#benoir

Digital Crate Digging Continues as we come through on this Thankful / Throwback Thursday conjunction. The saga  / struggle continues as energies combine might even blow minds mentioned by the Delfonics as we fight back with these sonic assaults; we’re dropping the funk son… …or daughter; providing the keys to those caught up in the system / matrix  based on how they’re living; everybody is…

A cloaked figure slipped through the streets on nimble feet, managing to not bump into anyone despite the market day crowd that bustled around them. Not that anyone would have willingly bumped into this particular figure if they happened to notice them. The figure was gangly and hunchbacked, wearing a heavy dark cloak that kept their face in deep shadows, though people tended to guess at the disfigured face that surely lay beneath. The few shop keepers who had actually interacted with the figure were not the type for idle gossip, though one old baker woman insisted the figure had bought some bread from her a few years earlier, and spoke in a deep raspy voice, and when they went to pay, she noticed long clawed fingers, and skin darker than night. She would insist it was a shade, though that quickly earned her the title of madwoman, seeing as even small children knew that was only a story to remind children to not go out after dark, and to lock their houses at night.

Even so, people got out of their way when the figure drew near. No one asked any questions, or hassled them. No merchants tried to sell them anything, even when the figure would come and inspect their wares. No one tried to make eye contact, and would quickly look away if the figure turned in their general direction, which was just how he liked it. It allowed him to move throughout the city as he pleased.

He looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching before slipping into a shadowed alley, and through an open door, shutting it silently behind him. He listened for a second in the dark before crossing the room and peeking out a small crack in the wooden door. He watched as a large barrel chested man shook hands with a rather proud looking young noble. He watched as the young man gave the merchant a sack of gold, and receive the long thin sword from the smith. Their words were lost amid the roar of the forge and the bustling crowd beyond, but he knew the young man was praising his craftsmanship. Not even a stuck up noble could deny that he was the best smith in the city, perhaps even in all of Panerum. After a few moments, the young man left.

The smith closed the large doors of the smithy, locking them behind him, and turned towards the back wall and called out. “Its just us, Rhys. You can come out now.”

The door opened and the cloaked figure stepped out into the light.

“I was beginning to wonder if you would show up today.” The smithy chuckled and motioned for him to follow him to a table in the back corner, where there was a large piece of canvas covering something on the table. “Now I know you didn’t want anything too fancy, and you don’t want to pay an arm and a leg for things you don’t need, so consider the extras on the house, as a thank you for your patronage.” The smithy pulled back the cloth to reveal an unusual set of leather armour, along with a matching quiver and an assortment of sheaths, all with intricate tooling and scroll work. “Now I know we took a lot of measurements before hand, but it’s probably best to try it all on here, so I can make any adjustments as necessary, and save you an extra trip.”

The figure hesitated a moment before asking in a voice that sounded like the rumble of a landslide “Are you absolutely sure that we’re alone?”

The smithy nodded seriously “No one here but us two, and as long as you closed the doors behind you, everything is locked up tight.”

The figure slowly lifted black clawed hands and undid the cloak’s fastening, and let his hood slip back over his head, revealing a handsome angular face with turquoise eyes. His long straight hair was a soft chestnut colour, and framed his face neatly in the front, with the rest tied at the nape of his neck. His skin was a ruddy caramel, looking almost more Gakali than Ealorn. He slipped the long cape off his shoulders and lay it on the table, and straightened out to his full height, adjusting the dark tight fitting tunic he wore underneath. From behind him a set of wings extended out to either side, stretching after their confinement. They were large and rounded like an owl’s wings, and of a light tawny grey colour with dark bars along the undersides.

The smith smiled widely as he commented “Never get tired of seeing those. Mighty fine wings you’ve got there.”

Rhys shifted uncomfortably, not being used to getting compliments on his wings. “Thanks?” he mumbled before gesturing to the pile of armour.

“Right.” The smithy grabbed a few of the pieces. “Would you like me to show you how to put the pieces together?”

The young man nodded and let the smith dress him. First came a chest piece that was built in several layers, and well articulated, strapped on by wide straps that went over his shoulders, crossed between his wings, and came around just above his hips. Then came a piece that covered his lower back, with straps that attached to the front piece. The smithy carefully disentangled a series of thin leather straps before attaching a set of articulated pauldrons firmly on his shoulders, carefully braiding the straps through a series of loops designed to make them fit tightly without reducing his range of motion or touching his wings. Lastly the smith strapped on grieves and a set of archers bracers. “Give that a go, see how it all feels.”

Rhys extended his wings as high and wide as they could go, then flapping them just enough to get his feet off the ground. He set down and folded his wings tightly against himself, and shuffled them for a few seconds before nodding “Fits well.”

The smith beamed. “ I’ve never made anything like this before, but to be fair other than you I don’t know many people with wings.” He laughed a deep belly laugh that tapered off to a chuckle when he noticed the boy didn’t laugh along with him.

“Alright. So the last bits here…” He paused to gather up the various pieces. “ This one gave me a bit of trouble, but I finally got it all figured out.” He handed Rhys a hip quiver that was attached to a wide belt with several pouches and small metal and leather loops. “The quiver has a special mechanism in it that makes sure that your arrows don’t move around when you’re flying, and won’t fall out if you pull any fancy moves.” He pointed to the leather loops as he spoke. “These are for attaching your smoke shields, which by the way, I have more made…” The smith wandered of for a few moments to a back room, and reappeared carrying a few handfuls of small black orbs that looked like dried fruit. “Remember, you have to crush these to get them to work right. You stick them in like so, and they wont be falling out. But just tap right here,” He demonstrated with deft hands. “and they pop right out.” He then pointed to the small metal loops. “These are designed to go along with these sheaths.” He picked them up off the table and showed him how to attach them.

“While I appreciate your thoroughness, I do already have sheaths for my weapons.”

The smith tutted him off. “Nonsense. They wouldn’t have matched. Besides, those are old and probably don’t even hold the weapons firmly anyways.” He quickly waved off any protest, and spoke in a parental voice, raising a finger and shaking it at the younger man. “Now remember, this won’t save you from a broken wing. You have got to be more careful flying in the forests. You could end up being caught by gods know what kind of creatures, that would do gods know what to you, not to mention the embarrassment of being downed by a tree.”

Rhys smiled sheepishly before reaching for his cloak and putting it on as he spoke, careful to tuck his wings up close to his body. “Your concern is duly noted. I will certainly be more careful after that last incident.” He handed the smith a large pouch of coins. “The armour is beautiful, Bernoir. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for this great kindness you have done.”

Bernoir waved off his thanks. “It’s the least I could do. And if you want to thanks somebody for the design, you should go talk to Esmi. She designed all of it, especially for you. I think that girl’s got a crush on you.” He gave Rhys a nudge with his elbow and winked at him. Benoir’s youngest daughter was head over heels for him, and they both knew it. While Rhys couldn’t really find a particular flaw with her, or any reason why they wouldn’t make a good match, he simply never felt any attraction to the girl. Or anyone in general really. He was content being alone, and felt no need to change that. The excuse he gave was that he wouldn’t be able to take care of her with his life style, and she deserved the better things in life. ‘Besides,’ He would joke ‘what would our children look like?’ That always got a bright eyed smile out of her.

Hello all,

This is a message for you

Bien sincèrement

Brigitte

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On 22 Apr 2012, at 09:20, [email protected] wrote:

Mon cher ami,

You are invited to Brigitte and Antoine's anniversary party at our holiday chateau on the 2nd of August for dinner and drinks along with the Augustine pleine lune.

The event will begin with an aperitif in the foyer at 20:30. 

Dinner will be served at 21:30 in the big salle à manger - There will be a vegetarian option of course - followed by dessert of course by my beloved Francois who has given me the honour of preparing this special delicacy desserts for us.

We are delighted to celebrating this special moment with you

Yours truly