Timestamp: 65th of Fall, 511 AV (Late Evening)
Location: Sanctuary’s Veranda overlooking the inner Courtyard/Horse Gate
Purpose: Meeting Letho and Ronan, Thread challenge stuff
Things weren’t going so well, truth be told. Kavala decided instantly that she should have stayed in bed as she surveyed the black pool of ink that was slowly expanding over the big oak table on the veranda. A knocked over inkwell was the culprit. Kavala, after the day she’d had, really had no reaction to it at all except to sigh. It even took her a good two minutes to rise and go get something to clean the mess up with, as unsurprised and undaunted as her already horrible day had made her.
All in all, Kavala couldn’t have had a more rotten day if she tried. Waking up, she’d discovered the wellhead for the main well in Sanctuary’s courtyard had somehow cracked and was gushing water all over. It was too big of a job for someone at the facility to handle, so they’d sent for help from the city. The first repairman who’d come had replaced the wellhead, but then proceeded to tell her all the reasons why it had cracked and how she needed a new well dug completely in a completely more ideal location.. It wasn’t something she could afford at the moment, but it had weighed heavily on her mind all day. Then, about mid morning, she’d had to go to town to pick up an order of Yvas’ at the local leatherworker there. On the way she’d almost been run down by a carriage that was ill driven by two youths and then had gotten soaked when Riverfalls’ normally wet weather had unleashed its fury all at once in an epic downpour that reminded her of the Bluevein plunging off the Cyphrus grasslands itself.
So by the time she’d managed to hit the leather shop, she was soaked, tired, and more than a little fearful for her life. It’d been almost fifty days since the encounter with glassbeaks, but in a way Kavala was still healing. There was a slight limp in her stride, which she discounted because she _was_ alive and in far better shape than she would have been if she hadn’t have been the healer she was. Cugacon was recovering as well, though more slowly because she saw too it that he got the rest he needed since he was so prone to not taking time for himself.
But the leather shop itself had been a disappointment. She’d taken one of her Drykas made yvas’ in to be duplicated so she’d have some stock on hand to sell with her animals. The resulting things the leatherworker had shown her were so inferior Kavala was stunned he’d even try to pass them off as acceptable. The resulting argument had been almost embarrassing because she’d called him out right there in the middle of his store. Sure, there were no other customers waiting, but he was there and he knew what she thought of his work when she examined it. The leather was of inferior quality, of thicknesses that varied and had definite curing imperfections. They were simply things she couldn’t use. Tack couldn’t be trusted if it was apt to fail in the middle of a place where it was really needed. Striders, who ran at sixty miles an hour or faster, had to have yvas’ that wouldn’t break under that strain endangering their riders lives.
She’d gotten into it with him, unhappy that he’d tried to dupe her. She’d stood up for herself, refused to purchase the crappy workmanship, and instead bought leather that was good quality from him when he refused to redo the order. “I’ll just teach myself how to work leather and make them myself. That way I know I am safe and my clients are safe when they use my tack. I don’t need to be dependent upon you and your shoddy workmanship to put my life in danger.” She’d announced, forming the plan then demanding he sell her leather that was worth something. He had it. He just hadn’t used it on her order. And that made Kavala outraged. The Leatherman was young, probably not old enough to have sired kids and thus be higher in rank than Kavala. So, when she issued her words, her threat was real. And she outranked him being a Nakivak, so it was something he couldn’t gainsay.
Marching off, she’d loaded the leather (wrapped in oilskin to protect against the rain) across the rump of her horse – all five cowhides worth – and went off to the library to find a book on leatherworking. After spending an hour searching with the librarian rather irritated that someone so wet had dared to enter his domain, she’d discovered they had books on leatherworking but EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM was checked out, and only minutes before. Kavala put a hold on them and asked to be notified if someone brought the three back. It was then the librarian had commented he thought it was odd the leatherworker had checked them out himself moments before. Kavala had started to curse immediately in Pavi, her tirade and fury needing an outlet when he’d revealed how sneaky the leatherworker was trying to thwart her plan.
Kavala was quietly furious. And she knew she’d both embarrassed herself in front of the leatherworker with the fit she’d had and in front of the librarian later.
So she’d marched back home, put the leather away deciding since Aweston knew how to work leather he could teach her, and then decided to relax by working on her glyphing. She had parchments of papers out on the big table, pen, what was left of the ink she’d just spilled, and was glaring at the whole mess.
“I knew better than to start a project like this today… I just knew better.” She carefully cleaned up the ink, replaced the empty vial with a fresh one, and desperately tried to wash the black off her hands. All she’d really been trying to do was store her healing gnosis in the glyph – preferably a bone-setting glyph, and yet she couldn’t even manage to ink out the glyph on paper far enough to use it to store her gnosis.
“Frustration, thy name is Kavala today.” The girl said, getting all cleaned up, having regathered her wits and supplies. Kavala sat down to repeat the glyph, taking a fresh piece of parchment out. She breathed deeply, concentrated, and then began sketching out her glyph one more time.
Kavala carefully reconstructed her Focus – that of a rearing horse – and then carefully surrounded it by its barrier of Pavi runes all themed around being an obstruction. Then, carefully she’d added her trigger, using the word ‘release’ which was always her standby. She copied four of these designs down on parchment, then set them aside to let them dry. Kavala poured herself a glass of wine, leaned back, and drank deeply. She checked the ink frequently, and about twenty minutes later all four parchments were dry. Then, one by one, she laid her hands on them, tapped her gnosis, and concentrated on pouring bone-mending energy into each one, more than enough for the largest most awful break possible of a single bone. They wouldn’t help against someone with multiple fractures in their bodies. But they would help against folks who say took a nasty fall from a horse and snapped a forearm. Once ‘loaded’ as she called them, Kavala set the glyphs aside and began to put on stew. She was growing hungry and soon enough the entire staff would be wandering in from wherever they were to have themselves a late night supper. Dinner had been hours ago and more like an elaborate lunch. But because the folks at Sanctuary worked so hard, they not only got breakfast, lunch and dinner, they got supper as well.
So once the stew was on – vegetables cut and boiling in the water with venison – and a fresh loaf of bread was in the oven, Kavala sat down to relax once more. It was just about then she noticed the visitors wandering through the horse gate, tired striders in tow, looking rather exhausted. She rosed to greet them, stepping off the veranda and walking the length of the courtyard to open the horsegate herself.
“Fair winds and tall grass. You both look worn. Come in. You need stabling, I take it?” She asked politely, looking first to one stranger then the next.
Location: Sanctuary’s Veranda overlooking the inner Courtyard/Horse Gate
Purpose: Meeting Letho and Ronan, Thread challenge stuff
Things weren’t going so well, truth be told. Kavala decided instantly that she should have stayed in bed as she surveyed the black pool of ink that was slowly expanding over the big oak table on the veranda. A knocked over inkwell was the culprit. Kavala, after the day she’d had, really had no reaction to it at all except to sigh. It even took her a good two minutes to rise and go get something to clean the mess up with, as unsurprised and undaunted as her already horrible day had made her.
All in all, Kavala couldn’t have had a more rotten day if she tried. Waking up, she’d discovered the wellhead for the main well in Sanctuary’s courtyard had somehow cracked and was gushing water all over. It was too big of a job for someone at the facility to handle, so they’d sent for help from the city. The first repairman who’d come had replaced the wellhead, but then proceeded to tell her all the reasons why it had cracked and how she needed a new well dug completely in a completely more ideal location.. It wasn’t something she could afford at the moment, but it had weighed heavily on her mind all day. Then, about mid morning, she’d had to go to town to pick up an order of Yvas’ at the local leatherworker there. On the way she’d almost been run down by a carriage that was ill driven by two youths and then had gotten soaked when Riverfalls’ normally wet weather had unleashed its fury all at once in an epic downpour that reminded her of the Bluevein plunging off the Cyphrus grasslands itself.
So by the time she’d managed to hit the leather shop, she was soaked, tired, and more than a little fearful for her life. It’d been almost fifty days since the encounter with glassbeaks, but in a way Kavala was still healing. There was a slight limp in her stride, which she discounted because she _was_ alive and in far better shape than she would have been if she hadn’t have been the healer she was. Cugacon was recovering as well, though more slowly because she saw too it that he got the rest he needed since he was so prone to not taking time for himself.
But the leather shop itself had been a disappointment. She’d taken one of her Drykas made yvas’ in to be duplicated so she’d have some stock on hand to sell with her animals. The resulting things the leatherworker had shown her were so inferior Kavala was stunned he’d even try to pass them off as acceptable. The resulting argument had been almost embarrassing because she’d called him out right there in the middle of his store. Sure, there were no other customers waiting, but he was there and he knew what she thought of his work when she examined it. The leather was of inferior quality, of thicknesses that varied and had definite curing imperfections. They were simply things she couldn’t use. Tack couldn’t be trusted if it was apt to fail in the middle of a place where it was really needed. Striders, who ran at sixty miles an hour or faster, had to have yvas’ that wouldn’t break under that strain endangering their riders lives.
She’d gotten into it with him, unhappy that he’d tried to dupe her. She’d stood up for herself, refused to purchase the crappy workmanship, and instead bought leather that was good quality from him when he refused to redo the order. “I’ll just teach myself how to work leather and make them myself. That way I know I am safe and my clients are safe when they use my tack. I don’t need to be dependent upon you and your shoddy workmanship to put my life in danger.” She’d announced, forming the plan then demanding he sell her leather that was worth something. He had it. He just hadn’t used it on her order. And that made Kavala outraged. The Leatherman was young, probably not old enough to have sired kids and thus be higher in rank than Kavala. So, when she issued her words, her threat was real. And she outranked him being a Nakivak, so it was something he couldn’t gainsay.
Marching off, she’d loaded the leather (wrapped in oilskin to protect against the rain) across the rump of her horse – all five cowhides worth – and went off to the library to find a book on leatherworking. After spending an hour searching with the librarian rather irritated that someone so wet had dared to enter his domain, she’d discovered they had books on leatherworking but EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THEM was checked out, and only minutes before. Kavala put a hold on them and asked to be notified if someone brought the three back. It was then the librarian had commented he thought it was odd the leatherworker had checked them out himself moments before. Kavala had started to curse immediately in Pavi, her tirade and fury needing an outlet when he’d revealed how sneaky the leatherworker was trying to thwart her plan.
Kavala was quietly furious. And she knew she’d both embarrassed herself in front of the leatherworker with the fit she’d had and in front of the librarian later.
So she’d marched back home, put the leather away deciding since Aweston knew how to work leather he could teach her, and then decided to relax by working on her glyphing. She had parchments of papers out on the big table, pen, what was left of the ink she’d just spilled, and was glaring at the whole mess.
“I knew better than to start a project like this today… I just knew better.” She carefully cleaned up the ink, replaced the empty vial with a fresh one, and desperately tried to wash the black off her hands. All she’d really been trying to do was store her healing gnosis in the glyph – preferably a bone-setting glyph, and yet she couldn’t even manage to ink out the glyph on paper far enough to use it to store her gnosis.
“Frustration, thy name is Kavala today.” The girl said, getting all cleaned up, having regathered her wits and supplies. Kavala sat down to repeat the glyph, taking a fresh piece of parchment out. She breathed deeply, concentrated, and then began sketching out her glyph one more time.
Kavala carefully reconstructed her Focus – that of a rearing horse – and then carefully surrounded it by its barrier of Pavi runes all themed around being an obstruction. Then, carefully she’d added her trigger, using the word ‘release’ which was always her standby. She copied four of these designs down on parchment, then set them aside to let them dry. Kavala poured herself a glass of wine, leaned back, and drank deeply. She checked the ink frequently, and about twenty minutes later all four parchments were dry. Then, one by one, she laid her hands on them, tapped her gnosis, and concentrated on pouring bone-mending energy into each one, more than enough for the largest most awful break possible of a single bone. They wouldn’t help against someone with multiple fractures in their bodies. But they would help against folks who say took a nasty fall from a horse and snapped a forearm. Once ‘loaded’ as she called them, Kavala set the glyphs aside and began to put on stew. She was growing hungry and soon enough the entire staff would be wandering in from wherever they were to have themselves a late night supper. Dinner had been hours ago and more like an elaborate lunch. But because the folks at Sanctuary worked so hard, they not only got breakfast, lunch and dinner, they got supper as well.
So once the stew was on – vegetables cut and boiling in the water with venison – and a fresh loaf of bread was in the oven, Kavala sat down to relax once more. It was just about then she noticed the visitors wandering through the horse gate, tired striders in tow, looking rather exhausted. She rosed to greet them, stepping off the veranda and walking the length of the courtyard to open the horsegate herself.
“Fair winds and tall grass. You both look worn. Come in. You need stabling, I take it?” She asked politely, looking first to one stranger then the next.
