[Noihara][Crafting] The Academy's Unifrom

[Sark]

Sark looked about the the familiar room. It was the one room in the Noihara guildhall that he felt was truly his own; the clothier's center. Long bolts of silk stood quietly in ordered stacks against one of the wall, while folded sheets of different wools and cottons were neatly piled in drawers. A set of long wooden tables ran through the center of the room with enough space for 8 people to sit comfortably. The Noihara flag had been made in four different materials and then screenprinted, with each flag proudly displayed on a particular wall.

And, discretely in a corner was Sark's own beanbag. He'd generated the design himself then made it with the help of a friend. It was one of his proudest creations, and surprisingly comfy to boot. Sark was lying in at the moment, half heartedly reading through the latest issue of the Londinium Log newsletter. His green hair was tousled and matted from the number of times his hands had stroked through it, while his clothes showed the rumpled proof of too much tossing and turning. He found it hard to read any of the articles. The boy wanted to be out doing something, but lacked the motivation to get up. At the same time he lacked the focus for an indoor task. He'd been drifting between rooms of the guild until their bartender told him to vamoose.

So here he sat, impatiently reading and then putting aside the newsletter. He'd wait twenty seconds then pick up the paper again. The cycle continued on until a chat request popped up.

It was Bailin; a stern militaristic man that the tailor had met on his Windsor Castle raid. His calm composure and unique set of skills had made quite the impression on the youth, enough that Sark found himself unconsciously straightening his posture as Bailin spoke. The man had a job for Sark, and had requested a rendezvous.

Sark replied in the only way he knew how: energetically. Even better, a job would give his hands something to do and burn away the cabin fever that had taken ahold of him.

"Sounds great! Pick a spot and I'll rush right over!"

Samurai: ______ 32 Tailor:_________ 36 Acrobat: ______ 01

Word Count: 366

Pokes: Bailin

OOC: Vanity 1/3

[Bailin]

[nospaces]

HP: 100% MP: 100% RH: Pre War Luger (lvl 20) LH: Fall Back Option (lvl 20) QS: Golden Hilt (lvl 21) AR: Flak Jacket (lvl 21)

WC: 386 TWC: 386 Tags Sark Theme Song TS Credits Cortana

It had been quite a busy time for the members of Vylbrand. First a lot of their comrades had struck out into the wild, leaving nothing to minute hints on their whereabouts. Even their guild leader, Saskia, had vanished without a trace. The few that remained were too left mostly to their own devices as there currently were little to no threats to either them or the guild. And as such it was time for some reformations. First on the list had been the upgrading of the guild hall, which was to be completed soon. The gathering of the required funds had been a bit though, as even the active members had struck out and did their own thing most of the time. Now, it required patience for the system to catch up. Secondly, as the upgrade had gone through from their end, was the alliance with the guild of Bailin’s friend Dumah, Noihara, which was also left hanging in the hands of Dumah. Somewhere the warden felt a certain irony, being unable to do anything other than just wait. The third thing on the list had been general reformations. Bailin was now officially the leader of Vylbrand and there had been some changes into the structure and goal of the guild, as well as a name change of sorts. And with this change came new uniforms; shopping for clothes. Had the warden been a girl he’d probably had gone crazy, because well… shopping. He, however, was far from female nor did he enjoy shopping, especially for clothing. Luckily for him he also know a certain tailor whom could assist him in acquiring the desired clothing. This tailor was known as Sark. When the warden had shot Sark a message the tailor had responded with grand enthusiasm, telling the warden he’d rush over the second the warden told him where to go. The attitude of the tailor was commendable, to say the least. [break][break] “Meet me at the tailoring room. It shall have what you require.” Was all the warden had mentioned before he had set out. Luckily the warden had visited the Noihara guild hall before, it would save Sark a long trek through the city as well as hold all the tools and materials they’d require. After a while the warden arrived at the room. [break][break]

[Sark]

Bailin responded promptly; rather than meeting at a central location the impassive warden would meet Sark at the guild hall. It was a considerate gesture from the man, and one gesture didn't slip past the samurai. Degree by degree Sark was learning people's nuances, slowly maturing into a more considerate person.

That didn't stop his excitement.

Excitement flushed his cheeks as the boy looked about his the guild room. There were signs of half hearted cleaning over the weeks, but without a dedicated maid or butler nothing got more than an accidental wipe. Sark's mother back in the old world had always been particular about having a clean house when guests visited and Bailin's attendance triggered this Pavlovian response, sending the boy into a cleaning panic.

A scrap of loose cotton was snatched up. The cupboards received attention first, with loose items hidden haphazardly while the counter received a furious buffing.

"Faster, faster!" Sark huffed, determination building inside him. His pace picked up.

"Faster, more speed!" He cried, eyebrows coming down into a fierce frown. The dusting was completed in a flash of activity ending with the cloth thrown dramatically high into the air. The samurai dove for a tail end of silk. It was folded and pressed with sharp, rapid motions.

"I need more speed!" He had a floor oiling pad now, but no oil for it. His eyes scanned the room for any alternative and eventually settled on something. It was an oil technically to bind the colours applied to wools; for now it could work as wood polish. He got down onto his hands and knees with the damp, folded cloth between his hands and rushed back and forth.

He was still too slow. With a final cry of desperation he activated his signature samurai skill; "Lightspeed" Denkosekka. Arcs of mana shot up from the ground an encased the samurai, who with a burst of speed rushed across the floor in a rapid quick fire of oiling. He was done in no time. This scrap of silk was thrown into the air as well, joining its fellow airborne cleaning cloth.

All he had left to do was his final task; arranging the tools on the work bench. With the two clothes floating down in slow motion Sark rushed along the long table, dexterously lining up scissors, tape, chalk and the variety of other tools of his trade.

"Done!" He huffed. The two clothes floated down past him. They were snatched up and binned, finishing the cleaning process.

All up the cleaning had taken no more than 40 pressure filled seconds. Bailin had likely not even left his room yet, let alone made his way to the Noihara guild hall. His sudden anxiety filled cleaning seemed foolish now, colouring his cheeks.

Trying to distract himself, Sark wondered what to do. He could sit around and wait, but that was boring. Each moment would trickle slowly past as he listened for the slightest sound of footsteps. It would be a voluntary torture, and Sark wanted none of it. In that case he needed a task to fill his time; and not cleaning.

"Cookies!" He decided. His good friend Dorian was a chef by trade, and one who specialised his wares for sweet tooths like Sark. The energetic shaman often had a display set up somewhere with a variety of treats. The samurai took a minute to write a short note before dashing out the front door.

Back in 5 Should be back
 before you. So you probably
wont read this. If you do,
have a seat. Our bartender
is funny and will give you
a drink.
-Sark

Samurai: ______ 32 Tailor:_________ 36 Acrobat: ______ 01

Word Count: 608

Pokes: Bailin

OOC: Probably gibberish but took me an hour and I need to sleep.

[Bailin]

[nospaces]

HP: 100% MP: 100% RH: Pre War Luger (lvl 20) LH: Fall Back Option (lvl 20) QS: Golden Hilt (lvl 21) AR: Flak Jacket (lvl 21)

WC: 353 TWC: 729 Tags Sark Theme Song TS Credits Cortana

The room was empty, none were present and nothing of note was in sight. Well, nothing… there was a note hanging from the door, which told the warden that his intended appointment was out. The note mentioned that Sark would be back in approximately five minutes, though the warden recalled that if Sark was to be a Belgian, the five minutes would boil down to about forty five, if Sark was German, he would return exactly in five minutes. If he were Dutch, Sark would be a wild card, either being way too early or fashionably late, by about twenty to thirty minutes. So the warden decided to make himself a bit more comfortable, placing his hands folded together behind his back, placing his legs a bit spread, but enough to keep him comfortable for a longer period of time and then the games began; who would win, Sark or the warden? Who’d win, Sark with his errand or would Bailin’s patience run out? [break][break] Standing as still as he could be; the warden kept his eye staring into the nothingness in front of him, his mind turning to a blank slate as he tried to think of nothing, to pass the time. After a while though, he got bored of the nothingness and started thinking on how he would explain the rather large order he wanted to ask of Sark; the guild could use some clothes to raise a form of unity, but he and Jacoben had to have different clothes as they held other ranks. It was a though, and financially painful job as they had just finished gathering the funds for the upgrade of their guild hall, but somebody had to do it and Bailin was the one who could probably regain most of the wealth they had spent back in a quicker way than the others. Especially as the warden was now more of a homebody than one that ventured forth like the others. [break][break] After a short while Sark arrived, cookies in hand and a joyful grin upon his face, as if he was happy, just because he had cookies. [break][break]

[Sark]

Sark whistled tunelessly but energetically as he sauntered back from his cookie run. A plastic bag filled with treats swung merrily in time with his steps. The tailor bounced cheerily up the steps of Westminster's Cathedral and through the bar. The local barkeep scowled in Sark's direction, causing a small clip of laughter to slip from Sark.

Skipping through the hallways Sark turned a corner and found a military man standing guard over the tailoring room. The man's posture was severe, his hair short and his clothes exuding authority. Sark stopped short, guilt suddenly crossing his face. While he had left the note for Bailin, he hadn't expected the man to arrive for quite some time still.

Silence stretched uncomfortably.

Sark lifted his bag, the plastic crunching loudly in the silence. With an effort of will Sark salvaged his joy and let a smile grow on his face. "I have cookies! They'll help us focus while we work on this mysterious project of yours. Come on in!"

He scooted about his companion and opened up the crafting room. The familiar sight of cloth soothed his nerves. After a few moment a platter of cookies was set up in the middle of the table, and Sark indicated for Bailin to freely sit down. He took one of the biscuits at random and crunched into it, talking while he ate.

"So how can I help? I've got a bit of free time at the moment, what with the cold making fighting just that bit too yuck."

Samurai: ______ 32 Tailor:_________ 36 Acrobat: ______ 01

Word Count: 254

Pokes: Bailin

OOC: Super short sorry! Feel free to put words in Sark's mouth.

[Bailin]

[nospaces]

HP: 100% MP: 100% RH: Pre War Luger (lvl 20) LH: Fall Back Option (lvl 20) QS: Golden Hilt (lvl 21) AR: Flak Jacket (lvl 21)

WC: 292 TWC: 1021 Tags Sark Theme Song TS Credits Cortana

The tailor was skipping through the hallways, grinning joyfully as the bag of cookies swung back and forth with each skip. When the dwarf stated cheerfully he had cookies all the warden could do was nod in agreement, as it was rather hard to deny the presence of the cookies. If there was a large amount of sugar in the cookies it would explain quite a lot. When Sark was done skipping and munching a cookie he invited the warden in so they could perform the labour they had set out to do. [break][break] “I require some clothing for myself and my people.” Spoke the warden, cold as always with a stern face as he stared at the dwarf with his one eye. “I would require a total of six overalls, black, with the crest of Vylbrand upon the left chest, above the heart; on the right chest their names, which I shall provide shortly.” The warden continued. “I will also require two sets of suits. They use the same principle as the overalls; however, they require a blouse, jacket, belt and trousers. On the shoulders of one should be the British military rank of lieutenant. The other the rank of general.” He continued. [break][break] “Can you do that? And how much will this cost me?” asked the warden after he finished his description of what he desired. The clothes would probably be hardly worn, except when there was a party, formal activities or classes to be given or had. His biggest concern was that his guild mates would either disagree with the general dress code, though the idea was to create a form of bonding and equality amongst them, with a hidden message that if they performed well they could get fancier clothing. [break][break]

[Sark]

The teen fidgeted while Bailin spoke, but he tried his best to school himself to stillness. The man before him was like a statue in his rigid posture, clear enunciation and straight forward manner. He was like a Headmaster, or military captain. In short; it was no surprise that he lead a military academy. The idea was exhilarating! He was dealing with one of the best known guilds in the new world. They were not many, and they were not powerful, but they were meaningful. They had helped many of the newer players during those formative months after the transition, and in particular had helped those like Sark who had been mentally unprepared for the sudden change. He had remembered their generosity, and always had a smile for the guild.

As such, dealing with their current guild master was truly an hour. While the man was imposing, he also demanded a level of respect that so few could. It made Sark want to sit up straighter.

In short Bailin an order was outlined. It was similar to Noihara's own; a set of regular guild clothes for the mooks, and a special uniform for the elites. Several other guild had followed the same pattern, giving the ideal of community while also emphasizing the divide between the members and the inner circle.

While Bailin rattled on Sark began to organise his thoughts. They would be vanity clothing, so their durability would be low. However, their use was also going to be more for 'dress events' rather than daily wear, so that was OK. He'd include a few of the game's "auto menders" so the Vylbrand guild could maintain their gear for the first few months before needing a tailor to do a proper durability repair on them. Given the militaristic bent to the guild, a material that ironed easily and crisply would be appreciated. Add to the dark dye required and Sark had his material picked. The Sarum cotton was lesson common than the Londinium and Northern varieties, but it made lovely clothes ideal for this use.

Bailin finally brought up the price and Sark's expression soured. He didn't really do his work for a profit, but he did know that people often equated quality with price. As such, Sark found himself charging the minimum he thought he could get away with and not make his customer's suspicious of the 'too good to be true' pricing.

"Let's see ... 6 sets of level 10 vanity clothes for the overalls, and 2 sets of level 20s for the elite uniforms ... call it an even 100 gold? That's with our alliance discount of course- I know boss man and you are working on a treaty or something."

After Bailin spoke up there was a certain tense silence. At this point Sark would usually indicate a delivery time then get his customer out the way so that he could start making his new fun jobs. This time, Sark lingered. An embarassed flush rose up his neck and onto his cheeks.

"Actually... could you stay while I make the first set of overalls and the first captain uniform? I'm not too familiar with the military cuts or insignia so someone of your background might be able to help. That way you wont have to send it back if I muck something up.

"And I just have to say, I think it's great what Vylbrand are doing. About a year ago I was actually helped out by some of you guys, but I lacked the motivation to ever join up. So kudos!"
 

Samurai: ______ 32 Tailor:_________ 36 Acrobat: ______ 01

Word Count: 596

Pokes: Bailin

OOC: -

[Bailin]

[nospaces]

HP: 100% MP: 100% RH: Pre War Luger (lvl 20) LH: Fall Back Option (lvl 20) QS: Golden Hilt (lvl 21) AR: Flak Jacket (lvl 21)

WC: 279 TWC: 1300 Tags Sark Theme Song TS Credits Cortana

“Thank you and I shall.” The warden responded shortly, though relieved the tailor could help him. “That sum sounds fair.” He continued, looking at Sark’s work, observing as a silent statue, his eye following each cut and movement the samurai made. [break][break] “It is a pity you did not join us, however I see you have found yourself in a decent spot.” Bailin spoke curtly as Sark recanted that he was helped out a long time ago. It was then that the warden received a small burst of messages, which in short added three more members to the guild, as well as added three more uniforms to the order. [break][break] “Sark, would you be so kind as to add two more overall’s and one more suit, this time with the sergeants chevrons. It would appear Vylbrand has grown a bit all of a sudden.” The warden said with a grin, which would most assuredly be scary to those who knew him for a short while. [break][break] "As for the details: the lieutenant’s uniform as two stars embroidered upon the both shoulders.” The warden said as he pointed at his shoulders to show where the marks went as he explained in greater detail what he wanted. “As for the general’s uniform, I would like to have a base of two swords crossed, one star above that and a crown. All the shoulders are to be fastened with a button of preferably gold or brass.” [break][break] “The sergeant’s mark should go on the right upper arm, consisting of three chevrons pointing downward and a crown at the top. Can you do that?” the warden asked patiently as the tailor worked his magic on the cloth. [break][break]