Solo Welcome to the Cave

The morning after a one night stand, where Baran makes dubious friends with his neighbours.

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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Welcome to the Cave

Postby Baran on June 16th, 2016, 12:05 am

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11th Summer 516 AV, The Tent City

F


The first sound Baran heard that morning was the irritating laughter of children. Then the sound of boots connecting with tent poles, more specifically his. After that, the clatter and crash of cooking pots, and the grating tone of the berating mother nearby. Baran rolled over with a groan, an alcohol-induced headache already forming. Shutting his eyes, he tried to remember what had happened. He'd been in his tent for the majority of the evening, but there had been a gathering of people outside, and he'd wandered over to see what was happening. That was probably where the alcohol had joined the story. Where the story disappeared into confusion.

The man opened his eyes. And then blinked. And blinked again. There opposite him was a woman, beautiful, with shocking waves of dark hair cascading over her face. Aah, yes. The beautiful woman who had been taunting him all that evening had apparently come back with him. He smiled, and looked over the woman. It didn't bother him that he couldn't remember her name, or anything about her. He remembered a conversation, and it had been a good one. Of that there was no doubt. But he simply wanted to admire the beautiful composition of her face. The way her eyebrows framed her eyes. Her hair messy yet still refined. Life was good when you could wake next to a woman such as her.

With a stretch and a yawn, Baran got up, taking care not to disturb his companion. What he needed right now was water, and thankfully his drinking skin was filled with the very same liquid. He fetched it from near the door, and necked it back, despite the vaguely leather taste. Then he went about preparing to break the morning's fast, gathering some old bread and a spoon of honey- a little treat to disguise the taste of old bread.

By the time he was halfway through eating, the woman was beginning to stir. Baran was sitting opposite her, watching with a crooked smile on his face. "Morning, oh sleeping siren." The woman stopped mid-stretch, and raised a tousled head to glowering at the man. His heart sank at the sight, such a shame to see a forehead so wasted on frowns and wrinkles. "Don't frown m'--"
"If you were going to say, 'm'dear', don't even petching bother. I can't abide that term."

Baran sighed, and shook his head, but deigned not to answer. Sleeping with a woman was all well and good, but unfortunately for him, they always seemed to be different to how they were the night before. "Would you like breakfast, then?" The woman shook her head, and gathered her clothes, slipping them on with ease before standing up and stretching. "No. I should be off, places to be, people to be with..." She trailed off, and Baran turned back to his own food. "Suit yourself."

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Baran
"If you steal my gamba, I will gut you."
 
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Welcome to the Cave

Postby Baran on June 16th, 2016, 11:17 am

F


Baran leaned back, stretching his shoulder blades with a loud click. The woman winced with disgust, and he wondered why everything he did seemed to bother her. Despite being a relatively confident man, it still hurt to see someone so obviously uncomfortable with their situation. Trying to diffuse the tension as she gathered the rest of her spread-about belongings, the man spoke up, "Can I at least get you name, then?"

She scowled, the expression souring her face. "I already told you my name several times last night." When his face fell though, she seemed to soften a little. "Look, my name's Kives. Try not to forget it this time, okay?" He smiled, victorious. Without the influence of alcohol, he was sure he'd remember such an unusual name and such a pretty face.

He was nothing if not courteous though. He got up to open the door of the tent, as the woman brushed past and out to wherever, or whoever, she wanted to go to. He sighed, and sat down in the entrance of the tent to finish his breakfast. An herbal tea would suffice.

Gathering the last remaining wood he had stored, the man placed the branches in the already scorched earth where his previous little fires had been. In lieu of a kettle, for he had none, the man used a cooking pot, battered and broken from many seasons of use. He coaxed the fire into life, although it was difficult to start it, as it had rained in the night and the ground was still damp.

After multiple tries and multiple failures, he had the fire alight, cackling nicely. Arranging a prop as well as he could, he balanced the cooking pot on the fire and filled it with water. His mug too, was frail and over-used. He'd have to buy more supplies soon. Trying not to worry about money problems, as his was rapidly decreasing, the man watched over the 'kettle'. After what seemed like ages, it was boiling, the water churning and frothing.

He pulled it off, and whilst he waited for his tea to brew, he looked over the campsite. Ever since his original judgement, the tents surrounding him had stayed still. Grass grew around the tent poles, so it seemed they'd been there for a long time. However, a few days ago others had arrived, and set-up camp behind him and surrounding them. Hostilities usually directed at him were instead directed at the newcomers, leaving him feeling relieved.

The woman he'd had an eye on for a while now was elsewhere, but the brat-children were lingering around, much to Baran's annoyance. Nonetheless, it was a pleasant day. He was looking forward to his practice session later, and he decided then and there to go out and get some more firewood.

By now, his tea was ready, and he sipped it, enjoying the bitter, astringent shock to his system. Just the thing to wake him up.

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Baran
"If you steal my gamba, I will gut you."
 
Posts: 94
Words: 64397
Joined roleplay: March 4th, 2016, 12:27 pm
Location: Ravok
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Welcome to the Cave

Postby Baran on June 16th, 2016, 11:32 am

F


Tea finished, he cleared up the ashen remains of the fire that had flickered out due to his inattentiveness. He checked the mug, and figured that he was well-past due a new one. The pot too. He slung them to the corner of the tent, and cast a scouring glance over the interior. It looked messy enough to not be stolen from, so he left his tent flap unlaced before slinging his dagger onto his belt, and his cutlass too, just in case.

Meredith was chewing the grass near his tent placidly, and he was glad the faithful pony hadn't been stolen. Not yet. She was a vicious thing, sometimes, and perhaps she'd given a demonstration of her kicking skills whilst he'd been away sometime. He whistled to her, and holstered her up as best he could. He still fumbled with the stuff, despite years of the same action, but he was beginning to get the gist of it.

That goes there, this goes here... Once the pony was sufficiently saddled, with one pack attached, then Baran clambered onto her back, gently pressing his heels into her flanks to get her moving forwards. Meredith was only a pony, she was no giant steed, so Baran didn't look like some nobleman riding his horse, but he had always found her to be a faithful travelling companion. She was used to water, and had even travelled on a boat with him, despite her confusion over the moving deck.

They were soon out of the confines of the Tent City, and Baran nudged her forwards somewhat, so that she was moving at a slow canter. In the distance, Baran could see a thicket of trees that looked like they would have what he needed. Unfortunately, he didn't have an axe, and so had no way of getting larger logs for his fire. But twigs and small branches would be enough.

He slowed Mere to a standstill, and dismounted sloppily, before tying the pony to a low-lying branch. The tree thicket was hardly that, a small handful of trees and a spread of low-lying bushes that housed an angry squirrel, hissing from a foot above his head.

Baran scanned the ground, searching for already broken, hopefully dry branches. Obviously, which he'd forgotten, the rain had got a lot of the wood wet, and he cursed at the weather for half a tick before realising that it wasn't too wet. He started gathering small branches, of which there were many.

User avatar
Baran
"If you steal my gamba, I will gut you."
 
Posts: 94
Words: 64397
Joined roleplay: March 4th, 2016, 12:27 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Welcome to the Cave

Postby Baran on June 16th, 2016, 11:48 am

F



The morning was still fresh and young by the time Baran had finished filling Meredith's saddlebags with branches. Pushing himself up onto the saddle by means of a small stump, Baran soon found himself seated on Mere, and nudged her forwards with a smile. It was pleasurable to feel the fresh, cool air on his face, and his horse underneath him, the ground rushing by as she broke into a short run, mane flying.

But in no time at all, the man was back at the Tent City, and he dismounted, leading Mere through the 'streets' by the halter until he reached his home. He placed the bundles of sticks just inside the entrance to the tent, and looked around. Aah! The moody woman's back. It was a different moody woman to Kives, this one was strong, a warrior woman perhaps. She wore her hair in long plaits down her back, and she was busying herself with something.

With a start of surprise, he realised she was packing up her tent. She was obviously on the move again. He hadn't even spoken to her yet, so he sauntered over the short distance to where she was packing up, and smiled a friendly, reassuring smile. "My name's Baran. You're leaving?" The woman looked up, her plaits falling neatly over her back. Definitely a no-nonsense kind of lady.

"Yes, leaving. Got job." Her Common seemed stilted, but Baran was more than used to talking to foreigners from distant lands. He opened his mouth to ask more, but she dismissed him with a wave of her hand, saying, "Work to do. Leave me be." He blinked, and ran a hand through his hair. "Do you at least not need a hand packing?" She shook her head, and glared.

Nothing but glares from ladies today, Baran. Such is life. "Alright, alright. Well, take care, neighbour." He walked off again, and sat down to do some whittling with his dagger. His blanket served as a good seat, and he got his knife out to start scraping the bark of the short branch he'd found. He wasn't sure what he planned to do with it, but it was more of a distraction to be playing with whilst he watched the girl go by.

A few times he cut himself, but not deeply enough to bleed much as he watched. The branch was soon stripped of bark, and Baran kept scraping away at the wood with his dagger, narrowing one point into a spike. In less than half a bell, the woman had packed her tent and her belongings away into a rucksack, and was walking off towards Sunberth proper. All that Baran had done was make a pointy stick.

User avatar
Baran
"If you steal my gamba, I will gut you."
 
Posts: 94
Words: 64397
Joined roleplay: March 4th, 2016, 12:27 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes

Welcome to the Cave

Postby Baran on June 16th, 2016, 12:24 pm

F



The empty space where her tent had been was soon filled as the day wore on into midday. Baran was pottering about the tent, making a mental list of supplies to buy. A lot of his equipment had been borrowed off the travelling companions he'd spent time with during the last two years or so, the reason why he now was left with stuff that was either one tick away from falling apart, or simply didn't exist.

Unfortunately for him, he was lacking in funds. The 100 or so gold mizas he'd had before coming to the city were rapidly declining, and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to continue getting the nice food and ale he so enjoyed if he kept spending at the rate he was. But equipment such as an axe, cooking pots, etc. were very important, and the man recognised that.

But, enough of that for now. He needed, and more importantly, wanted to practice. The campsite was mostly quiet, apart from the brats. But Baran didn't care if he annoyed them with his music, because he didn't give a toss what they thought- they were children, after all. He had a handy stump to sit on, and sit on it he did as he pulled his gamba out of its case.

He quickly strummed the strings, and then placed his prized heirloom between his knees. There had been a time when the position had been uncomfortable and unwieldy, yet it felt completely natural now. He grabbed his bow, and applied the rosin across the hairs. The instrument was, like usual, out of tune, so he twisted the pegs to adjust the tone, until it felt right.

To warm up, he let his fingers idle across the strings, playing a simple up and down pattern of notes. The rich, warm tones sounded enclosed in the tent, but homely too. He played scales for half a bell, repetitiously and slowly, to make sure he was doing it right. Although Baran's main passion was to play beautiful music, he still recognised that you needed to build it up to get even better.

User avatar
Baran
"If you steal my gamba, I will gut you."
 
Posts: 94
Words: 64397
Joined roleplay: March 4th, 2016, 12:27 pm
Location: Ravok
Race: Human
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Plotnotes


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