"Pride in Profit"

An in-character roleplay blog for the Amavirrea family; a small merchant class family heralding from Ta'Nalfein. The blog's primary focus is on Maenelle and Orlaeth, two cousins from different family branches competing for the business' leadership. Currently based out of Ta'Vaalor, what mischief will the two get into as they live by the family tenet "Pride in Profit". [Posts fall in descending order. The blog is best initially read from the bottom up, with new posts appearing at the top.] (function(i,s,o,g,r,a,m){i['GoogleAnalyticsObject']=r;i[r]=i[r]||function(){ (i[r].q=i[r].q||[]).push(arguments)},i[r].l=1*new Date();a=s.createElement(o), m=s.getElementsByTagName(o)[0];a.async=1;a.src=g;m.parentNode.insertBefore(a,m) })(window,document,'script','https://www.google-analytics.com/analytics.js','ga'); ga('create', 'UA-89228601-1', 'auto'); ga('send', 'pageview');

[amavirrea]

Brief Holiday Hiatus

[With the holidays heading into full swing, we're taking a small hiatus from our Nalfein machinations.  In-characterly, Orlaeth and Maenelle are about in Ta'Vaalor, but it seems both are extremely busy running a family empire.  If you're looking for them, you likely *just* missed them!  Out-of-characterly, we'll be back into the thick of all our plots as soon as we survive a brutal work shift coupled with a quick pre-holiday trip and then Christmas.]

[amavirrea]

The last minute addition of a dozen cargo crates and an ornate locked wardrobe trunk were carefully loaded aboard the unobtrusive vessel docked at Solhaven at sunset.  With warnings from the Captain to keep the client's wardrobe from being scratched, the trunk was placed last into the hold by sailors who grumbled halfheartedly. They sailed on the tide later that evening, and had been promised when the last of their cargo was loaded, the Captain himself was buying a round at the local tavern in celebration of their good fortune.

Moments after the last sailor scrambled up from the hold and the cargo hatch was battened, a faint rustling came from within the wardrobe, followed by a soft clicking noise.  Silently, the trunk lid opened and a head slowly raised itself from within. Shoulder length dark hair was tied back and covered by a bandana, with a tattered patch leaving a single sapphire blue eye revealed. Haphazard smudges of soot and grime made facial features difficult to discern clearly. Peering about cautiously, the figure crept out of the trunk on bare feet, lowering the lid back into place soundlessly. Clad in a long sleeved grey cotton shirt, a tattered black vest, and dark blue breeches belted with a loosely tied red silk sash, the mysterious stowaway could be easily mistaken for any common sailor in the port.

Creeping quietly in the shadows, the figure made his way to the steep steps leading to the upper deck.  With distinct care he climbed to the top and peered cautiously about the ship's deck, taking note of the few remaining hands left on watch, jealously staring after the boisterous crowd of crew mates making their way along the docks to meet their captain.  Taking advantage of their distraction he crawled out onto the deck and scuttled silently to the door of the captain's cabin.  Moving with graceful ease, a set of lockpicks was withdrawn from the sash and deftly put to use on the simple lock.  Fingers were run along the door's edge as it was pushed open only slightly, hesitating for a brief moment to carefully tug a small cord free from within.  After another brief pass along the doorframe with his fingertips, the figure pressed the door open and slipped inside, closing the door after him.  

Pausing a long moment to listen to the sounds of the ship, the figure leaned back against the door, his eye flicking to the cord he'd unhooked. It led upward to a small, simple trap mechanism consisting of a wound spring latch, metal mallet and ship's bell.  Had the cord been pulled, the latch would have released and the mallet would have repeatedly struck the bell.  Allowing a wry smile to cross his lips, he took in the rest of the cabin.  A small map table with under-hung drawers, a comfortable looking sea-bed, a large chest at one end and several smaller ones underneath, an hourglass and a pair of wall-mounted storm lanterns and several overhead latched bins were noted silently.

Moving to the edge of the table, he quickly perused the sea charts, then flipped the hourglass over and began inspecting the contents of the drawers.  A short, waterproof chart tube was immediately stuffed into his sash, and the remaining contents of the drawers left haphazardly on the tabletop.  Quickly, he turned and searched the contents of the cupboards, leaving an empty silver-chased wooden tankard and a sealed ceramic bottle on the bed. Dropping to his knees, he quickly inspected and unlocked the large chest and the smaller strongboxes below. The smaller boxes contained loose coins, several pouches of gems and a few assorted items of jewelry.  Two of the pouches were slipped into his vest before he turned to the larger chest.

Inside were various items of clothing, quickly searched and discarded, some personal effects of no lingering interest and a leather document case.  Rifling rapidly through the documents, he found them to be typical ledgers and manifests, all apparently in order. He replaced the documents and ran his fingers along the edges of the chest's interior, stopping with a soft exhalation as the lid of the chest gave slightly under his touch. With practiced ease, he slid the false top to one side, revealing a small sheaf of documents concealed within.  These were rapidly inspected, and one withdrawn and quickly read.  With slow, deliberate care, one corner of the document was torn free in a jagged pattern, a house seal and part of a signature on the portion removed.  The smaller torn piece went immediately into the sealed map tube at his waist, while the remaining documents were carefully refolded, placed back in order and returned to their secret location in the chest's lid. Making certain the lid looked undisturbed, he scattered the other contents onto the bed, glancing at the hourglass on the table.

Less than half the sand filled the lower end of the glass.  Another quick look around the room met with a nod of satisfaction.  The room looked like it had been ransacked hurriedly.  He moved to the door, listening intently.  The low murmur of those on the deck could be heard between rounds of raucous laughter and singing from the shore and the occasional cry of gulls overhead.  He pulled the door open a sliver, moving his head to peer in a wide arc to both sides through the gap. The faintest hint of movement caught his eye, and he froze in place as a figure moved to the door from one side and leaned back against it.  As soon as the door began to move, the stowaway pulled the door open, spilling the figure backwards into the cabin!  The startled elven crewman looked up in shock, eyes widening in sudden recognition, his mouth opening up to gasp.

"Amav-"

With lightning speed, the standing figure had drawn a dagger from a hidden sheath at his back.  Up and back under the chin, the elf was silenced and slain instantly with a thrust that penetrated into his brain stem. A quick glance from the silent killer revealed the rest of the crew continued to be distracted by the laughter and sounds from of the shore. Moving quickly, dagger still pressed tightly into the corpse's head, he placed the stolen gem pouches within the dead elf's shirt.  With a glance at the still unsuspecting crew, he quietly dragged the corpse to the seaward rail of the ship and tipped it over, letting himself be pulled over the edge with it. Hitting the water, he immediately yanked the dagger free and re-sheathed it as he pulled himself frantically underneath the keel of the ship, seeking the underside of the dock along the shore.

Surfacing, he heard the shouts of the crew above, and the frantic ringing of the ship's bell.  He moved purposefully underneath the docks to one of the many scattered dinghies, pulling himself aboard quickly.  Movement below him, a brush of something large against the wooden hull and then a dark fin vanishing into the shallow harbor brought a shiver that had nothing to do with the chill of the water.

Taking advantage of the commotion on the dock and ship in the distance, he quickly wrung some of the seawater from his clothing and climbed the side of the stone quay, briefly taking shelter behind a stack of barrels and cargo crates. Cries from the ship and warnings of sharks in the water could be heard along with the bustle of frantic crewmen and curious townsfolk.  As one ship's crew hurried by, he slipped in among the last of the rushing crowd, then moved along and sidestepped into a shadowed alleyway.  

Twists and turns through the various shadows of the city brought the damp figure to an inn, where a quick exchange of words obtained him a room key and a nonchalant nod. He made his way up the stairs and into a sparse room with a single travel chest upon the bed and a washbasin on the table.  Stripping out of his clothes, he opened the travel chest and withdrew a small bag of bathing supplies.  Quickly, he made use of the washbasin, removing the soot and smudges from his face and with some minor effort, his dark hair was washed and rinsed into a golden blonde. Drying himself with the blanket from the bed, he quickly changed into the clothes within, tossing the damp disguise into the empty chest before closing it.

An hour later, Orlaeth Amavirrea stepped out into the streets of Ta'Vaalor from the Etesian Villa with a sealed map tube tucked into the pocket of his longcoat.  Passing by a barrel filled with putrid produce outside the grocer's, he discreetly tossed away the crumpled remnants of his Chronomage return ticket.

[amavirrea]

Maenelle's morning begins the same every day.  There is almost a soothing nature to the ritual in all of it.  She perches at the desk in the villa's office with a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of messages to sort through in the other.  With a mind honed to a fine point by a century of experience, she quickly sorts through the handful of letters and notices, filing each one into the appropriate stack on her desk to be dealt with immediately or later.  One particular letter from Ta'Nalfein places a thoughtful moue on her lips as she breaks the seal and reads through it:

"We write to inform you that the Thistle & Thorn Florist will be unable to complete your order in a timely manner.  Try as we might, we were unable to find the specific short-stemmed tiger lilies you requested.  If you would like to change your order to accommodate tiger lilies with long stems, plucked stems, or ones with unusually shaped petals, please let us know."

The letter gets neatly refolded and placed into a small cedar box, where it joins a jet earcuff already nestled against the velvet interior.   Aloud, she muses, "Knowing where you aren't is the first step to finding where you are.  If Orlaeth didn't linger in Ta'Nalfein, then, where *did* he go?"  

Maenelle takes up a nearby quill and after dipping it in ink, she writes a quick reply:

"Please change my order to include flaming violets and ice tulips, both sourced from their natural environs.  I still require the blooms to be set upon short stems, as the vase I have is of particular shape.  I would appreciate my order's expedition and will pay any additional necessary fees.

In Gratitude, M. Amavirrea"

Working towards satisfying her curiosity on her cousin’s abrupt, and unusual, departure was a form of catharsis; freeing up her mind to devote towards Amavirrea business matters.  It was another day filled to the brim with meetings, contracts, deliveries, and a host of unknown problems to solve.  She had best get to it.

[amavirrea]

Pulling the rim of his hat low over his face to hide his visage, Orlaeth stepped briskly off the airship's gangway and onto the night-shrouded docks in Ta'Nalfein.  Within moments he was flitting from shadow to shadow along storefronts and dockside taverns. Travelling between one tavern and a warehouse, he casually slipped into the gap between the buildings.  Crossing back and forth through shadowed alleyways, dimly lit streets and closed marketplaces, Orlaeth wound his way through the city’s trade district to the lush residences of the well-to-do merchant families.  

The Amavirrea Estate was built on a sizable grounds, a fitted stone road leading from the common thoroughfare under a long canopy of trees to the front courtyard of the estate's mansion. Fountains, gardens, topiary and a small pond covered the front's grounds of the estate to each side of the road, offering an obvious means of covert approach. Instead, Orlaeth strode rapidly but quietly up the center of the entrance road, relying on the late hour and overhead canopy of the trees to shelter him from view.

Just before he reached the edge of the brightly lit courtyard, he slipped into the shadows of the last tree in the row, his gaze falling upon one of the outlying structures beyond the main house's family wing.  Arcane lights glimmered in the upper windows of the two story structure, bringing the ghost of a smile to Orlaeth's lips.

Waiting for a few moments, Orlaeth was pleased to see a pair of roving sentries come around the edge of the house, heading for the courtyard.  Almost silently, a second pair of sentries arrived from the opposite direction, and the four converged in the well-lit courtyard's center.  A flicker of shadows along the rooftop caught Orlaeth's eyes, as well as the faintest hint of movement from the arched entryway to the mansion.  The four guards in the courtyard, upon meeting, swapped one partner each, wordlessly, and changed direction.  One pair began to amble quietly along the entrance road, the other pair began a meandering route through the topiary on the other side of the trees.

Orlaeth exhaled silently as the first pair moved past, lowering his gaze to track their progress by watching their feet so as to not draw any attention to himself or give the slightest glint of a reflection for them to possibly notice.  The sentries moved past at a methodical pace, each one performing a smooth, almost careless survey of their surroundings, neither in synch with the other.  Orlaeth was impressed, knowing the seemingly casual observation to be anything but careless.  By not directing their attention to any one spot, their peripheral vision would catch any motion far more easily in the darkness. By keeping their attention constantly moving, they were effectively covering a much larger area than watching any specific area closely.

Orlaeth tracked their progress until they were halfway down the entry road before he let his gaze slide back to the outlying house.  Waiting for a moment to observe his route for any other sentries, he moved at a calm, stately pace several yards from the edges of the lit area surrounding the mansion. Slipping up to the front door, he carefully placed a hand on the circular engraved knocker, but rather than knocking, he slid it back and forth several times in a seemingly random pattern.

In response to his covert signal, the lights in the overhead window vanished suddenly leaving the front yard shrouded further in darkness.  A moment after he silently lowered his hand from the metal ring, the door slipped open a handspan.  

A delicate voice spoke softly to the darkness, "My guest is expected.  Now continue your patrols, and make no note in your reports that any such guest arrived at all."

A trickle of sweat rolled down Orlaeth's spine as he felt, rather than heard, the faintest breeze move away behind him.  He smiled into the darkened opening of the doorway as a heavy chain was withdrawn and the door opened just enough to admit him entrance.

He stepped inside, allowing the door to close behind him, before saying in a hushed voice, "I see Mother has made a point of hiring Ta’Nalfein’s best.  I never even knew that last guard was there, Oraena."

A delighted tinkle of laughter followed his comment.  The response was a breathy whisper, "Oh! How exciting!  You did make it this far, and only missed the one!  I've been watching since you made your way onto the grounds. If I hadn't put my lights out, I don't think they'd have had a reason to investigate.  I think they're so used to seeing me work late that not seeing the lights was cause for worry."

Orlaeth enveloped the slender young woman in a heartfelt hug, kissing her on the forehead.  Squeezing him back tightly, the girl suddenly giggled, and asked breathlessly, "What have you brought for me?  Something new, I hope?"

Orlaeth chuckled, then nodded.  He spoke with the rich, husky tone to his voice, "I know I've been a bit overdue in sending you your requests, so I've brought you something to help. Someone -new- to write to who is very curious about what schemes you're concocting in my absence.  Would you like to write her a letter?"

The young woman nodded eagerly, her eyes twinkling with enthusiasm.  Orlaeth took her by the arm as they walked to the sitting room, his voice a husky drawl in the comfortable shadows, "I'll tell you all the details, but I need you to do something for me in exchange.  I've got some very important work that I need to do, and I need your help to get it done properly. If anyone should ask my whereabouts, I've been here with you, while trying to avoid Father's wrath."

The young woman tilted her head to one side, then asked curiously, "Whyever would Father be mad at you?  Shall I have a word with him about it?"

Orlaeth smiled, shaking his head, "No, no, he musn't even know I'm here, and neither must Mother, though I suspect she'll get wind of -someone- paying you a late night call. If she does question you, only then must you tell her what I've asked of you, but nothing more, including where I have gone.  It's very important.  She'll know what to do."

His sister considered for a long moment, then nodded with a slight frown.  She hugged Orlaeth tightly once more, whispering, "You know I'd do anything you asked." There was a brief silence before she looked up and asked with a teasing smile, "Why do you smell of lilacs?"

[amavirrea]

The next dawn found her awake and still in bed, staring at the warm glow of light just beginning to peek its way into her window.   A determined beam of light progressed slowly across the foot of her bed as the sun gradually climbed up in the sky, creeping ever closer to a lacquered pouch tossed aside the night before.  Unable to put off the moment any longer, she shrugged into a silken robe and upended the pouch's contents into her awaiting palm.  Two objects bounced out; a twisted jet earcuff and a silver-veined mithril signet ring.

She reflected on the first item for the shortest amount of time.  It was an earcuff she had noticed him always wearing from their very first encounter.  Back then was she surprised to see Orlaeth was essentially proclaiming himself for hire?  Not nearly as much of a surprise as she felt now, holding what amounted to a silent statement on his accepted employment.  Practically every Nalfein is embroiled within some manner of subterfuge, and it wasn't terribly shocking to hold evidence in her hand of her cousin diving deeper into a sea of intrigue.  Some merely dabble a toe beneath the waves, but Ryndaer's heirs were simply not known for their caution.  Orlaeth only seemed to be following his nature; or his mother's instruction.

The mithril signet ring caused her some bewilderment.  One thing about Orlaeth, he had a distinct knack for toppling over random pieces every time she thought she had the game board set.  This latest development was no exception.  Her mind worked through the probable meanings; discarding or ruminating over each one until she was left with only a handful of possibilities.

"What game are you playing?" she wondered aloud, slipping the heavy signet ring over her thumb.  It was a thrilling moment to wear this symbolic trifle of family power, and she took her time reveling in the weight of it on her own hand.  Four nights ago in the presence of Sorrah and Menalaues, he had asked her what she wanted, and she had unintentionally spread her hidden ambitions on the table.  Now he presented her with that very thing; de facto control over the Amavirrea ventures.

Whatever Orlaeth's cryptic intent, she vowed in that moment to make it infinitely more difficult to get the signet ring off her finger.  Coming this close to her goals, she wasn't about to fall backwards.  Besides, controlling his portion of the Amavirrea fortunes meant she could easily wipe out her mounting debts from this week long foray into Ta'Illistim.

With the signet ring encircling her thumb, she hurried out of bed and rushed to prepare for the day.  There were so many meetings and appointments to make now.  Once more at the head, where she belonged, she'd set everything to rights from her previous temper tantrum.  It was back to business as usual.  Pride in profit, indeed. 

[amavirrea]

She dreams of the desert; and is haunted.

Blowing sands.  Scorching winds.  

Torturous heat.  Frozen nights.

She wakes to him; and is soothed.

[amavirrea]

It was a magical evening spent within the Veythorne Manor gardens.  Except for the small mysterious pouch putting a foreign weight in her writing case, the night was nearly perfection.  Sorrah put on a sumptuous picnic amidst the angelica, lit from afar by the glowbark tree and the twinkling starlight overhead.  The memories made could not have been put to better music, performed as it was by Luxelle Machtes Ashrim and her Nightingale.  And if by evening's end she had negotiated a profitable arrangement between Luxelle and Sorrah for bardic lessons, well, why ever else had the Loenthran invited a Nalfein to a picnic?

[amavirrea]

~ Orlaeth Amavirrea ~

Bicentennial Portrait; Amavirrea Estate - Ta’Nalfein

[amavirrea]

Maenelle Amavirrea, circa 5101

[amavirrea]

When did your character first encounter death?  How did they handle the experience?

-=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-= -=-=

"Bhavi?  Bhavi?"

Worry added a featherlight quiver to her voice as she tried to capture her nursery maid's attention while tugging on a fold of the busy woman's skirt.

"What is wrong my little buttercup?  Shhh, now, shhh.  All these tears are simply unnecessary, they will just put a mess on your face and make your mother angry."

Gentle hands swiped away her tears as Bhavarota's arms wrapped a young Maenelle in a comforting embrace.   Her soothing rocking and shushing sounds seemed to settle the child, as her sobbing eventually tapered off into quiet hiccups and wet sounding sniffles.  It was only after Maenelle had soaked up every ounce of Bhavarota's matronly affections that she pointed over to an elaborate gilded cage taking up a corner of the child's playroom.

"Eiko won't sing for me anymore.  He's just sleeping all the time!" she pouted, while pulling Bhavarota closer to the right side of the room.  Sure enough, true to the child's words, the beautiful oriole was motionless at the cage's bottom.  What remained of a sugar-dusted pinwheel cookie found nearby would seem to be an unlikely culprit in any other place; except here in Ta'Nalfein where intrigue is often served up with breakfast.

Bhavarota kept her voice unnaturally calm as she asked, "Buttercup, where did you find this cookie?  It wasn't served at tea time."  A sudden slice of fear had the nursery maid tighten her hold on Maenelle's arm and yank her back from the cage.  A different fear, the kind born of a child's innocence, caused the young girl to avert her dark eyes and stubbornly refuse to speak.

Falling to one knee and gathering the girl in close, Bhavarota softened her tone and changed her tactic, "Sweetling, it is only that it looks to be such a delicious cookie and I would like one for myself."  Her lie fell imperfectly from her lips, quivering in all the wrong places as she did her best to hide the pastry’s nefarious implications from her charge.

Burying her face into the maid's shoulder, Maenelle admitted her guilt, "Aunt Tanyl sent them, but I wasn't supposed to eat any before supper."  She looks for redemption in Bhavarota's expression as she quickly tries to assuage her conscience, "I didn't eat one, Bhavi!  I didn't break my promise! I just- I just took one for Eiko, that's all."

Prim and proper, in a near perfect image of the woman she'll grow into, Maenelle added, "I will wait until after supper.  I gave my word."

The maid practically crumbles forward, once more wrapping Maenelle in a tight embrace and smothering kisses all over the child's face.  The moment passes all too soon for Maenelle, who is left like a dry sponge having not soaked up enough rain from a sudden downpour.

"We best clean up your face, Buttercup," Bhavarota says as she gets to her feet and tugs lightly on Maenelle's hand, "We'll have to tell your mother."

[amavirrea]

It isn’t long before Orlaeth’s informant network begins to filter back reports to Ta'Vaalor.

@}-------------------------{@

“O at MVi reported T leaving S’s room early morning.  Paid xx2 bonus for silence.”

“S&FC shopping.  Clothier district.  3 bolts. 2 seamstress.”

“O sighted T&S at T'I airship docks. 1m.”

“T&S left SG.  Ret. 4m later.  Wet.”

“S dinner alone.  Pheasant, greens, white Vaalorian wine.”

“S&FC shopping.  Imports district.  Chocolate. Coffee.”

“S & Dw.  Meet at MGI.  2m.  Goods exchanged.  Small pouch.”

“T&S. Witnessed perusing documents at MGI. 1m.”

“S&FC shopping.  Perfumery.  Public baths.”

“T&S appt w/ TC.  Please advise.”

Untitled by Stefany Alves 

[amavirrea]

[For Sorrah]

A discreet tap-tap-tap at the door is followed by an unseen shuffling sound, then footsteps fading down the hall.  When the door is opened, a beautiful bouquet of white geraniums is revealed.  Arranged in a tall celadon vase, the blossoms have been recently picked at their peak and each one is a pristine shade of white.  A dark green ribbon tied around the vase compliments the vibrant green of the spindly stems.  With no card or signature, the only indication of the sender is a single buttercup tucked into the ribbon's bow.

White Geraniums by Clive Barker

[amavirrea]

It began with a trip to the Shining City's exalted library, and ended at water's edge beneath the stars.  He studied the subtle intricacies of her unspoken language, while she read him Elven poetry.

"The water I hear in your voice, Fluid, Ever changing, It has become music to my ears."

"Joyful babbling, liquid laughter, silken whispers, Water is peace, water is serenity, water is beauty, All of these things .... ....that I see in you."

[amavirrea]

After getting confirmation of Maenelle's whereabouts from Sorrah, Orlaeth puts his informant's network to work with the task of discretely verifying her location, movements, and actions in Ta'Illistim. Only well established local contacts are to be used for surveillance and no direct actions are currently authorized.  

Reports are expected on a daily basis, with the exception being any travel movements out of Ta'Illistim to other locations are to be updated as soon as possible to facilitate additional surveillance networks being activated.

Requests for secondary surveillance are also issued for her Tehir companion, but simply for cross verification of contact with primary target.