• Closed • Spiderman, Spiderman. Does a couple things a spider can

[Woe]

27th of Ashan 721


Woe arrived early last night. He'd gone to his house, to make sure that Iago and Soraia were alright. Iago was uncharacteristically quiet. The whole business with him being in and out of his house, out and about, it was weighing on Iago Woe sensed. He couldn't readily discern the specific emotions. He wanted to be careful when allowing his Empathy spark reign to monitor his children and those closest to him. So he'd not gone as far as to delve into context clues from the boy's tangle. But, he could tell he wasn't doing well. Woe resolved to make it up to him later. For now there were more important matters, and Iago would have to understand that. Soraia would help him.

Which brought him to the subject of his former slave. He couldn't keep her indefinitely, that was for certain. He'd have to make reparation and grant her the house he'd promised. Or at the very least buy a sizeable dormitory in one of the barrack-like living spaces that existed in Egilrun. Come to that, Woe didn't feel his own lifestyle was well served to occupying a large mansion. It wasn't efficient, and so it wasn't pleasing to Chamadarst.

He'd gotten word many dozens of trials ago from the chief ranger, Elliot, that they'd set up the ranger's headquarters in Egilrun. And Woe had seen a greater presence of Elements around Egilrun. So his letters had the effect that he'd intended. He was glad that the Albarecht was willing to listen to her residents. Perhaps she wasn't entirely incompetent. In fact, chances were she was the total opposite.

In any event, Woe had business at the Ranger Hall in Egilrun beyond just checking in on them. He wanted to borrow a horse, to make for Scalvoris town with all speed. He had an appointment on the thirtieth that was vital for him to make. Not only that, but he wished to send word to his Patron, to make a prayer.

It couldn't be ignored the obvious influence of Chamdarst in Egilrun. From the Glassblower's Union to the focus on commerce and people mostly minding their business. He knew this place would be important to his patron, whether there was a specific reason for it.

Woe came to the Ranger's Headquarters and was swiftly met by a man tending the horses outside. They were leashed to a large fence-like fixture outside the camteen. Woe nodded to him, and he merely spat and shrugged.

"I was hoping to borrow a horse... but first, I will need to check out the progress on this hall. I'm Woe Morandi, I sent word to Elliot that he should build it here."

Herman's face twisted in a bit of a sour pout, as he continued brushing the coat of his horse. "Not my horse y'ain't. And anyway, you'll wanner talk to Oram I think."

So saying, Herman excused himself without a word, making sure to tighten the leash on his horse and the bar it was tied to. He gave one accusatory look toward Woe and then went on in to fetch the woodsman.

Woe's expression was passive, in spite of recognizing the man as a misanthrope. He merely waited outside, looking at the other horses that were on offer in the stable.

[Oram Mednix]

Well gawlee! It’s Gomer Andy!

Oram sighed and put his glasses on to peer at the reports on the table before him. Knowledge, supposedly was power. And information was knowledge. What the until-recently-unlettered traveler hadn’t realized, before now, was that very often, information was paperwork. Reports were starting to come in, and Oram had yet to invent a system for organizing them as they did so, or a good routine for processing them quickly. It wasn’t bad now, but the hunter could tell that, in a matter of trials, his desk would be overwhelmed by a chaotic pile of paper information, which he would need to figure out how to organize before it would start to tell him the stories he wished to learn from it.

A bright sliver of light and a puff of air both crossed Oram’s desk, the latter scattering some of the leaves of paper, which he hastily snatched and replaced, as best he could, to their original spots in the disorder. He shot a sour look at the figure that stood now in the doorway. ”Why didn’t you knock first?” he grumbled at it. Then, as soon as he recognized who it was, he asked: ”What’s wrong. Ornot acting up again?”

”Ornot’s fine,” responded Herman. ”That ain’t why I came. There’s a fella come to see yer. Odd fella what looks like he ain’t slept in a season. Asked for you by name. Says his name’s….Gomer Andy or somethin’.”

Oram scowled. He was pretty sure Herman hadn’t gotten the name right. Gomer Andy. The name wasn’t familiar, nor was the description. ”What else did he say?” Oram asked the Horsemaster.

Herman scratched his head. ”He said somethin’ like he spoke to Elliott about building here, like it was his idea or somethin’.” The ranger gave a disbelieving huff at that.

Oram remembered something: a letter Elliott had shown him the very first time they had met, from someone who had requested the Rangers increase their presence in Egilrun, even set up a headquarters there. ”If this is the person I suspect it is,” he told Herman after a trill, ”then our being here may very well be his idea. Where is he?”

Herman spat. ”Pah! I knew -er was a reason I didn’t like him. Place is a worse dump than Darbyton. I left ‘im at the stables, of course, where I found him.”

Oram made a frustrated noise, then rose loudly to his feet. ”That was neither secure for us, nor polite to him,” he groused at the animal minder. He shook his head. ”Never mind, take me to him, assuming he’s still there, along with all our horses.”

Oram paused. He had no idea how to receive visitors like this. But as little as he trusted his own manners, he trusted Herman’s even less.

A couple bits later, Oram found the tall, thin man Herman had described. The ranger hadn’t been kidding about his looking like he hadn’t slept since Cylus. The man who had written that letter had obviously had a lot on his mind. The hunter hoped the ensuing trials hadn’t brought him to this. He approached and introduced himself, extending his hand to the taller man.

”Welcome to the Ranger Headquarters,” he said, keeping things simple, and not overly formal. ”I’m Oram Mednix. I was told you’d wanted to talk to me.” He cast a sidelong, scowly look at Herman, who was already on the other side of the stables ostentatiously ignoring both of them. He looked back at the visitor. ”You were announced to me as ‘Gomer Andy’. If that’s not correct, please tell me how you’d like to be called.”

[Woe]

Woe was watching the horses while he waited. They appeared well trained, if perhaps uneasy at the presence of a stranger, alone with them without their usual carer. Or maybe it was just Woe's imagination. He'd not much experience with horses, and perhaps it was a bad idea to even think of borrowing one from the Rangers, given that. Still, he had to be in Scalvoris in just a couple of days, and a horse or cart was the only way he could ensure he made his appointment in time.

Within a little more than a bit, someone came out, another woodsman by the look of him. Woe was silent for a moment after the man skeptically asked if Gomer Andy was his name. He frowned, not recognizing that it was in fact a garbled version of the name he'd given to the man. It took a trill, but eventually, he put the words together. "Yes, I'm Woe Morandi." He didn't raise an issue with the other man's mispronunciation, in the event that it was an effect of an accent endemic to Darbytonians.

"I'm here to see if you all need anything from me. I was one among a few suggesting that the Rangers set up in Egilrun."

Woe looked to the horses, and eyed them for a moment before turning back toward Oram, "I was also wondering if I might borrow a horse or a cart to make my way to Scalvoris. I need to get there in a couple trials for an appointment. I can pay if necessary."

With that said, Woe waited for this man to answer his request, with refusal or further questioning. "I'm impressed at how fast the Rangers set up after being asked to establish in Egilrun. I thought it'd take at least half of Ashan to even see results..."

[Oram Mednix]

Okay, but the horse stops every time you say your name…

Woe Morandi. That sounded like the name he remembered from the letter Elliott had shown him, or at least more like it than “Gomer Andy” did. Assuming this was indeed the man who had written that letter, he was definitely worth Oram’s time; apparently, Herman had, if only out of his own desire not to be bothered, made the right choice to come get him. The traveler listened to the pallid visitor explain his errand. His brow creased slightly as he listened. Was this his decision to make? Herman had apparently told him that he, Oram, was the one to make this request of.

The hunter’s eyes followed those of his guest towards the horses. These were mostly the large, heavy-built field hunters the rangers favored for their patrols. Mule looked like a runt among them. There were currently only two draft horses in the stable, and these were getting some much-needed rest; the cart teams were rarely idle these trials, with so much lumber and other goods to move in. He looked back at Woe.

”I can’t spare a cart right now,” he explained: ”Too many supplies and materials moving in and out still. As to a riding horse…” he mused a moment, walked down the aisle between the stalls, looking among the hunters appraisingly. He settled on a dun with pale silvery markings around her muzzle. He approached and patted the mare, who nuzzled up against his hand.

”Take Nosy here,” he decided. ”She’s a good mare, rugged but calm and easy to ride. You won’t have any trouble with her. Just be sure to return her to the Menagerie when you get to Scalvoris.”

”Sure Refed’ll like that?” came Herman’s voice from the other side of the stable.

Oram frowned. ”You made it my call, Herman. This is my call. I’m sure Refed will be fine. How often does he venture out of this place?” The poor eidisi bore the brunt of planning and supervising all the work that went into getting the headquarters ready. When he did leave the compound, it was almost always on a cart, which never returned empty. ”Besides,” Oram added, ”she could use the exercise.”

The Horsemaster grunted and went back to inspecting saddle girths.

Oram would wait for Woe to inspect Nosy if he liked, who would placidly inspect Woe in return, then he would suggest that they step outside to talk further. After the animal warmth of the stable, the early Ashan air was crisp, and there was a slightly biting breeze. Looking around at the ongoing repair and construction work, Oram nodded at Woe’s remark about their progress. Acknowledging compliments was something the trapper wasn’t good at.

”I can’t take too much of the credit for all this,” he responded. ”Refed did a fine job scouting and negotiating for this place, and there’s a joke around here that he’s secretly the Mortal-born of Setting Up Base Camps.” Oram offered to give Woe a quick tour of the place, including showing where he had set up his own office and quarters, at the former counting-house just outside the harborward entrance.

”This place apparently used to be a compound used by one of the Pirate Lords,” Oram explained. ”Not sure which one. Had a big fire in… 714, I think? The pirates never fixed it enough to move back in before the Shadow Beasts came. The place was quite a mess, still is to some degree, but it has room and enough stuff to work with. We didn’t have to start from scratch.”

In front of the counting house, Oram paused to see if Woe wanted to step into his office. ”As to what I might need of you, well, basically information. You were the one who alerted us to what was going on here with Slag’s Deep, so I assume you have continued to keep your ear to the ground in the meantime since you wrote that letter. What can you tell me?”

[Woe]

Woe entered the Ranger's office, when invited. It might be best that they have no ears overhearing what they had to talk about. And for that matter, Woe was somehow sure that he could trust the Ranger in front of him. He had an air of trustworthiness. But then, Woe had been wrong upon examining the surface of tangles before. What might be honesty on one person, could well be something entirely different on another. Empathy was not mind-reading, and it was not fool-proof.

Woe didn't particularly care for taking credit for tipping the Rangers off. In truth, he'd only spent a few words into the effort, and that torch had been carried forth and far by the people of the Ranger's Hall. Woe had little to do with that, other than a warning sent. It wasn't as if he'd forwarded nels to help establish them.

At any rate, there was no real sense in getting caught up in the fact of who had credit for what, and why. Woe nodded at his hand-waving responsibility for the quick set-up of the Ranger's Hall. In truth, Woe was only glad for the fact of their being there, he didn't mind or particularly care who claimed credit. Woe had only been a singular voice in the darkness, where most were strangely quiet in Egilrun. Yes, people were strangely reticent on a few issues, "I've uncovered a little bit in my time. With some help, mostly from people outside Egilrun. It seems the people here don't want to mention Slag's Deep, let alone anything related to it. Something has them spooked, and no wonder, given the reputation of that place and the reputation for it's master to have an eye in the sky. I've theorized that the Watcher's Union is in his pocket, or else somehow involved in the dealings."

Woe reached for his satchel, and pulled out a set of notes, written in two different hands. One of them Hart'sIt's in there somewhere and one of them Perdita'sAlso in there somewhere. These notebooks, he handed over to Oram. He figured the Ranger could make better use of them now, and for what it was worth, Woe wasn't sure he'd need them where he intended to go. The war was swiftly coming to a head, and he couldn't linger in dalliances with woodsmen. Sacrifices to make, Immortals to consult, that sort of thing.

"Check those documents? And perhaps if you're so inclined, we can cross reference our findings? There's not much there, I have to admit, but what is there is eye-opening."

[Oram Mednix]

I ship my drainglasses at night...

Oram listened to Woe’s description of his investigations, and then put on his spectacles to examine the documents the man presented. One of them in particular caught his attention. ”That handwriting looks familiar,” he muttered absently, as he looked over Perdita’s notes. He did not, however, press Woe for details on who wrote it. It would certainly have been interesting, though, if it had turned out that Woe’s associates included Perdita, someone who had helped Oram just over twenty trials before.

Oram looked up from the notes, taking off the glasses for a moment to regard the bay outside his window. It actually was a good view, one the hunter did not take nearly enough time to appreciate. ”Why the Watcher’s Union, in particular?” he asked after several trills. ”If you don’t mind my asking, where are you hoping that will lead you? Do you think that they’re privy enough to Slag’s Deep’s plans to help us?” It was an intriguing idea, but Oram was not convinced that it could bear fruit quickly enough with war practically at hand, especially not with security at the Union as tight as it seemingly was.

The traveler had a thought, replaced his glasses, and re-examined the notes. ”A few trials ago” he explained, ”I talked to a local acquaintance who said that Slag’s Deep has been engaging in some odd purchases of late. They’ve been cutting their usual ties with local merchants whenever possible, buying everything they can from elsewhere. In particular, they don’t sell the sand they mine to the local glassblowers like they used to, nor are they buying glass back from them; they’re doing all their glass business with Viden these trials. And they’re doing a *lot* of it, reportedly.” He thought a bit more. ”The Watcher’s Union handles deliveries that come into the harbor. Acts as agents for their consignees, that sort of thing. I wonder if they’re a middleman in all this glass business. Hmmm…”

He looked back up at Woe. ”I’m sorry, I’m not much of a note taker, so I don’t have anything juicy I could show you. Also, my own efforts haven’t been focused on private activities in town. However, this could still prove quite helpful to us. Thank you.” He handed the notes back to Woe. After the man went about his business, Oram would go talk to Jim, who had been monitoring traffic into the harbor. Having the lead that this might be a special job for the Watcher’s Union might help narrow Jim’s efforts more usefully.

Looking at his visitor, Oram made a questioning gesture. ”Is there anything else I can do for you?”

[Woe]

When Oram noted that the handwriting looked familiar, he didn’t betray any recognition of the statement. He wished to keep Perdita’s involvement with him as quiet as possible, and he still hadn’t all the facts on Oram himself. Not that he didn’t trust the man, he seemed forthright enough, but one could never be sure.

When he mentioned the Watcher’s Union, Woe quirked an eyebrow, ”The Watchers are responsible for most of the parcels and consignments that pass through Egilrun, as you say. It’s fair to presume if they aren’t knowingly complicit in Slag’s Deep’s smuggling operation, they have eyes all over the place. They’re a good place to start for the gathering of information regarding parcels coming through Egilrun.”

Woe was genuinely surprised when Oram mentioned Viden. He almost let it show on his face for but a moment, before returning to a blank affect. Viden was involved? More than he had recently, he wished his associate Llyr Llywelyn was available to inform on his contacts in Viden. But the Archmage was impossibly difficult to reach when he didn’t want to be. And Woe could take a hint.

Woe nodded in thanks to Oram, ” It’s alright, I hope those notes are of use to you. I have my own copy so you can keep those.” So saying, Woe sighed and began to make for the exit to Oram’s office. [color=lightsteelblue}” Thank you, you’ve been very informative and helpful, Oram. I’m glad we have such astute observers as you in Egilrun.”[/color]

That said, he departed from the Ranger’s Headquarters. He still had his appointment in Scalvoristown, and he might be running late.

[Doran]

Woe:

Knowledge:
Animal Husbandry: x2
Politics: x 3
Investigation: x 3

Loot: Temporary use of riding horse (presumably until he arrives in Scalvoris), a field hunter mare named “Nosey”, and its tackle.
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 15

Oram:

Knowledge:
Etiquette: Leaving visitors unattended is poor hospitality.
Intelligence: Collected intelligence needs to be organized.
Investigation: Leads may have a time limit not only on availability, but also on usefulness.
Leadership: If someone looks to you for a decision, insist that they then accept that decision.
Logistics: Assigned resources can be reassigned.
Logistics: Leaving visitors unattended is poor security.
Meditation: Contemplating a pleasant vista can refesh and clear one’s mind.
Writing: Taking good notes not only makes it easier to recall things, but also to share them.

Loot: A copy of notes made by Perdita Westcott about the Watchers’ Union.
Lost: -
Wealth: -
Injuries: -
Renown: -
Magic XP: -
Skill Review: Appropriate to level.
Points: 15

- - -

Comments: Spiderman! I wonder why I never thought of it. Woe is Sintra’s son and has her Blessing!

That being said, I thought this was an interesting first (?) meeting between Woe and Oram. I feel for Oram. All that paperwork that he has to deal with sounds quite frustrating.

I thought it was amusing that Herman thought that Woe’s name was Gomer Andy, and I was just as amused when Woe didn’t recognize that it was a garbled version of his name and thought that it might have something to do with an accent. That was a great scene!

Woe seems to get quite involved in Egilrun. I didn’t know that he was among the people that suggested that the Rangers set up in Egilrun.

I also can’t help but wonder if the history of the building where they are will ever play a part (Oram mentioned that it used to be a compound used by one of the Pirate Lords).

Either way, I like that you didn’t use a random building, but one that has a history!

I wonder what exactly will happen now that Oram has those notes. I look forward to hopefully reading future threads in that regard!

Enjoy your rewards!