======================= The King's Reckoning ======================== IC time is: < About 08:26 PM > IC day is: Earenya IC date is: 12 Urime Moon phase: First Quarter IC year is: 3184 S.A. --------------------------------------------------------------------- RL time: Sun Jun 10 20:06:37 2001 ===================================================================== LOCATION: Romenahl Square Paved with cobblestone, the square lies wide and content-looking before you. All the traffic that enters or leaves Umbar through its busiest Eastern Gate must go through here, and thus the Romenahl is rarely empty. Before dawn, scores of wagons from the countryside line up the square on their way south to the market; messengers and adventurers form a small trickle that goes the opposite way, and occasionally an army marches East, overruling all other traffic. Two pillars on the eastern end of the square support the Eastern Gate fortifications; the road out passes between them. Streets run in all directions from the Romenahl, making you wonder which way to turn next, for Umbar is the city of much business and many pleasures. All the area surrounding the square is known in Umbar as Eastgate. Contents: Finannriel Marazon Obvious exits: Northwest leads to Ar-Batan: Magistrate. West leads to Gimilbatan: The Star Arches. Southwest leads to Harbatan: At the Leather Shops. To The Gates leads to In the Shadow of Eastern Gate. ===================================================================== [Finannriel:] A salt breeze wafts through the cobblestone square, brought of seaward winds that also billow the graying clouds overhead. Though it does not look as if it will rain, the air is damp and encouraging of warmer dress in the early evening. Maybe that is why the lady Finannriel is shivering, gowned in emerald silk and cloakless as she is. The long reddish hair is ruffled with the breeze as well, and she raises a hand to keep it from her face as she speaks with a cart-vendor who is selling trinkets of glass and of silver. The perfect lips are lifted in a smile as the young woman reaches for her moneypurse and takes out several coin to pay the vendor. [Marazon:] Marazon moves through the square, the seawind ruffling his hair, makes a pretty dark mess of them. Yet he seems a bit hurried, walking fast and holding with one hand his cloak least the winf would engulfs in. Marazon halts by the row of vendor, his glance scanning their shelves as he walks before till he halts by Finannriel, not without giving the woman an appreciative glance, yet is eems he is more interested by the ware to be sold there. He grins as his eyes ends on a trinket the like she chose. "It's very nice.... Nice opals and silver..." [Barzag:] At this hour the square is still busy with traffic, mostly incoming: workers returning from the fields and gardens just outside the city wall; labourers returning from a long day's toil repairing the walls themselves. The steady stream of passers by parts into two as it flows round the square's central area. One group of labourers in particular stands out; these men are shorter of height than most, swarthy of skin; their clothing is ragged and unkempt, as if they have little care for their appearance. They are sweat-streaked and dusty, and most of the citizens give them a wide berth. One of the labourers halts as he enters the square, raising his head to face into the cooling breeze, looking across to the row of vendors as he does so. [Finannriel:] The smile broadens, the mist-gray eyes sparkle as Finannriel turns to the man who has made the comment. "You like it?" she says in soft voice, accepting the tiny silver dish encrusted with opals from the vendor. "I do as well. It will be a nice addition upon the mantle." She holds the trinket forward for the other to look at, and perhaps take for closer inspection. Though at the moment it seems the young woman is all but inspecting the young man with the sea-breeze ruffled hair. "I am Finannriel," she says in a seamless flow of words, regarding him a moment. "Have we met before...?" The group of laborers is noticed by the woman, the one laborer that stops as well... but given no more than a cursory glance for the moment, as Finannriel's attention is more drawn in interest to Marazon and his answer. [Marazon:] Marazon turns and let hs finer play with the small object of silver. He chuckles breifly and nods, "Aye I like it" he grins and takes another look up at her, at the place she would wear it on her mantle. "Well met lady Finannriel, I think we have, now I hear your voice, I am sure..." Marazon smiles effortlessly. 'You were offering your help to the healers last time... A noble gest, many people need help" he sighs yet and catch the group of worker moving toward them. "I will take this one, sir merchant" he adds, hurried to finish. He holds out apouch and counts two coins of gold. [Barzag:] Another of the group of labourers glances back towards the man who had stopped, and shouts something in their guttural tongue. The fellow who had halted, easily marked out from his fellows by his height and the fact that he has a malformed lip, starts and gives a single-word reply. He begins to move forward towards his kinsmen. However, he is forced to halt his progress to give way for a covered wagon. The wagon is heading towards the city gates, against the flow of traffic, and its driver seems to have little heed for pedestrians. [Finannriel:] Recognition alights in Finannriel's eyes as Marazon mentions the healers guild. "Yes. Of course," she says as her hands clasp about the purchased trinket. That is why I found your face so familiar, then." The gray gaze settles upon his. "Not a face easily forgotten, I might add," is offered in a whisper as the smile broadens with the faint flush of her cheeks. The disturbance of the shouts behind her draws the young woman's glance away, and she takes a step back from the vendor's cart. With that step, a loitering figure makes its move in the dimming evening light, jostling Finannriel with a heavy 'bump' and causing her to drop the trinket in her hands. As the silver dish falls to the ground, the figure scoops it up quickly, weaving to the center of the street in the direction of the gates. "Wait!" Finannriel calls, the incident happening in a blink. Defiance flashes in her gaze, and set upon pursuing the young thief, she rushes several steps forward, heedless of the covered wagon that looms ahead. [Marazon:] Marazon smiles politely and replaces the pouch inside his belt. His eys plays on her face a few seconds as she examines him and he disturns his glance at her first blush. And all this eye play is enough for the thief to do its mischief "Hey you" Marazon calls, as surprised by the sudden move of the man than Finannriel. "Stop' he callas once and then lepa in Finannriel steps, bumping into another man... Focusing on the back of the thief, he runs toward the gates [Barzag:] The Hillman moves out of the way instinctively as a small shape hurtles towards him, yet a shove from an offended Umbarian sends him staggering back into the figure's path. The Hillman labourer is sturdily built, and manages to remain standing, but the young thief goes flying, prized trinket slipping out of one outstretched hand, and rolling back towards the covering wagon. The Hillman glances towards the small shining object - and halts, only now noticing the young woman who seems determined to place herself in the cart's path. [Finannriel:] Where blush had faintly touched the woman's cheeks before, defiance has flushed them to a reddened color, and the properly polite maiden is shown for her stoic determination, if not reckless pursuit as she continues after the thief. "Stop! Rogue!" She raises her voice after him, grey eyes wide. Her left hand grabs at the folds of her silken skirts to raise them back from her feet, and as the young thief is sent sprawling and the flash of silver seen to fly as well, Finannriel shifts her steps towards the trinket, only now seeing that she has put herself in the very path of a recklessly driven wagon-- [Marazon:] Indeed the unfotrunate thief is snet flying high by the crash on the stout hillman. The rogue, an hillman himself, tough less heavily build than Barzag falls on his feet with an instinct born either of the cat either of long year spent practicing such sport in the street. Wincing as he looses his prize, he scampers off, ere one of the threes catch him. Just behind Finannriel, Marazon watch the thief takes his best choice and curses... Yet time isnt to long words for the cart closes dangerously. The amazed drivers pulls on the reins, shouting, but the horses seems maddened. Catching one of the arm of the lady, Marazon halts her willy nilly and pulls her back to him. [Barzag:] The passers by finally begin to react to the drama unfolding before their eyes. One man turns to the driver, shouting, "What do you think you are doing there, man? You nearly ran the lady down!" Others are murmuring about the thief in their midst. Whispers of "Thief!" "Miscreant!" "Stop him!" run through the crowd, though none seems sure of exactly what the thief looked like - a dark fellow, some begin to mutter. The Hillman labourer stands still through all this, either not understanding or not heeding the murmurs around him. His eyes remain fixed on the young woman who has so fortunately escaped injury, their gaze one of aloof curiosity. [Finannriel:] With the maiden half-halted in her steps, the sailor's grasp upon her arm is enough to yank Finannriel out of harm's way, though the abrupt attempt sends her stumbling back upon her feet to fall heavily against Marazon. Her heart racing with the chase and the near-miss of the cart, it is all the young woman can do to regain her former composure and calm her gasping breaths. "Thank you," she utters to the sailor, her face mere inches from his. Standing back from Marazon and smoothing her unruly hair with a trembling hand, she looks across the way to the Hillman who had caught the young thief, though it seems she still looks to see if the pilfered item still lies upon the street or has been taken yet by another. "My thanks to you, sir," she calls across the way to him, her voice still affected and shaken. [Barzag:] The Hillman's eyes widen briefly at the woman's comment. He looks down to where the trinket lies upon the dusty earth, for it has miraculously escaped being crushed under the wheels of the wagon. Walking forward, he lifts the article of silver and gems, which somehow seems shrunken in in his broad hand, holding it out to the woman at arm's length. " You look this?" he asks in broken Adunaic. A man in the crowd suddenly states loudly, " A dark fellow, you said? Here he stands right before us!" [Marazon:] Marazon heaves as he manages to pull her back, holding her upright till she regain her balance. Smiling, he nods, watching the fiery lock of her hair curls in her neck. "Dont mention it" he mutters back and releases her arm. "Aye, thanks sir... The thief is gone but where is the silver... Ah here" he says just as Barzag retrieves it. "Thanks doubly... and " he grins recognizing him, "You use of good adunaic, my congratulations" [Finannriel:] Taking the offered gem-encrusted dish from the Hillman, Finannriel utters another 'thanks' to both men, taking a long-drawn breath before to steady her words. That the thief seems to have escaped does not seem to matter as much as getting her property back, and with still-trembling hands Finannriel delves into her moneypurse, taking out a sum twice the value paid for the silver item and holding it forward to the Hillman. "Such action on your part deserves well this sum," she says. "Please accept it as my thanks," she asks. [Barzag:] At the words of Marazon, the Hillman, Barzag lifts his head to look at the taller Dunadan, his lips twitching in an approximation to a smile. " I try learn Adunic," he responds, obviously pleased. But when the woman holds out some coins to him, the Hillman stares at her in consternation. " What for I use metal?" he asks. " No need - I work, receive food in return. No wish ..." he trails off, obviously lacking the Adunaic words to express himself clearly. Meanwhile, the man who had made the remark about the 'dark fellow' is shaking his head in disgust. "So this is how they reward thieves," he remarks to a companion. "Perhaps I should take up thievery myself." He winks. [Finannriel:] But Finannriel is clearly confused by Barzag's refusal of the offering. "But this shall buy you food," she says, lifting her chin a little with the utterance. "It will buy you much food." Looking to Marazon, the grey gaze imploring, she asks. "Can you not explain it to him? That this is food if it is exchanged?" Still her palm lies open with the coins gleaming upon it. And to those around who whisper in doubt and jests, Finannriel darts a cautioning, if aristocratic, glare. [Marazon:] "With this you can have lot of food, you give this to a merchant and he will give you food... You can trade it for elsething too... Clothes... Silver trinklet... or to have a dunedain teqch you better adunaic" the seaman explains quietly, frowning once at the joke heard in his back. "Take it" he says and picking up the coins places them in his palm. "Take it... With this gold, you'll live better... I hope so at least." [Barzag:] Barzag still appears rather uncertain, though at the mention of clothes he looks down at his worn and filthy leather tunic, and a strange expression flits across his face - surely not shame? " You wish me take this?" he asks Marazon, a look of concentration on his face as he sounds the foreign words as clearly as possible. " Then I take." He closes his palm around the coins. Looking at the auburn-haired woman, he says earnestly, " I thank. I much thank," and once again the corners of his mouth curl up in what must be a smile. [Finannriel:] Grateful that the man has taken the coins, though still well-ruffled of the ordeal, Finannriel smiles faintly to Marazon, clutching the opal and silver dish in her hands. "I should like to find a place to sit," she says, something of her aristocratic air returning in the request, her chin lifting to its previous 'refined' demeanor. The maiden seems still shaken, for while her voice has calmed considerably and the color of her face returned to a normal hue, she still trembles slightly. [Marazon:] Marazon thinks a second and nods to Finannriel. "And be careful, this is a lot of money, dont let merchants trick you, other coins exists, less valuable then these ones... Made of copper and silver" Marazon precises, lacking time to enter details. " I am sure one of your comapanion knows about" he smiles and watches the man. "Continue to work you adunaic" he finishes and then turns to Finannriel. Offering her a loop of his arm, Marazon nods, "Do you allow me ?" he asks "There is a tavern not far from here... If you wish to have something to drink to forget amd rest..." [Finannriel:] As Marazon continues to speak to the Hillman, Finannriel watches both closely, nodding in response to the sailor's words. "Do find out his name?" she breathes in a whisper to the Dunadan, slipping her arm into his and leaning slightly against him as she does so. "And a tavern would be fine," she says softly. "As long as it is fairly quiet?" Her words drift as lightly as the salted breezes. [Barzag:] Barzag's expression changes to a frown as the implications of what the seaman has said sink in. Thinking out loud, he wonders, "You Dunadan. You teach me Adunic?," hastily adding, "I sorry, No mean speak too much," to the two citizens of Umbar who are now very obivously engaged in a private conversation of their own. [Marazon:] "I fear I am not a good professor, my friend... I'll ask somebody in the library, dont go there yourslefm they would brand you thief.... What is your name ?" Marzon says, swinging around Finannriel arm to face Barzag. [Barzag:] " I Barzag," the Hillman responds quickly. He hesitates, and adds, " Barzag uHalmar," chin lifting as he pronounces the second word. " What your? ,,, no, what is your name?" He looks questioningly at Marazon, and the young auburn-haired woman. [Finannriel:] "Yet there would be others to teach you," Finannriel says to the Hillman as Marazon finishes. The question posed by Barzag in turn seems to catch the woman off-guard, though the hesitance is slight, and with a nod of her head, she answers, " I am Finannriel. I oversee my father's business here in Umbar." [Marazon:] "I am Marazon son of Halrador" the seaman introduces himself. Feeling the lad leans on his arm. He tilts his head at her. "Milady ?" he says interrogatively. "Barzag" he continuesm giving the nae a more adunaic sound. "I know where I can find you, if we happen to meet on the wall again... Or come to the healing houses to se your friend" [Finannriel:] "There are many teachers and scribes in Umbar who may help you," Finannriel adds, though seems to look longingly past the square, taking note of the waning light as dusk takes over. "Use those coins to secure a teacher." Her tone is encouraging, though bears also the merest hint of impatience. [Barzag:] The Hillman shakes his head slightly at the torrent of words that pours forth from Finannriel's lips. He has been repeating the two names soundlessly to himself, twisted lips shaping each word carefully. It seems that the name 'Finannriel' in particular caused him some difficulty, for he repeated it several times. " I glad meet you," he eventually says aloud, to both Umbarians. " I much thank... no, I thank much." He directs his next words to Marazon. " I work on wall, yes. And sometimes go healing houses - not allowed go often, overseer no like." He draws breath, and finishes, " I need go now." [Marazon:] "With a bit of money to the overseer, you can go easily I am sure" Marazon says, not so loud and smiles. "You can buy lot of things with this, make good use of it Barzag" he smiles and turns toward the lady. "Would it be a hint of ... fatigue I felt milady ?" he says with good humor. "I will be over there tomorrow I think" he last says and starts to moves away. [Barzag:] Turning from the pair of Umbarians, Barzag begins to plod across the twilit square, in the direction in which his fellows have long since vanished. The man who had made the sneering remarks earlier gives Barzag an ugly look, and whispers something to his friend in a jeering tone, something that fortunately the Hillman can neither hear nor understand. Head down, Barzag pushes his way through the crowd, which mysteriously seems to part in front of him - perhaps the sweat and grime of an honest day's toil disgust the refined Umbarians? Whatever the case, they clear a path for him to leave the square as quickly as possible. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Participants: FINANNRIEL Soft grey eyes like morning mist gaze out from the flawless features of a face well defined with high cheekbones, a narrow, delicate nose and full, rose-colored lips. Her long hair is a crown of glory, tumbling in rich cascades of darkest auburn which, when blessed by the sun's light, shimmer a fiery sheen of red. It flows free to her waist, and is never restricted from breath of wind or seaward breeze, except for two emerald and gold hairpins set carefully in place. Aristocratic is her style, or at least could be presumed from what she wears. Nothing less than silk for this lady, and in colors that rival the richness of gems. A gown of deepest emerald is worn this day. Fitted tightly of its bodice, the rounded neck cut low is edged with delicate tucks of lace the color and irridescence of seashells. More lace is gathered in a narrow edging upon the wrists. The full skirt barely skims the ground as she walks, with a whisper of silk and the perfume of flowers left in her wake. MARAZON Fair skinned, tow headed and blue eyed, this dunedain stands a little inches above the commone height of a Numeneroan. He is strongly built, moving with ease, be him armored or not. His nose is strong and long, his chin, free of any beard, volunteer and a hint of sadness bless the arching of his blonde eyebrow. Small plates of steel closely sewn on flexible leather cover his chest and limbs. Each is a little mirror in itself and reflect the light, living kaleidoscope on the body of the seaman. A jeweled belt, wearing the insignias of the Sea Kings, supports along with a broad baldric of dark leather, the heavy scabbard of a not less heavy broadsword. High boots designed not for riding but for long walk on the slippy deck of ships reach as far as his knees, where the steel armor halts. Often he wears a finely wocen cloak of deep indigo wool around his shoulder, covering his chest and hanging behind him to his back knee while letting his neck free and often, a cold and threathening bow wrought in black steel is in his hand. BARZAG At first glance this man appears a normal specimen of the Hill-Folk. He is tall for his kind, perhaps about six feet in height, and his shoulders are slightly hunched in the manner of one who spends much of the time looking downward. His skin is swarthy, weather-beaten from long days spent outdoors, his build rugged. From the man's slightly stooped posture, you deduce that he is used to carrying heavy loads. His feet are encased in crude leather moccasins, worn and scuffed. He wears trousers of some coarse greyish material, although it is hard to tell whether this is the cloth's original colour or the result of fading. There is a tear across one knee that has been inexpertly mended. A mass of unruly dark hair hangs loose about his shoulders, brushing the top of his tunic, which is of a soft, supple leather; it has been subject to prolonged wear, judging by the shiny patches and ingrained creases, and surely cannot last for much longer. Your gaze wanders upwards, towards this man's face - and halts, for therein lies the reason for the distrust and fear he inspires in many. His chin is hidden by a short, dark beard, carefully trimmed. But his upper lip, upon which only a few sparse bristles grow, is cloven in the manner of a beast, and twisted slightly so that his mouth appears to be set in a perpetual sneer. Above this, his nose is long and straight; amber eyes generally regard the observer coolly from beneath lowering black brows. Were it not for the wrongness of his mouth, he might even be considered handsome, but his disfigurement prevents this.