Rogue Pursuits
Posted: Fri Jul 15, 2016 8:08 am
// In a secluded cavern:
A Taraboner man stands murmuring, surrounded by others of his ilk. The light haired man clutches at pouches hanging from his belt and hidden in pockets. His fingers curl around the small leather bags and tighten, bone and sinew visibly bulging underneath his scarred skin. With each syllable his voice grows louder, each word accompanied by involuntary twitches of rage. His face twists and finally erupts, shouting 'Fools! Simple fireworks... this time they've gone too far.' His voice lowers to a coarse whisper. 'We'll show them, we will. We'll flood the land with our own goods and drive the Guild to its knees! '
// At the Galldrian Gate
Padrach Fellstir rides through the huge wooden gates, the mare foaming after the short journey from the Chapterhouse to the city. The rotund man seems oblivious to the heaving mare's plight as he turns short of the stables and instead heads south of the city. Along the street he inclines his head with deference at passing carriages rolling by, no doubt concealing nobility behind its curtained windows. Cairhien had always been a constant source of income for the Guild of Illuminators - the King himself hired the Guild most weekends for countless festivities. He tuts to himself in disgust. 'At least until that toad, Mos. Every last man and woman has fireworks. For free!' Padrach makes his way to the park where a member of the Guild waits. The two men confer discreetly before the Illuminator's Assistant takes a piece of parchment from his Master and tacks the notice upon a post:
Any able-bodied man or woman who turns in simple fireworks to an Illuminator's assistant will have the thanks and gratitude of the Guild. As a token of our thanks, we will grant one individual private access to the Guild's country cottage in the Hills of Cairhien for one month's time, as well as other sundries from our stores.
A Taraboner man stands murmuring, surrounded by others of his ilk. The light haired man clutches at pouches hanging from his belt and hidden in pockets. His fingers curl around the small leather bags and tighten, bone and sinew visibly bulging underneath his scarred skin. With each syllable his voice grows louder, each word accompanied by involuntary twitches of rage. His face twists and finally erupts, shouting 'Fools! Simple fireworks... this time they've gone too far.' His voice lowers to a coarse whisper. 'We'll show them, we will. We'll flood the land with our own goods and drive the Guild to its knees! '
// At the Galldrian Gate
Padrach Fellstir rides through the huge wooden gates, the mare foaming after the short journey from the Chapterhouse to the city. The rotund man seems oblivious to the heaving mare's plight as he turns short of the stables and instead heads south of the city. Along the street he inclines his head with deference at passing carriages rolling by, no doubt concealing nobility behind its curtained windows. Cairhien had always been a constant source of income for the Guild of Illuminators - the King himself hired the Guild most weekends for countless festivities. He tuts to himself in disgust. 'At least until that toad, Mos. Every last man and woman has fireworks. For free!' Padrach makes his way to the park where a member of the Guild waits. The two men confer discreetly before the Illuminator's Assistant takes a piece of parchment from his Master and tacks the notice upon a post:
Any able-bodied man or woman who turns in simple fireworks to an Illuminator's assistant will have the thanks and gratitude of the Guild. As a token of our thanks, we will grant one individual private access to the Guild's country cottage in the Hills of Cairhien for one month's time, as well as other sundries from our stores.