Please post stories relating to the warehouse district here
VoB - Warehouse District
Moderator: Goatkiller666
The venture had reached the city proper an hour after sundown. It had rolled into the western side of the city unannounced and barely noticed. Many on the poorer sides of the city viewed the convey with suspicion from curtained windows and dark doorways.
It had been a tense time as the wagons had rolled to a stop by the ferry crossing. The old ferryman had closed for the night and wasn't willing to take the foreigners across the massive Curgesing in the dark. After some twenty minutes of arguing and what could only be swearwords in his native tongue, the old man finally agreed after a big enough bag of gold had been offered up to him.
It had taken several trips to get the entire convoy across the river. For most on the ferry the Ferryman and his sons had been the first Svalish people they had seen up close and had the chance to meet. Despite the attempts of some, none of them wished to engage the westerners in conversation. One could not avoid the feeling that whilst Western money was good enough, it was only barely so, and they could not be bothered with the foreigners at this hour.
Upon reaching the far bank, the people from the west had been confronted by the massive market square of Sinnestadt. Though empty and closed up for the night, it still was a true indication to the Eastern culture. Cold and quiet save for a few drunks headed towards a large inn on one corner, and a few ladies of pleasure strutting through the square, it was paved and walled with deep grey stone and echoed with the voices and laughter of people present.
Rolling through the streets, the people of the venture noticed that many people here were more curious and accepting of the outsiders. Whilst very few greeted them, they were curious enough to come out and look at them with looks ranging from disgust to joy as the westerners made their way down to the warehouse district.
Upon reaching the massive warehouse Holtz had acquired for the storage of ore and equipment, camp was made in its courtyard and foyer. Instead of attempting to pitch tents upon the stone grounds, many instead elected to bed down for the night inside the large warehouse. Inside here the quartermasters wagon was stored up and well guarded. Though few had seen inside it was common knowledge that this wagon held all the wealth of the expedition, as well as all the contracts of the people involved. Without that wagon and its valuable contents the venture would be nothing more than a bunch of foreigners in a strange land.
As every one gathered, the guard captain Shuldtz stood on a wooden box and addressed the crowd. He spoke in cold serious tones, clearly someone with more important things to be doing. He informed the crowd that this was to be the final stop for a few and the splitting of ways for the rest. From here the venture would split off into its respective groups and head in their own directions, some south to set up the port, others east to the mines themselves.
He went on to advise that for many this would be their last night within the confines of a relatively civilized city for some considerable time and suggested many to make the most of it. He warned that the dock houses of the east would be no different from the west and that many should avoid them, instead trying some inns further in town if their tastes were thus inclined. Finishing, he welcomed everyone to Sinnestadt and warned everyone of the early start.
And so it is that the people of the venture found themselves free of a nights sleep. Many discuss heading to a inn they had heard off called the Mastiffs end, some of the braver souls joke about heading to the docks to sample the woman of Svalsing. Others simply enjoy the luxury of a roof over their heads and settle down for the evening.
It had been a tense time as the wagons had rolled to a stop by the ferry crossing. The old ferryman had closed for the night and wasn't willing to take the foreigners across the massive Curgesing in the dark. After some twenty minutes of arguing and what could only be swearwords in his native tongue, the old man finally agreed after a big enough bag of gold had been offered up to him.
It had taken several trips to get the entire convoy across the river. For most on the ferry the Ferryman and his sons had been the first Svalish people they had seen up close and had the chance to meet. Despite the attempts of some, none of them wished to engage the westerners in conversation. One could not avoid the feeling that whilst Western money was good enough, it was only barely so, and they could not be bothered with the foreigners at this hour.
Upon reaching the far bank, the people from the west had been confronted by the massive market square of Sinnestadt. Though empty and closed up for the night, it still was a true indication to the Eastern culture. Cold and quiet save for a few drunks headed towards a large inn on one corner, and a few ladies of pleasure strutting through the square, it was paved and walled with deep grey stone and echoed with the voices and laughter of people present.
Rolling through the streets, the people of the venture noticed that many people here were more curious and accepting of the outsiders. Whilst very few greeted them, they were curious enough to come out and look at them with looks ranging from disgust to joy as the westerners made their way down to the warehouse district.
Upon reaching the massive warehouse Holtz had acquired for the storage of ore and equipment, camp was made in its courtyard and foyer. Instead of attempting to pitch tents upon the stone grounds, many instead elected to bed down for the night inside the large warehouse. Inside here the quartermasters wagon was stored up and well guarded. Though few had seen inside it was common knowledge that this wagon held all the wealth of the expedition, as well as all the contracts of the people involved. Without that wagon and its valuable contents the venture would be nothing more than a bunch of foreigners in a strange land.
As every one gathered, the guard captain Shuldtz stood on a wooden box and addressed the crowd. He spoke in cold serious tones, clearly someone with more important things to be doing. He informed the crowd that this was to be the final stop for a few and the splitting of ways for the rest. From here the venture would split off into its respective groups and head in their own directions, some south to set up the port, others east to the mines themselves.
He went on to advise that for many this would be their last night within the confines of a relatively civilized city for some considerable time and suggested many to make the most of it. He warned that the dock houses of the east would be no different from the west and that many should avoid them, instead trying some inns further in town if their tastes were thus inclined. Finishing, he welcomed everyone to Sinnestadt and warned everyone of the early start.
And so it is that the people of the venture found themselves free of a nights sleep. Many discuss heading to a inn they had heard off called the Mastiffs end, some of the braver souls joke about heading to the docks to sample the woman of Svalsing. Others simply enjoy the luxury of a roof over their heads and settle down for the evening.
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Louis de la Forêt
- Ramen
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Wed Mar 25, 2009 4:20 pm
- Location: Gravin Threndor - Valley of Blood
Louis glances around the courtyard, then wanders over to the inside of the warehouse. "Ha. Typique. Il y a des pierres dehor, et de terre dans l'immeuble." Then, catching himself speaking his own tongue, he switches to something the rest of them might understand, though he was only talking to himself. But, it pays to stay in practice. "I guess I'll sleep on the softer dirt inside than the cobblestones outside."
With that, he sets up his bedroll towards the entrance to the warehouse, not bothering with a tent at this point.
Several minutes later, when his camp, such as it was, was finished, he looked around to see what everybody else was doing.
"It's not worth going into the city to revel... I wouldn't be able to leave on time in the morning. So, I'll have to save that for when I can savor it. But, if there were some revelry HERE... I might be convinced to join in."
He noticed out of the corner of his eye the Buxley girl glancing at him, with a wispy smile on her face. He turned directly towards her and glared suddenly. So suddenly, it startled her. She gave a quiet "yip", then turned her gaze to the ground before returning to work helping her mother. Mrs. Buxley pointed the girl over to some plates that needed to be handed out for this evening's late meal, then turned back to Louis and nodded her head.
Louis bowed slightly to her, then resumed scanning the room. "Certainment, il faut être quelqu'une d'autre ici... someone whose father isn't here also."
With that, he sets up his bedroll towards the entrance to the warehouse, not bothering with a tent at this point.
Several minutes later, when his camp, such as it was, was finished, he looked around to see what everybody else was doing.
"It's not worth going into the city to revel... I wouldn't be able to leave on time in the morning. So, I'll have to save that for when I can savor it. But, if there were some revelry HERE... I might be convinced to join in."
He noticed out of the corner of his eye the Buxley girl glancing at him, with a wispy smile on her face. He turned directly towards her and glared suddenly. So suddenly, it startled her. She gave a quiet "yip", then turned her gaze to the ground before returning to work helping her mother. Mrs. Buxley pointed the girl over to some plates that needed to be handed out for this evening's late meal, then turned back to Louis and nodded her head.
Louis bowed slightly to her, then resumed scanning the room. "Certainment, il faut être quelqu'une d'autre ici... someone whose father isn't here also."
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Raphaelus the Younger
- Woodhelvennin
- Posts: 54
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 10:34 pm
- Location: Sinestadt
Dorian wrote: He went on to advise that for many this would be their last night within the confines of a relatively civilized city for some considerable time and suggested many to make the most of it. He warned that the dock houses of the east would be no different from the west and that many should avoid them, instead trying some inns further in town if their tastes were thus inclined. Finishing, he welcomed everyone to Sinnestadt and warned everyone of the early start.
And so it is that the people of the venture found themselves free of a nights sleep. Many discuss heading to a inn they had heard off called the Mastiffs end, some of the braver souls joke about heading to the docks to sample the woman of Svalsing. Others simply enjoy the luxury of a roof over their heads and settle down for the evening.
"Civilised city?" Raphaelus muttered to himself. The place was a slum. He had seen more "civilised" settlements in his journeys to the south. Still, the temptation of research proved too much for him. Unable to sleep, and driven by curiosity, he set out in search of Svalsing's more "alternative" literature.
[ooc]Raphaelus will attempt to find any libraries or private bookstores in the area that are still open, and if they are not, will enquire in the least disreputable bar nearby as to the whereabouts of said literature, staying reasonably close to the warehouses.[ooc/]
Wandering the streets aimlessly at first, Raphaelus managed to find the library with the aid of a helpful local. Walking along the lamp lit streets, the old Balorian arrived well after closing. Despite its lit windows and it clearly being occupied by someone, no amount of pounding and knocking could bring anyone to the library doors. Soon the cold night air bites too much at the old mans frame for him to continue his futile knocking.Raphaelus the Younger wrote:
"Civilised city?" Raphaelus muttered to himself. The place was a slum. He had seen more "civilised" settlements in his journeys to the south. Still, the temptation of research proved too much for him. Unable to sleep, and driven by curiosity, he set out in search of Svalsing's more "alternative" literature.
[ooc]Raphaelus will attempt to find any libraries or private bookstores in the area that are still open, and if they are not, will enquire in the least disreputable bar nearby as to the whereabouts of said literature, staying reasonably close to the warehouses.[ooc/]
Heading back towards the docks, Raphaelus finds a bar that stinks of urine and beer, the name of which he cant quite make out on the grime crusted sign. Entering, he soon finds himself to be the oldest man inside, with many younger greasy types hanging around the poorly lit bar. Men who make their living working the docks and its warehouses swill ale and fondle woman of loose morals, at least till the old scholar walks in. Raphaelus cant help but notice the eyes of all in the bar flicking glances his way.
Taking a seat at the bar, he finds his requests fall upon mostly dead ears, the locals talking only in their own dialect and claiming to not understand him, although Raphaelus can tell that at least half are lying. The only man who will talk to the elderly scholar is the barkeep.
"Sorry old man, I don't read myself, cant help you. Most of the folk around here would only use a book to wipe their nose, or worse. Old town would be your best bet." He wipes down the bar with a rag so soiled he seems to achieve little other than push the filth around the cracked wooden bar.
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Raphaelus the Younger
- Woodhelvennin
- Posts: 54
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 10:34 pm
- Location: Sinestadt
Raphaelus thanked the barkeep, giving him some shrapnel for his time, the price of a drink. Quickly leaving the bar and its unfriendly patrons behind him, he resolved to take a short look in Old town. He was determined to check the library the next time he was in town, but doubted it contained the sort of knowledge he was seeking. Still, so far from the Administratae's direct influence, who knew what might lurk in the shelves of the ancient building? The thought made him smile. The irony of his position was not lost on him.
His curiosity piqued, he set off from the docks to Old town, using the massive Town Hall to get his bearings, and the crude map of Sinestadt the expedition had supplied.
[ooc]Raphaelus will travel from the Docks, through the Warehouse District to the Town Hall, avoiding the Dockyard Rows. From there he will proceed to Old town. He will attempt to find a vendor or shop that has some flickering of life, and will ask any non-inebriated Old town residents for clues as to the whereabouts of a book seller or suchlike.[/ooc]
His curiosity piqued, he set off from the docks to Old town, using the massive Town Hall to get his bearings, and the crude map of Sinestadt the expedition had supplied.
[ooc]Raphaelus will travel from the Docks, through the Warehouse District to the Town Hall, avoiding the Dockyard Rows. From there he will proceed to Old town. He will attempt to find a vendor or shop that has some flickering of life, and will ask any non-inebriated Old town residents for clues as to the whereabouts of a book seller or suchlike.[/ooc]
Wandering the streets, Raphaelus comes into the old town. Buildings of wood and rough hewn stone line the streets, with rough cobbles making up the roads. By now a rough chill has taken hold, forcing the old mans breath to take form as steamy clouds.
Asking around, Raphaelus gets much mixed reactions. Most claim to know nothing of what he looks for, some claim to not understand him, no matter what dialect he chose to use. But one or two clearly know more. One man, only several years younger than Raphaelus who was wandering the streets in an odd intoxicated haze smiles at his request. He pointed down one of the roads, directing the old scribe towards a certain ally way and a store known for its writing supplies. He then wanders off into the night in his stoned state.
Following the mans directions brought Raphaelus to the ally way in question. Loath to enter at first, fearing muggers or a trap, the old man soon cast all doubt aside and hurried down the lane. The object of his haste was a store sign, of a quill writing upon parchment, hanging from a cast iron hook. The shutters on the windows to the store glowed from light inside. Reaching the store, Raphaelus spied a man inside, perched over a tome upon the store bench. Unable to contain himself, the old scribe went to the door, knocking excitedly.
The door swung open, and the man spotted inside stepped out, hissing a whisper in the night.
"Your late, where ha.... Oh, excuse me I had thought you were someone else." The man composed himself and Raphaelus got a good look at him. Some thirty or so years of age, dressed in tidy clothes with a small trimmed beard. The man was clearly not one bound for physical labour, his physic suggesting he spent much more time in study. Tall, gaunt and frail he regarded the elderly scholar.
"Its well past close but is there anyway I can help you?"
Asking around, Raphaelus gets much mixed reactions. Most claim to know nothing of what he looks for, some claim to not understand him, no matter what dialect he chose to use. But one or two clearly know more. One man, only several years younger than Raphaelus who was wandering the streets in an odd intoxicated haze smiles at his request. He pointed down one of the roads, directing the old scribe towards a certain ally way and a store known for its writing supplies. He then wanders off into the night in his stoned state.
Following the mans directions brought Raphaelus to the ally way in question. Loath to enter at first, fearing muggers or a trap, the old man soon cast all doubt aside and hurried down the lane. The object of his haste was a store sign, of a quill writing upon parchment, hanging from a cast iron hook. The shutters on the windows to the store glowed from light inside. Reaching the store, Raphaelus spied a man inside, perched over a tome upon the store bench. Unable to contain himself, the old scribe went to the door, knocking excitedly.
The door swung open, and the man spotted inside stepped out, hissing a whisper in the night.
"Your late, where ha.... Oh, excuse me I had thought you were someone else." The man composed himself and Raphaelus got a good look at him. Some thirty or so years of age, dressed in tidy clothes with a small trimmed beard. The man was clearly not one bound for physical labour, his physic suggesting he spent much more time in study. Tall, gaunt and frail he regarded the elderly scholar.
"Its well past close but is there anyway I can help you?"
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Konrad Ingmann
- Stonedownor
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Feb 12, 2008 8:41 am
In the dim light of the warehouse, Konrad Ingmann watched the party with impatience. He did not mind bedding down in quarters beneath his station – a life in exodus had necessitated the abandonment of traditional comforts from time to time. Certainly, he missed the trappings of university life, but the pursuit of both his research and his freedom – now so inextricably linked – meant that a cold stone floor was sometimes the best bed to be hoped for.
The less than salubrious surroundings did not bother him then, but the chattering of the company irritated the scholar exceedingly more. Tired from the long journey, and thoroughly used to assessing each and every face of the company, the doctor yearned for more engaging subjects.
Many of the expedition watched the Buxley girls, but Ingmann found their beauty dull and unengaging. They had a purely rustic appeal, and the shape and aspect of their features only complimented this. He could trace the imperfect bone structure in their faces which informed their facile mindset. Besides which, Ingmann knew that greater beauty had existed, and that only he and one other man had seen and measured it alike no other man could have. The doctor resisted the habit of going over his old notes again, and gazing once more upon those sublime measurements, that cranial perfection . . .
Ingmann checked the powder in his pistol, though he did so in a way to conceal its existence to as many of the camp as possible. Like the ageing scholar who had fumbled his way into the uncertain night before him, the doctor had every intention of plumbing this strange new place for knowledge. The knowledge Ingmann sought was probably entirely different to that of Raphaelus.
An interesting skull on that Raphaelus. Frustrating that he keeps his beard so thick, or else one could make a proper account of it. The capacity for the brain looks ample, and the cheek bones suggest a higher character. An intelligent man, certainly, but a timid one after a fashion. One never likely to rise high, doubtless attributable to a lack of ambition. I wonder, does the brain show evidence of this tendency for reservation?
‘Tell me,’ Ingmann called to the camp followers, standing to his feet and adjusting his tunic, ‘anyone interested in making a coin? I have an urge to wander to the poorer districts and see the people. I have one coin for one man, or woman, who has the fortitude, and ambition' - Ingmann added with an irony only he saw – ‘to act as my guard’.
The less than salubrious surroundings did not bother him then, but the chattering of the company irritated the scholar exceedingly more. Tired from the long journey, and thoroughly used to assessing each and every face of the company, the doctor yearned for more engaging subjects.
Many of the expedition watched the Buxley girls, but Ingmann found their beauty dull and unengaging. They had a purely rustic appeal, and the shape and aspect of their features only complimented this. He could trace the imperfect bone structure in their faces which informed their facile mindset. Besides which, Ingmann knew that greater beauty had existed, and that only he and one other man had seen and measured it alike no other man could have. The doctor resisted the habit of going over his old notes again, and gazing once more upon those sublime measurements, that cranial perfection . . .
Ingmann checked the powder in his pistol, though he did so in a way to conceal its existence to as many of the camp as possible. Like the ageing scholar who had fumbled his way into the uncertain night before him, the doctor had every intention of plumbing this strange new place for knowledge. The knowledge Ingmann sought was probably entirely different to that of Raphaelus.
An interesting skull on that Raphaelus. Frustrating that he keeps his beard so thick, or else one could make a proper account of it. The capacity for the brain looks ample, and the cheek bones suggest a higher character. An intelligent man, certainly, but a timid one after a fashion. One never likely to rise high, doubtless attributable to a lack of ambition. I wonder, does the brain show evidence of this tendency for reservation?
‘Tell me,’ Ingmann called to the camp followers, standing to his feet and adjusting his tunic, ‘anyone interested in making a coin? I have an urge to wander to the poorer districts and see the people. I have one coin for one man, or woman, who has the fortitude, and ambition' - Ingmann added with an irony only he saw – ‘to act as my guard’.
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Raphaelus the Younger
- Woodhelvennin
- Posts: 54
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 10:34 pm
- Location: Sinestadt
Raphaelus adopted a formal tone, one he was well used to using in the halls of the Collegiate.Dorian wrote: "Your late, where ha.... Oh, excuse me I had thought you were someone else." The man composed himself and Raphaelus got a good look at him. Some thirty or so years of age, dressed in tidy clothes with a small trimmed beard. The man was clearly not one bound for physical labour, his physic suggesting he spent much more time in study. Tall, gaunt and frail he regarded the elderly scholar.
"Its well past close but is there anyway I can help you?"
"My apologies for the lateness of my calling, and that I am not the one whom you expected. I am Raphaelus, of the Upper Palatine. I am a scholar of the Seventeenth Balorian Collegiate, and have but a short time in Sinestadt to obtain research materials. The Collegiate has gifted me a reasonable sum with which to procure said materials, if I find them." Raphaelus paused to let this sink in.
"My field is the study of society and religion, and my Collegiate prides itself on possessing a wide range of sources from afar." He looked around the store, appraising its contents. "It seems you could be in possession of some books of interest to the Collegiate, the rarer and more esoteric, the better." He looked the man in the eye. "And I pay cash, no questions asked." He continued to appraise the store. "I will, of course, have to sight the sources first, to verify their authenticity..."
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Louis de la Forêt
- Ramen
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Wed Mar 25, 2009 4:20 pm
- Location: Gravin Threndor - Valley of Blood
Louis noted the old man leaving the enclosure and out to the street. But given his dismissal of company before, Louis decided not to intrude this evening. "He knows where to find me."
It seemed that most of the rest of the group was content to bed down here and rest before the early morning departure. Louis closed his eyes and meditated on the white noise of their general chatter. Not listening to anything in particular, just getting used to the sound overall. Someday, knowing when the timbre of that noise changed could alert him to danger. But then a single voice reached above the rest and commanded attention:
The hunter looks at his bow, but decides it would be of little use inside a town, so reaches for his longsword instead. It had been a little while since he'd had to wear it on his hip, but he soon fell back into the particular gait necessary to avoid tripping over the blade.
He'd noticed of the guardsmen back in Gévaudin that they would walk with their off hand resting on the pommel, so that the blade could be controlled. Tilt the blade closer to the body when walking in crowds, tilt it backwards when walking at a faster pace. And they had all admitted to him that it quite simply looked more imposing to constantly have one's hand on one's weapon.
Louis strolled over to Ingmann's tent, "Louis de la Forêt, at your service, monsieur."
It seemed that most of the rest of the group was content to bed down here and rest before the early morning departure. Louis closed his eyes and meditated on the white noise of their general chatter. Not listening to anything in particular, just getting used to the sound overall. Someday, knowing when the timbre of that noise changed could alert him to danger. But then a single voice reached above the rest and commanded attention:
Louis smiled, and opened his eyes. Rising to his feet and holding up his hand to attract attention, he called back, "Herr Doktor, it would be my pleasure to accompany you. Though, I believe our employers would correctly point out that as I am already on their payroll to be your guard, it would be quite inappropriate of me to take your money."Konrad Ingmann wrote:‘Tell me,’ Ingmann called to the camp followers, standing to his feet and adjusting his tunic, ‘anyone interested in making a coin? I have an urge to wander to the poorer districts and see the people. I have one coin for one man, or woman, who has the fortitude, and ambition' - Ingmann added with an irony only he saw – ‘to act as my guard’.
The hunter looks at his bow, but decides it would be of little use inside a town, so reaches for his longsword instead. It had been a little while since he'd had to wear it on his hip, but he soon fell back into the particular gait necessary to avoid tripping over the blade.
He'd noticed of the guardsmen back in Gévaudin that they would walk with their off hand resting on the pommel, so that the blade could be controlled. Tilt the blade closer to the body when walking in crowds, tilt it backwards when walking at a faster pace. And they had all admitted to him that it quite simply looked more imposing to constantly have one's hand on one's weapon.
Louis strolled over to Ingmann's tent, "Louis de la Forêt, at your service, monsieur."
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Konrad Ingmann
- Stonedownor
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Feb 12, 2008 8:41 am
'Doktor Ingmann, indebeted to your service'. Konrad put the coin away, privately glad to retain the money. There was no telling whether or not he would be having to make a third exodus, and how soon. Wealth was not his object, but travel was impossible without a semblance of it.Louis de la Forêt wrote:"Louis de la Forêt, at your service, monsieur."
'I haven't anything too exciting in mind; a simple stroll near the slums will do. Perhaps even a short stint at a pub, to see how these people comport themselves in social gatherings.
'I see you wear a sword, and no doubt you are handy enough with it, but I'd like you to keep in mind that I consider violence a last resort. If you have no objections, I'd like to proceed directly. Towards the docks will serve my purpose well enough'.
Ingmann gently beckoned for Louis to take the take the lead in exiting the warehouse though, once upon the streets, the doctor had every intention of guiding his escort.
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Louis de la Forêt
- Ramen
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Wed Mar 25, 2009 4:20 pm
- Location: Gravin Threndor - Valley of Blood
"Why, monsieur, I abhor violence. Almost as much as I abhor my charges being injured. Rest assured, I will do my very best to avoid situations where I must choose between those two."
With that, Louis turns to the exit and heads for the river, assuming the docks will be easily found once there.
[Have I seen any kind of map of the city, hopefully with enough detail to know generally where the different sections are?]
With that, Louis turns to the exit and heads for the river, assuming the docks will be easily found once there.
[Have I seen any kind of map of the city, hopefully with enough detail to know generally where the different sections are?]
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Louis de la Forêt
- Ramen
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Wed Mar 25, 2009 4:20 pm
- Location: Gravin Threndor - Valley of Blood
"Well, Herr Doktor, the river runs North to South, and we spent some time crossing it just now, so it must be to our West from this warehouse. I'll assume that the docks are close to the warehouses. Would that suit your purposes? I doubt very much that we can get back across the river this night, unless there's a bridge."
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Konrad Ingmann
- Stonedownor
- Posts: 32
- Joined: Tue Feb 12, 2008 8:41 am
'No need. We'll see what we may, where we can. I'm more interested in the lower orders at first, the foundation of a community; the walls may come later'.
The doctor beckoned for Louis to follow him, and he set off at a brisk pace towards the gloom of the riverside.
[Ingmann will try his best to make for any group of slum dwellers or workers he can find along the river. If he is not successful, he'll find some appropriate pub]
The doctor beckoned for Louis to follow him, and he set off at a brisk pace towards the gloom of the riverside.
[Ingmann will try his best to make for any group of slum dwellers or workers he can find along the river. If he is not successful, he'll find some appropriate pub]
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Louis de la Forêt
- Ramen
- Posts: 84
- Joined: Wed Mar 25, 2009 4:20 pm
- Location: Gravin Threndor - Valley of Blood
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Raphaelus the Younger
- Woodhelvennin
- Posts: 54
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 10:34 pm
- Location: Sinestadt
"...but I'm sure that will be no problem." Raphaelus finished.
Looking through the shelves, Raphaelus' skilled eye scanned the tattered tomes. "Ah, I see you have an original Torquemada, a very fine piece this. It is encouraging to see an original after so many were burned in the purges." He opened the grimoire and began to leaf through the pages, withered with age and vellum rot. "I find the descriptions read so much better in the Old tongue, don't you?" He smiled, not waiting for the young man to answer.
"Pity about its condition though, else the collegiate would pay handsomely for such an item." He returned the hateful tome to the shelf. "As it is I doubt it would even make the journey back to Baloria." His thoughts turned to The Book of Qei'thuth, mouldering in his rucksack. He fancied he could smell its faint stench, a mixture of rotting vellum and musty leather. He knew he could finish the translation before it disintegrated into nothing, but it would never be a museum piece.
"Perhaps you have something of similar age and provenance, in better condition?"
Looking through the shelves, Raphaelus' skilled eye scanned the tattered tomes. "Ah, I see you have an original Torquemada, a very fine piece this. It is encouraging to see an original after so many were burned in the purges." He opened the grimoire and began to leaf through the pages, withered with age and vellum rot. "I find the descriptions read so much better in the Old tongue, don't you?" He smiled, not waiting for the young man to answer.
"Pity about its condition though, else the collegiate would pay handsomely for such an item." He returned the hateful tome to the shelf. "As it is I doubt it would even make the journey back to Baloria." His thoughts turned to The Book of Qei'thuth, mouldering in his rucksack. He fancied he could smell its faint stench, a mixture of rotting vellum and musty leather. He knew he could finish the translation before it disintegrated into nothing, but it would never be a museum piece.
"Perhaps you have something of similar age and provenance, in better condition?"
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Raphaelus the Younger
- Woodhelvennin
- Posts: 54
- Joined: Tue Sep 22, 2009 10:34 pm
- Location: Sinestadt
"Perhaps not, however. Perhaps Svalsing holds only scattered curios and relics, redolent of glories long since past. If so, I grieve for her. Such "curiosities" are indeed fascinating, but the knowledge I seek is far more concrete, and far more...valuable."
Raphaelus paused, waiting for the younger man to reply.
Raphaelus paused, waiting for the younger man to reply.
Raphaelus, so caught up in his perusal of the shelves, failed to notice the man grow ever more agitated. Nervously, the younger man wrings his hands together, glancing out the open door into the dark street. As the elderly scholar talks, the bookstore owners gaze flicks erratically from the street to the Raphaelus. As Raphaelus finished speaking, the mans calm seems to break.Raphaelus the Younger wrote:"Perhaps not, however. Perhaps Svalsing holds only scattered curios and relics, redolent of glories long since past. If so, I grieve for her. Such "curiosities" are indeed fascinating, but the knowledge I seek is far more concrete, and far more...valuable."
Raphaelus paused, waiting for the younger man to reply.
"Look, its late and we're closed. I'm afraid I must ask insist you leave, but please, you are welcome back tomorrow to view my wares. Now if you please..." The man indicated the door.
Raphaelus had barely been brushed out the door when he nearly collided with another man. The man held himself in such a way that screamed wealth, and dressed to match. Wearing clothes of dark velvet, with with piping lined collars and cuffs, with flashes of fine jewelery. He seemed of later middle years, though still younger than Raphaelus. His graying dark hair was trimmed above his shoulders and his facial hair was shaped with wax. He regarded Raphaelus and the store keeper as they passed him on the door threshold.
"You have company Nahl? I had not picked you for one to have a social life..." The words were spoken half condescendingly and half submissive. Not waiting for a reply, the man entered the bookstore, followed by what could only be a servant carrying a sack containing several books, tomes and scrolls. With this Nahl shut the door behind his new guests, and the clicking of the latch locking made a definite end to Raphaelus's book shopping for the night.
Down the end of the alley, Raphaelus could make out a carriage that he assumed belonged to the rich man he could see through the half shuttered windows of the book store speaking with the nervous Nahl.
Above his head, Lunarion neared the apex of her nightly crossing of the sky.
Nearing the river, the pair find themselves along its banks shortly. Though it is late they can make out some activity in the area. Some way south they could make out the docks which carved their way into the river bank. Several small groups of men worked loading and unloaded barges with cargo that had no doubtedly been stored in the warehouses that made up the district.Konrad Ingmann wrote:'No need. We'll see what we may, where we can. I'm more interested in the lower orders at first, the foundation of a community; the walls may come later'.
The doctor beckoned for Louis to follow him, and he set off at a brisk pace towards the gloom of the riverside.
[Ingmann will try his best to make for any group of slum dwellers or workers he can find along the river. If he is not successful, he'll find some appropriate pub]
But also, the sound of a females laughter draws their attention in the other direction, a small riverside bar of some sort seems to be operating here. Two levels high, it seems to cater to the needs of the working class people of the area, looking as tar stained as many of the barge decks down at the docks.