Chapter 7: Bankruptcy

The snows came early this year, and the majority of your fishing has already turned to rainbow and brook trout. Luckily, Star Lake has yet to freeze over thicker than a thin sheen of frost in the morning, so you have a few more weeks of fishing -- if you're lucky.

Luck doesn't seem to be on your side recently, though. Or anyone else's, for that matter. The Autumnal Equinox passed just two weeks ago, and like every major holiday for the past year, the only thing people can talk about is the lack of travelers - or sailors. More accurately, people can only seem to talk about the lack of supplies those travelers bring. Metals, spices, foreign clothes and other amenities have been diminishing in quantity...and skyrocketing in price. Even things as simple as a fishing hook are hard to come by. Thankfully, you usually fish with nets, so you haven't been hit too badly. Still, it's worrisome.

The sun crests over the hills to the east, lighting the three tiers of Weatheryn in succession. Martin Calhoun is likely prepping his store for the rush of fish the two of you will hopefully pull today. He'll be counting on you to unfasten the Pelican from the snows last night.

You wait for what seems like an unusually long period of time before it occurs to you that today is a Sunday, and the folk of Weatheryn are likely heading towards the chapel before work. In fact, as you glance up, you see the first of a string of families throw open the doors of the chapel and begin to enter.

Being so close to the Equinox, the sun is almost perfectly aligned with the nave of the church, and the light filtering through the stained glass is absolutely brilliant. You wonder if it might be better to go to church today; the last time that thought crossed your mind, the only thing you could think the whole time was that you'd rather be out on the lake. It seems like a wash -- on the one hand, you could fish anywhere on the lake without competition. On the other, everyone else seems to be so uplifted by this preacher who came to the town only months before you. Maybe he was the reason your brother was afflicted by such a spiritual fervor.

At least you've taken breakfast and cleaned the snow off the sails. Regardless of choice, you'll be the first on the lake this morning.

You make your way up the Western Stair to the second tier, then up the Ayrshire Stair, a grandiose name for what amounts to a set of rectangular cuts in the cliffside hardly eight feet wide. Idly you notice that the Baron's flag is flying just below the flag of Weatheryn over the meeting hall, a sign that Mathias is in town, likely at the service. The sun just crests the top of the chapel into a clear blue sky -- a good portent for favorable weather in the coming days. Yesterday night was worrisome due to heavy winds, but the lake has yet to develop a thick rime of ice, and very little snow fell on the town.

While you consider the weather, and in particular the heavy winds, you can't help but overhear what you assume is a related conversation as you stand near the doors of the chapel. It's Nori and Skyla, two of the older youths of Weatheryn.

"...tree, huh? That is strange. Speaking of strange, a couple of days ago the Carteret's were putting the roof on the home Duncan and Maisi are supposed to move into when the baby comes -- no, no wait, that's not the strange part. The strange part is that the next day they all wake up to move furniture into the house, and POOF!" Nori waves grandiosely with his arms and exhales a gust of steamy breath, "no roof! Not a sign of it, save a couple of tiles nailed to the wall and some broken..."

You lose the rest of the conversation as they pass into the chapel carrying firewood, their voices lowering to a whisper as the service has just begun. The Reverend, relatively younger for a man of the cloth, is a popular preacher due to his passion, faith, and oratory intensity. Those same attributes make it difficult for him to fit in among the villagers, though, as he seems to have difficulty turning off his zeal.

"...glad to see that you all made in through last night's storm. Today we will be hearing from Chapter 4, starting at verse 48 of the Holy Radiance Book." The Reverend pauses a brief second to allow those who brought their books with them to flip open to the page, also doing so himself.

"And then the Great Gods came to..."

After reading the passage, he delivers his sermon with obvious pride and excitement. "To conclude our service today, let us sing from our Worship book, page 135...... 'Praise be to the Radiance' "

The sermon ends on that note, and the Baron conspicuously remains behind while Anrai Stanwood immediately goes to speak to the Reverend. The majority of the other families filter out of the chapel in short order.

You see Martin leaving with his wife. He greets you familiarly.
"Cormac! I certainly didn't expect you to see you here. I see you're already in your work clothes...thinking about getting a head start on the competition, were you?" He half sighs, but catches himself and tries to keep a positive timbre to his voice. "I can't say i blame you. It's getting hard to buy anything you can't make yourself for any amount of money. In any case, time's wasting -- i'll be down at the boat just as soon as i can."

You agree, and let him know that you'll meet him there soon.

Reverend Jacobs finishes his conversation with the Baron as you wander around the chapel area. He must have overlooked you, because instead of moving to speak with you, he begins to walk back to the library addition. You follow and knock lightly on the door's frame. The reverend looks doubly surprised to see you -- first at your quiet approach, then at your presence in the church at all.

You have gained a new party member!
The thread "Holy Mackerel" is now open to you. Please respond to both this thread and that one HERE.
Also, it helps if dialogue is written out, because so much of your character's flavor can be expressed through language. And i can respond to it more accurately.

Cormac shivers slightly, then steps halfway into the room.

"Ah, Reverend, you must have a busy day if the Baron stopped to speak with you, but do have you a moment? I was hoping you might have heard why we have so few travelers --- and if you had heard why we have so few travelers named Connla, why, I'd be especially attentive."

He eyes the shelves of books.

The figure in the doorway (from the party post) is a huntsman from the foothills of the mountains to the north. He rarely comes into town, even for supplies, so you can't quite bring his name to mind.

"Not unless you intend to spend the day fishing," I say as I glances towards the main doors, then back at the Reverend. "But I don't know what he" I shrug towards the door, "wants of you."

As I leave, I greet the newcomer with a half-smile. "I nearly missed the service myself; and I would wish you good morning, but I must get to my boats." I continue out, and return to the boat.

"SURE!" I call back to the huntsman, as I return to him and the Radiant Man. When I get close to the huntsman, and when there is a suitable break in their conversation, I ask "You have news for a Connla?"

Ain't no fish in the water, either, I think to myself. "This is good news, thank you Braedon. I'll be here at daybreak. But now, I go to my boat while the weather is fair; to hear people talk, yesterday's skies must have been stranger than I thought."

I leave at this point, and if Braedon is as well, then before we part ways, I shield my eyes and survey the sunward part of the sky as I ask "You knew my brother then?"

Braeden lumbers along as he considers your question, almost physically chewing the words as he plows into the heavy church doors, opening them without slowing. He begins to talk as he ambles along, and to keep up you have to maintain a sort of half-walk, half-trot.

"I'm not sure anyone really knew your brother. Askt a lotta questions, though. I seem to recall thinkin' that our talks were a lot more like interrogations than conversations." Braeden paused to gauge your reaction to that last statement. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Wanted to know about the past, mostly -- sorts of things most ev'ry one else leaves well enough alone. Guess that's why he'd spend so much time up at the Adair place, talkin' to Yordan an' readin' his books. Dunno if that paid off for him, though. People started to wondering 'bout his wife, what with him bein' gone all the time."

There's another break in the conversation as Braeden begins to descend the Ayrshire Stair ahead of you. He picks up where he left off as soon as you reach the second tier.

"Can't rightly say she seemed to mind, though. Always had a sort of half smile playin' round her mouth all the time, like you told some kinda joke only she heard. Cute girl, i liked her well enough. I'us prolly the only one thought so 'sides your brother, ev'ry one else seemta think she was laughin' at them." Braeden shrugs. "Hell, maybe she was, who cares? That's prolly why she didn't so much as flinch when your brother decided they was to pack up and leave. Wasn't like she had any fam'ly here anyway, 'cept that old coot called hisself her step-daddy.

I wonder if he's still alive? Guess i don't really care either way." Braeden begins down the Franciscan Stair to the lowest tier. "And look, you've got me ramblin' on just like yer brother used ta do. You prob'ly know all this already anyway." He turns into Weslyn's shop at the bottom of the stair, pausing for just a moment in the doorway. "I'll find you at daybreak at the church, then?"

My neck goes stiff when he says our talks were a lot more like interrogations; "Family habit, I guess."

* * *

"Hopefully Yordan will be able to ramble on about my healthy brother and his young wife." I stretch my neck. "Yes, you'll find me at daybreak. Good day, trapper."

I walk a short ways after we part ways, glance back to see which way he goes, then continue on towards my boat & Martin. "You ever hear of a trapper named Braedon, or an old man Yordan? Bradeon tells me that Yordan can tell me about my brother."

Pause for dramatic effect.

...and strike a pose.

"Braedon's gathered an intrepid group for some other reason, but they're meeting Yordan tomorrow; so you'll have to fish without me. Or," I leave the pose, "perhaps the weather will be as odd tomorrow as it was yesterday."

++we fish, dock, eat dinner, play cards, sleep.++

I wake before dawn & meet the rest at the church.

You've always been the only one in town (other than Weslyn, presumably), who's able to get more than two words out of Martin at a time...or perhaps you're the only one patient enough to do so. At your question upon arrival, he says.

"Yep, Braeden." And unties the mooring ropes, steering you out into Star Lake. An hour later at least, he continues.

"They came here together, after the war."

Another two hours go by in silence and work-related talk exclusively. The Martin speaks again.

"Cute girl." You look up, confused. "Yordan. Had a wife. Think she died in childbirth." Silence. What to say to something like that?

"Was sad. Gin" He says, pointing at the cards and standing up to haul in a catch.

It has become late quickly today, it seems like, and you pull the boat back into dock, a small, but respectable catch in tow. There's no reason to catch more since salted fish isn't being shipped or carted out of Weatheryn anymore, which is the root of your burgeoning financial troubles. Weatheryn folk take care of their own though, so you aren't worried about running out of food. Still, it's humbling to lose your source of self-sufficiency, something which Weatheryn citizens are so proud of.

You finish up work and return to your flat. Packing takes some time as you carefully consider what is worth carrying and what might be too heavy for the trouble, and by the time you are finished the sun has been down for over an hour. Candles are in no short supply, at least. You lie down in bed, thankful to finally rest, knowing that tomorrow will be a strenuous day. However, as soon as you relax, dogs begin to howl and bark -- first one, then several. When they finally stop, you fall asleep instantly.

Waking up before the crack of dawn, you begin to climb the steps towards the chapel when you see Braeden just ahead of you. He slows to wait for you to catch up and mumbles a gruff greeting. Dawn's feeble light strikes the chapel tower against a perfectly clear, cold sky, but the chapel's bells do not ring out this morning. Strange...the Friar must not have told the Reverend he would be outside the city limits, you think.

Braeden seems not to notice the oddity though, and you enter the chapel's large doors side by side. You are greeted by a most unusual sight -- the Reverend, on the stairs down from his loft, dressed for travel; the Friar, dressed in his snowy-white robes with the all-seeing Eye of the Watcher emblazoned over the heart sitting before the altar's dais, and a stranger, wrapped in blankets, sitting upon the dais before the trinity altar. A rat scurries from a pouch on a shelf near the Reverend over to the stranger, who scoops it up and places it on his shoulder. Braeden, the Friar, the stranger and the Reverend all inhale sharply and simultaneously, and there's a pause as you all consider each other.

The thread "Three's Company" is now open to you, once i get around to writing it.

I wave back somewhat groggily; the rat startles me awake, and I sit in a nearby pew, heavily dropping my pack beside me. "A traveler, eh? Where you're from, is it fairing any better than Weatheryn?"

I chuckle. "Oh, nothing's wrong with Weatheryn. It's just odd that lately, so few travelers have come through our city."

Cormac smirks at Braedon, then turns to Morgan. "The hyenas will be glad. But they're always glad. Anyhow, you seemed to make your way here and don't look much the worse for wear. Do you, or do we, have all the supplies you need? Packing last night took me longer than I expected," Cormac glances at everyone else's packs, "and the church bells aren't going to give us more time today by chiming backwards."

/OOC: I usually just check here to look for updates, so I often do not notice posts on the "Technical" or "World Information" boards.

Cormac dons his traveling clothes one-handed until he finishes his baked apple.

/OOC: this is my ideal list, I don't think there's anything that doesn't belong

hat, handkerchief, suspenders, heavy gloves
scarf, cloak effective against rain, "pocket money"

Bag:
soap, bandages, 3 canteens, food, +2 apples
bedroll effective against rain, 8ft cord (to turn bedroll into small tent), towel/blanket
deck of playing cards, Booze de Weatheryn

small spade, large utility knife (w/saw-back), gutting knife
fishing line & hook, spare line, hand net
candles, lantern (backed with steel mirror), flint & tinder
1ft x 3ft red cloth, heavy needle& thread, extra sack, hatchet

all that sounds fine. the booze de Weatheryn is likely hard cider, as a shipment of it just came in yesterday to the Stone Archer Tap and Tack, although that never came up in your thread.

Hard Cider is perfect.

"This seems more complicated than it did an hour ago," Cormac says as he glances over at the Reverend and Morgan.

After all three of us are safely beyond the tree, I give it a soft push sideways - hard enough to sway a man but soft enough he wouldn't have to move his feet.

Quote :

I've changed my mind. Anything you /say/ you can put in the party thread. Anything you /do/ goes in your own thread. Sound good?

You do realize that we can't post in the OOC Game Updates thread, right? Also, I'm fine with posting dialogue in party threads.

...and what's with all the archiving, anyhow?

The tree gently sways with your push, rotating around the few roots still tangled in the ground. A moss-covered boulder, previously out of sight and trapped below the edge of the roots, curiously floats to about head level. Your companions, oblivious to your actions, continue ahead.