Subj : Re: CITY] Move 1.1a: Of Old Men And Fish-heads
To   : All
From : dhd10@cornell.edu
Date : Tue Aug 22 2000 08:51 am

From: dhd10@cornell.edu
Subject: Re: CITY] Move 1.1a: Of Old Men And Fish-heads



> 
> 
> Alright. I'll work that out when we get there.
> 

ooc:OK

> 
> Samar: 'There is no need to be insulting, you know.  I don't know what this 
> 
> Sama ... Samar Cel-whatever epithet means, but I don't think I want to 
> 
> know. However, I'll have to assume you're refering to me, since you did just 
> 
> throw a very disgusting fish at me.  In case you've gotten me confused 
> 
> with someone else, which I sincerely hope is the case, my name is 
> 
> Telur.'

ooc replace Telur with Celin.
 
> 
> 'You know full well what tr ipe that is, trout-bait!' snaps the 
scratchy voice, just as another fish-head flies past Samar's shoulder, 
and droplets of greasy water splatter into his right cheek as he turns. 
By now, Samar can see the fish-chucker in the corner of his eye. An old 
man with scraggly hair and a busted leg stands solidly on his good one, 
another fish-head in his hand. His other hand points angrily at Samar. A 
smaller person crouches beside him, trying not to attract attention. 
Shoulder-length brown hair falls irreparably tangled, and scarred hands 
shake as they gut a fish. >  

> 
> 
> Samar: 'And who might you be, my rude friend?'
> 
> 
> The old man cackles a little, almost insanely. Samar is now turned 
fully around, and as such, easily dodges the third projectile fish. 
Taking a closer look, Samar seems to recognize the old-timer...the face 
 is scarred and worn, but he recalls the only servant at his uncle's 
h ouse. They had been on relatively good terms when he had left, despite 
th e views voiced by the rest of his family. The servant had had a 
dau ghter, but she was mentally lacking, and he had had to split his time 
betw een serving the house and tending to his daughter. Samar had, on 
occas ion when bored, looked after Miranda. Generally, it only served to 
make h im more bored, but at least he was his good deed for the day. > 
> 'I'm  not your friend, Samar, and don't think you can bear a different 
name and  not be recognized! The city guard is hot for young rascals like 
you, and  you'll soon be in prison, no doubt!' > 
> The old  man then grabs the figure beside him by a hand, dragging the 
person alon g behind as he makes his way through the people along the 
harbour. Hig h-pitched moans and other objectionary, non-speech noises 
emit from the  person, and Samar catches a short glimpes of a dirty 
feminine face. > 

Narrowing his eyes, Samar moves to follow, but then stops.  He does wave.  
He decides, however, that finding this man (ooc: what is his name?), 
which shouldn't be that difficult, will definitely become a discrete 
priority in the near future.  He decides not to do anything based on 
this warning other than to employ a bit of extra caution and finish 
cleaning off the fish grease.  After making sure he is clean, Samar 
resecures his sword, but makes sure his dagger is loose, and is very 
careful to be alert for any twinges from his bracers.  He then proceeds 
with complete confidence to the city proper, with the apparent security 
of only the very young who still beleive they are imortal.


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