LOCATION:
Azrubatan: At the Seagate
The Sea Street spreads to an enormous width before the Seagate, forming a great plaza in front of it. To the north, the walls of Umbar step aside - a hundred-feet wide gap - revealing an unrestricted view of the Bay of Umbar and the armada of ships of all kinds that clutter its harbours. The thick battlements on both ends of the walls hide massive gates of steel that are ready to slide inward and block off the passage to or from the Harbours. Why would they ever be used is unclear, for who can challenge the Numenoreans from the Sea?
Southeast, the street starts narrowing as it heads for the very top of the Hill of Umbar, and disappears beyond it.
OOC Note: There are +VIEWables here. Type +views.
Contents:
* Thalos Longstar, Lieutenant to Lord Belzakhor
Obvious exits:
* North leads to Umbar, The Harbours: Merchant Harbour.
* Southeast leads to Kingsquare.
[Thalos:]
The torches that line the way through to the harbor have just been lit as the light gives way to darkness as it does so every day. The last hues of violet and pink vanish from the sky and are now murky depths of azure and ebony. The light flickers across the faces and clothes of people passing by. The orange and red flames dancing wild along the tips of flax wrapped tightly about oaken shafts. Sailors pass this way and that, returning or going for a night on the town before they continue on what their jobs deem neccessary, a way of life... and death.
The dancing flames are reflected upon one man especially the glint of metal is dominant upon him as well as the ten men that stand behind him in a column that is two wide by five long. Each wearing the crest of Belzakhors host, this does not look like any ordinary patrol more like they were sent to the docks district for a task of some sort... what this could be is beyond any bystanders, except perhaps the guilty ones.
They begin to march towards the warehouses that line the docks to the north with the officer at the lead, Thalos Longstar... a long time veteran of the Numenorean Army and a recognizable figure to a few in the area.
[Barzag:] Late it may be, but some have not yet finished their daily labours. In the light of the smoking torches, it can be seen that the door to one warehouse lies open. A cart stands outside one building, and a couple of men are carefully unloading the last of its contents - preshaped blocks of the smooth greyish granite for which Forrostar is famed. A faint beam of light spills through the open door, and it is interrupted every now and then by a shadow - likely the warehouse keeper is giving instructions about the placement of the goods.
One of the pair of workers, a swarthy-skinned man, shorter than most and clearly no Numenorean, halts his labours to wipe the sweat from his brow, and the glint of metal catches his eye. He gazes at Thalos and his men for a moment, golden-brown eyes curious, brows drawing down slightly in a frown, and then turns to shout something back to the warehousekeeper, before lifting another block of stone.
[Thalos:]
The workers unloading stones are of but a passing glance by Thalos then with one more glance he makes his decision, theirs will be the warehouse he searches first. The sounds of footfalls in step come closer to the warehouse as Thalos calls out to the workers there, "Excuse me good men, might i talk to your quartermaster or the keeper of this warehouse?" His voice is rather pleasant almost that of a diplomat or politician, yet his words and tones are that of a seasoned military officer.
As the come to the entrance where the work is being carried out the small colum comes to a halt all their eyes focused upon the pair of workers that stands covered in sweat from a hard days work.
[Barzag:] Both workers stop to regard the officer and his men. One man, the pale-skinned one, nods and slips inside. The other, the swarthy fellow, sighs and steps back, never taking his eyes off the soldiers. At close quarters it is obvious that the man has a malformed lip, and this twitches now, though whether this indicates nervousness, annoyance at the interruption or something else, who can say? He remains silent for the moment.
Now a portly man emerges from the warehouse, grey eyes haughty and features set in a scowl. "What is it?" he demands irritably. "It's high time I was closing, if these lazy-" He trails off abruptly as his gaze falls on Thalos. "Good evening, sir," he continues much more politely. "Is there something I can help you with? As I said, I was about to close up for the night."
[Thalos:]
"Why yes there is something you can help us with, You see i am under orders to search the docks and warehouses, and we would like to start with yours." his tone always polite and frank, yet in a roundabout way demanding. He moves forward with a piece of parchment in his hand and presents it to the keeper. His eyes are cold perhaps even more so than a sword itself. His movements were swift and percise and within moments he was where he started again at the head of the column after he handed over the small search warrant.
[Barzag:] The warehousekeeper shifts position so as to block the entrance - coincidence or something more? "Search the warehouse?" he exclaims. "I hardly think that's necessary. And I don't imagine my customers would give permission for someone poking through their property." He frowns now, slowly unrolling the parchment and reading its contents. "And just what was it you were looking for?" he queries Thalos. "I can tell you right now the contents of this warehouse, save you and your men the trouble of searching ... and the disruption."
[Thalos:]
Shaking his head with quite some disappointment at the mans answer Thalos continues, "I think you have mistaken my politness for weakness sir, that was not a request... it was a demand." he says no more for the moment his cold gaze falling in turn on each of the workers then back to the keeper. His hand falls upon the pommel of his sword casually as if it were some light hearted reminder as to who was in charge at the moment. "We will not be long, and we will have a few questions for you and your men before we leave..." he begins to walk towards the entrance, ignoring the keeper in front of it.
[Barzag:] The warehousekeeper's reluctance does not abate, but he bows to the inevitable and steps out of Thalos way. "Very well, sir - do try not to disturb anything ..." He eyes the column of soldiers with barely concealed distaste. "I suppose you'll be wanting to see the inventory?" He turns away and begins patting his pockets. "You two," he calls out to the forgotten labourers, "assist this officer and his men in their efforts."
The swarthy-skinned fellow dips his head in a nod, tugging at the right sleeve of his tunic as he regards Thalos warily. "What do you wish me to do?", he asks the officer in accented yet perfectly understandable Adunaic, his voice deep yet slightly nasal.
[Thalos:]
Nodding with the same cold politeness to the keeper, "Aye, i would like to see the inventory as well as where you keep all your records and letters that go in and out of this warehouse." the soldiers move past him as if they were water flowing around a rock and enter the building with precise drill movements. No doubt that these are highly trained and expereinced men, their faces show it. Cold eyes that sit upon a field of ghostly skin marked with scars of battle.
The young officer looks to the worker that asks of what assitance he can be. Thalos simply grins with a glancing look to the pale skinned fellow and the keeper, "You three shall accompany me to a place where we might ask some questions of you... Inside."
The words were more of a demand hidden in a polite remark which seems to be what Thalos is good at. He enters the darkness of the warehouse expecting the three to follow him.
[Barzag:] "Letters?" the warehousekeeper asks in surprise. "Don't get many of those - most of my customers are within the city, so we make arrangements in person." He gives one last futile pat to his robes, then sighs and moves over to the small desk half-hidden in one corner and begins rummaging through papers there. "Ah, here we are - " He holds out a neatly written parchment detailing the warehouse's current goods: ten cartloads of stone from Forrostar, a double load of seasoned timbers from Lond Daer, fifty barrels of salted fish from Pelargir... Curiously, there seem to be two sizes of barrels stacked at the back of the warehouse, and while the larger ones are clearly marked with a fish, the smaller ones bear a quite different symbol, too complex to distinguish at a distance.
The two labourers, having followed Thalos as requested, stand silent for now, though from their sullen expressions they are not best pleased to be held back at days end. The darker-skinned one in particular keeps his distance from the officer, amber eyes continuing to scrutinize the man.
[Thalos:]
With a suspicious glance to the barrels on the far side of the wall which cannot be clearly distinguished as to what they are from the distance that Thalos is standing at. With a quick nod he orders, "You two, go open one of those barrels." the two soldiers immediately begin jogging, as they do so their armor makes small clanking noises with some effort they seem to find a barrel that is not part of those stacked against the wall but seems to be marked with the same symbols.
"What are those barrels filled with then?" he asks as the soldiers begin to start the process of opening it. His eyes flicker from one man to another awaiting a answer. The soldiers are spread out now, except for the two now opening the barrel. Their footfalls echo in the large room yet Thalos' commanding voice seems to drown out the ghostly echoes.
[Barzag:] The warehouse keeper's head whips round as the two soldiers carry out their orders. "Careful now," he snaps out. "Those barrels contain wine, you clumsy fools!" Indeed, on closer inspection the stamp on these barrels can be recognized as a stylized plant, with the letters 'y' and 'a' placed on either side in a manner that suggests two bunches of grapes. Turning back to Thalos, the warehouse keeper adds stiffly, "Since your men have interfered with perishable goods, I hope you will have the good grace to offer recompense."
[Thalos:]
Nodding slowly, "If nothing of suspicion is found in your warehouse i will be more than willing to recompensate you for the cost of the barrel of wine." he offers this carefully as he knows any agreement he makes with the man will be taken up with his commander. He then looks to the two workers and with his usual charming smile he approaches the man not of numenorean descent but who speaks perfect Adunaic, "You seem to speak rather fluent Adunaic for a man that was not born amoung us..." His words are not accusations but more of an informal inquiry into the birth of this stranger.
Meanwhile the two gaurds pull off the top of the barrel, carefully as so they wont damage the container as to spill wine all over the place. The others are searching through the palletes of stone and timber as if there might be something hidden around or amoung the precious goods.
[Barzag:] "Of course," the warehouse keeper replies, relief plain on his features as he surreptitiously tucks the inventory away from Thalos' sight again. Odd that it did not list wine amongst the warehouse's contents. No protest is registered as the soldiers begin to search the pallets of stone and timber, in any case.
The two workers have been watching the proceedings quietly. The paler-skinned one looks disinterested by the whole affair, but the swarthy-skinned one watches sharp-eyed as the barrel is opened. When Thalos addresses him, he whirls round in obvious surprise, torn lip parting slightly. "I - I thank you," he offers in reply to the comment. "I am here for two years now, as a worker for Ur-ziran." The right side of his mouth curls up a little at this statement.
[Thalos:]
With a tinge of suspicion in his eye he begins walking towards the barrel, motioning the three men to follow him as he silently talks to himself. Formulating plans while each foot hit the ground, finally he is brought to the barrel and looks to one of the soldiers and with a nod towards his hip Thalos asks, "Your sword please, Soldier."
The soldier hands him his sword pommel first grasping it by the crossgaurd and the tip of the blade. His eyes move to Thalos then as the burden of the drawn blade is taken from him, to the swarthy man then back to the barrel of wind as Thalos begins to dip the sword into the wine.
"You did not answer my question Keeper, why is wine not on your inventory list?" Thalos asks simply yet sternly, expecting an answer.
[Barzag:] Warehouse keeper and workers watch Thalos demand the sword. And while the workers make no response, the warehouse keeper certainly does. "What do you think you're doing?" he blusters indignantly. "Do you plan to use that sword on timbers and stone? Or perhaps to duel with the rats? I'll have you know there are no vermin in this place ... at least not many," he adds in an undertone. As the officer slowly dips the sword into the wine, the warehouse keeper lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, I /was/ going to offer that barrel to you and your men, since it's now open ..." he states, but then notices Thalos's stern demeanour, swallows and attempts to answer the final question. "Not on the inventory?" he says in apparent surprise. "I am sure it is - now, let me see ..." Forced to inspect the inventory once again, he merely shakes his head, and says with an insincere smile, "Why, you are right. That idiot clerk must have forgotten to add it - dear me. I'll have words with him about this, you can be sure!" He shakes his head again and tut-tuts as if in disapproval, though there is a sheen of sweat on his brow.
[Thalos:]
He moves the sword in circles and pushes it in until the tip reaches bottom, if it does, reach bottom... searching for something that may be hidden in the dark red liquid which seems to viscously coat the metal of the sword, its owner cringing slightly as to what the wine might be doing to the strength of the metal. Thalos does not reply to one word of the keeper he just sits there feeling around for something other than wine in the barrel.
[Barzag:] If the officer was expecting to find something hidden in the full barrel, he is no doubt disappointed, for the point touches wood without encountering anything else solid in the way. The base must be unusually thick, however, judging by the depth of the sword. The warehouse keeper seems in two minds as to how to respond, but eventually he manages to muster up the nerve to enquire acidly, "And just what are you looking for?"
The swarthy-skinned worker, seeing that all attention is focused on the barrel, surreptitiously begins to edge backward towards the door.
[Thalos:] "Block all exits" Thalos calls out as his leg raises and kicks over the barrell facing towards an open area where no one stands at the moment.
The crimson liquid spreads rapidly over the floor of the warehouse, almost resembling blood. The splash sound resounds from wall to wall, eventually fading into nothingness. He takes the longsword in his hand and begins to pry at the bottom covering to the barrel eventually getting it loose as it falls into his other hand it reveals another wooden plug and a completely dry area a few inches tall between the former barrier and the new revealed one. A scrap of parchment is revealed too with two chachters upon it, nowhere near a complete word, it looks as if it were the corner of a sheet that had gotten ripped.
With swift fell movements he grabs up the piece of paper and then looks towards the keeper with suspicious eyes, "What is this?" he asks in a deep, strong voice staring into the depths of the mans eyes. His hand upon the pommel of the drawn sword still in his right hand.
[Barzag:] The warehouse keeper's shout of protest as Thalos knocks over the barrel quickly fades into silence as he sees what the man is about. And with a sword pointed at him, he has little option but to answer the question. "It - it appears to be a piece of parchment," he volunteers, stating the obvious. "And," there is a noticeable tremor in his voice now, "you appear to know more about the contents of my warehouse than I. I had no idea ..." His voice strengthens a little and he spreads his hands wide as if to indicate the depths of his ignorance.
The swarthy-skinned worker halts as one of the soldiers blocks the exit, and as the barrel is pried apart his amber eyes widen, and he gives a little "ah" of understanding. The labourer turns to face Thalos then, no sign of fear on his features, which are a blank mask. "It is dark now," he says simply, as if the whole issue of the barrel were unimportant, "and there is some stone not unloaded. May we bring it in?"
[Thalos:]
"Yes... yes... you two may go... not to work though, but go to your homes... what are your names before yo leave?" Thalos inquires to the swearthy skinned worker.
[Barzag:] "Barzag ... my name is Barzag," the swarthy labourer answers - few would think to ask him for a surname. "Zimbalak, sir," the other paler-skinned fellow adds, looking quite relieved that whatever this business, he need have no further part in it. The first labourer, Barzag, adds, "What should we do with the stone that is left, then?" His brows are drawn down in a frown now.
[Thalos:]
"Forget about it... and you sir..." his attention switches to the keeper, "You are under arrest." he smiles as he says the last word. He yells to the gaurds posted at the doors, "Let the two workers go, but the warehouse keeper is under arrest." He relaxes slightly looking at the keeper, "And with that... i leave you with in the hands of my men... they will take good care of you... all the way to the prison... Arrest him and lock him in the city prison, bring me the key."
[Barzag:] "Really, sir, I must protest!" the warehouse keeper exclaims, face pale. "I tell you, I know nothing about this ..." He trails off into silence as two soldiers move to his side, ready to quell any resistance. "You can rest assured, you'll hear from the merchant's guild about this!" is the warehouse keeper's only other comment as he looks round his warehouse, where the pooled wine is still spreading, and laps slowly at the feet of a pile of timbers.
The two labourers do not wait to see any more, but leave the building as soon as the exit is clear, and begin to plod slowly up the steep hill towards the town. Once they have reached the top, however, they halt, and after a short exchange of words the swarthy-skinned Barzag continues alone, his pace hurried. Maybe he has gone to inform his master Ureziran of what has happened? Or maybe his errand is a rather different one ...
Participants:
THALOS
Vivid, Warm steel blue eyes examine his surroundings, as if they were a well tempered steel sword. They are deep set and seem to shine as sword would in moonlight flaring with brilliance and youthful energy. He stands about 6'7" even quite a tall man by Numenorean standards, A brave and valiant figure to look upon. His face seems as though it was chisled out of granite itself, a well defined jaw and cheekbones add to this. Upon his head rests soft, well tended black hair flowing as if waves of black silk moved by the slightest breeze. Cut to a medium length, quite often wisps and strands of hair seem to fall to his brow. A strong and proud nose adds to the appearance, while soft red lips finally dispel the illusion that he could be made of granite. His soft tanned skin provides a clue that he is outdoors often, it is smooth and well kept. Penetrated at only one point a scar running across the upper ridge of his left brow down across the bridge of his nose and ending below his right eye.
His body is yet another sight to look upon, wideset shoulders with large arms show that this man possesses the strength to fight. But also his lower body and legs show as if he was a man of agility and quickness. His gaze itself lets you know this man is not devoid of intellegince but rather has a surplus of it. Draped upon his back is a cape of midnight blue, as if a mid-night's sky were brought to life flowing behind him as if it were silk. It shines with soft brilliant white flares as it catches light from the sky, holding it in place on his left chest is the crest of the 8th Host, Belzakhors Host. Under the cloak he wears upon his chest a closely fitted suit of studded leather, the plates of metal fastened so close together it could almost be considered scale mail. As they catch light they glow with an eire color, with a backing of black leather it creates a brilliant combinations. He wears upon his legs a pair of dark blue breeches that fit quite comfortable around his legs they are tucked into high black boots that seem to dully shine with the same color as his leather armor.
Held at his side is a black scabbard decorated by steel knots at the point and two strips running parralell along the edge of the scabbard to where the pommel of the sword lies. A rather simple yet unique design, at the end stands a hollowed out circle which in it lies an 8 pointed star, the symbol of the Longstar family. A leather grip then leads to a brilliantly crafted hand guard in the center of each side lies a brilliant clear stone, looking quite like a diamond. He wears upon his left arm a leather shield with intricate designs and the same 8 pointed star embossed upon the center.
BARZAG
For many, their first impression of Barzag is of a person of little importance in the world. His swarthy skin proclaims him a foreigner to Umbar, one of the race of Men known as Hillmen. At about six feet in height, he is taller than most of his kind, and this is complemented by a strong build; his well-muscled frame and calloused hands show that he is no stranger to hard work. Indeed, his shoulders are slightly stooped as if from carrying heavy loads. A mass of dark hair hangs to just above shoulder level, shadowing his face, and he wears a short beard, usually kept neatly trimmed. It cannot, however, hide this man's main distinguishing feature - a malformed lip, cloven and twisted so that his mouth appears to be set in a perpetual sneer. Above this, his features are evenly balanced - a long, straight nose, and a pair of amber eyes set beneath dark brows, bitterness all too often visible within their depths.
He wears a tunic of dusty blue fabric, which appears to be in fairly good condition still. The sharp-eyed might notice some sort of mark on his upper right arm, although the short sleeve of his tunic has been pulled down as if to conceal this. His trousers are of a dark material, faded now in many places. On his feet are a pair of scuffed leather moccasins. And he has one more item of clothing - clearly a valued possession. A grey woolen cloak, old but still serviceable, protects his form in inclement weather, and is carried rolled up and slung across the back at other times.