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Goldswith Tales! (Closed, but with exceptions)

Started by Wrathwyrm, December 30, 2016, 02:04:25 AM

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Wrathwyrm

OOC: Basically, after writing out all that I did for Rena Goldswith, I felt that her parents and other relations really deserved their own tales.  Therefore, this thread will be dedicated to moments of their lives, good and bad.  The thread is closed for reasons of this having a significant impact on Rena's history.  However, if you would like to be a part of this past - and thus, a friend of the family or something - you should PM me for discussion and probably script RPing that I would later convert into chapter form.  Otherwise, sit back, relax, and enjoy things as they unfold.

IC>>>>>

PROLOGUE - Arden's World

"You can't just leave."

"Yes, I can."

"No, you can't.  This is your home and your land.  You're the elder brother, not me.  Your responsibilty-"

"I relinquish it to you, the better fighter and frankly the better man for this, overall."

"But Zan..."

Zan Goldswith was leaving.  In this, the House of Alamar - home to the Alamar family before passing their lineage to the Goldswith family - they were to be both the duly appointed Magistrate of the mountain mines of Fallial...and the descendants of the seven great knights who swore an oath of blood to an elven princess.  The Goldswiths were not a noble house of rule or of great importance, but to some...the honorable knighthood and reliability was greater than all the riches of the land.  However, it could only last so long as there was someone to succeed it.

Their father was Elric Goldswith, they themselves being Zan and Arden Goldswith, his sons.  The two of them were largely human, but due to the off-and-on relationships with elves since the time of Draken Alamar, there was some latent elven ancestry within either of them.  Zan was a taller and thinner man, brown-haired with a noble slope of a nose about him, and in need of specs for reading small print and such.  And while he did have some skill with a sword or a pair of daggers, he made a study of magic and all of its clever nuances, more than anything else.  Arden was a little shorter, a little younger, but more solidly built in physique.  He was black-haired with brown eyes that lit up like intense flame when agitated, such as now.

"Arden, you know for a fact that you're better-suited to life here.  You, sir, are a hardy man, while I am a seeker of knowledge and a bit of quiet.  I can't achieve that by overseeing miners, felling foes with Swift, and watching over the grounds."

"You're an intelligent man.  There's no obstacle that an ingenius mind can't overcome.  To me, you'll always be the best of us."

"That's very kind of you, but my mind is made up.  To hell with tradition.  I'm going to find a cozy little town and open a little shop, and there my ingenuity will prevale.  I'll find something that people want and make it possible with magic, not with my favored sword.  I'm leaving it here for safe keeping, anyway.  It belongs to the family and whoever awakens it, and it wouldn't do for me to carry it around since I won't be living here."

Draken Alamar's family had - after studying the magic that went into the blood oath - cast seven special blades that would remain in his ownership forever.  Made from elementally-treated metal and mixed in with his blood, the swords would only unleash their power to their rightful owners, and each sword would only react to the one whose personality and potential was closest.  Elric Goldswith had awakened Dusk, the black blade.  Zan had gained control of Swift, the blade of wind.  And Arden?  Flint, the fire sword.  For any one of them to leave their lands without their sword was to state - quite clearly - that they were no longer to be considered part of deep family affairs, and that was what Zan had chosen.  With him taking his things and a few ordinary weapons out the door now, Zan was leaving the succession of the family head to Arden now, and he was off to do what basically pleased him.  So, from now on, it was Arden's world.

Watching his older brother leave by horse-drawn carriage, Arden felt a terrible lonelyness and isolation he'd never felt before.  It was a cold feeling, strong enough within him to make him feel as though he should perhaps wield Flood - sword of water and ice - instead.  All this was the result of a series of arguments with their father, Elric, and there had been a rather intense one last night.  Arden would find the elder bearded Goldswith in his bedroom, alone.  This man, while still strong, needed to pass his authority to another, to make the head of the house for a new generation.  Tradition would choose Zan, of course, but now...

"Is he gone, then?"

"He is."

Elric Goldswith stood up and turned to the bedroom fireplace, where Dusk lay nearby.  Unlike Flint, his own sword, Dusk was smooth-bladed weapon with a gentle curve that tapered to a point, almost as though it were a large spike.  It looked like it was made of obsidian and shimmered when thrust or swept in any direction.  Picking up the sword, Elric gestured for him to come closer.  There, he held the sword up high before him, before bringing it down gently to one shoulder, then the other, and then over his head.  From there, the old man turned it to rest the point of his sword into the floor.

"I name you master of the household, Arden Goldswith.  You are the Knight and Magistrate of these lands, with all honors, accords, and especially responsibilities therein."

"But what of Zan?"

"Zan has made his choice and takes the responsibility of living with it.  I can respect that much.  Though I do not approve, I will not dishonor him.  He is family.  Go forth to the outside and show the countryside your right of succession."

Arden nodded, and left the room.  He came to the front entrance and stepped outside, then distanced himself from the house.  Their home was a large manor, pretty much a well-made and durable mansion, but...it wouldn't do to get to close for what he was about to do, just in case.  Once he was a fair distance from the house, Arden drew his own sword.  Like all seven swords, Flint was essentially a thick-bladed great sword in design, a big sword with a long handle that was dangerous to wield...and even more dangerous to anyone around him.  The long blade had a couple of shallow points to it, before reaching two spikes that converged inward towards the main point.  As opposed to Dusk's straight and flat crossguard, Flint's arced up like a pair of horns, and even looked like they were made of bone, like the handle.

As Arden drew it forth, he held it up in the same manner his father had done inside the house.  There, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the power within.  He had yet to fully master its power, but he could manage certain feats with the blade.  This was an easy one.  All he did was amass the power into the blade - the fiery energy surging with such force as to make the entire thing glow - and then to release it at full intensity upwards, straight into the sky!  The release was like a great pillar of fire, an orange-colored beam that rose into the sky and blasted outwards once it had reached a certain point.

This is my life now.  My world, for better or worse of it.

Wrathwyrm

The Silent Breach

"I really don't know what to do, though.  It's a mine, with a foreman, and I'm somehow in charge of it, even though I've never been trained for this sort of thing."

"Oh, and you think that I somehow know better?"

"No-  Well, yes, but-  Oh, you know what I mean, mother."

She did, actually, but if a mother can't tease her children a little bit, what fun is there for having them?  Let us explain the situation, at his time:  Arden Goldswith is the head of the House of Alamar, Magistrate to the Terrin Mountain Mines, and an unofficial knight to an ancient oath sworn by Draken Alamar.  He is currently at his wit's end, seated in a room with his mother, Elena Goldswith.  The elder lady is gray of hair, but still retains much life about her.  She and her husband are now the caretakers of the house, it being their honor to support and council the head of the house as need-be, where possible.  The trouble is...because Elena had been the head lady of a seamstress union and not of a group of men with shovels, she had no practical knowledge about mining.  What Arden wanted was the advice of someone who knows how to organize, but what he needed was to be prepared to make tough decisions, and 'What color does that best go with?' just wasn't going to cut it.

"Well, when you know less about something than those around you, the best way to approach it is to either learn more about it or do something practical.  These are a proud people, experts at their trade.  Some will respect that you are your father's son, but others you must prove yourself."

"And since my knowledge of mines is a teacup to their wine barrel, the best way to get on their good side is...?"

"I suggest you pick up a shovel and dig."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

The idea should have occurred to him from the start, really.  It was the best way to the heart of a man whose soul was in the parting and excavating of dirt and stone.  Just dig.  Trust that they know what they're doing and help them dig.  Because one thing that Arden had was a good swinging arm, and as he really got into it, he found he actually kind of enjoyed it.  You picked the right tools, you got into the job, you did a day's work, and you looked out for one another.  Along the way, he picked up on the nuances.  You had your actual miners, the men doing the digging and moving the earth with either force or precision.  Then, you had the runners, taking in food and water, removing the mountain stone.  There were the supporters, building and maintaining the tunnel supports, making sure the mountain doesn't fall on their heads.  And then, lastly, you had the appraisers.

They were special, you see.  Well-read and heavily studying the nature of artifacts and ore, these men and women practically worked over every surface of the mine with a fine-toothed comb, determining if there was even the smallest sign of a rich new ore deposit - magical or not - and to authenticate artifacts found in the process of digging.  This was especially important in the case of coming across a vein of iron ore.  Serenians were rather sensitive to pure iron, so finding a deposit of the stuff would be rather like finding poison gas.  Did we mention the poison gas?  There were dedicated poison wards hung by the supporters to alleviate that, but once glowing, the wards would need to be replaced, having reached their limits.  It was in this way - with hands-on experience - that Arden began to learn the trade, and would be better for it.  He actually didn't want to give it up, what with the ease he had with it.  Sadly, he was in charge, and that meant he had to manage the many tunnels that have gone into the mountains.  One day in particular, he was studying the maps made by the appraisers, talking with the local foreman...

"It's so complicated...  I mean, I see you've tried to organize the tunnels so they can cut across and support one another in a crisis, but really it's like a web."

"Many years, working in this place, you have to get really inventive, or when the trouble starts...it never stops."

A moment later, one of the runners burst into the foreman's cabin.  Another of their responsibilities was to deliver orders and information, especially in the case of emergencies, like now.  There'd been...well, it looked like an accident, but it was a damn peculiar one.  He led Arden and the foreman to Tunnel Three, where a few men were gathered around a breach that appeared to have collapsed on a miner.

"We found him like this, in that hole."

Arden found this a bit suspect.  Something was wrong here.

"Why haven't you removed the body?  Who made this breach?  It's not how we do things around here.  Where's the supports?"

"That's just it.  This isn't a tunnel.  We didn't make it.  It was just here with Gerid in it, dead."

"Pull him out of there."

They did so with care, since the breach was nothing more than an unstable hole in the wall, waiting to collapse.  Mercifully, he hadn't been deeply buried and could be dragged out by his feet.  However, examining the body, they realized that he was not killed by the collapse.  The appraiser noticed immediately.

"His neck has been broken.  It was twisted thus, with great strength.  Death was immediate."

Unsettling murmurs followed, as well as accusing glares from person to person.  This man had been murdered, and the only ones present to do so were his fellow miners.  Questions were raised and shouted, but before it could turn to violence, Arden shouted out.

"The murderer is not here!"

That got everyone's attention.

"Think about it.  Think about where we found him.  It doesn't make sense.  You found Gerid in a tunnel breach, covered in rocks, and with his neck broken.  Nobody saw anything, nobody heard anything, and nobody knows how this hole got here."

He turned to look at it, now.

"It doesn't really look dug out, does it?"

Because...what they had here was a hole that was a few feet in, big enough to fit a large man, that abruptly ends at a collapse of stone and dirt.  A man would have to dig here for a while and - with no runners or supporters ever coming by - break the neck of the intended target, and then try to cover it up...except it couldn't be, because the look of it was all wrong.  every miner here dug their tunnels wide enough for the carts, and for a man to sneak on by with care.  This was sloppy, amatuer-ish.  It just looked...

"Looks as though the ground was just pushed aside, doesn't it?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Well, he'd ended one bad rumor and started up another one, but this one he couldn't quell because it'd been of his own doing.  He'd reasoned with them, gotten the miners to stop turning on each other, but now they had a new concern.  What he'd proposed was that the hole had been either created by magic, or by some sort of burrowing monster.  There'd been no sign of these things, but the evidence seemed to conclude that it wasn't done by human hands, or not by them alone.  Earth magic was the easiest to investigate, but anyone within the area with such power was known to the localsalready, due to the fact that they called upon such people during times of mining complications, as in dealing heavy iron deposits and the like.  Results came back negative.  Nobody had seen anyone of that ability OR anyone of suspicion near the area, and there were no signs of any forced burrowing into the earth with magic from outside of the mine near ANY of the entrances.  That ruled out magic, as the kind of person with access to the power or skill to gain entrance from further off or do so with greater subtlety...would be wasting their talents on simply killing a man in a mine.

That left monsters, which was frankly something Arden had hoped to avoid.  Monsters in mines were bad enough, wild animals and unusual creatures just wandering in and creating havoc.  That alone was problematic.  This wasn't that, though.  This was something that maybe lived in stone.  Its home was down there, in the rocky depths, living an unknowable life that never saw the light of day.  Some sort of creature that could naturally force aside walls of solid rock with ease, that-

"No no no!  It just doesn't make any sense!"

He'd been in his bedroom, pacing up a storm.  He felt he thought better when working up a good steam.  He couldn't sleep, anyhow.  In the dim light of Flint's amber glow, Arden had stayed up, trying to figure it all out.  Yesterday, out of the blue, a man had been killed, and there'd been no reason for it.  It wasn't as though they hit something new, or found anything to bring the attentions of a creature.  And it couldn't be a creature!  What sort of monster just snaps a man's neck and leaves him like that?  There was no biting, no tearing, no venom - Nothing, except for the bruising from where he'd been gripped and the damage where the neck had been twisted broken.  He'd gotten the miners to believe it wasn't a man who did this, and further investigations stated it was no mage either.  But what beast could it be?  An undead warrior lost to the ages who just so happens to have earth magic?

Arden paused.

Wait a moment...  Wait just a moment there!

Taking Flint for light in the now-dark household, Arden practically leapt downstairs and found the way to the basement, to the deep-dry recesses where they keep the wine...and where they house the vault.  The vault itself was pure mythril.  It'd cost a fortune for Draken Alamar to make, for it housed things even more precious than that.  On the back wall, there were seven slots to hold seven swords.  Two of them were removed: Flint, which Arden held, and Dusk, which was in his father's room.  The other five were Swift, Flood, Quake, Flash, and Spark.  Arden approached Quake, running his fingers down the flat of the blade.  In the same way that Flint looked volcanic, Quake looked craggy, like rock.  Think of a sliver of mountain, pressed into metal form, with jagged serrations out the sides and a single point up top.  This blade...  This was the answer.  This was the key.

Pulling it out, Arden couldn't help but notice how heavy it was.  It wouldn't respond to him - bond to him - as Flint would.  He didn't quite fit the profile of the man who would wield it, of a man who felt lineage and eternity as Draken Alamar, the first owner of this blade.  Once out of the vault, he'd hoped the reaction would be immediate, but it was not.  To test the theory out, he would have to get alot closer...  That meant suiting up for combat.  Well, no matter.  The family armor had been recast for his use soon after his father decreed him head of the household.  Speaking of which.  Guess who awaited him in the main hall, still in his robes but wielding his own ancient sword?

"Arden, what the devil are you doing at this hour, and with that sword?  You can't wield its power."

"I know that, father, but I remembered something you taught me and Zan when we were young.  You said that some of these blades were found and some were made, and that Quake was Drakn Alamar's blade, because it was the first, right?"

"Yes, I did.  What of it?"

"Where did he get it?"

"Well, the mines, of course.  It was an artifact found in the rock, as had Flash and Dusk.  He..."

Elric Goldswith gave him a careful look.

"You're not suggesting the death in the mines is related to this, are you?"

"It's just a theory and I want to test it out.  You're welcome to join me."

"If you'll give me a chance to find the proper attire, I shall."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"...and if by some chance it was, then this would be the way to bring it out of there."

"A splendid line of reasoning, my boy, with the possible exception that you could be dead wrong."

"Well, if I am wrong, then I'm carrying extra-heavy sword for no reason and we'll just be wearing ourselves out for nothing."

"Hardly seems fair, doesn't it?"

"You could say that, IF I'm wrong."

"Yes, yes.  Let's just see then, shall we?"

What you have here is essentially two men and three heavy swords making their way into the mines from Tunnel Three.  Along the way, the foreman had said that two more bodies were found, and that the resulting bodies were similarly found in smaller tunnel breaches, with either the face crushed or the neck broken, as before.  It made him suspect that the monster in question had to be human-sized, or human-like, and smart enough to want to kill quietly.  Both Goldswiths agreed, and they told him to evacuate the mines.  Now, you have Arden in the family mythril armor, a bronze-brass-colored plate armor with beak-like formation on the helmet to protect the point between the eyes.  And next to him, you have Elric in ordinary plate that was of similar configuration.  Both men had their heirloom swords in hand.  Quake rested on Arden's back.  It hummed slightly.

"I was right.  It's already started."

"Do we proceed or wait for it to come to us?"

"Back away.  If it's calling, then I don't want it to surpr- AGH!!"

Of course, they hadn't known exactly what to expect, but the dark and statuesque hand from the flood of the tunnel not exactly on the list!  It just reached right out of the stone without any effort and grabbed him by the ankle!  Arden slashed and stabbed down - flames whipping and spewing from his sword - until he'd forced the hand to let go.  The hand went back into the hole it came from, and all was silent once more.  Well, almost.

"Did you see that?  Did you see that?!  Right from the ground, like it was nothing!"

"I saw, yes.  Perhaps we should retreat as you proposed?"

"Definitely."

Understand, fleeing from battle was not in either of their natures, and really...this wasn't even that.  The whole point of this exercise was to lure the thing out of the mines and make it safe again.  Of course, what they did after that...would be the problem.  Drawing Quake and putting away Flint, Arden struck the floors, the walls, and the ceiling as they left, then continued to do so to the ground as they left the mine.  As the sword continued to hum steadily, they knew that whatever it was had to be following them...and at speed.

"The power of the thing is incredible.  It must swim through the earth!  Alright, that's far enough."

With them far enough from the mines or any of the people, he cast aside the blade in his hand and drew the one on his back.

"Arden, you know if it takes hold of that blade-"

"I know, I know!  Just watch."

There was a low rumble as something beneath where the sword lay finally broke the surface.  It was tall, at least seven-foot, and built strong.  They whole of it appeared to be constructed of the same directly-embued elemental material as Quake itself, all in the vague impression of a man.  It was...

"A golem!"

"No, a guardian!  Draken Alamar's sword was found in a set of three, with Flash representing the heavens, Dusk to the darker realms, and Quake to the earth in between.  It must have been built to wield it originally!"

Yes, because it also had a shield arm, a buckler attached at the wrist, same material.  Now, it held the sword which was once bonded to it up into the air and...nothing happened.

"What happened?"

"Well, dad, the sword was his, but as you know...Draken Alamar changed them to suit him and his family instead.  He was a decent man, but he always had his personal needs.  Binding it to our blood, this thing cannot unlock its power as long as our family survives."

"Arden...  As long as our family survives."

"Oh, right."

Because the very next moment, the two of them jumped aside as the golem slammed down Quake with the force of a collapsing building!  It couldn't use the power of the blade, but it was still a solid weapon.  They now had one choice: Destroy it before it crushed them!  Easier said than done, though.  In all the time of their use, none of the swords had ever chipped or cracked.  Even as Elric vanished into darkness and cut across the thing's legs, he felt a great deal of resistance, and it was very hard to avoid a reprisal blow even while invisible.

"I don't think it sees with eyes, dad! I think it sees with magic!"

"Ah, well then I'm wasing my time, aren't I?"

"You could try hitting it harder!  I can only keep it occupied so long!"

"Watch and learn, boy."

He did...by leaping to a safe distance as Elric slashed down with his blade from some ten feet away...and instantly brought a shadow slice at the extended sword arm of the golem.  The arm actually parted there, cleanly, with the end of Quake still embedded in the ground.

"I'm honestly surprised that worked."

"You what?"

"Well, it's an echanted earthen metal body.  I thought perhaps it would be as resilient as the sword in its hand, but it seems to be not the case."

Or so he thought as...the golem jammed its stump onto the rest of the arm and appeared to re-attach it quite easily.  This was a problem.  Arden decided to test the extent of their dilemma now by swinging wide and creating a wave a fire that instantly burnt the grass and consumed the golem in fire too great for that shield to block alone.  The result was a conflagration so great that Elric had to run full-tilt to avoid it.  The old man now came up to Arden and smacked him in the helmet.

"Warn me when you're gonna do that, boy!  I've no want of an early grave!"

"Nor me, but I knew you could avoid it, or block it.  He's lacking in power, or his usual power.  So, I figured-"

"You figured wrong."

He pointed at the dying flames of his attack.  A great blaze, that was.  Hot enough to melt steel or rock, eve strong enough to harm the thing...but not in any permanent fashion.  It was reforming, repairing itself.  Of course, once the fire died down, they could see the glow from where its body contacted the ground.

"Oh, no wonder.  It's actually fed by the earth!"

"Good thing we lured it from its lair.  What's to stop it from submerging and popping out when it feels inclined to stab us from behind?"

"Nothing, unless...  Can your sword spoil the land?  Make it barren?"

"Yes, it can, but you'd better be right about this.  Once done, it can never be undone."

As the golem got to its feet, it had decided to engage in the very tactic they were thinking it would, sinking into the ground.  It'd only reached knee-depth when it stopped and pulled out again, looking down at the black and now deadened land, then to the old man who'd stuck his sword in the ground to basically kill it in this general area.  No sooner had it taken a step towards Elric than Arden swung a full-powered Flint at its leg, parting it and causing the stone-metal creation to fall to its knees.  From there, he wasted no time in cleaving the other leg, tearing through the waste, chopping the chest, cutting the arms, and crushing the head.  It was an exhausting process, and he could not stop until he used enough of his sword's ability to melt each and every piece of the golem.  Only Quake remained in the end, and only when the humming ceased did they declare the job was done.  Father and son now sat watching the embers die down, still in their armor.

"Will it really never recover?  The land, I mean."

"Not for a long time, not on its own.  Perhaps if a true wielder of Quake comes along, he'll sort it out.  'Till then, this will be a mark of the thing's grave."

"It's a real shame, though.  That was a living artifact.  We found and destroyed a piece of history.  I know we had no choice, but even still...it's a terrible waste."

"Well, look on the bright side.  There's likely to be more."

"What?"

"Heaven and darkness, and the earth in between."

It was at this point that Arden hit himself with the flat of his own sword, muttering "Gods all the dammit...".

Wrathwyrm

Lady Goldswith (Retired)

Morning came, as it always did, and with it came his usual rounds.  Get up and do morning exercises, several moment's meditation into the depths of the dark blade, dress for the day's work, eat a hearty breakfast, and begin morning patrol.  The life of even a retired member of the Goldswith family was busy.  Keeping busy was probably the correct term, but Elric Goldswith took his responsibilities seriously.  Tradition was important, and so was making certain that a grayed, bearded, wielder of a large and highly-magical sword was not too feeble to answer the call to battle if needed.  So, the rounds.  As caretaker of the House of Alamar, Elric was responsible for keeping the grounds safe from monsters and unwanted animals alike, repairing that which needed to be repaired, and keeping the head of the house aware of his responsibilities.  It wasn't generally very hard, but it kept one in shape from all the moving around.  Elric did not make use of a horse or other mount, you see.  This was all on foot.

Another thing he did was to see to it that the other caretaker - his wife - was up to date on her side of things.  It may seem unglamorous or even improper to a more modern mind, but Elena Goldswith was in charge of cleaning the house, maintaining fabrics, shopping for whatever the house and those within it needed, and other similar tasks.  The thing of it was that she actually did not have to cook for everyone...simply because everybody here knew how to hunt, clean, and cook their own meals.  Sometimes, though, she did so as a treat...and it was indeed a treat!  Today was not such a day, however.  Today...things had been left undone.  Elric mused at the meaning of that, and then - in a flash of worry - quickly checked her room.  What he found had confirmed his fears.

"They're gone."

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

There were, on the whole, only a few reasons that Lady Elena Goldswith (Retired) went out of the house.  True, she was old and true, she had a few tasks to take care of, but there were other things in life.  One reason was shopping, which she'd done yesterday.  Another was to visit friends, which she did every so often.  A third was to hunt...  Well, though she was a grayed woman with her hair in a tight braid, she still had her fire, and a good eye.  One, at any rate.  Suffice to say, you find this elder woman in a travel garb with a bow and quiver of arrows, and right now her good eye is focused on a target...

Zwiiip!

"AGH!  Dammit, woman!  All the gods' anger be upon you!  Do you hear me?!  ALL THE GODS!!"

"Good morning, Mr. Clandish."

You may be wondering just what is going on.  Well, it begins with the reminder that before she had been married, the not-yet-a-Goldswith Elena had been a seamstress, and in fact a good and well-respected one.  So much, so, in fact, that others in her relative position came to her if there was a problem, especially after becoming Lady Goldswith, wife of the Magistrate.  The issue with that, of course, was that Elric managed mines, not domestic matters, so she tended to solve matters on her own.  On occasion, her favorite longbow would get involved.  People just generally accepted that this would happen because she only used it to make a point.  Take Clandish, over there.  She was aiming to miss.  She had missed.  He might've evacuated his bowels in the interim, but it was a minor thing, in the end.

The trouble was this: Her old union came to her unofficially for help whenever normal channels hit a wall, dead in the face.  When negotiations break down, when there is no ordinary recourse, she was asked to look into the matter.  It amused her to do so, because she had a very simple method.  'If you don't want someone firing arrows at you, don't be an unreasonable git'.  She had done such a thing a few times to some deserving sod, but they usually relented after a while.  This was a little different, though.  Here, let's begin at the beginning.

Avery Clandish was from the coastal area of Serendipity.  He neglected to say which part, but that hardly mattered.  It must've been at one of the coastal trade hubs, because he was a merchant, a man of business.  He was also the current owner of the seamstress house in the Zefras area - the local town of the mining community - trying to put product he owned up and down the coast by covering this end of the market.  Well, good luck to that and she didn't care, except...there was a problem that she couldn't abide by.  In the olden times, if you were sick or had to otherwise stay home or do other things, the house owner just let you get on with your business and told you to make it up later.  Mr. Clandish had other ideas, like taking away money that these girls needed to live on.  It wouldn't have been much of a problem, as they were still dutiful workers, but for the fact that sometimes you have to take leave because you're giving birth.

You can see where this is going, can't you?

Women have to take extended leave when a situation like this crops up, and they can't afford to have their payment taken away from them, since this usually involved some rather important caregiving.  So, the lady in question asked for an exception, and Clandish said no.  Her friends tried to convince him, and Clandish said no.  The union convened to negotiate terms and-  Look, you get the idea, yes?  He's a stubborn mule.  He wants what he wants and he sees no other thing besides it.  And that is why, in the days that followed, it was also quite unfortunate that he did not see reason when a few arrows came zinging his way.

"Perhaps if I planted one on his ass..."

"Elena!  Are you seriously doing this again?!"

Enter the responsible husband, exeunt Mr. Clandish.  Sigh.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

"And she's always been this way?"

"Of course she has!  She sets her mind on something and fires arrows at it until she gets it!"

"Calm down, dad.  It can't be that bad.  You married her."

There was a time when his father's dread glare scared the bejeesus out of him.  Now, it simply unnerved him, but that didn't mean he liked to be on the receiving end of it!  They were in his study, their study...until he passed on.  The old man had not had troubles with the lady of the house, per se, but even the strongest of marriages have their trying points.  It was clear to Arden that perhaps he may have misjudged something, because that was Elric's famous Killing Glare he was lookin' at now.

"I'm afraid you don't understand.  The arrow thing is no mere hobby, but her means of winning an argument, or any confrontation, if she feels the need.  I met her this way.  Shot me an arrow with a note attached, saying 'I get off of work in an hour.  How about a drink?'.

"And this worked?"

"I was young and impressionable, plus I was fairly certain I could see a few rejection arrows already nocked."

"How in the hell has she never been arrested for this?  And don't tell me it's down to status.  Nobody is above the law."

The old man sighed in frustration.

"People have tried.  Mind you, the people she generally does this to are bad people, but they're still entitled to justice if they can get it.  It's just that they won't.  She beats the charge, every time.  Nobody was hurt, no malice intended, never through negligance, not considered unsafe-"

"You have got to be kidding me.  How is it not unsafe?"

"Perfect aim, every time."

"Was she secretly trained by elves?"

"I think she was secretly trained by assassins, but tell her I said that."

"What're you gonna do?"

"I've had no success in getting her to leave people alone, deserving or not.  It's that righteous flavor of it that does it. She maintains moral highground on the matter, and as long as she does...I can do nothing.  I must appeal to a higher authority."

There was a pause in silence, then...

"You're talking about me, aren't you?"

"I'm talking about you."

"Why me?"

"Master of the house."

You...don't want to hear Arden's response to that.  No really, you don't.  There's enough four-letter words there to cover a Scrabble board and reach a revolutionary score.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Zwiiip!

We now join Elena's daily target practice, already in progress.  She stood a fair distance from the targets, emptying her quiver at the bullseyes, many times hitting precisely where she wanted to...if not nearly there.  Elena Goldswith did not have much in the way of combat prowess, but this was one thing she could do very well.  Arden now came onto the scene to talk.

"Alright, mom.  The jig is up.  We know what you're up to and it isn't right, doing it."

"Oh, isn't it now?  I'm only negotiating for the rights of my friends in the union."

"Negotiations are handled with words."

"Words and deeds, dear.  I simply excell in the latter category."

"Well, I think it's time you took it to the law, instead of waiting for the law to argue with you in futility about launching arrows at people."

"Your statement does not convince me that the law is very strong in this regard.  You just said they can't talk down an old lady."

"A stubborn old lady."

This made her laugh, but her last arrow in the quiver still hit her intended target.  She now went to go collect them all, which of course took a while.

"You speak the truth, Arden, but only because I don't back down from a good cause.  Clandish is wrong, pure and simple, and that needs to be addressed properly."

"Then, use the law against him.  That's how it's done."

"Ah, so I should be firing at a judge, then?"

"No, you should talk to a judge."

"I think what I should do is appeal to a magistrate."

"If you're about to say-"

"So, what're you gonna do about it, son?"

Arden gave her a sour look.

"I'm in charge of the mines.  The town magistrate is another guy.  Now, if I go talk to him-"

"He will say 'Clandish's company is allowed to make its own rules, as long as it is not inhuman or cruel by an acceptable definition of either'.  I know the law.  They don't care of it's unfair, only if it goes too far.  Go twist the man's arm and you'll get results.  Otherwise, you're wasting my time."

This was a conundrum.  Mr. Clandish was, in fact, a horrid little man and his mother was certainly in the right to despise him, but he was about as monstrously stubborn as she was.  He would not respond to normal coercion, no matter what.  He needed...a master's stroke.  And wouldn't you know it?  Arden just got one.

"Well then, how about we do this?"

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Avery Clandish was one of those people with a grumbly disposition who barely made it through the day without muttering on about this and that, and just about everything under the sun that was bothering him.  He made a point not to bug anybody else about it, because if it was annoying him that much, how much could they like it?  However, there were certain things that made him ultimately more vocal.  Exhibit A: Elena Goldswith, whom he had just attempted to get arrested, but could not get any action on due to the fact that they had been through such a process no less than fifty times with her, and it never gets anywhere unless she actually hurts someone or intends upon doing harm.

"Isn't harming my sales and getting on my last nerve enough for you people?!"

It was not, and furthermore his employees kept bothering him about things which he said 'No' to because it was not policy and he did not want it to be policy.  However, today...as he stepped into the workplace...he found two things curiously absent.  The first was, of course, Elena Goldswith, launching arrows at him.  The second was, however, his entire workforce.  Nobody was here.  Nobody.  Not even the tea lady, who was rather good at calming his nerves.  In their place was a single note, held up onto a wall with a single arrow.

Gone to the mine.

Signed,
Everybody

You don't want to know just how Mr. Clandish responded to this.  It involves more four-letter words than that Scrabble board has room for!  However, he managed to reduce levels of anger to simple fury once he reached the afore-mentioned mines, where he found a great deal of women serving food and drink, mending things, tending to any injuries, assisting the Runners, organizing, and so on.  Upon his shouting at any of them, they informed him that they all quit and that they'd have to take matters up with their new boss.

"And just who IS the boss?"

"That would be me."

Arden Goldswith, in his working clothes and black jacket, leaning on his sword that's sticking out of the ground with a smile.  Elena was, in fact, having a cup of tea nearby.  Mr. Clandish decided to direct his unfettered rage in the appropriate direction.

"Just what do you think you're doing?  These women have a binding contract with my company!  It is signed and legal and you cannot simply do as you like with it!"

"Well, actually, they can...in a way.  You see, your contract is, of course, in regards to the ownership and support - namely payment, among other things - of the Zefras Seamstress Union.  In accordance with the feelings of unfairness in the contract, the union decided to leave work without pay to seek better ventures.  Anticipating that the response to any unruly employee is to fire them, I hired them into the Terrin Mountain Mines, of which I am the total authority on.  I now employ virtually every seamstress in the given area."

"You devil son-of-a-bitch!  This is a blatant disregard for the law and you know it!"

"Well, according to my advisor of the law, this is not so."

"And who is this person?"

Elena looked up from her tea and gave him a smart little wave, which predicated Mr. Clandish's fuming.  There were several minutes of him being incapable of speech before a dam finally broke.

"You people are the worst kind of authority I have ever seen!  Does your abuse know no bounds?!  I have rights, damn you!  Rights that I have checked with the law to prove that they are mine to wield as I so desire!  That is the way things work!  I'll have the town magistrate over here and we'll SEE who's in the right!"

Or, we could save time by having the magistrate here take care of it right now.  Arden gave him a rather hard glare.  He's been working on a fiercesome look for himself.

"Mr. Clandish, I have a long sword and a short temper.  Would you care to test one of them?  Or would you like to talk sense, like giving your employees a break, for gods' sake?"

The look didn't put him in his place, but the veiled threat gave him pause long enough for reason to set itself in just ahead of another bout of anger.  This may not have been worth a giant legal war, certainly not if this taller man was willing to flatten him over it.  He growled with irritation, and then relented.

"Alright, fine!  But no more arrows!  No more fucking arrows, and I want that in writing!"

"I...think we can accommodate you there."

The town of Zefras, the lands around, and the Terrin Mine are all part of one tightly-bound community.  It gets along, for the most part, though sometimes it's frustrating to the point of exhaustion.  In the end, however, it somehow works itself out.

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