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Post by Vanitypirate on Jul 21, 2017 10:51:33 GMT -8
This is for establishments within the Hamlet that don't fall into any other of the thread categories.
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Post by TheSilentRevenant on Jul 21, 2017 13:42:29 GMT -8
//The Heir's Manor//
Sebastian walks up and knocks on the door to the Heir's Manor. He then steps back and awaits to be let in.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jul 21, 2017 16:17:11 GMT -8
[Person's inside Sicherlein's Hideout, start your posts as follows:]
=SICHERLEIN'S HIDEOUT=
/Sicherlein/
The Peacekeeper eyed Tenita's fingers from behind her spidery iron veil, scoffing, as she bit at the corner of her mouth in some excited anticipation; though she sighed and shook her head, looking ahead of herself as she began to pace, slowly, from one end of the room to the other.
Sicherlein had never held those of such a lowly drawl in high esteem. Especially when they seemed to revel in it, she was glad for her faceplate, hiding the venemous leers behind a shadowy, port-holed mask.
"Mein liebes Kind--" She paused her gait early, looking pointedly to Tenita as she clapped her hands together and bowed forward emphatically. Speaking slowly, as though to a child.
"--it is no consequence to me, that your itty bitty imagination be so, so restricted to your kin."
She flourished the easy rebuttal as she smoothed out the leather on her gloves, gently swiping away what residue might still be on her palms with easy, graceful motions. Not too unlike an ax'ly pendulum. There was a cruel bubble of a giggle at that, and she shrugged, resuming her pacing
"Bitte, bitte, I di-gress."
She walked with an easy, swaying, tempting motion; a touch more emphasized than her natural gifts would need, the only hint that there was calculation even there, in her simple gait. There was the smallest looks of interest from Sicherlein, as Tenita procured that expensive looking whetstone and satchel. It lingered, and a glimmer of greed shined in the holes of her helm, in the small twitch in her fingers as she slipped them into her pockets.
"Apology: Accepted!" She piped in, though she acknowledged it with little more than the smallest of nods.
"As for armor... Vvell, I believe I have a roll or two of good burlap, a spare vest... Err... That should... be all." She hummed, tapping her chin as she looked to one of the three crates in the room.
"The Blacksmith here is also very good with his hands; a good eye for sharpening, restoring, patching." She nodded, her head bobbing left and right, before sighing.
"A bit expensive though." Sicherlein mused, as she brought her hands to fiddle with small boxes of substance in her pockets.
"Ah; I apologize too, for my haste... Mein Vater taught me that--" She cleared her throat, pausing her pacing to square her shoulders and mimick a more masculine demeanour and tone; one that would prove to be more prepubescent than anything.
"--Idle handsch ar ze Devils play-hk-groundt." She played at an all too thick and exaggerated Germanic accent, as she wagged a finger scoldingly, before shrugging and pulling out a small finger-sized dagger from her hat, fidgeting with either end as she presumed her pacing, cocking her head to one side for a moment in a shrug.
"Plus, I am eager to get myself some coin, keep myself useful." She spake with a little levity, but was ultimately swayed by some innermost pang of sadness, that was quickly squashed as she began to idly toss the curved finger-dagger in the air, catching it to pass the time.
"Ah--" She paused, looking to Siegelinde, noting her helmet with a nod: catching the dagger at last, shooting her a thumbs up before slipping the dagger away again.
"-- Yes! Ja! It is good, very good. Smart." She affirmed with a bubble of laughter and a sigh as she apped her brow and assumed to sit on the crate she'd opened again.
"Mmm, the Social Standarts? I do not know... It seems, you are what you make yourself. There are no... ties, all merit and history here." She nodded respectably, as she pinched at the hem of her thigh-high boots.
"It is good."
//
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Post by relentless on Jul 21, 2017 16:27:26 GMT -8
=SICHERLEIN'S HIDEOUT=
The barbaric girl winced visibly, only slight, at Sicherleins jab. Though the woman was somewhat intimidating... words still seemed to bite the deepest, breaking down her walls quick. Though, they were quickly rebuilt as shown by her face returning back to a solemn state. "Mm... a good wash of these furs, and they'll be good to go, 'ust need a bit of hardwork and hot water outta that forge." Tenita stated quickly, attempting to replace herself from the conversation as she worked on her axe blades. She striked across the blade with a temper, not that of recent affairs, but one that seemed long overdue. The grind of whetstone, at least every four seconds, sounded off. The strokes across the edge of her left axe upon both sides were quick, yet firm. Eventually, she moved onto her other axe, after taking a brief pause to take a drawn out sip from her coffee, placing it more subtly on the bedside table next to her, before continuing onto her next axe as the other two conversed, content with staying out of it. |
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Post by Shinzon on Jul 21, 2017 16:55:37 GMT -8
=SICHERLEIN'S HIDEOUT=
Damn it, I really don't need that now, thought the knight as she stared at Sicherlein's every move, the calculated and graceful gestures captivating her. She hurriedly put her helmet on as to hide her expression, conscious that it was surely getting redder by the minute. It was just great; after the brash and quite direct barbarian, she now had the opposite, a subtle, witty, and quite level-headed (although shady) fellow German. It really couldn't get any worse for her mind; two opposite sides of a coin, both quite entrancing in their own manner, although vastly different. She almost didn't register the sharp jab their host made to her drinking companion; but she did wince as she heard it, turning to look at Tenita and moving her hair slightly in her direction. Tough as she seemed to be, she still felt a pang of guilt shooting in her gut at the stabbing words, and in this moment, she hoped her helmet was still off, so she could give her a sympathetic look. Still, she turned back toward Sicherlein as she started talking once more, frowning at the overly-done German accent. This woman had no problem speaking English so far, and so she only took this as another way to mock her English friend, which made her feel even worse. Still, some useful insight for this place was provided, and she was thankful for it. This village was so different from the rest of the places she had been around, and the fact that family had no hold here took a sigh of relief out of the redhead. Finally, some escape from her shameful heritage... or, at least, she could hope so. "Say", she finally said after a moment of silence, observing the both of the other people in the hideout, fumbling around with her pouches. "Sicherlein. Would you know where to find something here?" Sieglinde doubted she'd like the answer, but it was, after all, one of the crucial points of her presence there. "I need to find some items who belonged to this man", she finally dared to say after a pause, uncrumbling a piece of paper and handing it over to her new acquaintance. It was a carefully drawn portrait of a man, easily in his early 30s. While it was all done in black and white, it was very accurate; the scars across his face, the messy, yet quite short hair, the coat and the generally somber look emanating him... and, finally, at the bottom of the page, the words Silas Trask, along with a huge bounty for his capture, dead or alive. "I know he died here", she said with certainty. "I saw his grave, and heard the rumors. But I know not of what became of his trinkets, and that is very important to me." Stopping for a moment, she inhaled deeply, and slapped her hand across her armor. "I trust you would have a way to find and reclaim it. Am I mistaken, Fraü Sicherlein?" |
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jul 23, 2017 0:22:11 GMT -8
//The Heir's Manor// Sebastian walks up and knocks on the door to the Heir's Manor. He then steps back and awaits to be let in. /Osvald/ The door opened, and for a moment, the dower features and all too pristine manner of the man's morion helmet and breastplate glimmered, almost brighter than the grey sun in the looming sky. His icy blue eyes and tanned skin a vicious contrast, as dark hair was pulled into a short ponytail at the base of his scalp. "Hm, Good evening?" He asked, licking his lips, speaking with an Arabic drawl. "What is it; what do you want, hm?" He scoffed, looking the man head to toe, impressing himself and standing tall in the frame of the door, his helm touching the top of the two and a half meter doorway. |
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Post by TheSilentRevenant on Jul 23, 2017 10:48:50 GMT -8
[The Heir's Manor]/Osvald/ The door opened, and for a moment, the dower features and all too pristine manner of the man's morion helmet and breastplate glimmered, almost brighter than the grey sun in the looming sky. His icy blue eyes and tanned skin a vicious contrast, as dark hair was pulled into a short ponytail at the base of his scalp. "Hm, Good evening?" He asked, licking his lips, speaking with an Arabic drawl. "What is it; what do you want, hm?" He scoffed, looking the man head to toe, impressing himself and standing tall in the frame of the door, his helm touching the top of the two and a half meter doorway. Sebastian, politely tilting his head back, gently tugging back his hood to reveal a majority of his face. So he and the towering man may lock eyes, Sebastian then reaches into his coat and pulls out an recently opened envelope which bears the Heir's wax seal. "I was summoned to receive my papers for expeditionary work from the Heir. The name is Sebastian Kurt." |
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Jul 24, 2017 11:43:30 GMT -8
=The Heir's Home[exterior]=/Osvald/ He rose a thin, and largely shadowed, brow at the man as he snapped out his hand and plucked up the papers with the intensity of a hawk snatching a mouse. "Hm... Se-bas-tien Kuuurt." He muttered, reading it aloud, as he huffed and shrugged, nodding as he stowed the papers after having slipped them out, only just to read that small snippet. "Hm... Yes; O.K. . Go inside: up the long stairs, big, tall doors. Do not get lost." He informed curtly, as he stepped to the side and settled his arms a bit, though still had them crossed over his chest as he jerked his head into the now open doors. \\ =The Heir's Home[interior]= Ariel responded to the nod of the guard with a nod of his own. "Thank you good sir." He said with a kind tone and proceeded to enter the building, only to be interrupted by an angry looking man who stormed off from the now open door. Ariel looked back at the guard and gave him a raised questioning brow, then continued his long delayed entrance to the Heir's manor, climbing the few steps that lay in front of the door. Within the entrance chamber of the Heir's modest home, its strainful attempts to be as opulent and imperial as his once venerable house was, was all too apparent. Oils and balms to preserve the gloss of ashwood glimmered like the gossamer of a chitinous beast, seeming to writhe and bleed before his very eyes, as various antiquities; busts, crests, parchments, and paintings hung lavishly across his homestead's halls. The scent of the Dungeons still sloughing off their surfaces, for some, more literally than others. Most were in states of disrepair, showing a queer sort of beauty only to be found in the Darkest Estate. Damaged goods made wonderous and dolorous. Yet, what would manifest as Ariel's goal would be a long straight stretch of stairs, the steps leading with only slightly imbalanced plateaus; indeed, it seemed more a trick of the mind, how the long stair-case seemed to warble and skew towards the tall, skinny doors what could only be the Heir's Study. There was a crack, that seemed more like a cut, which divided the doors; seeming to bleed a reddish orange glow, the light failing to reflect off the gossamer surfaces of the hall. Indeed, the sparse candles set about scones and chandeliers in the entrance hall seemed to offer little alleviation to the oppressive dark pervading the sanctuary. Still, the Heir's Office lay before him, just up the disheveled steps. He need but approach.
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Post by TheSilentRevenant on Jul 24, 2017 13:19:35 GMT -8
[Heir's Home (Interior)]
Sebastian nods "Thank you kindly." and pulls his hood back over to its original place as he enters the Manor. He follows the man's directions and re-adjusts bits of his sleeve and of portions of his coat as he climbs up the long stairwell and re-observing his surroundings. Once he arrives at the tall doors, his long strides closing the distance between the door and the stairs quite easily. His footsteps would sound like an echo of a muffled chime being swallowed up in the cavernous depths. He politely tips his hood towards the person he swiftly walked past. He would lightly knock on the tall doors of the office and would take a step back, clasping his hands together behind his back.
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Post by 🐴Can🗡️ on Jul 25, 2017 15:03:16 GMT -8
The inside of the manor was dark, maybe even so much as oppressively dark. And all those damaged antiquities... Oh my. Father would hate to see these in such a condition. Ariel thought, reflecting on his father's hobby of collecting antiquities and all manner of rare items. Those were the good times.
While Ariel was inspecting the interior of the manor, a hooded figure swiftly passed by him, giving him a polite gesture as they did so. He felt he ought to do something similar in reply, but the figure had already started going up the steps without looking back. This place surely gets many visitors. He thought as he started going up as well, albeit at a much slower pace than the figure; being careful not to trip on the slightly, and sometimes significantly, asymmetric steps of the stairs. Once he was up there, he stood behind the figure, not saying anything, just waiting for a voice informing them to enter the room, so that he could do the same once the person in front of him was finished with their own affair.
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Post by TheSilentRevenant on Jul 25, 2017 15:57:30 GMT -8
Sebastian's hood would gently shift to the right, as he turns his head slightly towards the sound of the footsteps pleasantly bounding up in a slow, more measured rhythm. He unclasps his hands and reclasps them together in front of him, near his belt. He begins to think and process his observations and mentally begins to deduce who is behind him, based on what he noticed was able to glean from the person's scents, physical ticks, clothes, etc.
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Post by TheSilentRevenant on Jul 30, 2017 11:25:45 GMT -8
Whilst Sebastian continues to contemplate what type of person stands behind him, he twiddles his thumbs, hidden by his clasped hands. He also clenches and unclenches his toes within his boots, so though his facial expression isn't showing how growingly excited Sebastian is to get back to work.
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Aug 2, 2017 9:29:29 GMT -8
=The Heir's Home=
The crack in the door, aglow with some firey orange glow, nigh shut at the disturbance made from their arrival; much more, their knocking. It bent inward, slightly, in recoil before it flexed back to its previous state of tantalizing openedness.
There was a long winded sigh and breath, and a soft hiss of steam escaping tightly clenched teeth as the glow dimmed to some more earthly shade and a distant muttering, barely above a whisper in the breeze, slipped through the crack in the door.
"Enter."
It said simply, as the door seemed to creak open, though no sound came from its hinges.
Indeed, there was only deep silence as the door opened to reveal an ever grand study; a long rug of black, red, and ivory leading up to a darkly hued table. To the right being a set of seats and cushions and tables, befitting of the hearthfire which emanated that strongest glow, the very same that had bled through the crack in the door.
Before them was that dark study, and chair; and silhouette of a man sitting in its cushions. All wreathed in unfathomable dark, only the vaguest of outlines gave shape to the shadows, thanks to that distant hearthfire.
A large, imperial and gothic window stretched high and up to the ceiling; all manner of notes and diagrams and studies pinned to it in an estudious curtain. Words, letters... symbols both familiar and archaic seemed to meld together into indescribable monstrosities of attempted logic and knowledge. A vicious, rampant study. Maps were strewn about that window and around the table, which too boasted its own display of shapes. Equally foreign and familiar: a skull? yet the forhead was too tall, and eyes too large. A feather? What was black as a raven's but purplish in hue and, indeed, at the length of a man's arm. And a statue of twisted veiny-designs: circular mouths without teeth etched on the inside of a hook that made the general shape of the table-ware.
The figure stared at the two men, or so they could assume. For no eyes glimmered in the longsome light of the hearthfire, only gems and baubles about the neck and fingers of the Heir.
"Speak: quickly."
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Post by Bloodtrailkiller on Aug 2, 2017 9:57:57 GMT -8
=SICHERLEIN'S HIDEOUT=
/Sicherlein/
There was a vicious satisfaction in watching Tenita cow to her, she was happy for her own mask to veil her utter giddiness in this victory. Though, she supposed her quiet sway and clap of her hands were still a bit out of place, though she wasn't sure if she wholly cared. The lot seemed a bit lax in tact, which she welcomed, yet, she wasn't sure to what degree.
Regardless, the pipsome blonde shrugged and bowed her head to Tenita, then lolled her head back to look at Siegelinde. Kicking her feet into the air in idleness.
"I vvould know vvhere to find many things in the Hamlet--" She quickly responded and hopped up and danced over to pluck up the piece of paper, looking over the poster with due familiarity,
"---Aaaaah, Jaaaa... Many men look like this; but, hmm, Silas Trask. Most definitely, is very special in the rumoring mice of the Hamlet." She giggled with another nod, and straightened, placing a hand on her hip which drummed lightly on the small amount of trousers revealed between her coat and boots.
"Wild, wild rumors; you knew him?" Another small laugh and shrug as the hand holding the paper bent upwards, the paper wilting off to the side as she held it close to the brim of her hat.
"I believe I could go looking, ja, dearest Siegelein" She bowed her cap and smirked, though that seemed to be the preternatural state of her lips, veering the beauty mark just below them up in a tantalizing skew.
"It vvill be a good trade; I imagine these trinkets and things are of great import. You would not have dressed in such... fine full plate if it were not so, hmm?" She held the paper out to Siegelinde,
"Who made it, anyways?.. Looks... Italian?" She mused, stepping closer and reaching out with the paper holding the hand to feel the breastplate, tapping along it, her mouth quirked in a curiously intensive curiosity.
"Mmmm: or was this more of an heirloom? It feels... Old? The segmented plates, you know. Did you participate in the Crusades?" came a final inquiry, as she pinched at the pauldrons of the set of armor, biting on her lower lip: what might've been intensive thought, was tilted into unnerving salaciousness as her teeth were hinted at in that smirk of hers.
//
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Post by relentless on Aug 2, 2017 10:03:12 GMT -8
=Sichs Hideout=
Tenita remains silent, meandering away at her axes as she improved upon them with a neutral expression, placing one of the axes t hat had been finished onto the bed, and moved onto her other axe with her whetstone and continued, veiled in silence, lazy to socialise. |
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