Theft from Nobility

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Theft from Nobility

by Reemy » Mon Jun 29, 2015 11:58 am

Hello! Just wanted to post a snippet of RP here from when I lead a fairly large and wealthy merchant guild on another private server. The only bit of context that you may need to know is that Norrick is the lead of this company, and at one point during a harsh winter, he won over a large number of Alterac refugees by giving out loads of cloths for free. These refugees now work for him.

If you'd like to RP with me in game, let me know!


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The room was darkening, the dimming candlelight slowly burning down to nothing. The last bit of flame flickering desperately, as if struggling to stay afloat in the pool of wax – drowning; slowly being snuffed out.

‘How funny’, she thought, watching the candle’s last gasping breaths. Reflecting on the pain she felt every day, smothered by a relationship which provided a complete lack of passion, and an absence of warmth.

The table was set for two, an intricate set of china with beautiful carvings in each plate, cup, and bowl. Steam poured off of the darkened and seasoned stuffed duck no longer. The green bean casserole had stiffened, the crisp onions sprinkled atop had moistened to an unsavory texture, meshing with the rest of the dish.

The plate before the woman was dirtied, but empty. She held her fork absently, her gaze traveling from the dying candle to the second plate – untouched. Her sad face formed a slight smile, making a personal internal jest as she pushed her chair back and slowly stood to clean the dinner table.

She stacked the dishes and carried them toward the kitchen, opening the door and almost bumping into a servant. The maid lowered her head immediately, “I apologize m’lady. I should be more careful.”

The sad woman shook her head, her soft blue eyes resting upon the maid; gentle fingers brushing a lock of brown hair from her beautiful face. “Fret not, unless you plan to develop eyesight that can see through solid doors, such mistakes happen.” She adjusted the dishes casually as she spoke, drawing the attention of the maid.

“Please, let me take those for you m’lady. It’s the least I can do.” She extended her hands, looking at her in almost a pleading manner.

Again, the sorrowful maiden shook her head, “You are too kind, Isabell, but I can do my own dishes tonight.”

Isabell retracted her hands, adopting her natural submissive and introverted pose. “Of course, Lady Winterbane. As you wish.” She dipped her head and carried along; exiting through the door Lady Winterbane had entered from.

A long breath exited the Lady’s lips, continuing down the hallway, her eyes traveling across the intricate paintings and knick-knacks hung along at. A painting of herself and her three children caused her to pause, a smile of true happiness spreading through her features. Though brief, the smile was refreshing. It was not something she experienced very often.

Carrying on, she passed the door she dared not enter, beyond it; she could hear the angry muttering of her husband

~ * ~

Norrick Winterbane sat in his fine leather chair, his elbows resting on an elaborate cherry wood desk gilded in eloquent golden swirling designs. His fingers kneaded his forehead in frustration, his brow narrowed and lips pursed. His blonde hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail, his brown eyes resting on the paperwork before him. Parchment was scattered about the table, stacks reaching at least two meters in height. Small piles of gold and silver coins were scattered about, though through the madness one could tell there was a system – a sort of organized chaos.

One of his hands fell to the parchment, fingers gliding across the written text. Each account receivable, each documented transaction.

Wrong.

Something was wrong.

His fist clenched, the realization slowly settling in.

“Someone is stealing from me.” He muttered venomously.

For a long moment, he simmered, his dark brown gaze locked on the erroneous documents before him. Suddenly – he threw a hand forward and swiped viciously at his mess of a desk, scattering coins and paper all across his office with a loud clatter. He pushed his chair back and kicked violently at his desk, causing a large scuff from his hardened leather boots. He shouted, “I give you everything!”

He threw another arm across his desk, scattering more parchment and coins across the office. “Income…” Norrick drove both fists onto the finished cherry wood top, a loud thumb sounding, “A roof over your miserable heads…” he finally rose and turned, grabbing the arms of his chair and flinging it against a wall, two of the legs exploding into splinters and horribly maiming the leather upholstery. “A purpose! I gave you everything! And you steal what is mine?!” He bit down on his lower lip, quite hard; seething in rage as he stared at his destroyed office. His breath was deep and ragged; the only noise audible was the sound of his own pounding heart.

Winterbane took a long, deep breath, closing his eyes. He imagined the towering mountains of his home, the icy peaks barely holding life. His people, scrounging to stay alive, his king resting comfortably at the top of his corrupted court, eating well and staying warm as his subjects suffered. He remembered the day Norrick bought hundreds of pairs of gloves and gave them out to the people. Boots, pants, shirts. Heavy wool, woven and imported directly from Elwyn. He spared no expense, ensuring every man woman and child had what they needed to survive the winter.

"And yet..." He spoke, gritting his teeth. "It was not enough."

He rested his hands on his desk, his shoulders hunching as they bore the burden of all his stress and worries. "We will find this parasite." He spoke in a hiss of venom, "And we will purge their lineage, and salt the earth. Then - only then will they know what happens to those who take from the Four Winds Trading Company."
Reemy
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Re: Theft from Nobility

by Avenhold » Tue Jun 30, 2015 10:58 am

Very sharp Reemy! Are you forging the trading company here as well? I'd like to hear more of this story, perhaps even see it turned into an event?? What a delightful mystery.
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Grongin, Beardling of Anvilmar
Marados, Student of Magic
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