Featuring: Nihli, Nosin as Beion, and Bavor (all Erebor Dwarves)

Greathall of Thrain the Old (Mazarbul Thingstead)
A long, rather bare looking hall, with all the plainness and quiet architecture of the dwarves that inhabit it and call it home. This is the main hall of the Mazarbul Clan, with personal residences branching off from it in regular intervals, and though the hall is always busy, and is filled with things of learning and lore, it is hardly a well decorated chamber. The stonework is simple yet complete, leaving no surface uncut or unlit by the many lights that burn here. Wardens stand at the rear entrance to the gate, as well as the door to the Chamber of Mazarbul, more for greeting and directing guests than guarding, though they look to be more than competent when it comes to the handling of their weapons.
Contents:
Bavor (IC Khazad), Noisin (IC Khazad), and Nihli (IC Khazad)
Obvious exits:
Sandstone Arch (NorthEast) leads to Greathall of Thrain II.
Oak Door (West) leads to Agarhaz's Chambers.
Steel Portal (North) leads to Chamber of Mazarbul.
Long Tunnel (Southwest) leads to Clan Mazarbul Gate.

Bavor(#25001POeA+c)
This individual is a short, stocky figure by human standards at just over four feet in height and about one-fourth that size in width, making him either a short man, a tall hobbit, or a dwarf. Yes, a dwarf: that seems logical, given his dimensions, as well as his beard (rather long, it would seem, reaching just down to waist, forked in the middle and braided from there down). And his eyes... rather dull, of a greyish hue. As for this person's hair, it is either a light brown or a dark blonde, being the same shade as his beard, and straight, falling down to just below his ears. His nose is wide, the bottom of which being partially obscured by a bushy brown (or blonde...) moustache, beneath which being a full pair of lips, beneath which being a beard-covered chin. His skin is a ruddy brownish-red hue.

As for the attire worn by this dwarven figure, they consist of what would be a greyish-green knee-length tunic with sleeves down to the elbows and a rather simple-looking leather belt (the buckle isn't too bad, though... it's just iron, but it's very well-made, reflecting light nicely) supporting it. A portion of his legs are visible above a pair of large leather boots.

Noisin
Noisin is a strong a well-built khazad. He stands about four-in-a-half feet tall. His dark red hair is long and kept in a pony tail, it reaches down past his shoulders. The khazad's beard (the same hue as his hair) reaches down to his belt, it is singed at the ends of most of his hairs. His eyes are large and brown. A burn scar, long since healed is found over the khazad's left eye.

Noisin's clothing is simplistic, over his shoulder's he wears a hooded crimson cloak. His shirt is long sleeved and is medium brown in hue; under his shirt you can se the signs of chain mail armor, especially around the neck. His britches are made of wool and are comfortable, their color is black. Holding Noisin's britches up is an unadorned belt. His boots reach to his knees and are made of light brown leather, they are well made and well used. Over his hands are black leather gloves, which fit tightly and allow for complete control, as if they were not there at all.

Nihli
You see a dwarf of shorter than average stature. He has a long brown hair which is tied back neatly into a queue. His beard, is tied into two seperate braids both done up into intricate weaves. At the bottom of each weave is a terra-cotta bead.

His clothing is plain. He wears simple leather shoes on his feet with hard leather soles. His trousers are made of a simple brown cotton, and show signs of being sat on all together to much, as well as having crumbs of food seemingly perputually stuck in the folds. His tunic is a faded green with some threadbare spots. The cuffs are stained with ink as well as the elbovws and forarms.

His face is distinct from his clothing as it is clean and bright. His eyes seem to be constantly searching everything around him, giving off a strange sense of intelligence.

Middle-earth date is:
Trewsday, Day 19 of August.
Execute the +TIMEFRAME command for year information.

Real time is: 19:35:06 MST on Fri Feb 23 2001.

***** Erebor Time & Weather Service ******************************************
** Real time is: Fri Feb 23 19:34:57 2001, GMT -7 **
Elendor time is: Midnight (0000) on Trewsday, 19 August 3022.
In the outer world's clear Summer sky, The waxing gibbous moon drifts among the stars fair unto a gleaming ship.
****************************************** Erebor Time & Weather Service *****

~~~

The room is quite quite, and hardly anybody is around except a couple of warders, and Nihli. He stands next to a collum overlooking a map which is sprawled out on a table. He occasionaly takes a ink pen out of a jar, and marks something on the map.

Leaning on the wall of the Thrain's hall by the steel and glass portal to the Chamber of Mazarbul is Bavor, a small bag held under his arm as he reclines. Now and then he shifts from one side to the other, looking about the hall admiring the austere architecture of the Mazarbul thingstead.

Simplistic stone walls make up the room as their arches peer into it to reside as silent watchers over the rooms afairs. As the hussle and bustle of the evening wears on a table of warders and a mapmaker work under the light of a torch. The bearer of this torch is Beion. The flame atop the large shaft slowly but surely wears down its defenses as it has over the past hour or so dwindled away to only half its original height.

Moving to add more light to the situation and also to see for himself, he askes so what are you doing now Nihli?

Looking with distaste at teh torch Nihli adressed the new comer, "This map, here, is quite old, it was orignally my fathers. I have done much work on it, but it seems to be outdatd now. Most of this info seems to be quite out of date. I am planning a trip so that I can make a new one." he moves his hand over the map, pointing to sevral areas where he has made remarks and circles "This is my main planned path."

Beion nod his head quickly as if understanding, the newest of the warders as he has been stuck holding the bloody torch, much to his shagrin.His eyes follow the mapmaker's hand to and fro and then he speaks again. "I see.." he says, "over the recent mining sites and some of the new halls." On the back wall the flames dance upon it as moving shadows from dwarves can be seen as large black blotches. "I wounder how far the miner's have dug... clan Barazin has dug much since this was made I am sure."

The map displays an area from the misty mountains, to the Iron hills, from the cold moutains to mordor.

Pushing himself forward off the wall, Bavor walks slowly toward Nihli and Beion.

"Aye, that we have, if you don't mind my butting in," says the miner-Dwarf. "We're always at work in Oakenshield' greathall." He nods a greeting and smiles. "A map, eh?" he asks as he comes closer. "I do love maps. Got one or two with me in my bag here."

Looking over a Bavor, Nihli beams, "I love maps also, It's what I do." he proudly pounds his chest "I have recently done some maps of the tunnels, there somewhere around here." He reaches into his scroll case and begins to search through it.

"Ah, very nice..." acknowledges Bavor as he looks at the map on the table. "Aye, I can't say I'm a mapmaker myself, though I do have a collection of one or two." He places his bag on the table and opens it, removing a sheet of parchment and unrolling it.

"Take this one for example," he says, placing it on the table by the bag. "Not very well-drawn compared to yours, I suppose, but it suited my father's purposes as a merchant."

The map shows a portion of western Eriador: from the Bree-land in the east, Forochel in the north, the Baranduin in the south, and the Sea in the west. A good amount of detail has been put into the areas of Kheled-dum and the Nan-i-Naugrim in the northern range of the Ered Luin, and the Shire and the Buckland a number of miles to the southeast.

Looking down at the map Nihli nods, he comments "this is a good map non the less. I was thinking of going over there some day, This map is more than likly out of date." Nihli looks closly at the map obviously facinated at it markings.

"Aye," nods Bavor, taking the map and rolling it up again, "it is. My father left the merchant trade years ago when he removed from Thorin's halls in the west to Sigin-Taragathol. Did a bit of trade with the halflings, much to my chagrin... I am not overly fond of the Little Folk and their pipeweed. At any rate, he hasn't checked his maps for accuracy in over half a century."

"Aye a trading party had a run in with those sly halflings not to long ago." THe warder breaks his silence, "Sir Jorin himself was throne into their dungeons I believe, I do not know all the details of the matter bu--." Another much wiser warder interupts him. "Jorin, a cook and another feller or two were put into the lockholes. The cook apparently attacked one of their 'sherrifs' as they are called and go the lot of them introuble." Beoin's face turns red and he feels slightly ashamed for not knowing all the details of the trip. The other warder's look down upon the youngone,.. a sniker in their eyes and speckled in their grins.

Bavor frowns as he places his map back in his bag. "Yes, I see. I never liked the halflings. 'Grocers bobbing and puffing on the mat,' as one of our people so astutely described them. And the weed they produce is just terrible. All I care for the Shire... is their wine. Old Vinyards 1374... wonderful drink." He smiles as he picks his bag off the table.

Nodding as Bavor puts away the map, Nihli mentions "I was thinking of heading over that area, that map must need some touch ups. If I could borrow it maybe, so that I can get to know the lay of that area?" he looks at Bavor with his searching eyes. "I could give you something return perhaps?"

Beoin looks about, and he fingers his beard, twisting the strands of coarse hair into a single strand and then untwisting them, a small nervous grin is upon his face as he and the rest of the warders are off to do some other buissness. They all begin to march out in an orderly fashion a path is made for the memmbers of the kings army as they leave.

"Ah, I would not mind at all..." says Bavor, opening the bag again. "I doubt it should be of much use to you today, unless you plan to visit the Shire or our kin in far-off Kheled-dum. But I should be glad to do you a favor, good sir." He places the scroll on the table before Nihli with a smile. "And for a return gift... well, perhaps a bottle of Dorwinion wine or, better, Old Vinyards, if you visit the Rhun or the hobbit land.

[Nihli] Takes the map gingerly and unrolls it and gives a cursory look. He then re-rolls it and places it carefully in a case.