Post by Raulwicke on Jun 9, 2016 18:04:36 GMT
Raulwicke rubbed the sleep from his eyes and took a look outside his window. The hustle and bustle of the early morning residents of Myreque were already making their presence apparent. It was nearly dawn, and despite the fitful sleep he had experienced that night it was time to go to work.
Raulwicke splashed water on his face and donned his cloak, scooping up his lyre and slinging it across his back as he rushed down the stairs. He thanked the innkeepers wife, tossing her a coin that he only hopped was the correct tippage in this part of the world. As he walked outside and smelt the cool ocean air brush against his nostrils he had a momentary pang of homesickness. The sea breeze reminded him of Estel's castle that over looked the 4th Sea. Raulwicke quickly shook off the memory and realigned himself with his mission. Being a Bard was all about knowing the places and people your stories are about. It was time to meet Myreque.
"Greetings Mum! How are you today?" The bard jovially asked a bakers wife who was lying out a fresh batch of loaves to cool.
"I'm well dearie! Thank you so much for asking!" The old lady smiled with relief and a bit of sadness. "But I must say, if you're only here for pleasantries I would scurry along. My husband is in a foul disposition in the mornings and doesn't have time for non-customers."
Raulwicke bowed slightly. "Of course mum. In that case, a moment of your time and your best loaf!" He pulled a gold coin from beneath his cloak. Having slain a Dragon in his time, money had never really been an issue. He had done his best to leave as much of it as he could with Estel, but the Laughing Prince would have none of it.
"Take the Gold Raulwicke! I'm a king! What use have I for gold?"
"You're not a King you nitwit. You're a prince and you always will be as far as I'm concerned."
"Raulwicke my friend, I will miss you when you're off on your next adventure"
"Don't say things like that. You might actually have me believe it"
Raulwicke it snapped back from his memory by a warm crust of bread being placed in his arms.
"Oh thank you so much dearie! This is our best blend! Please do enjoy it!"
Raulwicke smiled and the tears welling in the woman's eyes. Apparently he had grossly overpaid for the bread and this woman was doing her best to try to compensate. Money had never been a major concern even when he didn't have any, so he never understood people's need to get emotional about it.
"Of course mum. But I will ask. I am a storyteller by trade. A Bard. Tell me, who in this town has the greatest story to tell? One that makes people marvel and pause wherever they go?"
The woman paused for a moment in contemplation. Finally, tentatively she replied, "Well, the family Favager has been here for generations. Some say that they were one of the original families of Myreque when it first was founded. But that was so long ago that no one can say anymore.
Raulwicke smiled and thanked the woman kindly and then turned towards the streets once more. The family Favager. He had heard tell of this name when he had initially walked into Myreque. A great history of black smiths and metal workers followed the family. Raulwicke was impressed. The idea that this blacksmiths lineage stretched all the way back to the beginning of Myreque was interesting indeed. These thoughts roll through Raulwicke's head as he travels down the streets of Myreque. He follows the smell of sulfer and smoke until he arrives as a blacksmiths forge, the kernels of creative flame beginning to grow as a man gently coaxes the fire to life.
Ulric breathed in time with the bellows as he pumped air into his forge, heating it for the day's first job. He was delighted to note he was being approached by a person he'd not seen before, which was a rather uncommon occurrence these days. He enjoyed company so he greeted the man warmly, but still remained on task. "Ho, fellow. What brings you to the smithy o' Favager this day?"
"A legend sir." Raulwicke replied. "I was told that one lay in this very forge. Tell me, are you Ulric Favager?"
"That's me, aye. But I'm afeared the legend you speak of is more than just myself." He kept speaking as he prepared his tools to begin work.
Raulwicke leans against one of the post holding up the roof of the forge. It gives a slight creak from his weight as he eyes it warily. "Do tell then sir. The Legend is your family name as I hear it."
"Mmh. You hear true. The Favagers have been here since the city was founded. Always a need for a smith, there is." He began heating a rod of metal intended for creating a horseshoe. "Same hammer, same forge. Quality items."
Raulwicke smiled. Memories of another master smith he had known ages before danced behind his eyes. "Yes, Master Favager. I know a great smith when I see one. I'll tell you this. I seem to be without a decent weapon these days. How much to commission you to make me a dagger? A small one, granted. I'm not that large as you see. But one that can do the job of need be."
Ulric continued to let the bar heat in the flame of the forge, working the bellows a few times. "A dagger, eh? How concealable would you like it be?" He quirked a brow, and appeared lost in thought for a moment. "Regardless I can do it, aye. I just need payment, for daggers I usually just ask the weapon's weight in gold."
Laughter sprung to Raulwickes lips with sudden sharpness and it took him a moment to respond. "My apologies. You simply reminded me of an old friend in that moment. Well, that is fine for me. Money has never seem to be an issue for me, and the weapon should be fairly light regardless. Conceal ability is not the concern so much as form and accessibility. I tend to find myself in scrapes that require me to change effortlessly from a lyre to a weapon. Once I have said weapon, I should be able to handle myself from there."
Ulric let out a hearty chuckle of his own. "I'll add you to the list then. Function over form, aye. Come back in a week or so, I'll have caught up on my other orders by then, and have yours finished too. This comin' party has got me swamped with trivial things." He offered the bard a warm smile before returning to his task, but did not openly dismiss him.
Excitement lights up Raulwicke's eyes. "Ah! You've received an invitation as well? This blasted thing appeared in my lyre a few days ago and, well, I've never been able to turn down revels! I'm just glad there will be at least one familiar face in the crowd!"
Ulric let out a somewhat bitter but still somehow jolly laugh. "No no.. not invited. This kind of event brings a lot of horses to shoe, you see." He withdrew the heated metal and began to hammer it into shape, pausing sometimes to continue speaking.
"Well then you should arrive anyway! As my honored guest!"
"I would love to accept, sir, I really would. And I may show face once I finish my orders that day, and only if that's the case." He smiled at him.
"Well then! I shall expect to see you at the festivities this evening! I must be going though. The costume they require of a bard of my standing is... A tad ridiculous."
"Mmh. Have a good one." He offered a curt wave and respective nod before getting right back to work.
Raulwicke nods his head, and wanders down the street away from the steady clang of hammer on metal. As he turned the corner, walking towards The Bounding Stag, Raulwicke caught the image of the blacksmith banging away at a iron bar that began to change before his eyes. A true craftsman, Ulric had the inner fire of his forge that could very well make him into a Legend. The Legendsinger would watch, wait, and see.
Raulwicke splashed water on his face and donned his cloak, scooping up his lyre and slinging it across his back as he rushed down the stairs. He thanked the innkeepers wife, tossing her a coin that he only hopped was the correct tippage in this part of the world. As he walked outside and smelt the cool ocean air brush against his nostrils he had a momentary pang of homesickness. The sea breeze reminded him of Estel's castle that over looked the 4th Sea. Raulwicke quickly shook off the memory and realigned himself with his mission. Being a Bard was all about knowing the places and people your stories are about. It was time to meet Myreque.
"Greetings Mum! How are you today?" The bard jovially asked a bakers wife who was lying out a fresh batch of loaves to cool.
"I'm well dearie! Thank you so much for asking!" The old lady smiled with relief and a bit of sadness. "But I must say, if you're only here for pleasantries I would scurry along. My husband is in a foul disposition in the mornings and doesn't have time for non-customers."
Raulwicke bowed slightly. "Of course mum. In that case, a moment of your time and your best loaf!" He pulled a gold coin from beneath his cloak. Having slain a Dragon in his time, money had never really been an issue. He had done his best to leave as much of it as he could with Estel, but the Laughing Prince would have none of it.
"Take the Gold Raulwicke! I'm a king! What use have I for gold?"
"You're not a King you nitwit. You're a prince and you always will be as far as I'm concerned."
"Raulwicke my friend, I will miss you when you're off on your next adventure"
"Don't say things like that. You might actually have me believe it"
Raulwicke it snapped back from his memory by a warm crust of bread being placed in his arms.
"Oh thank you so much dearie! This is our best blend! Please do enjoy it!"
Raulwicke smiled and the tears welling in the woman's eyes. Apparently he had grossly overpaid for the bread and this woman was doing her best to try to compensate. Money had never been a major concern even when he didn't have any, so he never understood people's need to get emotional about it.
"Of course mum. But I will ask. I am a storyteller by trade. A Bard. Tell me, who in this town has the greatest story to tell? One that makes people marvel and pause wherever they go?"
The woman paused for a moment in contemplation. Finally, tentatively she replied, "Well, the family Favager has been here for generations. Some say that they were one of the original families of Myreque when it first was founded. But that was so long ago that no one can say anymore.
Raulwicke smiled and thanked the woman kindly and then turned towards the streets once more. The family Favager. He had heard tell of this name when he had initially walked into Myreque. A great history of black smiths and metal workers followed the family. Raulwicke was impressed. The idea that this blacksmiths lineage stretched all the way back to the beginning of Myreque was interesting indeed. These thoughts roll through Raulwicke's head as he travels down the streets of Myreque. He follows the smell of sulfer and smoke until he arrives as a blacksmiths forge, the kernels of creative flame beginning to grow as a man gently coaxes the fire to life.
Ulric breathed in time with the bellows as he pumped air into his forge, heating it for the day's first job. He was delighted to note he was being approached by a person he'd not seen before, which was a rather uncommon occurrence these days. He enjoyed company so he greeted the man warmly, but still remained on task. "Ho, fellow. What brings you to the smithy o' Favager this day?"
"A legend sir." Raulwicke replied. "I was told that one lay in this very forge. Tell me, are you Ulric Favager?"
"That's me, aye. But I'm afeared the legend you speak of is more than just myself." He kept speaking as he prepared his tools to begin work.
Raulwicke leans against one of the post holding up the roof of the forge. It gives a slight creak from his weight as he eyes it warily. "Do tell then sir. The Legend is your family name as I hear it."
"Mmh. You hear true. The Favagers have been here since the city was founded. Always a need for a smith, there is." He began heating a rod of metal intended for creating a horseshoe. "Same hammer, same forge. Quality items."
Raulwicke smiled. Memories of another master smith he had known ages before danced behind his eyes. "Yes, Master Favager. I know a great smith when I see one. I'll tell you this. I seem to be without a decent weapon these days. How much to commission you to make me a dagger? A small one, granted. I'm not that large as you see. But one that can do the job of need be."
Ulric continued to let the bar heat in the flame of the forge, working the bellows a few times. "A dagger, eh? How concealable would you like it be?" He quirked a brow, and appeared lost in thought for a moment. "Regardless I can do it, aye. I just need payment, for daggers I usually just ask the weapon's weight in gold."
Laughter sprung to Raulwickes lips with sudden sharpness and it took him a moment to respond. "My apologies. You simply reminded me of an old friend in that moment. Well, that is fine for me. Money has never seem to be an issue for me, and the weapon should be fairly light regardless. Conceal ability is not the concern so much as form and accessibility. I tend to find myself in scrapes that require me to change effortlessly from a lyre to a weapon. Once I have said weapon, I should be able to handle myself from there."
Ulric let out a hearty chuckle of his own. "I'll add you to the list then. Function over form, aye. Come back in a week or so, I'll have caught up on my other orders by then, and have yours finished too. This comin' party has got me swamped with trivial things." He offered the bard a warm smile before returning to his task, but did not openly dismiss him.
Excitement lights up Raulwicke's eyes. "Ah! You've received an invitation as well? This blasted thing appeared in my lyre a few days ago and, well, I've never been able to turn down revels! I'm just glad there will be at least one familiar face in the crowd!"
Ulric let out a somewhat bitter but still somehow jolly laugh. "No no.. not invited. This kind of event brings a lot of horses to shoe, you see." He withdrew the heated metal and began to hammer it into shape, pausing sometimes to continue speaking.
"Well then you should arrive anyway! As my honored guest!"
"I would love to accept, sir, I really would. And I may show face once I finish my orders that day, and only if that's the case." He smiled at him.
"Well then! I shall expect to see you at the festivities this evening! I must be going though. The costume they require of a bard of my standing is... A tad ridiculous."
"Mmh. Have a good one." He offered a curt wave and respective nod before getting right back to work.
Raulwicke nods his head, and wanders down the street away from the steady clang of hammer on metal. As he turned the corner, walking towards The Bounding Stag, Raulwicke caught the image of the blacksmith banging away at a iron bar that began to change before his eyes. A true craftsman, Ulric had the inner fire of his forge that could very well make him into a Legend. The Legendsinger would watch, wait, and see.