A slim black journal

[Noa]

 Bridh
Guest
Posts: 109
(8/14/02 1:05 pm)
Reply
ezSupporter
A slim black journal
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A slim black journal is added to the others along the shelf of the tavern...


On the table before you lies a very slim journal. The cover is thin, fragrent black leather and it is bound so perfectly that the individual stitches can not be discerned. There is a small, yet intricate lock serving as a clasp, and a small silver key tied to a red string, hanging from within the fine parchment pages of the book.

Bridh, this is your Candidate Quest Journal. In it you may record your findings as you go about your Quest. Do not be surprised, however, if you notice messages in the margins. We may at times glance over your writings and add thoughts of our own.

Bindi Thunderbelly
Master of Initiates

***

The slender red-head slips quietly down the steps of the dock, moving towards the door. The sounds of small feet follow without much effort to hide themselves, and the half-elf turns, fading softly into the shadow by the sands.

"No hiding, Miss Bridh!" the small halfling child exclaims, bouncing on her fuzzy feet as her hands hop to her hips with a tilt. Bridh just shakes her head, fading back to view as the small girl bounds towards her.

"Halfling was here to see you!" she chirps, tugging at Bridh's armor. A slight cock of the head as Bridh looks down at Chera. The vast majority of Lendel's folks don't know how to get down here, at least not past the storeroom, so safest assumption is that Bippin came calling now that he knows she's back.

"What did he want?" Bridh murmurs, picking a bit of fuzz from the little girl's tunic. These children get into everything, and looks like this one has been rolling in the sand under the launch again.

"Not a he Miss Bridh, was a Lady Halfling!" is the reply as the halfheight child buzzes around the woman, tugging her towards the door. "She brought you a present!" comes again as Bridh begins to move. Woman? Present? Last time some woman brought her a present here they were trying to kill her, and the Den was forced to add more wards. The fact that her children had spotted this person, walking so carefree to the Den, concerned her. The young woman opens the door, the halfling girl a few feet behind.

"She spoke the language Miss Bridh!" came a few feet beyond. Was a rogue then, or at least someone who's been taught the tongue... has been an awful lot of that going around lately, and the Den Masters and Mistresses were becoming peeved.

Under the deck and through the wall they went, the child bouncing as they walk.

"Can you read Miss Bridh?" she asks now, tugging at the back of her armor.

"Aye Chera, and you could too if you paid attention in your lessons and stopped pestering your brother," she replies, making what progress she can down the long carved tunnel with the child in tow.

"Why would someone give a rogue a tiny little lock?" Chera asks next, nearly to Bridh's door. Tiny lock? Obviously the children have been playing with whatever was delivered for Bridh.

Bridh fades into the nothingness as she approaches her room, pushing back the door slowly. Unabashed, Chera bounds in and does a nose dive into her bed. So much for the element of surprise. Stepping out of her shadow, the halfelf steps to the desk in her corner to see what this item is, and immediately smacks herself in the forehead.

"Journal," she mutters, shaking her head. She flips the little girl a platinum and sends her out. "Don't let Elisi catch you without having done your chores again," she calls as the little one runs down the hall, the shiny round peice in her hands. Alone again, Bridh takes the bound book to the bed with her, waving off the lock and peeling open the stiff pages. A single line is written atop the facing page in a neat, small script.

"Find out what we do to relieve stress."

Stress? "Dear gods, kill me now," she mutters, closing her eyes and plopping back into her bed. Of all people they had to ask that question... between her half-sisters, her work underground, finding homes for the women and children she aquires, and just dealing with her work, well... STRESS! She can remember her last stress fit. Luckily she is good friends with the guards near the bank, because she doubts they would have appreciated the bath of clay they got that day. Took over a week to get the clay off all the walls after they carried her home. Stress... stress is why she was gone for months on end after she took her two girls to their new home in Surefall. Stress... stress is knowing that no matter what you do, for who, with who, to who... you are damned to be alone because of what you do and who you are. And she, who as much as her job depends on dragging information out of people, hates interogating her friends. She has so very few of them, she doesn't usually think to stop and ask them what their favorite color is, ya know. She has an easier time picking on someone than asking them something.

Sigh.

Sliding to the floor and onto her feet, she shuffles to her desk and finds her quill. She settles into the small chair at her desk and presses the journal open, folding down the pages.

"Things I do to deal with stress..." she begins at the top of a page, writing slowly in case some poor soul ever needs to read it.

"1. Throw clay. Aim for the wheel.
2. Find poison bits. Preferably store bought.
3. Swim. Nude is good, 'cept when they catch me.
4. Drink. Note: must find something stronger."

She peers at her list a moment, trying to think, and a fiery glint lights her eyes. Moving to the facing page, she starts a new list.

"Things that would be fun and stress relieving..." she scrawls, grinning down at the small journal.

"1. Find a way to pry Fayd from his armor...
2. Employ the assistance of the halfling druid to help with Fayd's armor extraction...
3. Find ways to dent Fayd's armor...
4. Find new uses for leather straps. Enlist Fayd's help..."

She looks down at the list with an evil little glow in her eyes, pressing the journal closed and attaching the tiny lock. And to think, up to this point, she really didn't like Koada'al... Somewhere between the chair and the bed the armor sheds off like a second skin, clattering to the floor in heaps in her wake. Under the pelts crawls the slender red-head, the candle blown out as the room settles to darkness.

<ooc: ic hints>
Anyone who is particularly nosey and would start to ask around, can find out a good bit about Bridh if they ask the right people. If folks care to be nosey, you can find my stories at www.rainweaver.com/EQ . You'll find some background info, as well as nearly a year's worth of her personal RP threads. Note, Bridh would find out that someone was asking around, since well, it IS her job afterall. So if you do poke, come RP with me

***

An entry for Quea...

Bridh returns to Freeport to deal with her sister's business, weighing heavily on her mind. Looking for something to distract her for a while that won't take her yet again out of the city, she sits at her small desk and pries open the small leatherbound journal.

"Having hunted for members of the Saga family, I went looking for Caillou. When the Feir'dal finally stopped her running, I found her among a number of tha Saga family, hunting ogres. Seeing this as an opportunity to speak with them, I sat.

The first to take on the question was Quea, who for all her short stature, seemed to lead by pure energy and not by any use of threat or violence. Respectable, that...

Another mental note, before I get to her reply, is her lover Korg. I had bumped into him in Rivervale in a predicament requiring a cleric's abilities to suck my beaten and battered little butt back to the moon. I'm not sure who was more embarassed about the fact that I was naked, but by his respectable response you would know that he was not interested and was quite taken. Now I know by whom. Those two are adorable. I am sure she'd pummel me, but seeing them sit there cuddling reminds me of the children and their dolls, at least in proportion. Rather cute. Maybe I'm getting soft... *sigh*.

Anyway... having asked, her reply was that she likes to kill giants to relieve stress. The mere proportions of that must be impressive, but we'e already proven that she likes em big, eh? She rreminisced on the vision of a giant's hand coming tumbling towards your small head, and how stress has no place there. My opinion? She's seriously into adreneline."

***
An entry for Caillou...

"The energetic Fier'dal was the next to answer. I often wish I still had that much youthful exuberance. I would say, by watching, that she nibbles on things, herself included, when she was stressed. She did at one point admit that she munches on things to relieve stress, and I had to ask if that included halflings. Apparently, it does...

Her primary stress relief, however, is travel. Seeing where I ran to to find her, I can believe this. Apparently she likes to travel when either stressed out, or just bored. She said that she tries to not get stressed, but reality dictates that it does happen now and then.

At this point she let an arrow fly and tore off after an ogre."

***

An entry for Korg...

"Polite, as usual, the Northman wanted to make sure that Caillou was done before he began, as she had been a bit sidetracked by the lump of now dead flesh on the grass. Korg barely got a word out before Quea tells the handful of us that Korg likes to mud wrestle naked for stress relief. I have to admit that this could be pretty enjoyable for all assembled but well, respect that fact that he's spoken for...

Korg replied that the most relaxing and stress relieving activity for him was spending time with Quea. He admitted however that it can also be stressful, depending on the mood of the day. Can't fault the fellow for being honest. Fishing also came to mind as his attention turned back to the landscape, and then he found his final answer.

One expects a Northman to be at one with the landscape, and Korg explained that when off hunting or travelling, when you turn a path or reach the peak of the mountain, and you look out over the valley, or up at a magnificent waterfall, that just being in nature, and enjoying it, and finding some new hidden place, is peaceful for him. You'd have thought him a druid at this point. She's rubbing off on him, I'm sure."

***

An entry for Siffo...

"The final, silent member of the group was Siffo. Pegged immediately as one of my own profession, I wasn't so shocked at his silence. I would never be asking such questions of people either if it wasn't requested of me. He comes across, to me at least, as the strong silent type. Certainly one of my Prince's people, he contains all the gusto and sheer bravery of Bristlebane's folk all wrapped in a rogue's unobtrusive package.

For him, I had to repeat the question. I doubt he was much impressed with me, as I was interrupting his ogre slaughter. Did I mention the strong silent type part? Aye well, his reply was that he didn't experience stress. I think we all know that that is difficult to believe. Certainly as a rogue, stress and adreneline is vital to our success in tight spaces. Stress isn't *always* bad. Having pressed the issue a bit more, he did finally reply with an answer that I, at least, thought was perfectly appropriate: live life, and savor each moment. Almost like my Mistress Elisi would tell me, don't sweat the small stuff, and remember to breathe. I do think he has more of a point that he realizes. We get so wrapped up and stressed out over such trivial, mindless things, that we completely forget how to enjoy life.

At this point in the evening, we were all rather tired. Siffo and Quea were both speaking of sleep, and we all smelled of dead ogre. The moon was calling me, as I had left someone up there the evening before, and I wanted to go hunt him up. As well, he was my next and final intended targ... er.. vict... er... questionee. =) Quea was a darling and did that fingerwiggler thing and plopped us in the norther plains of the Karanas. The few remaining, which at this point I believe was Caillou and myself, ran to the spires to wait.

Having arrived finally, I went searching for my intended, but felt his presence more than I found his person. Perhaps stress was the topic of the day. I decided to leave him with his matters for now, and I touched his mind and let him know that I would be back in them morn, and he could destress at me then. Or maybe I'll help him find new and improved stress with my armor extraction techniques. Until then..."

***

An entry, so to speak, for Fayd...

There is a great deal of scribbling and scratching out of beginnings of things on the page labled at the top in her neat script, "Fayd". Finally halfway down the page, listed as number five, reads:

"5. He has a favorite swimming spot near the docks in butcherblock."

There are quite a few more entries scribbled out beneath that one as well, and a light blue smudge on the page. You can tell at this point that the journal was pressed quickly closed, as there are no more marks on the page.

***

As you return from the great city to check in on the Den in Rivervale, you find a small halfling child sitting atop Ace's bar. Copper ringlets frame her face as she swings her legs back and forth. A small platinum medallion sits on a fine chain at her throat, and you recognize it as the token of the Freeport Den, or the Coalition of Tradefolk, same difference. The barkeep looks to the girl then nods to you. At his suggestion, she hops down, bounding towards you.

"Miss Bindi? Present for you!" she exclaims, thrusting a small black bound journal towards you. It's quite familiar, as you dropped it off no more than two moons past. Taking the small book and sending the youngling on her way, you will find the lock intact and used. Upon opening it, you find five entries, as requested, and a token of the Freeport Den much the same as was around the neck of the small child now bounding across the yard.

***

Bindi smiles down at the youngling as she takes the journal and pats her on the head. She then goes to the bar and orders a stein of ale. She deftly unlocks the journal and sips her drink as she reads over the pages. The token falls out into her lap and she fingers it lightly, smiling at memories. When she comes to the page covered in scribbles, she squints, then cocks an eyebrow, then squints again and finally gives up, tucks the journal in the backpack, pays for her drink and leaves.

*Thankee Bridh for a wonderfully done journal. I shall submit yer name to tha council fer vote now!*