People come and people go

[Quint Caravel]

20th of Fall, 813 A.V.

Quint Caravel had a great deal on his mind. Though usually a very carefree and happy man, his season-long dreams had stared to take a toll on him. Now he was more quiet and thoughtful than usual, and while not exactly paranoid, he found himself paying attention to his surroundings in a way that he had never usually done before.

He looked at the clothing of the people on the streets. He watched one man who he guessed was a squire, and he followed that man for a bit as he appeared to be running some errands for someone. Probably his knight. Quint did not want to bother the man so he did not ask him.

Quint also walked by the castle, and he thought of his brief meeting with the sergeant. mint, as it still held sentimental memories for him. Not real memories of his own, but stories he had heard of his family. His grandfather and those who came before him had been minters there. Quint said a small prayer to Xyna while he passed by.

Inside the castle, he realized that he had never visited the mint itself, as he was not even sure he would be allowed inside. They were very busy after all, and there was a great deal of money lying around. He did not know how Mizas were made or what went into their manufacture, but Quint believed it must be a very expensive and important process. Even if it was a simple matter, the end result was coin. Mizas. Enough to rule the world. That would have to mean dozens of guards and Syliran Knights.

He asked for directions from one of the men, who found a knight old enough to remember the Caravel name, then got directions to the northeast corner of Stormhold Castle. Of course he was escorted to make sure he did not try anything, but he still had time to look around. He observed that it was a fairly large place, employing in his estimation about hundred and twenty full time workers. There were actually only twenty, but math was not one of his strong suits.

[Quint Caravel]

Quint approached the Mint with some trepidation. He himself had never been here before, but his ancestors were. His grandfather and great-grandfather had both served here in the city as minters. His great-great-grandfather and his great-great-great-grandfather before them, as far as he knew. The Caravels were known minters: craftsmen and metal smiths and stone masons. And not just minters. They were a sect of craftsmen that were devout worshipers of Xyna.

A family legend mentioned that his great-grandfather's brother had even been in love with a woman he suspected of being a priestess of Xyna, but Quint had no idea if that was true or not, or if he had a cousin floating around somewhere that resembled an uglier version of Laat. He actually knew very little of his father's family thanks to his father running away from home. Still, Quint knew this much about the Caravels, and he was sure the records could easily be verified by the clerks and records here: some of his ancestors had been knights, or at least squires, some had been minters of great repute, and he knew of at least one uncle who was a priest of Xyna.

And so Quint approached the interior of the mint with a feeling not unlike reverence, because it was here that the Caravel name had once been honored. To this day, Quint did not know what his father had done to ruin his life and his reputation, but by the time his mother-- a Svefra woman-- had found him, the man was already a reprobate and a drunk with bad breath and dandruff living in squalor down in Claridon in Cyphrus. Maybe she was a masochist or maybe she didn't think she could do better-- or maybe in the Svefra way she just didn't think at all and was simply horny, and Quint's father was the first man who came by.

Whatever had happened, the man had promptly run off the minute he had found the Svefra woman was pregant with child. One look at her swollen belly and he had run away.

And so Quint knew very little about this place, but he supposed that in another life he would have been a minter himself. He tried to ask if anyone remembered his grandfather, but the guard told him that everyone was very busy and that he would have to keep his visit brief. Because of his grandfather he had been allowed in this far, but he was not going to be allowed to make a nuisance of himself.

Quint nodded, and promised to keep his mouth shut. He observed as much as he could, like a robber casing a bank, but he realized he simply wasn't good enough yet at that level of observation; he didn't yet have the ability to pay that close enough attention to his surroundings. Someday he would come back and try again, if only to honor the memory of his grandfather, but for now there was little he could do here.

He bowed his head and said a prayer to Xyna, as this was the mint, and then he departed.

[Quint Caravel]

[ooc-- a copy of this one post is in the Xyna thread in the Divinity forum]

Quint knew very little of his birth father, but he knew this: his grandfather had worshiped Xyna, and his grandmother had made Quint's mother swear to her that Quint would know something of his family's religion, and so the promise was kept and the young sailor was taught the ways and rites of Xyna.

Not completely. Not perfectly. Tinged by his barter-loving mother, Quint learned his knowledge second-hand. Still, it was a start: Quint knew that Xyna existed and had once had many more worshipers before that thing 500 years ago happened. And he knew she was the goddess of money. Perhaps alone among the Svefra, Quint liked money. His goal was to acquire it. He was not the most ambitious man, and so while it never mattered to him if he gained it legally or illegally, he had never actually followed through on any schemes -- because these took effort-- that involved counterfeiting or forging it. And so he felt that as far as he knew, it was worth taking a chance on praying to Xyna. The gods helped those that helped themselves, but no one helped you if they didn't know what you wanted. And perhaps he could help Xyna, too. He had yet to meet anyone else who worshiped her. This might mean he was looking in all the wrong places: perhaps there was a continent out there chock full of temples and cathedrals to her. But it might mean she could use and might want more worshipers.

Just as he had done in his Casinor at the beginning of the season, now that Quint was actually in the mint he voiced his prayer once again.

And this was his prayer: "Goddess Xyna, my name is Quint Caravel. My grandfather was a faithful worshiper of yours as I believe he and his father worked in the mint in Syliras; I might have been there myself but my father ran away from here. Still, for the sake of my grandfather and his father and his father before him, I ask that you at least hear my words. My goal is to be a merchant and trader and help spread Mizas all around the world. There are still many out there who barter or otherwise act in ways contrary to your will.

But I believe in you, and I believe in you more than in anyone else that I have met, except for the worshipers you have here. As a goddess, you can see the truth of this. I ask little; I ask only for a fair chance at becoming a merchant with a flourishing trade.

In return, I agree to give up the barter-loving ways of my mother and to do what I can to encourage the free flow of Mizas."

Quint closed with a few of the psalms and benedictions he knew, the parable of the Nuit moneylenders and the Knight of Syliras, for example.

He had never been a greedy or selfish man. Mizas flowed through his palms on a steady stream of wine and wenches. But if he was going to set things right with the past that had just caught up with him, he needed more wealth than he currently had. A prayer to the goddess of money seemed appropriate. And here, here in the Mint in Stormhold Castle, he believed he had a chance of being heard.

It didn't matter to him if his prayer was answered. Just the act of saying it made him feel good, like he was honoring his grandfather and great-grandfather. It made him feel like a real Caravel. And you know, that was enough for him.

[Quint Caravel]

His prayer finished, he went off and had a drink in a tavern. This was the night he saw a squire hitting on a pretty girl and a man drinking carrot juice. Then he decided to leave.

Walking out of the first set of fortified gates of Syliras, Quint paused to think about the this great city of Squires and Knights. He had started the season here and had no complaints; it was a more or less uneventful three weeks. This was the city of his grandfather and great-grandfather and perhaps even more ancestors going back in time, and while his father had gotten in trouble and had run off to mate with a Svefra female, Quint himself still honored and respected some of his family's beliefs.

Now, standing by the eastern wall of Mizahar's largest city, Quint wondered if leaving was the right idea. These gates weren't just a portal in and out of the city; they were a symbol of the safety to be found inside the walls of Syliras. Quint had seen cargo wagons being driven through here, merchants, ramrods and wagon-masters alike sighing with relief as they drove through the massive iron-oak doors and entered the protection of the city.

Once through the first set of gates, he paused in the small courtyard that he had seen wagons stop in; he estimated that it was large enough to fit three wagons and a team of forty-eight, and he was wrong. It was actually large enough to fit one wagon and a team of six, but Quint was not yet as observant as he wanted to be. To his credit however, he was constantly looking around, as he did want to be more observant.

He noticed that between the two set of gates was some sort of metal thing that could come down in case of emergencies or invasions. He didn't know what it was called as he lacked any real knowledge of city architecture, but he spotted the pulley that brought it up and down and he guessed the rest.

His musing about the city courtyard over, Quint kept walking outwards. He realized that he was just stalling now, because he had gotten used to the relative safety of the city and he had no idea what waited for him in the wilderness. He simply had no idea if there were bandits or highwaymen out there, or if there were monsters and creatures beyond his understanding. He could not name a single plant or bit of flora out there. For all he knew there was nothing outside the gates at all, just tumbleweed-filled wilderness that stretched for miles in every direction. He had meant to study up on such things but he had never gotten around to them, as wilderness lore bored him. He had never ridden a horse or been part of a merchant wagon train himself, he had never spent the night around a campfire; he had never spent a day hiking through the wilderness. He was a complete tenderfoot in such matters, a total novice, a tyro in the ways of the world.

[Quint Caravel]

Quint rubbed the stubble on his face, realizing that if he continued to ponder the wilderness in such a fashion he would overwhelm himself with fear and doubt and insecurity and end up turning around and marching right back in.

And he couldn't do that. This was the city of Syliran Knights. It was too organized and neat and pretty for him; there was too much of an emphasis on law and order. He was his own man. He saw himself as a maverick. He was not a serf or squire beholden to anyone else. He was rule of a country of one, but he was still king. No one ruled him. He recognized no authority.

And that meant he would not do well here. It was time to go.

Sighing sadly at the weeks and months wasted here, Quint realized that he should have put a bit more thought and effort into where he traveled.

He always said that, and then he always went back to drinking and wenching and having a good time. He simply lacked the self-discipline and will power of these knights and squires. Quint envied them their moral character, but he assumed it was something you were born with. He was not an ambitious or uptight man, and he had no clue how to acquire such a moral compass. Not that he was a bad man; he had never been caught and convicted of any crime, after all. He had a clean record. It was just that he wasn't sure he was a good man, either. He was just somewhere in the middle, he guessed, just as now stood in the middle of the two gates unable to decide whether he should leave or go.

He decided to look around, figuring that he would accept an omen of fate. He had never been a responsible fellow, and he was not going to take responsibility for his own decisions now. This would be a matter of whim and chance. Would the gods give him a sign to leave, or one to stay?

[Quint Caravel]

Outside two Syliran Knights flanked the gates, currently inspecting some people who were coming in. He heard one of them asking a tinker (who was coughing loudly) if the tinker had any disease or illness, and his partner came over and gave the traveler the once-over. come within. In Quint's opinion, they were being overly cautious, but he had never gotten sick himself, not seriously, and so really had no idea why someone would care one way or the other.

Satisfied that the tinker was healthy, they let him through and then stopped a farmer who was bringing in some produce through the gates. Quint had no idea what animal his beast of burden was; he made a mental note to one day go to that big building where books are kept so that he could learn the names of stuff. Including whatever the building with books was called.

He watched the guards look at the farmer, his produce and at his animal. Quint thought it was crazy that they were going so over-board with their inspection. What did they think, that the farmer was a master thief and the animal was his Kelvic sidekick and the produce was ingredients for poison? That was just silly.

After the tinker and the farmer came a man in a black robe. "Greetings, I am Yadirf of Sunberth. I find that a much more pleasant and free city than Syliras, but my great aunt used to live here and I have come for her funeral."

Sunberth! Quint had been there a few years ago. He remember it well: he had seen a metalsmith fight an Inarta in the BloodPit arena. That was a much better place for a lover of freedom like himself to be. This was the sign he was looking for!

His mind finally made up, Quint walked outside the gates. He said goodbye to the guards, walked out past Yadirf, and went a few yards. He spun around for a moment, giving the city one last look goodbye. He observed something that he had never notice before: above the guards were archers on the ramparts. Good. That made him feel safer.

Quint waved goodbye to a random archer, then turned around and said goodbye to Syliras. He would not be seen again in the autumn season.

[Taylani]

XP Award!

Quint Caraval:

XP Award:

• +3 observation

Lore:

• Family History: Grandfather and Father worked at the mint in Syliras
• Caravals: Known miners
• Syliras Knights and Squires: Too orderly and controlled for Quint.

Notes:Quint knows an awful lot about his family’s history on his father’s side for having had his dad run off while his mom was still pregnant. Will be interesting to find out how he found all this out..or if he was indeed a Caraval *winks*

I couldn’t give Quint architecture because Quint wasn’t planning to build a building, Quint wasn’t designing a building, all he did was study the buildings. I can go look at Notre Dame cathedral and admire its arches and gargoyles but I wouldn’t leave with any more knowledge on how to construct them.

I also couldn’t give you intelligence or persuasion because Quint wasn’t persuading anyone of anything, and he wasn’t gathering intelligence as much as sight seeing. It was a good thread to introduce Quint, and I look forward to see more of his escapades. These are comments.

Comments :

As always if you have a question or concern about your grade feel free to pm me. Don’t forget to delete or edit your grade request..

TAYLANI

[Quint Caravel]

Thank you very much! Someday, should I ever become a grader or JuniorST myself (or some such thing) I am sure that I will look back on this moment and go 'Well, that was a lot of rambling fluff. Poor Taylani."

SKILLS:
This was my very first graded thread, so obviously I didn't quite understand what counts as a skill and what doesn't. A good learning experience.

LORES:
I meant to PM you about the Lores as I don't quite get the concept behind them. I don't mean I'll PM about these Lores, which are specific to Quint; I don't think I quite understand the point and concept of them in general.

I've read this: http://www.mizahar.com/lore/Lore

I understand how a skill is useful, and I understand how certain very specific Lores might be good to know: I can't go to Kalea if I never heard of Kalea. I'm just not quite sure how this is used as either a game mechanic or as a roleplay device.

Let me think...

My best guess is that it's a way to quickly tell when someone is using OOC knowledge IC-- for example Quint is able to talk about Xyna because he has that as his lore, whereas many other citizens might only have the vaguest idea of her-- but if he didn't have that as his lore, he shouldn't be aware of her.

I suppose that I'll look at it like with the towns of Skyrim-- you start off aware of some of the big cities, but all other dots on the map need to be filled in only after you have heard of them in conversation with someone else.

My specific problem is that I have no idea what Lores are considered 'common knowledge' such that all players have them. I guess I'll ask in the Q&A thread.