Reprise! Act 1!

[Carthrat]

A picturesque forest, untouched by human hands. Beautiful, tall oak trees tower into the sky, but don't block out all the light streaming into this pictorial garden. Shrubs and flowers adorn two sides of a lovingly crafted cobblestone path, swaying slightly in a reassuring light breeze that accompanies the land. Birds twitter in the air, their chatterings adding a level of almost emotional depth to the landscape. The sky is perfectly blue, and the air is crisp.

Ho! A figure comes! His booted feet stride along the path, his leg plates just visible at the point between the foot and the leg, obscured by his long green pants. He wears a breastplate, carefully polished, and a long, huge weapon is on his back. A giant, studded, club.

A look of irritation crosses his face, the pastoral scene before him doing nothing to calm his raging mind. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slim white tube; with his other hand, he sets the tip of it on fire. And puts it to his lips, inhaling.

A trail of weary smoke spews from his lips, and then the mutterings begin.

"Since when was there a ****ing lighting storm in ****ing downtown chicago during the ****ing autumn in a ****ing heatwave," he mumbles. "And why the **** does it have to be just when I'm ****ing calibrating the mechanism for a ****ing psi-driver. Why, world? Why?"

He reaches just below the top of a hill, and stops, truly upset. "And why the **** have I been walking along this path in circles for the LAST THREE DAYS? I swear, I've been to this part of the woods SIX TIMES! SIX! Urgh! I just wanna bloody break something!"

Whipping his mighty weapon from his back, the thick, clubbed iron slams into the ground, causing a mighty clang to be heard as it impacts upon the cobblestones, sending all the birds in the area flying, and a few of the smaller trees are now upended from their roots.

Turning back to the bath and replacing his weapon, the man strides once again over the crest of a hill-

-to see a medieval villiage lying before him, and a few shellshocked farmers tending upon the mysteriously flat are beyond him.

"Wha- the geography just dosn't match up.." mumbles Carthrat, walking towards the villiage and not really noticing the destruction a small earthquake must have recently caused. "I could've sword I was just here..."

[Rezantis]

On another side of the town, a young woman shifted her backpack uncomfortably as she walked purposefully towards the town, when a slight tremor was felt through the earth.

Pausing for a moment, her blue eyes blinked as she cast her eyes curiously around the area.  Nothing seeming to be out of place, she soon shrugged, and with a shake of her head, jostling her blonde hair, she started walking again, kicking a couple of pebbles as she went.

Thank the Gods, she was sick of walking.  Horses were just too expensive to be worthwhile these days . . .

Her stomach grumbled slightly.

Lunch would be nice, hopefully this place at least rates a decent inn . . .

It'd better, since it rated a (admittedly tiny) Mage's Guild branch, but that was more positioning than anything else.

Looking around at her surroundings some while walking into the town proper, she noticed the same lack of other travellers she'd seen for the last day or so.  Odd, because this place was something of a crosroads, but maybe she'd just gotten lucky.

Relm Tyrean had never been the most social of creatures.

[Carthrat]

Yawning, Carthrat approached the town gates.

"Welcome to Sun'y'dale! Population: 3123" the sign read, with what looked to be a hand-carved scene of a sun and flowers in a garden. Or something.

His taste for fine art sated, Carthrat wandered into the town and started locating a tavern.

Wherein there would be food, drink, a fire, girls, a bed.. ahh, bliss. He hadn't slept for three days trying to find his way out the bloody forest.

It didn't take long to find the tavern; it was situated at a crossroads of the town. It was nice, like a renaissance style place; there was a fountain in the middle, a few people were sitting around. He supposed it wasn't really a villiage. More of a town.

There were four buildings that really stood out, though, and each of them was a corner of it's own block. The place was arranged like a freaking grid. Weird, for a medieval town.

On one corner was the tavern. It was late afternoon, so people were beginning to trickle inside, no matter if they were other travellers, or just farmers looking for a drink.

Diagonally opposite the tavern was a tall building, over which a dramatically large iron ball as floating, as if suspended in mid-air. The hairs on the back of Carthrat's neck tickled; it must be magic, he mutters to himself.

From another building on the crossroads could be heard the repetive clanging of a blacksmith at work. Swords, horseshoes, and suits of armour were all on display so that one may purchase a fine piece of metalwork.

Opposite the blacksmith building was something akin to an apartment block. It had a simple sign outside it; "Union Office".

Mentally shrugging to himself, Carthrat enters the tavern..

[Rezantis]

Most people would look at Relm and see a 20-ish woman with blonde hair, wearing a short blue tunic, brown trews and carrying a backpack, trudging along the road (well, road might be a bit generous) towards the center of the town.

The observant would notice that her boots were solid somewhat heavy looking in comparison to the rest of her - and spattered with mud, as were the bottom of her trews.  They might then infer, correctly, that she'd recently travelled a decent distance on foot.

Almost everyone would notice the fact that her brow was currently creased in a frown.  This was not uncommon.

Anyone who had known her for some time, however, would probably groan at about this point, because they'd recognize the frown as Relm plotting something . . . generally for the purposes of satisfying her curiousity.  Which would usually end up satisfied, definitely . . .

. . . it just had this irritating habit of getting her and companions in hot water.

Accidents happen.  In any event . . .

--

Relm gave one more appraising look towards the Mage's Guild (well, she assumed it was the Mage's guild.  Not many other buildings would have a large iron ball suspended over their heads, only mages tended to have both the capability and the incredible desire to show it off with such a pointless display) before bending over the fountain.

Dropping her backpack on the ground as gently as dropping allowed (not very), Relm bent over the fountain, dipped her hands in and pulled  out a handful of water.

A moment of concentration later, she drank it, then straightened and hefted her pack.

I can't believe people actually consider this clean.  Ugh.

She paused a moment, watching another traveller enter the tavern - a warrior, by the looks of him, although not many humans wielded large clubs, let alone anything of that size.

Well, at least I can get some food, she noted, moving towards the tavern herself, and some rest wouldn't hurt.  I can deal with the mages tomorrow.

Arrogant pricks.

[Carthrat]

Carthrat can't help but glance at the woman drinking water out of a fountain as he walks past, wondering if she was really so surprised as to have that disgruntled look on her face. Honestly, the 'fresh' water around here was bad enough.

Or maybe he was just too damned used to all those added chemicals..

-

It's hard not to make an impression when you're larger than most trolls and wave around a club that's bigger than most people. While the words 'overcompensation' were heard in a couple of corners of the tavern, that word was spoken only very quietly, and to friends to speakers knew and trusted.

Walking straight up to the bar, Carthrat asks for... a mug of milk.

The results were unfortunately predictable. Once the barkeep got over the fact that the man in front of him was apparently *not* a hard drinker, all the intimidation factor was lost.

"Milk?! Next you'll be saying you want water," he rumbles. A pudgy man with a habit of imbibing on his own ale, he had a presence that could not be denied..

"Milk. Don't tell me you don't have any, I know it's used for mixing drinks," grunts back Carthrat, who also had a presence that really shouldn't be denied.

"I only keep a little under the bar," lies back the barkeep, wanting to sell something that actually costs money to buy.

"That's a lie! I know it!" lies Carthrat, eyes narrowing to sharpened points.

"I know you don't know that," lies back the barkeep.

"Do not."

"Do."

"Do not."

"Do."

"Do not."

"Do."

"Fine, give me some.. ale with milk. 1% ale, 99% milk," growls Carthrat, finally hitting upon what he thinks is an acceptible solution.

"Coming right up," snickers back the bar, doing some maths in his head to work out how much he can charge. There's the mixing fee, the regular ale fee, the milk fee, the irritating customer fee.. such an array of brilliant money-making devices!

[Rezantis]

Walking into the bar herself, Relm cast a glance around the room and noticed that most of the attention in the place - not that there was a great deal of attention, only being late afternoon the tavern didn't have many patrons - was focused on the large man she'd seen outside.

Which suited her fine, but now that she was a little close and paying a little more attention, she realised just how large he and his club actually were.

Whether or not he could actually wield it was another question, but in any event he was currently having a heated discussion with the bartender, who had something of a smirk plastered across his face.

Noting the barmaid standing idly near the bar with a long suffering look on her face, Relm waved to her for a moment before dropping herself inelegantly into a chair at the table she'd chosen - an empty one near the side of the room.

"What can I get ye today, milady?"

Relm looked up.  "What do you have to eat right now?"

"Well . . . we have some cold meat from lunch, and some mutton stew.  We won't have anything more until dinner, don't you know."

"Bowl of stew, then."

"Three coppers."

Dropping the requested money onto the table, Relm gave the barmaid a smile as the latter hustled off before looking over to the bar again.

[Carthrat]

Carthrat dropped his club from it's position over his shoulder and placed it on the ground, none too gently.

After the barkeep had recovered his footing (and watched a few of his customers spill their drinks), he managed to pour out a glass of milk, and added a tiny drop of ale into it.

"That'll be 5 coppers for the milk, 3 for the ale, and a 5 more for the mixing fee, bringing the total to.. a silver and three copper."

Carthrat stares at the man incredulously. "All the ale in this building probably isn't worth that much!" he states, not taking a sip of his drink. "I'll pay you 3 coppers for it."

"3 coppers? A measly 3 coppers?" retorts the man. "Why, the service alone is worth 5 or 6!"

"Look, mate, I know as well as you do that half the people in this tavern have barely a copper to their name," Carthrat replies, drawing several angry glares from the tenants. "Three coppers, or I throw this thing back in your face and take the door with me on my way out."

In the face of such a blunt method of persuasion, the barkeep relented, muttering something about "..union officials hearing about this.."

[Rezantis]

Well, maybe he -can- wield it . . . but that thing is incredibly heavy.  He must be inhumanly strong to even carry it.

Relm suppressed a snicker, looking at the altercation with a neutral expression.  Thirteen coppers was ridiculous, but the last thing she needed was to annoy the locals.  

Nice to see the greedy bastard being given what for, though.

[Carthrat]

Carthrat takes a few sips of his drink, noting the bartender hurrying away to someplace, leaving a serving girl to take care of the customers.

"Sorry about Gram, he's a bit of a leech," she comments, leaning down to face him (and exposing a fair bit of cleavage for his viewing pleasure). "If you want a room, I'll let you pay at a discount. Three coppers, eh?" she smiles, winking.

Carthrat tosses her the coppers; "Sure thing, sister," he replies. Thus, their transaction is completed.

-

*About 10 minutes later..*

Carthrat has managed to drink several pints of milk (Does a body good!), when suddenly..

"Hold it there!" bellows a deep, booming voice. The door to the tavern blasts open, revealing a tall, angry looking man with thick sideburns and a moustache. He's got a sword at his side, and looks ready to cut into things with wild abandon.

Flanking him are two slightly shorter but no-less-angry looking men, armed with wooden clubs.

"You there!" the lead man bellows. "Are you responsible for incriminating this man as an untrustworthy salesman? A disgusting crook?"

Carthrat blinks. "Well, uh, if you mean pointing out he was waaay overcharging-"

"Overcharging! What gives you the right to decide how much is too much?! That job is best left to...

THE UNION!"

Dramatic Lightning accompanies his statement, and is quickly followed by a patering of rain on the ground.

"Duh.." replies Carthrat, thoroughly lost for words.

"So! Do you plead guilty?" bellows the lead man, pointing an accusatory finger into Carthrat's face.

"Er.. No?" replies Carthrat, thoroughly bemused. His hand strays to his club..

"Oho! So, tell me. How much did this man wish to sell his fine beverage to you?" speaketh the lead goon, indicating the barkeep, who just then apporached behind him.

"Thirteen coppers," replies Carthrat, irritated. "Look, I-"

"And just HOW MUCH did you pay him?" bellows the man.

"Er.. three coppers. And overpriced, at that." For fear of incriminating her (Though he can't guess what for), Carthrat dosn't mention the barmaid selling milk to her for one copper a mug.

"So! See this before you, citizens of Sun'Y'Dale! The UNION has uncovered this man, who has been prepared to rip off his humble servant, the barkeep! He does not deserve forgiveness, only punishment!"

"Oi, oi, oi!" replies Carthrat, getting upset. "Look here! Um.. a pint of milk is worth less than some.. er, stew, right?" he says, upset.

The man ponders. "I must confer with my asssoicates. Wait a moment."

A short discussion later..

"The Union has agreed that a pint of milk is worth less than a bowl of stew," he says, finally.

"Well, um.. you there! Blondie! How much was that stuff you're eating?" Carthrat asks, pointing at Relm.

[Rezantis]

Relm raised an eyebrow, and swallowed her mouthful of stew.  Good stew, as they went.

"3 coppers, beefcake."

[Carthrat]

"And from that, you have undenaible testamony that I have in fact paid MORE than the milk was worth!" shoots out Carthrat, triumphant.

"Hmm.. in that case," replies the union official, turning to the barkeep, who is now speaking very quickly.

The official whirls around, pointing an accusatory finger at Carthrat.. again.

"You, sir, have not been telling the full truth! This good man claims he mixed ALE and MILK for you!"

Carthrat blinks. "Ara- oh, come on, it was like half a drop-"

"Silence! To determine what else you might have been LYING about, you will COME WITH US... after we take a Union Check Pass. You DO have a pass, right?" glowers the official, holding his hand out.

"Well, uh, actually.." blinks Carthrat. "No?"

While the Head Official is busy tormenting the unfortunate warrior, his lackeys start checking around the locals, asking questions like.. "Do you have your union pass with you?" and "Can I see your union pass?"

Inevitably, they reach Relms corner table..

[Rezantis]

Relm looked up again.

"Do you mind?  I'm trying to eat my stew."

[Carthrat]

"Ah, I'm sorry, Miss, but you really must present your Union Pass. It's a matter of town security, you see," replies the lackey, looking somewhat nervous.

Meanwhile, Carthrat and the Head Unionizer are having a shouting match..

[Rezantis]

"Well, I only arrived today, so I have no idea about your town security . . . but my eating stew can't really be a problem, can it?  I'm hungry."

Relm turned a cheerful smile on the lackey.

Must . . . restrain . . . fist . . . of . . . death . . .

Why did people always interrupt her meals?

[Carthrat]

"It's not so much the stew, miss, as your presence here. Look, you could've showed me your pass and I'dve been gone by now," replies the lackey.

Carthrat and the Head Unionizer are literally butting heads at this point..