(2018-03-27) PRP: The Sound of Silence
The Sound of Silence
Summary: Audgrim goes in hunt of a hedge smith.
Date: IC Date (2018-03-27)
Related: Related Logs http://darkwater.wikidot.com/log:2018-03-29-hot-date
Player Characters: Audgrim, Bea as ST

It's a lovely day for a trip in the hedge. Which is to say, the thorns are ominously clingy, there are eyes large and small peering out hungrily, and the occasional rumble of the ground as something overly large passes by. Audgrim and Bea manage with only a minor mishap or two. A mis-step causes Audgrim to get sucked into a pool of quicksand-like mud, and he's just feeling the nibbles on his toes through his shoes when Bea manages to pry his leg out. A couple moments where even happy, cheerful Bea can only advise "Run!" …

But eventually the pair of Beasts find themselves in front of a circle of colorful wagons, the homes of a travelling camp of hobs, who watch the pair with wary interest. There is no talk among the obese, tiny-eyed hobs, even as those not focused on Audgrim and Bea go about their business.

Bea smiles at Audgrim and waves toward the caravan, "I told you there was some gang here. Why don't you explore a little.." She is already distracted, eyeing the carcass of some strange 6-legged beast that's being dressed nearby.

Along the way, Audgrim pricks his thumb on a thorn - just in case. He knows just the bare minimum of surviving here, and barely does when he's getting sucked down like that, only saved by Bea and an ability to run very fast.

Arriving to the camp, he's a bit dishevelled but brushes off some sand, some clingy plants and runs hands through his hair. Best to look a bit more presentable, not that the hobs necessarily care what some Lost looks like. "Alright, thanks Bea," he rasps, and he starts a stroll through the camp, tail swishing. He's wary but curious, looking for anything of interest, or for some hob to approach and talk to.

As Audgrim looks around, he notices something…Or perhaps more accurately, a /lack/ of something. There is no vocalization among the hob troupe. For the most part, they seem to communicate through subtle body language and simply being well-attuned to one another. However, as Audgrim progresses through the circle of maybe 15 or so wooden wagons, he gets this weird tingle in his ears. It's a strange sensation, as if his eardrums are being vibrated, but no noise is causing it. As he focuses on it, his musical nature picks up on the different 'tones', for lack of a better word, of the vibration. From a small hob who looks child-like, a slightly faster vibration; from an elderly one so obese his wagon has become the only way he can move, a low and slow vibration.

Audgrim stops in his tracks, and tilts his head; he closes his eyes and listens. He tries to figure out what is going on around himself by senses alone. How is he going to communicate with them?

He could always communicate with music, maybe that's the key. He gets that violin out and begins plucking at the strings with his claws, to find the notes he's hearing, walking over to the children to begin with. Assumedly they can at least /hear/ him - let's see how this goes. If it seems like they do, he can start this whole venture by putting up a show.

The small hob, a creature so obese he looks like a slightly under-inflated basketball, with two tiny eyes and slits for a nose. He actually lacks a mouth entirely, whatever strange vibration they use to communicate clearly requiring no lips and tongue to accomplish. The little ball of hob watches with interest, at the first pluck, he tumbles back in surprise at the noise, rolling over and getting stuck like a turtle on its back. The vibration in the back of Audgrim's ears turns from a sense of excitement, to a sensation of surprise that quickly turns to distress. However, a wave like a shivery up the spine washes over him, a vague sense of amusement from all directions.

Audgrim didn't mean to scare a kid, no matter if it's a hob one - his eyes widen and he moves back a bit, raising a hand in a 'I'm not going to hurt you'-gesture. But at that wave of amusement from the rest, he grins and moves to a spot where he's more at central stage. Now he takes out the bow as well, and he listens a bit longer to the vibrating hums; he can almost mimic this on the violin. It is, after all, vibrations. And he's sensed quite a few sensations to have an idea of it. It won't be perfect - but he's having some fun with this. Hopefully he won't play something really insulting.

So, he tries to play the amusement back at the village. And the excitement. Those are mostly positive emotions. He walks around as he does, and watches the adult hobs for their reactions. He hasn't tried talking to them - he asks with a level voice: "You understand me?"

There's mixed reactions to Audgrim's playing, but it generally seems to be well-received. The vibration starts to almost wobble, the vibrational equivalent of rapid chatter. And then he speaks, and it all stops immediately, leaving a strange void of sensation where the vibrational chatter had been. It's almost a synchronized act, as all of the hobs turn and enter their wagons, shutting the doors and leaving Audgrim almost alone…Save that one hob child who's still stuck on his back. And at the very far edge of the camp, a flare of fire and a flash of movement, whatever the source hidden behind a metal-sheathed wagon.

Well, bugger. Audgrim lowers the violin and turns around, watching the hobs hide away. Sometimes, it's better just to shut up and let the music talk. He eyes the up-ended child for a moment as if considering helping, but decides he probably shouldn't also touch one of them. He instead walks towards the flare of fire and flash of movement, eyes narrowing in suspicion and alarm. Just in case, he keep quiet as he slowly walks around the wagon to see if he can find what is going on.

The poor little ball of hob child continues to wriggle and flop around, eventually seeming to get a motion going that will someday get him flipped upright again. Meanwhile, as Audgrim circles around the metal-clad caravan, he sees a mobile smithy of sorts. And, perhaps surprising, a Changeling at the bellows. Short and stooped, hands burned black from soot, eyes the color of molten metal, she's definitely a Wizened, and seems too focused on quietly stoking the fire to notice Audgrim just yet.

Audgrim quickly checks that this Lost has a mouth. He packs his violin up and steps out visibly, not wanting to startle someone. Especially not someone with access to fire and sharp objects. "Hello," he says, keeping his voice /very/ low, not wanting to cause a ruckus. It's followed with a charming grin and a disarming disposition.

The Wizened woman turns around, frowning deeply…with her mouth that is definitely there. She drops the bellows in her hand and gives Audgrim a suspicious look. She seems to take a long time to process his presence, looking him up and down, then looking around at the now empty camp, back to Audgrim. She finally speaks, clearly out of practice with the act, her voice low and raspy, barely above a whisper, "It's rude to speak," she informs him, in the tone of a local telling a foreign traveler that the gesture they just made means something /very/ different in the current location.

Audgrim's grin turns into a more normal friendly smile, tail dancing with apparent joy. Someone he can talk to, that makes things easier. "I noticed," he whispers back, moving closer so the two don't have to raise their voices much at all. "Old habit. Can you let them know I am sorry?" He looks curiously at the forge. "I am Audgrim Larsen," he whispers in a pleasant husky rasp, "and I came here to look for armor."

The request to convey a message gets a little shrug, but after a moment he gets that tingling sensation again deep in his ears. It's oddly…incorrect, as if it's done with an accent. The ball of a child seems to have managed to get back to his stubby feet, and hides himself around the edge of the wagon, watching the pair of Lost with a nervous curiousity.

The message apparently sent, the Wizened looks to Audgrim again, just watching him with a sort of 'yeah, and?' expression of expectation. After a long, awkward length of silence, she manages to roust a, "I have none for you," it's not a rejection, simply a fact, which she illustrates with a wave of her hand. What wares she does seem to have to hand are clearly all designed for the ball-people, and seem mostly domestic in nature- pots and utensils and the like. She seems a bit tired already from the conversation, but adds with a sigh, "I could."

Audgrim gives the Wizened a thank you gesture, silent - he puts his palms together and bows a little. He saw that in a movie and was quite impressed with the impact it had, and he does a good job of showing gratitude. "I will find the things for armor," he whispers, "and bring them to you. I do not have many things to pay with - but I can make you a song on violin, and all things I find that not use for armor, they are yours." He squints back at the little child hob, and winks at him and his tail does funny patterns; he turns back to the Wizened. "Is this good price?"

The Smith shrugs again and considers the offered trade. Without any indication as to whether or not she accepts the trade, she moves over to a table. Grabbing a charred bit of wood and a scrap of leather, she awkardly begins to write, a process almost, but not quite as laborious as talking. After a few minutes she hands the sooty scrap to him. On it, a short list.
Armor: Headwater from Eridanus- 1 litre. Scales of cloud forest dragon. Roots of terror tree.

Below this list, the words "Payment: To be decided"

She waits as Audgrim examines the list, clearly waiting to see if he agrees.

Audgrim wanders closer, as he still wants to be near enough to only whisper, but says nothing as she writes and he isn't hovering over her shoulder while she does. Accepting the list, he holds it up with two hands - like someone reading a proclamation. He squints at it, tail flicking a bit uncertainly. He lowers it and carefully clears his voice. "To be decided? Hmm. Agreed. You happen to know where to find the things on list?" he whispers. She knows what she needs, she might know where to find it too!

The wizened shrugs and waves a hand generally toward the trod, as if that's as much direction as she has to offer. After taking a long moment to work the bellows, causing heat to ripple out from the fire, she leans in to whisper, "Up." So helpful. a few beats and she adds, "One moon," tapping her wrist like a watch, then motioning toward the caravan, perhaps indicating how long the trouple will be in the area.

Audgrim folds the list carefully and tucks it inside an inner pocket of his coat. He even buttons the button - he's so not losing this. He gives an affirmative nod, shoots the wizened another charming grin and then waves her tail before he turns about and takes out his violin again. Playing as he walks, he goes to see if any of the hobs will come out again, and if Bea is around.

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