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Post by King Nicho Klojhen on Jan 22, 2004 21:10:45 GMT -5
The serf lugs the crates to the door of the tower, setting them to one side and pounding on the door. After waiting several minutes, he pounds again. Perhaps the Master Creature is not in. But orders where clear, deliver these chickens to Kolava personally.
Sitting down on one of the crates, the serf rolls and lights a smoke as he waits. The chickens below cluck unheeded protest to the drifting plumes of smoke as he leans against the wall. Well, no skin off his rear, he'll still get paid if he has to sit here all day.
After he finishes the smoke, the serf tries knocking again, even louder this time. It is possible the creature is in, but can't hear the knocking from the top of the tower. The chickens settle back down after a while, making themselves as comfortable as possible packed five to a crate. The serf patiently waits, with the calm attitude of one that bears little responsibility and is satisfied with his lot in life. Perhaps the creature might even be grateful for the delivery and might even tip him a silver or two, in which case he might just be able to buy his eldest son shoes this year.
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Post by Kolava on Jan 23, 2004 10:39:25 GMT -5
"What?" came the irratated noise at last as the knob-less door to Kolava's room opened hingelessly from an outward nudge. The breif glimpse the peasant would likely get of the interior would be a subject of his idle thought for days to come, as it's architecture was intricate and expansive--far more expansive, even, then the exterior measurements would seem to allow.
"Oh. Chickens?" The creature paused, but didn't need to think very long about what this could be. With a toothy grin, he shook his head at the crate. He was honored that the king felt it necisary to keep up his end of the bargin, but the situation seemed contrived to the point of lunacy; afterall, what was he going to do with a dozen chickens?
"Nicho...you shouldn't have." He was speaking to the crate, not noticing the serf at all until he felt that stare drilling into his form. It wasn't anything he wasn't used to, being quite facinating to watch, but the fact that this serf seemed to have a purpose slowly drew his eyes upward.
"These your chickens?"
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Post by King Nicho Klojhen on Jan 23, 2004 11:04:37 GMT -5
A deep bow from the peasant, for though this was a strange creature, he had been told that he was a Master and the brief glimpse of the interior of the tower was enough to convince him.
"Nay, Master Kolava, sir. They are yours, paid for by the King personally."
A flash of hope as he looks at the creature. "Shall I carry them inside for ye, Master?" Surely that would be worth a tip.
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Post by Kolava on Jan 23, 2004 11:24:25 GMT -5
"Where's the fun in eating them when they're stuck in a cage? Besides, I couldn't eat this many chickens at once and I have a thing against owning other animals." He laughed warmly, looking once more to the crate then back to the peasant with an apologetic frown.
"Oh, you carried them all the way up here for nothing now, didn't you? How unfair. Listen, how about you take these chickens off my hands?"
He shrugged, then countered the inevitable question of reimbursment with a scoff. "Just stop staring at me and we'll call it even, alright?"
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Post by King Nicho Klojhen on Jan 23, 2004 12:11:28 GMT -5
The peasant blinks at the creature, sure he can use the chickens to feed his family, but his chances of getting a tip at this point seem slim.
"Aye, Master Kolava," he bows, then looks back at him. "Are ye sure ye won't at least take one?"
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Post by Kolava on Jan 23, 2004 12:33:52 GMT -5
The door had already been closed partly when the peasant again spoke. This dialogue seemed to be stretching on excessively long, considering how the two didn't know each other. Suspecting an ulterior motive, the psion sifted the surface of the man's mind: hope, materialism, mild greed. The creature gave a cynical shake of his head, but then inadvertently delved deeper. He saw a family growing cold, children with tattered shoes, and the sting of unspoken poverty.
He knew what he had to do. Glancing into the room, his eyes searched for what they would never find. Though he was, in fact, quite wealthy, rare were the times when he had many liquid assets to spare; all of his wealth was locked out of his reach in investments, commodities, and disputed inheritances.
At last he spotted a drawstring velvet bag pull of pearls--why couldn't they have paid him in gold? Knowing the pearls themselves, although useless to a farmer, could easily be traded to a merchant, he stepped across the polished wooden floor to the table and lifted the bag by its string.
"Here, Happy Birthday."
The comment made very little sense until you considered that local traditions were something Kolava didn't truly understand. He knew that gifts were exchanged during other holidays, so he assumed that was true of "Birthday" as well--it didn't occur to him that it was only "his" birthday and not the peasants. The bag was tossed to the man to whom the chickens had already been given, then the door was closed before he could respond. The act of generosity felt more rewarding when it wasn't followed by obsequious raving. Contented, if not slightly poorer, Kolava moved back to his previous business which had been interrupted.
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Post by King Nicho Klojhen on Jan 23, 2004 12:42:04 GMT -5
Astonished at the creature's rudeness, perplexed by the words, "Happy Birthday," nonetheless his reflexes are such that he catches the bag while still staring at the now closed door. Looking down, he'll open the drawstring on the bag and almost faint seeing all the pearls, a king's ransom to this poor peasant.
Forgetting the chickens entirely, he happily trots off towards his home, stopping by the market to exchange one pearl for enough silver to feed his family for weeks.
"Goddess bless thee, Master Kolava," he whispers as he counts the silver.
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Post by King Nicho Klojhen on Jan 24, 2004 7:46:55 GMT -5
The two crates of chickens cluck at the creature the next time he passes through the door. For yes, in his joy over the pearls, the chickens were forgotten by the serf.
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Post by Kolava on Jan 24, 2004 13:32:02 GMT -5
At first, this was amusing to the creature, who assumed the peasant would be returning for the crate soon. But, eventually, the truth began to set in, and he realized something remained to be done. Sinking down to all fours and grinning at the fowl, (who, although stiff, threw a fit upon seeing those fangs) he greeted them in the tongue of animals, a curiousity from his previous life. It was slightly telepathic, and involved as much symbolic body language as it did actual sentences. The birds, being domesticated, were likely very feebleminded but would retain enough racial knowledge to understand him and put together a semi-coherent reply.
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Post by King Nicho Klojhen on Jan 24, 2004 16:51:07 GMT -5
~don't eat, feed, yes feed~
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