To catch a thief...

[Lord Anglekos]

Closed to Reine. All bunnying approved.
He didn't bother putting his armor on, not on this day. Eric didn't trust any of the patrons in the tavern he was staying in as far as he could throw them, which was admittedly not very far, but he didn't think they would steal his iron breastplate and gauntlets; they had both seen better days. In fact, the only things he brought with him as he descended the stairs from his room to the bar was his sword, the twin prevalida daggers he'd obtained in Dheathain, and his bag; he'd stayed here for some time now, and if none of his items had been stolen yet he didn't think they would now. The Madasthala was a dark, dank and somewhat depressive place, lit barely by the sun streaming in through the filthy windows and the candles spread somewhat haphazardly throughout. It's patrons were often like the bar itself, he'd found, and had caught several glares and glances that had made him nervous for both his life and purse. But neither had any attempts at them at this time, so he'd ignored those glances and continued on with his business.

He passed by the door marked with some sign of the sun not for the first time since he'd stayed there, and once again he thought he heard someone behind it. However, he lacked the courage and curiousity to find out exactly what was behind that door, and ignored it like always. The bartender of the place was nondescript in almost every way save his eyes; strange, rainbow orbs that seemed to flicker with every spectrum of light imaginable. They suggested some sort of exotic background, Eric had thought to himself. The guy himself was pretty nice, and usually had a smile or a little conversation ready when the swordsman had gone up to him.

On this morning, however, Eric Anglekos didn't stop for a morning drink or anything. He nodded curtly to the rainbow eyed man before stepping outside into the Fallien sun's rays, raising one hand to shield his eyes from them. He looked around him at the streets of what was known as the Outlander's Quarters. He sighed, both in disgust at the sheer seediness of it and relief that he'd finally be able to get out of the place. Just the other day he'd managed to obtain his exit pass, which would allow him to pass into Fallien without becoming a vagrant, a criminal. And the first thing he planned on doing was getting better a better room; the Madasthala was good enough for a quick stay, but not for the length of time he planned on being here in Fallien.

He'd headed to the region after he'd gotten his papers in Radasanth for becoming a soldier in the Raiaeran army. He didn't want to get involved in the war just yet, however, and he'd heard many stories about the wonders and exotic wonders of Fallien. If he was going to die in a war, he figured he may as well see as much of the world as possible before doing so. Sooner or later he knew his soldier's blood would call him back to the drums of battle, but until then there was no harm in enjoying himself.

Boots crunching on the gravel of the Quarters, he was met by two guards standing stoicly in front of the gates blocking the way to the main island of Irrakam. They were dark skinned and haired, and unsurprisingly looked very much like one another. Permanent frowns creased their faces, and those frowns did not change a bit as Eric approached. "Pass?" Growled the one on the right, shifting the grip on his spear slightly. Wordlessly the swordsman flipped the sheet of paper with the stamp of approval on it in front of him, and the guard nodded and gestured to another in the tower by the gate. There was a small noise, and the gate slowly began opening up.

Wearing nothing but his clothes, his sword, his daggers and his bag, Eric Anglekos stepped into Irrakam for the first time.

[Reine]

Faelynn placed her hands on her hips as she looked at the massive gate in front of her. The structure was made of wood, metal and stone and quite impressive, though she’d scaled higher. Not that she was about to do that in this situation. What was she about to do though was lose her well kept temper on some poor guard. She’d been arguing with the poor man for the past ten minutes and seemed to have hit a brick wall. He was immoveable and wouldn’t even budge on the subject no matter what she said. It came down to the fact that he controlled the lever to raise the gate and she couldn’t get by unless he said so, even though she did have the necessary paper work.

“Honestly, I don’t see the issue here. I go into The Outlander’s Quarters; I come out of The Outlander’s Quarters. It’s not like I can do any more damage in there than has already been done and I already have an exit pass. Want to see it for the billionth time?”

The good mood Fae had been experiencing all day was slowly beginning to melt away, all because of one obnoxious guard that thought ‘helpless, little women’ should not wander around The Outlander’s Quarters on their own. Did he forget that his entire country was run by some helpless little woman? Ugh, honestly, men, where did they get this stronger than thou kind of attitude? It’s like they need something to protect to make their boorish lives so much more bearable, even in this civilized of a place.

“I don’t want to see it, miss...” He heavily accented voice commented.

She’d started this conversation off in Fallien, but when she tended to get upset she switched to the language she could swear the most in and that happened to be Common. Luckily for him she hadn’t started swearing and he appeared to know some Common as well. It probably helped when you worked a post that required you to speak to a lot of foreigners.

“Look, I just want to go in... I’m allowed to, I know this, I’ve done it before.”

The day had started off rather good for her. She’d taken a quick trip to the market and bought a few new outfits, but now it had turned to this dismal argument. Don’t get her wrong, she loved Fallien, down to the last grain of sand in its desert. She loved the heat, the sun, the endless blue skies and the colourful sand below. She even loved the people, though sometimes they didn’t love her, and she especially loved all the colours. It was such a bright country. Everywhere she looked pinks, purples, blues, reds, oranges, they were everywhere, lining every shop, house and person. Even she had partaken in the ritual a few times. Today though she needed to blend in and not stand out, so she’d worn a pair of beige pants and a deep purple sleeveless shirt a little low cut on the top and a high cut on the bottom. Her spear folded into its three foot state lay on her back in a sheath and her Bag of Infinity lay on top of it.

“It’s a matter of safety, miss; we’ve received word that The Cult of Mitra is moving within The Outlander’s Quarters.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, the long nails digging into the calloused skin of her palms. Her mouth opened, ready to throw one retort or anything at him, a myriad of them flying through her head at once and merely waiting for her to snatch the best one. She never got the chance to. Instead, the massive gate feet from her began to slowly lift up and leave her mouth hanging open, for a second or two at least.

Quickly regaining her composure, Faelynn smiled at the guard who looked slightly perturbed at this turn of events. As she watched, she could see the world on the other side of the gate come into view. The first thing she saw were the buildings and their shoddy construction, the dull colours of the stone used in place of the bright pinks and oranges that lined the streets of Irrakam. However, in the end it was not the architecture that caught her eyes, it was the man standing on the other side with an exit pass held tightly in his hands, probably the real reason the gate was lowered. He was an adventurer for sure; possibly even a warrior if he could actually use those weapons lining his body. And if anyone wanted her opinion, which she was sure everyone did, quite the looker too.

Inclining her head to the guardsman who only grumbled, Faelynn walked forward, her bad mood completely erased from her mind. She never let her eyes leave the man as he walked by her, a slight smile playing on her lips and glitter in her eyes. She’d haunt his dreams for the next few nights.

With a sway of her hips she moved past him and into the seedy world of The Outlander’s Quarters. It really wasn’t that bad of a place to be as long as you kept a close eye on your purse and weapons in plain side. Steel seemed to have this effect on people, it made them leave you be for easier pray. Of course there were the occasional people that doubted whether or not you could use that weapon lining your back, but a quick lesson always proved them wrong.

It wasn’t a long walk through the dumpy streets and their odd smell to Madasthala, a tavern that Faelynn received many of Reine’s missions in. Reaching the rather nondescript building, Faelynn pushed the door open and almost recoiled at the smell within. Sweating bodies, stale beer and rotting food met her nose and caused her eyes to water. She quickly hid her discomfort and walked in with a sure stride, knowing that confidence was the key to coming out of this building alive, that and the fact that she had a free pass into the back room. No one would ever dare to touch her. Nodding to the bartender, Faelynn opened the door with the sun painted into the faded wood and strode in.

[Lord Anglekos]

She was young, and she was beautiful. That was for certain about the girl who strode confidently before him now and into the very place that he was leaving. Her eyes glittered an exotic golden-green in the morning light, sparkling merrily along with the telltale smirk playing along the bottom half of her face. Those eyes seemed fixed upon him as she walked forward in a confident and slightly seductive manner, hips swaying with that feminine grace that all women seemed to possess once they reached past the age where they thought boys were gross and had cooties. He'd only taken a couple of steps forward, but unknown to himself he'd stopped at the sight of those eyes focused upon him, and a blush crept up his neck at her obvious interest in him, splashing themselves within the skin of his cheeks. As she walked by he shifted from foot to foot nervously and he broke his eye contact with her, but inside he was yelling at himself for feeling like such a fool. Why is it that I feel like a virgin teenager every time a woman shows the least bit of attention to me? He sighed at the thought and looked back over his shoulder at her, noticing the weapon upon her back that looked folded somehow and her own bag. I'm twenty years old for god's sake. Not a little boy that needs to be led by the hand. Nevertheless, he turned away from the woman and continued walking on, fixing his hair slightly and ignoring the glances the guard was giving him.

Almost casually his hand drifted down to where his sword lay in it's sheath and caressed the golden locks dangling from it's hilt, and he closed his eyes. He'd been attracted to the woman that had walked past him, that was undeniable. She'd possessed a charismatic charm, a confidence within herself that made her appeal hard to resist. But it was still too soon. How long... His thoughts ran rampant within himself as he thought about the woman who's hair was now dangling in a tassel on his hilt. Her face almost immediately came to his mind, waiting at his beck and call, her smile bringing one of his own to the Fallien light. How long has it been, Amalia? Two years, three? How long since you died and left me to wander without you... He looked down at his sword and sighed. No, he wasn't ready to move on, not just yet.

As he continued walking he found, not to his surprise, that the conditions around him grew better and better with each step. The construction of the houses and shops grew much better in quality and grander in scale, and the people wore better and brighter clothing, flashing gloriously in the sunlight with brilliant finesse, doubtless traits from their makers. But not only were the clothing brighter and more elegant, but so were the people. It was as if he'd stepped into another realm, Eric felt, where his dark clothes and thoughts were anathema. He suddenly felt an itching discomfort as he felt he didn't really belong here. Even the woman he'd passed by walking into the Outlander's Quarters had worn brighter clothing than he, he realized.

Perhaps it was time for a change in wardrobe, Eric thought to himself as he looked down upon the ragged and worn black tee and the dark blue pants that had also seen better days. Sturdier clothing, perhaps? If all else failed, he smirked to himself, he also had his shirts and pants back in the room. But as he reached into the bag and jingled his purse around a bit to make sure his well-earned gold was still safe within, he didn't think he would have much of a problem.


~+~


It did not take him long to find the Merchant's Walkway. He hadn't know about this huge bazaar until he'd swallowed his pride and asked someone on the street where the best place to get quality items was, here. The man had laughed jovially and after noting the fact that Eric must be a foreigner had gave him directions to "a shopper's heaven". Somewhat put off by the vague answer, Eric had asked around and was told that the "heaven" was the Merchant's Walkway, where one could find almost anything if they looked hard enough.

His first thought upon seeing it for the first time was just how busy the place looked. It didn't look chaotic to say, just busy. And the noise was almost overwhelming; Eric could barely think through the buzz of all the hammers, shoppers, merchants, everything. He felt like an ant moving amongst ants as he stumbled through the crowd, trying to find his bearings amongst the flow of bodies and metal. By god above it would be easy to get robbed here. He thought to himself almost in panic and clutched at his bag tighter.

As if bidden by the action, he felt a tug at the leather container that came not from his hand, and out of the corner of his eye Eric spotted a scarred but thin hand pulling away and back into the folds of a cloak. "Hey!" Eric tried catching his would-be thief's attention, but the figure had already moved on into the rest of the crowd, blending in with the faces and bodies almost like magic. Damned be this place. He thought to himself. He really needed to get some new clothes, now; his current attire almost screamed foreigner, painting a target on him for thieves looking to earn a bit of cash.

With that somewhat panic-driven thought in mind, Eric pushed through the crowd and searched for a merchant who could help him blend in to the rest of the crowd. At least, before it was too late; he'd already had one attempt upon his possessions. Who knew when the next could come?

[Reine]

Adjal looked up from the disaster that happened to be her office. It would have been a fair, comfortable size if not for all the papers, clothes and occasional broken items littering the floor. There was a method to her madness though. Everything was strewn about in the order of which she had gotten angry at first. Honestly, she had this placed cleaned two days ago, but then all these reports had come in. She hated these reports, mostly because none of them happened to be good at this point in time. Their numbers were their lowest in a long time, due to their loss during their own siege of Irrakam. It made her so angry just thinking about that stupid war and what it had cost her.

Wrapping her fingers around the ornate letter open on her desk, Adjal tossed it at the wall. At the same time, the door to her office opened and a familiar face walked in, right as the letter opener turned throwing dagger impacted in the wall inches from her head.

“Nice to see you too, Adjal.”

A smile spread across the beautiful woman’s face. She even calmly plucked the dagger from the wall and walked towards the desk, where she sat it down on a stack of papers.

“Faelynn... I was beginning to worry you’d never show up. Drink?”

“Only if you—”

“Have the good stuff.” She finished for Faelynn as the other woman took a seat on the edge of her desk.

Opening one the drawers on her desk, Adjal reached inside and pulled out a bit of a dusty bottle of wine and two glasses. She inspected them to check for cleanliness and once satisfied poured two glasses of the blood red liquid, imported from some land she never cared about. Handing one to Faelynn, she drained half her glass in one go, needing the relief of the alcohol.

Faelynn took a small sip of the wine, letting its robust taste linger on her tongue a while before letting it slide down her throat. She loved this stuff and she could only find it in Fallien and in this specific tavern, mainly because Adjal refused to tell her where they imported it from. Probably some far off place like Dheathain or Raiaera, neither of which she had much interest in going to. Sadly though, her visit had not brought her to Madasthala solely for a drink of wine and interesting conversation. She was here for a job.

“So, I hear you’ve got a job for Reine.”

“I do,” Adjal said as she drained the other half of her glass. How the woman didn’t get drunk off this stuff Fae would never know. “I think you need to leave Reine and start working solely for us.”

She smiled, knowing that Adjal was half joking and half serious. Of course, she didn’t really know that Faelynn was Reine and her acting as a job finder was a mere cover. No one knew that and Faelynn planned on keeping it that way for a long time.

Instead of answering the woman, she merely drank from her wine and waited for her to continue.

“Okay... fine.”

Once again she reached into a drawer on the desk, her hand coming out in a loose fist. Without warning, she tossed something that glittered in Faelynn’s direction. Not even thinking about it, her reflexes took over and she reached out, grasping the small, cold item in her long fingers.

“I swear you should think about becoming a thief yourself.” Adjal commented.

“Oh, I’ve thought about it, but I love sleeping in my nice, warm bed just a little too much to go sneaking through the shadows of a city at forbidden times of the night.”

Both of them chuckled softly.

Opening her hand, Faelynn looked at the small, almost see-through bead of green glass that lay in her palm.

“Reine’s job is as follows; she’s to place this bead on a specific kite. Yes, a kite.”

Faelynn blinked as she stared at the piece of jewellery. “That’s it?”

“It’s not as easy as you think.” The woman began shuffling around her desk, looking for something specific. Finally, she came across an envelope sealed with the sign of the sun, which she quickly tossed at her. “The exact details can be found in there, including what building the kites are being stored in and the description of the kite she needs to put it on. There’s a tournament starting in two days and the bead needs to be on before then otherwise we’ll have lost our chance.”

Fae tucked the bead and the envelope into her Bag of Infinity and drained the contents of her glass. “How much?”

She other woman smirked. “She’ll be happy with this one, 800 gold pieces.”

Had she not already finished her wine, Faelynn might have choked on it. “800 for a kite? No wait, I don’t want to know. You know how we operate, no questions, no information. I don’t want to know why you want a bead on a kite.”

Adjal nodded, the woman had great respect for the way they operated, especially since were Reine to get caught she could never tell anything to the Jya or her guards, she knew nothing to tell.

Standing, Faelynn turned away from Adjal and moved towards the door with a wave of her hand, “I’ll see you when the job is done.” Then she left the back room and the Madasthala, heading back towards Irrakam and her Inn where she could get some food and begin studying.

[Lord Anglekos]

"Oi!" Snapped the voice of the man leaning on the counter, a toothpick fiddling around in his mouth. Eric turned, brought out of his thoughts as he went through the clothing for the umpteenth time. No matter how many times he had done so, however, he had not been able to find anything that had suited his tastes. He'd kept looking, however; if he was anything, it was persistent. "Are ya just gonna walk around all day or buy somethin'? I've gotta business to run 'ere, c'mon!"


"Sorry," Eric apologized almost reflexively; it hadn't been the first time today as he had wandered through the Merchant's Walkway. Apologizing almost seemed natural now, like walking. "Just can't seem to find anything I like is all."

The proprietor grumbled. "Well, what're you lookin' for? I could 'elp."

"I don't know. Just something sturdy, but wouldn't..." Eric floundered as he searched for the right words, waving his hands in a silent effort to find them. After a couple moments he decided to just be blunt about it. "That wouldn't label me as such a foreigner."

To his surprise, the man chuckled and took the toothpick out of his mouth, before tossing it to the side and reaching in his pocket for another. "Get robbed, did ya?"

Eric winced. "Almost. Thrice."

"What can ya say? Fresh meat." The proprietor chuckled again. "Tell ya what. I'mma good guy, so I'll make a couple educated guesses and 'elp you out."

Uh oh. Thought Eric, but he kept those thoughts to himself. "Okay."

"You're wearin' a fair 'mount of weapons there, so I'm gonna take it that you know 'ow to use 'em." The man stood up straight and walked around the counter, gesturing as he spoke. "Or, you want people to think you do, which isn't a bad idea in 'etself. Right?"

The swordsman knew it was a rhetorical question, but he felt obligated to answer. "Right."

"Right." The man said after him a split second later, as if answering himself, and continued on. "I can see you're not wearin' any armor, so either you don't like it or you're lookin' for some. And you said sturdy, so..." For a couple moments the man was silent, tapping his chin thoughtfully before he reached under the counter and pulled out a fountain pen and paper. With a few scribbles and dots, the man clicked the pen back and threw it back under the counter before handing the slip of paper to Eric. "The Tolgorath. Place run by a friend o'mine, a dwarf by the name of Breezeborne. Fierce lil' guy, so don't the name fool you." He chuckled again, as if reliving some private memory. "Just tell 'im ol' Sword-Fin sent you and you'll be sure to get a good bargain."

Eric looked down at the paper given to him and saw on it the name of the store and directions to it. They were complicated looking at first, but Eric rarely got lost, so he was confident he could find this place. "Thanks, Mr. Sword-" He began, but the man was already engaged in another conversation, trying to sell some linen to a flustered-looking woman with bright blue hair. Shaking his head with a small smile, Eric exited the tent and went back to the chaos of the Merchant's Walkway.


~+~


By the time Eric reached the Tolgorath it was already midday. He looked up at the sun hanging in the sky, shading his eyes so he wouldn't be blinded, and sighed. Where did the time go? Was this place not only full of thieves that pocketed gold and items, but time itself? At this rate he would have to become a thief himself in order to keep up with things, he thought half-jokingly as he opened a broad door that led into the shade of the store.

Or, what he thought was a store. The door led into a large building, much larger than the average tent most merchants had set up along the Walkway. Inside, however, was the last thing he expected to see; a forge. Yeah, maybe in the back, but out here, in front? Wasn't this a store, not a smithy? He blinked around as he saw no one, and was about to leave when suddenly a door to the side opened and a stout figure marched in.

Broad shouldered and thick-fingered, the dwarf that must be Breezeborne, Eric thought to himself, didn't look like he'd expected. Maybe it was the way he moved or his dress or something, but mostly Eric believed it was the lack of the one thing all male dwarves were supposed to be told to have; a beard. There was some stubble on the dwarf's chin, yes, but the long, thick beard that their race was known for to be proud of was not there, and it disturbed Eric in ways that he didn't realize he could be disturbed. Breezeborne had black hair that was tied back in a bushy ponytail, and wore what looked to be a chef's apron covered in soot as he approached the swordsman with a fierce frown etched upon his face.

The dwarf took one look at Eric, dressed in his attire and standing there holding the slip of paper, and turned back to the door from which he entered. "GIRL!" He roared, and the swordsman winced in surprise.

A distinctly female voice answered the call. "What?" It asked, an annoyed note throbbing in the echo of the building.

"Customer fer ya!" The dwarf shouted back, and muttering to himself started to the forge where a glowing-red shard of steel lay.

"Um, actually..." Eric interrupted hesitantly, somewhat frightened by the abrupt manner of the dwarf, and by the fact that he was now holding a hammer. "...Sword-Fin told me to see you, mister Breezeborne."

The dwarf spun around and fixed Eric with a dark gaze. " He did, did he?" The dwarf spat as if he had something bad in his mouth. "Stupid fool. I told 'im..." The rest was lost in another stream of guttaral mutters, and Eric felt as if he should just leave now. It was obvious he was caught up in something he didn't need to be.

But just as Eric was going to turn around and exit, the dwarf spoke up again. "Alright, alright. Whaddya want?" He asked the swordsman impatiently. "What're ya looking for, eh? Armor, new sword, what?"

Just then another figured entered the scene, preventing Eric from answering. She entered from the same door the dwarf had, and yet was unlike the latter in almost every aspect. She was taller than Breezeborne yet shorter than Eric, somewhere around 5'5" or 5'4" he would have guessed, and moved with the casual grace of someone who felt they had all the time in the world. She wore a dark blue dress that her form filled out comfortably, but not excessively, and her hair was the same color, looking almost black in the dark of the forge. It shone with almost a lustrous glow in the firelight, as if the light were reflecting off it somehow, and heavy lidded dark eyes gazed at Eric dispassionately. Crossing a pair of silken gloved arms over her breasts, she asked in a bored voice, "Well?"

"Nothin', Marissa." The dwarf waved her away, and she rolled her eyes as she walked away as slowly and casually as she had come. With that he turned back to Eric, who stood there looking after the woman before snapping his head back at the dwarf's next words. "Well, what will it be, boy?"

[Reine]

By the time Faelynn managed to get back into Irrakam and away from The Outlander’s Quarters, the sun was already past the half way mark in the sky. She had planned on going back to The Merchant’s Walkway. An old friend of hers worked there, one good with a hammer and a forge and proficient in making some more...interesting items. It was a hard persuasion to get him to play with one of his babies, even for the night, but she was a fast talker and sometimes had even faster hands and feet. He always forgave her the next day by asking how it had the item had performed. Now though, she needed to get back to the Artana Aphulla or The Desert Rose for those who could already read it.

It took her yet more needed time to get back to The Desert Rose. It was a prominent place really. Nice rooms, great food and good drinks all at a great price. It was also close to The Merchant’s Walkway, which made it even more tempting for Faelynn to just skip her way over there. However, work unfortunately came first, especially when it was paying her this much for not even stealing something.

The building looked like none of the others in the area, being both the tallest and more colourful. The stone was a sharp pink mixed with a few stones that almost took on a light purple hew. A large red awning covered the front, providing shade for the few early patrons sitting amongst the iron-wrought tables and chairs, enjoying a light meal prepared by the kitchen. Above the modest looking door compared to the rest of the outside, a sign hung limp in the nonexistent winds of this region. It sported a glass of wine with a rose twisting around the stem and blooming bright and red against the dull brown colour of the backdrop. The colour had begun to fade now, but it was still a beautifully painted sign.

Walking into the shade of the building, Faelynn immediately felt a sigh of relief pass through her. As much as she loved the heat and the sun, sometimes she needed a break from it. The cool interior of The Desert Rose provided her with just such a thing. On her way past the front desk, she waved to the lady that ran the establishment, a nice woman, a little older in her years but still looking rather striking despite it. Or maybe that was just Faelynn. She thought that most of the Fallien people were quite beautiful with their exotic features, something she wished she possessed.

Moving into the tavern, Faelynn took a seat in one of the booths and slipped her Bag of Infinity and Amalia off her back to get more comfortable. Stretching out, she waited for one of the waitresses to come over, thankfully it was rather slow right now and it didn’t take Cirai too long. After all, there were only three other patrons in the place besides Fae, not that that would last for too much longer. This place tended to get rather busy at night and not just with the patrons staying here. Apparently it was quite popular with the locals.

“Whut ye be havin’, missus?”

“Start me off with a pint of beer, whatever you think is best, Cirai, with some breads and cheeses. If I’m feeling up for more than just that I’ll let you know.”

“Sure thing.”

The waitress quickly left her alone and went back to the kitchen. Reaching into her Bag, Faelynn pulled out the letter Adjal had given her and open it, purposefully destroying the seal past the point of recognition. She dealt with people not usually regarded to highly and the Cult of Mitra tended to be one in particular not very welcomed in Fallien. The last thing she needed was to be singled out in some kind of way. Quickly her eyes scanned the blueprints hand drawn on the piece of paper as well as entry instructions, guard positions and information of possible times of the night to make such an entrance. The place was apparently quite close to The Palace and as such extra caution would be taken, not to mention the guards.

Honestly... who guards a bunch of kites? These people must take their kite flying very seriously.

Just then Cirai came back with her drink and platter of food and Faelynn carefully concealed the papers from her eyes as she set everything down.

“Thanks.”

Taking a sip of the ice cold beverage, Faelynn finally began to slip into a state of relaxation. She couldn’t drink too much if she expected to get this over with tonig—

“I have a package here for Faelynn Thiadore...”

Faelynn blinked and looked up from the platter of food she was currently stuffing into her mouth. There was a rather handsome looking young man talking to the owner. He held a package in his hand and she could have sworn she had just heard her name come out of his mouth. As she continued to walk, the owner glanced at her and nodded her hand. Curious, Faelynn walked over to the two of them.

“Faelynn Thiadore?”

His heavily accented voice pronounced her name wrong, but she nodded her head anyway without correcting him.

“This is for you, from Underwood.”

She blinked as she looked at the small package and the letter attached to it. “Underwood?” as she looked at the letter again she saw her brother’s name written on the envelope.

“Oh my God, it’s from Ferynn!!!” She practically squealed.

Grabbing the package from the young man’s hands, Faelynn jumped up and down about three times, hugging it to her chest before hugging the post boy and giving him a kiss. Then she turned and skipped her way back into the tavern and her little booth.

[Lord Anglekos]

Now that he was inside and away from the dangers of the street, some of his confidence came back to him and Eric began to doubt himself as he sat down, looking sideways at himself in the mirror. Sure, his outfit may be worn out and not look completely new in respect to the nobles of Fallien, but he liked how he looked; it was why he wore what he did in the first place. He could always just get a few more simple black tee shirts and blue pants for a few gold coins at a later time, and probably on the Walkway as well while he was here. So what if he looked like a foreigner? He thought indignantly to himself. He shouldn't have to change just because a few thieves thought he was "fresh meat", as the man earlier had so eloquently put it.

Looking down at his outfit to his boot-covered toes, however, he did realize that he needed some new shoes. The black, leather boots he'd been wearing since he came from Saleria were falling apart, it seemed, under his very gaze; they were torn and filthy, the straps loose here and there, and now they clumped awkwardly whenever he walked. He looked to the dwarf, who was busy talking with the girl he'd called "Marissa", and ruffled his brown hair awkwardly. He'd told the dwarf he was looking for some quality clothing, anything to keep the thieves from noticing him on the street; something to help him blend in. Breezeborne had snorted and said that he was no seamstress, but "the girl" could help him instead, and with that had gone over to the other room to talk to her.

Eric cleared his throat before he spoke. "Actually..." He said loudly to make sure he was heard, and was not disappointed. Both of their heads looked towards him. "...scratch that. What I really need is a good pair of footwear that won't die on me while I'm traveling, if you know what I mean." Inside he grinned at his choice of words; with his confidence had come back his natural charm, it seemed. He was no incubus, but Eric usually relied more upon the force of his personality to settle things rather than his sword, and the disappearance of it had been somewhat alarming.

"Anything you're looking for in particular?" Marissa asked in that slow, bored voice of hers, sounding as if at any moment she was going to yawn.

"Not really..." Eric stood up and came forward. "I guess anything better than what I'm wearing now would be nice." He stopped, then added, almost as an afterthought, "If they were enchanted that would be a plus." He chuckled, as if he were kidding.

"Enchanted you say, boy?" The dwarf answered instead, and stroked his chin thoughtfully with his thick fingers. Eric thought it would have looked much more realistic if the short, broad shouldered man had a beard to stroke instead. "Hmm...c'mere, I've got something you may like then."

The swordsman followed Breezeborne into another room, where sets of armor and weapons hung ready to be plucked off the walls. The soldier in Eric was drawn the sharp smell of the death-dealing weapons, the scent of new metal hanging in the air that was almost so tangible he could taste it. Looking around, he saw several pieces here and there he would've liked to try or wear, but the dwarf did not stop; he kept going, all the way to the end of the room, where Eric saw several sets of armored footwear and gauntlets sitting together.

"A little while back," The dwarf began gruffly, looking through the items as if searching for something. "We started makin' these sets of gauntlets and greaves, as you can see 'ere. Didn't sell well, so my wife set about to enchantin' them."

Eric blinked. "Your wife?"

"Aye."

"She works with you?"

Breezeborne looked at the swordsman as if the latter were stupid. "Ya saw her, didn't you?"

Eric gaped as he realized the dwarf meant Marissa. "But...the way you talk to each other...I thought she was..." He waved his hands about, trying to find the words and failing.

"Well, she be my wife." Breezeborne growled, signaling the end of the subject, and Eric let it drop, as well as his hands. "Anyways, here they are. Mind you, they'll cost a pretty penny; she put hard work into these beauties."

It wasn't long before Eric, under the scrutinizing eye of the dwarven blacksmith, found a set that he liked. He'd always liked dark colors, and the metal armor he put on was exactly that; a gunpowder black that looked almost like ash under the lights of the room. He hadn't been expecting the dwarf to answer his request with metal boots, but he was curious about the enchantment upon them and wanted to find out how they felt. The dwarf had said nothing upon Eric's request as to what it was, and as the warrior slipped on the fingerless armguards that had come with the footgear he felt a little suspicion at the silence. What if this was all just some sort of scheme? If it was, though, it was too late to back out now.

He flexed his fingers, looking at the armor now covering his forearms completely and the odd sigils upon both the armguards and the boots. They were not stark white, but the pale lines of white against the dark of the armor were intriguing and attracted the eye. Both the boots and guards were lighter than he'd expected, but..."Well?" He asked Breezeborne once more. "What's the enchantment?"

The dwarf only smirked. "Stand up, boy, and find out."

Irritated at the short man, Eric did stand up and stepped forward. As his right foot met the floor, however, it was then he realized just what the enchantment was. He blinked at Breezeborne in surprise. "The boots cancel out sound?" He asked rhetorically, for he already knew the answer.

"Aye." The dwarf answered anyways. "The Tabi set. Meant to sell 'em to the very type of people that 'ave been trying to rob you." He chuckled.

Eric felt a flush of heat rise up into his face but ignored it. He was a bit shocked; they didn't soften the noise or dull it but instead cancelled it out completely. Every one of his senses told him he'd moved...except his ears. It was a bit disorientating. He lifted up his arm at his next question. "Do these do the same thing?"

"Aye."

Still doubting, Eric tapped the armor against the wall, expecting to hear the familiar clang of metal being struck. Once again, he was disappointed, and the only thing that greeted his ears was the chuckle of the dwarf standing by.

He had only one more question for the dwarf. "How much?"


~+~


Eric was wincing when he left the dwarf's smithy and stepped into the sunlight. Even with the discount Breezeborne had given him, the price had attacked the swordsman's purse with a vicious frenzy, and as he jangled what was left in the leather bag he kept his money in, he was saddened by how much emptier it sounded. But that sadness was quickly overrun by the feeling of growing happiness as he stepped silently into the street, his new armor making no sound at all as he strode confidently forward.

Now, to find a new place to stay, he thought to himself. He could always go back and get his stuff later, assuming that it hadn't been stolen, but at the moment he wanted a good meal; he was hungry, and hadn't eaten since dinner last night. He looked up in the sky to check the time and saw that it was definitely past midday; boy, did the time fly here. Maybe there were such things as thieves of time after all.

Fortunately, it did not take him long for him to find an establishment; the name had attracted him foremost before he even saw the quality of the food and customers walking in and out of it. The Desert Rose, it proclaimed itself to be, and abruptly Eric thought of the draconian he'd worked with in Dheathain. She too had been named Rose, although upon their first meeting she insisted upon him calling her "Eros dar Decarabia". As time had passed, however, they'd grown more familiar and friendly, and eventually she had him call her Rose. Smiling a little at the memory he marched (silently, he thought triumphantly to himself) inside the popular tavern without a second thought.

Amongst the hullabaloo of all the people around and inside the place, he didn't even notice the girl he'd passed by this morning until a loud squeal caused him to look around in alarm. "Oh my God, it's from Ferynn!!" The distinctly female voice echoed through the building, and Eric heard several laughs and snickers here and there at the girl's behavior. He didn't even know it was her, however, until he saw that familiar purple shirt and her hair bouncing merrily as she pratically skipped back inside and to her own little booth, where he saw papers of some sort scattered here and there.

She didn't seem to see him or know he was there, so he sighed almost in disappointment and moved on (silently, the thought again coming to mind with an inner smirk). Making his way to an empty table on the west side of the room, a waitress soon came over with a notepad and a smile. He smiled back; food sounded really good right now.

[Reine]

Faelynn practically threw herself onto the seat of the booth. She quickly gathered up all the papers she had scattered around of her mission and stuffed them into her Bag, not really caring as to their condition. Then she tore open the letter that Ferynn had given her and began reading it as if the words therein would somehow save her life. Oh, she missed her brother so badly and she couldn’t wait to see what he had sent to her this time. After all her birthday was coming up soon, so this was probably an early present! Maybe he’d made her a new spear. Wow, it would have to have one cool enchantment on it to fit into the small package now sitting on the table of her booth.

Hey sis,

Things back in Underwood are just about as boring as they always are. Nothing new to really tell you other than Pop nearly cut off one of his fingers the other day. Honestly, he should stop messing around in that old forge. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be. Enough of that though, I have a little something for you. I suppose it could be an early birthday present, but only if it works, which neither Connaire nor myself think it will. However, you’re the perfect person to test it out for us. Open the box in private and definitely try it on in private, but get back to me as soon as you can on how it turns out! I don’t want to be left in dark on this one.

From Ferynn

P.S. Don’t forget my souvenir this time!

A smile had begun to spread across her face the moment she had begun to read. Now that she was finish, the smile was huge and practically spanned from one ear to the next. Her curiosity was almost more than she could take. She wanted to open it right now, here, in public, not even caring what the letter said, but she knew her brother put things like that in letters for a reason. It was probably something experimental and well, who knows what could happen. One time she had a piece of armour blow up on her when she tried it on and tried to activate the enchantment. Somehow she’d survived with only minor scrapes and bruises.

Hugging the letter to her chest, Faelynn sighed and then quickly tucked it and the box into her bag. She would open it later tonight, before she went on her job. After all, it might help her in some way. Grabbing her glass of beer, she drank down a good portion of the contents, glancing around the room at the same time. As she did, her eyes happen to fall upon a certain individual, one they had seen before. One they had highly appreciated before.

Do my eyes deceive me...

They didn’t. The man she had seen at the gate to The Outlander’s Quarters was now sitting on the other side of the tavern, talking to Cirai, the serving wench. Smiling, Faelynn set down her beer and made sure all of her papers were away. After all, she couldn’t have him see detailed blueprints to a building she should know nothing about, now could she? Who knows who he was working for.

Standing up, she straightened her clothes and made sure she didn’t have any wayward strands of hair sticking up anywhere. Then with a slight smirk playing at her lips, she walked over to his table. Without notice, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, almost in a lovers embrace. He tensed, but she didn’t mind.

“Hey, Cirai, whatever he’s ordered, send it over to my table.” She said in a low and almost seductive tone.

“Sure thing, missus.”

The waitress quickly turned and left the two of them alone, well almost alone. There were other patrons in the tavern after all.

“Nice to see you again, stranger.” She whispered into his ear. “Come on, you should join me for dinner. After all, it’s nice to spend time with a friendly face in a place like this.”

Before he could protest, Faelynn grabbed him by the arm and began dragging him back to her table. Not that dragging seemed necessary for he didn’t put up much a fight. He did stutter a bit, in a rather cute kind of manner.

[Lord Anglekos]

Before the swordsman could protest he was almost literally dragged across the room to where the woman's table was, by one of the windows of the tavern. He hadn't heard or noticed her approach at all, and that, beyond the fact that she'd been so intimate with him in that one single moment, disturbed him most of all. He was a soldier, and had lived with a soldier's instincts and observational abilities for years now, and yet he'd felt nothing before that moment when she'd wrapped her arms around him. Who was she, and how was she able to sneak by his instincts like that? Was it him? Was he slowly dulling down from days spent without having to jump at every loud sound? Was he slowly becoming just another man?

These and a thousand other questions ran in circles in his head, and he didn't even realize he and the girl had stopped until she cleared her throat and gestured for him to sit down. He did so, moving his sword so he could, and fidgeted awkwardly, half expecting the smiling and seductive stranger to sit next to him. She didn't, however, and instead took her place across from him. As if this simple fact were a statement, his shoulders relaxed a little and his grip on the hilt of his blade under the table relaxed. He put his elbows on the table, putting aside good table manners, and folded his hands together as he examined his new...companion closer.

Those same strange green and gold eyes sparkled as the woman noticed him examining her, and her smile widened flirtatiously. Trying to ignore her interest in him, he leaned forward on his elbows and jerked one thumb back to his original spot. "So...what was that all about?" He asked her, not willing to believe the words she'd whispered into his ear.

However, that lack of belief was slowly eroded away as that seductive smile slid away to a hurt look upon her face, and Eric felt an empathetic dagger stab him in the heart at her next words. "You mean...you don't want to sit and have a meal with me?" Her lower lip trembled slightly as she spoke, and inwardly he winced.

Great. Why don't you just punch her in the face while you're at it, kid. It would be faster and probably hurt less. Eric's inner dialogue chided him, and he leaned back and crossed his arms uncomfortably. But as he looked at the table before, he saw that she'd put the papers she had out away, and seeing as she'd come and gotten him, she must've not wanted him to see what was on the papers. That very fact put Eric's emotional barriers back up again, along with his suspicion. "I don't even know your name." He replied to her question simply, trying to appeal to her nature while not seeming to be eager to please. It was harder than it sounds.

That smile returned as quickly and easily as a lamplight, and Eric was somewhat taken aback by it's sudden reappearance. "The name's Faelynn Thiadore." She answered his unspoken question, and her last name had a strange tilt or roll to it that he didn't think he could pronounce. She held her hand out for him to shake. "Do I get a name to whisper in the middle of the night, or should I continue to call you stranger?"

Eric blushed at her words, but he reached out and took her hand nonetheless, shaking it while his fingers examined her skin. What they touched was soft enough, but the sensitive flesh detected calloused marks here and there from whatever profession she was in. He smiled a little, trying to ease up the tension in his body. "I'm not mysterious enough to be called 'stranger' all the time, so I guess you'll have to settle with my name." He hesitated just a fraction of a second before he went onwards. "Anglekos. Eric Anglekos. Pleased to meet you, Ms. Thiadore." On her name, his voice stuttered, and he cursed his nervousness.

Faelynn giggled, and he felt another slight blush creep up in embarrassment. Was she laughing at him? He wondered, but as her own fingers crept stealthily along his own palm he blinked. Was she examining him, as he had her? Before he could ascertain so, she let go, and their hands returned to their original positions. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Eric. And please, call me Fae or Faelynn, but not Ms. Thiadore. I am far too young for that."

Too young? Just how young was she, he was about to ask, then restrained the question. If he'd learned anything about women, it was not to mention their age or weight. He'd earned a couple bruises from his learning experiences. "Ah, I see." He cleared his throat. "Well then Faelynn, as you wish. So...why?" He gestured to the table he'd been sitting at before again. "Why...did you do what you did? I'm not a friendly face, as you put it." He blushed at how harsh his words sounded. "Forgive my suspicion, I just...am not used to such....forward tactics." Dammit! He berated himself. What kind of word to use was tactics?!

She laughed before responding with a glimmer in her eyes that suggested she knew just what he was thinking. "If one does not make a tactical assault they will get nowhere in life. As for your question, why not? You appear to be traveling alone, I'm alone; why not alleviate some of that with company?" She stretched, her arms rising up above her, and her shirt shifted just enough to show him a partial patch of cleavage peeking out from the purple cloth she wore. "I can be quite good company." She winked at him suggestively.

Eric did not had that much experience with women; in fact, Amalia had been his first and last he'd been with, and she'd been totally unlike the flirtatious brunette before him. Still, he wasn't so naive that he could not hear the insinuation behind her words, and once again he felt the blood beneath his skin rise to his face, embarrassing him further. "Erm...well then, thank you. Some company would be appreciated." He glanced out the window and at the setting sun as he reached down to touch the hair winding around the hilt of his blade. At the feel of the blond strands against his naked fingers he took a deep breath, letting Amalia's face fill him with reassurance and confidence once more. He was not a boy, he was a man. This Faelynn was charming and attractive, but that same thing as before held him back from adding in insinuations of his own. "What kind of work do you do? I noticed some papers here before." He asked her bluntly, taking refuge within the shelter of shop-talk.

She relaxed from her stretch and answered. ""I work in Underwood for my brother's blacksmith store. I guess I would be his secretary, manager and sale woman all in one. I also help him with finances." She seemed to think for a second, then asked; "What do you do to make your living?"

Her answer came a bit quickly, he supposed, but it seemed honest enough, telling him something about her. "Nothing constant at the moment. I was thinking about becoming a bounty hunter during my time in Dheathain, but I decided not to. Now it seems my feet are carrying me to war." He chuckled and held up his sword, hair drifting in the slight breeze from the door. "Back where I came from, I was a soldier, so it only seems fitting I be a soldier here as well." He looked directly at her. "So, you help your brother eh? He works here?"

At his mention of him being a soldier, he saw her face sadden slightly. "Oh, um... no, he works in Underwood. I thought I already mentioned he worked in Underwood." She smiled again at him, and the sadness he saw washed away in it's light. "I'm here on vacation, and not my first time either. I love it here. So if you're looking for war, shouldn't you be else where? The civil war in Fallien ended over a year ago."

He sighed. "I suppose, but I guess I'm here for the same reasons as you. It's my first time here, so I figure I should get some sun before I go out to war." He lifted an eyebrow at her. "I'm talking about the one in Raiaera, if you hadn't heard about it. Sounds like the elves are getting their asses kicked, so I figured..." He lifted his sword up again instead of repeating himself. After which, he blinked in surprise; it was far too easy to talk to this near-stranger than it should have been. Whatever happened to his caution? He wondered both silently and speculatively. "In any case, I'm just looking to make the best of things."

"No, I've heard about the war in Raiaera as well as the one in Salvar, but like most good little girls, I tend to stay away from things that don't concern me. I'm not warrior and I'm definitely not a hero." She chuckled slightly, then her face saddened once more, touching Eric's heart at her next words. "I hope you come back from that war alive..."

He sighed and nodded wearily, laying his blade upon the table. "Me too, Faelynn. Me too."

[Reine]

Faelynn meant her words. She didn’t fill a space with meaningless jargon. Though she knew barely anything of Eric, she wished no ill meanings upon anyone. The war in Raiaera was a terrible one. She’d heard the stories filtering through the newspapers of Corone and the pubs and taverns. It was hard to wander around the streets without catching someone’s take on the war against Xem’xund and how the elves could be winning it if they’d only do this or that, or change their tactics here. In the end, they didn’t know what they were talking about. Reine knew nothing about wars and thus kept her nose out of it.

Looking at the blade sitting before them, Faelynn reached out and ran her slim fingers along the hard sheathe. She noticed the blonde strands again, though this time she could be certain it actually was a lock of hair. Whoever it was from must have been very special to Eric for him to tie a lock of her hair to his sword. Most men only did that when they loved and lost someone, which may explain why he avoided her advances.

“Do you think of her every time you wield your sword?” It was a blunt question, but Fae had always been that way. She let the soft strands pass across her palm as she looked from the sword to Eric, not even sure if he would answer her. It was probably far too personal for someone like her to ask. He was a soldier, he wouldn’t trust her as far as he could throw her...oh, wait, he could probably throw her quite far.

Eric lashed out. His fingers wrapped around the sheath of his blade and ripped it from the table as if her touch had poisoned it. She pulled back her hand just as quickly, her eyes wide. His face had twisted into something else. His eyes became darker and colder and the friendly aura she had felt around him before disappeared as if it had never existed.

“Please...” He said to her, far calmer than he should with eyes like that. “...don’t touch it.”

He set the weapon against his side and then leaned forward, his thick, scarred fingers running through his hair and turning it into a mess upon his head. “In answer to your question, yes I do. Helps me remember why I fight, I suppose.” He grinned wryly and placed his hands back on the table, his fingers curling as if holding something she couldn’t see. “Not very original, I know...but it’s mine.”

“I...” She found herself unable to form a complete sentence. The last thing Fae had wanted was to upset him, honestly. To her it had just been hair, but to him it was clearly something more, something she’d never really understand. She’d lost her chance with him; there was little doubt about it in her mind. The look in his eyes said it all to her. Why couldn’t she have just kept her mouth shut?

“I’m sorry... I didn’t...” She looked away from him; she couldn’t even form a complete apology properly.

He sighed and leaned back against the booth, his body relaxing. “No, I’m sorry.” His eyes glanced down at his blade, before he reached out and set it back on the table as if giving her a peace offering. She didn’t know why, she wasn’t going to touch it again. “It’s been a few years since Amalia died, but I guess they haven’t been enough.”

She nodded her head in understanding. She must have been the love of his life and Faelynn couldn’t begin to understand the pain he felt over losing her. How did he go on each day knowing he would never see her again? No wonder he kept a piece of her tied to his sword, they were probably the only two things keeping him going at the moment.

Wait a minute, did he say her name was Amalia?

“I suppose we can settle this with the fact that we’re both sorry then.” She said, giving him a tentative smile. Maybe they could get back to the aimless chatter they had been sharing before.

“My brother names my spear Amalia, though I have no idea why...” Maybe not the best choice to try and change the subject with, but it was already out there so she couldn’t do anything about it.

Eric kind of blinked at her, his blue eyes staring at her as if she’d just said the sky were green and she sprouted three more heads when she got angry. “Really? That’s...” He paused and Fae could imagine the words trickling through his head as he filtered each one to find the more appropriate and polite. Creepy, disturbing and off setting were some of the few that immediately came to mind. In the end he settled for, “...coincidental.” He winced at his own choice then laughed a rather light and carefree sound. She rather enjoyed the timbre of it. “I’m sorry, that just came as a surprise. Your brother’s a blacksmith, right?”

“Yeah, he made it himself as my going away present, and then his friend even enchanted it for me!”

He raised his brow at her. “Going away present?” He asked, his voice lilting in amusement. “That seems kind of odd. I thought you were on vacation.”

Fae blinked in surprise. Had she actually told him it was a going away present? Crap, just what was she thinking? She was getting far too comfortable with this man for her own good. Next thing she knew she’d be telling him that not only did she wander around the streets at godforsaken times of the night for kicks, she also got paid to steal. She was sure that would go over just peachy with this man. Damn, just when she was beginning to like him too.

“You don’t think this is the first time I’ve gone away do you?” She said, any surprise at the question melting into a smile. Thankfully Fae was quick on her feet. “The world’s a dangerous place, I suppose, so in the end it may not have been that strange of a going away present...”

Her eyes travelled away from Eric and to the sheathed weapon lying just a few inches from her. Just then, Cirai came back with Eric’s order.

“Cirai, can you get me another pint?”

The waitress nodded. “Not a problem, missus.”

Turning back towards Eric, Fae glanced at his place, wondering just what he’d ordered.

[Lord Anglekos]

It wasn't long before the waitress brought along Eric's food, a rare steak cut from a wyvern, but he only poked and prodded at it quietly for awhile. He hadn't meant to react so vehemently to Faelynn's curiosity, but when she'd lain her fingers upon Amalia a fury had swept into his body so quickly he could not hold it back even if he had tried. It...it had defeated him, he thought sullenly to himself as he stabbed a sampling of the meat with his fork, chewing it slowly without tasting it. It had defeated him and he'd been helpless before it. Defeat was not something he could simply accept, no matter what form it took; be it a blade or emotion, it cut just as deep. Sometimes, he thought to himself as he stared out the window at the darkening sky, the hardest battles were those fought within, not without.

I miss you so much. He clenched one hand around his sword's sheath and closed his eyes for a few moments. Maybe it was because this Faelynn reminded him of Amalia sometimes, in her lighthearted laugh from the smile that came as easily and inevitably as the morning sun. Maybe just the instant attraction he'd felt upon seeing both women for the first time. But it did not excuse him for the fangs he'd bared at her upon her simple brushing of the weapon. He hoped his apology had truly been enough.

He glanced over at his female companion, and noticed that she too had become quieter, sipping at her pint of alcohol with almost sadly, he thought. Had he said something to trouble her? Done something, other than his violent reaction? Or was he simply over analyzing every little twitch once more? Silently he chuckled at himself. He needed to relax. It wasn't like she was of any of his concern. He took a sip of his mead as he tried making conversation once more. "You're right. It's not the strange at all. I apologize, I wasn't thinking." He tapped his head and gave a lopsided smile. "I'd like to meet your brother sometime, especially as he named your weapon. I don't believe in fate, but..." He chuckled.

She smiled back over at him, but it seemed somewhat pained or held back compared to her earlier, bright expressions. Or perhaps that was his imagination. "Maybe someday you will." She drank the rest of her pint in one gulp and set it down before looking outside. "Well, it's been wonderful talking to you Eric, but I'm afraid I must turn in." She told him as she stood up and brushed herself down and fixed her hair, although not a single strand was off kilter. She looked at him, and her lips parted, and for just a moment as his blue eyes met her strange green and gold ones he thought she would speak those words he both wanted and dreaded to hear. Will you join me? He could almost hear them echoing within his head, round and round. But just as he thought they were going to fly off the tip of her tongue, she blinked and instead said, "Good night, and dream of sweet things." Before walking away with a wink, hips swishing from side to side even now with silent invitation.

He watched her leave before sighing and strapping his sword back on, leaving the remains of his steak and mead on the table along with a few gold coins. He'd lost his appetite.


~+~


This was much better, he thought to himself as he looked around at the room he'd been given within The Desert Rose. Unlike the last tavern he'd stayed at, this was much cleaner and had far more facilities for him to use. He shrugged off his pack before sitting on the bed and enjoying the smell of the clean linen sheets, laying down beneath the light. My armor! The thought intruded, and his eyes opened. He had left his iron armor, along with his bow and arrows, back at the Madasthala. Swearing under his breath, he stepped out of his new room, making sure to lock the door behind him, and walked out of the Desert Rose and back into the dark streets of Irrakam.

[Reine]

She almost asked him to join her. The words had been lying on the tip of her tongue, just waiting for the air to breathe life into them. In the end, her job had won out over her attraction to the man Eric Anglekos. Besides, a girl had to trust her instincts and Eric would not have joined her anyway. He had things within himself to be worked out long before he would ever get intimate with another woman, let alone have a full relationship. Not that she was looking for one herself. Faelynn doubted she could keep secrets from someone she cared about and secrets kept her and her family alive and safe. Still, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed. She could have stayed longer, talked more with him, even if it was about things, unimportant things. It just felt good to talk to him, like she could tell him almost anything. In the end that may be a very dangerous feeling for her to have.

Before she even realized it, Fae stood outside the door to her room. She barely remembered the walk here, being so engrossed in her own thoughts. Pulling the key from her pocket, she unlocked the door and slipped inside. Her room was dark and cold, a gentle breeze tickled her bare arms. Shivering slightly, she walked over to the bedside table, knowing its place from memory. Gliding her fingers along the top, Faelynn stopped when they struck the edge of the matchbox. Flame burst and lit the small corner of the room as she struck it along the side. Smiling, she opened the door to the lamp and lit the wick within, then blew out the match. The whole room became bathed in a gentle, orange glow.

Sitting on the edge of her large, plush bed, Faelynn slipped her bag off her back along with Amalia. Reaching inside, she pulled out all of the papers along with Ferynn’s letter.

That’s right, his present!

She’d almost forgotten. Reaching inside once more she pulled out the small box and with a child-like glee shook it. Something banged around within. Giggling, she tore through the brown wrapping paper and then ripped apart the hard, paper box. At first all her eyes saw was white packing paper, digging within Fae’s fingers touched something smooth, cold and most likely metallic. She pulled it out. Her eyes opened in surprise as they fell upon a pair of intricately crafted bangles made of a blue metal she could only guess to be Prevalida. All along the rounded top of it lay symbols expertly etched and weaved into each other, creating a constant pattern. Truly, a beautiful piece of work. She noticed another note tied to the bangles themselves.

Hey Fae,

The enchantment on the bangles is meant to bond with you, kind of like your symbiotic boots. They should respond to your thoughts. Oh, and of course the enchantment is to allow the bangles to turn into a liquid and then harden again at your will.

Connaire

Liquid bangles, huh? A little weird, but they might come in handy. Unclipping the bangles, Faelynn wasted no more time in debating and slipped both of them on. Nothing seemed to happen. The boots had given her an odd sensation when she had bonded with them, but nothing appeared to be happening now. Maybe the bangles didn’t like her...

A tingling sensation shot up both her arms. Blinking in surprise, Faelynn looked at her wrists. Her hands were shaking. Heat began to spread from her arms and up. Standing, she was hit by a sudden wave of dizziness and quickly sat back down. Sweat broke out over her forehead and down her back, soaking into her shirt. Then the pain started. It felt like a knife slicing into her wrists and molten rock travelling up her veins. Gasping in surprise, she curled up on the bed, hugging her hands to her chest. Was it supposed to feel like this? Maybe she should take them off. Another wave of dizziness washed over her, this one mixed with nausea. She felt the contents of her stomach rise into the back of her throat, but quickly swallowed it, disgusted by the taste. The hot pain reached her chest. It spread across her rib cage, encasing her heart, swallowing it. Then, it stopped. A cooling sensation spread from the bangle and out across her body.

Blinking in surprise, Faelynn slowly sat up. She felt shaky and uncertain, but other than that no damage appeared to have been done. Her wrists looked a little red and sore, but they didn’t hurt anymore and bangles, well, they looked completely normal. Trying to put it out of her mind, she wiped the sweat from her brow and grabbed her work papers. She needed to memorize the layout of the building before she left. The bangles could wait until the morning.

-------------------

The desert nation of Fallien burned during the day and froze at night. The night air felt good on her legs. Small goose pimples broke out across the area of her thighs her boots and shorts did not cover. Half a moon graced the cloudless and black sky, filtering down onto the city below. Buildings that shimmered the colour of pink and beige during the day; now glowed blue at night. It almost looked eerie to someone not used to it. With the windows closed to the cool night air and the streets deserted of all those but a few drunken stragglers and those like her, out to do no good. Truly, it felt like a ghost town.

Reine moved through the street as silently as a ghost. She slipped from one shadow to the next, avoiding the light of the moon and the main streets at all cost. Her careful eyes watched each corner and each road for signs of movement, but saw none. Her target lay close to the Palace, but not close enough that she had to worry about being spotted by the guards. The closer she got though, the more she could smell salt from the ocean fed river in the air.

Reaching the third alley down, Reine turned and headed towards one of the large, main roads. She stopped just inside the shadows and glanced down the street, no one appeared to be moving. Her eyes travelled down the line of buildings next, then fell upon the biggest one. It was across from her and thirty feet down. No one lights were on in the windows and the outside design of it made it look like nothing special. Just another three-storey building. According to the papers she had read, the kites were being stored here under lock and key until the tomorrow in two days. They had been inspected by someone today and would not be touched again until the next time they flew.

Reine crossed the road at a quick jog. Once in front of the building her eyes travelled along the second storey. None of the windows appeared to be open, but at the same time she doubted they were locked. Taking a deep breath, she began to feel the steady rhythm of her heart increase. The thought of what she was about to do left her feeling giddy and more alive than at any other time.

Tensing her legs, Reine pushed off the ground. She jumped higher than any normal person should be able to, her boots pushing her upwards. As she reached the slowest point of her ascent, she pushed off from the air as if it were hard ground. It propelled her even higher up, until her hands clasped the cool, stone ledge of the window. Reaching out with one gloved hand, Reine pushed on the window and felt it reassuringly give and slide open with a slight creak. Smirking, she pulled herself up and slid into the dark room. It was time to get down to business.

[Lord Anglekos]

He was rather glad that his new equipment did not clank annoyingly on the cold, paved streets of the capital, as the noise would've interrupted his thoughts as walked along, hands in his pockets. He rather enjoyed the contrasting cold the dark had brought, compared to the silent heat of the daytime sun, and even though the streets were now barely occupied (assuming most honest folk went back to their homes for the nighttime), he took comfort in the silence of footsteps and the anonymity his dark clothing bought him. He was glad that he had not exchanged them for the lighter clothing, as he had earlier been considering, or he would have stood out now in the desert moonlight even more so than he had under the rays of the sun. That moonlight illuminated the path before him, and the shadows cast by it amongst the alleys and dark ways around him told Eric that at night Irrakam was run by it's more unsavory crowd. He could feel their eyes searching even now for the slightest amount of weakness that would tell them he was prey.

But he ignored their looks and grit his teeth together, frustration evident. He wouldn't have minded at that moment if he was attacked; rather, he almost hoped for a fight right now, wanting to unleash the fury he'd awoken back at the Rose at some unsuspecting fool. And a thief, he thought, would make the perfect target for that fury; their repeated attempts upon his possessions had made him feel biased towards them in general. Eric was a nonpartisan kind of guy; as long as you didn't involve him in your business, he usually didn't care. But when he was personally affected by it, there would be words spewed and usually blood drawn, as violence tended to be the only language that was understood by such fools.

Most of his fury, though, was not directed at those thieves but rather at himself. The girl that had been so friendly with him occupied his thoughts now, and no matter how many times he'd shaken his head to get her out of there, she wouldn't leave. Faelynn Thiadore, although he had spent not but half an hour to an hour at the most with her, now had a foothold on his mind. Her smile, he decided. Her smile was what attracted him the most. The way it rose made him feel it had life of it's own, and when it was gone the air felt colder, as if a crucial part of life had just decided to ignore the rest of existence and gone to sleep. Her hair was attractive and her eyes mysterious, but it was her smile that really made her. And, he thought to himself while pinching the bridge of his nose together with his forefinger and thumb, that was what had attracted him to Amalia as well. Her smile had that same quality, he remembered, and made him hate himself whenever he'd made her unhappy. He would've given the world to make her happy at those times. He wished he still could.

His hand touched the strands of Amalia's hair wrapped around the sword's hilt once more and examined their softness in the moonlight. What would you have me do, my love? He silently asked them as he closed his eyes and sighed. Would you have me move on, or should I stay? I feel like I'm wandering without a compass or a place to call home. He let go of the strands and walked on.

Suddenly, a dark figure darted across the street in front of him, and automatically Eric threw himself to the side and into the shadows, hand gripping his sword's hilt tightly, ready to the draw the weapon for anything. His adrenaline pumping, he watched as the slim figure jumped twice in the air, all the way to the second-story of the three-story building. It paused a moment before he heard the creaking of a window opening, and a flush of anger went through him as he realized the figure's purpose. A burglar! He grit his teeth together, and before he knew it he was off and running soundlessly towards the building. Had he thought this out beforehand, he would have just shouted for the guards, but at the moment the only thought in his head was fueled by anger. He'd been targeted by thieves before, and refused to let another get away with their dirty ways. Whatever happened to honest work, he wondered almost offhandedly.

The front door, to his surprise, was unlocked, and that should have been a warning sign to him that it was not as it seemed. Nevertheless he ran inside, one hand on his sword as he looked around the first floor for the thief, but he saw no sign of the intruder, so he looked to the stairs. He noticed an intricate-looking kite on the table before him, but he didn't really acknowledge it; what thief would be after a kite, after all? But before he could think further, he heard footsteps from above and hid himself in the shadows once more, thanking whatever God that was looking above that he'd bought silencing equipment beforehand.

[Reine]

It took her eyes time to adjust, time she hated waiting. The slight amount of light that filtered in through the windows helped, but most of them were covered in curtains, obscuring all but the smallest amount. Still, as she slipped from the room and out into the hallway, she could make out the obstacles she needed to avoid. All indications told her she was alone in this building, but her instincts still forced her to remain quiet and take her steps carefully. The wood creaked anyway, betraying her attempts to hide herself.

The note that Adjal had given her did not specify where the Kite would be, stating only that they would most likely be stored on the second or third storey of the building. She didn’t like the idea of having to search the entire place for the one specific kite that she needed, but she had no choice. Actually, she could have refused, but who would do that to such a seemingly easy job? Especially considering how much she was being paid to do it. By the Gods that was a large amount of coin and though Reine did not normally focus on the fee, this one just seemed out of sorts. She wasn’t even stealing anything in the end.

At the first door in the hallway, a plain door with not a single thing marking it as anything special. Come to think of it, nothing in the building seemed special to her. There were barely any decorations. Just the occasional table pushed up against a wall and chairs stacked together. Maybe they used this place for storage purposes. Opening the door, she looked inside and saw tables littering the moderately sized room. On each of the tables lay one or two kites depending on their sizes. Slipping further within, she began to examine each of them but quickly realized that none were the one she needed. Each kite was intricately designed with its own specific patterns and symbols, making this search of hers that much easier.

Reine left the room quickly. Back in the hallway, she choose the next room on the opposite side and a quick glance within revealed the same set up, though once again not the kite she was searching for. Sighing, she moved to the third door. This room was slightly smaller than the other two and only housed five kites within. Upon the table closest to the window, she spotted one that appeared to match her description. Approaching the table, Reine looked down at the construct of linen and wood before her. The main colours of the kite were evident even in this light. Purple and red and even a few hints of green were stained into the fabric in an intricate pattern of intertwining lines. It fascinated her and Reine could not look away.

After a moment, she reached into her bag and pulled out the small glass bead Adjal had given her. Carefully, Reine examined the kite from tip to tip, noticing similar beads along the tail. Taking off her gloves, she chose one that perfectly match Adjal’s in size and colour and then removed it. Slipping that into her pocket, she placed the other one and quickly tied it in place. As an afterthought she measured the distance with her eyes from one bead to the next and then slightly adjusted the one she had placed there.

Too easy... I thought Adjal said this would be more complicated. She must underestimate my abilities. Shame.

Suddenly Eric popped into the forefront of her mind. Maybe he would still be there when she got back. He was after all staying in that Inn and it wasn’t too late at night. He didn’t really seem like the partying type, but if luck fell upon her side tonight she would be able to see him again. She didn’t know why, but she wanted to talk to him again. He made her feel so comfortable with herself and like she didn’t need to flirt to hold his attention, she could just be herself.

Smiling, Reine turned to leave. Apparently luck saw it fit to grace her tonight but in all the wrong ways.

“You have ten seconds to give up and come with me by your own free will.”

Eric’s deep voice echoed throughout the room, sounding too loud to her ears. She couldn’t believe it. She hadn’t even heard him sneak up on her. Nothing. Not a creaking floor board, not a shifting of feet, he had merely appeared behind her like a ghost. How could he have approached her so easily without any of her senses feeling it?

Quickly, Reine recovered from the surprise and confusion. The look of shock on her face was quickly covered with a sure smirk and a playful gleam in her make-up covered eyes. She knew he wouldn’t recognize her. The deep purple and black wings that fanned out from her eyes helped disguise her, as did the darkness filling the room. She couldn’t talk though. There was a chance he’d recognize her from the sound of her voice, even after the short amount of time they spent together.

Bringing her hand up, Reine wagged a single, long finger at him. He'd have to leave her without his bagged thief. She didn't plan on getting caught, not by him or anyone else. Sharply, she turned her back on him and vaulted over the table in front of her in one smooth motion. There was a window directly behind her. It wasn’t open, but if she could just reach it in time...

[Lord Anglekos]

Eric wasn't surprised; she didn't turn herself in. He could tell she was female from her hair and the shape of her body in the moonlight, but he could not discern her other physical features due to the lack of any real light. So either she was female, or he was looking at the most feminine male burglar in existence. In any case, they leaped over the table with a grace befitting that of an acrobat, and had Eric not been prepared for her sudden movement he may have lost her then and there. As it was, he had to almost move before she did, running around the table with the kite as fast as his legs could manage in the small space. He started to reach for his sword, but a small voice of logic shouted out from the back of his head, telling him he wouldn't be able to wield the larger weapon effectively with so little room for him to swing. So instead his hand darted to one of the two hilts at his back, and there was a flash of blue as he drew forth one of his twin prevalida daggers.

She landed from her graceful leap, and almost immediately sprang forth once more. Eric guessed her trajectory; there was a window about five feet up that would give her an easy escape, if she managed to reach it. A makeup-covered face looked up to it in silent expectation as she moved, legs bent to jump, and Eric barely got there in time as she achieved liftoff. His free hand darted out into the air from behind her, and managed to grasp the back of her jacket with his grip. Yes! He felt a moment's exaltation before he gave a loud growl of effort, pulling his target not back down to the ground but, using her own momentum from her jump against her, swung her up over his head and back down onto the table, creating a loud crash upon the impact.

He was breathing a little heavier from the effort, but he made sure not to show it as he reversed his grip on her, grabbing her now by her jacket's collar. He pulled her farther into the moonlight, trying to discern her identity, but the makeup she wore was too thick, too widespread to give an exact face. Still, there was something familiar about her, he thought to himself. With his other hand he brought the azure dagger to her throat, making sure she felt the edge against her skin. "Let's try this again. Will you come with me willingly or--"

But before he could finish his ultimatum he felt something akin to a hammer blow drive itself into his stomach. A small hammer, but a hammer nonetheless, and had it not been for the adrenaline pumping through his body he might have been incapacitated right there. As it was, the blow made him release his grip upon the thief and force him to back up a few steps, cursing under his breath. However, it did not seem that she was satisfied with merely injuring him there, and before he knew it he saw a dark blur as her other leg came flying at his head in a horizontal kick.

He was no hand to hand fighter but threw up a block anyways, not wanting her to get away from him if he dodged. Her foot collided with his arm and he switched his dagger to the other hand, holding it like a sword now. Wasting no time with words, he slashed at her leg, and there was a moment's silent satisfaction as he felt the tip of the weapon slice through cloth and into flesh just on the top and inside of her right thigh. At the feel of the cold steel penetrating her he pulled back a little, and she did the same with a slight cry of pain.

That voice...He thought to himself. Haven't I heard it before from somewhere? But he could waste no more time on speculation, however, as his opponent gave a cry of rage and set upon him once more. He was surprised by this sudden assault; he had figured that once she had been physically injured she would give up her vendetta, and thus when one shadowy fist came swinging at his head he was unprepared. It collided with his skull and sent him reeling, making him back up a few more steps as he held his hand up before him, trying to ward off any further blows. He'd suffered blunt attacks before, but god he'd forgotten just how much they hurt!

Eric could've sworn her heard the woman say "Bastard..." under her breath before she launched another series of kicks and punches at him, and while he could have attacked her with his dagger he didn't want to kill her. So it was all he could do just to ward off her blows, trying to absorb them into his body by using his heavier weight against her. She drew back for a punch, and it was there he saw his chance. As she struck out, he stepped to the side and grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the wall. There was a shriek of anger from her, and her other hand came swinging around to hit him. They were too close, but his other hand flung up automatically to block the blow, and Eric watched with helpless eyes as his blade's trajectory was knocked straight towards her exposed chest.

[Reine]

Reine’s eyes widened in shock. She felt the cold metal of his blade sink deep into her chest, almost to the hilt. She knew it was inside of her, she could feel it inside her, foreign and cold. But she didn’t want to believe it. She couldn’t. This was just a simple job. There was supposed to be very little risk involved in it, so why? Why did he have to be here? Why did this have to happen? The hilt of the dagger protruded out the top of her left breast. It would have hit her heart, pierced the now fluttering organ. Blood would be spilling into the cavity of her chest and oozing out of the wound, but she couldn’t feel it. She couldn’t feel much, just that cold dagger inside of her and the shock that ran throughout her whole body. She felt like she was shaking. She thought she was going to be sick.

“Why...?”

She didn’t know if the barely whispered word was for Eric or for herself. Had her luck finally run out? Was this really how she was going to die? Her short life ending on foreign soil by the hand of a stranger she’d shared conversation with, had laughed with. Maybe he wasn’t that much of a stranger then...

Eric stared at her in complete mortification. Her green eyes clashed with his blues ones. All colour had drained away from his face, leaving it pale and drawn and scared. Did her face look like that? Was it a reflection of what his eyes perceived?

The hand holding the dagger in her chest began to shake, tremble even.

“Oh, God no... I didn’t...”

He released her arm. She let it fall to her side. Unsteadily, he took a step away from her, his fingers falling away from the weapon now killing her. It slipped from her chest and fell to the ground below. The sound of metal impacting off the wood deafened her ears. She reached up to clutch at the wound in her chest. She didn’t know why. There was no point, it wouldn’t keep her alive, but she did it anyway. Her hand hit the torn fabric of her jacket, skimmed across the skin below. She felt no wound. No blood soaked into the black material, covering it in what gave her life. But she had felt the dagger within her.

Confused, Reine looked down only to see no wound marring her skin. There was nothing, just the tear in the material of her jacket, the only thing signifying the dagger had ever even gotten near her. She didn’t even feel any pain. There should be pain, shouldn’t there?

But how...

She looked up at Eric. His face was still twisted into a mask of horror. He had not realized she wasn’t injured. Of course he wouldn’t. Everything he believed would just dictate that he had killed her. No normal person could survive such a wound. How can she? Reine was everything a normal human was.

She didn’t have the time to think about it. She needed to get out of this place before Eric realized she wasn’t hurt and once again tried to take her into the authorities.

I’m sorry, but I’m not ready to be caught just yet.

Using his terror to her advantage, Reine took a step towards him. Tensing her leg, she jumped off the ground, bringing herself up as high as she could in one single jump. She drew her leg in close to her body, and then snapped out a powerful kick. Her shin collided with the side of his head. Eric went flying into the wall a few feet away. His head and back impacted it with a sickening thud. He slumped to the ground. Walking over to him, she knelt down and checked his breathing. She didn’t want to kill him, just give him a world of pain for trying to kill her.

Reaching into one of the many pockets in her jacket, Reine pulled out a small silver coin. In the centre of it were four perfectly square holes punched out surrounding her name. She left this at every place she stole something. Tossing it besides Eric, she leaned down and kissed him on the check, leaving an imprint of light blue lipstick. Then she grabbed the dagger at her feet and stood up. It looked like every other dagger out there. The metal appeared to be the exact kind her bangles were made of, Prevalida. It would be her compensation and his loss.

“I can’t believe you almost killed me.”

Turning her back on his unconscious form, Reine left the room and left the building. She wanted to get back to Adjal and get this job over with.


-----------------------

SPOILS: Prevalida Bangles – the bangles her brother gave her don’t appear to work properly. During the fight with Eric, Fae tried to activate their enchantment only to find them doing nothing. (The true nature of these bangles will be revealed in part 2 of this quest.)

Eric's Prevalida Dagger

800 GP for the completed tampering of the kite.

[Lord Anglekos]

Unknown to both Reine and Eric that evening, the building where the kite was held had not been left without protection or a guard. The one stationed that evening was a large, slightly overweight man named Olblark, who had more than a few gray hairs from his advancing age and a growing potbelly from too many nights spent sitting around with a mug of mead in one hand and his betting dice in the other. Age wasn't all to blame for his graying and thinning hair, however; in fact, most often when he looked at himself wearily in the mirror he would blame it upon what he called the three banes of his existence. The first bane was his wife, a rather tall and thin and woman who's voice and facial features rather resembled those of a bird. She'd been rather pretty when she was younger, but there were definitely times when Olblark had wished he'd never married her as he cleaned his ears out, trying to get the ringing from her piercing voice out. His other two banes had come in one package, and that package had been the first bane, coincidentally. They were twins, but as Olblark was usually too drunk when he came home to tell them apart he had come to forget their real names and called them Thing 1 and Thing 2, after two very similar characters he'd read in a book somewhere. They caused so much trouble that it was a wonder that he didn't have a bald head, he felt, and stayed out later and later these nights.

It was this with these exact thoughts in his head that the guard trudged back to his station by the door, leaning on his spear heavily as he hiccuped slightly, wiping the mead from his lips. He'd been given some stupid job to guard some stupid kite, and it hadn't taken much for his peers to drag him away from his post and to one of the local strip clubs for a night of beautiful women and good booze. After all, he'd thought to himself, who would want to steal a kite? He snorted aloud at the ridiculous thought as he came to his post, pulling out his keys to lock the door nonetheless; years of habit.

It was surprising indeed then when he saw the door swinging ajar in the morning wind, and in the growing light he saw a figure sitting slumped up against the wall, head tilted slightly to the side. Grabbing his spear in panic, his drunken state forgotten momentarily, the guard rushed in, pushing aside chairs in his rush before lifting the spear to the figure's throat. There were a couple silent moments where nothing could be heard but their breathing before Olblark set his spear back down; the young man before him appeared to be unconscious. "Hey..." He grunted, shaking the kid's shoulder hard, envying even now the thick locks of light brown hair upon the other's head. Why should this man have good hair while Olblark's was thinning every day? "...wake up, you. Wake up!"

He'd expected a reaction, but the one that came caught the guard off-balance. There was a flash as the man's arm moved, and suddenly Olblark found the edge of a steel sword pressed against his throat. The other man's eyes opened and glared out, staring unfocused towards something that the larger man couldn't see. Olblark gulped nervously, sweat beading down his forehead as he cleared his throat, trying to get the other's attention. It seemed to work, as cold eyes as blue as ice snapped to the guard, then upon focusing, blinked rapidly. The expression of simple fury upon the man's face slid off like sap. "No..." He whispered, and the sword left the guard's throat. "Where is she? Where is the thief?"

Now, Olblark wasn't the brightest of men, obviously. He'd lived his entire life through using his size to get what he wanted, even in these older days. So he was not used to being intimidated by a smaller, younger man with a fierce stare, and could only stammer in response. "I...uh...I...um..."

The blue eyed man leaned forward and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him slightly forward and gesturing out to the table. "Listen to me! There was a thief here, and I stabbed her, but somehow....somehow she was unharmed. I--" He blinked before looking up at the open door, where sunlight was beginning to pour in. "How long have I been out?" He demanded of the guard.

"I--I--I dunno..." Oblark stammered, still remembering the feel of the sword against his neck. "I just got here...sorry..."

With a sigh the other released him and stood up, brushing himself off. Blue eyes snapped to Olblark once more, and the guard noticed the imprint of blue lipstick upon the younger man's face. "Who're you?"

As if those words were a command, Olblark remembered his job and lifted his spear to point at the other man. "First of all, tell me who you are and what you were doing in here." He felt rather proud of his words and a confidence flooded him, as he was sure he was in his territory now. And no one could beat him in his territory, no.

That confidence was dealt a blow, though, when the swordsman before him simply looked at the spear with disdain and at Olblark with the same. "My name is Eric Anglekos. I chased the thief in here." He looked down, and his eyes widened. "No...where's my dagger?" He looked around himself and patted himself down, only to snarl, "Goddamit, she stole my dagger!" The man's eyes focused on something on the floor, and he bent down to pick it up. "Reine...?" He said with a slight question to his voice.

The guard answered him, now more than a little intimidated by the other's commanding prescence. "Reine? She's got a bit of a warrant for her head these days; she's supposed to be some kinda 'professional thief', or something." The guard stepped back and set his spear to the side of him as this Eric moved forward towards the door, sheathing the sword back into a scabbard at his side without looking.

"Well, she has something that belongs to me." Eric's words were short and clipped with fury. "Tell the other guards to be on the lookout for her, and to stay out of my way." He flipped the coin before putting it in his pocket. "This 'Reine' just messed with the wrong person." And with a nod to Olblark, the swordsman stepped out into the morning light with a soundless and purposeful stride.

Once he was sure the other was gone, Olblark pulled up a stool and pulled out a bottle of alcohol he saved just for occasions like these and, popping the cap off expertly, began to drink. It looked to be a long day.


End of Part 1.



Spoils

+ Eric gains a set of a armguards and greaves enchanted as to allow the wearer to move silently. They are made of delyn and carry all the properties of the metal as well. {I am willing to sacrifice any gold he would normally gain from this quest to get these.}
+ Eric gains a small coin punched with four square holes and the name "Reine" engraved upon it. It has no special properties and cannot be sold.
- Eric loses the prevalida dagger "Styxx" temporarily, having it been stolen by the thief Reine. Consequently, she gains this dagger.

[Taskmienster]

Since this has been waiting for a while and the mod that called it is no longer active I’m taking it to get it out of the way. Comments were asked to be regular as requested. If you have questions feel free to catch me sometime.

Continuity 7
I have nothing to really comment too much on here. I suppose a little bit more story about who your families were, and what connection they had with Reine… and maybe if they knew what she did or not as well. Protecting their identities is one thing, protecting them if they don’t know about you is something altogether different. It makes the character act differently, as well as gives a different knowledge of the person.

Lord A, you have a lot of background but I feel like it could have had something at least a little more about your background.

It was the strongest portion of the thread though, because it consumed about 15 of the 17 posts. And not in a good way.

Setting 6
There was some, but all in all it was somewhat droll. It wasn’t really written in a way that expressed the true feeling of the place. I got what your eyes saw, but nothing else. Don’t forget that you have 4 other senses (unless you have a 6th or something for some reason) and you can’t ignore those. Without those you tell me a very flat world that I have to try and go off of.

Pacing 3.5
Slowwww… This thread was slow, just seemed to drag for the sake that you both needed to fill out the posts between the intro and the rising action. There was a lot of it, and it went really slow.

Dialogue 5
The dialogue was alright, though not exactly overly original. It was well written, and stayed in character… even if the character that was displayed was either static and flat.

Action 4
The fact that the actual action of the thread came not until the 15th post, or so, out of 17 total posts… it was a long time to wait. I have said a lot of what was wrong with the thread in the Pacing section, but it comes up again in this section. It was slow, really slow. I got a little bit of the persona’s and setting from the length of the interaction before the purpose of the thread got on the way. The actions and reactions helped with the persona, but I wish that the 15th post had started earlier, so as to draw the attention of the reader sooner.

And then I was let down… Why, oh why, did the dagger not kill? It wasn’t explained, it was just said that it cut a jacket. A jacket is NOT enough to stop a prevalida dagger from going through your chest with momentum behind it. Your character should be dead.

Lord A: The last post of yours was out of place in a way that made me think. It was a mix of the fact that the guard so thoughtlessly came up to you and woke you up… as well as the fact that after being beaten the way you did, gone unconscious even as shortly as you did, and then waking up immediately without a headache, fully alert, and able to act again so quickly.

Persona 4.5
Reine: You have an overall feel, from last thread I judged to this one, to be little more than going from one place to another and having some love affair with another person. It’s a pretty one way thing, somewhat of a static way to display the character making it feel as if there’s nothing else really to the character. You steal things, you flirt with whatever male character happens to be in the thread with you, and then you talk a lot about how you have to hide behind the other persona. I’m not sure how to even start suggesting how to make this better, but I know a good first step is concentrating on actions and reactions that display your personality, more then you libido. Anything would help more, but starting with… WHY your character acts the way she does would be best.

Technique 5
Reine: Your writing style, as I commented on in the previous thread I judged, has a lot of points when you write as if the narrative is the characters thoughts. It’s not bad, but the way you write it seems overdone at times. It makes it feel as if you could be writing something that’s more a third person view from the character’s perspective, like a strange storytelling, more than a story being told.

Mechanics 6
Lord A: Just a small mistake in the first post regarding words, you used “better” twice with only a word between the two… and the first one wasn’t necessary. There are a lot of writing issues that I found as well.

Clarity 6
It was clearly written. Nothing to really comment on here. Points loss for the small mistakes here and there.

Wild Card 5
The note made in the action section is like “godmoding”, which I normally note in the WC section. It detracted from the score.

Score: 52

Rewards:

Reine: 1000 exp | 400 gold
((The bangles are allowed to be steel, not prevalida. You get 400 gold from the job, and the dagger since it was dropped by Lord A…))

Lord A: 440 exp | 125 gold
((Both spoils granted, though the armguards and boots are made of steel; and I’m giving you the regular gold spoils instead of bumping it for your writing, in place of the enchantment bonuses.))

[Taskmienster]

Exp and GP added!

Lord A is now level 1!