Brethil's Roleplaying Logs

Woodshop
The smell of new-cut wood and sawdust hangs in the air, a pleasant and earthy essence for a shop cluttered and stacked with oak and pine boards and pieces of wood as well as woodworker's tools. A large and sturdy sawhorse sits in the center of the room, and a pole lathe and spoon auger nearby as well. The shop is used year-round to shape and cut wood harvested from the forest, and a small fireplace serves to both heat the room and dispose of the unusable remnants of wood. Various projects, half-finished and just begun, line the east wall upon shelves, while scraps and curlings of wood litter the floor liberally.

Its a brisk Autumn Morning, and outside of the woodshop, the chill of winter is beginning to set in. But, within the shop, we have something quite different. Lamps have been lit, and the heavy musky scent of sweat and sawdust fills the air. At the far end of the shop, working industriously at the lathe, is Falsten the Carpenter and his trusty apprentice, Willem. Willem works the footpedal that spins the wheel that turns the lathe, while the carpenter carves out various swirling patterns upon the spinning woodpiece.

The lathe causes an awful loud rasping noise in the enclosed space, and any entrance, if unannounced by voice, would probably be unheard.

A soft gust of the cool autumn winds drifts into the woodshop as its front entryway is swung open from outside, scattering dust and woodchips across the debris covered floor. Beyond the wide threshold stands the Beorian, Istadris, who steps quickly within and pauses there to let his narrowed eyes adjust to the dimmer light of the lit lamps. A loosely flowing cloak of deep greens hangs from the lean man's shoulders, and this he idly tosses over one shoulder while surveying the two Haladin men working across the room. "Hallo!" He calls out in a strong voice, while lifting a hand to draw the others' attention and moving across the chamber to approach them.

Only a few steps behind Istadris, a woman appears at the front of the woodshop before its door has chance to shut. With unruly hair, tousled by the blustering autumn winds, she is dressed in the manner of a woodsman, drab colours meant to blend with forest surroundings and a padded jacket over top. Drawing in a deep breath of sweet wood first, she then peers about inside, spotting Istadris with his back to her and addressing two others busy at work.

Was that a hallo? Falsten straightens, a signal to his apprentice to slow the wheel, and half turns. Indeed it was. Raising his hand, he gives Willem a little wave to stop the wheel, and turns fully now to view his visitors. The long carving tool he was using on the chunk of wood is quickly covered by a soft felt cloth from the work-bench, and a compulsory cleaning begins as Istadris and the lady woodsman approaches.

"Hallo," replies Falsten and he steps out to meet Istadris in the center of the floor. He smiles slightly, litting his lanky red hair flop to the side. This morning, the carpenter wears a cool, loose tunic. The kind of garment that is easy to take off when the shop becomes overly hot. Over this, a heavy leather apron, stained and scored with use.

The woodsman glances with seeming interest at the lathe and wheel that the two Haladin men work on, though his gaze is drawn soon to the carpenter's. "Good morn." He greets, before glancing over one shoulder at Finnabair's approach. "I take it you have met with the young messenger, Sionell?" He questions, walking closer to the two other men and idly studying the pattern carved upon the worked wood. "Finnabair and myself will be leading a party out into the forests to see if may track the vandals who waylaid you and her, and I wish to find out what you two may have discovered from speaking with each other."

Finnabair takes a few steps forward into the woodshop, soft soles moving quickly over shavings scattered over the floor as she joins Istadris and Falsten within, "I saw you come in here, Istadris.", she remarks, quickly adding a politely worded greeting to the carpenter. Looking earnestly at the man while Istadris asks his question, adding her own, "Could you tell me what happened?", she asks, "I have not heard the tale."

"Um..." replies Falsten brilliantly, his smile fading somewhat to a more polite version. Seeing Finnabair, he offers a nod. "Well they both claimed to have brothers. And they both were quite unneighborly. And they were both scruffy. But, well, that could be anybody out in the sticks. I can't imagine that they'll do anything to attract attention to themselves if a big ol' group went out looking for them."

Absently, he flips his carving piece and begins to clean the other side of the sharp blade-end. "We were both by ourselves, and we both did not see where it was that this fellow lived. She believed, by the way he was talking, he had quite a few people there with him... not only his brothers. So it may be a large group we're talking about, rather than a trio of brothers out in the brush."

Looking to Finnabair, Falsten says, "Well... not much happened, in truth. I was stopped on the path near the Teiglin by this man with a spear. He wanted a tribute, and I refused. So... he tried to kill me. Well, I succeeded in disarming the man, and he ran away. Nothing more, really."

Istadris smiles wryly at the carpenter's description of the unknown bandit, and though he dips his head in agreement, his brow furrows questioningly. "It seems rather obvious that both of you met up with a ruffian from the same group, then." He says, drawing a step backwards and half turning to have a better look around the woodshop, "If not the same man himself." With a light shrug, the Beorian looks to Finnabair and arches his brow. "What do you think, Finnabair?" He asks, "Some of the wardens would come with us once we go seek these bandits. The more of them there are, the easier they shall be to find." Again the lean man turns, this time to look upon Falsten and his apprentice, "What about you, Falsten? Would you accompany us and show us where you were beset by this man?"

Finnabair lifts a brow at Falsten's tale and when he finishes she looks about ready to say something to it, lips parting with words to say till Istadris interrupts her thought and she but shakes her head at the question he directs to her, "I do not think that would make it easier. The more we take the more likely they will be to put themselves out of sight.", she answers, agreeing with Falsten's own like comment. "Better if a smaller group goes out first they could at least to seek out their number and perhaps a hideout, if there is one."

"I agree with th' lady, Istadris," nodding to the woodsman. "Unless, ye plan on accosting every scruffy-looking fellow with a spear, or broken spear, from here to the southlands. No one in their right mind, would come out and say 'Aye! I'm a bandit!' to a large party of hunters." He pauses and then snorts merrily to himself, in a half-chuckle. "Well, I mean... I wouldn't know, really. I've never been a bandit before." He grins ruefully, "But, that's th' way my logic is thinking."

"As for me coming along? I don't know how much help I'd be. I know abouts where I ran into the fellow, and I get along alright defending myself, but in pitched combat, I'm no great shakes. You may do better in bringing along some of the Guard or something."

Istadris arches an eyebrow quizzically at Finnabair's words, and quickly shakes his head. "I do not mean to suggest we should go out in numbers." He says, leaning casually back against one of the sawdust covered tables, "The more _bandits_ there are, the easier they shall be to find, I say." With a dismissive shrug, the lean man turns back to Falsten. "Your logic is correct." He says to the carpenter, his wry smile broadening, "They shall not announce themselves as bandits. But perhaps we can trick them into demanding tribute from one of us, and ambush them in turn, or simply follow to see if they do have a nearby lair or camp. I do not expect you to accompany us when we march to apprehend these men, but I do ask that you show me where it was that he attempted to waylay you. Perhaps I may find trace of them in those parts."

Finnabair laughs silently at Falsten and manages to say with a straight face, "If we planned on accosting scruffy-looking fellows with spears, Istadris would be the first." Turning from the carpenter to the woodsman, she nods slowly, wording a quiet "ahhh", as he corrects her misunderstanding, "Somehow I do not think any of this will be easy though.", she says wryly, "But to lay a trap seems a good plan to draw them out.", she agrees, stepping back to push the door shut when the wind suddenly begins to bang it open and shut repeatedly.

"Hrm... I'll have to fix that," says Falsten absently as the front door swings open. Then with a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, he says, "Well... aye. I suppose I could do that, Istadris. Go and show you where I ran into the guy. Its about a day out, though. And its along one of the less travelled trails." The carpenter shrugs, and turns to set his chisel down.

"Oh... oh yeah. I almost forgot. He said, he'd kill me the next time he sees me." Turning back, to Istadris and Finnabair, the carpenter looks quite unpreturbed by that announcement, "So, take that as you will. Maybe you'll be getting your *ambush* quicker than you expect, if we go out there again."

The Beorian tracker flashes Finnabair an amused glance at her comment, but says naught of it and turns back to look upon the carpenter. "Aye, Falsten. We shall go one of these days soon." He says, lifting a hand to scratch idly at the side of his scarred jaw, "And we shall bring Sionell to see where she was beset by her ruffian." The woodsman's thin lips curl with a soft scowl, and he edges away from the table to pace idly towards the opposite wall of the room. "If we mean to draw them out into ambush, we shall need bait." He declares, looking between Finnabair and Falsten with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps you can wear something pretty, Finnabair." He adds, his features suddenly stony expressionless, "And draw the ruffians to us. Geleviel would surely be willing to make you a dress for the occasion, if you ask her."

Securing the door shut, Finnabair turns back to the interior of the shop, idly glancing over to the young apprentice still at work. Falsten's last catches her attention and she shifts her gaze toward him, "The sooner met, they will be dealt with.", she remarks before Istadris' suggestion. Snapping her head toward him, she watches him warily, searching his blank expression. A moment passes and she answers, "We will have talk of plans later, Istadris.", in a voice flat and even and just as untelling.

Sensing that some sort of game is being played here between Finnabair and Istadris, Falsten doesn't offer any suggestions. In truth, these two are probably better at planning such things than he is. The most he could offer is, perhaps... get hurt for them or something. And that's pretty durn easy.

Taking a breath, Falsten nods to Istadris, "Well... whatever you two plan, I'm sure it'll work out okay. I guess, I'd be willing to go along with it, whatever it may be."

Istadris offers Finnabair a slight nod of acknowledgement and turns back to look upon Falsten and his apprentice. "I shall come looking for you in another few days, then." He says to the Haladin carpenter, before offering a reassuring smile, "Fear not, you will not be in any danger." The woodsman shrugs idly then and steps back, turning on his heel to approach the doorway, where he once again pauses. "Unless there are many more of them then we suspect..." He adds, casting the ranger a sidelong glance with his back to the carpenter, "In which case, we would all be in grave danger." The doorway is swung open by the Beorian tracker then, and he steps quickly out into the morning sun, turning only briefly to call a 'good day' back to Falsten before disappearing from view.

Seemingly unpreturbed by the voicing of danger, Falsten gives a wave and a call, "If you have any need of my services, you know where to find me." Turning back, once more, he gives a searching look about the room for his apprentice, finding the lad sitting in the far corner, carving away at a small stick of wood. A slight smile crosses the carpenter's face, and he turns to go pick up some other work... the lathe can wait until later.

Finnabair watches over her shoulder as Istadris leaves the woodshop and the two of them behind, "Reassuring, is he not?", she asks Falsten with a generous grin as she turns back to him. Seeing that the carpenter returns to his work, she starts for the door, "It was well to meet you Falsten. In a few days then!", she calls back before unlatching the door and retreating back out into the chilly autumn day.

"Good-day, miss," calls back Falsten over his shoulder. "Watch out fer them seamstresses that Istadris keeps talkin' about." At that, the carpenter sits down and begins to polish a leg-piece.