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  1. #31
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    The Rambler's Avatar

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    855

    Name
    Henry
    Age
    21
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    Human
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    Male
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    Corone

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    It took Henry a pair of heartbeats, slow and steady, for him to realize that Yvonne had left the room - and apparently had no intention of returning. He shook himself sharply, his head swinging back and forth, and chuckled to himself. "So, that's a 'yes' to being both a singer, and a dancer. I'll have to remember that." He wondered, as he started stalking after her, why she had chosen that particular song, or if it had just been the one she felt would work best without any accompaniment. With a rolling shrug of his shoulders, he took his fiddle back up and laid it across his shoulders, then picked up the lantern and left the room.

    His longer legs easily caught up to Yvonne's shorter strides, and he slowed himself down as he let her lead the way. He was curious - was she leading outside somewhere? Or did she expect him to take the lead once he had caught up, and show her to her room? She had left the question he asked unanswered, so he couldn't tell what was going on behind those enigmatic silver eyes. But as he caught up, he did slide in front of her, spinning around so he could walk backwards, using his long-time familiarity with the house to let him avoid running into anything as he looked down at her.

    "You, Miss Yvonne, are utterly fascinating." She never seemed to settle for a moment, and always had to be pressing on, trying to achieve the next thing. He knew from experience that singing while dancing was nowhere near as easy as some made it look - without proper experience, trying to do one, would leave you too breathless to do the other. Yet the dwarf pulled it off with aplomb, an entrancing singing voice, and some rather exquisite legs. The amount of time and effort she had to have put into that were certainly nothing to scoff at, and he thought she might have spent too long facing away to hide the blush he had caught on her cheeks, to see much of his own as he watched her. His piece said, for the moment, he spun back around, and fell into pace beside her.

    He was, admittedly, rather surprised by the hug she had blindsided him with. It's not that he wasn't used to them - the other children of the orphanage had been affectionate to him, once he had come out of his dark place, and had no qualms with tackling him with hugs. No, what had caught him off guard about the action was how relatively new they were to each other - they'd known each other for only a few hours, at most, at this point - meeting in the town, walking back, that dinner, then the music? No, not even hours - maybe one, or two at most. And she felt comfortable enough around him to embrace him? He felt... touched, by that, for some reason. Touched, and honored. From the corner of one bright blue eye he examined her, now with a less, perhaps, critical, eye than he had used before. No, there was a different tone to the gaze, a far more appreciative one, though most of that was hidden by the fact that most of his face was turned away. The musician cleared his throat abruptly, and looked at her fully, tucking away other thoughts for the time being.

    "So then, where to Miss?" He grinned at her, tilting his head to the side. "Or shall I just let you lead on?"

  2. #32
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    Yvonne's Avatar

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    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
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    Female
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    Alerar

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    “Out, fearlessly into tha unknown, ta experience this night life I keep hearing about dear,” Yvonne explained for her dreamy tag along. She detected an understated change in the minstrel and beamed about it, quite happy with herself. Henry wasn’t saying so but he may as well have been shouting it, through body language and a very long pause, while he digested what had bloody well taken place.

    An aura of cuteness radiated from him, walking backwards just so he could keep his eyes on her, and staring surreptitiously from the corner of his vision afterward. He didn’t know whether to eyeball her openly or hide his lingering gaze. So, so cute. As a bard he gave the performances and others watched, listened and applauded. That was how things were. She would never play an instrument to the calibre he could, but the realization she performed in other ways must have rocked his world.

    Travelling bards rarely found their way through her mother’s door - a bunkhouse deep in the dreary slums of Kachuck - and even when they did Mera usually turned them away. She couldn’t afford to pay them. Sometimes they stayed regardless, content with a room and a meal. Often the Mythrilmantles went without music and Yvonne sometimes filled the void, with her own song and dance. Later in life her tutor had refined those skills exponentially.

    “Yer advice on tha matter would be well heeded, of course. I could get used ta listening ta yer council ye know,” the half-and-halfling amended. This had been her first day in Stonevale and without his guidance their nightly exploration would be meandering at best, not that she imagined the wandering minstrel would mind at all. It didn’t particularly please Yvonne to waste time however, because time was a precious commodity and always, always plenty needed to be done.

    Together they walked back through the manor, their footsteps quietly taking them by creaky wooden floorboards which Henry aptly pointed out to her. It wouldn’t do to wake the Matron or the children. None of them needed encouraging or their bad example, sneaking out late at night to get into any mischief they could come across. Firstly they would need their belongings, still hanging up in the dining room. With a chill in the air her scarf would be most welcome, despite the fact her host had warmed her heart.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  3. #33
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    The Rambler's Avatar

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    Name
    Henry
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    Human
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    "My advice, my advice, my advice, my advice." Henry spun on one foot before he pushed open the door to the kitchen where their belongings were hanging against one wall. He was humming the words under his breath, thinking as he turned the request over in his head. His advice? His advice would be to take a stroll in the fresh, cool night air, enjoying each other's company and getting to know a bit more about each other. This woman had apparently entrenched herself in his family house with nary a qualm on anyone's part - Matilda had accepted her, albeit grudgingly, and the kids seemed to like having someone else around, someone new. He'd like to know more about her - did she like kids, or was she putting on a brave face around the rambunctious horde that had been running about? What did she do with her days, besides singing and dancing?

    But - but his advice wasn't appropriate, not for this situation. Because he already had an insight into the kind of girl that Yvonne was. While she might not be actively against the idea, Henry knew that the girl would prefer to be doing something with her time, along while talking. Not exactly his preference, because he preferred to enjoy life more simply, more... languidly. Despite that - well, proceeding at a more energetic pace wasn't something he would hate doing. So, as he took her scarf down from the hook and held it out for the girl, he was lost in thought. This made him fall into old, ingrained habits from years of looking after the children, and as he was thinking of where to take her he moved automatically.

    Deft hands smoothly laid the scarf across her shoulders, and he tied it together around her neck, smoothing it out with a gentle touch as he hummed in thought. His mind was entirely elsewhere, until he went to smooth down the scarf as it fell and he realized that he was not tending to one of the children. "AH!" He leapt away, his face turning a bright scarlet.

    "A- a - sorry sorry! Sorry!" He stammered, the normally even keeled musician blushing fiercely. "So sorry! UHm. Uhm. sorry." He snatched up his fiddle from where he had set it on the table. "We-shou- we should ah, go out. Yes. Uhm. There are a few stores that run late. Night bakery, I know there's a blacksmith that likes to work in the evenings because 'the sun hurts his eyes' and - " as he was speaking, Henry was rapidly backpedaling, practically tripping over himself as he tried to get away from the mishap.

  4. #34
    Senior Member

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    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
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    Female
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    Alerar

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    Henry draped Yvonne’s brown fur scarf about her neck and shoulders, possibly one of the most gentlemanly acts she’d had the pleasure of experiencing. His humming lulled her into feelings of appreciation and contentment - a moment of blissfulness and elation - so when the minstrel’s hand stroked over her ample, plump breast those feelings abruptly vanished. Replaced with eye-expanding surprise, she dared not move an inch and merely looked at him, seeking explanation.

    Understanding washed over the corset-bearing woman almost in tandem with Henry’s recoiling retreat. Yvonne’s questioning silver eyes softened and that sly, impish smirk returned to its rightful place upon her features. He hadn’t been confident in his actions after all. She could help him build up that confidence of his. It was something they could work on together.

    Ye would have me believe yer fondle ta be an accident? Hmm, I don’t know… ye seemed like ye knew what ye were doing with yer hands for a moment there. Why tha knee-jerk reaction? Usually a girl would like a little more foreplay first but I enjoyed yer caress. Nothing like a man who knows what ta do with his hands and simply takes what he desires.

    The drow-dwarf hybrid burst into a fit of giggles, though she quickly covered her mouth with both hands and tittered behind them. She had to be very careful not to wake the children, especially here so close to their bedrooms. Her silver eyes did the laughing for her, creasing in delight and expressing the amused mirth that wouldn’t stay inside her little jiggling body. Trying to keep it all bottled up made her snort, and snorting made her laugh even more.

    Henry ran, nearly tripped over his own feet in an effort to distance himself from her bosom. She followed him, shaking her head as the last of her giggles died down, reining in a mind of jests and wisecracks she could let loose upon him now, any time an appropriately perky occasion was laid bare. She would have to keep him abreast of any further developments. No, no, it wouldn’t do to tease the bard while he still felt so insecure, but the thoughts of doing so definitely filled her mind. She’d let him off scot-free for now. She was trying to encourage this behaviour.

    We could peruse a few shops, or ye could peruse me own wares if ye like, teehee.

    “That felt wonder-- I mean sounds wonderful. After ye, mister. Introduce me ta this blacksmith ye know,” Yvonne approved. “Who doesn’t love meeting people they have things in common with?”
    Last edited by Yvonne; 06-24-2018 at 09:17 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  5. #35
    Member

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    The Rambler's Avatar

    GP
    855

    Name
    Henry
    Age
    21
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    Human
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    Corone

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    After putting some distance between himself and the giggling girl - not that he knew she was giggling at the moment - Henry managed to calm himself down, and put his fiddle back into its case and store it in one of the cabinets, to pick back up later after taking Yvonne out. He didn't think he'd be playing any more music tonight, not without coming back here first. As he closed the cabinet, Henry flexed one hand a little - the one that had gotten an inadvertent handful. It had been warm, and soft, and a faint dusting of red washed across his face as the phantom sensation of that warmth spread across his palm.

    Then Yvonne spoke up from nearby, and he shook his head rapidly. He thought, for a moment, that she had been about to say something else - but he threw that idea right out the door, dismissing it as the ramblings of his rather disoriented mind. He coughed, and shook his head again, focusing his bright blue eyes on the young woman as he headed towards the front door. Again his long familiarity with the layout of the house showed, as he smoothly walked around various pieces of furniture without really registering that they were there.

    "You're quite right about that, Miss Yvonne. Shared interests do tend to lead to more enjoyable meetings." And I am rather glad you like music. Means I'll usually have something I can talk about without boring you. He kept that thought to himself though. No, he was definitely not willing to voice that particular one, not yet. Not after accidentally fondling her. He coughed into a closed fist before holding the front door open. Yvonne preceded him through the door, and he closed it firmly behind them - he knew Matilda would still be awake for a while so he didn't need to worry about locking it, but just leaving the door open was a terrible idea.

    As the two walked down the street, he did make sure to stay somewhat close to Yvonne. The night was somewhat cool, and while she did have her scarf back on, he didn't know how used to the cold night air she was. So he was ready in case she needed - well. An arm, maybe? He frowned slightly. Well, no matter unless she actually got cold. The blacksmith wasn't far away, and once they actually made it to his shop the chill certainly wouldn't be an issue.


    The night-operating blacksmith was one of the local journeymen, operating the store during late hours for those people who worked into the night, and would need things. Getting something repaired couldn't always be done during the day after all. And the journeyman who ran the shop at night, a gentleman by the name of Tyvin, well knew that he was working for those who operated on a strange schedule. He usually had a pot of coffee brewing somewhere in the shop, so he could give a cup to customers who could stomach the brew. It certainly woke you up, a potent, bitter black sludge that was, Henry swore, sometimes considering sentience through sheer caffenation. He pushed open the door to the store and held it for Yvonne, calling out inside as he did so.

    "Oi, Tyvin, you busy at the moment?" His bright, clear voice rang out into the shop as he ushered his guest inside.

  6. #36
    Senior Member

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    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
    Gender
    Female
    Location
    Alerar

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    Henry kept racking up those gentleman points, didn’t he? Holding open the door for her, such a sweetheart. Always in the right place and doing nice things by her. In the past she’d considered herself lucky if the dark elves she’d known hadn’t closed doors in her face, their lofty noses in the air - they easily overlooked her small stature and paid her no mind. Humans though, they could be altogether different, this minstrel especially.

    “You damn well know I’m busy, you frivolous fiddler,” Tyvin shot back, not looking up from a twin-arced battle-axe sharpening against a revolving grindstone. Hohoo, temper temper. Easy does it now. Sparks of burning metal showered the stone floor as his experienced hands refined an edge into a menacing weapon, controlling the angle and the pressure applied. With his back to them and every ounce of concentration poring over his craft, Tyvin hadn’t realized anyone else had come in besides an old friend who understood his disposition well. Head down, but his ears looked decidedly hairy.

    Yvonne let him work and took the moment as an opportunity to absorb it all. The uncomplicated smithy had four walls in a square arrangement and those boxed-in a round open-pit furnace filled with glowing coals. The ceiling itself narrowed into a small rectangular shape, then rose vertically. Upon closer inspection she realized that would be a chimney, for ventilation of abundant smoke. Workbenches littered with the smith’s tools bordered half of the room while an anvil and bellows dominated the other half.

    The half-dwarf had a suspicion the armour and weapons resting or cooling on the racks had recently been forged. A distinct lack of dust upon the armaments gave it away - the blacksmith knew how to move his products and must have been collecting a tidy sum for his efforts. Either that or a desperate demand for his pieces snapped them up as quickly as he crafted them.

    “What do you want Henry? The goblins threaten the town, this had better be good or-- oh,” Tyvin prompted with a snarl but caught his error, as his muscular, brawny body reluctantly turned to face them. Yvonne noticed pointed teeth and a few seconds of shame in his eyes which he rapidly buried, crossing his coarsely haired forearms and redirecting his focus to removing grease and filth from beneath a fingernail with a… was that a clawed thumb? No, but a long fingernail nonetheless.

    “You could have warned me a lady had come into my smithy. I’d have kept my manners intact. Too late for that now,” the husky blacksmith complained. He shifted his gaze, a tad uncomfortably from Henry down to Yvy. Black of hair, a mustache, a short beard and those eyes; the drow-dwarf couldn’t make up her mind about them. Either his eyes were worryingly bloodshot or rendered a natural colour of red.

    “A pleasure ta be making yer acquaintance, sir,” she greeted him, providing an elegant curtsy. Though neither was it low or linger as long as the curtsy she’d offered to Mother Matilda.

    Already got this Tyvin on tha back foot. No need ta make him more uncomfortable than he already be. He looks ta be human but I never met one so covered in body hair. Even his eyebrows join together in unholy matrimony. Tha local barber taken off on an extended holiday, eh?
    Last edited by Yvonne; 07-02-2018 at 05:41 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  7. #37
    Member

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    The Rambler's Avatar

    GP
    855

    Name
    Henry
    Age
    21
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    Human
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    Corone

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    "Well I mean, I just came back myself so I didn't know about that." Henry shook his head with an amused smile as he strode over to Tyvin, and wrapped one arm around the man's shoulders. "See you're still trying to impersonate a bear. You really need to shave down." He cleared his throat and stepped back, releasing the blacksmith from the hug. He ignored the soot that was on his side and stepped between the two, bowing to Yvonne.

    "Tyvin, this is Miss Yvonne, a young lady that I met earlier today. She's taken up residence at the house, and - well, not my place to say much more, is it?" He chuckled. "Miss Yvonne, this is Tyvin. He was one of the older children at the orphanage when I was growing up." Tyvin snorted and shifted, swatting Henry on the shoulder. "Hey! I'm not wrong." Finally, finally Henry could relax a bit, be a bit more comfortable - he had a friend around, and hopefully with Tyvin there Yvonne wouldn't tease him about his ah, slip up earlier. He coughed into his hand and waved at the two of them with a smile on his face.

    "Now then, Miss Yvonne said she shares interests with you - and you know me, weak and noodly arms and all." He grinned. "I'm sure she wants to talk blacksmithing with you, Tyvin. I figured I should show her around town - our next stop was going to be the-" Tyvin cut the rambling musician off with a swat upside the back of his head, and Henry stumbled forward before recovering and turning around to glare at his friend. The burly blacksmith folded his arms back over his chest and leveled an unimpressed glare at the bard.

    "I forgot how dense you are, boy." His eyes flickered to Yvonne, then back to Henry. "I'm a bit busy at the moment - the forgemaster has everyone working overtime to get weapons and armor together for the militia. You, should probably swing by Talion's, I'm sure he'd be grateful to have your skilled hand back in the shop for a few days." Henry shifted and rubbed the back of his head, looking down and to the side. Tyvin shook his head. "I know you don't like to do it, but we need every bit of help we can get. You should at least go by, and see if he can use your help." He directed his gaze towards Yvonne.

    "Sorry about that, lady. Unpleasant times are on us, as much as my wayward friend likes to try not to think about it." He nodded his head to her. "Now, unless you have truly pressing concerns, I should probably get back to work. Henry, truly, go visit Talion's shop tomorrow, would you?" Henry didn't quite meet Tyvin's eyes, but nodded. "Good. Now then, off with you to - unless you need something, lady?" He tilted his head in Yvonne's direction, curiosity in his eyes.

  8. #38
    Senior Member

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    Yvonne's Avatar

    GP
    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
    Race
    Grey Dwarf
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    Female
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    Alerar

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    The half breed giggled at the bard’s misfortune, copping a swipe upside the head. Poor Henry. A smith’s hand was no joke. She’d have to check for bruising afterward, apply some herbal ointment. That might make him feel better. He'd said nothing about this other business, Talion’s, but his body language spoke volumes. She made a mental note to stir it up again later, when they’d left the smithy.

    “Truly pressing concerns? Nothing that won’t wait for a goblin routing,” Yvonne replied offhandedly. “Don’t let us distract ye from yer important work, good sir. There be many goblins and not enough blacksmiths ta compensate, I’d suspect.” The drow-dwarf calculated the risks of saying what she wanted to say, weighing the pros and cons. Could she trust this Tyvin? They didn’t have a lot of time and her window of opportunity was closing. She decided to take it while she could.

    “A business proposal for ye ta consider, that be all. I see yer crafting in steel and damascus for tha most part,” Yvonne pointed out, inspecting the craftsmanship on the weapon racks before her. The smith’s pieces had been rushed to completion but would be serviceable, as best she could tell. They lacked the fierce passion and splendour of dwarf-craft armour and weaponry, of course. That said she understood these armaments could have been made in a fifth of the time and would accomplish similar, albeit lesser results on a battlefield. Dwarves preferred perfection, and taking the time to achieve perfection, with their blacksmithing. Nothing worse than a broken shield in tha heat of battle, they liked to say.

    “I might be able ta get in touch with a dwarven associate of mine, source for ye a finer metal ta work with. Alerians greedily hoard their precious metals ta themselves, but would ye be interested if small quantities found a way ta ye? I handle tha transportation of trade goods worldwide and I seek buyers,” she explained, proposing her offer - taking a gamble on the knowledge and morality of this man. The fact that she smuggled the ore out of Kachuck was of need-to-know basis. Even if he did find out about that and wasn’t willing to smelt smuggled ore would he go dobbing about her more unscrupulous activities? Unlikely, considering their connections with Henry.

    “Goblins turn tail and flee at the sight of dwarven weapons. Ye must yearn ta ply yer craft with better clay,” Yvonne coaxed, a dimpled smirk forming between her cheeks. “Tell ye what, there be no need ta decide tonight. Ye think on it and I’ll return in a few days. I could help ye about tha forge - an extra pair of hands ta take tha stress out of ye work - and we can talk more about it then when yer not so busy. I’ll let ye resume yer tasks. It be marvelous meeting ye Tyvin.” With the bob of another curtsy she saw herself out, leaving the two men in varying states of surprise.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 07-13-2018 at 07:50 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

  9. #39
    Member

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    The Rambler's Avatar

    GP
    855

    Name
    Henry
    Age
    21
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    Human
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    Corone

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    "Huh. Well, you certainly found an interesting one to deal with there, Henry." It took a few moments before Tyvin spoke, the large blacksmith turning his gaze to the lanky bard. Said musician was currently blinking in the direction of the door, trying to figure out where that had come from. He ended up shrugging in response to that, unsure of what to say. "Huh. Wonder how she'll feel about the fact that the master of this forge is an Elf? I know the Drow have some issues with their magic wielding cousins." This time, bright blue eyes swung to the smith.

    "Eh. At worst, she'll pull back on the offer. At best she'll ignore it. I figure she'll just try to make sure that her dealings are with you specifically, not... Wait, an Elf? I thought Yark was the master of the forge." Henry was staring at his friend, his eyes having widened in shock halfway through his sentence as something he remembered came back to him. Tyvin rubbed his left shoulder with his right hand and shrugged slightly, shaking his head.

    "No. Llukrath had to step up and take over, after Master Yark got injured. One of the apprentices messed up on the bellows, overheated an pour. Master Yark managed to save the kid, but he got burned pretty bad. They're looking for a healer that can treat the metal burns, but for right now it was decided to be best if Master Yark rested at home while someone else took over for the time being. It's... been a bit of a change, but considering Llukrath learned a lot of what he does from Yark, things haven't been too bad. Now then - I'm holding you too long. Tell your girl -" He ignored the attempt at a protest from Henry over that appellation, "that I'll have to talk her offer over with the other journeymen and Llukrath before I can say one way or another. You should run on now. And Henry, seriously, talk to Talion. Having your hand back in the bowyer, even if only for a few days, is sure to help." Henry rubbed the back of his head as he walked towards the door, following in the wake of Yvonne.

    "I... know, and I'll tell her, Ty. I just... You know me, I prefer making music to weapons. But I will, I'll go see him tomorrow, I promise. I was thinking about staying in Stonevale for a few days anyway, and going there will give me work to do." And it would keep him busy, distracted, unti lhe finally decided it was time to roll back out of Stonevale. He sighed and waved goodbye to the blacksmith, who was returning back to his work.

    Outside, Henry blinked a few times and squinted, looking around and trying to spot Yvonne. His night vision was decidedly lacking, so he didn't spot her right away. "Ah, damn. Hope she didn't get tired of waiting for me." He didn't think he'd been in there talking to Tyvin for too long, but Yvonne wasn't the type to wait around super patiently from what he'd seen, not unless she had a reason to. Her deciding to go exploring on her own was entirely possible, he realized.

  10. #40
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    Yvonne's Avatar

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    2,109

    Name
    Yvonne Mythrilmantle
    Age
    21
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    Grey Dwarf
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    Female
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    Alerar

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    Yvonne delicately shut the door behind her and at once brought a perky ear close to the wood, listening. She’d sensed her unexpected appearance had made Tyvin uncomfortable and remaining inside the blacksmith wouldn’t allow him to speak freely with Henry. Eavesdropping occasionally provided benefits, tidbits of information that she’d not overhear otherwise. Tha master of tha forge suffered grievous burns? Hmm… she pondered, wondering if she could treat him somehow. An old elf with metal burns sounds a wee bit beyond me own means of mending, but it always be important ta know who needs help.

    She considered this Llukrath, another name spoken beyond the door. Someone who had to step up and manage the affairs of a business without notice. High probability his experience assured he was the most fitting stand-in, but situations like these were never easy on the acting manager. He would be under the most intense stress among the journeymen. Like it or not, he would be the weak point - the chink in the armour - at the current time. Convince this Llukrath that she sought to help their little blacksmith by providing a new source of materials and presto, gold would be hers.

    Yvonne silently stepped aside of the opening door, moving with its flow and tucking her little frame in between it and the stone wall, only preventing the door just short of connecting with her face. Henry strolled out of the building and paused, beginning to peer into the darkness, looking for her most likely. She listened to the crunches of his footfalls upon the pebbly ground, unable to see him but knowing precisely where he was. She waited, taking a moment for unease to well up inside him - the thought that he’d been left behind to cross his mind.

    The half-breed pushed the door closed and leaped from the shadows, the door slam lending emphasis to the ROAR of her voice! She caught the trusting bard completely by surprise - he jumped away from her in out-and-out panic, tripped on a rock when he touched down, tumbled over and threw his hands out to protect himself. The minstrel’s legs and boots soared overhead and set down again, carrying him right way up. The entire clumsy motion somehow rolled into a neat and tidy cartwheel. He spun to face her with startled eyes.

    The mischievous prankster giggled until happy tears streamed down her cheeks and she keeled over, her sides hurting from laughter. She’d not been expecting an impressive acrobatic maneuver from the minstrel but there it was! Not a helpless fiddler when under pressure or put to the test after all. That lean and lanky body of his could elude and evade away from danger better than she’d ever imagined.

    “Goodness gracious, yer falling head over heels for me already Henry,” the hybrid commented, cheeky as usual. She could shift between business and pleasure at a moment’s notice, it seemed.
    Last edited by Yvonne; 07-21-2018 at 05:23 AM.
    So I’m cutting that branch off the cherry tree.
    Singing this will be my victory.
    Then I, I see them coming after me.
    And they’re following me across the sea.
    And now they’re stinging my friends and my family.
    And I, I don’t know why this is happening.
    ~ Thrice, Black Honey.

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