Fable - Ask A Blade, a Banner, a Bulletin

[An-her Amentotankhatra]

Akroó! Hark! 'Asagh!
To the willing or brave, see here!
I am unable, and unwilling, to put my body through the abuse of adventure.
I have in my possession a set of instructions, intended to lead one to an object of great desire.
I want this object found and brought to me, and the reward shall be handsome.
Go to the house at the end of the cove, with the bright blue awnings, and meet with my valet.
He will give you all that you may need to begin.​

---

How so ominous and foreboding. I wonder if the writer knows that this will attract as many ilk as it will adventurers.

Salih muses in front of the notice board, giving the large bulletin a skeptical read, expression open and telling. Not just anyone produces a notice phased with such scant and cryptic turn. It evoked in Salih the feeling of reading a criminal's coded message, but a criminal feeling safe enough to reference an opulent estate is dubious at best, so he allows that notion to rest momentarily.

He finds the webs of curiosity getting the better of him, and tears one of the many small strips from the bottom of the parchment, carefully pinched between two fingers as one would a roll of tobacco. The crowd of the small market area ebbs and flows around him, a head or more shorter than Salih and his banner, which he holds higher as he walks away, to avoid striking someone with it. A young boy nervously stops him to make purchase of a rattle dangling from his pack, and Salih gladly sells to him, handing over his ware as well as a small card inked with a peacock feather in exchange for coin, before wishing him many well days, and continuing onward.

As he breaches the outskirts of the market crowd and into the lesser bustle, small blue pennants appear over the slight hill. The whitebrick walls of the estate rise below the spires from which the pennants hang. Half of the bricks shine brightly with a new coat of whiting, while the other half remains a duller, dustier shade, in the process of treatment. Cresting the hill reveals the undoubtedly expensive ironwork gate, glinting in the sun, and through which can be seen parts of the full house, awnings casting magnificent, well-needed shade across parts of the front receiving gardens.

The kindly-looking man at the gate quietly accepts the parchment strip, and makes Salih passage with a nod and a gesture.

"Thank you, my friend."

Salih moves himself with great care through the garden, and stands in front of a carved stone bench with the stave of his banner leaning in the crook of his arm, hands clasped together in front of himself. He glances around mildly as he awaits a greeting from within the house.

---

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"You too, eh?" Garrod calls out to the new comer, robed as he was, tall as sin, and with a banner to show for it. The one eyed monster hunter smirked, arms crossed about his chest as he leaned lazy against the wall of estate, just out of site.

"Gotta admit, the posting was just too enticing to pass up," he says, lips curled in a playful hunger, his green eye bright with the glint of healthy greed. "What do you think the object will be, hmm?" He mused. "Djinni in a lamp, perhaps?" The monster hunter wore lighter fare than usual, his dark plate armor shrouded by airy robes, in a cloudy white, and his interior clothes were cut from linens and other material that trapped cool breezes.

Still, despite hism ore localized garb, Garrod looked every bit the foreigner.

"Could be, the patron is a serial killer come lure his next batch of victims," his impish expression spread a little wider, and he shrugged, nonchalant.

---

An-her Amentotankhatra

 

[An-her Amentotankhatra]

Salih turns his head in the direction of the voice and it's unseen possessor, intrigued and amused by the unconcerned, mischievous tone. Many that Salih had met would refuse to jest about DJinni for fear of some retribution. Nor would many be able to find a true one that'd give it, in his experience.

"A Djinni? Mm. That would be interesting. Perhaps it is the instrument of a trickster half-god."

The man continues to sound amused, and Salih picks up his banner, walking slowly in the man's direction to duck under a low-for-him branch.

"Could be, the patron is a serial killer come lure his next batch of victims."

The expression on the man's face- a errant strand or two of his white hair glittering from a sunspot -combined with his entirely lax shrug, piques Salih's interest, and he gives him a slight smile in return.

"Perhaps. Soldiers and adventurers would be far more interesting to hunt down than merchants and workers."

Salih joins the man, leaning on the trunk of the tree across from him, and regards him with a soft, curious gaze. After a few moments of silence, he bows his head and touches his forehead with his knuckle, then extends the hand to the stranger.

"Met well, my friend. I am An-her Salih Amentotankhatra, son of An-her Sennofre and Sadiki, of Maraan. May I know of you?"

---

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Formal one, aren't you?" Garrod grinned at the tall man, " Well met, " he replied as he mimicked the gesture, head bowed and knuckle to forehead, "An-her Salih Amentotankhatra, son of An-her Sennofre and Sadiki, of Maraan," he offered his own hand in return, his left, free of the boney white carapace of his stranger gauntlet. "I am Garrod Arlette, Son of Jacobin and Marlena Arlette, student of Arotrias Sinns, all of Alliria," he laughed small beneath his breath. "If you could call the shallows, Alliria," he hoped he did that right, and left his hand out still, unsure if the gesture ended in a clasp of grips, or if the offering was enough.

"Come, tell it true," Garrod beckoned with a jut of his chin. "What do you think of this... job offer?" his eye gleamed green, and his lip could not help but curl at one corner.

An-her Amentotankhatra

 

[An-her Amentotankhatra]

"Formal one, aren't you?" grinned the man before him, amused, as he mimmicked Salih's gesture of greeting, leaving his hand available at the end as he introduced himself.

Garrod Arlette of Alliria. You have spirit, my friend. Spirit indeed.

Salih takes the proffered hand-clasp, giving a comfortable squeeze as he smiles in return. The bone-white gauntlet catches his eye for but a moment, as they release the grip, and Garrod returns fully to his wall.

"And you are quite plucky, my friend."

Salih adjusts his keffiyeh, loosening the wrap around his throat and lifting the back to allow a breeze and a direct breath of air, as Garrod juts his chin, beckoning forth,

"Come, tell it true, what do you think of this... Job offer?"

A crinkle comes to the corners of Salih's eyes as a smirk forms on Garrod's face. His green eye glitters like an emerald in the diamond sea of his hair, catching and clear, and Salih can't help the chuckle as he leans down conspiratorially.

I hope you wield that blade as adeptly as you wield your soul.

"It calls to me of crime, or something close. This would be a fine setting for brigands or marauders to meet in broad daylight, unnoticed by all but their kin. But I lend certain credit to those I've never met."

A splash of water and the call of a single waterfowl punctuates the rustle of leaves and drone of insects within the proud little garden, heralding thanks for cooling waters, and somewhere above them a beaded curtain rustles and clinks.

Salih lowers his voice that much more to avoid being overheard.

"And what do you think, Garrod?"

---

Garrod Arlette

 

[Garrod Arlette]

"Plucky," Garrod grinned, and raised a finger to his nose as he smiled, bashful and flicked his pointer and forefinger way. "I've always liked that word," he added. Still, he rolled his shoulders and straightened up as he listened to the taller man's hunch.

"A crime, huh?" Garrod parroted as the explanation went on, leaning his weight back some, as if the very weight of the new information caused him to adjust his balance, when the sounds of natural life draw his attention to the water, a cormorant skate across the surface of the sea, wings a flatter. The salty breeze of the emerald waters.

The monster hunter turned investigator rubbed his chin once more, as the sound of beaded glass clinked and tinked above them. He looked to his right, and to his left, and his right hand motioned to the emptiness of the space around them. Not but the beat of insect wings to fill the quiet that quickly enveloped the space between them.

"There is no valet, and no others here to take the job," he stated matter of fact, and folded his arms about his hot metal plate once more. Armor and sleeves protecting him from being burned, he brought his eye back to An-her. "Think, maybe," he leaned closer and hushed his voce. "They may have already picked off one or two folk who came before us," despite his grim opinion, Garrod smiled strange to his companion. Almost excited.

An-her Amentotankhatra