Delivery for Doron Amar
Posted: Tue Sep 18, 2012 10:08 am
/// This post approved by DM Galadriel ///
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
Someone was knocking on her door, that infernal hells-damned door.
Barbryn grumbled and pulled the pillow over her head, letting her agitated consciousness began to drift back into blissful unconsciousness.
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
“Oh fer tha love of all tha’s holy GO AWAY!” The dwarf threw her pillow at the door and just as violently rolled her blanket around her in a cocoon, grimacing her eyes shut in stubborn determination to get back to sleep.
There was silence, and with some relief Barbryn fell to sleep once more. In fact she got another good six hours sleep, just past dawn’s light, without interruption. Had her pillow not been discarded by the door, she would have thought the whole interruption last night a dream. She sighed, yawned and stretched feeling the snap and crackle of her spine from sleeping without her pillow. With a grumble she washed from a basin, changed her clothes and brushed her hair, going through the basic routine until it was time for her daily trip to the Merchant League.
Her mind now on tallies, the latest architectural designs and a particularly irritable co-worker she was going to have to talk to today she opened her door-
-and walked straight into an orc’s chest
“GAH!”
The dwarf fell backwards fumbling for her ax and realizing, since she was still in the city, that she didn’t have her ax on her. “Get back!” She demanded, wielding the first hefty thing she could grab – a broom – at the offending creature.
Kaltyra tilted her head to the side, looking tired and less than her diplomatic self. Unseen to one side was an equally tired and irritable Fist guard who’d been charged with keeping watch over the orcess the entire night.
“It’s Barbryn Glori, yes?” The orcess asked with the measure patience of someone who had spent years developing considerable willpower.
The famous architect wasn’t a fool and now that her initial shock was wearing off she began to take in her visitor. The druidic totems, the hunting leathers, that strangely calm expression so alien to most orc faces and those golden amber eyes.
“I know you…” Barbryn offered in a searching way, peeling back layers of her memories until she found the matching image. Her eyes widened. “Oi! You’re the one that saved me back during the dragon wars!”
Kaltyra tried to speak but the dwarf was speaking too rapidly now as she tried to stow away the broom out of embarrassment.
“Grumbar right? You summoned a underground route out of the Palace when we were all trapped in there burning and suffocating to death. You and that Calim fellow… Delphinn oh yes he’s of the Nashkel Trade Emporium. Nasty business him being in Amn and all….”
The orcess opened her mouth to intercede but she couldn’t get a word in edge wise as the dwarf escorted her and her guard down to the Merchant League. “And I’m thinking you’d be just the trick for a little prank I need to pull. You up for it?”
“Maybe but-“
“Perfect!” Barbryn interrupted any protest and shooed the Fist guard away. “She’ll be fine with me you go have a break eh?” With that, Kaltyra found herself firmly dragged into the Merchant League’s headquarters.
It was several hours later, after Barbryn’s prank of ‘orc muscle’ scared her belligerent co-worker into wetting himself and shaping up, that the dwarf finally stopped laughing enough that Kaltyra could work in her request.
“Miss Glori… I’m tired. I normally sleep during the day..”
The dwarf blinked. “Oi! Was that you knocking on my door at two in the morning?”
“Yes.. but please if I could make a request?”
“Fine fine, what is it?”
“I wish assistance in harvesting stone. I know rock well, but I don’t know building materials well. Can you come to the Nashkel mines and give me some guidance?”
“Eh.. the Nashkel mines? Aren’t those brimming with duergar, demons and orogs?”
“I’ve some people willing to keep them at bay for a short period.”
Barbryn frowned. “I’ve got plenty of troubles of my own you know. Lots of problems.”
“I saved your life. … and it is for a good cause, I promise.”
“Well.. the prank was pretty funny… you keep me safe and we got a deal.”
…………………………………………………
It hadn’t taken long for the famous architect to instruct the Grumbarite’s Stone Shaping so that the best, most structurally sound materials were being harvested, formed into neat blocks and piled into wagons.
Several adventurers moved back and forth around them, picking off any intruders who dared try interrupt their work. Meanwhile Kaltyra would run a finger over the line of strata Barbryn had shown her, open her stance so it was as solid and immoveable as a mountain, then gesture in hard air punches, thrusting the stone out while pulling in more stone to fill the gaps. The harvested stone would slide down before hot red lines would sever it into manageable large stone bricks.
The architect laughed. “You ever get this place cleared of all the nasties and you could make a mint with your talents here, Kal.”
The orc wiped sweat from her brow, nodding to her companion Grubnar who swiftly loaded the stone into wagons as if each brick were made of paper, then carted a full wagon away, out to the safety of Nashkel proper. Grubnar was amazingly strong, faster that Kaltyra on her best day with all the blessings she could muster for speed. Between his strength, her stone-magic and the dwarf’s architectural know-how it didn’t take more than a day to have twenty wagon loads ready for delivery.
They saw Barbryn safely home, then Kaltyra and Grubnar returned to their cave to sleep. They would want to be strong and well rested.
The greatest trial yet remained.
………………………………
Kaltyra walked along the oxen-led wagons with her companions Juez and Pate at her side. Grubnar put a hand on her arm to offer his support. She was nervous about coming so close to the elven settlement during this most dangerous and tumultuous of times. Still, she felt this would assist Doron Amar in its defenses. Magic could only go so far, and the elves would not want to be forced into felling the same trees they were trying to protect. Still, fortifications had to come from somewhere. That was where the many high-quality stone blocks came into play. The oxen strained under their loads, even with the bulls-strength potions she’s laced their feed with this morning.
She hoped that bringing an unarmed, unarmored Ilmatari and the ranger Pate who served the Great Archer, an elven deity, would soften her appearance as they drew up to the checkpoint of the bridge. She looked to her companions, then to the many elven archers who were watching and waiting with bows drawn.
“I would ask that you not shoot please.” Kaltyra called out gently in her well-practiced Common. She could smell them all around her, see the gentle rustles that betrayed their presences to only the most keen of eye. “I bring for you a gift. The best stone to be found in these lands, un-etched by chisel and therefore as structurally sound as the day it was cooled from lava. It is for your fortifications of your village. A token of good will. I and my tribe are orc, but not of the tribes you fight.”
She paused in thought then added. “I have heard of your troubles, I know of your anger and of many ill rumors that surround me… However I have never acted against you and do not wish to be drawn into this fight as an enemy to you. I wish to keep good relations with you, to prove I am not who or what the rumors claim. No single gesture can make this truth stand out, but I hope to at least try to reach out to you in your time of trials. I ask only for a chance.”
And with that… she waited.
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
Someone was knocking on her door, that infernal hells-damned door.
Barbryn grumbled and pulled the pillow over her head, letting her agitated consciousness began to drift back into blissful unconsciousness.
THUMP THUMP THUMP.
“Oh fer tha love of all tha’s holy GO AWAY!” The dwarf threw her pillow at the door and just as violently rolled her blanket around her in a cocoon, grimacing her eyes shut in stubborn determination to get back to sleep.
There was silence, and with some relief Barbryn fell to sleep once more. In fact she got another good six hours sleep, just past dawn’s light, without interruption. Had her pillow not been discarded by the door, she would have thought the whole interruption last night a dream. She sighed, yawned and stretched feeling the snap and crackle of her spine from sleeping without her pillow. With a grumble she washed from a basin, changed her clothes and brushed her hair, going through the basic routine until it was time for her daily trip to the Merchant League.
Her mind now on tallies, the latest architectural designs and a particularly irritable co-worker she was going to have to talk to today she opened her door-
-and walked straight into an orc’s chest
“GAH!”
The dwarf fell backwards fumbling for her ax and realizing, since she was still in the city, that she didn’t have her ax on her. “Get back!” She demanded, wielding the first hefty thing she could grab – a broom – at the offending creature.
Kaltyra tilted her head to the side, looking tired and less than her diplomatic self. Unseen to one side was an equally tired and irritable Fist guard who’d been charged with keeping watch over the orcess the entire night.
“It’s Barbryn Glori, yes?” The orcess asked with the measure patience of someone who had spent years developing considerable willpower.
The famous architect wasn’t a fool and now that her initial shock was wearing off she began to take in her visitor. The druidic totems, the hunting leathers, that strangely calm expression so alien to most orc faces and those golden amber eyes.
“I know you…” Barbryn offered in a searching way, peeling back layers of her memories until she found the matching image. Her eyes widened. “Oi! You’re the one that saved me back during the dragon wars!”
Kaltyra tried to speak but the dwarf was speaking too rapidly now as she tried to stow away the broom out of embarrassment.
“Grumbar right? You summoned a underground route out of the Palace when we were all trapped in there burning and suffocating to death. You and that Calim fellow… Delphinn oh yes he’s of the Nashkel Trade Emporium. Nasty business him being in Amn and all….”
The orcess opened her mouth to intercede but she couldn’t get a word in edge wise as the dwarf escorted her and her guard down to the Merchant League. “And I’m thinking you’d be just the trick for a little prank I need to pull. You up for it?”
“Maybe but-“
“Perfect!” Barbryn interrupted any protest and shooed the Fist guard away. “She’ll be fine with me you go have a break eh?” With that, Kaltyra found herself firmly dragged into the Merchant League’s headquarters.
It was several hours later, after Barbryn’s prank of ‘orc muscle’ scared her belligerent co-worker into wetting himself and shaping up, that the dwarf finally stopped laughing enough that Kaltyra could work in her request.
“Miss Glori… I’m tired. I normally sleep during the day..”
The dwarf blinked. “Oi! Was that you knocking on my door at two in the morning?”
“Yes.. but please if I could make a request?”
“Fine fine, what is it?”
“I wish assistance in harvesting stone. I know rock well, but I don’t know building materials well. Can you come to the Nashkel mines and give me some guidance?”
“Eh.. the Nashkel mines? Aren’t those brimming with duergar, demons and orogs?”
“I’ve some people willing to keep them at bay for a short period.”
Barbryn frowned. “I’ve got plenty of troubles of my own you know. Lots of problems.”
“I saved your life. … and it is for a good cause, I promise.”
“Well.. the prank was pretty funny… you keep me safe and we got a deal.”
…………………………………………………
It hadn’t taken long for the famous architect to instruct the Grumbarite’s Stone Shaping so that the best, most structurally sound materials were being harvested, formed into neat blocks and piled into wagons.
Several adventurers moved back and forth around them, picking off any intruders who dared try interrupt their work. Meanwhile Kaltyra would run a finger over the line of strata Barbryn had shown her, open her stance so it was as solid and immoveable as a mountain, then gesture in hard air punches, thrusting the stone out while pulling in more stone to fill the gaps. The harvested stone would slide down before hot red lines would sever it into manageable large stone bricks.
The architect laughed. “You ever get this place cleared of all the nasties and you could make a mint with your talents here, Kal.”
The orc wiped sweat from her brow, nodding to her companion Grubnar who swiftly loaded the stone into wagons as if each brick were made of paper, then carted a full wagon away, out to the safety of Nashkel proper. Grubnar was amazingly strong, faster that Kaltyra on her best day with all the blessings she could muster for speed. Between his strength, her stone-magic and the dwarf’s architectural know-how it didn’t take more than a day to have twenty wagon loads ready for delivery.
They saw Barbryn safely home, then Kaltyra and Grubnar returned to their cave to sleep. They would want to be strong and well rested.
The greatest trial yet remained.
………………………………
Kaltyra walked along the oxen-led wagons with her companions Juez and Pate at her side. Grubnar put a hand on her arm to offer his support. She was nervous about coming so close to the elven settlement during this most dangerous and tumultuous of times. Still, she felt this would assist Doron Amar in its defenses. Magic could only go so far, and the elves would not want to be forced into felling the same trees they were trying to protect. Still, fortifications had to come from somewhere. That was where the many high-quality stone blocks came into play. The oxen strained under their loads, even with the bulls-strength potions she’s laced their feed with this morning.
She hoped that bringing an unarmed, unarmored Ilmatari and the ranger Pate who served the Great Archer, an elven deity, would soften her appearance as they drew up to the checkpoint of the bridge. She looked to her companions, then to the many elven archers who were watching and waiting with bows drawn.
“I would ask that you not shoot please.” Kaltyra called out gently in her well-practiced Common. She could smell them all around her, see the gentle rustles that betrayed their presences to only the most keen of eye. “I bring for you a gift. The best stone to be found in these lands, un-etched by chisel and therefore as structurally sound as the day it was cooled from lava. It is for your fortifications of your village. A token of good will. I and my tribe are orc, but not of the tribes you fight.”
She paused in thought then added. “I have heard of your troubles, I know of your anger and of many ill rumors that surround me… However I have never acted against you and do not wish to be drawn into this fight as an enemy to you. I wish to keep good relations with you, to prove I am not who or what the rumors claim. No single gesture can make this truth stand out, but I hope to at least try to reach out to you in your time of trials. I ask only for a chance.”
And with that… she waited.