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Early Morning, Eleint 5th Moon Dancer quietly turned the lock on the side door, trying not to wake any Patrons that Rhys may have given board for the night, then put the key back in his pants pocket. He never knew whether Patrons were spending the night, but it was better than waking a Patron with a hangover. "Perhaps I should come up with a signal," he thought, as he walked across the Hall's common area. He looked at his office door, and he visibly lost some of the spring in his step. As much as he enjoyed having the Hall open, enjoyed seeing his friends again, he hated the paperwork. There was so much of it; the Merchant's Guild needed weekly and monthly tabulations of gross sales and wage reports. The Dock Master needed monthly consumption figures for meade and ale, to keep some of the more common libations in stock. Granted, the Hall could find meade and ale from any number of quasi-mystical sources, but the dockmasters and ship captains would find it very odd that the Meade Hall, quickly becoming the busy tavern that it once was, never needed any supplies from outside its walls. Dancer sighed, and looked at the pile of papers on his desk. His excursions to see his pack were a welcome change from the daily doldrums of working in this office, but returning to the work he left behind always made everything here so much more ... weighty? That wasn't the right word, but it was the best feeling Moon Dancer could put on it. "How did Sealgair do it," Dancer thought? Moon Dancer sat in his chair, and looked out of the office door to the common room. The moon shone in from out in the street, leaving a pale light cast across the top of the bar. Moon Dancer shook his head, lost in thought. He couldn't just close the Hall, not after opening it again so recently. Rhys and Adam were helping, and perhaps he'd ask Drachnaerbaen if he wanted to spend a few shifts behind the bar. Still, even with their help, it was difficult to make time for his family with all the paperwork he had in front of him. Again, Dancer started thinking of Sealgair. He'd hired Moon Dancer, and both trusted him and took him in when few people in Marsember would give him the time of day. Remembering Sealgair's generosity and unwavering friendship steeled Moon Dancer's resolve. No, he would not close the Hall. If Sealgair ran this place when it was twice as busy, surely he could do it now. Moon Dancer smiled, and looked above the hearth at Sealgair's twin swords, a daily reminder that Sealgair... They weren't there. Dancer closed his eyes, making sure they hadn't deceived him. When he opened them again, the two blades were still not there. The faint outline of where they had hung for so many years still remained, but in their place was empty air. Quickly, nervously, Moon Dancer rose. Perhaps they had fallen on the floor, he thought, though in the back of his mind he knew it wasn't true. His suspicions were confirmed when he took two steps out the door, and they weren't there. Quickly becoming more upset, he turned back into his office. Perhaps Rhys had borrowed them for study. Being a mage, and the blades being innately magical, perhaps he had borrowed them, and left a note on his desk. Dancer looked at the notes and letters on top of his desk, then began tossing them to the floor, scouring all the papers on his desk. No note. He flung his hand across the top of the desk, knocking everything to the floor. He stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He strode angrily to the bar, looking for a note there. Finding none, he looked underneath the bar, pushing bottles aside haphazardly. Several shattered when they hit the floor, but Moon Dancer seemed not to notice. Dancer stood, furious. He knew he should have begun checking the backgrounds of the people he hired more thoroughly, but he hadn't had the time when he hired Rhys. "Dammit!" he yelled, to no one in particular. He picked up a bottle of some heft and threw it against the hearth, hoping that by hitting the stones above the fireplace that the blades would somehow reappear. When they did not, he stormed back to his office, and opened the door. As the door to the office came off its hinges, Moon Dancer tossed it idly aside. He picked up his travel pack, and his klaive, which he strapped to his side. He then picked up his bag of talismen and charms, and muttered a few words in his tribe's tongue - something he hadn't done in months. Taking one last rage-coated glance around the Hall to confirm his worst fears, Moon Dancer strode to the hearth, and surprised himself when he placed his hand on the mantle. His furred, clawed hand stared back at him, and he realized that he had shifted without thinking. "Damn," he said again, though somewhat quieter. How could he have left the Hall in the hands of... It was no matter. He had a job to do, and someone to find. He raked his claws across the place where Sealgair's swords had hung for so long, leaving deep grooves in the rock itself. "I will find them, my friend. Even if I die in the process, I'll find them. After all, I did promise." Moon Dancer walked out of the Hall and into the night, and even Death himself stepped aside when Moon Dancer passed. |
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