Gypsies, tramps, and thieves - multiplayer

[intriguess]

Setting: pre industrial, think hunchback of notre dame, where gypsies were tinkerers, travelers, traders, dancers, performers, and palm readers. And if they picked your pocket while you were mesmerized by the beautiful dancers, well it was your fault for having a heavy purse.

Characters: Gypsies, town people, and if you really want I suppose I could tolerate a investigator or religious inquisitor but I don't want the thread to go persecution heavy, oh and the gypsy women WILL NOT be prostitutes.

Location: I like france but seeing that everyone will be speaking english and most probably have a passing knowledge of british history...the location will be a generic township annual fair. Big party, lots of traders, partying, entertainment, and drinkers.

So pick a character spin a little history, who they are why they are here that sort of thing and let the merriment commence.

 

[CountV]

is this the idea:

Name: Hidden

Age: 20

Ocupation: Storyteller

Appearance: black hair and green eyes. Tanned skin, average height and thin but fit from a few acrobatic stunts.

Background: Noone seems to remember when he joined the fair, it seems somehow like he was always there. To amaze people with stories is what he likes, to make people laugh and have a good time is what he loves. The fair gives him the chance to do that. So he makes sure to lure in a big audience whenever they arrive, and makes time to gather new stories to increase his repertory.

Skills: Besides being an expert storyteller, he can easily disguise himself and imitate voices. Also he can pull a few magician tricks.

------------------
It was longer but my computer crashed and I had to redo it so I forgot half of what I wrote

 

[cati]

Morgiana had come from a long line of fortune telling women, it was her mother and her mother's mother who had passed down the mysterious talents to their offspring. Morgiana's mother was expert in palm reading, while the girls' grandmother on her father's side was said to possess "the second sight" and would enthusiastically entertain her few customers in an overly dramatic fashion by peering into the large quartz crystal ball displayed on the table in front of her. Morgiana had loved her Grandmother, she had had a lively sense of humour and possessed the wisdom of her ninety four years. But as fate would have it the old lady had passed away when the girl was just fifteen.

Morgiana on the other hand, had chosen the tarot. It pleased her to no end to watch the faces of the people as she told them what the future held in store for them. She would ask the man or woman if they had a problem that they wished to resolve, if the answer was "yes", which it most often was, Morgiana would nod her head in understanding, close her eyes just enough, and would proceed to ask her inner guide for advice.

 

[intriguess]

Merine felt older than her scant twenty plus years, time passed strangely for the gypsy tribe. Days flew by at times and other times travelling in the rain days dragged on, so her exact birthday and age was a mystery. She was exotically lovely, she could just as easily steal your heart as your money. She was a dancer lithe and mysterious, her long dark curls tumbling to her waist. She had the gift, but lies didn't roll off her tongue, in fact her tongue was painfully blunt at times. This had not only gotten her in trouble, but also had broken many hearts.

A new place, a fresh start, she loved the smells, tastes, and sights of a new place.



OOC

do I need to have a OOC thread linked to this one for basic info?

 

[tighe]

Berto

Berto rubbed the fine wood of his guitar and began to tune the new strings. They were tight. He was careful not to stretch them too quickly. The guitar was old, the only thing of his father's that he was able to save from the blazing fire that destroyed his home and family during the cleansing. He had been only a child and was sent to live with a gadji family in a community near the valley where he had lived before the slaughter of his family. When he had gotten a few years older he had stolen a fine white Andalusion horse in the night, shouldered his guitar and had run from the family who had enjoyed punishing him with beatings and humiliation. Now Berto traveled with a troupe who had adopted him and loved him unconditionally. In the true way of the Roms he owned little and cherished all. He was a musician, as his father had been, and a horseman.

 

[intriguess]

http://forum.literotica.com/showthread.php?p=27916004#post27916004

created an OOC thread

Will give thread a week for people to join, then will try and get the action rolling

 

[cati]

sounds good to me.

 

[Tarakin]

Kayal balanced one of his knifes on his index finger when he left his waggon. A new town was to be enchanted with his skills and his charms, and he looked forward to it. Out of habit he trained his arts, replacing the knife with a rose and vice versa. It was the only little trick he know of the chimerstry arts, but it was always impressing the crowds even before he started to throw his knifes.

Ah, life was good, the kives were sharp and the air was fresh!

 

[tighe]

Berto

ooc: just to bump this one up we'll be sitting around camp waiting for the rest of the troupe to join us before going to the fair together

Berto finished tuning the guitar and wandered to the camp fire. it was dusk. Not everyone had made it to the new camp yet and the troupe was relaxing, waiting for all to arrive. Berto knew there were a few who did not travel as easily these days and it required a bit longer to group together. A few had gone ahead to prepare a campsite, procure a few necessities and make some needed repairs to wagons and vardos. He shook hands with an older gentleman and joined him on the long log pulled up to the fire. He placed the guitar beside him and thanked the woman for the bowl of soup she handed him. She smiled and he nodded. As he blew the steam from the wooden bowl he stared at the embers of the fire, crackling to life in the twilight. It would be cooler tonight. From the corner of his eye he glimpsed a shadow standing before a man off to his left. The shadow stood a long minute before dissolving. Sometimes Berto wished he had no vision for these shadows. He finished the soup and picked up the guitar to strum soft lullabyes to the camp in general. They waited.

 

[intriguess]

Merine and her group made it to the settlement, not that gypsies ever really settled, but this would be thier home for the week or so that the fair lasted. She found a relatively quiet spot for her horse and trailer. She took care of her animal before following her nose to the communal cooking spot. She got something to eat and listened as those around her talked about the town and plans for locations, making money, and other sorts of things. She tended to walk the crowd on the first day when purses were fat and crowds were high. She'd find a place to perform and hopefully a musician for later in the week.

She greeted a few old friends as she finished her meal. Then she was off to see if she could find someone to fix up her dancing shoes, and perhaps trade for a few more colorful scarves. The social hour had begun.

 

[CountV]

The Storyteller

Humming softly I make my way to new settlement, I always travelled the last bit alone, so as to keep everyone, including my peers at the fair feeling like I was just showing up... not that I enjoyed staying much in one place either.

As I arrive I give the usual greetings, and begin to search for familiar faces... or maybe new female and friendly faces

 

[tighe]

Berto watched as the last of the troupe made their way into the encampment. It was good to see everyone had made it alright. His only concern was for the man who had been watched by the shadow just earlier. Many times those whose shadows stood before them never saw the morning. He shook his head to clear the thought and returned his bowl to the women who tended the cooking this day. Taking his guitar he returned it to his vardo and picked out a silken scarf he had acquired at the last stop. He kept a few around as decorations and because they reminded him of the beauty in life. He had seen Merine at the fire and knew she enjoyed the scarves as she danced. He quietly moved to her wagon. He would leave the scarf, but he also wanted to see that the wheel he had repaired sometime back was holding up. The horse nickered softly at him. "Easy boy." Berto tapped his shoulder. Merine took care of her horse and it showed. The wheel was just before the horse's strong front leg and he knelt to see about the repair. The spoke that had been replaced was still holding well. While he was there he picked up the horse's feet and inspected each hoof. All was well. No stones or sore places. Pleased with his silent inspection, Berto tied the scarf to the handle of the door and returned to the fire. The strong laughter of the men brought a smile to Berto's face but it quickly faded. Though he was a happy person, smiles did not come easily for him, unless he was working the crowds.

 

[intriguess]

Merine

Her favorite cobbler was more than happy to fix up her shoes. On the other hand, she didn't seem to be able to find any scarves that caught her eye, there were many over done gaudy bits to trap a townies eye, most of some equally gaudy material. She snagged a fresh baked roll with a bit of honey on her way back to her wagon. Her horse was happily grazing and then she noticed the luscious silken scarf. She gently untied it, and brought it to her nose, checking to see if a familiar scent lingered.

She dusted the crumbs from her fingers as she entered her wagon, taking a moment to enjoy the darkness before lighting a lantern. She laid the scarf gently across a small chair. Merine was tired and she slipped off her clothes and washed up. She was debating slipping under the covers naked when the scarf again caught her eye. She let the fabric slip and slid over her skin as she laid down and gently blew out her light for the night.

 

[tighe]

Berto

It was very dark as Berto found his way to his wagon. He checked his own horse and fed it the carrot he had picked up at the cooking area from the older woman who gave him the treats for a quick wink of the eye and a small joke about her beauty. The steps creaked as he went inside and lit the candle on the stand at the door. He decided he would bathe in the stream in the morning as he pulled off the shirt he had worn this week. It would require a cleaning as well. Sitting on the bed he pulled off the leather boots and wiggled his toes. It felt so good to be free of the hot footwear. He removed the small leather bag from his neck where he kept his charms to prevent bibaxt, bad luck. Like all Roma people he was very superstitious. For this reason, that he saw mulo', spirits, made him wary of too much social interaction for fear of being shunned by his troupe. He preferred to keep this to himself as much as possible. The few who knew understood. Finally he finished undressing and spread himself across the linens of his bed. He sighed and closed his eyes, hoping he slept through the night without the terrors he often faced in his dreams. Outside an owl began to call as Berto drifted to sleep and he thought he felt silk dragging across his chest.

 

[intriguess]

She slept lightly, a slight breeze causing the scarf to ripple across her skin like a lover's touch. The sounds of the night echoed in her dreams. The warmth of the rising sun woke her. She had placed her home deliberately to catch the morning sun. So she'd only gotten a few hours sleep, she could always rest in the heat of afternoon. She slowly sat up and raised her arms, the silk scarf drifting down her body. Merine picked it up and smiled, it was going to be a beautiful day. She had a feeling.

She slipped into her clothes and gathered a few things to offer for breakfast. She stretched out and slipped on some boots before following her nose to the cooking area. The great thing about communal living was she never had to cook unless she wanted to and she still got to eat a warm meal.

 

[cati]

"Another fair, another swindle" that's what her father used to say each time the gypsies rolled their wagons into a new town. Morgiana had quite a different view of the family business, she had never thought of fortune telling as swindling, the people got what they wanted and she made a few dollars giving it to them. Anything else was of little concern to her.
Peering through the thin piece of lace fabric that served as a curtain, she watched through the tiny window as the others went about their usual morning activities.
The girl still had a few hours before she had to get her private things in order, until then she lay back in the comfort of her bed, thinking that perhaps this would be the night...

 

[tighe]

He heard the loud cackle and saw the deeply etched face of the hag as she bellowed. He watched as her crooked finger pointed away from him. Flames shot up behind her against a dark sky as he saw torch carrying riders in the night. He heard the hoofbeats pounding away as he looked again at the flames. Then the hag had pointed at him and began to laugh. Berto sat straight up, blinking against the morning sun streaming through the small cracks between the wooden sides of his vardo. Again he heard the cackle and realized it was the women preparing breakfast for the day. He caught his breath and shoved his hair back almost angrily. At least he had made it to daylight before his dreams began. Many nights his dreams woke him in the darkness, leaving him feeling like a little boy, afraid to move and needing to run. He had walked many camps in the night to stop the dreams and finished the darkness as the first to build a fire for morning. This time he had made it to daylight.
He put his feet on the floor and held his head in his hands. He often wished they would stop, but he had seen too much as a child. He would be haunted for an eternity. His hair fell into his face as he pulled on his boots and the clean shirt he had saved. Tossing the dirty one over his shoulder he stepped out into the morning and strode to the stream. Checking around he noticed no one and stripped down to step into the cold water. It immediately cleared his head and he quickly rinsed away the dust he felt. He wet his hair, rinsing it many times in the fresh water and stepped onto the bank. He shook his head and slung water everywhere. Sitting down he used the dirty shirt to dry, then redressed in the fresher shirt. He dunked the other shirt into the water and swished it around. Maybe he could find a new shirt to buy at the fair. It was definitely time to replace one. He struggled with the boots then returned to camp. He looked around at the few people who were gathering for the morning meal. The man he had noticed the night before was not yet among them. Perhaps the shadow he had seen was only a loved one watching over a family member. Berto sensed no feelings of loss as he often did when a troupe member passed. He would watch for the man today.
A wisp of dark hair caught his eye and he noticed Merine as she went to the fire. Her gentle movement lightened his mood and he smiled to himself. Maybe today would be a good day after all.

 

[CountV]

The Storyteller

From afar I had seen the beautiful fortune teller peeking out her tiny window.

I make my way towards her, it was always good to talk to the one that would introduce magic in the fair, it helped me tailor my stories so that everything was in synch, and every teller had their own different style, and it chaged a bit everytime I met them

I make my way towards her place

"Morgiana..." I whisper softly, as I knock gently not wanting to cause a rude awakening in case she was sleeping soundly.

 

[intriguess]

Merine

She managed a hot bowl, a cup of fresh milk and a container of tea and pastries for later. She planned to scout out the town early while people were still setting up. She fiddled with her hair letting the silky black strands curl wildly about her head. She finished her bowl and returned it to the cooks, thanked them for the meal, and smiled. Nothing like having someone else wash the dishes while she was at it.

She heard music and wandered through the camp, seeking out the musician plucking out the strangely melancholy and melodic tune. It sounded familiar and discordant, and she was drawn to the sound of a very familiar man tuning his instrument.

"Berto," she should have known that such plaintiff sounds could only come from his instrument. She knew of him long before she had known him, their paths had crossed but never entwined, though both might have wished otherwise. She instantly knew the scarf had been from him and was already thinking of how she might return the favor.

 

[tighe]

Berto looked up and saw Merine standing before him. "New strings." He told her. "They have already stretched out again." He finished tuning the last peg, sat the guitar beside him and scooted over on the stump to make room for her. She dropped down beside him and he was glad he had washed in the stream this morning. She made the cold water worth it. "I checked your wheel last night. The spoke is holding just fine." He could smell the lavender of her hair and wished to touch the beautiful tresses. Somehow he always stopped himself before his hand could reach out on its own. She flashed a smile at him and he ducked his head, glancing back at her from beneath the hair. He wished he could say something to her that made sense. Finally he just looked at her. "Can I accompany you when you go to the fair?" There. He had said it.

 

[cati]

"Morgiana"

Someone was whispering her name. Morgiana quickly opened her eyes and listened.

"Morgiana?"

She peered through her curtain to see who it was. The man's name was unknown to her but she recognized his face immediately for she had seen him milling around the encampment the day before. A handsome face was not easily forgotten.

"Yes, who is it?"

 

[CountV]

The Storyteller

"Yes, who is it?"

"I'm the Storyteller, it's nice to run into you again" I say giving a small bow... she wasn't like the usual fortuneteller trying to get money, she really believed on what her talents could do, that conception fit very well with the world of fantasy I try to create everytime I speak.

"I was hoping to talk to you before the fair, perhaps you would be so kind as to show me what the cards say about my future, I have a great respect for your talents, and perhaps I could tell you a new story, would you like that?"

 

[intriguess]

"That would be delightful," she smiled at him. It was nice to have him ask before she did, it was like providence. Her grandmother would call it more than just fate, but then again her grandmother had far more of the gift than Merine did. "I was hoping you might play while I dance in the afternoon as well?"

 

[tighe]

ooc: okay, lets try this:

Berto stared at her, happy she did not reject him. She finally laughed out loud, causing him to look around, somewhat stunned. Finally he looked back at her and laughed a little at himself. "That was harder than I thought it would be." He admitted to her. Merine had always been the only one to make him laugh. They had both been early in their teenage years when he joined the troupe. An older woman had taken him in and cared for him. She had taught him about the visions he had and how to become a productive part of the troupe. It was her vardo that was left him after her death. She had introduced him to Merine first and it took him a whole day to speak to her. Over the years they had been friends, yet not close. He watched her grow into a beautiful young woman and dancer. He watched her break hearts of men who thought they could possess her. He knew she could not be possessed. Merine was one of only a few who knew of Berto's gift. What she didn't know was how he was often haunted by his dreams and shadows who seemed to always want to be seen. "I would be delighted to play for you." Her eyes peered into his soul and he smiled, only for her.

 

[cati]

Morgiana spoke to him through her window not wanting to open the door to him...just yet.
She found it surprising that he would so casually approach her wagon.

"Do you have money? Nothing is free these days my handsome story telling friend. Perhaps it would be wiser for you to save your stories for another day," she said almost rudely.

"Of course, if you can pay then I will gladly tell you your fortune."

The girl didn't care whether he agreed to her terms or not, after all she had to make a living and it was too early in the day to be open for business anyway.

"Well which is it? she demanded.