Author Topic: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin  (Read 50638 times)

Renodin

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Re: The Tales of Nemean JeVondair Renodin
« Reply #15: June 05, 2019, 09:41:48 PM »


A Peppy Captain
 

Quote
"Aye Sir. Any request for what I should say when I find him?" Daeron was already walking away to plan the troops march; shouting over his shoulder.

"Just say I sent you on Hogni's behalf, bring him back kicking and screaming if you have to!"
~Daeron Vurkow


Woodsmoke rose from beneath the pots of tar and lard. The war camp was in full swing as the Talon had given out his orders for the day. Everyone was to set out and face the enemy. However, ''not just yet'' was a proverbial addition to those orders and as such, everyone seemed to spend time making last minute adjustments to their gear. Most prominent and also noticeable to anyone with even half a nose, were the rows of strategically positioned tar refining workshops. The men that worked there were burly, soot stained and covered their face as best they could. Often with a length of cloth or some other rag, tied behind their head.

Their labor was in high demand. Not because there were ships to waterproof but for an entirely different reason. The birch bark they were using as their main ingredient was worked and worked until all that remained was a fine yet very dark substance. Some of the batches would be darker than the feathers on a raven while the more premium batches bore a fine amber tint. Every soldier hated rain and it was this product that ensured that their gear remained repellent to the stuff. The added benefit was of course the ease with which they could mend  small gashes or otherwise damages to their leather-wares. Ranging from armor to just about anything if the need was pressing enough. And it certainly was that after weeks in the field and after several sieges. Not to mention the near oily substance that could be used to prevent rust. The burly men made a killing well before there ever was a battle.

Having realized the very same issue as every other warrior, Nemean was negotiating the price for two pots of medium quality tar. The wind coughing puffs of smoke occasionally from the fire into his face and his nose continuously assaulted by the ever pervasive stench of the entire tar operation. ''What?!'' The young Noble's eyes popped open wide. ''20 Silver pieces a pot?! Are you mad!'' Nemean licked his lips and instantly regretted it as the scent previously borne on the wind was now transferred into his mouth.

''Well, supply's low.. Demand's high..'' The bare-chested, chubby man offered as he pulled his stained white scarf down his chin. His eyes full of sympathy but his lips moved with naked joy. ''So, what will it be Lordling?'' A sweaty and pork fingered hand rubbed the stubble on the chubby man's face. A throng of seasoned warriors milled about, most of which had the presence of mind to pretend not to notice the exchange but they all watched it like Magpies spotting stray silverware.

It was at this time that one man emerged from the throng. Moving quite succinctly like he didn't want to be noticed yet neither wanted to take away from his outward confidence. As Nemean readied his response to the Tar peddling, fatslob of a man, for he has gained such status in the young noble's mind, the approaching man spoke. ''Sir Nemean? Of House Jevondair, Former Ward of the Xerarch Selenia, Knight of Oligarch?'' Each title a hammer-blow to the common born soldiers. Each mention forcing them to slink away a little more. Oblivious to the effect, Nemean turned around. ''Yes, I am he. Who sent you?''

''I am the Captain to Sir Daeron of House Vurkov.'' Not waiting for the youthful Noble to respond he pressed on. ''Hogni awaits your presence, for some time now.'' As if to add further weight to the statement the Captain slightly raised his chin. In the background the fatslob had retreated back to his workshop. At the mention of his brother Nemean feel a new sense of urgency. He glanced to where the fatslob had been but discovered the man gone. A deep furrow marred his featured for a moment. ''Very well, lead the way Captain.''

And so the captain led the young man to his master's camp. Seemingly out of the blue however a question came ''Where did Sir Daeron hire you? I've found captains to be quite elusive.'' At which the captain offered nothing but a smirk and a select choice of words. ''We are a rare breed indeed young master.''