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Logs

Unhinged?

Tags: Horace,  Brev

Short Summary: A Shepherding Villager finds the thaw irksome
Date (real-life): 2010-06-07
Scene Location: Shaws: Shepherding V illage
Date (in-game): February 3050
Time of Day: Evening
Shepherding Village
This is the home of a small, proud, and independent people who live primarily by herding sheep in the open lands south of the Great East Road. Once driven from this region by troll depredations, they have returned and appear to be prospering, perhaps because they can also profit by trade on the Great East Road.

Or rather.... we should say it /was/ the home of these people. The many sturdy houses and smaller huts clustered on a hill here have mostly been burned. Some are yet standing, more are nothing more than charred timbers. Once, they were safely ensconced behind a deep ditch and wall. The ditch is filled with the ashy ghosts of thorn bushes ... and the gate hangs crookedly, black as charcoal.

But a stone wall is being built by a group of industrious dwarves, and many of the buildings that were still standing have been repaired. The village is now a mixture of the charred, skeletons of houses, and shiny new ones.

A long, low, smoke-stained building, sprawling along the hillside below the caravanserai, appears to the south. Its thatched roof has miraculously escaped burning - though there are black patches across it. Thick lead-paned windows are dark. A group of industrious men and dwarves and a few elves are camped in the open area.

Obvious exits:
Gathering House, Caravanserai, and Great East Road
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                           | Yfelwydan Time (YST) |
==============================================================================
** Real time is: Mon Jun 07 15:05:20 2010, GMT -8 **
Elendor time is: Evening on a Cloudy Monday, Day 14 of February 3050.

Note: It's nighttime out, so it's safe to wander outside.
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[Ollie(#15066)] Drip. Drip. Drip.

It was a warm day, and the sound of melted snow dripping off tree limbs is about to drive Horace crazy. He stomps out of his house, slamming the door with unnecessary force, and yells as loosened snow slides off the roof and down his neck. Glaring furiously about at anyone who is so foolish as to admit they saw him, or even worse, laugh at him, he heads towards the gate of the village. That the sun is nearly down does not deter him...

Of course, wishing not to be seen generally has the opposite effect to that intended. A long, lanky figure unfolds himself from the shadow of the gates, where he's been shaping rough-hewn furnishings (again) out of the way. Brev is more or less healed now, only a slight limp bears witness to his little mishaps on the road.

"Off somewhere, are we?" The corners of his mouth lift into a lopsided smirk. "Looks like you want that door off its hinge again. I can fix that for you ..."

[Ollie(#15066)] "There's nothing wrong with my door!" shouts Horace, and everyone who hadn't seen him up to this point, turns to look now. He is a sight: snow in his hair, and soggy down the back, and red-faced and furious up front.

"There wasn't, when it was fixed up," Brev concedes, not deterred in the least by the shout. "Couple more good bangs and it'll be in pieces. See, hinge-pin's almost through and the wood's warped. 'It's alright," he shrugs, "doesn't bother me. Never do object to a little extra work, provided you pay up. What's the hurry, anyway? Got a date with the goblins?" There is a hint of mockery in his voice.

[Ollie(#15066)] Horace's glare increases in intensity. If he doesn't get caught by goblins, he's going to keel over of a stroke, by the purple in his face. He opens his mouth, shuts it, opens it again, shuts it.... but nothing comes out. Until, "ARRR!" - an inarticulate noise of sheer fury. The gateguards look at each other and very quietly begin to push the gate shut...

Brev watches the villager turn redder, one brow raised. He maintains a casual stance, but unobtrusively shifts a little way away from the outer wall, so that he has plenty of room to dodge if Horace turns all that aggravation his way. "Don't let me stop you" he urges, half an eye on the gates. Interesting ...

[Ollie(#15066)] One of the guards catches Brev's eye and half-shrugs, half-grins. His thought may be clear - Horace is a bit of a pain, but he's one of them, and they'd rather not drag his chewed-up carcass home to his widow. The gate clicks shut before Horace himself notices, and he is turning to shout at the guardsman, when for the second time, a plop of snow lands on his head. It shuts him up effectively, and when he has wiped it out of his hair and eyes, most of his temper is gone as well. He gives Brev an apologetic grin. "Eh, well. Maybe t'could use a bit of fixing, come to think on it."

The corners of Brev's mouth twitch. "Handy that you've got me around, eh? I can sort it tomorrow, when you're out hunting or whatever." The words are spoken casually, with no hints of what thoughts might lie behind them.

After a moment, he tosses a sop, "Likely it's the damp that's warped it. Lot of it around." He glances round the sodden village. "Still, least damp wood won't burn."

[Ollie(#15066)] "Hunting." Horace repeats. Then nods. "Right." He turns away, stares at the shut gate for a long moment and then heads back home.

Date added: 2010-06-09 15:20:12    Hits: 68
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