West Gate(#5535Rnto)
A large hedge fences Bree in to the west. Running to and from the hedge is the
Great East Road. Set off on the north side of the Road is a small lodge. Where
the Road meets the hedge a great gate has been set. The gate is open, allowing
travelers and residents alike to pass through the hedge with ease. To the east,
Bree-hill looms large at hand.
The hour is nearing midnight,
and the road beyong the town lies pitch and black- no light from the stars nor
moon can break through the thick mass of cloud that blanket the sky. From the
cloud falls a light drizzle of rain, creating puddles and mud on the ground
far below. The light from the few lanterns hanging about the town at this hour
becomes misty and distorted, and casts unusual shadows upon the ground.
Outside the town, the darkness shifts and a figure appears to materialise from
nowhere. A cloak and hood cover her frame and her head, so she is strangely
without any distinguishing features about her. A trail of smoke spirals up and
out of the hood, however- soon dissipating into the chilly night air. Her footsteps
squelch in the mud of the road as she approaches the gate.
There stands, just inside
the open gate, a thickly cloaked man whose shape is marked by the lumps of a
well-fed belly. Terribly cold is he; this is shown by sleeved arms buried underneath
the the flaps of the cloak; the arms stiff and unmoving, and drawn into the
form tightly; and chattering feet that step frantically about in an effort to
bring warmth to frigid legs. Puffs of moisture emerge from a heavy beard that
is lightly dappled by rain drops, the puffs coming in scattered bursts created
by a quivering body. Large brown eyes move about in a wandering fashion, as
if seeking amusement. He is clearly one of the guards, standing gate duty at
this time.
With the sound of footsteps, the amusement, or at least a break in the monotony
comes. The rounded guard shifts his feet with little haste to the gate, and
peers between rungs that adorn its top. His eyes struggle to find the source
of the steps, and indeed do so. "Halt," he says dreerily, as if it
was a word that caused his bones to ache with fatigue, "State yer business
comin' to town this time of night."
One hand moves to withdraw
a cigarette, presumably from a mouth located under the hood. The end glows faintly
red. The head tilts, and a cloud of smoke wafts into the air. For a moment there
is no reply, though the figure clad in dark grey continues walking. There is
a haughtiness in the stride- a fearlessness that shouldn't be apparent in one
walking outside the gate so late at night.
Finally she comes to a halt, and the light of the lanterns are briefly reflected
in the eyes hidden beneath. She takes a long draw of the cigarette, then blows
the smoke toward the gate. "Can a simple Bree-woman not take a leisurely
stroll outside the gates when she cannot sleep?" Still there is that hautiness
in the voice- a certain velvet and satin quality that causes her words to lilt
lazily- drifting from one syllable to the next.
The comment is followed
by a long silence broken only by the sounds of frequent rain drops splashing
into nearby puddles. The smoke from the cigarette is tracked by the eyes of
the guard momentarily; the eyes then returning to the woman. "No Bree-woman
I knows seeks such leisurely strolls in times like these, and at this time of
night," the guard grumbles. He shifts back and forth on his feet, trying
to warm himself still. "State yer name, miss."
<Newbie> Nomad a guest player using SimpleMU has connected.
Beneath the hood, lips smirk, and the eyes grow cold- the stare doesn't shift
from the careful study of the guard. Of course, her speach is intoned with the
perfect accent of a woman of Bree- one who has lived there her whole life, in
fact. It would be a large task to copy the accent and be as accurate as hers...
"Then obviously you know me not- and that's no surprise, I hardly think
you can know everyone in town..." A pause, a step forward, a draw on the
cigarette, and the smoke is sent pluming into the face of the guard. Now her
face can be seen- lips twisted up in a smile without humour. "Scarlet Greythorn.
And I'd hope that you're not thinking of locking me outside Bree on a night
like this- a woman, of Bree itself." The words 'woman' and 'Bree' are accentuated.
Although the smoke wafts about the guard's face, it appears to cause no discomfort, other than a narrowing of the guard's eyes. And the narrowing is followed by an undue delay; the guard watching the woman tiredly; as if making a point without words. Then he speaks, "Southfarthing you blow at me is it?" The words are plainly spoken. "A woman of Bree I make you. Fair enough. But I have orders, you see. No passerbys after curfew, without an inspection for arms. You'll have to come with me to the guardhouse briefly, where I'll have you logged." He reaches forward now, working to draw the gate open, and allow the woman in.
A shrug rolls across the
shoulders, though there is little displayed on the features, the eyes flicker
quickly aside- the only indication that could suggest her brain is firing quickly
to think up the next part of her plan. Then, she nods her head once. "How
very kind of you, sir. And here was I, thinking I was doomed to remain outside
the gate in the rain until morning. Please allow me to dispose of this,"
She takes another draw of the cigarette, "And I shall be with you in just
a moment." With just a whisper of her cloak, she steps by the wall and
bends. There is a quiet sizzle, and one foot moves forward to tread at the ground.
Momentarily she remains still- or at least still-looking, for anyone looking
at her from the gate and then she turns with a warm smile and moves to enter.
The guard holds the gate open, with a look of impatience on his face; his eyes
not even watching the woman now; instead looking into the sky absently. He lets
out a brief cough which sounds awfully loud in the quiet of the night.
Trhough the gate she sidles,
the hood tumbling back from her head as she turns to glance over her shoulder
at the Gatekeeper, taking long, careful strides forward into Bree- confident
smile playing on those lips. "Come now, Breeguard, focus on the job- there's
nothing in the sky, but rain, and, clouds." The last words are almost sing-song-
taunting.
Long distance to Naime: Scarlet grins. "Thanks!
The guard's response is to close the gate clumsily, creating a loud wooden rattling
noise. He pivots as soon as it is closed, turning in the direction of the woman.
He struggles to shuffle in the mud behind her, and makes a cumbersome gesture
with a thick arm, pointing toward the guardhouse, "Up there, miss."
"Why of course, sir." The voice is smoky- each word spoken carefully and with that strange confidence that dominates her stride. Something in her glance could be considered sultry in certain parts of the world, or maybe she's just playing games. In fact, that's probably more likely than any other explanation. "It must be... thrilling.. to be a Breeguard." There is no belief in her voice- she is taunting him again; searching for anything to set him off. She steps up toward the guardhouse.
But the guard is either to fatigued to respond, or immune for some other reason. He seems unable to overtake the woman at first, but musters what energy he can to move himself passed her. He indeed reaches the door to the building first, if only by a step, and reaches inside of his cloak to withdraw a heavy set of iron keys. He fumbles in the semi-darkness to find the right one, and then clatters it into the key hole. A loud clicking sound follows, and the door is drawn open to bathe the two in warm light from inside. The guard backs away from the door, gesturing politely, if reluctantly, for the woman to proceed first. "Warmer inside. It'll be brief."
You open the door
and step into the lodge.
Gatekeeper's Lodge(#27956Rnt)
This sparsely furnished lodge is where off duty gatekeepers spend their spare
time while not watching over the township of Bree. A few beds are neatly arrayed
against the far eastern wall near the large oaken weapons rack. A single desk
sits near the northern wall. Papers are scattered over the top of the desk in
a haphazard fashion. The room smells musty and small piles of trash are deposited
in the room's four corners.
The guard shuffles toward the desk located in the far corner, which is covered in papers. Once there, he removes his cloak and hangs it upon a nearby rack. He then turns toward the woman, a mild grimace on his face, extending his arms outwardly, "Yer cloak, miss."
The woman pauses
a moment- holding back so he can open the door. Then she slips in behind him.
"It's very... cosy." Arrogance again, and she smirks lightly. But
quickly she is becoming bored of these games- like a small child poking a dog
and getting no response. With a shrug of her shoulders, the cloak drops and
slides into his arms. It is soaking wet- it's amazing she's not showing signs
of freezing to death.
Pressing his lips together, the guard examines the woman's form, as if searching
for something. He does this in a nervous fashing, his eyes darting about hastily,
and somewhat routinely. The "inspection" is hastily done.
The guard nods once, "Alright. Now a few questions, then you'll be on yer
way." He gestures at the cloak, "I'll hang that up, if you want it
to dry out a big in the meantime."
Scarlet has already moved to make herself quite at home- inspecting the weapon's rack, and sitting up on the desk so slender, spidery fingers can skirt over the sheets of paper scattered there. "Oh, please. Don't stand there holding it on my behalf." A dazzling smile, though again, one that's lacking in any humour or hint of warmth. "So, questions, sir. Ask away- I wish to return and sleep."
The guard looks unamusedly at the woman as she sits on top of the desk. He walks over to her, roughly grabbing some papers upon which she is partially sitting, and yanking them out from under her. He walks over to a smaller table slowly, hunched over from coldness and fatigue, and places the parchment atop the smaller table. Grabbing a quill pen, he prepares to write, and asks, "Your reason for leaving Bree, miss."
The papers are somewhat damp now from where she was sitting on them. An appologetic shrug follows, and one leg is hooked over the other as she leans back onto one hand- appearing totally in control of the situation. At the question, she sighs- as if she's had to answer this question a thousand times already. "I told you before- I couldn't sleep. When I cannot sleep, I walk. Generally when it's the middle of the night I'm not thinking, therefore, I accidentially walked out of the gate."
The guard scrawls
with disinterest, as if summarizing the words on paper. The writing shifts higher
on the paper, and the guard mutters, "Scarl . . . Greyth .. . " A
loud clearing of the throat occurs, and he resumes, "Reason for returning,"
asking the question as if its answer was not already provided.
Scarlet appears to be thinking a moment, and then, as if to humour him, replies;
"Wolves. Several of them. So I ran away. They were going to eat me. You
know how wolves are."
Naime pages: should i use he looks <description) or my name
Again the scrawling, as if he is taking down the entire fabrication. No expression crosses his face, although his head tilts to look at the woman with an obvious face of displeasure. Nevertheless, the writing completes as if to suggest her words were written down as stated. He then asks tiredly, "Encounter any creates, little folk, or big folk, other than wolves? If so, what or who?" The drone is tiresome.
Scarlet smirks,
the lips part. "No."
Another question, "Anyone else in yer party?"
Scarlet frowns. "Party? No."
And then, another silly, counter-intuitive question, "Did all members of yer party make it back unharmed?"
There is a moment
of silence. Scarlet fishes in a pocket, draws out a cigarette and lights it.
"Hmmm." She draws in, deeply, and savours the feeling for a moment.
As she lets out the breath- smoke pluming toward the ceiling. "Yes. Three
of them were wounded, and two were killed. An unfortunate tragedy. I had to
leave those injured behind. The wolves ate their legs, you see."
Again, frantic, tired scrawling takes place, accompanied with the same disapproving
glance at the woman. The penmanship must be horrendous.
Nevertheless, the litany continues, obviously the creation of some bored middle-manager
in the rank and file of the local guards, "Names of the wounded; names
of the killed; last known location; names of the wolves."
Again the woman
sighs, tapping ash onto the floor. "Unfortunately I didn't gather the names
of the wounded, nor of those killed. I think the wolves, however, refered to
themselves as Bert, Ernie, and Gertrude. We were having a lovely conversation,
and then like that, they turned on us. Shame, really, what the drink does to
you." She shakes her head sadly, then draws again from the cigarette.
"May I make an oberservation, sir?"
The question is answer with a rapid gesture of an open-palmed hand, as if to
silence the woman. The guard scrawls rapidly, now muttering to himself, "Bert.
. . . Errrniiiee . .. .. Geeertruuuude." He stops, dropping the pen momentarily
and shaking his tired hand. He turns now toward the woman, belatedly responding
to her question, "Observation?"
The woman smokes, as if forgetting she'd even asked a question in the first place. After some time, she glances up, then smirks, kindly (if that's possible). "You look bored. Are you certain this is the right occupation for a fine, upstanding man such as yourself? Surely if I was in your poisition and had an opportunity to assail young women entering and leaving the town, I'd show a bit more.. enthusiasm... Tell me, is there anything you can think of that would.. improve.. your working conditions?"
Creases in the corners of the man's eyes. "Eh?" is his only response. He does not stay put long, wandering past the woman toward her cloak, which he draws back from the coat rack. He shuffles back toward the woman, holding the cloak out with a single outstretched hand. "Conditions, you say?"
"It's hard to explain.." A pause, suggesting it's actually a lot easier than she'd like to make out. "I'm not much of a business woman myself, though you look like you're an intelligent man..." Another pause- plans are formulating in her mind, by the looks of things. "Well, I can't suggest anything in particular right now, but if you're interested in a business venture... I'll leave you to think about it.. perhaps come visit you in a few days time to see if you're interested in knowing more. And perhaps by then I'll have forumlated the venture in stone. It is but a small idea in my mind at the moment, I'm afraid."
The man continues to hold out the cloak, appearing to only half-listen to the proposal, but his answer does not match his demeanor. "Business you say? Come by here ya will?"
Finally, she reaches out to take the cloak with the spare hand, draping it across her legs as she continues to smoke. "Business indeed. And I'm sure there'll be profit for us both. Or even if you don't go into business with me, I know people, who know people... though perhaps those business might be somewhat less... legitimate than others. I don't know if this would.. bother you..." The woman slides off the table- drpping the end of the cigarette and grinding it into the floor with her boot.
The guard's eyes watch the weed being ground into the floor, and a poorly concealed look of displeasure crosses his face, which is quickly erased. He shuffles back over to the rack now, removing his own cloak tiredly. "Shifts nearing its end, thank goodness. Awfully cold night." He makes his way slowly toward the front door, talking along the way, "We can talk about this again if you like. I'm here most nights on gate duty; and alone as you can see. I'd be interested in hearing more of what you've got in mind." He pauses, gesturing toward the door, which he now opens, letting in a blast of cold wet air, "Now, I think we're done."
A cruel smirk
spreads quickly across the features of the woman, and she throws her cloak over
her shoulders, drawing up the hood a moment later. "Glad to hear it. I'll
be around when I find a moment." She steps toward the door- looks him over
quickly, then ndos her head. "Until then, Breeguard." And she steps
through into the darkness- soon dissolving again behind a curtain of rain.