too must beg you all to forgive a hasty farewell. There is much to be done. Good evening." Corawyn scarcely waits for an answer before gathering her skirts and bustling off toward the back of the hall, the way her helpers had gone not long ago.



Even amidst his own musings, awareness that his demeanor has shifted visibly strikes Digolan's mind - and perhaps the concern shown upon Corawyn inspires quick words. "Though many doubt it, the safety of this town is of utmost concern to my kin. Deeds, errands or inquiries regarding this topic are the very bit now pulling me away." He offers a bow in regards to Kanyaria's introduction, adding then, "A noble house, a kind lady. Well met." A final look to Hrodwyn grants a smile, one that widens once more as if to comfort what he has observed from Corawyn - where his gaze now falls. "Such a pleasure, one that I will muse upon after the nights business has concluded. I shall seek thee at the Taurdain suites, Corawyn."


        And so the scholar follows but a pair of steps behind the Karath woman's departure. Tap and swoosh, tap and swoosh and away upon the wooden beams of the noisy public streets, to disappear with hood lifted anew.


[Kanyaria(#19984)] Kanyaria nods to these final words spoken from Digolan. "If you'll excuse me..." She trails off. With that abruptness, she turns and flees the hall.

Date added: 2011-08-10 03:33:00    Hits: 80
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