Tools of the Trade [Hrafnir & Mant, Open]

[Mant Liknessa]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V. Mant lifted an eyebrow while he still looked brooding - an amusing feat, to be honest, since he now looked more like he had seen a fox with a fez on its head, in the middle of a chicken barn while eating one of his chicks - when he heard Hrafn say "Peeloh", but then shook on his head. He looked on the grindstone mechanism, and started to press the pedal down, seeing it spinning around itself. His head did a short nod, and then he went to the table and settled himself. Obviously, he was resting a bit before going out into the forest. "I used 25 minx on the grindstone. 8 minx on the wheelcart. I'd like 7 minx for the wheelcart. I'd be useful for transportation. I am going to the woods later. Just have to rest a bit now." He leaned himself a bit back, and rested his back against the wall while he sat on the oblique-positioned chair and stared up in the roof.

[Hrafn Alaric]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V.

-"Hah, you know what they say... "Money for nothing; minx for free." Ah, these youngings nowadays." Hrafn said, obviously distant and seemingly acting like a grandfather. He waddled to the table, admist the scrabbled notes, tools and other miscellaneous trash - which Hrafn had no use for but... Kept for some reason.

After digging into the trash - and a few heartful stories about choice items he coughed up the 7 minx. -"Here you go, friend." Hrafn said as he winked his partner.

"Lawrence, you seemed to be blurting something about daggers? I can fancy you one, a simple Stiletto, as uncle Rez always called'em. If you get me the things I need - I'll gladly make one." Hrafn said as he turned his back - working on the blades yet again. He wanted to finish them before Mant returned. He hummed to himself gently while warming up the iron, prepared to bend and shape it when ready.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen pushed the door open to the room. The air was rather damp, and the smell of the salted meat she had left in the room had now spread through it, which gave the room a rather unique smell of the sea. She sat down on the wooden chair, and continued to listen to the talking citizens passing by the wall, while gnawing on the bone, which now had split into two from the countless times it had been chewed. The sound of the grindstone starting made her somewhat aware of the situation again, and she heard Hrafnir's voice saying her name.
-"Hmm-" She swiftly remembered the question she gave Hrafnir earlier, and answered.
-"Yes, that's correct. What material it is made from, and the quality of the handle and alike doesn't matter to me. As long as it is able to cut, I'm fine with it. What do you need to create one, sir?" She gave him a nod, without any particular reason. She just felt like it.

[Hrafn Alaric]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V.

-"Nahgh?" he responded; his eyes clearly focused on bending the iron to the familiar shape. If his eye-contact would break now, it could cool before he could shape and cut into the right form. -"I need erh... Isurian Steel oughta be wonderful for that, but if you can't get one, admittedly it's rare, you should be able to get someone to find Cold Iron. Seek out Baldrik, he has many'a wares for you. If you say you are a friend of Hrafn, he might even giveya a discount." said Hrafn as he grunted quietly, he needed to have unhindered focus. -"Peeloh! Fetch me the chisel, willya?" he called to his friend. The rascally Pycon emerged from behind the tool belt and grabbed a chisel - he seemed to have some understanding of the tools Hrafn used.
-"Thankye son." Hrafn nodded gently at Peeloh.

-"Now. To get started on sharpening them!" Hrafn said jolly while waddling over to the grindstone. He started rolling the handle until it caught a nice pace. It made a sharp, eye-watering noise. -"Gah!" Hrafn cried as he recoiled. He shook his head as he rolled the grindstone again, prepared this time.

-"Oh, me'n'Mant are two tall chaps,
and we haven't fell for the ole salesman's traps
Lawrence taught us the tools of the trade
so I stand here with Peeloh and sharpen this blade!
soon the Mizas'll start rolling in
and of course the ole winter'll come
we better notify our next of kin
when we leave this place for the rum
I aim to waste a considerate suuum-mm-mm!
Too-daladada-cloo!" Hrafn said as he tapped his feet - his Pycon friend shrieking of joy.

[Mant Liknessa]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V. Mant lifted an eyebrow to Gwendolen's saying, and said: "A good cutting knife is effective. But. A simple knife is naturally weaker. Atleast give yourself the time to make it light and well-lying in the hand." He then shook on his head, rose himself from the table and left the smithy. When he got outside he touched his bald head, wrinkled his forehead and put his hand down in his backpack where he picked up a fez, which he placed nonchalantly on his head. He looked flat on the passing people, seeing them as a fragile obstacle, which yelled if you went straight on them. His eyes had lost its brooding stare, but it was replaced with an almost soulless one that was filled to the brim with absence of emotions. Sometimes, they flickered to the dark corners which the light of the torches situated on the walls couldn’t penetrate. Eventually, he reached the main gates and looked chill around himself. There was still some people wandering around the gates. Poor people, with sackcloth covering their meagre bodies and their deep-lying eyes looking despairing around themselves for small scraps of cloth, a coin or a dry crust of bread. He passed the gates undisturbed, and breathed in the fresher air outside of the city. A satisfied smile crept up on his face, and he headed for a near lying forest he saw when he passed the ends of the Syliran arcadia on his horse, and after a short while he reached it. It was close to the city. Calling it a forest would be taking it to large ends – for it was just a cluster of trees of an adequate size, not impressing in any way. Yet, there were sticks among the leaves, and that was all he needed. Mant had to search a bit before he found it. He had to look at the roots of the trees, throwing and kicking leaves everywhere to see if he could find any good sticks under them and even looked on the sticks that the trees hadn’t shed. Eventually, after a throughout searching in the cluster, he found a bundle of sticks of varying dryness and flexibility, but all of them useable for handle-making. He had to discard a lot of sticks, which had rotten beyond any point of usability. When he finished he gathered them all in his arms, and departed the cluster. He headed to the front gate, and after having made a short nod to the guard positioned at the desk he descended downwards into the lower tiers. He kept himself to the sides, not wanting to be slowed down or accidentally being pushed down so he, in a stroke of a very accidental turn of events, lost his grips around the sticks. Eventually, after going down a series of stairs he reached the smithy and went disgruntled inside with the sticks. He felt his arms aching and he was annoyed at a large list of obligatory subjects he had to do. He left the sticks on the floor and settled himself on the table again.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen gave Hrafn a simple nod as answer to him, but due to the fact that she -really- didn't feel like going down to the market or alike right now, she just ignored his request, and continued to sit on the chair by the hole in the wall. She suddenly looked around the room, where only Hrafn and Mant was, and she quickly ran for the door, opening it, and shutting it behind her. She walked through the castle hallways and asked around for anyone who would share their room as storage or alike for the price of five gold coins, and after she had been looking around the whole bazaar, a willingly trader agreed on the deal, as he could sleep in his shop for a few nights. She bumped, and crashed into a few people as she ran, and only within a few minutes, she was outside her destination;

The Butcher of Alban.

Gwendolen walked into the shop, and looked around at the walls filled with meat, and heads of once proud animals. She didn't feel pity for them, even though she knew she didn't differ from them. Luckily chosen was what she considered herself, or simply that she had chosen the right path to live. She walked up to the man behind the shop, whose seemed to be a young, and rather stylish apprentice, or simply someone who worked there for the season, as she hadn't seen him before in the butchery.
-"Greetings, miss! What may the Butcher o' Alban offer you today? We have everything on the list in store! What you need, in what scale you need, and what quality. That's all I demand from you, miss!" He smiled, while he was tapping his fingers against the counter.
-"I'd like 'few decent cuts of deer, salted." She felt she had forgot something, but didn't really get what, until the shopkeeper himself named it.
-"Quantity, miss." He looked at her with a rather boring look this time, and he obviously saw her as poor, which could be due to her clothes.
-"What about 450 cuts?" The shopkeepers jaw would for sure drop, if he had one.
-".. Right away, miss!" The boy ran away to the other men, and explained the situation. They, who weren't expecting someone to buy meat on this scale, cheered for themselves, and quickly began to prepare the meat. The boy ran back to the counter, and began to explain the price.
-"225 Miza Gold Coins the price, miss! We're also including a price for the sacks, as one silver coin each sack. That should be about, 226 Miza Gold Coins, and one Miza Silver Coin. Is that okay, mis- Right! We're also offering 'few men to help you to deliver the meat to it's location for 'few gold. Here, it would be two gold, and five silver to transfer the goods. Is that okay, miss?" The boy breathed out, and seemed rather exhausted from explaining it through.
-"That should do it." She gave him a letter with the number of the traders door, and his name.
-"The goods will be transferred to its location tomorrow, and the payment will be now, or when the goods arrive. It's your choice, miss!" She simply placed the gold coins, and the silver coins on the table with a slight smirk. The boy collected them in his satchel, and ran out to the elderly men to count them for him. He swiftly came back, and gave her a nod as answer.
-"Pleasure making business with you." She walked out of the shop with a pleasant face, and suddenly remembered her trade with Mant and Hrafrn. She said to herself that it was a mere excuse to stay in the smith, and so she continued her walk back to the smith.

Gwendolen's Receipt!-225g Deer (Decent Cuts)
-11s Sacks
-2g 5s Transport
-5g Storage

[Hrafn Alaric]

-"Brilliant work, Mant!" Hrafn blurted out quickly as he arranged the knives, he narrowed his eyes and examined them briefly. They were in similar shapes and the length was the same on each. Their sharp edge was thin and had a good bite and the other end was thick enough for people to put their hand there. Hrafn, pleased with the work he did nodded at Mant as he stepped outside. He skimmed the dark corridor as he hurried down to the Bazaar. The torches of the hallway slowly became more visible and the venting system became more noticeable - thankfully. As he stepped into the Bazaar he was temporarily blinded by the strong light. The noise of the Bazaar was ever so loud, the people squabbling and squirming to get their business done. Nobody wanted to stay at the Bazaar for long - that's for sure. He squinted slightly as he gazed over the market, the orange-draped stand stood out.

All sorts of metallic wares were hanging from the cloth roof of the stand, he glimpsed at a blacksmith knife, a multi-using knife he could use for carving the handles. -"Tally ho - friend. How much is that knife? Surely it must be ancient, the handle crooked and the blade itself unsharpened and rusty. I should know - I'm a blacksmith myself!" Hrafn called, his theatrics brilliant - he was good at what he did, barter had become as mundane as breathing for Hrafn.
-" 'Eh? I would've thought it'd cost about 5 silvers, but a good point. You can get it for 3 silvers I s'pose." he shrugged as he grabbed the knife from the string.
-"Wonderful, my good sir. I'll make sure it will get a good home." Hrafn smirked as he rolled the Miza's on the table and took the knife.

Next stop - more iron. Mant had gathered a considerable sum of wood - they'd need at least 5 pounds of iron. He walked casually, gloating, to his supplier, he was only a short walk from the knife vendor. Hrafn cracked his neck as he walked closer and said clearly; -"My good man, my brother bought some Iron here a few days ago and it was absolutely worthless! It had rusted on the inside and hardly bent at all, I was unable to work with it! I demand a discount!" Hrafn called as he frowned.
-"We-we-well, I don't own this stand sir! It's master-" the young human started, but Hrafn interrupted him by flailing his arms into his face, -"No. No. No no no. I don't care. 2 silver per Iron, or this will go to the Knights and your items'll be confiscated. I'm sure you'll master will understand." Hrafn smirked.
-"Well, alright..." the boy said, "How much do you want sir?" he asked with a frail voice, Hrafn could detect his voice cracking - he obviously felt bad. Poor kid. -"I need 5 pounds of the decent stuff - I hope you don't mind if I pick the Iron?" Hrafn asked as he dropped 1 golden Miza and 1 silver on the table. -"Not at all. If you were unsatisfied, of course you should be able to choose." the boy said, his mood lightning up. After Hrafn carefully picked the iron, bendable and strong, he made his way back to the smithy only to be greeted by Gwendolen. And some men. With big sacks. And meat. Lots of meat.

-"Lawrance. Where are you storing all that meat?" Hrafn asked, confused.

[Gwendolen Lawrence]

81st of Fall, 510 A.V.

Gwendolen walked with her hands on her hips, obviously proud over her trade, which she hadn't gained anything on, yet. She looked up at Hrafn with a proud smile on her face, and she would for sure waggle her tail, if she had one.
-"I'm storing it in the house of an wealthy merchant. I figured out that I wouldn't be able to store 470 cuts of salted deer in your smith, friend." She chuckled, without letting her grin bleach out.
-"That's what I meant by the 'trade', fella. We will discuss, and divide it up later on, if that would be acceptable, sir." She made a gesture towards the henchmen, who started to walk deeper into the castle.
-"What about 'e dagger I asked you to make, friend?" She had obviously forgot about the iron he asked her to get, and simply smiled against him, due to the fact that she felt the lack of something.

[Hrafn Alaric]

-"The dagger. Hmm. Yes. I might have been able to finish it... Had I had the damn metal! Women. You really can't handle anything, can you? Bah. I'm going out for a walk." Hrafn said as he shook his head, looking distraught. He was tired of it all and just wanted to escape. He walked alone down the lonely corridor, everything completely silent. He stopped suddenly - the idea sprung up inside of him. He pondered, threw the idea from side to side, wondering if he should utilize it. He turned in the middle of the hall, a sharp shriek was heard from the sound of his boots sneering as they scraped against the floor. He frowned as he walked back to his smithy.

-"I barely have enough time to explain but... I'm leaving. Simple as that." Hrafn blurted out as he pushed open the door. -"Mant. I want you to take care of this ol' place. If you intend to leave, atleast do it with dignity and cash in at the Housing Authority. If we meet again in my travels - I expect the 500 Miza's." Hrafn said as he dug up the note - the deed from the Authority. -"Gwen." he nodded at the woman. He kissed her abruptly, but not before blurting out something about chivalry not being dead. He went to his desk and slid everything in his backpack that he couldn't wear, including the knives, although he did this subtly. Not wise to let them know their work has been in vain. Hrafn donned his cloak and slid on his tattered clothes. He put on his backpack and stood in front of the duo.

-"I bid you... A do, my dear Mant." he said as he waved with theatrics at his friend, simply nodding at Gwen, acknowledging the awkwardness. He turned once again, fully dressed with his backpack and all of his valuable earthly belongings that could fit. -"Come on old Peeloh. I think we deserve a grand adventure." he said as he opened the door.

Hrafn hesitated. He stopped with only his right leg outside of his house... his home. He walked back to Mant. -"Giving you this would be extremely stupid." he said as he ripped the deed from his hands. -"Off to the Housing Authority!" he called as he slammed the door behind him.

[Hrafn Alaric]

[OOC: Finished and set up for examinations]