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 the shade in ingsmud
abbey
 Posted: Oct 4 2015, 11:45 PM
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QUOTE (Medrash)
Coastline. Swamp. Medrash does not like the idea of going back out into the rain, but he does not know when it will stop. Waiting is time wasted. "Who was the first man to disappear?" The coastline is the beginning of 'where'. Medrash wants the beginning of 'who'.

Maerwen is not a happy person. By that logic, Medrash is exactly right for her.

"M-Mmm." She shuts her eyes and seems to be trying to remember. "Old Ederfloor's boy, if I recall. Then Ederfloor, shortly after. Knew the coast better'n any man. I remember Samuel, my husband, spoke highly of him, and then all o' a sudden he was gone."
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XANDER
 Posted: Oct 4 2015, 11:49 PM
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"And where is Ederfloor's house? And his boy's house?" As Maerwen talks, Medrash wonders why evil would come to Ingsmud. It is just a modest fishing village -- what does it have that is worth the trouble?

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abbey
 Posted: Oct 4 2015, 11:56 PM
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QUOTE (Medrash)
"And where is Ederfloor's house? And his boy's house?"

"You go north from The Mooring, past the lord mayor's office, and keep walking till you see a ramshackle place. Old, with two storeys. I'd wager it's boarded up now. Abandoned."

Maerwen's hands huddle around her mug, and she takes another sip at length. "Medrash?" she says, as though the unfamiliar name is slipping her mind already. "I haven't much. Most of the money's gone with Samuel. But if you— find him, if you do, I've my ring and whatever I can scrape together. And the lord mayor— He might still help. He wanted to help, when it started."
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XANDER
 Posted: Oct 5 2015, 12:07 AM
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The Dragonborn's eyes go to the ring. If it is real gold, then it is worth something. Whether it is enough to buy a man's life is up for debate, and depends more on the lord mayor than the going prices of rare metals.

"We will talk of price when I have a husband to sell you." Like as not, Medrash will come across no such good in the swamps, if his intuition is correct. He lifts one clawed hand to tap the woman in the center of her forehead, three times, tap tap tap. "Think of any strangeness you have seen in Ingsmud. It may be of use in finding your... Samuel." Humans have strange names.

He finishes the rest of his ale, stands, and replaces the chair at the table where he found it. The poor woman needs no more pestering.

If the mayor's office is on the way, it is to the mayor's office he will go. Medrash is more willing to charge a fee for hope with mayors than he is for despondent widows. He heads to the door, and back out into the rain.
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Lar
 Posted: Oct 8 2015, 02:41 AM
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Derthag steps back too, knocking his chair aside. He has heard of the troubles in Ingsmud, though not in any detail—and what he has heard has been nearly forgot. He screws his brow up, trying to remember.

"I though we's playing Beetle," he says. "That ain't no beetle. Forget our bet."

He snarls, brandishing the lute and drawing himself up to his full height. Derthag looms there in the inn, trying his best to be intimidating. Behind him, Medrash the dragon-thing heads out into the rain, rich with information. Derthag's glances after him—and thinks to go with him, dragon or not. Bergrid is the scarier option.
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abbey
 Posted: Oct 16 2015, 10:00 PM
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Before there can be a scuffle, it's settled. Rolf puts a hand on Bergrid's chest, and the men glower at Derthag and at each other, in anger and uncertainty. They will remember that Derthag welched on a bet, beetle or no beetle.

Not long after, the inn closes its downstairs tavern for the night. The drinkers leave or retire to their rooms; Maerwen stumbles out into the dark, a small, weaving figure.

The lord mayor's office doesn't abide by the same curfew. Its windows are still bright with candlelight when Medrash wanders up the stairs, and the oaken front doors are closed, but unlocked. The spire stands starkly against the night sky and the cobbled roof shines with the rain. Inside, the office is dry and warm, prefaced by a small lobby and an empty desk. Decorations are strewn about the place, draped over chairs and a low table, or suspended from the light fixtures. Lanterns and paper fish and long, glimmering strands of 'seaweed'—green-dyed hemp sewn with tiny jewels.

A half-painted banner says 'Happy Highharve'.

A door ahead is ajar, leading into what looks like a personal den. The light is on inside.
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XANDER
 Posted: Oct 26 2015, 01:08 PM
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In fairness, Medrash still knocks on the unlocked door -- several times, actually, and very loudly. Only then does he let himself in from the rain; he stands, dripping, for a some minutes, drying off.

The decorations speak to a brighter mood and better times than the tavern indicates. Medrash calls, "Good evening!", and then heads towards the light in the den.
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