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Old February 15, 2019, 11:46 PM   #1
Terra-Marie Nightingale
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[Sancta Nova] From Repose (Open/Mod)

~TS: Winter, Ponutis, Era XXVI PF

It had gotten too warm in there, despite the cold of the breeze blowing in off the Bay of Kyathis. Out of habit, the young woman dried her hands on her dull thin apron. It was soiled again from the brackish water borne from cleaning, a thing that she was preparing to dump outside anyway. Hefting the wooden bucket she threw the dirty chilled water onto the street with a slight grunt of effort, some of it splashing back onto her dull brown boots, wetting the leather there.

Sancta Nova was no paradise…no paradise at all. So many times she had thought to herself that one brighting her parents would come to that old tired tormented place and spirit her away back to what she knew. What she remembered…

Loved.

With quick shake of her head she pushed away the dull a decidedly bitter thoughts…the sullen musings of a young woman whose life was so cruelly snatched from her. Her younger eras were hardly perfect but she was happy with the people who made her happiest. She was so painfully naive then…but could she be blamed? She was a girl then, a child who still walked hand in hand with her mother to market despite being old enough to do such things on her own. Her parents had sheltered her from everything when they had lived in Vers. Then things had gotten so bad there that her father packed up his family and whisked them away to far of Frigid River half a world away. It wasn’t so bad then…Frigid River, but then Darkness Fell and everything she ever knew or loved was ripped away for the second time. She had to grow up…go it alone in totality, without with comfort of protection of her doting parents.

It was terrible, had been terrible, but somehow the young woman had managed to keep her head and wits about her…Mother had taught her that much. So now here she was yet one more brightening cleaning floors and making means as much as she could. Terra-Marie Nightingale was (for near pro bono) a scullery maid for a few coins a cycle…cleaning dishes, cooking, turning down beds—wherever she could to feed herself at darkening. Yes a profession her mother was sure to be proud of. Terra snorted to herself at the thought as she returned inside of the too warm shanty. In some ways she was glad her mother couldn’t see her now…a half step away from utter dereliction; a castoff beggar in the streets looking for a handout. Fortunately Terra had avoided this fate, but her skill as a healer…specifically a midwife was largely underutilized in her last six or so eras. Likely because of her age when she had found herself fit for death at Sancta Nova’s proverbial door. Who would believe a child not far from the womb herself was capable of delivering other babies? Even in a place like Sancta Nova--especially back then, not many.

The person who owned this small home that she had been cleaning had stepped out but had been kind enough to give her some coin before departing as they might not return before she had finished her work. Putting away the broom and tidying up the last of what she had used to clean the space, Terra donned the thick but shabby gray shawl she kept for warmth, bringing it up to cover the large mass of thick dark auburn hair that sat pinned unruly atop her head. Olive colored eyes squinted as a dusty gust whipped her face while securing the door of the tiny dwelling. There were other errands to run, market for a bit of bread and perhaps some potatoes for stewing. But first she would visit the Sheepworks…there was a nice thick blanket she was hoping to convince the owner giving to her for far less than it was worth.
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Old March 17, 2019, 10:37 PM   #2
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Names were important. They carried weight. The value of a name could be found in how accurately it described the person or place to which it had been gifted.

Sancta Nova.

Certainly, the inclusion of the word Nova - meaning 'new' - was an apt title for a town that was essentially a collection of temporary buildings to help refugees start afresh. A place of rest while the populace sought a new beginning.

But Sancta? There was nothing 'holy' about this place.

The more friendly name of Newhaven did nothing to mask the hardships that its populace had endured. Every face was scarred with memories; every expression told a different side of the same story. Refugees of the Fog, having fled Arakmat and Lauryl, now found themselves in a transitory state as they attempted to get back onto their feet and rebuild their lives. They had left behind homes; livelihoods; loved ones.

Only the hardiest - or most desperate - folk dared to call Sancta Nova home.

Terra-Marie Nightingale

Winter in the north was usually bitter, but the brightening was unseasonably mild as Terra-Marie set out onto the streets of Sancta Nova. That wasn't to say it was warm, by any means, but it wasn't frozen underfoot like it so often was, instead reverting to the cold mud of kinder weather. The break from the particularly harsh chill made the brightening an ideal occasion to run some errands.

Not all of the stores were occupied, what with the population of the town decreasing as people made new lives for themselves in other places. The apothecary had shut down a few cycles earlier, while enough of the population had left that a handful of homes had been abandoned, the thatch of their roofs no longer capable of keeping out leaks.

A small tavern, which had regular deliveries of ale from Nexus Prime, was always popular, for it offered a fire for people to warm their hands by and enough regular - if somewhat plain - food to fill their stomachs.

The sheep works was in the process of shutting down. Each time Terra-Marie had visited it, there had been less activity; fewer sheep; fewer supplies. But on this brightening, as she approached, she could see it was almost bare. There were still blankets in a pile off to one side, but there was little else. Unaware of the half-elf's arrival, a worker, wearing a thick coat to fend off winter, had their back turned as they set about busily packing a crate.

Argon Shatterskin and Z'kron

The Bay of Kyathis stared coldly at the pair that brightening. Icy and cruel, the water held many dangers, able to freeze a man before he had half a chance to drown. And the two men weren't even at the coldest part of the bay, which got progressively prohibitive towards the east, with snow-caps visible on the distant cliffs.

Perhaps it was fortunate, then, that Sancta Nova was not far away. Whether that was their intended destination or not, they knew that they should be able to find a hot meal in almost any locale. It just happened that the refugee town was the closest.

Up from the beach, travelling through the sand dunes and over a small rise, they would see Sancta Nova a few hundred paces away: a cluster of buildings, a handful of which were allowing smoke to escape from chimneys before it became lost in the cold, grey sky. For the most part, however, there didn't appear to be a lot of activity, from what they could see. A few people roamed the streets, but they were too far away to identify - even their races were unclear at such a distance. Assuming they wanted to enter the town, the pair would need to get their walking boots on, lest the cold sea air find every little gap in their garments.
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Old March 18, 2019, 04:23 AM   #3
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"I told ye that we'd end up at the North Coast if we took a left past that unmarked junction" Argon said, sounding as much as if he was trying to convince himself he was right with the directions as he was trying to convince Z'kron "Now see, we have a community down there! Sancta Nova if I'm not mistaken!"

Argon corrected his belt buckle before taking out his nearly dry canteen of water. He would have to replenish his supplies in town. His bellow was also gargling looking for a proper supper unlike that which he had on the road. He still had his trusty bark that he could survive on but he remained a 'civilised' dwarf who still liked a roaring fire with roast meats, no matter the description, with draughts of ale (even if this community likely served the human 'ale' that the humans were oh so proud of).

The community, ever shrinking, before Argon still felt welcoming compared to the bitter winds and frost of the wilds. He knew only a little of Sancta Nova. He knew it was host to many refugees and it had been hastily constructed to accomodate them. The buildings before him, some abandoned, looked exactly as ramshod as the tavern talk in other towns promised it to be.

Argon knew not what he would find down there and he had some doubts as to whether there would be any work for him. What industry did Sancta Nova have these days that would require a caravan? Seemingly very little. Certainly not one that would travel in winter. Never-the-less Argon had enough savings to get through this winter. There would surely be some kind of work in town if not his usual musings and certainly there would be interesting tales from the surrounds to hear more about.

With that Argon started to walk more assuredly towards the town beginning to let the ancient dracon drag behind in the distance unless he chose to keep step....
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Old March 22, 2019, 09:25 AM   #4
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The druid took a sip from his flask, allowing the contents to warm his throat. He glanced down at Argon-small, responding in measured tones.
“Glad you're leading the way. Certainly I don't remember where we're going. Or where we've been, really. Age, it comes to us all, and that could be contributing to my mistiness. Perhaps, I suppose, it is fortunate that this little camp city is not far away. For our intrepid heroes, that is to say you and I, were about to embark on an adventure beyond the bounds of any they might have anticipated, and to have such an endeavor terminated by frostfall would be mightily anticlimactic.” He nodded quietly to himself as he ended his declamation.

The towering frame of the dracon, somewhat more wizened that it had been in its youth, lurched between the sand dunes. Wings worked only so well to shelter from the winter chill, and his weight was not making traversal through loose terrain easy. True, being very much a Diantar these days (and for many days and years preceding) he could have spread his wings and flown, but the would have been mightly unfair on his short-legged compadre. Even a creature as occasionally silly a Z'kron had limits to the silliness, and intentionally reminding the dwarf of the brevity of his steps was one of them.
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Old March 25, 2019, 10:19 PM   #5
Terra-Marie Nightingale
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On any given brightening Terra would likely have been in a hurry. A hurry to go nowhere usually…mostly because she did not wish to be outdoors longer than necessary. Tobrightening however was not the case. World weary, or perhaps simply cold and tired from the brightening, Terra’s pace was far more subdued. The cold, muddy ground yielded slightly under her steps causing her worn heels to sink ever so slightly into the chilled brown. Every cycle it seemed there was less and less to see in Sancta. People were migrating to other areas of the countryside; some cities bigger, towns that were up and coming…the business were dwindling as well. More than a few times Terra caught herself wondering aloud if she too should be one of them, one of the many displaced that sought their fortunes in pastures much greener—or warmer…or at least less muddy.

But oh to be so resistant to change. It was a fault of hers. Maybe it was simply the unfounded fear that if she were to become too nomadic her parents might never find her. The grumbling sigh of self-resentment nearly caught Terra off guard breaking rousing her from her own thoughts. The small puff of breath dissipated past the tip of her nose, making her wonder if she were simply going crazy. Or maybe she was simply a fool. Yes that surely must have been it. A foolish young woman clinging uselessly to the hope that her overprotective parents were somewhere out there just beyond the bluff searching tirelessly for their sweet stupid child…one that startles herself with the sound her of her own voice.

She fisted the fabric of her shawl more tightly than needed. The self-depreciation that trotted heavy-hoofed through her mind had a way of rattling Terra far more than her loneliness ever did. Maybe she should go somewhere else. Anywhere else. Maybe even into the bay to drown herself for all she felt she was worth. Her footsteps felt even heavier just then, and not for the mud beginning to cake on her boots.

Despite there being plenty signs of life on what would be otherwise a nice brightening for the time of era, Terra seemed distracted from it all, half lost in a swirl of her own self pity, unconscious memory the only thing guiding her steps toward her destination. It was only the familiar outlines of the small stalls and stables of the sheep works that finally drug the half-elf from her melancholy musings. It was mostly bare there—for sheep and supplies, more indication that Terra was wasting her youth in Sancta Nova. Nevertheless there was someone working, and also from what she could tell, the very thing that she was hoping to secure. Blankets. Or rather only one of them.

Terra-Marie stood several steps behind the man filling a wooden crate waiting to see if he would turn around on his own. After a moment or two, however it was apparent that Terra would need to interrupt. Not that she wanted to…she hated to be rude, but she was a customer just the same. “Parton me,” she would call out, forcing her voice to be more than a conversational whisper. “I don’t mean to be a bother but I see a pile of blanket s off to the side there. I’d like see about getting one, I just need to know the price.” Hopefully with such a scant inventory they weren’t looking to dramatically increase the sale amount away from what she really couldn’t afford anyway. But even if they had, she was prepared to make a deal—it was only a blanket after all.
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Old April 4, 2019, 01:20 PM   #6
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Terra-Marie Nightingale

The worker, his back turned and unaware of his potential customer, was grumbling to himself, words muttered under his breath only to be kidnapped by the gentle winter breeze. He was leaning halfway into the crate when the half-elf spoke up, and her voice gave him such a fright that he hit his head on the wooden box with a loud thud.

"Rak's piss!" he snarled under his breath, rubbing his head as he carefully stood and then turned.

In doing so, he revealed himself to be a human with russet-coloured skin, perhaps part-Nairu, with dark brown eyes and a finely trimmed beard. A thin nose ring, gold in colour, managed to catch a portion of the dull sunslight, while his thick coat clung to his slight form.

He paused when he saw Terra-Marie, as if trying to recall if he'd seen her face before, then sent a casual glance towards the blankets.

"Oh, those?" he replied with a gentle shrug of his shoulders. "Not for sale."

And then he turned, as if their business was concluded, and picked up the top blanket from the pile, apparently intending to place it with everything else in the crate.

Argon Shatterskin and Z'kron

Intrepid adventurers, indeed!

For what quest did not begin with an epic journey? To the bandits' lair! To the high seas! To the tallest tower of the castle to rescue the good dragon from the evil princess!

Or, you know, to the rather hapless refugee camp in the middle of nowhere?

Whatever the nature of their adventure to come, Argon and Z'kron made their way towards Sancta Nova, the frosted ground crunching beneath their feet. As they approached, the village began to take more shape, and the pair could soon see that a palisade surrounded their destination. Whether it had been hastily built or had simply fallen into disrepair as the population dwindled wasn't clear, but the collection of wooden stakes that were tied together wouldn't offer much resistance to any force attempting to get in.

There were a pair of human sentries near the gate, though, and they looked almost as tired as the town itself. Their muddied surcoats clung awkwardly to armour that was beginning to rust, but their coifs did nothing to conceal their appearance as hardy men. As Argon and Z'kron drew close, the two guards crossed their spears over each other and blocked the entrance.

"What brings you two to Sancta Nova?" the man on the left asked, narrowing his blue eyes without so much of a greeting.

Neither arrival looked much like a refugee, and the sentries clearly took their job seriously, regardless of their weary attire.
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Old April 4, 2019, 06:54 PM   #7
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Argon looked at the sorry state of ehat someone might have loosely called a palisade and after a moment of silence he said softly Maybe its to keep out the goats?"

When it came time to being stopped from entering Sancta Nova Argon remembered the times in the past when every city guard scrutinised everyone as a suspect spy, and the times that the gates were a mere formality to demarcate wilderness from civilisation and hkw the pendulum swung but this right here? Get barred entry, walk a few hundred meters in either direction and enter through a crack in the fence.

Still Argon knew better to insult the good folk charged with this task. Jobs for everyone no matter how redundant. Gotta keep the cash flowing. He remembwred a queer gnomish accountant with strange ideas in his homelands as he thought those thoughts. He was probably dead by now.

"We be jus' passing through" Argon said honestly "how are the good folk in Sancta Nova? Do ye need any good deeds done?"

The dwarf was perhaps a little unversed in talking to authority. It haolened every time he wandered the wilderness for a time he became a little unstuck and lived as though every person sat around waiting to give a hero a quest. To that extent he was here and hoping that the guards would talk about a hoard ot orcs that needed dealing with. Given the state of the defenses he half expected a quest to be given regarding a hoard of goats threatening to overrun the town.

"but perhaps we could find a trading post for some supplies before we go about yer tasks?" Argon added as if his main need was the afterthought "just the essentials, ales, spirits and moonshine!"

Argon laughed at his own joke except he was only partly joking. The ale was an essential if only because it kept better than water on trips but he did enjoy playing up to the dwarven stereotype at the rightwrong times.
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Old April 17, 2019, 09:54 AM   #8
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The dracon nodded along with the dwarf.

Truth be told, the old druid was as much distracted by the architecture as anything else. Eyeing up the palisade, his architect's eye couldn't help but to appraise it. Was this really the best use of resources in this part of the world? Surely, given the amount of time that the people had spent there, there was a better way to address the limitations of defense? His mental calculus scrolled through possibilities, reflecting back on the times he had taken part in the development of grander projects. Not their fault, of course. Desperate times called for.. insufficient architectural planning, he supposed. An inwards shrug, as he turned his attention back towards the guard.

“We're not much of a threat. By trade, I'm an architect. And a middling druid. Good with plants and minor illnesses.”

He scratched at his chin. Best not to overplay his abilities. Druidic magic had some fairly significant limitations when it came to the miraculous at the best of times. He'd not have them thinking he was here to cause the savior of their fading settlement. This was a province mostly bereft of hope. Best keep it that way, to avoid an excess of cruelty.

“But yes, we're mostly passing through. Tis a bit cold in this neck of the woods. Though, I admit, much better than the fungal forests up north, if I'd have to pick.”
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Old May 22, 2019, 09:06 PM   #9
Terra-Marie Nightingale
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Well wasn’t just the way! Slightly daunted, Terra furiously petted at her shawl wondering what to make of this unexpected development. She wanted a blanket and the ones that were clearly there were not for sale. Probably were meant for that crate he was packing up—a notion confirmed as she watched the dusky-skinned fellow pluck one destined for some other destination from the pile. Apparently this was not a brightening swinging in her favor on this transaction.

With this thought Terra-Marie started to turn away just as the man with the nose ring turned back to his work. Mid-pivot however she paused. Why should she take no for an answer? She had been doing that for most of her life up until this point, but why should the trend continue? She didn’t want to comb what was left of Sancta Nova looking for a damn blanket when there were some mere paces from where she stood.

And so with some level of renewed confidence, (or perhaps defiance) Terra stilled her hands and stood ready to regard the man once more. “Surely all of them cannot be spoken for?" She urged calmly. "Just one I would need. And if not those perhaps there are a few more elsewhere you can offer?” The young half-elf moistened her lips against the cold air, not really sure how the man would respond. This was pushy for her, but she really wanted the blanket. Not because she was in desperate need but she didn’t partially care for being told no when little exceptions could be made when coin was on the table.
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Old May 28, 2019, 07:11 PM   #10
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Terra-Marie Nightingale

Seeing Terra-Marie turn away, the man did likewise as he went back to his work, and the blanket was already in the crate by the time his would-be customer spoke up again. He looked over his shoulder, dark brown eyes beneath a furrowed brow as he realised she had not in fact left.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, miss," he responded. "They ain't for sale. Not for any coin you might have, anyway."

He stood then, turning to face the half-elf, visibly resisting the temptation to sigh as he picked up the next blanket from the pile.

"Look around you, miss," he said, nodding his head towards the almost abandoned street. "There ain't no money in Newhaven. I could sell these in Nexus Prime for triple the price."

He paused, then, putting the blanket down as he cocked his head and considered Terra-Marie.

"Unless you have something to offer that's worth more than coin..."

Argon Shatterskin and Z'kron

The two sentries considered the dwarf and the dracon, their spears still blocking the entrance.

"There isn't much work to go around," the first guard answered, "but you could try the community tavern."

Evidently, Sancta Nova was in such a transitory state that nobody had bothered to name the town's solitary drinking hole.

The other guard snorted.

"A dwarf wanting to get drunk? Who'd have thought..."

'kron's introduction, however, brought a more sober responses.

"Illnesses, eh?" he mused, casting a glance to his fellow guard. "You'll find the infirmary a few buildings up from the tavern."

The two guards stepped back, pulling their spears back to their sides and leaving the entrance unblocked for the two arrivals.
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Old June 2, 2019, 12:28 AM   #11
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Argon paid the guards no heed as he noted that they had fallen for the stereotype act hook, line and sinker. If only he had nefarious intents then this would have been the first step in a long and successful path into darkness.

Instead he intended quite the opposite

"Well good day to ye fine gentleman" Argon said offering a slight but polite bow to the guard before making his way in. He was slightly disappointed that they didn't have any tasks for him but it was to be expected as they were only grunts. They wouldn't understand opportunity if it were to him them on the head and leave them bleeding out on the street.

"Aye Z'kron, matey?" Argon said slightly imitating a pirate "Shall we head over to the infirmary first? See if ye can be of assistance? Perhaps there be some sought of task I be up to though an axeman is better at putting people into infirmaries than helping them out of them"

There was no laugh to his observation. It was merely an observation. That was all.

Getting drunk would have to wait. The guards had given them a hint that they may be of use at the infirmary and duty would always come first.
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