The 14th day of Early Winter.  The Winter Solstice festivities having recently ended, the work of work began again for everyone, including the Viceroy.

It was the day before the proclamation making the Constabulary of Auxene official would be read.  This morning Viceroy Hiram of Pomera made a rare appearance on the east bank of the Aux- he preferred, like almost everyone who has a choice, the more elegant surroundings of Auxene proper on the west side of the river.

With him was a small contingent of guards, several porters with suitcases, and his daughter, Lady Annabel, who had a reputation as an extremely competent and faithful manager.  She was probably the one who actually accomplished most of the things her father announced in various proclamations.

The Viceroy was not pleased at the state of the Constable building.  Annabel had presented him a budget for a painter and plasterer two weeks ago, but it had never been approved.

"Drafty, dirty, probably has mice... had I known..."

Annabel knew that the worst possible thing to say at this time would be "But you did know."  She just nodded.

"Well the poor sots have volunteered for this, and soldiers have slept in worse.. they can fix it up if they wish.  I suppose we should assemble them, and I should say a few words.  Let's see the bag of scoundrels and ne..."

He was interrupted by Annabel loudly clearing her throat, and Bors Oftwain, the old soldier who'd been plucked from the very brink of retirement to direct this project, saying with gentle assertiveness, "Ahem, sir."

"Already assembled, I take it?" the Viceroy asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Behind me?"

"Yes, sir."

"And none of them overheard my remark about..."

"Scoundrels, sir?  No, sir, I didn't hear a thing, and I'm sure no one else did."

"Very good.  Well then."

The Viceroy turned with great dignity, and nodded to the group of new constables.

"Welcome to the greatest adventure in the Southlands.  You are the lucky few who history will remember as bringing law and order to our fair land.  One law, one order, instead of the hodgepodge we've been making do with.  Once you sign the scroll, and take the Crown's coin, you will be officers of the Constabulary, empowered to enforce the law in those departments to which said right is the preserve of the crown; harbors and waterways, markets, roadways, crown lands, and etcetera and etcetera."

Anabel clarified as her father paused:  "For your convenience, noted with bold lettering on the city map in your main office."

"We have here your official livery; the blue and silver tabards.  Once you sign, you have the right to wear these colors.  When you do, you are in the service of the crown and people of Pomera. May the gods grant you favor!"

"Tabards are easily adjustable, fits over armor or winter coat," Bors Oftwain said.  "You'll need to wear them when on duty- when you wear the Blue and Silver, everyone knows you're on official business and not just some random sot yelling Stop!  Of course they only adjust so far, some of you may need some adjusting..."

The old soldier scanned the group.  "Some of you may need to adjust more than others," he added without further clarification.

Anabel spoke next:  "Each of you shall now step forward in turn and sign your contract and take your uniforms and become guardians of the people. I think it would help if each of you introduced yourself as well."

Hedge stepped up and picked up the instrument of writing, "Glenmark Hedgewood, reporting for coi- for duty, mate. Reporting for duty. That's the right word there, innit! I know the name's a mouthful; my mates call me Hedge!" He didn't wait for any form of response, and didn't know how salutes and such worked, so he simply signed his name and then walked over to grab a tabard toss it over his shoulder.

As he moved off to the side to make room for the next poor sod, he noticed the eyes on him, and he awkwardly struggled to get the tabard on properly. He thought he'd put it on backwards, so she spun it back around the other way, then noticed it was the same on either side. He played it off as that one being right, so he left it as it was.

---

Spoiler text: (Highlight or hover over the text to view)
While he does actually struggle with social interactions, just a little Insight will show the tabard bit was just to get some laughs.

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This message was last edited by the player at 23:29, Sun 28 Feb 2021.

Etherian step up after hedge. He was of average hight and build. His horns swept back and up from his forehead. His black hair was short and well kept, as was the small beard he had. "Etherian Wrathmoore." He says once he had a quick read of he contract and signed his name. Taking a tabor, he slips it on as he take his place next to Hedge.

Jack stood over in a corner, his arms crossed across his chest and his back against a wall of the room, his expression a mask of neutrality. He listened whilst the puffed-up gasbag talked, and wondered what he had gotten himself into. He wanted no part of being a flatfoot, no part of wearing their silly blue and silver livery that would suit some noble's jester much better than it would him, and he certainly didn't want to answer to "Royal Constable".

~~Well, it's not like you have much choice, now, is it . . . Jack Smythe?~~

Jack stayed put. He would put it off as long as he could, let the others step up and take the king's coin.

~~Mayhap if I look and listen, I can learn something about these other sods, something that I can put to good use. Or, mayhap not -- but it's not like I've got any coin of my own in play. So, we shall see what we shall see . . .~~

---

OOC: I see that Hedge has chosen my usual color of choice (blue) for his color of speech -- no worries -- first come, first served. Accordingly, I shall choose dark blue as Jack's color of speech.

I like to differentiate my PC's unspoken thoughts by setting them off with tildes (~~) instead of quotation marks, and I prefer to use a different color, since it makes it easy to tell the difference at a glance. I usually use gray and italics for unspoken thoughts, but I can go with a different color if anyone likes to use gray for their PC's color of speech.

Thus, the colored words above are Jack's unspoken thoughts. :)
This message was last edited by the player at 15:13, Mon 01 Mar 2021.

A relatively unobtrusive small young woman waits for a few others to approach and engage the somewhat abrasive Viceroy and his personal entourage before she too steps forward to select the smallest of the tabards, which is likely still going to need some alterations to fit her properly. ”I am Andrea, and if it is no trouble I think I can help clean up the building quickly enough for it to be useful.”

Despite having made her offer she doesn't go anywhere other than out of the way until everyone is all set up and ready to proceed to the next phase of their orientation.

From the formation stepped a creature, no a being, no...it had to be an elf. There was no other answer, it was surely an elf. It was, no she was a sight to behold though as she stepped forth from the formation and began to look around with curious eyes, eyes that...sparkled. Her eyes literally sparkled.

When her feet hit the ground she would stand there for a moment, looking at those that stood before her with her sparkling eyes. Her medium straight light green hair flowing in the light breeze as she took each person in for a moment, weighing them in. Her beautiful light green skin was smooth, and elegant as she stood there. If not for being an elf, one could mistake her for a dryad because of her hair and skin. Despite everything, she was an attractive young elf that stood just barely over 5'6" tall and was lithe.

On her was simple armor, a cloak, longsword, and a pack. Finally her hands went behind her back and she bent forward a bit, offering her new friends a small bow. A bright cheery smile on her face as she stood back up. "Hello! I'm Theirastra! It's awesome to meet you all! I trust we will all have fun together!"

Khay Vass is a bit shorter than most human males, but he stands as if he were a head taller than anyone. He has his fists on his hips, where his tabard is cinched tight.

"Brother Vass, although I suppose it is Constable Vass now, haha," he says in a hearty tone. "Though I invite all of you to please call me Khay."

'Vass' is a name that residents of the city may have heard before. It is common for temple foundlings to be given a surname from historical members of the theocracy.

Despite his apparent confidence, Khay seems to be avoiding looking directly at the ladies present. A slight blush is marring his pale, shaven cheeks.

"Well I'll be a monkey's constable. It sure is looking like we got a right good sodding crew for you. The names Arthur but Arty's the name. I do like that silver and blue yeh got for us." The somewhat ruggish looking man in the fine clothes of someone who should probably speak a little better than he did took a look around at everyone as he put his own name to paper. He pulled on his own tabard, looking like it needed no adjusting. He spoke up again showing his rather obtuse sense of formality.

"So were the tabards the only thing in them there suitcases or is someone in yer flowery entourage moving in with us scoundrels?" And with that said he gave a scandalous wink toward the Lady Annabelle. Arty sneaked a peak at the viceroy's reaction as he scurried back to his spot with the others.

This man clearly didn't care about keeping those in power happy with his lack of social graces.

Jack held his position long enough for six of the seven others to step forward, sign, and take their new Constable's tabard. It looked to him that the bar was not set very high -- they were taking anyone who had walked into the room, as near as he could tell.

~~Well, ye'd best get to it, Jack-me-lad. You prob'ly don't want to be the last one to sign, because people might remember that.~~  And that was one thing that he had learned early on in the Shadows -- you shouldn't do anything that called attention to you, or that made it more likely that you would be remembered, once people started thinking back on what had happened and who had been there.

~~The only one left besides me is that red-headed fellow. I'll let him have the distinction of being the last of the last. So get moving, Jack, an' let's get this done.~~

He didn't see any need for pleasantries -- this was all business, as far as he was concerned. So, without making eye contact or speaking with anyone else in the room, Jack stepped over and sighed his "X". He could read and write Common -- that was one of the things that the Shadows had required of a fellow in his line of work, since from time to time he had assumed various roles that had required it. But he figured that sort of thing was on a need-to-know basis, and as far as he was concerned, none of these people needed to know that he could read and write -- later, mayhap, but not now . . . and so, "X" it was.

Jack picked up one of the unclaimed tabards, but did not put slip it on over his clothing. He figured that he would delay wearing the silly thing for as long as he possibly could.

He noted that no one had handed him a King's Coin, and he wondered if not having taken one might give him an out later, if push came to shove.

With the tabard tucked over his left forearm, Jack stepped back to his spot against the wall of the room.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:26, Mon 01 Mar 2021.

Last in the queue to collect his tabard was a tall fellow with an athletic frame. He moved forward gracefully, seemingly at ease with going through the motions of this a symbolic ritual. His dark skin and red hair marked him as anything but a local, and his voice betrayed him when he spoke. In a deep, low voice he stated his name, "Kovani u Vatri, at your service." The voice was heavily accented. Those that know about these things would identify his accent as coming from a far away land, across the great desert. How he came to be here was a mystery, at the moment.

He picked up a tabard an inspected it. It seemed designed for someone shorter and fatter than he, but it would suffice for today. He slipped it on easily over his shoulder and let it drop into position. Stepping to the register he picked up the quill, dipped it into the ink pot and signed his name with an educated flourish.

The ceremonial element concluded he stepped back into line, then glanced up and down at the faces of the men and women with whom he would be serving. Some looked like they had some skill; other... well, we shall see. His red eyes flashed in the morning sun.

(These initial posts are more background than story, establishing the place and characters, so there will be a few time jumps).

People don't normally refuse the Crown's Coin when they've come this far.  After all, it's real, it's technically the "signing bonus" and quite a few people in the royal service of various careers have immediately rushed out to spend it as they wait for payday to come by.

The more romantically minded tend to use it collateral for a quick payday loan- most people actually save these coins as souvenirs.

It would be bizarre and noteworthy for someone not to take the coin... these are the sort of things one remembers.

Nothing else was in the suitcases.  Just the uniforms.

The Viceroy leaves after the swearing in ceremony.  He's a busy viceroy, many things to do.
 But he leaves the recruits in the care of his Chief of Constables, Bors Oftwain.

The old warrior's face changes after the Viceroy and Annabel leave.  Rather suddenly, he looks more tired, less enthusiastic.

"Well it's a day before the public announcement," he says.  "The Viceroy's cleverer than he seems, he'll want to know you're still here in the morning before the whole city knows we have Constables.  Yes, it's shabby, but we have Mrs. Sosha Veetle, she's the cleaner, she'll just have to start including the upper floors as well.  So unpack, make yourselves at home, official duties start tomorrow."

Sosha Veetle ambles in sometime later.  She's short and heavy and looks like she could walk through a wall if she forgot to use the door.  Maybe she's got some Dwarf blood... though she's not that short, and not nearly that much facial hair.

Her reaction to the new situation is quick, and sounds slightly skeptical.  "They're going to live here now?"

"Well unless they want to get other arrangements, but a bed in the barracks is part of the deal," Oftwain says.

"Barracks?"

"Upstairs," Oftwain explains.

"Well I'm here once a week and it's a silver piece each visit,"  Sosha says.

Oftwain makes it three visits a week.  Sosha nods.  "I'll see what I can do."

 She looks at the new Constables.  "Let's not be sloppy, I'm not a laundress, I clean the floors and windows and stuff.  Welcome to the neighborhood, I'm Sosha.  We've got a nice market across the street, that's where the crier does his thing and sometimes we've got entertainers there.  Also there's a herbalist and Quokker Fruit and Vegetable and a lot of good little shops.  Now if you need a launderer, I can take your things in.  That much I can do."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:35, Tue 02 Mar 2021.

Kovani headed upstairs and found a bunk that suited him. It was close to a window and had a view over the river, such as the view was. He might regret his choice tonight when the wind blew, but he would find that out later. For now he stowed the little gear he had in the foot locker at the end of the bed. As the others appeared he looked around, then addressed the Chief, Bors Oftwain. “Chief, where do the women sleep?” He gestured towards Andrea and Theirastra. “They can’t stay in here, it wouldn’t be... proper.”

Theirastra would saunter over to Kovani and smirk, wrapping her arm around his shoulder's tightly that smirk soon turned into a grin as she pressed up against him. "What's the matter, afraid to sleep in the same room as little ol' women? Scared of us?" It was obvious this one was going to be trouble, and had no issue invading the personal space of others.

"No worries, mate. The only way it ain't proper is if the people here weren't taught words like 'consent' and the idea that no means no. And if anyone ain't learnt those lessons yet, there's a nice open seabed right outside where we can go have a nice swim and talk all it out."

Kovani pushed the strange looking woman away, an angry look on his face. “Scared of a woman? No!” He was clearly uncomfortable with the invasion of his personal space. His eyes flashed bright red and his hands began to glow. “It’s just not proper to share such a small space. If there’s nowhere else then maybe we can stretch a curtain across, give you ladies some privacy.”
This message was last edited by the player at 16:30, Tue 02 Mar 2021.

She laughed at him. "My friend, this longsword is not for show. Nor is this dagger. Anyone touches me without my consent they are losing a hand and I am gaining a trophy." Then she smirked again, and moved closer to him. "And are you sure you're not afraid of women? You sure pushed me away like you were." She said, tapping his chest playfully. "Or is it you just do not like elves?" A small mock pout played at her lips as she put her hands behind her back, and bent over slightly in front of him, facing him, looking up at him.

Kovani realised she was teasing him, and not the sort to back down. He broke into a grin, “Women I like, Elves I like... but Elven women... now that is a recipe for trouble. I only seek to protect your modesty, but it seems you are more than capable of protecting it yourself.”

She chuckled at his words. "Trouble can be fun, and I like having fun. But we have to be careful the type of trouble and fun we do." She said, nodding. Then she leaned in and whispered. "You should see the trouble I cause with some elven wyne in me!" Then she stood and laughed again.

Finally she smiled simply and offered him a more formal bow. "Theirastra Nailo, Eladrin Bladesinger at your disposal." She said as she stood back up with a polite smile. An Eladrin Elf, and a Bladesinging wizard to boot.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:01, Tue 02 Mar 2021.

Kovani smiled, then formally returned the bow. “I am Kovani u Vatri, formerly a... servant at the Grand Temple of Ogun-Shango in Oo’mpele, on the other side of the Great Desert.” The brief scowl on his face as he said ‘servant’ betrayed him, maybe that wasn’t quite the truth. “I have travelled far, and now I am here, to serve as I choose.”

While not quite ignoring the others Andrea does focus herself on the task at hand, finding what looks like a mostly clean bunk not near any door or window, with at least two walls next to it, likely in the farthest corner.  Opening the suitcase she quickly retrieves the uniform, or what passes for it, and in one quick motion slips off the loose fitting overall style clothing she had been wearing before, while technically facing away from the others not a whole lot of mystery remains to disguise what can only properly be called the petite female form. . . for about ten seconds.  Into her bag goes the overalls and out comes a much more appropriate uniform cut outfit that she slips into just as fast, no insignia suggest it being an official uniform but some tailor was clearly trying to imply it, and the colors match the tabard perfectly.

Only then does she seem to catch up with the conversation as she turns around, belting back on the fancy rapier to hold the tabard in place.  ”If you two are going to need separate shifts so you don't need to be in the room at the same time that might make things a little complex.”

Etherian lets the others  ahead of him as he makes his way to the barracks. He  wasn't picky about the choice of beds, though he did manage to find one with a small bookstand next to it. Setting his bag on the bed produced a small cloud of dust, that he waved away. It was clear that much of the day would be cleaning. He listened as the others bantered and smiled at the antics. Most of Etherian's belongings went in the foot locker at the end of the bed. Though he did place a few different books on the book shelf. For those who had an eye for such things, the were a mixture of languages. Draconic being the main bulk of them and more than a few in Infernal.

Khay reaches out with a trembling hand and wide eyes as he accepts the coin. He holds it up to the light, basking in humble awe.

When he comes to, he hears the squabble about genders sharing living space. He opens his mouth a few times, but cannot get any words out. He blushes bright red at all the pugnacious and bawdy comments of Theirastra.

Then Khay turns to Kovani. "Ah, another servant of the divine. What sort of studies have you engaged in? Martial arts, perhaps?" he says eagerly.
This message was last edited by the player at 18:40, Tue 02 Mar 2021.