Prompt suggested by Bard.A relationship ended badly between your character and someone else, and now you need the aid of that individual in order to take care of an important task; how do you convince the person to help you?
If you need a refresher on how vignettes work, please feel free to revisit the guide.
Remember, participating in the vignette earns you one AP, and winning will earn you an additional point.
This vignette will close on September 30th.
Good luck!
Months after the Corone War...
"Haven't sold a bottle of this in years," cooed the kindly crone behind the counter. Amber liquid sloshed inside the squat glass flagon as she slid it across the aged teak counter. The Yurik's Firewhisky was equally well aged.
"Thank you," the customer said as he paid her in gold, "it's a favorite of my friend's. I went to three other stores in search." He smiled, making the Y-shaped scars on his cheeks dimple. He had close-cropped brown hair and broad shoulders, and most significantly deep hazel eyes.
The woman could see them in the daylight coming in through the windows of her shop. She knew who he was.
The Breaker. She'd heard a rumor that his nickname had originally been Heartbreaker, given by a fire-haired Salvic lass. The name had been shortened upon his return to the fighting pits of Corone and the Dajas Pagoda in Scara Brae. Most recently, so her sources said, he'd competed in Sei Orlouge's Cell, where he'd received the second of his matching scars.
Joshua Cronen kept his smile fixed in place and bowed his head in gratitude, and then stowed the whisky in his haversack and turned to wind his way through the shelves where boozers lurked like church boys at the altar, choosing their next bottle of worship. He'd seen a familiar gleam in the proprietor's eye; she was one of those Coronians who followed the lives of prizefighters perhaps a tad too closely.
A bell jangled behind him as he exited the shop. The streets of Radasanth's Bazaar district smelled of sweat and horses, backed by the fairer aromas of street meat roasting on hawkers' grills. The metal of Cronen's patented Breaker Boots pinged softly on the cobblestones for each step as he moved with the flow of the crowd to a quieter quarter of the city. Mansions and manors surrounded by manicured yards and spiked iron fences prevailed. The sun felt good on his black sifan clothing, warm enough to keep out the early autumn chill. It was a good day. Phyr Sa'resh would be amenable today.
Josh turned onto a particular mansion's promenade and entered the property by leaping over the locked gate. The wrought iron was tipped with spikes that reached at least ten feet high, but he cleared the danger with space to spare and landed in a casual cloud of dust. The whisky inside his bag sloshed violently as he walked up the dirt carriage-drive.
He had not seen Phyr in the better part of a year. The old Alerian elf had left Underwood during the civil war, having lost his taste for command when a vampire assassin hired by the Empire murdered his wife. The responsibility for her protection during that time belonged to Josh. In despair and rage Phyr resigned his post as Captain of the Watch and disappeared behind enemy lines. How a one-armed Alerian known to the Empire's forces had survived in Radasanth during the latter part of the war, Cronen could only imagine. Evidently Phyr's wit and experience had kept him alive, and Cronen had eventually found him working as an aide to the Baron of Radasanthia.
Let's hope he's up for a surprise... Josh lifted a wide, callused hand and rapped on the solid oaken door with callused knuckles.
A few moments passed with no response, and then an elderly man with white eyebrows and a lavish brown wig poked his head out.
"What do you want?" He asked, not crossly but rather like someone who was unused to answering the door.
"I'm looking for Phyr Sa'resh," Josh said. He grinned. The scar tissue on his cheeks dimpled.
"Oh my," the old man stuttered, "you're him. I mean, I-I-I- right this way please."
Josh's smile widened. On occasion it paid to be notorious.
He followed the voluminous wig through the mudroom, down a long hallway, and into one of many offices. Books and scrolls were stacked everywhere, loose papers were pinned in stacks under iron weights, and quills and blotters covered the desk.
In the chair behind the desk sat Phyr Sa'resh. The wizened Alerian elf had long silver hair and always looked a little empty on his below the right shoulder, where the sleeve of his fine woolen shirt was sewn up around the elbow, where the arm ended. He had a long crooked nose and narrow shoulders and wise azure eyes. He looked up from the letter he was writing and his scowl deepened.
"Leave us please, Oswald," Sa'resh said, and the wig exited the office, leaving the oaken door open. "Why are you here?" He asked simply, and sighed. He sanded the ink on the paper and set the letter aside, to finish another time.
"Not to apologize again," Josh said firmly, "it seems you've moved past her loss, so it's time you forgot your anger for me. Here," he pulled the flagon of Yurik's out of his bag and set it on the space Phyr had cleared on his desk. "Congratulations on your new appointment. You'll be the new baron in no time old friend."
Phyr snorted, but behind his azure eyes the clockwork gears had been working on that project for some time. He stood and stretched his back, hearing his spine pop twice, and ambled to nearby shelf to retrieve two glasses, legs sleepy from sitting so long.
"You're right," Sa'resh nodded as he resumed his seat and waved for Breaker to take the only chair facing him. "In fact, I wondered why it took you so long to find this poor old drow."
"I found you long ago," Josh jested, "I just didn't need you until now." They both chuckled.
"I heard you did well with the town," Phyr offered.
"We managed without you," Josh replied.
Sa'resh unstopped the bottle and poured a healthy portion into each of the tumblers. They took a glass each and chimed them together.
"To Elena," Sa'resh said, and they drank together to the memory of his human wife. She'd been the youthful breath of air that gave wind to his sails for so long. And yet somehow, he'd found a way to live without her. "So my friend," Phyr cleared his throat and set his glass down so he could wipe a tear from the corner of his eye. "What is it you need help with this time?"
"I need a General," Josh said, "to command my army in the Gisela Open."
Phyr could not help but smile.
"Is that so?" He asked. The gears clicked and whirred.
Since there were no other submissions, Breaker wins!
Rewards to follow!
Althanas Operations Administrator
"When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."
Breaker receives 1,600 EXP, 200 GP and 2 AP!
Congratulations!
Althanas Operations Administrator
"When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."
All rewards added!
Althanas Operations Administrator
"When we were young, was this the dream we had? We're celebrating nothing. We need to find our way back."
Posting Permissions
Submit Thread for Judgment