Story I.   Posted by Multner-Small Farming Community.Group: 0
Multner-Small Farming Community
Mon 7 May 2018
at 23:08
Story I
Multner is a small farming community about 10 miles North of Arabel. It is not on any official map and more then likely will never be on one. If it were not for the people still holding on to flat fertile lands, the hamlet would have long disappeared. It's people are a strong hearty and stubborn with a long history rooted deep into the earth. When the goblin wars washed across Cormyr, the people held on as long as they could and returned when it was safe. It is their land. They bled for it. They died for it. They were born upon and they have been laid to rest in it.

Multner is home to about 200 men, women, and children. They are mostly farmers who till the land and raise animals to live. There are a few craftsmen within  town as well who apply their trade mostly to those who live here. Fewer still, are some master-crafters who chose to live here for the quiet and the freedom to work without needless disturbances.

The "Old Road" is an old stone cobblestone pathway that leads from Arabel to Multner and ends at an old stone keep that has seen better days in the center of town. It houses the Foxworth Family who have lived in its walls for generations. Heavily guarded, the family is rarely see outside its walls. They almost never interact with the people of Multner unless it involves bringing supplies inside or dealing with small bands of orcs and goblins that still roam the countryside on a regular basis.

Along the "Old Road" that dead-ends at the Foxworth Keep, is an small inn that has 5 rooms for hire. The building was built around and old Ironwood tree. Its trunk supports interlocking beams and branches to support the building walls and second floor for a comfortable stay. A dwarven carved hearth sits on the north wall, safely cradling a fire.

Halfway from Foxworth Keep and the edge of town on the "Old Road" is a large clearing generally used as a market place where the locals will come and set up stalls to sell their crafts, wares, and other products of their hard work. These stalls are usually only set up during weeks-end and on holidays.

Throughout Multner, there are a number of shops that provide goods and services. Most of these places are lived in by the shopkeepers and owners themselves. These shops include anything from a general store, spices, animals, fabrics, foodstuffs, and so forth.


It is early spring under a blue sky. Off in the distance though, large gray clouds are brewing. Even with the threat of rain, there are several people in the marketplace, decorating for the spring fair. Stalls are slowly being converted to animal pens. Streamers and banners are being slung from one building to the next. There is joy in the air and the people work toward their spring celebration.


This message was last edited by the GM at 00:16, Tue 08 May 2018.

Mov Shovelbender
 player, 1 post
Tue 8 May 2018
at 14:25
Story I
In reply to Multner-Small Farming Community (msg # 1):

A modest farm rests on the outskirts of Multner. A simple, one room house rests on a stone foundation, with a good shingled roof. Smoke rises from the chimney in the mornings and evenings. A good sized barn is located nearby, filled with animals: A horse, three goats and an assortment of hogs, each in it's own stall filled with good straw. Along the walls a person could fine simple tools and pails for use in daily chores: Milking, mucking and general upkeep of hoof and home. Baskets of hooves (for glue making), coils of rope and other usuals can be found. Like hunks of wood too good to burn, saved away for carving during the darker months of winter, files, rasps, tack for the horse - typical things. A smallwagon is parked in the end of the barn, covered up until it's needed for travel.

The land is good, with a small orchard of apple trees that produces a good crop each year. A garden rests near the home, filled with root vegetables and some greens that grow decently if kept sheltered and watered. Grazing land for the goats and horse is fenced off nearby, rotated as needed to allow it to recover.

It's early morning, and in the barn comes the scraping sounds of someone at work. She's tall; with gray skin and dark hair pulled back in a loose pony tail of thick dreadlocks. Dressed in simple linens, a leather apron and gloves. Her bulky form belies her lineage: A half orc. She is Mov. She mucks out a pig stall: hefting away the dung and soiled bedding to replace it with fresh straw. The animals champ away at their food as the woman works, her body swaying as she slides in to her rhythm of work. It's simple, good work. She builds up a sweat as she works on each stall in turn before coming to the goats. Here the gloves come off as she sets up behind each of the three goats, milking them deftly in to a pail. The milk is set aside for storage.

As the majority of chores ends, she steps outside the barn, looking around through the early morning fog. The little house she lives in has a tendril of smoke curling from the chimney.
Mother should be up by now, making the morning meal. She thinks to herself, envisoning the repast for the morning: thick oatmeal topped with berries, with thick slices of bacon, homemade cheese and finally hunks of fresh bread. Her mother knew how to set a body up for the day - which was good, considering the evening meal would be hours away.

The half orc woman enters the barn again, listening to the contended sounds of animals at rest as she surveys the building. It was sound, secure. She exits, a hand reaching to her belt for the handle of her little knife - a measure of safety that came from handling the worn handle. Less of a weapon, it was more of a tool. Things to cut, clean, or pry apart. That sort of thing. She goes to the house, to the woodpile to start splitting wood for the hearth, using a simple hand axe. Her hefty arms gave her all she needed to chop through the wood easily. As she works, she reflects on her life.

It was a good one, though simple.  Her mother made cheese from the milk from their goats and she, Mov, handled the chores and animals. On occasion they went to town to trade their meats and cheeses for goods and services - though usually her mother did the talking. Mov was quietly regarded as potential trouble - one can never be sure with a half orc, right? She usually gave nothing to convince anyone she wasn't trouble, keeping namely to herself. She was fine with that, but when the need arose, most knew her to be polite enough. Proud of her animals and hard work.
The Dark Tzar
 GM, 3 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Sun 13 May 2018
at 22:48
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 2):

     It was a simple life on a simple farm as the sun began to crest over the eastern horizon. The stars began to fade as darkness gave way to the suns light and illuminated the blue sky.

     The small farmhouse was a simple one that stood outside of town in the countryside. It was far enough away to avoid unwanted attention but still be close enough to visit town when needed. The first floor of the small home held a hearth, kitchen, and sitting room. The building was filled well crafted furniture of cherry, oak, and heartwood. In the kitchen, there was a small trap door to a cellar below the floor. Herbs hung from the ceiling to dry. The second floor was a small but comfortable bedroom. A large bed, made of

     Ironwood with wool blankets sat against one wall. It was more than what most farm houses had. However, with so few visitors, there was little need of an explanation.

     In the bedroom, a sleeping form stirred from the nights rest. As a middle aged woman sat up, she let out a long yawn and rubbed the remaining sleep from her eyes. She sat there, staring at her hands for a long moment, calloused and wrinkled with age. When she stood up from the bed, she replaced the blankets and neatly made the bed for the next night rest. Her coal black hair hung down, hiding her face as she finished her first chore of the day.

     In a few moments, she was sitting at a vanity desk and staring at herself in the mirror as she braided her long hair into a tight braid. She was beautiful once but stress and hard years had taken their toll on her body. Where there was once smooth skin around her brown eyes, now were crows feet and bags. Her nose was crooked from being broken many years ago and a scar gave a hint to a wicked split lip. Her mouth, although capable of giving a pretty smile now rested with a sad frown. Her shoulders sagged with a heavy burden that she tried to keep a secret. It was an easy enough feat because those who remembered her would rather forget. Those who didn’t know her only knew her as another farmer, crafter, and wise woman. Those who knew her now, knew her as Lydia Muinderg. She was the quiet widow… crone… cheesemaker… farmer… rumored victim. There were many rumors about her, none that she denied or confirmed. Sometimes it amused her to hear the rumors about her. Other times, it annoyed her. But in the end, she was just Lydia that let a half orc live on her land. Some thought she had taken in a child to grow into the beast. Others thought the beast was her child. Still, others rumored that the half orc was just a hired hand/bodyguard. Lydia, after all, did live alone.

     Her hair braided and neatly cared for; she rose and dressed for the day. The clothes she pulled on were cut in a simple wool dress and her favorite dark green apron. She slowly walked down stairs and started a fire in the hearth and set a pot to boil. ‘Tea would be a good start to the morning’ she thought to herself. As the water slowly began to head, she headed to the cellar and picked out two hunks of meat and returned to the kitchen where she began to cut them into long strips. From one of the baskets, she carefully chose two green bell peppers and cut them into long strips. She continued to choose different vegetables and add them to the bell pepper strips. It would not be long before breakfast would be ready.

     She knew that Mov, the half orc and her daughter would already be hard at work at her chores. She stopped for a moment as she dropped tea leaves into the now boiling water in the hearth. She wondered if Mov was going to try to attend the spring fair this week. Her daughter had a sow that might bring a pretty penny at the fair; or possibly place in a life stock competition. If so, the girl would still have a bit of work to do. And if Mov was going to enter, Lydia would have to work hard as well. Those in Multner still only saw Mov as an orc and nothing more. The very few who knew Mov to be her daughter saw her as a bastard child and an orc. It was two strikes against her and Lydia could do nothing more than to protect her child the best that she could. That meant closing her eyes and loving the child as her own.

     She put all the ingredients together on two separate plates and placed them on the table with forks, spoons, and a knife. Next she poured two mugs of tea, one with honey for Mov and placed them near the plates. When she was satisfied with breakfast, she opened the front door of her humble home, poked her head out and called for Mov.

     “Mov! Breakfast!

15:35, Today: The Dark Tzar, for the NPC Lydia, rolled 21 using 1d20+5.  Lydia's cooking roll.

This message was last edited by the GM at 00:39, Mon 14 May 2018.

Mov Shovelbender
 player, 2 posts
Wed 16 May 2018
at 20:34
Story I
Mov stood up up from some minor work in the barn, hearing her mother calling. She looked around - the task was nearly complete, fitting new straps to the leather tack for the horse. She deftly tied it off and hung it up on it's hook along the wall. She gave the barn a quick once over: Checking water and feed and the general well being of the animals. All seemed content.

She took off out of the barn, boots clonking along as she made her way to the house for what she hoped would be a solid meal. Leaving her muddy, mucky boots at the door she entered.
"Mother - I am here." She said as she hung up her ratty coat. The smells of breakfast filled her senses before she even saw it. The earthy smell of the oats mingled with the hearty smell of bacon and fresh bread.

"It smells so good - " The tall woman washed her hands in the basin before taking a seat, serving up a bowl of thick oats and dried fruits, then piles her plate with boiled eggs and strips of bacon. She's careful to leave a fair share for her mother, who would also be working today. Both women managed and maintained the farm in their own ways. She did the majority of the heavy lifting and dirty work - it was not work she looked down on, it was just practical. Her mother was a slight thing next to her who tended the garden and cheese making and trading. Both women gathered much benefit from the teamwork.

The only sounds were of eating for some minutes before Mov broke the silence. "Mother, that sow - she's ready for the faire I think. I imagine she'll bring us good money if she sells. Her hams are huge! We have two of her piglets saved over, they'll grow strong I think and make for good meals."
The Dark Tzar
 GM, 4 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Sat 19 May 2018
at 12:09
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 4):

Lydia washed up and sat down for breakfast. She gave Mov a smile, thanking her for the compliment but remained silent while she ate. She was deep in thought about Mov. The girl has spent a lot of time in the background on the farm. Lydia did most of the talking and negotiating on prices in regards to the farm. Mov did the labor. She learned well enough in regards garden work and cheese making. The half-orc did have a delicate hand when she set her mind to it. However, her people skill lacked considerably, not that it was any of the girls fault. Simply put, when people looked at Mov, they saw and orc.
Still, Lydia thought that Mov had to find her place in the world. A farmer’s life was not a bad one and it was honest work. But that meant having to deal with the people of Multner. She would, after all, need to obtain supplies, tools and even services to run a farm.

“Well, perhaps you should enter her into the Livestock Show. If she had a blue ribbon, we would be sure to make a large profit off of her. We could use the money to fix roof in the barn and start working on those piglets.” She scooped up some of her eggs and oats onto a piece of bread. “And besides, it would be good for you to get some free time at the fair.”

This message was last edited by the GM at 12:10, Sat 19 May 2018.

Mov Shovelbender
 player, 3 posts
Mon 21 May 2018
at 01:34
Story I
"Well, perhaps you should enter her into the Livestock Show. If she had a blue ribbon, we would be sure to make a large profit off of her. We could use the money to fix roof in the barn and start working on those piglets.” She scooped up some of her eggs and oats onto a piece of bread. “And besides, it would be good for you to get some free time at the fair.”

Mov paused as she scarfed down some oatmeal and berries. She wiped her mouth with a napkin before speaking. "That's really a good point. She's a strong sow, her litters in the past always have good weights come slaughter. She could fetch us a tidy sum. Think I can take her myself? or would you rather go? I know you have cheeses and trades to coordinate." She watched her mother carefully. She usually handled the talking, the trades, the business, the money.

Surely she, Mov, could handle one sow? Hadn't she done reasonably well last year? With her mother's help of course but maybe she could try it on her own for once. Help out.

Maybe. She resumes eating - notably with some manners. Her mother had given her that much. You didn't shovel your food in like a beast at her table. There was plenty to share so no need to hoard food. She'd drilled that into her head as a child.
"I imagine she;d fetch so,e gold. Not too much, she's older. As a meat pig, no breeding.. some gold. As a breeder a little more if someone invests time in to it. But we'd need a boar to cover. McSymmons has that boar, we could use him if he's willing to share again. He wasn't an asshole about it last time, and we got a fine litter this time around."

She broke the yolk on a fried egg, mixing it in her oatmeal, waiting for her mother's response.

This message was last edited by the player at 20:28, Mon 21 May 2018.

The Dark Tzar
 GM, 5 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Sat 2 Jun 2018
at 23:15
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 6):

Lydia eyed Mov for a long moment while eating. It had seemed like Mov was uncertain about what she wanted to do with the sow. Granted, they would get some a decent amount of money for it if they sold her. They would get a bit more if they sold her as a blue ribbon winner. That would be a quick payout as it were. A few weeks and they would get a gold or two. However, if they kept the sow on as it were and used it for the piglets, they would have a steady source of income until the sow could no longer produce litters. Those litters of course could be raised, bred, and sold to slaughter. That could produce more income over a longer period of time.
It all depended on how much time they wanted to put into the sow. Lydia wanted to get some more goats and maybe a cow or two to help produce more milk and cheese. She didn’t have any cows and three goats were not producing the amount of milk that she would like.
She took a bite of a lump of bread that had some of her eggs smeared on it. She chewed for a bit and swallowed it before taking a sip from her tea.
“I believe that if we forgo the sow at the fair and use her as a breeder, raise the pigs and breed them, then we could stand to make a bit more money. But that will take more time. Selling her at the fair will produce a decent amount of money quickly.”
She picked up and iron fork, scooped up a bit of egg and shoved it into her mouth, “But I think….” She paused, “I think I am going to leave that decision to you. Your old enough to make some of these decisions on your own. And besides, you have to teach these people that you are more than some grunt orc on a farm.”
Mov Shovelbender
 player, 4 posts
Sat 9 Jun 2018
at 20:58
Story I
In reply to The Dark Tzar (msg # 7):

Her words hung in the air a while as the women ate in silence. Her mother had a point, as a breedable sow they'd stand to gain more over time than to sell her off wholesale. If she entered the beast in to the show - and she won good marks - then it was an added benefit to the sale of piglets.

The spoon clattered dully in the woodbowl, now bearing smears of oatmeal. With her fork, Mov speared some of the cooked bacon from the platter. She piled it on to the plate, joining it with a few plump sausages, toast and carefully sliced portions of yellow cheese.

Before eating the woman grunted at her mother.
"You're right - they should acknowledge me for being more than some grunt. Here's what I'll do: I'll take the sow to show, see if she can't win some merit and attract more buyers for offspring." She took some cheese, wrapping it in the bacon before popping it in her mouth. After swallowing, she offers a laugh, "Maybe I can attract a good boar for cover, and fetch us more trade or money. But for now, I'll focus on getting the sow looked at. Fair is next week right?"
The Dark Tzar
 GM, 6 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Sun 17 Jun 2018
at 18:58
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 8):

“In a few days, yes. But you will have to get down to the Marketplace to secure a good pen for the sow.” Explained Lydia. “I hear more than a few families had a good year last year and will be looking to do the same as we. That means, the pens will start to get snatched up.” She picked up her plate and placed it into the wash basin and gave her hands a quick cleaning before turning back to Mov. "I would suggest that you try to look for a pen that has a lot of foot traffic so that they can see our sow. She … and you will need as much notice as possible."
She picked up a small towel and dried her hands off before draping it over the side of the wash basin. She looked at Mov for a long moment, concern in her eyes. “The next few days will not be easy for you. You are the very image of the scar that weighs on recent events of this city. They can not like you because they do not know you… And they do not like what you are. You can not change what you are but you can, with luck, change their hearts.”
Mov Shovelbender
 player, 5 posts
Wed 11 Jul 2018
at 19:28
Story I
Her mother, as always hit the nail on the head. "You're right. I'll go in today and put in for a pen. They can't specifically turn me away, even if they don;t like me. Our farm has always been generous, even in hard times. It's time they saw us as the farm, not just you. You do all the footwork, it should be shared." She stood, gathering up her dirty dishes to put in the pail of greasy dishwater for washing later.

"I mean if that's right by you. It'd give you a chance to follow your crafts and I can learn a thing or two."

She dunked her plate in, using a brush to wash the grease and yolk away before rinsing it in different pail. The dirty water would go out to the garden - kitchen waste was carefully disposed of after all.
The Dark Tzar
 GM, 7 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Fri 3 Aug 2018
at 14:41
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 10):

(pushing this forward a few hours, assuming Mov finished her chores, dressed appropriately and then made her way to the fair.)

It was midday when Mov moved her way towards town. Surrounding the small town of Multner was a ten foot tall wooden wall, serving as a fortification from outside threats. It was a nice intimidating structure, even though it was wooden. It would not stop an invading army of course but it might stop a small raiding party of orcs of goblins. In Mov’s memory, those defenses were never truly tested.  Several city guard stood along the top of the rampart, keeping watch in the distance. Two of the towns guard sat just outside of the gate. One, an older man with a puckered scar on his chin sat on wooden barrel once used as a wine cask. The other was a little more than a youngling. His mismatched uniform fitting loosely on his small frame hinted at his inexperience. If Mov were to guess, he wouldn’t be more than seventeen winters. At his waist, he carried a small wooden cudgel while his superior wore an aged shortsword. Mov knew the senior as Mika who fought in the orc wars. The other was unknown to her.
As Mov approached, the young boy sitting on a small upturned box with faded black lettering jumped up and stood in front of the gate, attempting to bar her way. He placed his hand on his weapon, trying to make himself seem intimidating. The older guard grunted and rolled his eyes, and dropped off the barrel with a wince.
“Oi!” yelled out the youngling. Or at least he tried to; it came out more of a shriek. “Stop right there!”
Already grumbling under his breath for what seemed like the 10th time today, the older man limped towards the boy from behind. “Oh leave off, Thomas,” growled the older man. “It’s Mov.”
The youth slightly turned his head but kept his eyes on Mov, “I don’t know that!”
The other dropped his head in frustration. “If your common sense was as enthusiastic as your arrogance, you would have known,” he spat. “It’s Mov. A real orc would not attack the gates.”
“Well, maybe but….”
”Yes, but…”
“In broad daylight…”
“Dressed as a FARMER!” shouted Mika and cutting off the youth and pushed Thomas back to his box to sit on, eyeing him with disgust.
He turned back to Mov with a deep sigh that sounded as if he was sorry he got out of bed, “Hello Mov,” he started in a weary voice. “Where is Lydia? She not with you?”
Mov Shovelbender
 player, 6 posts
Mon 6 Aug 2018
at 12:53
Story I
“Hello Mov,” he started in a weary voice. “Where is Lydia? She not with you?”

The woman looked up at the men, raising a hand in greeting. "She is at home. I have come to look for a space for our pig at the fair. Will you let me in?" she unsheathed her little knife, to show she had nothing particularly harmful on her. Though she knew most people here looked at her with concern - she was bigger and stronger than most of the people that lived here, but it never occured to her to harm them.

There was that time with that fool and his shovel - but he earned that punch to the face and his ruined shovel. The moron. You didn't call someone's mother a bitch and expect it to be overlooked. But that had been a long time ago, and largely forgotten unless you called her by her other name - Shovelbender. As far as she knew the man had moved on, which was fine by her.

"I don't want trouble. Mother stayed home to mind the house while I do this. I promise - " she offered a glimmer of humor, "I won't break any shovels today." She imagined Mika would see the humour in her words. He wasn't so prickly as this younger man.
The Dark Tzar
 GM, 8 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Thu 9 Aug 2018
at 22:57
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 12):

"I don't want trouble. Mother stayed home to mind the house while I do this. I promise,  I won't break any shovels today."

Mika gave an  amused snort, “I don’t expect many problems from you, Mov. I think that there are enough ‘problems’ running around Multner as it is.” He motioned for to put her knife away. He had known Mov well enough that she would have a knife on her. He rarely saw her without it. He also rarely saw her with out Lydia too.
Lydia seemed to be the stronger voice that commanded attention when she wanted it. People treated her like she was the town mayor and even he watched himself around her. It was as if Lydia was born to lead. People respected her when she was around, they valued her views, and, to some degree, they feared her.
And then there was Mov. Mov was the blemish on Lydia. It was Mov that the most of the people mistrusted and feared. She was a bastard child of Human and orc blood, a product of rape during that last orc war. Mov could have gone one of two ways over the years but luck won out. Mika had always suspected that the people had respected Lydia because of they mistrusted and feared Mov. It made sense when he thought about it but he never heard anyone make any mention of it.

He rested his hand on the pommel of his sword and scratched his stubbled chin and he thought for a moment. “But I don’t think there are any pens left, at least not near the judges benches,” he commented with a shrug. He stepped a side to let Mov by so that she could enter through the gates.

As she passed by her raised his hand, “Actually….” He started. “Old Pat McRee at ‘The Gooses Sheets’ just got in her shipment of textiles. I heard that she got in several rolls of fine cloth fabrics of different colors. That place is going to be busy over the next few days with all the people wanting to look their best during the festival. Her and her seamstresses are going to be buried up to there neck in orders,” he explained as he gave himself a nod. “It won’t be near the judges benches but I do know there are still a couple of pens on that side of the market.” He gave her a small smile, “It is not much but there will be a lot of eyes over there and being that the judges will depend partly on votes from the towns people…” he trailed off. “But … you know how it is, everyone is scrambling to be as close as they can to the judges. So… I can’t imagine why you would want to be on the edge of the fairgrounds.”  His eyes quickly flashed over to Thomas, who was scowling at Mika from he little perch on the wooden box. The child looked like he was a gargoyle that wanted to pounce on Mov.
Mov Shovelbender
 player, 7 posts
Mon 20 Aug 2018
at 12:37
Story I
In reply to The Dark Tzar (msg # 13):

Mov gave a small grunt in response as she stood in the crisp morning air. Soon, the cool of the morning would give way to the heat of summer. Mika's words had some weight. She hadn't thought of this development in her eagerness to do something on her own, it could be a gamble. A good one though.. she thought to herself.

"I appreciate your suggestion Mika - I had a feeling it might be limited as far as pens go. It's pretty close to time after all." She sheathed her knife, looking her elder over a moment before giving a little bow of her head in thanks. He'd usually been kindly, in his stern sort of way. She respected him and his words. "Our sow is a good one I feel, three years old, long in body, and gives strong litters. I think we have a chance. At least I'll give it what I can. I'll go check it out right now, a good day to you both." It didn't make sense to have waspish feelings to the other, he didn't know any better - not that it excused anything. But being a bitch about things wouldn't help her or them.

With steady steps, she made her way through the town, towards the seamstress' shop - she found Mika's words to be true. There were several people lined up - some looking at bolts of fabric, others holding their own linens as they waited to be seen. They seemed to small to her, these people. Humans were a frail people, her mother had taught her this, and the refrain rung through her head - a cautionary moment in her youth when she broke someones arm in a child's game of wrestling. The moment stayed with her - the child's mother had been somewhat understanding as she was walked home (by the ear) and given over to her own mother. No one was punished, but she saw her playmate healing over many long weeks and the moment stuck with her.

Mov returned back to the present, picking her way as gently as she could to take a look at the pens on offer. Mika's words were correct - she found three pens, rickety affairs, set up nearby. Fresh straw covered the ground and a flyer attached to each announced they were available. All she had to do was take one down and find an official to make the purchase. She selected the one closest to the shop, folding the paper and placing it in her shirts with her binder. Aside from keeping her generous, frustrating bosom from flopping around, it was useful in holding things. Who would have guessed she kept a spare knife there too? Only her mother, who suggested it when she started to show. "Men can't be trusted to keep their grabby hands to themselves, Mov. You'd probably brain with them with your fist but knife them if telling them no won't work- it'll last longer."
The Dark Tzar
 GM, 9 posts
 Insanity begins with you.
 Let the Story play on.
Mon 8 Oct 2018
at 14:47
Story I
In reply to Mov Shovelbender (msg # 14):

Mika was not wrong in his opinion of the pens. Although it was true enough that the pens Mov found were a good distance from were the judges sat, there would be plenty of eyes to see her prize sow.
Already, ‘The Gooses Sheets’ had a short line of people trying to get there orders in. Miata, the constable’s daughter was fidgeting near the end of the line. In her hand was a scrap of paper she was holding tightly to her chest as if it were one of her treasures. Maybe it was, at least at this point in time. Daniel, one of the local tanners in the area, shifted from one foot to the next while waiting in line. His leather apron that he normally wore was tied around his waist with the top portion hanging down loosely. He had apparently left his lodge in a hurry to get his order in. Even from this distance, Mov could smell the chemicals that were stained into his apron. From inside the building, Mov could hear Old Pat McCree shouting at a customer about ‘stupid gold trim’ that no one in Multner could pay for, let alone get enough gold to actually do the design the customer apparently wanted.

Next door to ‘The Gooses Sheets’ stood the ‘Broken Fool Inn’. A guard, Mov knew as Stick, stood near the entrance to detour any dilemmas that might come from early morning drinking. Stick was a quiet stocky man who never seemed to say much but somehow seemed to always know what was going on around him. He always walked around with a long bo staff with a red ribbon tied to one end.

Opposite of the ‘Broken Fool Inn’ was ‘Bookers General’. ‘Bookers General’ was a general store was ran by an elder, named Hiro who claimed to be a general for some king, prince, or some such. He was never quite clear on whom it was that he was supposed to be a general for. Those who believed him thought it might be someone who lived in Waterdeep. But the accent he used was one that was not known to anyone in Multner. There were many rumors about Hiro and none of them really panned out or made sense. Hiro was a bit of a strange looking old man. His gray hair was always tied back in a top-knot that fold in on itself in a strange and unusual way. Many of the woman tried to get him to show them how he did it. But Hiro would scoff at them and say it was not mean for wemon. He had strange almond shaped eyes too. Most thought that he might be half-elven, though he lacked any real featured of any elf that anyone could recall. He was also taller too, standing just over six feet and muscular. Once someone tried to rob his store with a dagger but Hiro easily disarmed them and literally kicked him out of his store. From this distance, Mov could see Earl McNimis haggling over prices with Hiro through the door. Everyone knew that Earl hated giving up his coin to anyone, not that he had much to give in the first place. He had a farm on the outskirts of Multner about a mile from where Mov lived. Earl farmed cotton on his small farm. He made a survivable living. He had tried numerous times buy land from a neighboring farm to help expand but seemed it never pan out. Lydia once told Mov that if Earl could expand his farm, he could have a more comfortable income. However, the land Earl wanted belonged to the Culper family who worked the land for as far back as anyone could remember.

The flyer that was pinned to the pen door explained feeding and care of their animals was solely the responsibility of the caretaker of the animal. Water would be provided by someone hired by the fair council. It also explained that they would not be responsible for any damages or loss should something happen to an animal. In general, it was all pretty standard information someone would expect. The flyer was probably prepared by a council member who was involved in import/export of goods for Multner. There were two names on the paper that explained who to register the animals with and pay any fee’s associated with the fair.
Dorian Wax was one of the names on the flyer. Dorian, Mov knew, was a candle maker who lived on the north side of town. Her mother would generally go to Dorian for candles if he was not to busy. Lydia liked Dorian and Dorian was a little smitten with Lydia. Page, Dorian’s wife, on the other hand would start grumbling every time Dorian and Lydia was near one another. There was never a relationship between him and Mov’s mother and nothing ever happened. It was just one of those ‘What if’ questions that seemed to linger in the air.
The other name on the paper was a woman named Nijah Sahira. She was from a family who lived in a desert someplace east of Cormyr. Her parents had traveled and settled into Multner when she was just a child and remembered little of the desert. Nijah was one of these kids that seemed to just be there. Her parents never let her near Mov and viewed the half-orc with suspicion and fear. Although Nijah was afraid of Mov, she always seemed to be curious about the half-orc. Still she said very little for Mov and never stayed around her for very long.
The last thing the flyer mentioned was that one of the two officials stated would be at a booth near the judges seats and that Mov could register there.

This message was last edited by the GM at 13:04, Mon 15 Oct 2018.