Solo Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Some good ol' manual labor.

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A city floating in the center of a lake, Ravok is a place of dark beauty, romance and culture. Behind it all though is the presence of Rhysol, God of Evil and Betrayal. The city is controlled by The Black Sun, a religious organization devoted to Rhysol. [Lore]

Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on February 11th, 2018, 2:26 am

23rd of Winter, 517 AV, North Ravok Outpost:

Ein was just finishing his recently established morning routine of exercising using a bucketful of water as a weight for stimulating the muscles of his arms and upper torso, and concluding several dozen jogging sessions across the length of the outpost's southern wall. It was a decent exercise regime to slowly build upon and get back into and improve upon proper physical shape.

Considering it's been nearly a week since his unfortunate dealings with a couple of crooked bastard employers and a not so unfortunate dealing with a four armed bartender, along with the fact that the swelling upon his face from the cheap shot he received that day had practically faded completely, Ein figured he was presentable enough to go prowling about for a proper job, lest his stash of coin eventually bleeds out.

Wiping the sweat from his cheek, Einar made way over to see if there was aught worth doing hammered onto the notice board... finding the damn thing awfully well filled, though with multiple requests for the same job. Apparently the black ones were too busy parading about to clear the sodding entrance to the camp proper, and were requesting laborers for the deed... same thing went for their docks apparently. He wouldn't be surprised if those elitist twats would rather let the whole camp starve o'er taking off their fiendish armor and hauling a buncha boulders and logs over to build a bloody boat ramp.

Can't be that difficult. Ein tore one notice requesting the gate be cleared and another one that regarded materials for the building of the docks, making way back to his tent and for the sake of changing into his shoddier set of clothing, ragged and torn trousers and shirt, right and proper garb for hauling shyke and felling trees. Within minutes he would make it out to the southern gate.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on April 24th, 2018, 11:40 am

On his way to the workload, he exchanged a handful of silvers for a hatchet, seeing as he didn't fancy hewing his poleaxe into timber. Invest in the work you do. He snorted at the memory of another bit of advice his foster fathers liked to shower him with back in the day.

As he made it to the gate, he took note of six other apparent workers, likely mercenaries themselves, starved for work. Three worked away at felling a tall conifer not too far away from the paved path that went through the gate. The other half went about clearing rocks and other debris nearby... Spying no better way to go about things himself, Ein began tearing and hewing to root out the shrubbery that grew directly against the outer wall and the nearby road, spying another tree that grew barely paces away from the gate, nowhere near as large as the one the other group was felling, and likely not of as much interest thus... The other folks likely had the same idea that they'll be able to sell some of the shyke they clear from the gate to the crew that's meant to be building the docks, and so went for what would provide the most materials first and foremost.

Now, while physical labor of any sort was a welcome exercise in healthy dose, warmed up or not, old or young, working at anything with your back bent as though you're waiting to be plowed was a bitch and a half given enough time. A thing Ein was reminded of about the time he'd cleared several square paces of shrubbery and piled up a heap of several stones about the size of his head and a couple of branches thick enough to be convertible into planks and other woodwork. Seeing as he couldn't find much else that appealed to him with the fact that a dock needs to be built out of the damn stuff, he sat himself down and set his gazes upon the smaller conifer he'd spied earlier.
Last edited by Belugnir on June 24th, 2018, 5:37 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on April 24th, 2018, 4:47 pm

After a short breather to catch up with the winding from his previous exercise and the near full bell of work he'd put in already, Ein went on to clear out some taller shrubs not too far away from the tree he figured he'll go chopping down later on. It took several minutes and one nasty whoreson of a thorny bush for his hand to clasp about what seemed like a thick branch stuck in the shrubbery. Yet when he pulled the thing wouldn't come off and out of the leafy mess. A moment later he realized that the wood he held wasn't nearly as crude as the crust of a regular tree trunk or branch, he took a peek through the hazard of little leaves before him and saw a worked wooden shaft, about twice as thick as the handle of his poleaxe, though hardly well preserved...

It took several chimes to clear the shrubbery about the thing, for while rather well hidden, it wasn't overly entangled. Ein now looked upon an old wooden cart, broken and abandoned by the roadside hell knows how many moons ago. Ein hardly needed invitation to begin with dismantling the ruined thing. A good deal of the cart was well and truly rotten, its wheels were cocked up beyond all usefulness, but after some fifteen chimes of pulling, shoving and breaking, it would yield six broad planks, a single wooden shaft, about as thick as Ein's forearm, and about two dozen nails, none of which were in prime condition, but could as well be useful to one pressed for building materials. The wood was decently weathered, but could certainly hold his own weight if he stepped over it, and the nails were somewhat rusty, yet all the materials he elected were at the very least reasonably better preserved than the rest of the cart. Might as well try passing them off for a coin or two, not like they was building a bridge 'cross a bottomless chasm...
Last edited by Belugnir on June 30th, 2018, 5:02 pm, edited 3 times in total.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on April 25th, 2018, 6:25 pm

Having spent well over a bell at work at that point, the rugged lad decided to pile up his lot of materials together, shove the ruined wood of the cart a ways off away from the road, and then walk back to the camp for the sake of washing his face in the stream that ran through the outpost, treating himself to a few mouthfuls of water, and going back to where his tent and tools rested to grab a sizable length of rope before heading back to the conifer he meant to chop down. Yet there was a hefty surprise waiting for him once he’d made it out of the gate.


‘’Oi, you, petching hell do you think you’re doing?!’’, Ein came yelling at a woman who hastily rose from beside his pile of materials, at the sound of his voice, glancing at him with fright written upon her posture. She began to move away, to which Einar came striding toward her with hastened frustration, leveling the blunt end of his hatchet, pointing at the woman. She was reasonably young, mayhaps a few years older than himself, dressed in shoddy men’s clothing that hung about her, not being sewn to her petite size. Doubtless, she was one of the other workers.

‘’I asked you a cockin’ question.’’, Einar bellowed, resisting the urge to outright lop his hatchet at the thieving bitch.

‘’I- I was just… I’m sorry, sir… I--’’, she mumbled, stepping backward away from the robust fellow marching toward her.

‘’Bloody right you’re so--‘’

‘’Is there a problem?’’, Ein heard a masculine voice approaching from his right with its interruption. Now, the young mercenary wasn’t the most observant nor the best judge of character, but one look at this bugger told him all he needed to know. How the cocksucker blundered about, trying to gesture at the width of his shoulders with every step, and that poorly presented protective glare that the bastard was giving him…
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on April 25th, 2018, 7:01 pm

Ein had stopped in his tracks to speak back, firmly planting his feet, with his body mostly still rotated to the woman several dozen paces away, lowering his right arm with the hatchet so it would come to rest between him and the man who approached. Bugger’s clothing also betrayed that he’d spent the day working the debris about the gate. Ein couldn’t tell if the prick slowed his approach at all when the mercenary elected to stand instead of moving toward the apparent damsel in distress.

‘’Not if you and your bitch over there keep your hands to yo—‘’, he was interrupted again, the broad shouldered bastard really had some nerve, false anger written upon his face gave Einar an awful urge to spit a hearty one at the bastard. Man was half a head taller than him, and visibly a good chunk more muscular, yet his mannerism was that of someone who’d never taken part in so much as a breath of proper combat. Though considering the bugger’s size, one could figure he’d intimidate a good lot of offenders just by looking. Oh but then the fellow brazenly blundered to Ein and went to grab him by the collar of his shirt. That was all it took to really set the mercenary off.

The self-assumed white knight opened his mouth to scold his maiden’s offender, flexing his back to tower as much as possible over the man he’d grabbed by the shirt as he stared him down, yet that only opened him up even more for what came. Before the prick uttered so much as a word, the blunt back of Einar’s hatchet went clapping into the side of the bugger’s knee, instantly his leg buckled, but that wasn’t the end, Einar quickly followed that by driving his own knee upward into where any a man will be hurt the most, and jolly wonder, that was all it took to take an overconfident bastard out of a game, for he quickly fell, yelping to his knees. And that’s when Ein went grabbing the bastard by the collar of his own shirt, so that his face would properly point itself upward, opening up splendidly for Ein to drive his forehead into the bastard’s nose.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on April 25th, 2018, 7:27 pm

‘’Mate if you wanna plow this lass don’t try sharpening ye prick on me.’’

Letting the pretty boy fall over on his back, wailing as the lower half of his face came smeared with blood from his broken nose, Ein gave the bastard a somewhat soft kick in the ribs, and then another, stronger one for good measure, before turning to the woman again.

‘’And you. Try and give the cocksucker some before ye both end up with your goods chopped off o’er a handful of cockin’ nails, will ye?’’

He jested, but his gaze and expression were stern, hateful yet also composed and indifferent, glaring at her from behind Ein's unkept mane as he gestured for the woman to petch off with one quick jerk of the hand which held his hatchet.

‘’Fuck outta my sight. Both of ye.’’

To that, she would approach frightfully, whimpering apologies as she helped her friend, lover, whatever, sod it, up and away. Ein would proceed to glare after the pair while they stumbled away… Petch me in the arse if those two have a grain of mercenary to ‘em… probably some poor sods hard pressed for work, hell, might even be runaway slaves… He spat to the side, hearing a ‘’You shouldn’t have gotten involved.’’, as the woman spoke to the broad shouldered fellow.

Cockin’ right, neither of you.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on June 24th, 2018, 5:43 am

Once the two lovebirds were out of sight and out of mind, Einar went back to his pile of materials, at a glance he realized what was missing, and his head shook at the pettiness of his ilk. He could understand starved folk cutting a purse or snatching a loaf of bread… but two grown up folk who were already at work to earn some coin stealing fuckin’ nails to earn a copper or two more? That’s a wholly new depth in desperation and greed.

‘’Hope you choke on ‘em, ye cheap fucks.’’, he grunted, getting back to work. Ill-tempered and crude as he knew to be, Ein wasn’t as petty as to go stirring more trouble o’er a handful of rusty iron. Instead he went back to the conifer.

Having circled the tree a couple times earlier that day, he figured it might end up falling onto the palisade and damaging it if poorly felled, so he had a mind to secure the direction of its fall with rope, just in case. After several miserable attempts of climbing a modest height of the conifer to warp the rope around it, most of which had ended with Einar's arse reunited with the ground with greater velocity than he'd care for, this was finally accomplished... along with setting the man in an overly self-aware, grumpy mood. It was as though he hadn't spent his whole childhood climbing unlikely heaps of objects for the sake of getting out of sight after snatching his occasional meal off an unsuspecting merchant's stall.

Either way, he'd wrapped the rope about the conifer's trunk some four times, about a third of the way up it's height, and after letting himself down from the low branch that had served as his foothold, surprisingly enough setting on his feet this time around, and plucking an impossibly annoying bit of tree bark that got stuck under the skin of his left hand's palm, Ein went on to tighten the rope, using the largest four stones he'd previously gathered together as leverage. Already the conifer was slightly bent away from the palisade.

Then it was time to start hacking away.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on June 26th, 2018, 10:52 pm

Only, Einar soon found, and after a good five chimes of tearing into the conifer's side... that a tree is hardly well felled by a hatchet meant for clearing shrubs. As stubbornly tenacious as he knew to be at times, the man hardly made much progress in the way of cutting into the tree's trunk with the short, light blade of the tool... And begrudgingly decided to take himself a seat and catch his breath.

It had been past noon, and, looking over to the opposite side of the road, Ein had noted that the larger group he'd seen previously had already taken their leave... along with the materials they'd previously gathered... likely the buggers were content with whatever they'd gathered for their time and took their leave early during the day... Hell, they were probably getting themselves blind drunk off their haul at this very moment...

Ein's attention settled on the pair he'd chased away before, a notable detail which baited a smug smile from the mercenary was a broad strap of bandage wrapped around the broad shouldered fellow's face, bloodied across where it covered his nose. The two sat a ways off the road. He hadn't noticed it earlier... he hardly cared to pay attention to it, but they seemed tired, awfully so, and not from the sort of fatigue one builds over working a couple difficult hours in the morning. And as he idly stared at them from the comfortable distance between their two seating spots, another, peculiar detail revealed itself.

A trio of children came scuttling to their side. Two of which appeared to be in their earliest teens, and one who seemed just barely passable for a ten year old... They were all terribly skinny, a thing visible from afar, along with the fact that they wore cloth that was barely a solid step above outright rags... and in the next couple of chimes, Einar got to witness the odd group share between themselves a meal of bread and what seemed to be a bare handful of poorly baked potatoes... before the children would settle beside their young elders. Seemingly to take a rest. As the scene unfolded, Einar's expression became exceedingly grim. He hadn't seen those kids about the outpost before... much like he hadn't seen their assumed parents either. And a pair of folk in obvious distress of several sorts, with several children on their hands, to boot, was a difficult thing to miss at this outpost. They must have come here recently. And not because they came chasing ample opportunity for work and hardship.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on June 29th, 2018, 11:47 am

''Oi, pretty boy.'', imposing an ounce of bravado for good measure, Einar had walked the distance between his site of work and the resting group, quickly noting of the tools and belongings that they had about them in plain sight.

The young man whose nose he broke not a full hour ago looked up in distress, indecisive of whether he should risk hostility. Ein would lift the indecisiveness off of him.

''That your saw over there?'', with a nod the mercenary gestured toward a long sawblade with long handles that stood aligned with the width that ran from its edge to the dull end opposite of it.

''I-it is... why?''

''Think I saw the other buncha laborers earlier today hewing a tree with a saw like that. You nick something from them as well?''

At this point there was a frown on the younger lad's face, and the tense roll in his shoulders told a volume of readiness to have a go at the mercenary all over again at what he understood as provocation.

''It is ours. We lent it to them for a silver piece.'', the woman interrupted, reasonably frightened for her grumpy partner, considering the temper he had did him no good.

''A silver piece?''

''Aye, a silver piece.'', the young man huffed, confusion chipping away at his hostility toward the mercenary.

''Fair enough then.'', Ein concluded, tossing a solid golden coin over to the man, who'd barely caught the thing and then proceeded to stare upward, visibly unaware of what the hell this man was doing.

''Quit ye gawkin', pretty boy. Get your arse up, pick up your saw, and come along.''

''But... wh--''

''You rent the saw for a silver piece, I'll be renting the saw and your limpin' arse, can't fuckin' operate a tool meant for two men by meself. Now get busy movin'.''

After an uncertain exchange of glances with his woman, the lad got up, reassuring the two children he had along who weren't as easily lured to sleep as their third sibling that he'll be back shortly, he brought the saw with him, and went following after Einar.


Weekend 4/8K Marathon Word Count: +357
Last edited by Belugnir on June 29th, 2018, 9:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Gardener for a Day... Selling Sticks and Stones?

Postby Belugnir on June 29th, 2018, 4:44 pm

It wasn’t a minute before Ein and the lad whose nose he broke were putting a conifer to the saw, and after a time spent quietly eyeing the man as they pushed the blade on between themselves , Einar finally spoke up.

‘’So where do you lot hail from?’’

He did not meet the mercenary’s gaze, and remained awful quiet for a moment after the question was asked.

‘’We…’’, he had no proper answer to give, and a nervous shake went through his shoulders. And so their saw stopped halfway into the conifer’s trunk.

‘’You’re runaway slaves, aren’t ye?’’, Ein had lowered his voice, leaning forward an ounce, even though there was more than likely, no other soul about which could hear him. Still, there was a hunk of satisfaction apparent in his voice. One that blossomed into a right smug grin at the sudden wide-eyed fear with which the opposing man came to stare at him. Though the lad seemed to realize that his secret was practically given away by the act a moment later, and he was struck with visible desperation, not knowing how to plead with the mercenary not to turn him in.

‘’H-how did you…’’

‘’You lot are most certainly not from about here, I’d have seen you around earlier. And I don’t think a family of baggers would go out of their way to drag their asses up this far north unless they fancy outright starving to death. Besides… you spook as easily as fugitive slaves.’’, that much the mercenary was all too familiar with, from experiences he’d rather not ever have to recall, which was mostly the reason why he went and dragged the distressed lad over.

‘’Are the lot of you slaves, then?’’, Ein went to confirm: ‘’…Or merely several of you? And cease giving me your drowsy eyes, I’ll not turn you in, lest you decide to be an obnoxious cunt.’’

At this the younger fellow seemed even more confused… and though struggling to speak up with reason, this time he did find the words.

‘’N-no. I was never a slave.’’, he looked over to where his woman sat, still kept busy as she and the two waking children seemed to give their best attempts at amusing each other. ‘’Mina was the only one.’’

‘’Mina is your lass?’’

The fellow only nodded.

‘’So what about you?’’

‘’I worked a small carpentry before we left Sunerth…’’

‘’And the little ‘uns? They yours?’’ Of course you lot are from fuckin’ Sunberth.

‘’They… they were her sister’s, we took them along as we fled… I’ve no idea who their father is.’’

‘’Her sister didn’t make it with you?’’

There seemed to be a lump formed in the fellow’s throat at the question. ‘’She… she was killed.’’

Einar stared long and cold at the fellow whose attention was so easily moved back to his patchwork of a family… Three orphans visibly clean off the street. It was as though the mercenary could feel his pretentiously self-righteous foster fathers’ hands on his shoulder at the sight. Following a heavy sigh, he spat begrudgingly to the side.

Weekend 4/8K Marathon Word Count: +519
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