Post by Lady Aislin Creed of Eohmark on Dec 20, 2008 13:51:33 GMT -6
Aman-ud-Din- Winter time was perhasp the Arabian's least favourite time of year here in the European world. Snow had been a relatively new thing to witness here, but even now, after years of seeing it, it was still a sight that seemed strange to him. The chill that seemed constant during the winter months had long since seeped into his bones and joints, making them ache all the more. However, it was nothing a warm fire, a wonderful cup of tea, and a puff from the hookah could not remedy. With the looming war hanging over the heads of Skye, there was much talk about the city, talk that even reached his ears. It weighted heavily on his heart, but God's will be done. Even now, as he sat on the floor by the hearth and sitting area, the thick black and white fur cloak had been pulled around his shoulders more, partly hiding the black robes of his people. The black kufiyya was held down by the black and gold woolen coils of the agal, and the ends of the kufiyya were left to hang freely, exposing his face entirely. The tip of the hose attached to the hookah pipe beside him was placed in his mouth as lips sucked on it lightly, leaving dark eyes to stare at Aislin, before he pulled it from her lips and passed the tip to her. Grey smoke rolled from slightly parted lips as he smiled. ``Now that you bear no child, your yolk is loosened to enjoy certain commodities.`` Aman-ud-Din said with a smirk
Aislin Creed- The season was nothing new to Aislin for she had lived in the Highlands for all of her life, or at least the time she could remember to. It was extremely better to not be heavy with child this passing winter though, for the weight was all her own now. Children were left with their nannys, which for once was not Aman-ud-Din since she was with him, while her husband prepared for war and all the glory that men wanted when killing for the land, freedom, rights to have a say or some other such they believed. Why much of the city was humming about with talk of war, Aislin knew perhaps as much as the Duchess and Duke themselves, thanks to being in the room when such was spoken of. This time, she would not be going, but already healers had been prepared to be sent off to battle, so they could tend to those who were wounded. The cloak of maroon had long since been shed and moved under her rear as she sat with her knees bent and legs spread slightly. No dress tonight, only male breeches, tunic and a vest to keep her warm. Aislin held a form that was once more boyish and had it not been for her striking female features, or long hair that was braided behind her back, one might assume otherwise. Her husband had once during battle, not even seeing her as a hat covered her face. At the moment, her interest was in the device that Aman-ud-Din was currently giving a great deal of his attention to. The smell always interested her. Yolk? ``Ye and yer words of new.`` Reaching for the end, she questioned him on how to do it before pulling it to her mouth, wrapping her wide lips about it and sucking the smoke from within the contraption. Unprepared for it, she inhaled through her nose and parted her lips slightly, trying to inhale it. The feeling of it tingled down her throat, making her cough softly at first. Small puffs of smoke moved from her mouth as the cough got worse. Her head turned to the side while her body reacted, trying to clear the tingle from it making her flesh tint slightly of red.
Ragnar Skallson- ::Front door of the inn was promptly opened to allow heavy boots of cured hide dyed black, though stained with travel, through and to the wooden floor. From above the figure was hid under a heavy and long overcoat also made of cured hide of brown, studded with brass facits. Supple leather gloves over large hands hung beside a broad sword of Nordic craftsmen ship, held tight in a scabbered of wood wrapped leather which hung from a broad belt. On closed overcoat rested a long beard of dirty blond, mustache braided as was the hair resting down over his shoulder, though let loose down his back, stopping just below his shoulder blades. Emerald green orbs set within his skull looked about quickly before heading to a table close to the fire. Letting a strong hand grip the back of a chair he gave it a drag across the tavern floor before sitting his large fraim down upon it, kicking long legs up and letting boot heels rest on the table ledge, one foot crossing over the other as a hand dove inside the overcoat to pull a small pouch, a bundle of twigs and a pipe out, which he started to fill with crumbled leaf from the pouch.::
Aman-ud-Din- The number of times that he had been in service of designated 'nanny' was beyond count, but Aman-ud-Din did not mind in the slightest. He enjoyed children, silently wishing for his own one day-though such a fate seemed beyond him at this point in time. Had Aislin ever smoked a pipe before? Aman-ud-Din was about to find out as he passed the end of the hose to Aislin and explained the mechanics of the strange water-based pipe of the Middle East. When she took it in her hands, the Arab sat back, leaning against the couch behind him as she inhaled, but then began to choke on the smoke. Aman-ud-Din smirked and could not hide the rich, husky laugh that fell from his lips as he watched poor Aislin cough and choke. A large hand reached out and patted her back lightly. ``It looks like you will need to get use to this.`` He mused softly. ``Slow breaths, my friend, do not inhale it all at once.`` And once his hand fell from her back, still chuckling softly, he smiled, watching Aislin, that is until his eyes lifted and turned to the sound of the door opening. Silently, the Arab watched as the strangely dressed man entered. But then again, Aman-ud-Din remembered that himself was a strangely dressed man here in Skye. The man pulled out his own pipe, smaller, and certainly more portable than his hookah, but, the Arab was set in his ways
Aislin Creed- Aislin was unsure if that pat on the back was really helping or not at this point. Still holding metal piece of the end of that long rope like extension, she looked to Aman-ud-Din, not really inspired by his words, but when did that stop her? Eyes were slightly blood shot and irritated with her hacking to try and get that tingle out. Her body took a few more seconds to adjust and ease down, though small coughs lingered now and then as her normally firm voice took on a bit of a husky under tone when she spoke. ``Aye..so ah be feeling.`` Oceanic eyes drifted to the tall and large male that came in and sat at the table closest to them. The man's dress, his hair and appearance, all stated two possible cultures he could come from, both of which Aislin had flowing in her own viens. ``Evening. `` She greeted the unknown male, very out of character for Aislin who never really spoke to strangers. Tonight was a night of trying new things, more so with her husband not about. Looking back to the pipe's end, she pulled it to her mouth and this time inhaled more slowly, letting the smoke come into her body like a soft breath. Only a bit, until she could adjust. Already she was feeling warm, but was that the only purpose? ``What be the purpose of this? What do it be doing for ye folk?`` It seemed Aislin did not get the concept of puff puff pass, for she hit that Hookah one more time, the finally passed it to Aman.
Ragnar Skallson- ::A brow was raised as he placed the small pouch back into the depths of his overcoat, leaving a pipe full of leaf in one large hand. Slowly his bearded face came to turn and alow eyes to rest upon her before he nodded to the woman softly.:: "Even'n." ::He repeated back, his accent a mix of Highland Scot and Norwegian, which sounded a bit strange. Pulling his feet up and off the table, they landed on the wooden floot with a heavy clomping noise before he pushed upon his knee to stand, pipe and twig in hand. Traversing across the way to the bar, he placed on order of mead from the tender before making his way back over to the two of them.:: "Scuse meh." ::He said softly to the two of them, brushing past them closely while transferring the small bundle of twigs held together with a bit of some hard and sticky gunk to his free hand and letting the end of an out reaching flame lick it, setting the end alight. Taking it back over the two of them he placed the fire soaked end and placed it into the pipe bowl, setting the leaf ablaze before flicking the twigs into the fire and placing the pipe into his mouth, drawing slowly upon it as the embers in the bowl flaired softly. Making his way back to the bar he grabbed his now prepared drink and took a seat where he had clamed his first one, much in the same manor. Taking the pipe from his mouth with a free hand, a flagon of mead in the other, he let his lips slowly part in the form of an O while exhaling, causing a ring of smoke to billow forth.::
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din was trying so hard not to laugh so openly at Aislin, for she was trying, but it was a rather comical thing to see. Anyone that smoked for the first time experienced such, they had all being in the same position as Aislin had been in. Chuckling still, his eyes did shift back to the rather tall man, and as Aislin greeted, Aman-ud-Din smiled politely. ``Ahlan wa sahlan, friend.`` The Arab greeted, his accent thick and richly coated with the dialect of his people. Turning back to Aislin, who was getting use to smoking the hookah now, he chuckled at the rather 'greedy' puffs she took before passing it back to him. ``Smoking is a social concept, my dear friend. It is tradition to sit and smoke among friends, it proves to be a very relaxing comfort. It stimulates socialization, that is what it does for my folk.`` Aman-ud-Din replied, before placing the metal tip back between his lips and drawing breaths from it as brown eyes lifted to watch the rather tall man move about. After two draws, Aman-ud-Din passed the tip back to Aislin, letting the smoke billow from his nostrils. ``Come, my friend, join us. Sit by the fire and be warmed, for the air outside is cold.`` Bedouin hospitality...it did not just apply to his homestead, but it was a lifestyle, one that he knew well.
Aislin Creed- Aislin was always back and forth when it came to strangers. Some times she was curious, other times she did not even glance their way. It all depended on the night and mood. Hearing the greeting back, she felt a bit of the vibration of his feet stomping to the ground. Eyes watched and her neck turned to see where he was off to before looking back to the hookah's end and then leaning to the side to allow him way to get near the flame. When Aman spoke, her attention and eyes shifted towards him as he explained. Social? How could one be social when they were coughing? Strange. Well, the unknown male might look like a barbarian, but he did not act savage at least with his short words that held some manners. Not that Aislin would care, for she was around men without manners often. Her husband was considered rude and unfiltered at times. Taking the Hookah end, she puffed on it gently, still coughing now and then as she continued to be use to it. ``Where ye be from then?`` There were men who looked like this one in dress that passed by often, but few stayed. Mercenaries mostly looking for short term work or an area to trade.
Ragnar Skallson- ::He looked between the two of them, then with a gentle shrug of his broad shoulders he nodded. Couldn't hurt, could it? The heavy thump of his feet coming back down upon the floor was a herald to him standing, pushing in the chair behind him after putting the pipe in his mouth for a moment to allow him the free hand. Taking the few steps over to the two of them in front of the hearth, he slowly sat down beside the two of them, his back resting against one side of the hearth and his legs crossed in front of him, his hand pushing down upon the heavy pommel of the weapon to allow him to sit comfortably. Placing the Flagon of mead upon the floor he unbuttoned the heavy coat, underneath a cured leather jerkin of deep brown. Taking up the flagon in hand and lifting it to his mouth he took a large drink from it before placing it down once again at his side and taking a long draw from the pipe, letting smoke creep from his nostrils slowly as not to blow it at either of them, as that would be rather rude. Taking the pipe by the bowl, cupped in index finger and thumb above his fist he finaly spoke.:: "Thank ye both for yea hospitalate. I'm from the North a Scotland, north cost, t'was where I be born least."
Aman-ud-Din- While Aman-ud-Din was more known for his services of many, many years to the Sultan of Pern, he did not forget where it was he had been born from. A bedouin tribe in the desert, once a simple camel herder who saved the Sultan's life years before the man had been crowned, and he would forever be such at heart. Only Aislin seemed to be coughing and choking on the smoke, for he was doing just fine. Still, the people of the East would be strange to those of the West, and those of the West would be strange to those of the East. Her coughing began to die down the more she grew accustomed to the hookah, and when she passed it back to the Arab, he placed it between his lips to take another puff. Deep, brown eyes watched the tall man join them by the hearth and on the floor, lowering his frame until he too was sitting with his own pipe. To blow smoke upon another was considered rude--unless it was asked for you could taste the tobacco that way. However, the man here was polite. Listening to the man's response, Aman-ud-Din nodded. ``Skye has citizens from across the span of the world, it seems. From the North..the South...and the East. It would seem that Aislin, here, is the only native among us to this place. I, like you, my friend, am a son of foreign soil...though from the East.`` The Arab spoke. By dress, voice, and the markings upon his cheeks, forehead--which was hidden under the kufiyya he wore, and the back of his hands, it was evidence he was not a native among the Scots. ``I am Aman-ud-Din. Welcome to Skye.``
Aislin Creed- Many who passed through here either stayed or moved on. It was nothing new and while most were unheard of -mostly from them moving out just as fast as they came- some were becoming known faces. Aislin herself, was not native to Skye, but was birthed in Sevenwaters and grew up in the Highlands of Scotland. No one cared to know she was from Sevenwaters like her husband, so when Aman spoke of her being native, she did not correct him. The accent from the other male was one she heard often in her own mother's voice, while her father's mingled with a Scottish twang, causing her own to mingle as well. ``Ah be Aislin.`` There was no need to stress her title here, for she was in a tavern, had been born lower class blood (or so she thought) and was only a noble by some chance of fate now.``What be bringing ye here to Skye? Ye be passing through or looking for a new place to call ye own? There be war about to happen here, many will be looking for a hand if ye be interested.`` Straight and to the point. Those within the tavern spoke to themselves or others at their table, leaving those by the fire to enjoy it. Rose was moving about, bringing Aislin a mug of mead. Just one, for Aislin got a bit mouthy with more.
Ragnar Skallson- "I live 'ere. Have since I came back from Norway....that'a been six winters 'go." ::He said with a nod and yet another swig of mead from the flagon, placing it beside him once more for another pull on the pipe, eyes of emerald closeing as he sighed it out.:: "Got a smithy up by me home ma father left meh when he decided ta stay in Norway, got a few contracts an workers under me belt, makin weapons an what not fer some o' the clans and people over seas." ::He let eyes fall open as he looked to the two of them, eyes bouncing from man to woman and then to the pipe again, putting his thumb under the neck as he relized he was starting to burn the glove.:: "Me names Ragnar Scallson...and Aye, I be interested."
Aman-ud-Din- Aislin, among the two here, was perhaps the most native than the two here. She lived in Scotland for many years, or so he thought, while he grew up in the Sands of the East. Aislin asked for mead, something that Aman-ud-Din would not drink himself. It was against his religion and culture to do so. When Rose came by, it was the typical request of hot water for he had his own herbs to add to it. While Aislin and the stranger talked, the tip still was pressed between lips, and while one hand reached for the pouch under the fur cloak, he was listening intently to the man's words and Aislin questions. It was hard for him to imagine Aislin mouthy...she already was! Pulling out the thing bag of anise seeds, he waited until Rose brought him the hot cup, and he thanked her in the tongue of his people, before setting the cup on the floor and setting the 'tea-bag' within the hot watter. ``My dear Aislin, you would make a fine military recruit messenger.`` He teased, chuckling, and as he did, clouds of smoke billowed from his parted lips. The tip was passed back to Aislin, and his eyes turned to the man that now introduced himself as Ragnar Scallson. That was a name he would need to repeat several times before he could pronounce it clearly. ``Well, Ragnar, it would seem you already are doing well for yourself. Smithing is a job in great demand. I am sure your profit will be great.`` The Arab commented, before eyes lowered to his cup, waiting for it to steep and the seeds to simmer in the hot water.
Aislin Creed- It was not uncommon for someone to have lived here longer then Aislin and her not see them, soe she believed him right off and gave a nod. She pondered for a moment if he was in the clan war that had passed, but it did not linger. A hand reached out for the end of the Hookah, taking it to her mouth and inhaling a bit more then she had been as her body was now use to it. Eyes shifted to Aman when he said she would make a fine recruiter. As if men would listen to her? Most think she is a boy when she dresses male, not a man. If it was not one thing, it was another. Looking back to Rangar, she gave a nod as smoke was blown in the opposite direction. ``Ye will find good buisness here. More so if ye be doing horse shoes as well as armory. The calvary be growing and horse masters are moving up in Turas lan as well as Eohmark. Will ye be going to war Rangar or nay, be staying about the lands to find profit?`` Some of the clans were going to war, why could the people not do the same?
Ragnar Skallson- "Bah, horse shoes I do, but I dun like it...boring work." ::He gave a slight wave of his hand before picking up the flagon and draining it of it's content with a content sigh.:: "Aye, I be goin' ta wor. I got enough money to set me self streight fer the rest o' me days if I spends it right, and 'nough people to work during the war to make me a bloody fortune during the war, the lack of one hand at the hamma wouldn't 'urt me pocket at all, me doing privet works and all mostly...don't make a master piece of a blade and go puttin it in'a crate and sendin it off. Sell that in person..." ::He nodded though, turning his eyes to look at the blazing fire as he pulled another draw from the pipe, pushing out a ring of smoke into the fire.:: "Aye..I'll be fighting, I'll not be getting into Valhalla with a fat pocket on it's own." ::That said, he turned to look at Aislin.:: "Who be lookin for a strong sword arm you know of?"
Aman-ud-Din- Aislin had more charm and allurement than she gave herself credit for. To him, Aislin did not look like a young boy, especially after giving birth to two children. Motherhood had filled her out a bit more these days, but to that the said nothing. Leaving the two of them to speak of war, which Aman-ud-Din had heard enough about for a day and did not particular want to dwell on such a gloomy topic now, the tip of the hose was moved from his lips and as smoke left in a grey cloud, his free hand reached from the cup of anise tea, perhaps now ready. Lifting the cup up, he glanced at the gold-tinted water, and inhaled the scent, and judging it ready to be consumed, he pressed the rim to his lips and took a sip of the tea. Delicious as always. After a second tentative sip, the cup was placed back down on the floor and leaning back more into the couch he sat in front of, the Arab placed the hose tip between his lips once more and continued to puff on the unique tobacco.
Aislin Creed- Some time back, Aislin may have wanted to sneak off to war. In fact she had, but the result had been two reason and there was no need to try again. She found out what war meant and it was not for her. At that moment, she was glad her husband was not about, for he might have snarled at the male for saying anything remotely close to horses was boring. Every one had an opinion. ``Ah do nay know who be looking for a strong arm, but ah know some of the clans be for or against it. War be always unpredictable, more so one such as this. Seek the general and try council with him on a place within his line. Unless ye be a man who fights with spear and horse, then ye will have to seek the Lord marshal. Either can normally be found roaming the streets in these days.`` How many knew that Lord Maubrey had escaped? She was unsure, but no need to broadcast it was there? ``Aman-ud-Din and myself will nay be going, but we will be here to help keep the lands steady.``
Ragnar Skallson- "What be the good generals name?" ::He asked with a raised brow, about to put the pipe in his mouth and take another draw from it before relizing he'd smoked out all the leaf. Bringing it down from his mouth he scowled at the pipe bowl and reached into one of the many inside pockets of the over coat and pulled out the small pouch, starting to refill the pipe with crumbled leaf before closing the pouch and putting it away. Instead of lighting it again by twigs, he simply held the pipe in the fire for a not even half a second before pulling it out.:: "Good with a horse too...just not as good. Grew up in the sheild wall and ambushin people."
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din had done enough fighting in his days in Pern. He had been the Sultan's personal and most trusted body guard. Now older, Aman-ud-Din was not so eager to seem battle out, but that was not to say the Arab had lost skill in the ways of the sword and arts of war. The Arab simply became more peaceful. But his place was here, not out on the battle field, that if the Duchess or Duke asked of him out on the field, he would surely go where he was most needed. Once you had been on the back of a camel, a horse was easy to ride and control.
Aislin Creed- Seeing that Aman was not speaking much now, Aislin took up the conversation. ``Sir Eamonn. He be about now and again. Ye can not miss him. He wears a helmet with a blond tail about the back of it. It is nay a style that ye will see here save with him and his men. If ye nay be so good with a horse, perhaps the general ye will seek then. Maahes is his name. Ye can nay miss him either, for his skin be darker then most about here.`` Looking to Aman, she passed the end of the hookah back. ``Darker then ye aye?`` Since Maahes was African and Aman was arab, there was a great deal of difference in their skin and tone. Eyes glanced about the tattoos that could be seen before looking to his eyes. ``Before ye go to see the duke and duchess, we should stop by ye shop so ah can get more supplies.``
Ragnar Skallson- ::He nodded to her, eyes going shut as he leaned back agianst the stone harth, letting his head rest upon it as he took in a very long and deep pull of the pipe while making mental notes. Darker than Aman-ud-Din...he'd be hard pressed to miss that on this island for sure so he thought. Pulling the pipe away from his mouth he opened his mouth to exhail, pushing out a billowing smoke cloud with it as he remained silent in thought for a bit.:: "If you ever are hav'n a need ferr a good weapon er armer, come'n find meh. You'll find none better in the Isle than what by me hand. Course it'll be a week er so..I custem make em."
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din was not speaking much for a reason: he had little more to say about war at this poing. Aislin had always taken up the conversation, she spurred it in the first place. The Arab was just as content to sit and listen and let those that felt the need to speak of war speak. Taking the hose back from Aislin, his other hand picked up the cup and he took another sip of his tea, and before he could draw another smoke from the hookah, Aislin made a reference to tone of skin, to which he smirked a bit and nodded his head slightly. ``Indeed, my friend. There are only three darker than I upon this isle. His search should not be too labour intensive.`` He replied, and placed the metal tip between his lips again. Go by his shop? A dark, thick brow arched, but he nodded all the same. ``My shop is at your disgression, my friend.`` He replied, and with an exhale, grey clouds streamed from his nostrils. ``Had I custom to wear much armour, my friend Ragnar, I would without a doubt enlist your skills. Though, you will find my choice of weapons quite strange to this isle. Only the skill of the Arabs from my home know the make of my swords.`` He replied, which was a fact. Because he used not a straight sword, Ragnar might find it difficult to make correctly. Each sword was different, never the same.
Aislin Creed- Aislin could always use more blades and tools, but at the moment, she had what she thought she needed. of course, she could point people in his direction. ``Ah'll be making sure to point people in ye direction should they ask.`` Indeed the pipe did seem to make people more relaxed, for Aislin was already feeling quite in comfort. Maybe that was due to the slow conversation. There was no tempers, no excitement about war, so it was easy to simply be there. ``Ah be head healer at the infirmary, hopefully ye will nay be needing my skills. Aman-ud-Din has a spice shop and is the advisor of the duke and duchess.`` She spoke low, not yelling such about, but a male of dark hair, dirty face and a wide build heard her never the less.
Local Man- Turning his head he looked to the Arab and the two more natives of the lands before he scoffed. The two who were seated with him looked to their friend, waiting for what he may do after the scoff. Raising from his seat, making the chair creak backwards, he held his whiskey in his hand firmly and turned around. `` Ock, that be why we be at war every few months. The clans be fighting clans, and people be escaping the dungeons. the Duke and Duchess be taking advice from a man of blood not from' ere.`` One of his friends rose and placed an arm on his shoulder, trying to tell him to let it go but he shrugged it off. ``No! Ah be tired of the wars, tired of those who don't belong here with power to make choices and whisper in the ears of our supposed rulers.``
Ragnar Skallson- "Only to true my friend." ::He said with a nod towards the arab, a slight smile on his face as he held the pipe up in a sort of 'cheers' like fashion as it where.:: "Their be many a weapon I don't know 'ow to make...but I'd love to learn...Blacksmithing be my passion in life, eh?" ::His smile grew as he placed the pipe neck between his teeth, about to draw from it before this stranger to the conversation spoke up, rather rudely. Eyes of emerald green slowly rose up to look upon the man, narrowing slowly as teeth clenched and a faint snapping sound was heard, followed by him letting a broken end of the pipe fall from between his lips. Oh yes, he had a temper.:: "I'm sorry you feel that way, though I don't remember ya bein invited in tha conversation, so why don't ya take yer seat?"
Aman-ud-Din- And had he a need for other tools and metal works to be made and crafted, he now knew a face to turn to. Or, should a customer ask for swords, he knew the man to help them. Perhaps they would have a better understanding of the straight sword tha he himself did. As Aislin made mention of both of their occupations, Aman-ud-Din nodded and bowed his bearded chin. ``Spices, herbs, and other things of the Eastern World. Perhaps one day you should stop by. My shop now has the attention of the Lady Healer here.`` He said with a smirk, before the sound of another caught his ear and made that smile die. It would not be the first time the Arab was held under fire, for ever since the crusades years and years ago, the European world still had bitter distaste for Arabs, or as they were better known as "infidels". Inwardly, he sighed, as brown eyes regarded the man. Aman-ud-Din was more than contented to ignore the man, but it seemed he did not have to say a word, for his new friend Ragnar was more than willing to interject for him. Aman-ud-Din tried not smile. ``They are just words, my friend. It is not the first of such things I have heard, and by far, are kinder than some tongues..`` Aman-ud-Din did not want to see another pointless fight, but, if push came to shove, would the Arab turn the other cheek? ``Thank you..my friend. God has kept your eyes clear.`` He replied softly, making sure that the boisterous man at the table would not hear the subtle insult.
Aislin Creed- The words of the stranger was not something she had not heard before. Many people disliked those who were not from here, for it did not matter how long one was here, they were different. Aislin had been called a witch back in Inverness, where she first met Aman as it were. She simply ignored the male, for there was no need to waste time looking to him when his insults could be lured on with the drink in his hand. Aislin said nothing, though looked to Ragnar when he did and then Aman at his response. Nicely handled.
Local Man- The male, did not seem too phased by the larger male's words. The drink was indeed egging on his tired approach to what was going on in the lands. Looking to the male who spoke first, he quickly took a drink of his mug, before pulling it down from his dark beard. ``The conversation is to be heard by all who sit within this tavern. Free to speak as one will. Is that not what the Duke and Duchess tell the people? What do we go to war for any way? Maubrey has not done anything wrong to use as the people. His problem seems fit with the Duke and Duchess family, why involve us in it. Selfish.`` He growled as he turned his head to snap quickly towards the Arab. ``What say you?`` Moving from his place, he stormed over towards the Arab, having seen his mouth move, but words were harder to hear. His two friends got up quickly, moving to try and get to the male first as he walked right towards the Arab as he sat on the ground. `` Come, speak it again. I am closer now to hear you.``
Ragnar Skallson- ::Ragnar simply held up a gloved hand when Aman spoke to him, not rudely, but simply to try and tell him it was ok. As the man grew closer, Ragnar stood, an imposing six and a half foot fraim. Taking off the supple leather gloves wore, he let them fall to the ground in front of him before unclasping his sword belt and shrugging his coat off which hit the floor with a very loud clank and rattling, like he had been hiding a mess of chains in it.:: "Aye, that it be. It be no reason for rudeness though." ::He said with a slight snarl in his voice as he stepped across the arabic water pipe, standing no more than a foot away from the man.:: "But who are you to question who the Duke and his wife to seek council with, eh?" ::He glared down into the mans glazed over eyes.:: "I'm not askin yea, I'm tellin. Take. Yer seat. Boy."
Aman-ud-Din- It would seem that when he came, his presence helped to alleviate some of the tension and hostile words of the people that Aislin face, for in their eyes, he was the more apparent target than she. However, the term 'witch' came when there was a misunderstanding or lack of understanding in medical practices. Such was not the case now. Aman-ud-Din glanced back over to the man as obviously he was 'poisoned' as Anulia called it, and because of it, came storming over. Arching a brow, though expecting it, the Arab pulled the tip from between his lips and stared up at the man. However, Ragnar seemed to have it under control himself. Oh dear God. ``I simply said, sir, that my friend here has very good vision, among other things. Surely it is no need to be upset about. Come, let us all drink and relish in what peace we have before an impending war grips all who dwell within Skye.`` He said, hoping that maybe the man would calm down and Ragnar would not have to lose his temper on the obvious drunk, who he would assume would not fair well against the tall Norweign Scotsman.
Aislin Creed- Aislin would admit that she was surprised their new friend here would rise to the defense of Aman so quickly. Most were not so eager to get into a fight that had nothing to do with it. Only then, did she stop smoking on Aman's hookah then and watched as the man came forward and their new friend moved to stand. He was tall as Maahes and Eamonn, which made him imposing to most to look at.
Local Man- The tall male standing made no difference to him. He was bulky, as well as any other male. When the Arab replied and asked for peace, his friend was thinking other means by moving forward, shedding a few bits of armor and gear from himself. ``I am one who must live with it and does not have their ear to my disposal as those who were not born here. Who are you to question me questioning them? I will take my seat when i be damn good and ready.`` Looking towards the arab, he snarled at him and his words. ``You, who are not even from here have people who will defend you so you don't fight your own battles. Weakness!`` The man's friends grabbed him about the arms, pulling him back from the people. In the foreground, Rose moved from the back kitchen area and scolded at everyone there by the scene.
Rose- ``You want to fight, you will take it outside! Not in my tavern.``
Local Man- ``I'll not waste my time on fools!`` He spat in their general direction as his friends took hold and pulled him away, trying to get him outside.
Ragnar Skallson- ::Eyes went wide and one hand for the mans throat, his right balled up into a fist the size of the mans jaw hauled back over his shoulder as he bellowed.:: Hvem er jeg? Ragnar Skallson , Arving av Magnetisk Ragnarson , gangbarheten!"::Teeth where bared and eyes full of rage as he spat out the nordic words bfore Rose spoke, drawing his attention from the drunkered. Snarling, he lowered both hands from the man, rather upset that he didn't have the chance to leave the man in a battered mess in an ally some where. Instead he took the liberty of sending a wad of spit sailing towards the man as he was dragged away, hands clenched so tight bulging knuckes where white, the vains in his neck throbbing wildly, heart racing as he stood their watching the man leave, fighting every urge not to shouder rush the man.::
Aman-ud-Din- So it would seem that peace and sensibility was not in this man's head. Aman-ud-Din did have their interest at heart. He heard of Maubrey and the lies that he fed some of the people. Now, though known only to the royalty and those closest. When Ragnar grabbed the other man quickly, Aman-ud-Din inwardly sighed and stood up quickly, leaving Aislin to enjoy the hookah. Rose stepped in and spoke, to which he was glad to hear. No fighting, not now. Ragnar seemed to have some sense of control for he let the man go and both men watched as the drunkard was dragged away by his friends. Aman-ud-Din shook his head. Some people would never accept other cultures, it was a fact that he was dealing with ever since he came to Europe. Brown eyes turned to the Viking Scot, and Aman-ud-Din placed a hand upon his broad shoulder. ``Assalaam Alaikum, my friend. Let your temper rest. I thank you for having the courage to stand up for me. Such is not often a common trait among new friends. Save your rage and strength for the enemies of Skye and on the battle field, where it will surely be needed.`` He said, trying to calm him down so the large man did not go charging after the drunkard. It wasn't worth it.
Aislin Creed- A tussle could have been what the man was looking for, or like most people, wanting to speak his mind no matter how rude it may have seemed. Rose words were heard and his friends helped him move out with his whisky still in hand. He normally quiet and did not really take up defending himself. Aislin really had not either, so who was she to judge?``Aye, that be nice of ye, nay many stand up for Aman-ud-Din. He normally be trying to stand up for others. Quite the switch. If only most of the people here knew that Aman gives good advice, they may nay be so quick to blame the first people they see. Have ye ever met the Duke and Duchess?``
Ragnar Skallson- ::He shook his head, eyes turned to the floor for a moment, closed to the world as he tried to calm himself. After a moment or two he nodded and brought his head up.:: "Yea seam like a decent sort, I've tookin a bit o' liken to ya me self..don't have many friends." ::He shrugged lightly and turned around to him and smiled softly.:: "That among other things." ::He chuckled softly taking his seat back by the fire with little fus. Once sitting down he pulled from the boot he wore a dirk, it's handle of deer antler, the blade gently scratching against the thick hide pants he wore before he brought the pipe up and started to cut away the broken bit to make it smooth again, shirt of grey wool under the jirken was roled up slightly to keep the sleaves out of the way.:: "ah, I've never met either of em...still, no need for rudeness like that. Time an a place fer every thin' then wasn't one o' em."
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din tried to be helpful, but some people did not see one's deeds or even bother to look past a person's profile before they got angry and upset over nothing which led to false accusations. It was kind of the man to stand up for the Arab, few did, and even Aislin knew that. He did not have many friends? Aman-ud-Din smirked a bit at that. Perhaps his temper attributed to the difficulty in making friends, much like the Lord Marshal, who also had a temper. Whatever the reason, Ragnar seemed to be a man of stout heart and with good intentions. Who was he to judge? ``Indeed my friend.`` And sitting down, he finished his cup of tea. The coal in his hookah had gone cold now, for it only lasted so long before it needed to be reheated. Picking it up, he dismantled it and excused himself to head to the bar to retire it, before apologising to Rose for an almost fight. Returning back to his friends, Aman-ud-Din picked up the fur cloak and pulled it over his shoulders. ``I fear I must return home soon before it becomes too cold with the night. I could certainly use a cup of coffee before I take my leave for slumber.`` He mused softly, before glancing down to Aislin. ``I shall be outside waiting for you.`` Aman-ud-Din said, before turning to Ragnar. ``Thank you again, my friend. It was a pleasure to meet you..I do hope we meet again soon. I hope that you can count me among your friends, for it seems we both have selected few.`` The Arab said, before bowing to the man and pulling the end of his kufiyya across his face and pulled the brow forward like a visor for a narrow, loose flapping slit of vision, it kept the cold from his face. With that done, he held the thick fur cloak about his body and moved for the door and outside, waiting for Aislin to finish her mead and join him so they could walk together to his shop for her supplies.
Aislin Creed- The season was nothing new to Aislin for she had lived in the Highlands for all of her life, or at least the time she could remember to. It was extremely better to not be heavy with child this passing winter though, for the weight was all her own now. Children were left with their nannys, which for once was not Aman-ud-Din since she was with him, while her husband prepared for war and all the glory that men wanted when killing for the land, freedom, rights to have a say or some other such they believed. Why much of the city was humming about with talk of war, Aislin knew perhaps as much as the Duchess and Duke themselves, thanks to being in the room when such was spoken of. This time, she would not be going, but already healers had been prepared to be sent off to battle, so they could tend to those who were wounded. The cloak of maroon had long since been shed and moved under her rear as she sat with her knees bent and legs spread slightly. No dress tonight, only male breeches, tunic and a vest to keep her warm. Aislin held a form that was once more boyish and had it not been for her striking female features, or long hair that was braided behind her back, one might assume otherwise. Her husband had once during battle, not even seeing her as a hat covered her face. At the moment, her interest was in the device that Aman-ud-Din was currently giving a great deal of his attention to. The smell always interested her. Yolk? ``Ye and yer words of new.`` Reaching for the end, she questioned him on how to do it before pulling it to her mouth, wrapping her wide lips about it and sucking the smoke from within the contraption. Unprepared for it, she inhaled through her nose and parted her lips slightly, trying to inhale it. The feeling of it tingled down her throat, making her cough softly at first. Small puffs of smoke moved from her mouth as the cough got worse. Her head turned to the side while her body reacted, trying to clear the tingle from it making her flesh tint slightly of red.
Ragnar Skallson- ::Front door of the inn was promptly opened to allow heavy boots of cured hide dyed black, though stained with travel, through and to the wooden floor. From above the figure was hid under a heavy and long overcoat also made of cured hide of brown, studded with brass facits. Supple leather gloves over large hands hung beside a broad sword of Nordic craftsmen ship, held tight in a scabbered of wood wrapped leather which hung from a broad belt. On closed overcoat rested a long beard of dirty blond, mustache braided as was the hair resting down over his shoulder, though let loose down his back, stopping just below his shoulder blades. Emerald green orbs set within his skull looked about quickly before heading to a table close to the fire. Letting a strong hand grip the back of a chair he gave it a drag across the tavern floor before sitting his large fraim down upon it, kicking long legs up and letting boot heels rest on the table ledge, one foot crossing over the other as a hand dove inside the overcoat to pull a small pouch, a bundle of twigs and a pipe out, which he started to fill with crumbled leaf from the pouch.::
Aman-ud-Din- The number of times that he had been in service of designated 'nanny' was beyond count, but Aman-ud-Din did not mind in the slightest. He enjoyed children, silently wishing for his own one day-though such a fate seemed beyond him at this point in time. Had Aislin ever smoked a pipe before? Aman-ud-Din was about to find out as he passed the end of the hose to Aislin and explained the mechanics of the strange water-based pipe of the Middle East. When she took it in her hands, the Arab sat back, leaning against the couch behind him as she inhaled, but then began to choke on the smoke. Aman-ud-Din smirked and could not hide the rich, husky laugh that fell from his lips as he watched poor Aislin cough and choke. A large hand reached out and patted her back lightly. ``It looks like you will need to get use to this.`` He mused softly. ``Slow breaths, my friend, do not inhale it all at once.`` And once his hand fell from her back, still chuckling softly, he smiled, watching Aislin, that is until his eyes lifted and turned to the sound of the door opening. Silently, the Arab watched as the strangely dressed man entered. But then again, Aman-ud-Din remembered that himself was a strangely dressed man here in Skye. The man pulled out his own pipe, smaller, and certainly more portable than his hookah, but, the Arab was set in his ways
Aislin Creed- Aislin was unsure if that pat on the back was really helping or not at this point. Still holding metal piece of the end of that long rope like extension, she looked to Aman-ud-Din, not really inspired by his words, but when did that stop her? Eyes were slightly blood shot and irritated with her hacking to try and get that tingle out. Her body took a few more seconds to adjust and ease down, though small coughs lingered now and then as her normally firm voice took on a bit of a husky under tone when she spoke. ``Aye..so ah be feeling.`` Oceanic eyes drifted to the tall and large male that came in and sat at the table closest to them. The man's dress, his hair and appearance, all stated two possible cultures he could come from, both of which Aislin had flowing in her own viens. ``Evening. `` She greeted the unknown male, very out of character for Aislin who never really spoke to strangers. Tonight was a night of trying new things, more so with her husband not about. Looking back to the pipe's end, she pulled it to her mouth and this time inhaled more slowly, letting the smoke come into her body like a soft breath. Only a bit, until she could adjust. Already she was feeling warm, but was that the only purpose? ``What be the purpose of this? What do it be doing for ye folk?`` It seemed Aislin did not get the concept of puff puff pass, for she hit that Hookah one more time, the finally passed it to Aman.
Ragnar Skallson- ::A brow was raised as he placed the small pouch back into the depths of his overcoat, leaving a pipe full of leaf in one large hand. Slowly his bearded face came to turn and alow eyes to rest upon her before he nodded to the woman softly.:: "Even'n." ::He repeated back, his accent a mix of Highland Scot and Norwegian, which sounded a bit strange. Pulling his feet up and off the table, they landed on the wooden floot with a heavy clomping noise before he pushed upon his knee to stand, pipe and twig in hand. Traversing across the way to the bar, he placed on order of mead from the tender before making his way back over to the two of them.:: "Scuse meh." ::He said softly to the two of them, brushing past them closely while transferring the small bundle of twigs held together with a bit of some hard and sticky gunk to his free hand and letting the end of an out reaching flame lick it, setting the end alight. Taking it back over the two of them he placed the fire soaked end and placed it into the pipe bowl, setting the leaf ablaze before flicking the twigs into the fire and placing the pipe into his mouth, drawing slowly upon it as the embers in the bowl flaired softly. Making his way back to the bar he grabbed his now prepared drink and took a seat where he had clamed his first one, much in the same manor. Taking the pipe from his mouth with a free hand, a flagon of mead in the other, he let his lips slowly part in the form of an O while exhaling, causing a ring of smoke to billow forth.::
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din was trying so hard not to laugh so openly at Aislin, for she was trying, but it was a rather comical thing to see. Anyone that smoked for the first time experienced such, they had all being in the same position as Aislin had been in. Chuckling still, his eyes did shift back to the rather tall man, and as Aislin greeted, Aman-ud-Din smiled politely. ``Ahlan wa sahlan, friend.`` The Arab greeted, his accent thick and richly coated with the dialect of his people. Turning back to Aislin, who was getting use to smoking the hookah now, he chuckled at the rather 'greedy' puffs she took before passing it back to him. ``Smoking is a social concept, my dear friend. It is tradition to sit and smoke among friends, it proves to be a very relaxing comfort. It stimulates socialization, that is what it does for my folk.`` Aman-ud-Din replied, before placing the metal tip back between his lips and drawing breaths from it as brown eyes lifted to watch the rather tall man move about. After two draws, Aman-ud-Din passed the tip back to Aislin, letting the smoke billow from his nostrils. ``Come, my friend, join us. Sit by the fire and be warmed, for the air outside is cold.`` Bedouin hospitality...it did not just apply to his homestead, but it was a lifestyle, one that he knew well.
Aislin Creed- Aislin was always back and forth when it came to strangers. Some times she was curious, other times she did not even glance their way. It all depended on the night and mood. Hearing the greeting back, she felt a bit of the vibration of his feet stomping to the ground. Eyes watched and her neck turned to see where he was off to before looking back to the hookah's end and then leaning to the side to allow him way to get near the flame. When Aman spoke, her attention and eyes shifted towards him as he explained. Social? How could one be social when they were coughing? Strange. Well, the unknown male might look like a barbarian, but he did not act savage at least with his short words that held some manners. Not that Aislin would care, for she was around men without manners often. Her husband was considered rude and unfiltered at times. Taking the Hookah end, she puffed on it gently, still coughing now and then as she continued to be use to it. ``Where ye be from then?`` There were men who looked like this one in dress that passed by often, but few stayed. Mercenaries mostly looking for short term work or an area to trade.
Ragnar Skallson- ::He looked between the two of them, then with a gentle shrug of his broad shoulders he nodded. Couldn't hurt, could it? The heavy thump of his feet coming back down upon the floor was a herald to him standing, pushing in the chair behind him after putting the pipe in his mouth for a moment to allow him the free hand. Taking the few steps over to the two of them in front of the hearth, he slowly sat down beside the two of them, his back resting against one side of the hearth and his legs crossed in front of him, his hand pushing down upon the heavy pommel of the weapon to allow him to sit comfortably. Placing the Flagon of mead upon the floor he unbuttoned the heavy coat, underneath a cured leather jerkin of deep brown. Taking up the flagon in hand and lifting it to his mouth he took a large drink from it before placing it down once again at his side and taking a long draw from the pipe, letting smoke creep from his nostrils slowly as not to blow it at either of them, as that would be rather rude. Taking the pipe by the bowl, cupped in index finger and thumb above his fist he finaly spoke.:: "Thank ye both for yea hospitalate. I'm from the North a Scotland, north cost, t'was where I be born least."
Aman-ud-Din- While Aman-ud-Din was more known for his services of many, many years to the Sultan of Pern, he did not forget where it was he had been born from. A bedouin tribe in the desert, once a simple camel herder who saved the Sultan's life years before the man had been crowned, and he would forever be such at heart. Only Aislin seemed to be coughing and choking on the smoke, for he was doing just fine. Still, the people of the East would be strange to those of the West, and those of the West would be strange to those of the East. Her coughing began to die down the more she grew accustomed to the hookah, and when she passed it back to the Arab, he placed it between his lips to take another puff. Deep, brown eyes watched the tall man join them by the hearth and on the floor, lowering his frame until he too was sitting with his own pipe. To blow smoke upon another was considered rude--unless it was asked for you could taste the tobacco that way. However, the man here was polite. Listening to the man's response, Aman-ud-Din nodded. ``Skye has citizens from across the span of the world, it seems. From the North..the South...and the East. It would seem that Aislin, here, is the only native among us to this place. I, like you, my friend, am a son of foreign soil...though from the East.`` The Arab spoke. By dress, voice, and the markings upon his cheeks, forehead--which was hidden under the kufiyya he wore, and the back of his hands, it was evidence he was not a native among the Scots. ``I am Aman-ud-Din. Welcome to Skye.``
Aislin Creed- Many who passed through here either stayed or moved on. It was nothing new and while most were unheard of -mostly from them moving out just as fast as they came- some were becoming known faces. Aislin herself, was not native to Skye, but was birthed in Sevenwaters and grew up in the Highlands of Scotland. No one cared to know she was from Sevenwaters like her husband, so when Aman spoke of her being native, she did not correct him. The accent from the other male was one she heard often in her own mother's voice, while her father's mingled with a Scottish twang, causing her own to mingle as well. ``Ah be Aislin.`` There was no need to stress her title here, for she was in a tavern, had been born lower class blood (or so she thought) and was only a noble by some chance of fate now.``What be bringing ye here to Skye? Ye be passing through or looking for a new place to call ye own? There be war about to happen here, many will be looking for a hand if ye be interested.`` Straight and to the point. Those within the tavern spoke to themselves or others at their table, leaving those by the fire to enjoy it. Rose was moving about, bringing Aislin a mug of mead. Just one, for Aislin got a bit mouthy with more.
Ragnar Skallson- "I live 'ere. Have since I came back from Norway....that'a been six winters 'go." ::He said with a nod and yet another swig of mead from the flagon, placing it beside him once more for another pull on the pipe, eyes of emerald closeing as he sighed it out.:: "Got a smithy up by me home ma father left meh when he decided ta stay in Norway, got a few contracts an workers under me belt, makin weapons an what not fer some o' the clans and people over seas." ::He let eyes fall open as he looked to the two of them, eyes bouncing from man to woman and then to the pipe again, putting his thumb under the neck as he relized he was starting to burn the glove.:: "Me names Ragnar Scallson...and Aye, I be interested."
Aman-ud-Din- Aislin, among the two here, was perhaps the most native than the two here. She lived in Scotland for many years, or so he thought, while he grew up in the Sands of the East. Aislin asked for mead, something that Aman-ud-Din would not drink himself. It was against his religion and culture to do so. When Rose came by, it was the typical request of hot water for he had his own herbs to add to it. While Aislin and the stranger talked, the tip still was pressed between lips, and while one hand reached for the pouch under the fur cloak, he was listening intently to the man's words and Aislin questions. It was hard for him to imagine Aislin mouthy...she already was! Pulling out the thing bag of anise seeds, he waited until Rose brought him the hot cup, and he thanked her in the tongue of his people, before setting the cup on the floor and setting the 'tea-bag' within the hot watter. ``My dear Aislin, you would make a fine military recruit messenger.`` He teased, chuckling, and as he did, clouds of smoke billowed from his parted lips. The tip was passed back to Aislin, and his eyes turned to the man that now introduced himself as Ragnar Scallson. That was a name he would need to repeat several times before he could pronounce it clearly. ``Well, Ragnar, it would seem you already are doing well for yourself. Smithing is a job in great demand. I am sure your profit will be great.`` The Arab commented, before eyes lowered to his cup, waiting for it to steep and the seeds to simmer in the hot water.
Aislin Creed- It was not uncommon for someone to have lived here longer then Aislin and her not see them, soe she believed him right off and gave a nod. She pondered for a moment if he was in the clan war that had passed, but it did not linger. A hand reached out for the end of the Hookah, taking it to her mouth and inhaling a bit more then she had been as her body was now use to it. Eyes shifted to Aman when he said she would make a fine recruiter. As if men would listen to her? Most think she is a boy when she dresses male, not a man. If it was not one thing, it was another. Looking back to Rangar, she gave a nod as smoke was blown in the opposite direction. ``Ye will find good buisness here. More so if ye be doing horse shoes as well as armory. The calvary be growing and horse masters are moving up in Turas lan as well as Eohmark. Will ye be going to war Rangar or nay, be staying about the lands to find profit?`` Some of the clans were going to war, why could the people not do the same?
Ragnar Skallson- "Bah, horse shoes I do, but I dun like it...boring work." ::He gave a slight wave of his hand before picking up the flagon and draining it of it's content with a content sigh.:: "Aye, I be goin' ta wor. I got enough money to set me self streight fer the rest o' me days if I spends it right, and 'nough people to work during the war to make me a bloody fortune during the war, the lack of one hand at the hamma wouldn't 'urt me pocket at all, me doing privet works and all mostly...don't make a master piece of a blade and go puttin it in'a crate and sendin it off. Sell that in person..." ::He nodded though, turning his eyes to look at the blazing fire as he pulled another draw from the pipe, pushing out a ring of smoke into the fire.:: "Aye..I'll be fighting, I'll not be getting into Valhalla with a fat pocket on it's own." ::That said, he turned to look at Aislin.:: "Who be lookin for a strong sword arm you know of?"
Aman-ud-Din- Aislin had more charm and allurement than she gave herself credit for. To him, Aislin did not look like a young boy, especially after giving birth to two children. Motherhood had filled her out a bit more these days, but to that the said nothing. Leaving the two of them to speak of war, which Aman-ud-Din had heard enough about for a day and did not particular want to dwell on such a gloomy topic now, the tip of the hose was moved from his lips and as smoke left in a grey cloud, his free hand reached from the cup of anise tea, perhaps now ready. Lifting the cup up, he glanced at the gold-tinted water, and inhaled the scent, and judging it ready to be consumed, he pressed the rim to his lips and took a sip of the tea. Delicious as always. After a second tentative sip, the cup was placed back down on the floor and leaning back more into the couch he sat in front of, the Arab placed the hose tip between his lips once more and continued to puff on the unique tobacco.
Aislin Creed- Some time back, Aislin may have wanted to sneak off to war. In fact she had, but the result had been two reason and there was no need to try again. She found out what war meant and it was not for her. At that moment, she was glad her husband was not about, for he might have snarled at the male for saying anything remotely close to horses was boring. Every one had an opinion. ``Ah do nay know who be looking for a strong arm, but ah know some of the clans be for or against it. War be always unpredictable, more so one such as this. Seek the general and try council with him on a place within his line. Unless ye be a man who fights with spear and horse, then ye will have to seek the Lord marshal. Either can normally be found roaming the streets in these days.`` How many knew that Lord Maubrey had escaped? She was unsure, but no need to broadcast it was there? ``Aman-ud-Din and myself will nay be going, but we will be here to help keep the lands steady.``
Ragnar Skallson- "What be the good generals name?" ::He asked with a raised brow, about to put the pipe in his mouth and take another draw from it before relizing he'd smoked out all the leaf. Bringing it down from his mouth he scowled at the pipe bowl and reached into one of the many inside pockets of the over coat and pulled out the small pouch, starting to refill the pipe with crumbled leaf before closing the pouch and putting it away. Instead of lighting it again by twigs, he simply held the pipe in the fire for a not even half a second before pulling it out.:: "Good with a horse too...just not as good. Grew up in the sheild wall and ambushin people."
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din had done enough fighting in his days in Pern. He had been the Sultan's personal and most trusted body guard. Now older, Aman-ud-Din was not so eager to seem battle out, but that was not to say the Arab had lost skill in the ways of the sword and arts of war. The Arab simply became more peaceful. But his place was here, not out on the battle field, that if the Duchess or Duke asked of him out on the field, he would surely go where he was most needed. Once you had been on the back of a camel, a horse was easy to ride and control.
Aislin Creed- Seeing that Aman was not speaking much now, Aislin took up the conversation. ``Sir Eamonn. He be about now and again. Ye can not miss him. He wears a helmet with a blond tail about the back of it. It is nay a style that ye will see here save with him and his men. If ye nay be so good with a horse, perhaps the general ye will seek then. Maahes is his name. Ye can nay miss him either, for his skin be darker then most about here.`` Looking to Aman, she passed the end of the hookah back. ``Darker then ye aye?`` Since Maahes was African and Aman was arab, there was a great deal of difference in their skin and tone. Eyes glanced about the tattoos that could be seen before looking to his eyes. ``Before ye go to see the duke and duchess, we should stop by ye shop so ah can get more supplies.``
Ragnar Skallson- ::He nodded to her, eyes going shut as he leaned back agianst the stone harth, letting his head rest upon it as he took in a very long and deep pull of the pipe while making mental notes. Darker than Aman-ud-Din...he'd be hard pressed to miss that on this island for sure so he thought. Pulling the pipe away from his mouth he opened his mouth to exhail, pushing out a billowing smoke cloud with it as he remained silent in thought for a bit.:: "If you ever are hav'n a need ferr a good weapon er armer, come'n find meh. You'll find none better in the Isle than what by me hand. Course it'll be a week er so..I custem make em."
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din was not speaking much for a reason: he had little more to say about war at this poing. Aislin had always taken up the conversation, she spurred it in the first place. The Arab was just as content to sit and listen and let those that felt the need to speak of war speak. Taking the hose back from Aislin, his other hand picked up the cup and he took another sip of his tea, and before he could draw another smoke from the hookah, Aislin made a reference to tone of skin, to which he smirked a bit and nodded his head slightly. ``Indeed, my friend. There are only three darker than I upon this isle. His search should not be too labour intensive.`` He replied, and placed the metal tip between his lips again. Go by his shop? A dark, thick brow arched, but he nodded all the same. ``My shop is at your disgression, my friend.`` He replied, and with an exhale, grey clouds streamed from his nostrils. ``Had I custom to wear much armour, my friend Ragnar, I would without a doubt enlist your skills. Though, you will find my choice of weapons quite strange to this isle. Only the skill of the Arabs from my home know the make of my swords.`` He replied, which was a fact. Because he used not a straight sword, Ragnar might find it difficult to make correctly. Each sword was different, never the same.
Aislin Creed- Aislin could always use more blades and tools, but at the moment, she had what she thought she needed. of course, she could point people in his direction. ``Ah'll be making sure to point people in ye direction should they ask.`` Indeed the pipe did seem to make people more relaxed, for Aislin was already feeling quite in comfort. Maybe that was due to the slow conversation. There was no tempers, no excitement about war, so it was easy to simply be there. ``Ah be head healer at the infirmary, hopefully ye will nay be needing my skills. Aman-ud-Din has a spice shop and is the advisor of the duke and duchess.`` She spoke low, not yelling such about, but a male of dark hair, dirty face and a wide build heard her never the less.
Local Man- Turning his head he looked to the Arab and the two more natives of the lands before he scoffed. The two who were seated with him looked to their friend, waiting for what he may do after the scoff. Raising from his seat, making the chair creak backwards, he held his whiskey in his hand firmly and turned around. `` Ock, that be why we be at war every few months. The clans be fighting clans, and people be escaping the dungeons. the Duke and Duchess be taking advice from a man of blood not from' ere.`` One of his friends rose and placed an arm on his shoulder, trying to tell him to let it go but he shrugged it off. ``No! Ah be tired of the wars, tired of those who don't belong here with power to make choices and whisper in the ears of our supposed rulers.``
Ragnar Skallson- "Only to true my friend." ::He said with a nod towards the arab, a slight smile on his face as he held the pipe up in a sort of 'cheers' like fashion as it where.:: "Their be many a weapon I don't know 'ow to make...but I'd love to learn...Blacksmithing be my passion in life, eh?" ::His smile grew as he placed the pipe neck between his teeth, about to draw from it before this stranger to the conversation spoke up, rather rudely. Eyes of emerald green slowly rose up to look upon the man, narrowing slowly as teeth clenched and a faint snapping sound was heard, followed by him letting a broken end of the pipe fall from between his lips. Oh yes, he had a temper.:: "I'm sorry you feel that way, though I don't remember ya bein invited in tha conversation, so why don't ya take yer seat?"
Aman-ud-Din- And had he a need for other tools and metal works to be made and crafted, he now knew a face to turn to. Or, should a customer ask for swords, he knew the man to help them. Perhaps they would have a better understanding of the straight sword tha he himself did. As Aislin made mention of both of their occupations, Aman-ud-Din nodded and bowed his bearded chin. ``Spices, herbs, and other things of the Eastern World. Perhaps one day you should stop by. My shop now has the attention of the Lady Healer here.`` He said with a smirk, before the sound of another caught his ear and made that smile die. It would not be the first time the Arab was held under fire, for ever since the crusades years and years ago, the European world still had bitter distaste for Arabs, or as they were better known as "infidels". Inwardly, he sighed, as brown eyes regarded the man. Aman-ud-Din was more than contented to ignore the man, but it seemed he did not have to say a word, for his new friend Ragnar was more than willing to interject for him. Aman-ud-Din tried not smile. ``They are just words, my friend. It is not the first of such things I have heard, and by far, are kinder than some tongues..`` Aman-ud-Din did not want to see another pointless fight, but, if push came to shove, would the Arab turn the other cheek? ``Thank you..my friend. God has kept your eyes clear.`` He replied softly, making sure that the boisterous man at the table would not hear the subtle insult.
Aislin Creed- The words of the stranger was not something she had not heard before. Many people disliked those who were not from here, for it did not matter how long one was here, they were different. Aislin had been called a witch back in Inverness, where she first met Aman as it were. She simply ignored the male, for there was no need to waste time looking to him when his insults could be lured on with the drink in his hand. Aislin said nothing, though looked to Ragnar when he did and then Aman at his response. Nicely handled.
Local Man- The male, did not seem too phased by the larger male's words. The drink was indeed egging on his tired approach to what was going on in the lands. Looking to the male who spoke first, he quickly took a drink of his mug, before pulling it down from his dark beard. ``The conversation is to be heard by all who sit within this tavern. Free to speak as one will. Is that not what the Duke and Duchess tell the people? What do we go to war for any way? Maubrey has not done anything wrong to use as the people. His problem seems fit with the Duke and Duchess family, why involve us in it. Selfish.`` He growled as he turned his head to snap quickly towards the Arab. ``What say you?`` Moving from his place, he stormed over towards the Arab, having seen his mouth move, but words were harder to hear. His two friends got up quickly, moving to try and get to the male first as he walked right towards the Arab as he sat on the ground. `` Come, speak it again. I am closer now to hear you.``
Ragnar Skallson- ::Ragnar simply held up a gloved hand when Aman spoke to him, not rudely, but simply to try and tell him it was ok. As the man grew closer, Ragnar stood, an imposing six and a half foot fraim. Taking off the supple leather gloves wore, he let them fall to the ground in front of him before unclasping his sword belt and shrugging his coat off which hit the floor with a very loud clank and rattling, like he had been hiding a mess of chains in it.:: "Aye, that it be. It be no reason for rudeness though." ::He said with a slight snarl in his voice as he stepped across the arabic water pipe, standing no more than a foot away from the man.:: "But who are you to question who the Duke and his wife to seek council with, eh?" ::He glared down into the mans glazed over eyes.:: "I'm not askin yea, I'm tellin. Take. Yer seat. Boy."
Aman-ud-Din- It would seem that when he came, his presence helped to alleviate some of the tension and hostile words of the people that Aislin face, for in their eyes, he was the more apparent target than she. However, the term 'witch' came when there was a misunderstanding or lack of understanding in medical practices. Such was not the case now. Aman-ud-Din glanced back over to the man as obviously he was 'poisoned' as Anulia called it, and because of it, came storming over. Arching a brow, though expecting it, the Arab pulled the tip from between his lips and stared up at the man. However, Ragnar seemed to have it under control himself. Oh dear God. ``I simply said, sir, that my friend here has very good vision, among other things. Surely it is no need to be upset about. Come, let us all drink and relish in what peace we have before an impending war grips all who dwell within Skye.`` He said, hoping that maybe the man would calm down and Ragnar would not have to lose his temper on the obvious drunk, who he would assume would not fair well against the tall Norweign Scotsman.
Aislin Creed- Aislin would admit that she was surprised their new friend here would rise to the defense of Aman so quickly. Most were not so eager to get into a fight that had nothing to do with it. Only then, did she stop smoking on Aman's hookah then and watched as the man came forward and their new friend moved to stand. He was tall as Maahes and Eamonn, which made him imposing to most to look at.
Local Man- The tall male standing made no difference to him. He was bulky, as well as any other male. When the Arab replied and asked for peace, his friend was thinking other means by moving forward, shedding a few bits of armor and gear from himself. ``I am one who must live with it and does not have their ear to my disposal as those who were not born here. Who are you to question me questioning them? I will take my seat when i be damn good and ready.`` Looking towards the arab, he snarled at him and his words. ``You, who are not even from here have people who will defend you so you don't fight your own battles. Weakness!`` The man's friends grabbed him about the arms, pulling him back from the people. In the foreground, Rose moved from the back kitchen area and scolded at everyone there by the scene.
Rose- ``You want to fight, you will take it outside! Not in my tavern.``
Local Man- ``I'll not waste my time on fools!`` He spat in their general direction as his friends took hold and pulled him away, trying to get him outside.
Ragnar Skallson- ::Eyes went wide and one hand for the mans throat, his right balled up into a fist the size of the mans jaw hauled back over his shoulder as he bellowed.:: Hvem er jeg? Ragnar Skallson , Arving av Magnetisk Ragnarson , gangbarheten!"::Teeth where bared and eyes full of rage as he spat out the nordic words bfore Rose spoke, drawing his attention from the drunkered. Snarling, he lowered both hands from the man, rather upset that he didn't have the chance to leave the man in a battered mess in an ally some where. Instead he took the liberty of sending a wad of spit sailing towards the man as he was dragged away, hands clenched so tight bulging knuckes where white, the vains in his neck throbbing wildly, heart racing as he stood their watching the man leave, fighting every urge not to shouder rush the man.::
Aman-ud-Din- So it would seem that peace and sensibility was not in this man's head. Aman-ud-Din did have their interest at heart. He heard of Maubrey and the lies that he fed some of the people. Now, though known only to the royalty and those closest. When Ragnar grabbed the other man quickly, Aman-ud-Din inwardly sighed and stood up quickly, leaving Aislin to enjoy the hookah. Rose stepped in and spoke, to which he was glad to hear. No fighting, not now. Ragnar seemed to have some sense of control for he let the man go and both men watched as the drunkard was dragged away by his friends. Aman-ud-Din shook his head. Some people would never accept other cultures, it was a fact that he was dealing with ever since he came to Europe. Brown eyes turned to the Viking Scot, and Aman-ud-Din placed a hand upon his broad shoulder. ``Assalaam Alaikum, my friend. Let your temper rest. I thank you for having the courage to stand up for me. Such is not often a common trait among new friends. Save your rage and strength for the enemies of Skye and on the battle field, where it will surely be needed.`` He said, trying to calm him down so the large man did not go charging after the drunkard. It wasn't worth it.
Aislin Creed- A tussle could have been what the man was looking for, or like most people, wanting to speak his mind no matter how rude it may have seemed. Rose words were heard and his friends helped him move out with his whisky still in hand. He normally quiet and did not really take up defending himself. Aislin really had not either, so who was she to judge?``Aye, that be nice of ye, nay many stand up for Aman-ud-Din. He normally be trying to stand up for others. Quite the switch. If only most of the people here knew that Aman gives good advice, they may nay be so quick to blame the first people they see. Have ye ever met the Duke and Duchess?``
Ragnar Skallson- ::He shook his head, eyes turned to the floor for a moment, closed to the world as he tried to calm himself. After a moment or two he nodded and brought his head up.:: "Yea seam like a decent sort, I've tookin a bit o' liken to ya me self..don't have many friends." ::He shrugged lightly and turned around to him and smiled softly.:: "That among other things." ::He chuckled softly taking his seat back by the fire with little fus. Once sitting down he pulled from the boot he wore a dirk, it's handle of deer antler, the blade gently scratching against the thick hide pants he wore before he brought the pipe up and started to cut away the broken bit to make it smooth again, shirt of grey wool under the jirken was roled up slightly to keep the sleaves out of the way.:: "ah, I've never met either of em...still, no need for rudeness like that. Time an a place fer every thin' then wasn't one o' em."
Aman-ud-Din- Aman-ud-Din tried to be helpful, but some people did not see one's deeds or even bother to look past a person's profile before they got angry and upset over nothing which led to false accusations. It was kind of the man to stand up for the Arab, few did, and even Aislin knew that. He did not have many friends? Aman-ud-Din smirked a bit at that. Perhaps his temper attributed to the difficulty in making friends, much like the Lord Marshal, who also had a temper. Whatever the reason, Ragnar seemed to be a man of stout heart and with good intentions. Who was he to judge? ``Indeed my friend.`` And sitting down, he finished his cup of tea. The coal in his hookah had gone cold now, for it only lasted so long before it needed to be reheated. Picking it up, he dismantled it and excused himself to head to the bar to retire it, before apologising to Rose for an almost fight. Returning back to his friends, Aman-ud-Din picked up the fur cloak and pulled it over his shoulders. ``I fear I must return home soon before it becomes too cold with the night. I could certainly use a cup of coffee before I take my leave for slumber.`` He mused softly, before glancing down to Aislin. ``I shall be outside waiting for you.`` Aman-ud-Din said, before turning to Ragnar. ``Thank you again, my friend. It was a pleasure to meet you..I do hope we meet again soon. I hope that you can count me among your friends, for it seems we both have selected few.`` The Arab said, before bowing to the man and pulling the end of his kufiyya across his face and pulled the brow forward like a visor for a narrow, loose flapping slit of vision, it kept the cold from his face. With that done, he held the thick fur cloak about his body and moved for the door and outside, waiting for Aislin to finish her mead and join him so they could walk together to his shop for her supplies.
End Thread
