last from the past? maybe

[Lady Blackwell]

Closed to Whitlen

Max stretched as he walked down the streets of Radasanth. He hadn't enjoyed a nice beer since his bandit clan robbed a city of it's beer. It was a good brew and the best he had ever had, but he was hoping this city could help him out.

As he walked down a street, he saw food cart's littering the sides trying to sell their food, he smiled as he saw a young woman sitting down either writing watching or painting. Max really didn't care which, he just wanted a nice beer.

As he showed up at the tavern and walked in, he smiled and smelt the beer smell in the air.

“Ahh smells so good” Max said as he walked over to the bar tender and ordered some beer.

A few hours later.

Max wondered outside to go take a piss in the bushes by the tavern. As he finished he started to walk back in and heard rustling and whistling nearby.

He stopped to look up at the sky, it was a beautiful orangey color, almost as if the sky itself was on fire, from the sun setting. He smiled he couldn't remember the last time he had been in such a perfect mood. He didn't think anyone could ruin it.

As he stepped up on the patio just before the tavern, he turned around and saw the young lady from before, and being somewhat intoxicated he decided to walk over and say hi, as he got closer he saw fiery red hair and a perfect face, almost as if it was a re headed angel.

“H...Hi I'm Max” He said offering his hand out to be shaked as he realized his voice sounded shaky.

[Whitlen]

Today was a good day.

Whitlen Hadley sat on a stool, her right leg crossed over her left, leaning forward as she painted. Her lithe form was covered by a short sleeved, whisper soft blue blouse the same shade as her eyes, and a pair of dark gray trousers that hugged her hips but flowed down in a straight line, allowing free movement and comfort. Her fiery hair was swept up in a messy bun held together by a knot of black ribbon, a few tendrils escaping to frame her translucent face. There was a wisdom, though, a sadness that hovered over her, giving her the air of being older than her meager 17 years. Despite her own opinion, she looked fresh, well put together, and professional.

A rare smile graced her generous mouth, accented by a silver hoop piercing the flesh there, which glinted a little in the sun. Customer after customer had either requested her services as a portrait artist, or purchased art she had made previously. Her belt pouch weighed heavily on her hip, giving her a sense of satisfaction at odds with her self-doubting nature. At around midday, she splurged and purchased some fried chicken from a nearby vendor, and a handkerchief from another to sop up the grease. The smell had been so heavenly, she just couldn't resist!

Later that day, as the sun was beginning to set, Whitlen found a heady inspiration by the rare colors cascading over the horizon. Her last customer had left, so she seized the moment and did her best to paint what she was seeing. The long brush handle danced and swayed as she poured her heart into the canvas, colors blending flawlessly into something she could nearly describe as her own personal masterpiece. I think I'll keep this one.

Just as she added the final touch to the painting, a slightly shaking male voice awoke her from her trance. Looking up, she saw a man a bit older than herself, his hand extended with the same friendliness that she saw in his face. He exuded shy masculinity, though his height outclassed his body weight, leaving him a little on the thin side to her thinking. That he smelled slightly of alcohol put her only slightly on edge, but did not dissuade her initial assessment that he was not to be feared.

Meeting his grip with her own delicate one, she could see that his skin was a few shades darker than her own, more weathered and worn. "Nice to meet you, Max." Her eyes did most of her smiling for her, as her lips were not as familiar with the expression, though her mouth did curve upward at the corners. "My name is Whitlen," she concluded, her voice soft but strong, with a slight accent implying that she did not hale from Radasanth.

[Lady Blackwell]

Max smiled as Whitlen introduce her self.

“D...Don't mind the smell, I just came from the tavern” max said pointing towards it

He then sat down beside her staring at the picture

“You know, that painting reminds me of my home town, it wasn't a nice place but it was fun at night time, trying to avoid the guards, playing hide and go seek in the throne room of the hierarchy. Well it was fun tell they found out it was me and turned me into a senseless killing machine and sent me off to a nearby bandit clan... they rose me well... well enough for me to leave them and never return seeing all the wrongs and evils they were doing!” Max said as he got up and waited for Whitlen's response.

As he started to walk back towards the tavern he looked to his left and saw 4 or 5 people on one end of the street, and 4 or 5 on the other end all looking at him. Some of the faces seemed somewhat familiar but Max couldn't put a name to the face.

As he stood up on the tavern's porch and was just about to walk inside he heard foot steps sprinting, he spun around on a heel, and saw the people running at Whitlen, and 2 or 3 running at max.

Max ran out to the middle of the street, and drew his two long sword's and spun them all heroically.

“Let's do this!” he said as he jumped towards one of his Assailants and blocked his sword with his one then stabbed him in the neck with his other.

He then followed through with a kick to the one behind him in the groin, dropping him to the ground.

As max slowly stood up he realized Whitlen was gone and all her stuff was knocked over. He looked around to see the guy's take off around a corner with her.

“Whitlen!” Max said as he took off after her, only to get stabbed in the shoulder, he turned around and punched the man in the face. As he pushed mana into his skull stopping brain activity.

Max took off as fast as he could, with a blade in his left shoulder, in the path he had last seen Whitlen and the guy's taking.