Itinerant: A Pilgrim Quest
- Location
- scrabbling
Hmm...I think that's the most description of the pilgrim we've ever gotten. Mouse-grey hair, eh?
but no mention of if she be fair or black 9/10
[X] …came closer nonetheless, not allowing the mutt to scare you.
but no mention of if she be fair or black 9/10
[X] …came closer nonetheless, not allowing the mutt to scare you.
7.2 The Fisherman's Wife
Gargulec
impact!
- Location
- a garden
A man once attended an academic conference, which lasted four days. He thought to himself: "how bad can it be; I am sure to have free time in the evenings, I will surely see to all of my work and obligations, and will not fail behind in any of them". Then, the conference ate a week of his life. The man was proven to be a fool, widely ridiculed and spent the rest of his days in deep shame. Anyway. You wanted for the dog to draw someone out! And received an update.
The dog barked at you a few more times, giving a distinct impression that he was doing it out of some sense of duty, or perhaps just a force of habit. Yet, you didn't come any closer, waiting to see if the mutt was heard by anyone inside. And he should be; for all of his shaggy look, he had quite a voice, the shrill barks carrying far into the lake.
You did not have to wait for long. In a moment, the doors to the shack opened, revealing to you a stocky, gray-haired woman, her dress the colour of damp soil.
"Quiet, you damn mongrel!" she yelled in the direction of the dog, who, apparently used to this, barked one final time, and shut up, settling down. The woman sighed, and looked at you, squinting heavily.
"I've told you not to come this week, woman" she spat. "Nothing left for you! Go pester someone else!"
You came a few steps closer, and saw the woman grow pale, her eyes widening.
"Oh… Saints gracious…" she murmured, taking a step back, fixating her sights on the spear in your hand, and the scar running across your face. "I didn't mean to… my eyes are not what they used to be…"
She moved her hand to slam the door shut.
"I thought you were that madwoman" her voice cracked. "I didn't mean to offend you, good sir, no, none at all…" she glanced out towards the lake, as if hoping to see some sort of respite come from there, then towards the dog, who was now ignoring you. "Please, come inside, there is a stew on the fire" she finally sighed, stepping aside. "The Saints do despise those who turn away strangers, do they not?" she added, forcing a smile.
You followed in, leaving the spear and the shield at the door; partially out of custom and courtesy, and partially because it was so narrow, that it would be difficult to squeeze in through.
It was dark inside, and the air smelled of smoke and fish. Over the embers of the firepit, a pot of stew bubbled, and you could feel your mouth water at the sight of it. You were hungrier than you realized.
"Please, settle yourself down, be at home, I will bring wine…" she kept on murmuring, shuffling around. She didn't look at you at all, either too afraid or too disgusted. Or some combination of both.
There was a loaf of rye bread by the fire, and you tore a loaf from it, shaping it into a spoon, then took it to the stew. It was warm, and nothing about it mattered, beyond that. You ate, hungrily, and in silence, feeling the woman's eyes on you. She disappeared for a moment, and returned carrying a clay mug, placing it by your feet. You took it, and drank; the wine was thin and sour.
The silence stretched.
Finally, the woman spoke, in a fearful, dull voice.
"Lord" she addressed you "by the Saints that are good, please do not take anything from us; there is nothing to take. Eat and drink all you want, but please, do not harm us."
She spoke those words like a well-learned prayer, still averting her eyes. And you thought about once hearing that a man exiled, a man without family, a man without home, is like a wolf, a danger to all people of good religion.
You looked at the woman, and she looked aside. The shack could serve a family, but she was the only one inside. There was more stew in the pot than she could possibly eat – it waited for someone. Probably someone else than you.
You…
[ ] …searched your pack for a coin, placed it by the fire, and left without a word.
[ ] …apologized for the intrusion and introduced yourself as a pilgrim.
[ ] …said nothing, and waited.
7.2 The Fisherman's Wife
The dog barked at you a few more times, giving a distinct impression that he was doing it out of some sense of duty, or perhaps just a force of habit. Yet, you didn't come any closer, waiting to see if the mutt was heard by anyone inside. And he should be; for all of his shaggy look, he had quite a voice, the shrill barks carrying far into the lake.
You did not have to wait for long. In a moment, the doors to the shack opened, revealing to you a stocky, gray-haired woman, her dress the colour of damp soil.
"Quiet, you damn mongrel!" she yelled in the direction of the dog, who, apparently used to this, barked one final time, and shut up, settling down. The woman sighed, and looked at you, squinting heavily.
"I've told you not to come this week, woman" she spat. "Nothing left for you! Go pester someone else!"
You came a few steps closer, and saw the woman grow pale, her eyes widening.
"Oh… Saints gracious…" she murmured, taking a step back, fixating her sights on the spear in your hand, and the scar running across your face. "I didn't mean to… my eyes are not what they used to be…"
She moved her hand to slam the door shut.
"I thought you were that madwoman" her voice cracked. "I didn't mean to offend you, good sir, no, none at all…" she glanced out towards the lake, as if hoping to see some sort of respite come from there, then towards the dog, who was now ignoring you. "Please, come inside, there is a stew on the fire" she finally sighed, stepping aside. "The Saints do despise those who turn away strangers, do they not?" she added, forcing a smile.
You followed in, leaving the spear and the shield at the door; partially out of custom and courtesy, and partially because it was so narrow, that it would be difficult to squeeze in through.
It was dark inside, and the air smelled of smoke and fish. Over the embers of the firepit, a pot of stew bubbled, and you could feel your mouth water at the sight of it. You were hungrier than you realized.
"Please, settle yourself down, be at home, I will bring wine…" she kept on murmuring, shuffling around. She didn't look at you at all, either too afraid or too disgusted. Or some combination of both.
There was a loaf of rye bread by the fire, and you tore a loaf from it, shaping it into a spoon, then took it to the stew. It was warm, and nothing about it mattered, beyond that. You ate, hungrily, and in silence, feeling the woman's eyes on you. She disappeared for a moment, and returned carrying a clay mug, placing it by your feet. You took it, and drank; the wine was thin and sour.
The silence stretched.
Finally, the woman spoke, in a fearful, dull voice.
"Lord" she addressed you "by the Saints that are good, please do not take anything from us; there is nothing to take. Eat and drink all you want, but please, do not harm us."
She spoke those words like a well-learned prayer, still averting her eyes. And you thought about once hearing that a man exiled, a man without family, a man without home, is like a wolf, a danger to all people of good religion.
You looked at the woman, and she looked aside. The shack could serve a family, but she was the only one inside. There was more stew in the pot than she could possibly eat – it waited for someone. Probably someone else than you.
You…
[ ] …searched your pack for a coin, placed it by the fire, and left without a word.
[ ] …apologized for the intrusion and introduced yourself as a pilgrim.
[ ] …said nothing, and waited.
- Location
- scrabbling
[X] …apologized for the intrusion and introduced yourself as a pilgrim.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
They did eat stew like that? Did peasants not have utensils? I mean, I know the forks were a later invention, but spoons have been around since time immemorial.
Either her eyesight is really poor, or she does not believe her eyes. Anyway, I wonder why she - they? - live here, away from people. It does not look like they are too far removed from exiles themselves.
[X] …apologized for the intrusion and introduced yourself as a pilgrim.
Anyway, I guess there is a conversation to be had. If anything, about where we are now and where we should be going.
Tempted to say nothing and see what happens, though.
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Gargulec
impact!
- Location
- a garden
They did! They had spoons, too, but the Pilgrim lost hers somewhere. It is not in her kit. So she improvised. But yeah, using bread as a makeshift spoon for soups and stews was totally a very wide-spread practice. And not even among peasantry! It is very important to remember that while utensils were a thing, their usage did not take any form remotely similar to modern until, at the very earliest, XVIth century. Norbert Elias wrote so, and Norbert Elias was a learned man, so I am trusting Norbert Elias on that.
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- Location
- ?
[x] …searched your pack for a coin, placed it by the fire, and left without a word.
Mostly because it sounds cool ^^'
E: I'd stay if I thought RHM would show up, but looks like it won't happen this week. I'm guessing her husband is the one she's waiting for, considering the title. Can't say I care much for meeting them, and he might have better eyesight. Not sure I want rumors spreading about us.
Mostly because it sounds cool ^^'
E: I'd stay if I thought RHM would show up, but looks like it won't happen this week. I'm guessing her husband is the one she's waiting for, considering the title. Can't say I care much for meeting them, and he might have better eyesight. Not sure I want rumors spreading about us.
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- Location
- United States
[x] …searched your pack for a coin, placed it by the fire, and left without a word.
I really like this option! It's super mysterious, we can pay the lady back for the stew, and there won't be rumors spreading about a girl with a scarred face appearing by the lake she was laid to rest in.
Also, we haven't said a word this whole time. It feels too awkward to introduce ourselves now...
Wait, what kind of coins do we have again? If all we have are the equivalent of $100 bills, I'll switch my vote to apologizing and introducing. Too much money will only cause more problems for the woman.
I really like this option! It's super mysterious, we can pay the lady back for the stew, and there won't be rumors spreading about a girl with a scarred face appearing by the lake she was laid to rest in.
Also, we haven't said a word this whole time. It feels too awkward to introduce ourselves now...
Wait, what kind of coins do we have again? If all we have are the equivalent of $100 bills, I'll switch my vote to apologizing and introducing. Too much money will only cause more problems for the woman.
Gargulec
impact!
- Location
- a garden
The coins you have are silver denars. To put in perspective, one of those pays for several kilograms of bread (I don't know how many exactly off-hand, would have to check the books). Yeah, it is an equivalent of a 100$ bill, but there are no lower denominations, so it is not like they would think it _super_ weird. Just a bit weird.
- Location
- Upon the back of the Great A'Tuin
[X] …apologized for the intrusion and introduced yourself as a pilgrim.
Let us put the poor women's mind at ease (hopefully). If we wanted to avoid the possibility of starting a rumor surrounding us we should never have approached the hut. At this point, all we call do is try and ensure that they know we mean no harm. Better to be thought of as a strange pilgrim than a bandit.
We also need information and a night inside would be very welcome. Perhaps we can repay them buying taking care of some chores (we have experience roofing!) rather than a coin since I don't know if they have a place to spend it here in the middle of nowhere.
Let us put the poor women's mind at ease (hopefully). If we wanted to avoid the possibility of starting a rumor surrounding us we should never have approached the hut. At this point, all we call do is try and ensure that they know we mean no harm. Better to be thought of as a strange pilgrim than a bandit.
We also need information and a night inside would be very welcome. Perhaps we can repay them buying taking care of some chores (we have experience roofing!) rather than a coin since I don't know if they have a place to spend it here in the middle of nowhere.
- Location
- ?
Out of curiosity, are you thinking Kreia right now?
Honestly, 100$ equivalent is not the kind of money that causes problems. It solves problems. I wish someone gave me a hundred dollars. ;_;
I don't think talking would make her feel better at this point :/
We go from a somewhat weird warrior guy to a hella weird and creepy warrior woman??? What is this I don't even???
Best way to put her at ease is leaving, this much I'm certain of.
As for rumors, there's a difference between a rumor of a warrior dude and, well. Us. Whatever we are, by now.
- Location
- United States
I think I didn't explain myself well, sorry.
The amount of money isn't the issue so much as the denomination. If a poor peasant woman tries to buy something with a solid gold coin, people would easily assume she stole it and/or target her for robbery. If it was the same amount of money, but in the lowest denomination, it wouldn't be an issue.
EDIT: since leaving a coin wouldn't be too strange, I'm sticking with my vote.
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Scify
It always starts with a lighthouse.
[X] …searched your pack for a coin, placed it by the fire, and left without a word.
Wot's a Kreia, and can we use it to destroy a small moon?
Also made the hard dry bread much more edible.
[X] …apologized for the intrusion and introduced yourself as a pilgrim.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Dry bread? I thought you use a fresh one for this purpose, or you won't be able to shape it into anything.
Just a moon? That would be underperforming.
Kreia is a character from the game Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic II by Obsidian. Notable for her rather unusual (and to me, highly annoying) take on things. Also,
a Sith Lord
Well, it'd be better if she didn't think we were there to harm them and take whatever they have with the force of arms. But my reasoning for the talk does not involve her comfort in the slightest.
We were planning to search for people eventually, and these people are hardly worse than those we might or might not find next. If we go now - then where do we even go?
Our next possible target is... the city of High Tower that the bishop of Grace told us about? Or the city of Pillars? Now that we aren't a completely helpless pretty face, I am starting to get curious about what its deal is.
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7.3 Unfinished Pilgrimages
Gargulec
impact!
- Location
- a garden
Introduce yourself! That was your choice. Was it a correct one? Every choice is correct, unless it isn't! Anyway, the update is here:
You searched for words with which you could explain who you were. But in the end, you said little.
"I am a pilgrim" you explained, eating the last of the bread. "I apologize for arriving so suddenly, and I thank you for being hosted. Saints bless you."
The woman made a gesture of devotion again, and looked at you closely. You could not tell if she believed you. You waited.
"And where is your pilgrimage taking you?" she asked. She sounded unsure, and there was something in the question that made you think that she asked it only because she could not think of anything else to say.
"To the city of Step" you replied quietly, and smiled. She gasped; seeing your face twist with the expression was not easy for her. But, realizing what you were trying to show, she smiled back.
"That's very far away."
"Yes" you nodded.
"My husband once took a pilgrimage" the woman said, after a pause. "In the spring. To Saint Arnulf, in the city of Pillars. Our son was very sick, and we thought he would die. But he never reached the city…"
She did not look at you as she spoke. Instead, she found herself a long stick, and aimlessly picked with it at the coals in the firepit.
"He never did reach the city. He met a man on the road, who was a healer, and the man helped our son instead. Gave him a very strong poultice, and did not ask for anything in return. He was a saint."
Finally contended with the state of the firepit, she set the stick aside. She did not look at you.
"I think that he should have made the pilgrimage. The Saint is probably angry at him. That he made his promise, and then did not fulfil it. You promised to make this pilgrimage of yours?"
"I did" you replied, still smiling. The woman shrugged.
"There used to be a girl, at the lakeside" she continued. From the pouch at her belt, she drew a bone needle and started twirling it between her fingers, fixating her eyes on it. "She came in the early spring, and slept under open skies. She spoke of strange things. Of a pilgrim and a warrior, looking for the city of Step. Of how… she fought. We thought her quite mad, but we gave her food sometimes. She kept coming again, and again, so finally, I told her to leave. We do not have much to share. But she insisted on coming anyway, and what was I to do? But now, I have not seen her for some days."
She hid the needle, and finally forced herself to look directly in your eyes.
"Was she waiting for you?"
"Yes."
The woman looked aside.
"I think she might have died. But I can take you to the place where she used to sleep. My husband will not return from the lake for some more hours, so I can spare the time."
You nodded, and said:
[ ] "Take me there."
[ ] "I do not need that."
7.3 Unfinished Pilgrimages
You searched for words with which you could explain who you were. But in the end, you said little.
"I am a pilgrim" you explained, eating the last of the bread. "I apologize for arriving so suddenly, and I thank you for being hosted. Saints bless you."
The woman made a gesture of devotion again, and looked at you closely. You could not tell if she believed you. You waited.
"And where is your pilgrimage taking you?" she asked. She sounded unsure, and there was something in the question that made you think that she asked it only because she could not think of anything else to say.
"To the city of Step" you replied quietly, and smiled. She gasped; seeing your face twist with the expression was not easy for her. But, realizing what you were trying to show, she smiled back.
"That's very far away."
"Yes" you nodded.
"My husband once took a pilgrimage" the woman said, after a pause. "In the spring. To Saint Arnulf, in the city of Pillars. Our son was very sick, and we thought he would die. But he never reached the city…"
She did not look at you as she spoke. Instead, she found herself a long stick, and aimlessly picked with it at the coals in the firepit.
"He never did reach the city. He met a man on the road, who was a healer, and the man helped our son instead. Gave him a very strong poultice, and did not ask for anything in return. He was a saint."
Finally contended with the state of the firepit, she set the stick aside. She did not look at you.
"I think that he should have made the pilgrimage. The Saint is probably angry at him. That he made his promise, and then did not fulfil it. You promised to make this pilgrimage of yours?"
"I did" you replied, still smiling. The woman shrugged.
"There used to be a girl, at the lakeside" she continued. From the pouch at her belt, she drew a bone needle and started twirling it between her fingers, fixating her eyes on it. "She came in the early spring, and slept under open skies. She spoke of strange things. Of a pilgrim and a warrior, looking for the city of Step. Of how… she fought. We thought her quite mad, but we gave her food sometimes. She kept coming again, and again, so finally, I told her to leave. We do not have much to share. But she insisted on coming anyway, and what was I to do? But now, I have not seen her for some days."
She hid the needle, and finally forced herself to look directly in your eyes.
"Was she waiting for you?"
"Yes."
The woman looked aside.
"I think she might have died. But I can take you to the place where she used to sleep. My husband will not return from the lake for some more hours, so I can spare the time."
You nodded, and said:
[ ] "Take me there."
[ ] "I do not need that."
- Location
- St. Petersburg
Well, well. Yes, I wanted to hear about her.
The needle, the hut in the middle of nowhere, not looking us in the eyes. Talks about a husband, but not about her son. What happened to him?
Something is going on with her. Do we have a duck? We could use a duck.
Tempted to go there, hugging the knife. Trust is a commodity these days, and our weapons are left at the doorstep. And our garb is not cheap. Who knows how these people earn their living?
If she is offering us just a place to show:
[X] "Take me there."
And if she is offering us a place to sleep (not sure, at first I read it that way. @Gargulec?):
-[ ] But be on your guard and do not sleep.
-[ ] Listen in on what she would talk about with the husband if you can
The needle, the hut in the middle of nowhere, not looking us in the eyes. Talks about a husband, but not about her son. What happened to him?
Something is going on with her. Do we have a duck? We could use a duck.
Tempted to go there, hugging the knife. Trust is a commodity these days, and our weapons are left at the doorstep. And our garb is not cheap. Who knows how these people earn their living?
If she is offering us just a place to show:
[X] "Take me there."
And if she is offering us a place to sleep (not sure, at first I read it that way. @Gargulec?):
-[ ] But be on your guard and do not sleep.
-[ ] Listen in on what she would talk about with the husband if you can
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