The Planning Meeting Continues at the Humping Fly With a Call to Arms
Posted: Sat Nov 05, 2016 8:47 pm
The Humping Fly remained abuzz. Rodger had perched himself on a table littered with maps. There were several of Tarabon and one of a strange land he did not recognize. The original scroll had Kandor written across the top, but this had been crossed out and next to it was written Saldaea. Then there was a question mark. Rodger’s dedication to the map seemed to have come to a culmination with a bold underlining of the original Kandor at the top. He held his forehead in his palm: the reality of the distance and how little was known.
The idle commoners hurried back and forth between questions. There were rumors that these men of the north were the size of trollocs—if rumors of trollocs could be believed. There was a clear terror spreading when he walked in. The calm that the young man wore, the Tree emblazoned armor, and the shining badge on his hip seemed to reassure everyone that, at the very least, things were being done.
“Whose the new recruit?” “I heard his name’s Sati.” “He seems a bit young, don’t you think?” The rumors circled widely through the tavern until the young man was completely overwhelmed by the handshakes, congratulations, and tankards of ale.
An older sheriff walked in to a less enthusiastic and much more demanding welcome that mostly included the outstretched hands of refugees and impoverished Seanchan peasants who sought the help of these noble, humble scoundrel princes. He tossed gold crowns in the air as if he didn’t care.
As the poor split the wealth in a very orderly fashion which showed it was not an act of exuberance at all but a regular occurrence the Sheriff yelled, “People of Tarabon listen! We are at war! Troops are needed to fight the scourge of injustice that has plagued the land. Though we desperately try to stay out of politics and the foolery of the Northern squabbles we have been dragged through the dregs and forced to join. If you wish to enlist find your local Council member.”
He flashed his badge one last time before he took a seat next to Rodger. He set the map in his hand out on the table. It was clear he had been out for days looking for a map, it was also clear he had found one. Any day now it was potentially possible that something might happen maybe.
The idle commoners hurried back and forth between questions. There were rumors that these men of the north were the size of trollocs—if rumors of trollocs could be believed. There was a clear terror spreading when he walked in. The calm that the young man wore, the Tree emblazoned armor, and the shining badge on his hip seemed to reassure everyone that, at the very least, things were being done.
“Whose the new recruit?” “I heard his name’s Sati.” “He seems a bit young, don’t you think?” The rumors circled widely through the tavern until the young man was completely overwhelmed by the handshakes, congratulations, and tankards of ale.
An older sheriff walked in to a less enthusiastic and much more demanding welcome that mostly included the outstretched hands of refugees and impoverished Seanchan peasants who sought the help of these noble, humble scoundrel princes. He tossed gold crowns in the air as if he didn’t care.
As the poor split the wealth in a very orderly fashion which showed it was not an act of exuberance at all but a regular occurrence the Sheriff yelled, “People of Tarabon listen! We are at war! Troops are needed to fight the scourge of injustice that has plagued the land. Though we desperately try to stay out of politics and the foolery of the Northern squabbles we have been dragged through the dregs and forced to join. If you wish to enlist find your local Council member.”
He flashed his badge one last time before he took a seat next to Rodger. He set the map in his hand out on the table. It was clear he had been out for days looking for a map, it was also clear he had found one. Any day now it was potentially possible that something might happen maybe.