The Enclave > Known Roads > Corner of Creation

Unwelcome Folk From Port

Corner is right ... look at this! I could spit clear from Coast Road to Forest Road and not hit any of these eels. Yes, and reach out to pull twigs from the Greenwood while doing it. Now, I'll not be saying yours was a bad idea in light of Harand's mood; no fingers to be broken if none of us are in the safehouse, and there's the truth. I'll be saying this, now, and mark my words, the Stone Road would have been friendlier for our sort of folk.

Narry a trader on the Coast Road, there was. Aye, and woodsmen and farmfolk haven't coin to rub together neither. Where are we to help ourselves to a way back into Harand's good graces? In the fields? In the Greenwood? By Salin and the Lady, I've never set foot in a better-named village. I've seen plenty of corners in plenty of buildings in my time, and I'll tell you what I've seen in all of them ... dirt! Dirt and no coin, mark me well.

Nothing to be done about it this day, I suppose. There'll be cheap ale in the tavern; a few mugs will be the better to think on.

[ Posted by Reason on June 1, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

An Evening at the Old Tavern

Eslei, you called it right and true - there is a New Tavern, or was, leastways. These folk say it was burned by Neth years ago ... no, burned with Neth in it. Blood and shame, too, if the ale were as good and cheap as this! These four walls look fit to fall soon enough; floor like the Unending Sea and not a steady chair to be seen.

No, this old eel here goes by the name of Osten. Practiced with the ale he is, but I'll have him under this half-sized table yet, mark me true. The tavern master, he's off and away - the sour face who bumped Geath on the way through the door. Gone to steal more ale, I'll wager, for I don't see how else he makes his coin.

Honest dockfolk from Port, that we are. Dockfolk and a fisher girl, yes Eslei. It's quiet enough in midsummer with the players away to One Stone and Islebloods sailing the coast for pleasure; too little work for honest dockfolk like ourselves. Isn't that the truth? Eslei? Eslei? So it's on the Known Roads we travel and maybe find a little coin here and there.

There she goes, moon-faced already. Can't hold her ale, and there you have it, but Geath will keep her facing the right way. Not like us folk, Osten. This coin here and the ale it buys tells me that one or other of us will be proven the better afore too long. Osten, Osten ... where's an honest eel from the dockside going to find coin to hire in the Corner of Creation?

[ Posted by Reason on June 2, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

The Morning After, the Price of Progress

Claws and spines, my head! Water, Geath, bring water from the well! By the Three Powers, I'm bleeding my brain from my ears to find us scent of coin, and where is Eslei? Warming some woodsman's cot, no doubt, after she showed you the shadows. You call yourself one of the safehouse favorites but couldn't even keep a drunk from trouble! As well for Eslei that she never thieved in your company - she'd be rotting with the prison hulks these past years.

If there's coin amidst these glowfish guts and village eels, it'd be with the merchant Greser or the smith beside the Forest Road. Good coin poured down that old fool's throat in the tavern and spears inside my head this morning to learn nothing more than any of us could see! We may as well have lost our fingers and fallen on the dockside for fisherfolk to throw their catch upon. We should have taken our wits and knives to the Stone Road for the summer season, mark me well!

[ Posted by Reason on August 15, 2005 | Permanent Link ]

How the Work is Done

Where I passed the night is none of yours, Geath, and none of Rell's neither. If he's angry as a speared red crawcrab, then let him be. Come walk with me while the clouds make it pleasant - Rell will be back to his own self, eel teeth and bile, afore the day is out. You may owe him a purse, but that's all you owe him.

Here is good a place as any to sit for a while, across from that worm-eaten shop and the headman's manse. Honen is his name, the headman, and he has coin, or so they say ... and it's none of yours as to how I know who tells which tales. To my eyes, all the headman's coin is paid and gone to stone and wood, a sight heavy for three from the dockside. Oh, it'd be a fine place to live if you like farmfolk and woodsmen - and Neth each winter - but you can't carry away a manse and its furniture.

You see the watchtower yonder? The platform atop has been walled and closed for as many summers as certain folk recall, but someone up there takes provisions and watches the Forest Road for Neth after first snow. The villagefolk say it's an Ammanene from the Watch of Trees - no coin there either way, I'll wager, but any locked chest was put there to be opened, isn't that right Geath?

Rell was all for thieving from the smith or the old merchant? We won't be touching the smith's coin, and you know why. Rell must still be Lost in his ale - he may as well take coin right from the hand of the healer at the shrine of the Beautiful Stranger, there beyond the headman's manse. I'll not be throwing tomorrow to the cats.

[ Posted by Reason on August 16, 2005 | Permanent Link ]